#anon i just want you to know this question came in twice

[fala-alfredo-pasta]

What’s your dream danganronpa blunt rotation?

pov you're about to get your kidney stolen

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃 ❞

❝ EVERYONE WANTS SATORU GOJO, SO WHY ARE YOU THE ONE STUCK GUARDING HIM ? ❞

✧ pairing: rich boy! gojo x bodyguard! reader

✧ summary: after the gojo family receives threats to their lives, you're hired to protect the heir to the company, satoru gojo - you just didn't realize how charming the rich heir would be - and just how hard it would be to resist his advances.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, fluff, reader is around the same age as gojo (both in their 20s but age is vague), virgin! gojo, switch! gojo, oral (f + m), handjob (m), dry humping, fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), depictions of violence, mentions of yakuza, dirty business dealings, gojo's made up dad and suguru make an appearance

✧ wc: 15,311 (i don't know what to say at this point)

✧ for my 2k celebration event: item 1 has been sold to @forest-hashira and two anons!

“So, is this your first time?”

Satoru Gojo would be the end of you — one way or another. 

One way would be you sacrificing your life to protect him — fairly run of the mill when it came to guarding someone, the risk of putting your life on the line, though the chance of death usually was fairly slim. You had only come close — twice. 

You didn’t care to make it a third. 

The other, increasingly more likely, way was that you would lose your mind to his incessant yammering before you even had a chance to neutralize any threat to his life. 

You nearly spit out your drink at the question, wiping your mouth with a napkin, before managin to choke it down, “Excuse me?” 

And his lips annoyingly curl, “Your first time guarding someone,” 

The heir seemed fairly nonchalant, even after his father had sat the both of you down in a room filled with more security agents than the prime minister of Japan himself had, and had lectured him about the importance of staying with you the entire time and to respect your authority — well one out of two wasn’t bad. He’s eating a piece of cake instead of a meal, his fork digging into the back of the cake again and again, toying with his food as he did with you, “I mean, you seem fairly young, but old enough to be entrusted with my safety,” 

“Well, since you insisted on going to school, your father needed someone unassuming who looked around your age,” you lean against your hand, your other drumming against the table, as your eyes scanned the area — table of frat boys, group of girls sneaking glances at Gojo, various other students, no real threats — unless you counted the girls’ death daggers towards you, “someone who wouldn’t look out of place with you, raise any suspicions, but who could still protect you,” 

His lips curl, as your eyes find their way back to the young heir, “So basically, you had to look like my girlfriend — shouldn’t I hold your hand? Sell the act? All in the name of my safety,” 

You jerk your head towards his group of admirers, “I think what we’re doing now is plenty — unless you’d like your guard to get mauled by a bunch of hormonal college girls,” 

His eyes slid to his adoring fans, as he pities them with a wave, erupting squeals from them, “I think you could take them,”

“How flattering,” you reply drily, picking at the food in front of you, “now finish your lunch so we can get to our next class on time,” 

“Are you still upset that we were late this morning?” 

“No, I’m upset that we missed half the class and I had to take the fall for it,” the heir had oh so kindly told the professor that you had made them run late (even though he was the one who spent far too long in the bathroom). 

And even though you wouldn’t be attending this school for long, you hoped that you wouldn’t have to make yourself look like a fool the entire time you were here — but — your eyes found Gojo’s again — sticking with Satoru Gojo almost made that a guarantee that you would look like a fool — one way or another. 

And you were already the fool — for thinking that a college aged boy would have any real food in his refrigerator. Although, Satoru Gojo was a different breed — instead of alcohol and questionable containers of takeout, there was...sweets. 

So. Many. Sweets.

Not just cookies and candy — but literally six different kinds of mochi (for some reason?) and almost any pastry you could possibly think of was stocked in the house. And the freezer was more of the same — seven different containers of ice cream and one aged bag of edamame stuck in the back. 

“Gojo?” you stare into the open refrigerator, while Gojo lays back on his couch, scrolling on his phone mindlessly. 

“Yeah?” 

“Do you have any food?” 

“What do you mean? The refrigerator is full of food?” and his voice is thick with genuine confusion and you’re almost wondering how this man survived to this age. 

Oh yeah, he’s rich. 

You sigh, closing the refrigerator doors, and striding over to him, only to snatch his phone out of his hands, “Sweets are not real food — how do you eat like this and function?” 

He only shrugs, lips curled into a grin, “I’m just built different,” 

“You mean like a person who won’t make it to age fifty?” you toss his phone back at him, “get up,” you grab your sweatshirt hanging by the door and throw his jacket at him. He barely catches it, as he sits up, his face displeased with your sudden need to get him up. 

“Where are we going?” 

“So,” Gojo says, his hands in his pockets, as you both walk the aisles of the grocery store, “why did I have to come with you?” 

“Because I’m going to show you how to actually shop for groceries, so you don’t have a heart attack and die before my stint with you is up,” you grab essentials and basics — oil, rice, cereal, pasta, spices, flour, sugar (although did he really need sugar with the amount he was already consuming?), “you know it would suck if my client died before we eliminated the other threats on his life,” before you add with a smile, “though I think your eating habits are more likely to kill you,” 

“You know men really hate sarcastic women,” he bites back, before something catches his eye in the aisle and he places it in the cart, “major turn off,” 

“Well, mission accomplished then,” you roll your eyes, as you look back at the cart to see a box of cookies, “you know when I said you were a moron, I was half kidding, but now,” you lift up the box of cookies, “you have a million cookies at home,” 

He pouts — why do you feel like a mother refusing their child their candy at checkout? — “Not these ones,” you take the box and put it back on the shelf where it belonged, and he relents. 

“Did you eat like this before college?” 

He shook his head, “My meals were prepared for me by the chef at my home, I never really had much of a say in what I ate, or anything really,” and you shake your head, “my father wasn’t really the type to let me handle anything on my own — thus the need for a babysitter,” 

You nod, “So no one really taught you how to take care of yourself?” and he shakes his head. 

“Guess not, but I guess no time like the present to learn,” he examines the box of baking powder you had just placed in the cart, “like what this is,” and you snort, taking the box from him and placing it back in the cart. 

“Maybe by the end of this trip, we’ll have you making it past the age of forty,” 

He raises an eyebrow, “I thought you said fifty?” 

“The cookies made me lose more faith in you,” 

The two of you continue to shop, as you help him pick out vegetables, meat, and other necessities for the house. You separate the things for you and for him meticulously, as the two of you head over to the checkout, and he’s placing everything on the conveyor belt together, including your own things, “No wait, those are mine—” 

“Consider it payment,” he stops you, as you continue to try to argue, but he’s only blocking you from the conveyor belt with a raised arm, a real smile on his lips, “just let me do this for you,” And you can’t find any words, so your mouth shuts, and you nod — as you watch him speak with the older cashier with his patented charm. 

And the cashier stops you right as you’re leaving, whispering, “That’s a good one, don’t let him go, ok?” and you pause, her words sinking in as blood rushes to your cheeks. 

“We’re not—” 

“I know,” the older woman chuckles far too knowingly, as she hands you the receipt, “but you never know.” 

“You coming?” Gojo calls, turning to look back at you, as he pushes the cart of groceries, and you look from the cashier to him, before fleeing with a quick ‘thank you.’ 

And as you go home, you glance at Gojo, maybe there was more to him than you initially thought. 

“This is so boooooring,” Gojo’s whining for, what you assume is, the billionth time, “I hate philosophy, moral arguments? It’s such bullshit,” 

“You know philosophy is literally a subject that encompasses everything right?” you tilt your head watching him lay on the floor as the two of you sit at the table, his head right next to you, as you sit cross legged, “there’s no avoiding it in life,” 

“Well can’t I avoid it in school at least? Because college feels very different from real life,” and you roll your eyes, flicking him between the eyes. 

“Just write your paper, I already finished mine,” and he perks up. 

And he slides his laptop over to you, “Then you can write mine,” 

“That’s not happening,” and he groans again, “you know if you spent all the time that you whined working on your paper then you’d be done,” 

“Were you this much of a buzzkill when you were in college?” Gojo stares at you, “what do you even do for fun?” 

“Why is this relevant to you writing your paper?” 

“Why is writing my paper relevant to protecting my life?” and you open and close your mouth, “c’mon give me something, anything,” 

“How about this — when you finish a page, I’ll answer a question, any question,” you offer, and he grins, as he sits up and begins to type away at his laptop. 

You sit back, lying back and using your phone, until about fifteen minutes later when he’s holding his laptop up, showing you that he completed a page, “That fast?” you’re skeptical, and then you grab his laptop, skimming the page, wondering if he was trying to trick you — he wasn’t. It was good, more than good — it was a wonderful discussion of deontological ethics. 

“How did you finish this so fast?” you raise an eyebrow, “you complain so much, but you wrote this page far too quickly,” 

He shrugs, “I’m good at everything, sweetheart,” and you roll your eyes, “jealous?”

“Totally,” you scoff, before grinning,  “so get back to work,” and he gapes at you, before groaning dramatically, lying back on the floor again. 

“Ugh, this is too much work,” he whines again, “I don’t know why I had to take this stupid class,” he grumbles. 

“Then why did you?” you scroll through your phone, checking for any new alerts or updates from his father or any other member of the security team, “you have a choice in what classes you sign up for, don’t you?” 

And for one of the first times, you saw Satoru’s playfulness ebb away, replaced with almost a bitterness — as bitter as his words were usually sweet, “Maybe most college kids do, but I don’t have a choice in most of the things I do, including the classes I pick,” 

You tilt your head, “Your father?” And he nods, “did you even choose your major?” 

His eyes drift to the ceiling, “Is it a choice when your father tells you you’re either being groomed to run his company when you graduate or he’s not paying for you to go to school at all?” 

“No, it isn’t,” you admit, “but it could be worse, he could have stuck you with a glorified babysitter on top of it,” 

He cracks a smile, “I don’t know, maybe I have a thing for babysitters,” and you roll your eyes, cracking a smile. 

“Get back to work.” 

“Fuck,” Satoru muttered, watching the rain come down as he waited outside the university awning of the building he had just finished his class in. You had left him to go to class by himself — you trusted him enough not to get murdered while in class and on the walk back (high praise) — and said you’d likely just meet him back at the apartment. But now, he didn’t know how he’d get home without getting soaked. 

He checks his phone for any rideshares nearby, but there were none. And he would rather go drown in the rain than call his father’s driver, and guarantee a lecture about being prepared for “any given situation.” 

Shit. Maybe he would just risk walking. 

So he did. The rain soaked through his clothes all too quick, the wet fabric clinging to his skin, and the cold leeching the warmth from his body. And he couldn’t help but think if you were with him, you would have remembered to bring an umbrella. 

Weird, when did he ever really rely on anyone else? 

Yes, his father had maids, cooks, and personal shoppers when he was growing up — but they weren’t people he relied on — he did, but it was expected. It was their job. And yes, he was a job for you too — but…it was different. 

Satoru didn’t know when it happened but he had gotten used to your presence in his life. Whether it was at home or in class, you were always there. And it wasn’t as annoying as he thought it would be. It was…nice to have someone there to lean on. But, as he glanced up at the storm clouds, holding a hand above his eyes — rolling dark clouds with no signs of the rain letting up — this would be his reality once the threats were a distant memory. 

“Gojo!” He blinks, his eyes snapping forward, and he sees someone coming over the horizon. 

It was you — umbrella in hand, as your footsteps echoed with the splashes of water from the rain that collected on the ground. And you found your way to him, holding the umbrella over his head. He stared at you as you grew closer, wondering if you were real. And he wasn’t surprised you found him —

“How did you know?” He asks when you stand, catching your breath, short pants, as your eyes flicker up to his. 

“You always forget your umbrella, so I figured you needed one,” you shrugged, “plus I finished my meeting early so I came to get you,” and he only stares at you, “what?” 

And he only shakes his head, as he takes the umbrella from your hand, fingers brushing, as he holds it up over the both of you, your shoulders brushing as you begin to walk home. And he found himself wishing for a split second that the threats would never stop. 

“Just wondering if it’s in your job description to protect me from colds too,” and you snort, lips curling into the same smile he loved to see. 

“With you? It is.” 

“A party?” 

“Yes, known as a gathering of people where—” 

“I don’t need you to define the word,” you grit your teeth, as you watch him pull out shirts from his closet, holding them up, before shrugging, “do you know the kind of danger you could put yourself in by going?” 

“I know, the party might go into a frenzy at the sight of me, think of all the students who’d glare at you then,” he grins, as he finally settles on an outfit — charcoal gray shirt and a blue button down, “might have to call another bodyguard to guard you instead, princess,” 

“Aren’t you the princess if you’re the one being guarded?” you bite back, and he only laughs, hands in his pockets, “Gojo, you have serious threats that have been levied—” 

“Against my father—” 

“And you, the heir to your father’s company,” you cut him off, crossing your arms, “are you seriously going to risk our lives because you want to get drunk and fuck around with a bunch of idiots?” 

The answer was yes, of course. 

And now here you were, stuck babysitting this spoiled heir at a party. You hadn’t really been to any parties — hadn’t bothered to. You had gotten through college at a young age, perks of skipping a few grades, and you ended up in the family business regardless — so you didn’t bother to party much. Not when you had things to accomplish — babysitting a drunk heir wasn’t one of them. 

It has started as you expected. Gojo had flitted away from your side the first moment he got, disappearing into the throng of horny and drunk college students. You wove your way through the crowd, careful not to trip over the students making out, dancing, or drinking on nearly any available surface. The smell of beer and cheap cologne wafted through this dorm. And you had almost given up on finding him when you spotted him stuck to the sides of three girls, all of them far too eager to hang off his every word. 

You sighed, this was going to be a long night. 

“You one of Satoru’s girlfriends?” you glance to your side and see Suguru Geto in person. You had learned all about Satoru Gojo and the people he hung around. Like those three girls — one of them had a long distance boyfriend, the other had a cheating situationship she was trying to make jealous, and the other just wanted to fuck him for the experience. Suguru Geto was one of the only friends of Gojo you had liked from what you had read about him — humble background, on scholarship at the college, but one of the best students here — and a philosophy student of all things, the very subject his best friend hated. 

You want to say no, but unfortunately, you have no idea what the idiot has been saying to other people, “Something like that,” you sip at your drink to make the bitter words slide down, “why? Are you?” 

A chuckle slips past his lips, as he takes a swig of his drink, “Well I already like you better than the others. You have a sense of humor and seemingly more than two brain cells,” 

“Don’t give me too much credit,” you snorted, leaning against a wall, “I did end up here after all,”

“Fair enough, how’d he convince you to come?” And you shake your head — good question. What choice did you really have? You could have let him go alone, but probably not a good look 

“I don’t even know honestly, feel like I’ve been dragged here to make sure he doesn’t do something stupid,” you glance at him and the gaggle of girls, “though maybe I already fucking failed at that,” 

Geto shrugs, as his gaze slips from Gojo to you, “I mean until he sticks his tongue down one of their throats, I think you’re doing pretty well,” 

You laugh, “Good to know,” and you both continue to chat, and unbeknowst to you, while your focus is torn away from Gojo, his attention is fully on you. 

If looks could kill, Satoru imagined his crystal eyes were nothing more than daggers ready to strike, as he watches you and Suguru talk. 

It was his fucking idea to come to this party, so why were you having more fun than he was?

He swirled his drink miserably — he had barely taken a sip of the beer poured for him — why would he when it tasted like piss? He didn’t understand why people liked to drink — especially when they could eat mochi instead — but now, as he stares at you and Suguru, maybe he was starting to understand. 

He can’t hear what either of you are saying over the blaring music and the chatter of students surrounding him, but he can see the smile on your lips and the laugh that left them. 

Why the fuck do you look so happy to talk to Suguru? 

You seemed so bored when he was with you—and did you just fucking laugh again at something Suguru said? 

The crinkle of plastic and the distinct feeling of a spill made his gaze snap to his hand — he just crushed his plastic drink cup. He sighed, as he simply placed it among the other abandoned drink cups on a nearby table, before wiping off his hand with a napkin. 

Why did he even care? You were nothing but a nuisance anyway. All you did was follow him around, make him go to class on time, make sure he was safe, care about his well-being— 

What the fuck was he thinking? 

His eyes couldn’t help but slide back to you as he tried to enjoy the girls' company, their slight touches and soft pouts and sweet words not going unnoticed by him. But that was how it always was. Once people found out he was rich, people wanted to be his friend, they wanted to date him, they wanted him — but not really him, they wanted his money. 

First world problems, right? 

But you — you hadn’t been like that. You were irritatingly punctual, unfazed by his money, didn’t care in the slightest about his father or who he was — you just wanted to do your job. And he was your job, for the time being. 

And now he got to see you smile — your lips perfectly curled in a smile that both he wanted to see all the time and grated on his nerves — but you were smiling at someone else. And Suguru no less. 

“C’mon Satoru, you gonna make eyes at your boyfriend all night?” Aiko said, nudging him teasingly, her words far too slurred. 

“Help us finish these shots,” Yumiko whines, as she offers him a shot, urging it into his hands. 

He’s grimacing, he hates alcohol — he hates how he feels during and after; he hates the disgusting, metallic taste; and if it couldn’t get worse, he’s a lightweight. He stares at the shot. 

“It’s just one shot,” Misaki grins, holding up her own, clinking hers to his, “you’re already three shots behind everyone else,” 

And he’s about to open his mouth to refuse — make up an excuse of having to wake up early or stomach being unsettled — and that’s when you catch his attention. You were laughing now, a noise far too pretty for his liking, as you shoved Suguru’s chest playfully. 

Fuck it. 

He downs the shot, the liquid searing down his throat, dragging down until it settles in a burning pool in his stomach. Finally he tears his gaze away as the girls offer him another shot — as you grin at Suguru — this was going to be a long night. 

“Hey,” Geto jerks his head, “you might want to deal with that,” 

You whip your head around. 

“Oh what the—“ 

Gojo was hanging all over the girls he was with, barely able to stand on his two feet, as he swayed from side to side — his cheeks glowed with the telltale glow that told everyone he had been drinking (if that wasn’t obvious by literally everything else). 

Fuck. 

You had kept an eye on him. You swore he had only taken two shots of alcohol, how was he this drunk already? You examine and sniff the two shot glasses he used — no peculiar smell or residue — you run through the gamut of tests you could do on hand and conclude two things: 1) Gojo wasn't drugged and 2) he was a lightweight. 

But that didn’t stop him from acting like he wasn’t, as girls egged him on to take more shots, and from the way they were eyeing him, their intentions were anything but pure. 

You sigh, walking over, slipping past a drunk couple making out, a person passed out and sleeping on the floor, and a cluster of cheering onlookers as a student chugged what you can only assume was a disgusting concoction of alcohol. 

Until you finally reached his side. 

“I think you’ve had enough, isn’t that right, Satoru?” And he’s blinking at you, before he’s grinning, slurring your name.

“You’re no fun,” and he’s clinging all over you, his hands curled around your waist, “such a buzzkill, don’t even like to have any fun with me,” 

“Looks like you had too much fun without me,” you murmur, your arm slinks around the middle of his back, “let’s get you back to your dorm,” 

“Hey he’s fine, he’s having fun with us,” Aiko glared at you, a hiccup leaving her lips, “don’t go crashing our good time because he’s not interested in you,” 

“Yeah why don’t you go hang out with Geto or whatever? We’ll take good care of him. C’mon Toru, let’s go to my place in Shibuya, I have a huge house there,” Yumiko says, barely coherent, and you raise your eyebrows at the nickname, as she leans in to whisper, alcohol wafting off her breath, as she lifts up her middle finger, “fuck off,” 

Honestly the only reason you can understand the gist of what she meant was because of her middle finger. Their other friend is passed out on the couch. 

“I don’t think any of you can even care for yourselves,” you scoff, and Satoru is hanging all over you already, mumbling words you can’t make out in your ear, “I’m taking him home, you should take your friend home,” 

“Geto, wanna help me out?” And Geto nods, trying to take Gojo other arm, but Gojo pushes him away, instead clinging to you, you stumble a moment before catching both of you, “Gojo—“ 

“No, wanna go home with just you,” he’s officially whining, and you’re having flashbacks to the summer you spent babysitting, but — you look at the drunk white porcupine clinging to you — somehow this idiot is worse than the kid. 

You sigh, “Geto, make sure that girl gets home safe,” you gesture to the one passed out on the couch, “I’m going to deal with this one,” 

Geto stares at the two of you, the far too tall Satoru hunched over onto your body, “Can you—“ 

But you’re already walking away, able to drag Gojo away with relative ease (it’d be far easier if he’d pull his own weight, but at least he was quiet). 

That was, until you got outside. And then the whining began again. 

“How can you treat me like this?” Gojo’s hands cling to your arm, his face buried in your shoulder, “you shouldn’t ignore the one you’re supposed to protect!” and he’s shaking his head like a petulant child, his bottom lip quivering. 

“You’re the one who left my side, not the other way around,” you grumble, as he’s finally beginning to walk by himself but he’s still stuck to your side like an overgrown cactus, “you’re the one who wanted to go to this goddamn party,” 

“Yeah but you’re the one who's supposed to protect me,” he pouts, as he stops right in front of his building, “I can’t do your job for you,” and he’s finally standing in front of you, his cheeks and nose still flushed from the alcohol, his hand still clutching at yours, “do you even know how to do your job?” 

You grit your teeth. Would punching the person you’re hired to protect be a breach of contract? You rub your temples, it may come to that. 

“You’re an idiot,” you jerk your hand away, shaking your head, “my job is to protect you, not to stop you from doing stupid college boy shit,” 

He’s crossing his arms, “I could have been in danger — what if that alcohol was poisoned? I feel really sick,” he grips, holding his stomach with pursed lips, and you’re thoroughly unimpressed. 

“I looked at it, it wasn’t poisoned,” you raise an eyebrow, before sighing, and shrugging your shoulder bag off your shoulders, rooting around in the pouch, “but if you want, I have something in my bag that will turn your stomach inside out and we’ll be sure to get the poison out,” 

“Nooooo, no! I’m fine,” he’s shaking his head, his voice grows soft, “I just need to get to bed,” he mutters, and you roll your eyes, but grab him by his wrist. 

“Come on, we’re going inside,” and it’s a struggle to get to his apartment — more like a luxury penthouse — on the top floor, but somehow you get him inside and shepherd into his bedroom. And he’s shrugging off his button up before pulling off the shirt underneath. 

Your gaze snaps away, cheeks burning, your eyes trying to erase the glimpse of his fucking unfairly chiseled physique — complete a surprisingly broad chest and shoulders — how the fuck was that hiding under his clothes? He looked like a stick normally with his clothes on. 

“See something you like?” he’s snickering, as you hear the click of his belt and the and sounds of rustling — assuredly stepping out of his jeans. 

“No, just not used to clients stripping for me,” you turn your back to him, as you hear the creak of the mattress and the crinkling of his comforter and sheets. 

“Am I just a client to you?” his words were still mildly slurred, and you knew he’d be pouting if he had enough brain cells to do so, “you can turn around, I’m under the covers,” he adds with a grumble. 

You turn and see him curled up under his blanket and you have to bite back your smile — now he most assuredly looked like one of the kids you used to babysit. 

“Well what else am I supposed to see you as, Gojo?” you cross your arms, and he’s muttering under his breath, “what?” 

“That’s just it. You don’t even call me by my first name,” he’s brooding, face twisted in a scowl, “I don’t have a lot of people I trust. Most people are just after my money or my looks,” he looks at you, “you’re different. Kinda weird,” 

You quirk an eyebrow, “is that a good thing?” 

“Well I trust you,” he admits, and you note the tips of his ears barely visible outside the comforter are red — is it still the flush from the alcohol? “I don’t really have many of those,” 

And you’re taken aback — you thought you were nothing but a nuisance to this party obsessed prince, but maybe there was more to him than you thought. You toyed the ring on your finger, maybe you had more in common than you thought. 

“Thank you, I’m glad you do, because you can, trust me that is,” you say softly, “good night, Satoru.” 

And he does sleep after that, as you spend the night keeping watch, half to ensure his safety and the other to make sure he slept on his side in case he threw up

(and he did, twice). 

“I need to talk to you,” Suguru Geto barely looked up from his phone when he saw Satoru in front of him, his best friend looking more irritable than usual — his usually bored affect seemed to be on holiday, “Suguru?” 

“I heard you the first time, what is it?” and Satoru snatches the phone from Suguru’s hands, “what the fuck—“ 

“What were you doing last night?” and Suguru tilts his head, before rubbing his temple.

“Give me my fucking phone—“ 

“What did you talk to her about?” And Suguru stares at him, his brow furrowed, smart mouth ready with a reply about a stint in a spa or a retreat was needed before his lips curl. 

“Oh. Her,” and he’s leaning back, a lazy shrug, “this and that,” 

“Cut the shit, Suguru, do you like her or not? Did you get her number?” And Satoru is trying to unlock Suguru’s phone, as Suguru watches with a tilt of his head and a wry grin on his lips, “huh? what is it?” 

“So you like her, that much is clear,” and he’s crossing his arms, “I assume you didn’t tell her or you wouldn’t have come in swinging and stealing?” 

Satoru stares at him, slack jawed and cheeks turning a deep pink that only carnations could rival, “No! She’s just a…friend of the family, and she’s not supposed to be with—“ 

“She told me she liked you,” his heart catches, mouth falling open, before Suguru’s lips curl, “well, she said that she was one of the many, rather,” 

Satoru’s cheeks burn, “It’s not like that, she barely even fucking looks at me. Can you believe that? Me?” and he gestures up and down his body. 

“I see your ego is still intact,” Suguru scoffs, shaking his head, before leaning back on his palms, “just tell her how you feel, Satoru, what’s the problem?” 

“The problem is I have no idea how she feels and it’s all your fault!” And Suguru raises an eyebrow, “you charmed her and I’m sure you’re the only one she’s thinking about now,” he covers his face, “and after what I said to her last night…” he couldn’t believe he admitted that you were the one of the only ones he trusted. And he called you weird. 

He honestly didn’t know what was worse. 

“What did you even say?” 

“Say to who?” and Satoru turns, finding you standing behind him, arms crossed. 

And Satoru cuts Suguru off before he can say a thing, “Not important. What are you doing here—“ you grab him by the wrist, a wave of heat makes his nearly burn red as you begin to drag him away, “what are you—“ 

“Bye Geto,” you say, waving at the raven haired student, before taking Geto’s phone and tossing it back to him, “I’m taking the idiot—“ 

“HUH?” 

“Good luck. He might need to be fed — he’s in a mood,” and he waves back, same smile on his lips. 

“What did you two do, adopt me?” Satoru grumbles as you pull him away, “where the hell are you dragging me? How did you even find me?” 

“The post hangover suits you well, we have to get to class, and I placed a tracker on you,” and he’s jerking his hand away, staring at you, “I have to be able to find you, don’t I?” 

“Where?” 

You tilt your head, “Why would I tell you? Don’t worry about, I’ll remove it after we’re done here,” 

You weren’t going to budge on this — and if he argued more, you would take it up with his father. And he would like to avoid that as much as possible. He sticks his hands in his pockets, , “I’m tired, can’t you just go and take notes for me?” 

“I thought you’d be more concerned about the threats against your life, instead of sending your bodyguard off to your class for you” you hiss, and he’s pouting again, unable to meet your gaze, “what’s your problem, Satoru?” 

And he pauses, the retort on lips dying as his brain looped in an infinite spiral of his name on your lips, “You called me ‘Satoru,’”

You tilt your head, “you told me to last night,” and then you add with a wicked grin, “remember? When you said I was one of the only people you trusted,” you tease, but he’s too busy hearing his name repeat in his head again and again, “Satoru—“ 

“Better be careful, sweetheart,” his lips curl into that annoyingly charming smile, “keep calling me by my first name and I may fall for you,” 

You glare at him, before rolling your eyes, “I see you’re feeling better now,” you walk forward, glancing back at him, “you coming?” 

And his wrist tingles still tingle from your touch, his lips quirk into a smile, “Yeah.” 

“Why did you become a bodyguard?” Satoru asks you, the movie you had haphazardly chosen still ongoing had all become background noise while you spoke, the illumination from the television screen being the only thing that kept your faces lit in the dark living room (he had insisted on shutting the lights off for an “authentic movie watching experience”). 

It had been a few weeks, with no signs of the threat posed ever being eliminated — still new threats were being made, and the Gojo family was still on edge. 

But you were on edge for a whole other reason. 

His fingers were still shoved in the bag of kettle corn he had been snacking on this entire time, but you could feel his gaze on you, instead of the movie. 

“What do you mean?” your eyes slide to him, as your phone’s ringer goes off with a spam email, and you silence it, keeping it on vibrate for emergencies, “and what’s with the sudden question?” 

The two of you had settled into your routine — days spent in class, meals shared, grocery shopping, and nights spent either in or out — but again, always together. And, it wasn’t bad — some of it was fun, to the point you almost forgot you were working. 

But you were working. Even now, as your legs are thrown up on the couch, crossed underneath you, your knee brushing against his thigh. 

He shrugs, “You owe me a question, remember?” and he reminds you of your promise from weeks ago — you had wondered why he had never asked you anything that night, “You never talk about yourself. You implied you have your degree, but not much else. From what I’ve seen of you, you’re intelligent — you could have done anything, why this?” and his lips curl into that mischievous, “unless you just had to guard me when you found out it was me,” 

You toss a throw pillow at him, but he catches it with ease, “If only your body was as bulletproof as your body,” and he huffs out a laugh, as you sigh, “why are you interested anyway?” 

“Because I am,” you scoff. 

“Nice reasoning,” he only grins, a thousand watt even in the dark. 

“I thought so,” and he’s holding the pillow to his chest, “c’mon, can you not tell me even one thing about yourself?” 

He wasn’t going to let this go was he? And you relent, chewing on your lip, “My family has been in this business for years — my grandfather, my father, my uncles, and my cousins, and I wanted to be one too. To protect people — it’s a lot more work than it seems. It’s quick thinking, critical reasoning, and analytical skills. It’s all I ever wanted to do after watching my dad do it,” you say softly, “but he didn’t think I was capable of it. He thought I was too soft. Too weak. So I decided to prove him wrong,” 

“You weak? Has your father met you?” and you huff a laugh, “I’m serious,” his cerulean pools meeting yours with not a ripple of hesitancy in them, “I’ve seen you — I don’t I’ve met anyone this determined, or stubborn,” he adds with a smirk. 

“I’m stubborn?” you gape at him, “this coming from the king of stubborn,” 

“Only if you’ll be my queen,” and you roll your eyes, but your cheeks burn, as your gaze turns back to the movie — why did your heart catch at his words? “but trust me, I’m very flexible in other aspects,” 

“Oh my god, is every other sentence that leaves your mouth a pick-up line?” and he opens his mouth, “don’t say ‘only for you,’ or I will be the only threat you have to worry about,” 

“Promise?” you grab another pillow, but he catches your wrist before you can toss it. Your breath catches, and you can’t meet his gaze — you can’t, because you know if you do— but then he whispers your name. 

And you can’t help it. You look at him. His eyes are so pretty. They were really the first things that struck you when you met him — that was before he opened his mouth. They looked like they contained multitudes, a far too beautiful ocean tucked behind sunglasses and an irritated scowl. But it wasn’t a secret that Satoru Gojo was attractive — especially not when every other person glared at you for simply being in his presence. But physical attractiveness meant little if a person wasn’t good — because superficiality could only take you so far. 

And you knew what it was like to be only judged superficially — and by the way Satoru’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes when these people chatted him up, he was far too used to it. 

And once he did speak, you had written him off as another rich kid — you had seen them a dime a dozen throughout your schooling and from the people your family was protected to hire. But there was something about him — something you couldn’t quite shake, even though every part of you was telling to do so. 

“What is it, Satoru?” And his fingers tug you a little closer, gently, his hand loose enough for you to slip away, but you don’t. Why don’t you? 

“You don’t always have to have your guard up,” his voice is soft, far too soft for the far too loud heir, “it’s okay to open up,” 

You shake your head, but still unable to pull away, “It’s dangerous,” and he laughs, a sound that only warms the thin icy barrier between you both, melting it to nothing. 

“Isn’t danger the whole reason we met?” And now his thumb brushes up and down against your wrist, and you wonder if he can feel your pulse roaring just underneath. 

You pull away again, shaking your head, as you cross your arms, trying to hold your resolve together, “I can’t do my job if I’m distracted,” and you couldn’t, even now, you weren’t evaluating any risks, you weren’t trying to find the source of the threats — no, you were too busy trying not to inch closer to your client, trying not to look at his lips, trying not to give in to what you wanted. 

“And I’m a distraction?” he looks far too pleased, but a thought seems to sour his smirk, “I thought Suguru was more of one,” and his lips are caught in a slight pout. 

“Geto was just keeping me company while you entertained those girls hanging on your every word,” you can’t dull the point to your words, and it replaces his pout with a grin. 

“So you were jealous,” 

“You’re the one who was jealous — you could have killed Suguru with your glare alone,” 

“But you didn’t deny it,” and it makes you stop — why didn’t you deny it? 

“I can’t do this,” and you’re pulling away, before flicking off the tv and rising from the couch your phone in hand, turning towards the hallway, “it’s late we should go to bed—“ but he’s catching your wrist again, “Gojo—“ 

“Satoru,” he corrects, and you hated how gentle his fingers felt around your wrist, “how are you supposed to protect me if you’re too busy running away from me?” 

“I’m great at multitasking,” and he’s drawing closer to you, his soft footfalls against the carpet, even as you step away from him, “my job is to protect you, we can’t get distracted—“ 

“I thought you were so good at multitasking,” he chuckles, his fingers find your wrist again, slipping to intertwine with your own, fingers interlaced, and your phone falls from your fingers and onto the couch, “what I said that night when I was drunk was true — I don’t have a lot of people I trust. People don’t understand. They put me on a pedestal or they don’t want me, they want the concept of me — not the reality,” 

“I’m not licensed as a therapist you know,” and he’s sighing. 

“Do you always have to deflect with humor? Because if we both do that, we’ll never get through a conversation,” and he squeezes your hand, “which I guess I don’t mind if that means you’ll stay,” 

“Satoru—“ 

“We don’t have to do anything now — we don’t have to do anything at all,” and you can feel his words warming your skin, “but don’t you feel something?” 

You hesitate, and you can’t look at him,  “No, I don’t,” 

“You’re not a very good liar — don’t they teach you that in bodyguard academy?” 

You snort, holding your head, “Is that where you imagined I got my training done?”

“Well, you don’t exactly like to share, now do you?” he’s stepping forward again, and you can’t bring yourself to run away anymore. 

“I shouldn’t,” and you hear the faint sound of his breath hitching, “but I do,” 

You don’t need to look at him to hear the smile on his lips, “so maybe it’s a distraction worth having,” 

“But—” and he’s gently turning you to face him, his fingers brushing a stray hair from your face, heat blooming with his touch, “Satoru…” 

“Why do you keep saying my name when you know I like hearing it?” he’s teasing, but you’re not shying away from his touch, as his fingers cup your chin now, upwards, so you meet his gaze, “maybe we should have had you pretend to be my girlfriend,” 

You chuckle, “Oh I could see that going wrong in so many ways,” and he’s leaning even closer, as he’s left the line you’d drawn far behind, marred it with his touch, and is luring you over to stumble over the edge with him. 

“Is this one of them?” 

“Probably,” and his lips brush against yours — he tastes sweet, the taste of kettle corn lingers, as his fingers cup your cheek now, and find purchase on his shoulder. It’s brief, a soft press that leaves you far too breathless, as if his touch had taken the air from your lungs, only to leave heat behind, “definitely,” 

“Is that a good thing or—” and your lips find his this time, a gasp you swallow with a smirk, and he melts into your touch, eager fingers grasping at the front of his shirt. And he responds in kind, his fingers tracing a path, as they tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before his hand settles on the back of your neck. 

His touch set every nerve ending on fire — a desperate wildfire that burned a trail across your mind and body — leaving only the crave of his touch behind, that left you wanting more, needing more.

“Was that good?” you murmur, as you take in your handiwork, his pink lips were bitten red by your kisses, his marble skin a lovely flush, and his gaze far too needy. God, it’s far too easy to get lost in him — pull your anchor from the shore and get lost in his gaze and touch, “god I shouldn’t ask that, we shouldn’t be doing this—” but your body refuses to pull away, and you don’t think by the grasp he has on you, that you’d be able to anyway. 

But he only gives you the same answer to each of your statements — he kisses you again, slower and more languid this time, as the two of you walk towards the bedroom, your hands reaching for each other and the walls, as you both stumble into his bedroom. 

“We don’t—” he says, between kisses, “I didn’t—” 

“I didn’t either, but—” you can’t stop touching him, you don’t want to, despite the logical part of you screaming at you to leave his room, it’s overridden by just how much you want him. He’s frustrating, he’s an idiot, he’s sweet, he’s cute, and he’s a little pathetic — but you liked that in a man. Every sense of logic is screaming at you to stop — but it all turns to white noise  “but I don’t want to stop.” 

He’s grinning as he pulls you into another kiss, his arms wrapping around his waist, pressing you against him, “That addicted already?” lips parting as he kisses down your neck, pulse jumping under his touch. 

“You’re just lucky Geto didn’t get to me first,” and he furrows his brow, before his teeth graze against the juncture of your neck and shoulder, drawing a gasp from your lips, “Satoru, what was that for—”  

“So everyone knows you’re mine? Including Suguru,” he’s sucking lightly at the mark, soothing his tongue, “and I’ll make sure he knows,” 

“Oh, I trust you’ll be subtle,” and he’s guiding you towards his bed, both of you falling onto it, his knee pressing your legs apart, as he hovers over you, his ocean gaze dark as a storm ridden sea. 

“Oh you know me, princess,” and his knee presses against your clothed cunt, rubbing against it teasingly, “subtlety is my specialty,” 

“Subtle as a truck,” you murmur, and he’s laughing as he kisses you again, making your lips curl, as his hands slide up your sides, squeezing your hips, “Satoru, please,” 

“What’s the fun if I don’t get to tease you?” he’s kissing needy kisses to your neck, as his knee doesn’t relent, grinding lightly against your increasingly wet core, slick leeching through the thin material of your shorts, “gotta make sure you want it right?”

“You treat all the people you bring home this well?” and he’s pausing, lips against your neck, “I didn’t mean anything—” 

“You’re the first,” you stare up at him, and he’s hesitant for once when usually he’s always barreling forward, “I’ve never brought anyone here,” and he licks his lips, a deeper flush settling over his porcelain skin, “I’ve never actually—” 

And you blink, “Really?” 

He huffs, “Is it that surprising—” 

“I mean a little, from the way everyone acts around you, and the way you act—” 

“Well, ‘act’ is the key word, now isn’t it?” he’s licking his lips as he looks down at you, “it’s easy to act when you know what they expect from you — a role to play,” 

“Well, the role’s been filled, so how about you just be yourself for me?” you murmur softly, a featherlight touch as you trace the curve of his jaw, and his lips find his smile under your delicate touch, “so I can ask, is this your first time like you asked me?” 

And he’s leaning up to kiss you, your hand resting against his chest, his heartbeat galloping under your touch, “And if I said yes?” 

You smile, before flipping him onto his back, his gaze wide as he stares up at you, “Then we better make it memorable.” 

“Please, I want to—“ his soft pants left his perfect lips, chest heaving as your fingers curled around his erection, far too hard from just what you had done. You’d stripped yourself and him bare — your inhibitions left far behind — as your lips kissed the tip of his aching cock.

“Lemme make you feel good, Satoru,” you murmur, looking up at him with fluttering eyes, your fingers smearing his pre cum along his length, and he’s pressing his head into the pillow, “s’big, can’t wait to feel you inside me,” you murmur, and you slowly pump him, drawing moan after moan from his lips. 

“Won’t last long—can’t—“ he’s biting his lip, his hips thrusting into your touch, before your lips suck at his tip again, and he’s gone, cumming hard all over your face and fingers. God, it never felt that good when he touched himself. Your fingers even brushing against him made him want to cum almost instantly, your soft touch and lips were enough to send him over the edge over and over again.  

He’s panting, eyes fluttering open to see you licking your lips clean with your tongue, as you meet his gaze with a grin, slowly sucking on each one of your fingers until you’ve cleaned yourself of his cum. 

“Princess, fuck,” he’s lying back on the pillow, as your lips slowly kiss back up his body, your tongue dragging between the fluttering muscles of his stomach and chest. 

“Already hard again?” You murmur, a smirk on your lips, “so sensitive for me,” 

He’s keening at your words, a whimper leaving his lips. His eyes are blown out in pleasure as he meets your gaze, and you kiss him again, sloppy and messy, as his tongue brushes against yours, your clothed pussy grinding against his erection. 

“Please,” he can’t help the words leaving his lips, “I need you,” 

“Is this the first time you’ve begged for something?” You tease him, smirk on your lips as your thumb teases one of his nipples, pulling a gasp from his lips, “such a good boy,” 

He hissed at your praise, “fuck—“ 

And you’re grinding against him, he’s already embarrassingly hard, blood rushing back to his cock as if it never left, as it drags against the all too wet fabric of your panties. And every small moan that leaves your lips leaving him needing more, his pre cum mixing with your cum that seeps through your panties, and is the second time he comes with you gonna be just grinding against each other on this bed? But he can’t help it if you keep nibbling at his neck like that, your pretty little pants in his ear, the head of his dick catching on your clit — so fucking good. 

“Toru, c-close, ngh, g’nna cum—“ and he’s nodding, forcing his eyes open to watch you cum, your chest shaking, as you hover above him, your eyes squeezed shut and lips parted as you said his name. 

“S’good,” he’s grunting, “Cum f’me,” and you both do, the slick and stickiness between your bodies almost unbearable, as you both pant, as you rest your head against his shoulder. 

The silence sinks in for a moment, as you kiss his cheek, “we can stop here if you want,” your voice is soft, nose brushing against his neck, “don’t want to make you—“

And he’s flipping you onto your back, his fingers finding the waistband of your shorts, your breath hitching as he drags the material down your legs, and tosses it behind him, “I want this, I want you, and I won’t stop saying it until you believe it,” he leans down, breath warming your breasts through your shirt, before his lips suck at your clothed nipples, making you shiver, “you like that, huh?” 

“Shut up,” your cheeks burn, but he’s only tugging your shirt over your head and off, his gaze hot as he drags his eyes down your exposed body, and it makes you squirm, “Satoru — please—“ 

“Now who’s the one doing the begging?” he leans down to suck on your nipple, while his fingers toy with the other between his thumb and forefinger, “I wanna learn what makes you feel good — wanna make you cum under my touch, wanna taste you,” he switches sides, his teeth grazing the skin of your breast, sucking a mark before soothing it with his tongue, “mine,” 

“Satoru, fuck, I want—“ and his fingers trace down your body, making you gasp, he’s kissing down your chest and then your stomach, tongue dipping into your bellybutton, “you fucking—“ 

“Gotta make you feel good don’t I?” he has a shit eating grin on his lips, as he settles between your thighs, and his fingers press against the growing wet patch on your panties, “though it looks like you’re already feeling good,” 

You bite back a whimper, “Are you gonna make me feel good or are you gonna keep talking—“ you moan when his thumb bears down on your needy clit, rubbing it through the nearly translucent fabric of your underwear. 

“What was that, sweetheart?” And he’s snapping the waistband of your panties against your skin, “couldn’t hear you,” 

“You fucker—“ and he’s kissing your clothed cunt through the wet fabric, nose brushing against your clit, making you nearly shake, as he inhales before he moans. 

“So sweet, must taste even sweeter,” he murmurs before tugging your underwear down, before you’re kicking it off, making him chuckle, “so eager,” and you scowl up at him, ineffective from the way lips are parted, “you’re so cute,” 

“I’m not cute,” you pout, and he’s laughing, a noise you could drown in, just as you do his eyes. 

“You’re very cute, and I’ll tell you as many times as it takes you to believe it,” and his lips press soft kisses to your thighs, “my cute bodyguard, you gonna guard my heart as well as you do my body?” 

And before you can reply his breath is warming your soaked cunt, his fingers parting your folds apart, your clit was puffy, your sex slick with your mixed juices, “so pretty, this all just for me?” And you hiss as he holds your outer lips apart, “so this is what your pussy looks like, huh?” And your thighs are twitching, trying to shut, but his palms hold you apart, his heated gaze meeting your shy ones, “you’re perfect, don’t hide from me, you’ve done enough of that,” and he kisses your clit, making you moan, “and I won’t have that anymore,” 

“Satoru—“ and his tongue drags over the length of your dripping pussy experimentally, tip of his tongue flicking against your clit, fuck, how can he this good at this? Your toes are already curling as he groans, his fingers sliding under your thighs, and tugging you impossibly closer to his face. Your fingers weave into his white locks, “‘ngh— 

“Be a good girl and take it,” he grunts against you, slurping your juices, the sounds of his tongue buried in your cunt, fucking you open, dragging across your walls, “taste s’fucking good, how’d I hold out this long without tasting you?” And your eyes flutter open at his groans, seeing him grind down on the sheets, so fucking horny from eating you out, “g’nna just cum from your taste alone, Princess,” you’re so incredibly soft, so soft, despite your walls being so tough, and it makes only eat you eat you from the inside out. 

You’re so close, and all you hear is the sounds of his greedy tongue swallowing you whole, and the sound of your heartbeat and short gasps. Your walls flutter around his tongue, your thighs twitching under his touch, hips jolting forward to meet his touch, his tongue so fucking deep that you can’t see straight, “Toru, please, I’m so close—“ 

And you feel him groan into your pussy, redoubling his efforts before his fingers find your clit and rub at it while he sucks at your cunt. You cum hard, fingernails digging into his scalp, as your back arches as he eagerly eats you out through your orgasm. The wet squelch of your cunt and his tongue slurping against you, drinking every drop you offer him. 

And then finally he’s pulling away with a pop, his chin and mouth dripping with your release and his spit, pink tongue darting out to clean up your cum from his face, wiping off the rest as he looked up at you from white lashed half lidded eyes. 

And you can’t even speak, still coming down from your high, as he kisses up your body again, your thighs still shaking from your orgasm, your fingers reaching for his cheek, tracing his jaw, before cupping his cheek. 

“How the fuck do you know how to do that well?” And he flashes a pretty smile, as he drags his thumb down your lips. 

“I said I was a virgin, I didn’t say I didn’t know how to do some things — and as you know, I’m an excellent student,” and you huff, raising an eyebrow, “and I’m naturally good at everything,” 

“And always so humble,” he laughs, before he kisses you again, letting you taste yourself on his sweet lips, and you’re rolling him over onto his back, his erection slick with precum, pressing against your sensitive cunt, “let me make you feel good now,” you murmur, his cock twitching against you, “wanna ride you, Toru, need you in me,” 

And he’s hissing, as he moves to sit against the headboard, “You keep talking like that princess, I’m g’nna cum before you even—“ and your fingers are reaching between your bodies, and you’re stroking him, smearing his precum over the length of his shaft, making his hips jerk, “fuck—” 

You’re so fucking pretty — your teeth baring down on your bottom lip, as you straddle him, hovering still, his aching tip barely brushing against your dripping cunt, “are you sure?” you murmur, eyes meeting his own, and his lips quirk into a smile. 

“Never been more sure of anything,” and you sink onto him, thick length parting your folds, and he groans, as you fit him in your pussy, inch by inch, until your hips are flush. And fuck, he’s never felt anything better — pleasure runs up and down his body, as his hands find their way to your hips.

You’re tense at first, your back slightly arched, and when he shifts under you, a moan is ripped from your lips, as you begin to adjust to his size, “s’big, Toru, gonna make it hard for me to last too, feels too good,” you’re mumbling, and he’s holding his hips taut, making sure not to move — or else, he’s sure he’d cum in one stroke, “g’nna move ok?” and he’s nodding desperately, your walls already fluttering around him — slick and warm, better anything he’d ever felt. 

You lift up to the tip, before beginning to rock steadily up and down, as he moans, your sweet cunt swallowing him eagerly, as you began to fuck yourself on his cock. Your chest bounces as you ride him, and he can’t resist leaning forward to take a hardened bud in his mouth, your moan making his cock twitch inside you. And he knows why people become addicted to sex — hell, he knew was an addict for it now, but only with you. 

“Fuck, never felt anything this good before, sweetheart, feel s’perfect for me,” he’s grunting, the coil in his stomach growing tighter, as your pace grows more and more sloppy. He wasn’t going to last long, and neither were you from the way you were groaning his name again and again. The wet squelch and smacks of your bodies meeting again and again, only making it harder to hold back, and when he looks to see a white ring of your precum pooling around the base of his dick, he’s nearly gone, “fuck, baby, need you to cum with me,” 

“It’s okay, pretty boy, cum for me,” he keens at the praise, but he’s stubborn, as you established, and he won’t cum until you do too — and so he ensures it, reaching between your bodies to rub meanly at your clit before meeting your thrusts with his own. 

And his tip brushes against that spot that has your vision blurring and toes curling, “Toru, ngh, I’m—” and you’re cumming hard around him, making him spill his warm and thick seed inside your cunt, and he’s groaning you name as he does, your body slowing as you both come down from your highs, your head resting on his shoulder, as your bodies grow limp, resting, his back pressed to the headboard of his bed. 

His fingers trace the curve of your back gently, as he turns his head to press soft kisses to your neck, “Am I still just a distraction?” his lips curled into a smile, and you chuckle, burying your face in his shoulder. 

“Definitely,” but you lean back to cup his cheek, and look at his pretty face again, “but one worth having.” 

You don’t wake from your alarm the next morning. 

Instead, you wake to banging on the door. You both jolt awake, and he’s pulling you into his arms, even as you move to get up, he won’t let go, strong arms around your waist. You’re easing his arms off, trying to be gentle, “Toru, let go, and wait here, your father had a panic room installed in your closet, you hear anything, go inside—” 

“No, I’m coming with you,” and you shake your head. 

“I’m hired to protect you, not the other way around,” you leave his embrace, and face him, his crystal eyes blurred over with worry, “I can handle this,” you reassure him, your fingers intertwining with his, as you press a kiss to his knuckles, “I promise,” 

“But—” and you kiss him gently, silencing his protests, before you slip away into the hallway. 

You enter the living room, shutting the bedroom door without a sound, stalking through the hall, as you grab a knife and pepper spray from the chest of drawers that was pressed to the wall of the hallway — you had several self defense tools hidden all over the apartment. Your heartbeat thunders in your ear, mouth dry, as you approach the door from the side. 

“Who is it?”

“It’s Mr. Gojo, open this door,” and you sigh, relaxing, as you check and unlock the door for him. 

Shinsaku Gojo was only a man you were able to meet once before your work for him began. And it was a privilege even to see him then. His schedule was always packed — multiple meetings, multiple clients, and multiple women, all vying for his attention. Even as you spoke with him the first time, his eyes were on his phone the entire time, except when he had warned you, not to let anything distract you from protecting his son. 

And you had done just that — and even worse, his son had done the distracting, “Mr—” 

“Where’s my son? He hasn’t answered his phone all morning, and neither have you—didn’t you hear from your agency?” his voice is raising, as he dials your number again, and your phone vibrates on the couch. He scoffs, disconnecting the call, as his hard gaze turned back to you, “what if there was a threat? You left your phone—” 

“Dad,” Satoru emerges from the room, his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, “it’s not her fault, she forgot it last night when we were watching a movie,” 

“Watching a movie?” he sneers, his cerulean gaze the same as son, but without any of the warmth Satoru had — an icy tundra compared to a warm pool, “she should be watching you, that’s her job—” 

“She was watching me — something you never bothered to do,” and his father’s eyes narrow, “she’s shown more concern for me than you ever had — and she only met me a few weeks ago. What’s your excuse for being a pathetic piece of—“ 

“Satoru,” your fingers brush his shoulder, shaking your head, “sir, I take responsibility for this lapse of judgment. Don’t blame your son,”

Satoru lowers his voice, “it’s not your fault—“ 

“It is. I disregarded by duty to protect you,” your cheeks burn with shame — “what if i had missed an alert you were in danger? What if I failed to protect you because I wasn’t focused? What if—“ 

“Nothing happened,” he says softly, and the twitch of his fingers tells you he’s gonna reach for you, but you step forward, shaking your head. 

“Nothing did,” and you turn to his father, “I’ll protect Satoru until you can find a suitable replacement for me. But I compromised my mission to protect him. I would like to resign as soon as possible,” 

“No! I—“ 

“Agreed,” his father says, “I’ll have your replacement here in an hour, make sure you’re packed up by then,” and his father leaves without another word. 

You brush past him to gather your things, but he’s caught you by the wrist, “Why did you do—“ 

“Gojo,” and you can’t bear to see the hurt in his eyes, “I can’t let my feelings get in the way of keeping you safe—“ 

“I don’t care—“ you cut him off. 

“I do, I couldn’t stand if something happened to you because of me. What it was an emergency last night and you got hurt because of my own carelessness—“ 

“It wasn’t careless what happened last night—“ 

“It was,” you say, walking to your room, “and it won’t happen again.” 

You left. You had expected a fight, an argument, a dramatic show of tears — but nothing. Satoru hadn’t even opened his door to watch you leave. The other bodyguard arrived quickly, and you left the penthouse and didn’t look back. 

It was for the best. 

You had a duty, a role to play, and more than that, you couldn’t let him get hurt because of your inability to compartmentalize. Even so, Satoru’s father was kind enough not to have told your father what happened — or you supposed it was pity in exchange for your quick and easy resignation. 

Fuck. Why were you still thinking about this? You rolled over in bed, burying your head under your comforter. A week out, and you still couldn’t stop worrying about Satoru, about his safety, about the hurt on his face, about that night… 

You had fucked everything up, and fucked Satoru up in the aftermath. 

You poke your head out, and stare at your phone on your bedside table — 7:45 PM, no new messages — you had written out six different messages to him again and again, before deleting them. You wondered how many more you’d write before you finally would rid your mind of him. 

Would you ever rid your mind of him? 

And that’s when your phone rings. But it’s not flashing Satoru’s number — it’s his father. You scramble for the phone — why was he calling? And you can only think of one reason. You can’t say a single word when you pick up — his father already hissing his first question.  

“Where is he?” your words are lodged in your throat, stuck on your heart that had leapt from your chest. 

“What?” 

“Where’s Satoru? He came to you didn’t he?” he growls, and you hear a slam, assumedly his fist against his desk, “he shook off his new bodyguard, and his phone is off,” 

“He hasn’t — I haven’t talked to him since I left—” your mind is running a mile a minute, racking your brain, placing the call on speakerphone, as you text Satoru, where are you? “Where did the bodyguard see him last?” 

“He had him at the dorms, he said he was going to see a friend, and then gave him the slip,” his father groans, “you hear anything from him, otherwise—” 

“I’ll let you know,” you cut him off at the threats — you had more important things to do. You checked your messages, but your messages hadn’t gone through, and you tried calling him — but it went straight to voicemail. Satoru was upset — he could’ve blocked you or turned off his phone to piss off his father, but you didn’t see him doing that. He was an idiot, but he knew his father would lose his shit. 

And then you remembered. The tracker you placed on Satoru — you never took it off. You had sewed it into the insole of his daily shoes (the man had far too many clothes and shoes, but he rarely found the energy to not wear anything besides the shoes he always wore). 

You turned it on, biting your lip as you watched the tracker loaded, and his location popped up — and it wasn’t at his apartment. 

It was in Shibuya — you typed in the address and he was at a house. 

You furrow your brow, who did he know who lived in Shibuya? And then it clicked. 

Fuck. 

Those girls. 

Satoru groaned, fuck, why is his head hurting so badly? 

It wasn’t exactly unusual the last few days. He hadn’t been sleeping much since you left, he spent most of his nights watching TV and rotting in his bed. But everything reminded him of you — his bed, his couch, and even the shows he watched (he had continued one of the shows you both had started one late night). 

His apartment was a disaster — a mess of empty soda cans, empty wrappers of candy and old takeout containers. But he couldn’t be bothered with it — to clean it up or call someone to clean it up. His bodyguard had taken up residence in your room — or rather the guest room — and hardly emerged, keeping an eye on him through cameras his father had installed around the doors and hallway. 

Not that he really needed to, Satoru rarely left his apartment, even had skipped classes for a week — sending an email that he had a very contagious illness and that he’d be happy to attend class if necessary. They sent him materials to work on classwork from home, piled untouched on his kitchen counter, with a possible smudge from the hot fudge he had last night. 

He had made progress — instead of staying in bed, he moved onto the couch for his afternoon nap, and he had just fallen asleep when there was a banging on his door. He groaned into the couch pillow he had just gotten comfortable on, before pulling it onto his head, trying to block out the sounds of the knocking. 

“Satoru! Open up,” he hears Suguru’s voice through the door, “open the fucking door, I know you’re not sick,” 

He pulls himself up, groaning, as he wipes the small amount of drool from his lips, as he meanders to the door, throwing it open. 

“You look like shit,” Suguru says, brushing past him to enter. 

“No ‘hello, you look like shit?’” He mumbles, still rubbing his eyes, “what are you doing here?” 

“I should be asking you that,” he stands, hands in his pockets, as he takes in the mess with a wrinkled nose, “although I see you’ve decided to redecorate,”

“Hilarious,” Satoru replies, lying back on the couch, “did you come here just to hassle me?” 

“I’d be lying if I didn’t say that wasn’t part of it, but the other was to see if you’re ready to pick yourself back up after your breakup—“ 

“It wasn’t a breakup,” Satoru snaps. 

“If it wasn’t, then why does it look like you haven’t showered in several days since she left?” Suguru raises an eyebrow, and Satoru scowls. 

“I’m sick,” he turns away to face the couch, “I don’t have the energy to shower,” 

“But you have the energy to eat about half a dozen mochi doughnuts?” Suguru holds up an empty doughnut box, and Satoru holds a couch pillow to his chest, “Satoru, come on, it isn’t like you to wallow like this,” 

“I’m not wallowing—“ 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re sick, right?” Suguru says sarcastically. Satoru doesn’t need to look at his best friend to know he’s rolling his eyes, “well you don’t seem like you’re sneezing or coughing so go take a shower or something,” Satoru gives a weak fake cough, and he could feel Suguru’s glare, “fine, rot in bed, but you have to get up sometime, just text me when you’re ready to,” 

And Satoru hears Suguru’s footsteps recede to the door, swinging shut with a click behind him. He buries his face in the pillow. It wasn’t a break up. How could it be when you didn’t even have a relationship to begin with? You had made that clear enough when you left without another word to him. He didn’t leave his room until he heard the door shut behind you, and he made his way out to watch you leave out the front door of the apartment. And you didn’t even look back. But you weren’t the type to. 

He felt like he was always looking back — one way or another. 

And even now, as he came to — he was trying to remember what he had done after Suguru left. Someone else had shown up — knocked at his door. Offered to get him out of the house — offered him free alcohol and a distraction. 

And he had agreed — if only to forget about you for a moment. Drinking was the only thing that made him forget — if he only could somehow forget how terrible alcohol tasted. 

His head spun, so was this a hangover? It’s certainly worse than the one he had before — the last one felt like his brain was fuzzy and nausea clawed at his stomach — this time, it felt more akin to someone taking a blender to both of those organs. And his neck, he stretched it both ways. How had he fallen asleep? 

And then he tried to lift up his hand to rub his eyes, and he couldn't, wrist straining against something — his brow furrowed, what was arm caught on — and his eyes fluttered open. It was dark — the only light came from another room, peeking through the crack at the bottom of, what he assumed was, a door. And then as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he looked at his arms. 

Ropes. Twisted around both his arms, binding his wrists and forearms to the arms of a chair, and his vision blurs — what? His legs jerk instinctively, but ropes dig into the flesh of his ankles, and he glanced down only to find what he expected. 

“You’re awake,” the light flicks on, he lifts his head, blinking away the fog in his head and the burning tears slipping from his eyes, “didn’t realize the drug would knock you out for that long,”

He blinks again and again, light flooding his eyes, until he can see and sees a familiar face — “Misaki?” the light sends a piercing jolt through his head, “or is it Yumiko?” 

“Well that’s flattering, you can’t even remember my name?” she sighs, crossing her arms, “well I unfortunately don’t have the same luxury,” and then she adds with a quirk of her lips, “it is Yumiko,” and she steps forward, as his eyes squeeze shut, his head still banging, “sorry what I gave you to knock you out can cause some light sensitivity,” 

It’s slowly sinking in, “I don’t know what kind of weird kink you have, but I’m not interested,” and she scoffs, pressing her knuckles to her chin, “where am I?” 

“Do you think I’m really going to tell you that?” she raises an eyebrow, “I did send you threats after all, you don’t think I’d be that stupid to tell you where I am,” 

He needed to buy time, he needed to find a way to get out of here, and to do that, he needed time, “What? Are you obsessed with me or something? Do you want my body?”

“I’m going to stop your overinflated ego there,” she sighs, leaning against a table that was behind her, “I have a debt to pay and you’re the price,” 

“Debt?” he repeats, “is this where you explain your whole plan? And villain speech? Because I usually I could care less, but I’m feeling a little generous with my time, as I’m a little tied up at the moment, so—” 

“Do you ever shut up?” 

“It’s known to happen on occasion,” she rubs her temples, and then something occurs to him, “how did you get my address? You showed up and invited me,” 

She shakes his head, “You think I couldn’t find out your address after sending you threats?” and she sighs, “You know this is why I tried to do this at the first party — get it over with so I wouldn’t have to deal with this. But then you crushed your beer cup, your little girlfriend got in the way, and that idiot Misaki accidentally switched her shot glass with yours, so I couldn’t get you dosed,” she grits her teeth, “and then the rest of the semester, your girlfriend was up your ass the entire time — but she wasn’t your girlfriend was she? She was your bodyguard,” he says nothing, “you don’t need to confirm it for me, I already found her information, her name, her address—” 

“What do you want? Money? My father will pay anything to get me back. Tell me who you need to repay and he’ll do it,” and her lips curl. 

“So serious now — and so cooperative, maybe I should have kidnapped her too while I was at it,” she shrugs, while she grabs her phone from the table — a burner — “my father will be here to escort you to where you need to go. The yakuza will take it from there,” his blood runs cold, “Don’t cause a fuss and i can promise your girlfriend will stay safe,” 

He grits his teeth — he was so stupid. This was exactly the kind of shit you were trying to protect him from. And it was the thing he landed himself in the moment you left. But he didn’t care — because it was better this way, because you were safe this way.

“Wow, you’re pretty cute when you’re all quiet,” and she’s walking over, and he’s flinching as she drags a manicured nail down his cheek, before tilting it up, “it’s just that mouth that’s a problem,” and her thumb brushes down his lips, “don’t bite, or we might have a problem,” 

And he doesn’t, but then he smiles back, “you might like it when I bite,” he smirks, “why don’t you come here and find out?” And she raises her eyebrows, leaning closer, and he smashes his forehead into hers, “fuck off,” 

She stumbles back, losing her balance, and leaning against the table as she clutches at her forehead. Satoru watches her, trying to wriggle out of his constraints, rope chafing against his skin, red welts rising on his skin, but he only manages to get one hand free before she’s starting to get her bearings, and then he’s trying to free himself, his chair tipping over. And now he’s lying helplessly as she stumbles forward over to him, clutching a knife she grabbed off the table. 

“I have to hand you over to the yakuza, but they didn’t say you had to be completely unharmed,” she presses the tip of the knife to his cheek, “maybe we’ll do something to that pretty face of yours,” he grits his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut. 

CRACK. 

He hears a body slump over, and the clatter of the knife against the cement floor, and his eyes open to find you kneeling beside him. He’s blinking, murmuring your name, “What are you—” 

“Well I never did remove that tracker did I?”  You’re cutting the ropes on his wrists and ankles with the knife, “and I’m lucky you wear the same damn shoes everyday,” 

“Why did you come for me?” he says, as you finally free him his restraints, your fingers gentle as they examine the welts and bruises left on his skin, “you could have just told my father where I was or the police,” 

“I could’ve. I saw where you were and I figured it out—“ and your voice wavers, “but all I could think was that I wanted to find you. And I didn’t wanna wait for anyone else. I didn’t want something to happen just because someone else was too slow,” the lump in your throat grows only larger, as you sit, “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you,” 

“Why?” he asks softly, his fingers brush against your cheek, and he knows why — he does, but he needs to hear it. 

“Because I just want…to be the one to protect you,” you admit, tears burning at your eyes, as your thumb traces over his rope burns and bruises, “I wish that I could have,” 

“You did a pretty good job, considering I almost was about to get my face cut up,” and he gently wipes your tears away, “imagine what a tragedy that would be,” 

You give a watery chuckle, cupping his cheeks, “I’m sorry,” and he opens his mouth, “no i really am. I shouldn’t have slept with you, only to cut and run after. I thought…I thought I was doing you a favor,” 

“How?” And you sigh, blinking away your tears. 

“I put your life in danger by doing that. I couldn’t do that. I knew the only way you’d let me go is…if I lied to you and said I didn’t care about you,” you bite your bottom lip, “and I’m sorry because I only hurt you more in the end,” 

He kisses your lips gently, chastely, his breath warming your lips as he parts from them, “you did,” and you scoff, pushing him playfully, “but as long as you promise not to do it again, I think I can find it in my incredibly generous heart to forgive you,” 

You kiss him again, softly, your fingers sliding to the back his neck, into his undercut, “I promise,” and he grins, before leaning back to kiss you again, when a cough behind you catches your attention. 

“My father will be getting here shortly you idiots, while you gaze fucking stupidly into each other’s eyes,” she sneers, and you raise an eyebrow. 

“You think I’d come here without calling the police? They already have picked up your father — and they should be almost here—“ and the sounds of an ambulance and police sirens come into earshot. 

“Good timing,” Satoru mutters, as Yumiko tries and fails to stumble to her feet, and you get up and pin her to the ground. Satoru raises an eyebrow, and watches, as you glance back at him, tilting your head in question, “nothing, it’s just…hot to see you in action,” 

You laugh, “Did she hit your head too?” And he shrugs, as he gets onto this feet with shaky legs, “Satoru—“ 

And he sits next to you, leaning on your shoulder, “just let me rest here for a minute,” he mumbles. 

For the first time since you left, Satoru felt like he could finally rest. 

And Satoru did rest, he realized as he blinked awake to the ambient sounds of the hospital room, the distinct beep of the heartbeat monitor, the dim light of the moon filtering through the shades, and the distant sounds of people walking through the hall. He hears the sounds of sheets rustling, and his gaze snaps over to his left. 

His gaze softens. You were fast asleep beside him, your arms tucked under your head, your breaths were soft, as they were the night you two had spent together. He sat himself up — fingers running through your hair gently. You had fallen asleep before him that night, face buried in the crook of his neck, and your legs entangled with his. And now you slept beside him on a chair, leaning on his bedside. 

His fingers carded through your hair again, and you stirred, as he swore under his breath, your eyes fluttered open, “Toru?” you mumbled, still half asleep, and he hummed. 

“Sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he sighed softly, “why are you sleeping here? You should have gone home,” you sit up, stretching, as you furrow your brow, eyes scanning him for any sign of an injury or distress. 

“I wanted to make sure you were okay — you were unconscious, but no concussion thankfully. I tried to wake you up but you wouldn’t wake,” you sigh, words tumbling out almost faster than you can think of them, “they mostly kept you for observation, but are you feeling okay? Should I get the nurse—“ 

And he’s pulling you into a hug, arms wrapping around you, as he sighs, burying his face in your neck, “I just want to stay like this for a while,” he murmurs, “I got everything I need right here, got it?” He feels you nod, and he feels the hint of your tears on his skin, but says nothing, only his lips quirk, “you did mean your promise?” 

“I did, I won’t leave like that again,” and he’s leaning back, head tilted, and you chuckle, “I mean I won’t leave you at all, how’s that?” 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, leaning closer, and his heart squeezes when he hears your breath hitch as he does. His eyes flicker to your lips and back, “can I kiss—“ 

But you kiss him first, softly, your fingers brushing his cheek, and god, why was it that a single touch from you melted him away to nothing? Whittled his world view to a pin where all he could feel, all he could see, was you. 

And then you kiss his cheeks, his chin, his jaw, and then your teeth graze the soft part of his neck, drawing a pretty gasp from his lips, as you suck lightly on his skin. 

He’s whispering your name, breath sucked from his lungs as if your teeth had pierced through his throat instead of just his skin, “what was that for?” 

And you smile, “so everyone knows you’re mine.” 

“You’re changing your major?” Suguru raises his eyebrow, as he lounges on Satoru’s couch, holding his head up with his elbow propped against the top of the couch, “your father must’ve been thrilled about that,” 

“He lost his shit, but that geezer can fuck off,” Satoru shrugs, “he threatened to not pay my tuition, but once I threatened to go public with his dealings with the yakuza, he saw it my way,” 

Suguru tilts his head, “His what?” 

You bring over tea from the kitchen, placing it on the table, “After what Satoru found out from Yumiko and her father, their debt to the yakuza would have been paid off by kidnapping one of Satoru’s father’s close relatives, but I was wondering why was the yakuza so eager to do so?” 

“Apparently my old man had the brilliant idea of entertaining the yakuza on some deal he was making,” Satoru explains, leaning back on the couch, as you sit against his legs, “and when he backed out, the yakuza wanted to push it through anyway — and well, thus their blackmail of Yumiko’s father, once they found out his daughter went to school with me.” 

“Yeah, turns out her father had gambling debts owed to the yakuza,” you sighed, “she got caught in the crossfire — I almost feel bad,” 

“Speak for yourself, she drugged me, tied me to a chair, and held a knife to my face,” Satoru scoffs, sipping his tea that he had you drown in sugar. 

“Well you didn’t complain when I did that last night,” you reply, making both Satoru and Suguru choke, and you laughed, squealing when Satoru lifts you into his lap to bury his face into your back. 

“You two are officially sickening to be around,” Suguru grimaces, still coughing from choking down his tea, “I think I liked it better when he was wasting away in his apartment,” 

“You wasted away after I left?” You turn to look at Satoru, who shoots a glare at Suguru, “sorry Geto, that’s not happening again,” and Satoru softens his gaze, pressing a kiss to your head. 

“Alright, that’s it, I’m leaving,” Suguru gets to his feet, as he glances back at you two, “don’t rush to get up, I’ll see myself out,” he rolls his eyes. 

“Don’t worry we weren’t going to,” Satoru pulls you closer, and Suguru narrows his eyes, before his lips curl into a grin. 

“Just for that, I’m sending your girlfriend a picture of the mess you looked like when she left,” Satoru gapes at him, while you bite back a laugh. 

“Suguru!” Satoru calls, but the door’s shut, and you’re starting to giggle. He’s pouting now, “so my girlfriend thinks it's funny to see me in the pathetic state she left me in?” 

“Oh your girlfriend finds it very funny, and she might even make it her boyfriend’s contact picture,” you smirk, and he’s biting back a smile, “What?” 

“This is just the first time we called each other that,” he mumbles, a slight dusting of pink on his cheeks, “it’s nice,” he admits. 

“Well, I am yours, aren’t I?” you smile, and he presses a kiss to your lips, as he would again and again. 

“My one and only.” 

��� a/n: so this fic was so freaking long. i'm sorry it took so long to post this - i got a little sidetracked by prof geto haha. but i'm hoping to start on the next one soon :). i think i'll put a poll up on which one i should write next! edit: forgot to tag the people who requested this, its now added in T_T

✧ taglist: @teatreeoilll, @intrxspectiv, @marvel-fanaticz, @ilovemybabes, @lwustyz, @jayathelostdragon, @vampzys, @sleazymac-n-cheesy, @soilmayo, @iwassentfromhell, @lobotomy-kaisen, @gojoallmine, @forest-hashira, @h3artpiecexx, @lailarratx, @gummibat, @hanlay, @ilovewoo9, @nvmlolo, @h6avenly, @eriyvesa, @alexandraioann4, @eclipsephase, @sokkasmoon, @aizzon, @makotome9, @daddytojji, @fluffy-pancakes01, @imjustmememe, @spookyy-gracee, @forest-fruits-jam, @that-goth-bisexual, @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @lookinreality,

[surftrips]

luke x daughter of aphrodite!! maybe a super cute fluff where they help luke show percy around and just their experience with percy!

-🥽 anon

stop this prompt is soo cute ! thanks for sending it in <3

"You okay?" Luke asked the newest camper in his cabin.

"Super."

"We all have them, you know." Luke clicked his tongue. "Intense, recurring nightmares. That's normal here. For the first time in your life, you're just like everyone else."

"So are you also... Do you not know who your..." the blonde boy began to ask.

"Am I unclaimed?" Luke shook his head. "No, Hermes is my father. That doesn't matter though, we're all on the same team here."

"Why is it okay they ignore some of us?"

"Spend too much time figuring out what the gods do whatever it is they do, you'll drive yourself crazy. Sooner you can stop worrying about that, the sooner you can enjoy what this place actually does offer."

"And what's that?"

Luke smiled, guiding Percy out the door to show him the rest of camp.

The two boys ran into Clarisse and the Ares kids first. Luke explained to Percy that the Ares kids were always confrontational and brutally honest, but he had nothing to worry about, as long as he was around.

"Come on, let's go figure out what you're good at."

After crossing off archery and metalworking, and dodging several near death experiences, they sat down for lunch.

"Is there a Greek god of disappointment?" Percy sighed.

"We're gonna find the thing you're good at, I know it," Luke reassured him. "We should try-"

Before he could finish his sentence, Luke's eyes lit up and a smile crossed his face, causing Percy to turn around.

A girl came over to Luke's side of the table and kissed the top of his head. "Hi, love."

Luke beamed, turning toward Percy. "Y/N, this is Percy, I'm giving him the tour. Percy, Y/N. She's in Aphrodite."

That much he could tell, Percy thought she was one of the most beautiful girls he had ever seen.

"Ah, bonjour! Comment ça va?" she asked him.

Percy looked confused, only recognizing the first part of the sentence. "Uhhh... hello?"

Y/N smiled softly, "Guess he's not in Aphrodite then. Any luck finding out your skill, Percy?"

"No, unforunately," Percy grumbled.

"Aw, don't worry. Soon enough you'll be like Luke here," she had moved to sit in his lap by now, one of his arms curled around her waist. "Did you know he's the best swordsman at camp?"

She looked at Luke proudly, Percy swore he saw hearts instead of pupils in her eyes.

"I think it's come up once or twice," Percy responded.

The Aphrodite girl smiled again, "Have you shown Percy the lake yet?" she asked Luke.

"No, not yet. Do you want to come with us?"

"You mean, do I want to show him the place where we met? Is that even a question?"

The trio finished up their food and headed back outside. Y/N led the way, her presence enough to clear a path in the group of campers idling outside. Luke and Percy followed a few feet behind her.

"So... how long have you two been...?" Percy asked shyly.

"Three years. Since we were 16," Luke responded. Though Percy had only known Luke for about a day at this point, he couldn't help but notice how Luke's entire demeanor had changed since Y/N's arrival.

"Oh, wow. That's a long time."

"I got really lucky."

"What do you mean?"

"Before I got here, I had nobody. I mean, there was Annabeth and Thalia, but they're like my sisters. Y/N was the one that showed me what love is."

"Is that what you meant earlier? About enjoying what this place has to offer?"

He smiled. "You might be surprised, Percy."

"Are you boys coming or not?" Y/N called back toward them.

"Yes, ma'am!" Luke yelled back, jogging up to where she was. They were almost at the lake by then.

"So, Percy, anyone at camp catch your eye yet?" Y/N asked, her hand wrapped around Luke's arm.

"Babe, he just got here." Luke said.

"So? I knew I liked you the second we met."

Luke blushed, caught off guard by her sincerity. That was one thing he wasn't sure he would ever get over, her ability to express her emotions so unabashedly. It was something he still struggled with from time to time, but for her, he would let down all of his walls.

"I wouldn't say I have a crush on her or anything- she kinda just scares me but she did catch my attention," Percy interrupted Luke's thoughts.

"What's her name?" Y/N asked.

"Annabeth, I think."

Y/N nodded knowingly, looking over at Luke. "Well, I guess we'll just see if anything special blooms there. Anyway, we're here!"

The sun was beginning to set over the horizon now, painting the sky in beautiful hues of purple and pink. A gentle breeze accompanied the three as they sat down by the water.

Y/N leaned against Luke's body, savoring the warmth he offered. He absent-mindedly twirled a piece of her hair.

"Three years ago, I was sitting right here, when I saw someone a few feet away from me. He was throwing rocks into the lake and disturbing my peace," Y/N began. "When I looked over to see who it was-"

"You saw the most gorgeous man you've ever laid your eyes on," Luke cut in.

"Hey!" Y/N playfulled smacked his shoulder. "I know you've heard this story one hundred times but Percy hasn't yet."

"Yeah, I haven't yet!" Percy backed her up.

The two older campers laughed. "Thank you, Percy. Now, where was I? Oh, yes, I saw this boy with curly dark hair and soft brown eyes, and I thought that's him. He's the one. This was before I was claimed by Aphrodite, but I just had a feeling, you know?"

Percy nodded, even though he wasn't sure he had experienced that feeling yet.

"But anyway, this boy looked kind of sad, so I decided to sit next to him."

"I think that's why he was throwing rocks into the water," Percy broke in.

Y/N giggled and Luke nudged her shoulder to continue.

"You're right, Percy, I had the same thought. When I sat next to him, I sensed that he was annoyed."

"Okay, love, let me finish from here." Luke softly kissed her shoulder and she buried her head in the crook of his neck.

"I wasn't annoyed-" he clarified. "At least, not at you. I had just been claimed by my father, but I was still frustrated with the whole idea of gods having children and just ignoring them. Then, this angel sat next to me and for the first time, I felt seen."

Y/N looked up at her boyfriend, her face full of nothing but admiration. No matter how many times she heard this part of the story, she still couldn't believe how she got quite so lucky.

"Percy, our parents may never redeem themselves for their wrongdoings, but I thank the gods every day they sent me Y/N." With that, Luke gently placed his hand on her cheek and leaned in to kiss her.

"Hello! As lovely as this story is, still a minor here!" Percy waved his hand in front of their faces enthusiastically, causing all three of them to burst into laughter.

[luveline]

Hello Jade! I have a request for hotch if that’s okay, I was thinking something like he’s dating sunshine!reader who goes to a police precinct with the team and the sheriff/deputy insults Hotch in front of her (maybe she’s not part of the BAU so he doesn’t realise she knows Hotch?) and she snaps and punches him/pushes him to the ground and afterwards she’s really quiet and refusing to tell anyone what happened cause she doesn’t want Hotch to hear that people were bad mouthing him. Everyone is confused cause she’s usually so bubbly and it’s disconcerting to see her so stern but she has to protect her man damnit 😤

(Ps I’m the anon who got confused about rules n you’re right I was looking under guidelines not requests 🤦🏼‍♀️ sorry!)

hi babe, thank you for your request! (and no worries at all, no sorry necessary!!)

—hotch is dumbfounded when you slap a deputy sheriff, but you have your heartfelt reasons. fem, 2k

You're not specifically BAU, but when Hotch calls, you answer. You don't look BAU either in your skirt with your blue laptop carry case; twice you're asked what you're doing in the precinct and if you need assistance, but eventually you get to the centre of the action upstairs, meandering through the detective's desks toward a conference room with a sticky-taped sign that says to knock before entering. 

"Hey, Spencer," you say, shouldering open the door. "They leave you behind?" 

Spencer turns away from his white board. "I'm more useful here right now. Did you bring the ethernet cable for Garcia?"

You put your laptop case on the table and pull out her desired cable. "Where is she?" It's hard-pressed for Penelope to be found anywhere away from her computer during case times. You must get twenty or more rejection emails a month from your fellow tech analysist. Sorry, working a case :'( 

"Bathroom. There's a kitchen if you need coffee. You have a badge?" 

You flash your visitor's badge at him. "Get you one?" 

"Four sugars. Thanks, L/N." 

You flash him a smile. The kitchen is back the way you came and to the right. It's nowhere near big enough for the workforce, three tables and one microwave next to a sink full of mugs. You smile at anyone who looks at you and beeline for a coffee pot. No one questions you. They must be used to outsiders invading their space this week. 

"Mean fucking guy." 

You tilt your head to the side, hand paused in their cup cabinet above the sink. You shouldn't be nosy, but they're not being very quiet, either.

"He has to be mean, I guess. That's a tight ship to run," says a second voice.

"I'd understand it if I thought they were getting somewhere. It's been four days, and between the string bean and his pushpin map and that tech girl who won't shut up? They're doomed. The boss is either too stubborn or too damn stupid to realise." 

You close the cabinet and turn around. 

"I fucking hate this shit. Ties in their suit jackets coming into our investigation and chasing the wrong leads. We could've had Miller in cuffs two days ago if Hotchner hadn't shut us down, two days ago! And now another kid is dead, and there's not a drop of remorse on him. He doesn't care about doing his job, he–" 

"He what?" you ask. Your heart is beating hard before you've so much as parted your lips, your hands trembling. You screw them into tight balls. 

"Excuse me?" 

Your opposition is a rough hewn man in a deputies badge, a cup of coffee held between two paws. He narrows thick salt and pepper brows at your question, his mouth screwed into a telling snarl. 

"You think Agent Hotchner doesn't care about his job? So why is he here? Why did he agree to take the case?" 

"Who the fuck are you?" 

You shake your head in annoyance and take the FBI badge from your little cross body bag. You toss it on the table, your beaming face looking up at him a juxtaposition to the glare you wear now. 

He stands up from his table. The lunch room hushes but the riot of precinct cacophony stays strong just outside of the door, a thrum that battles your roaring heart. You're so angry you can barely speak, and it'll only get worse. 

"I'm sorry you have to hear it from me, darling, I am, but your boss out there? Agent Hotchner?" The deputy scoffs. "He's a fool running blind. He turned away from the real issue here. He's a prideful, narcissistic idiot who's let the power of his paycheck get to his head, and as far as I'm concerned? So long as he stops us from arresting Jaden Miller? He's a murderer, too. The blood is on his hands." 

You know you're going to slap him from the moment he says 'murderer', but the knee to his crotch straight after is a surprise even to yourself. All you're thinking for one horrible white-hot moment is How can I hurt him? It's shameful, and you slam your knee up a second time anyhow. 

—

"You can tell me what happened now or later, but it's going to be much easier on you if you tell me now." 

Hotch hates this part. What he wouldn't give to have someone else here to reprimand you. He understands why Gideon left and he wouldn't want him back unwillingly, but Hotch thinks your nightly phone call may go over smoother tonight if it were Gideon standing in his place. Half the time Hotch finds he's uninterested in scolding you. It's why you stay firmly in your department and away from his bias in the BAU. He can't be optimal at his job while you're around. 

It's not limited to telling you off, of course. When you're near, he wants to act like it. He wants to take your hand, hold your arm, rub a palm between your shoulders. He wants to pull you into his lap, or pinch the soft lobe of your ear between his fingers to watch you shiver, blow warm air at the back of your neck to hear your laugh. This cold silence is his worst nightmare, but he can't cross the line. 

Well, he can't cross the line too much. 

In the privacy of a cordoned, borrowed office, Hotch can sit beside you. The blinds are closed, and his intimidation act wasn't getting him anywhere anyways. More flies with honey than vinegar. 

"I can't show favouritism here, do you understand? Especially when you're being physically violent against the deputy sheriff." Hotch watches the soft pillow of your bottom lip tremble in a private terror. "I know you wouldn't do this for no reason. I know. Give me a reason to take your side and I will." 

"I don't want to talk about it." 

"Did he say something inappropriate?" 

You don't answer.

"Did he?" Hotch can feel the anger he's been pushing down start to rise. When a woman like you, happy-go-lucky, pretty, and always smiling, turns to violence, it's not hard to picture why. He knows full well the horrible things a man can say to a woman. "Please, trust me to take care of this." 

"Hotch, I really don't want to talk about this. You can reprimand me, send me home." 

"No. Tell me what he said." 

You glare at him. Hotch finds with a heart-skipping hurt that it's the first time he's been on the receiving end of your disdain. "No. I don't want to." 

"And I don't want to send you home." He knows how he looks, stony-eyed and furrowed brow. He has to try hard to relax into a more neutral expression. "I won't. Not when I know you'd never hurt someone." 

"Well, I did." 

"We all do things we don't mean to in anger." 

In the quiet, he can hear Emily asking loud questions about what happened, and her almost comedic gasp as someone informs her of the situation. Morgan couldn't find the words to tell Hotch over the phone what happened, just told him to hurry back, and it was doubly difficult to get the story out of Spencer, who'd been the one responsible for standing in your way. 

"He called her a bitch," Spencer told him. "I didn't want to hold her back after that." 

The sheriff deputy has a good hundred pounds on you, so no matter what he called you, Hotch is glad you were pulled away. 

Hearing that you'd been called a bitch set his nerves aflame. When Spencer explained that this was said by a man on his knees after a swift jab to the crotch, Hotch was more confused. 

He follows a whim. He's biassed for sure, but he knows you're the most beautiful woman in any room that you walk into. It doesn't shock him that a high-ranking authority figure would take advantage of his position to make a pass at you. 

"You have nothing to be ashamed of," he says softly. "Whatever he said to you, I– I'm not supposed to support violence, but I understand if it got too much. Sexual harassment is unjustifiable, and I'll stand with you and your actions completely." 

"He didn't harass me, Aaron," you say, looking down at your knees. You're wearing dark stockings, pinching at the fabric distractedly. 

"Did he touch you?" 

"No, Aaron–" You sigh frustratedly. "I don't want to tell you what he said because it's not true." 

"He insulted you?" 

"He insulted you." You glance at him and then away. "I couldn't stand it." 

If there weren't cameras in the room he'd bundle you into his arms and kiss the slope of your cheek, because how is he supposed to handle this? You're hitting people when they talk bad about him now? 

Hotch doesn't need to ask to know it was bad. You're a well-meaning, well-adjusted person. You'd hardly hit somebody for calling Hotch a jerk. Something severe would've been said to have pushed you over the edge, but, to his detriment, Hotch has heard a thousand awful things about himself from a thousand different mouths, and he doesn't worry about what it was. 

"Alright. Listen to me carefully." Your shoulders stiffen. "I don't want you hurting people over me. I don't need you to defend me. I don't want you to fight my battles for me, and I certainly don't want you assaulting people on my behalf." 

Your lip again begins to tremble. "I'm sorry." 

"No. Don't be sorry." He covers your knee in his hand gently, ducking his head to meet your glassy eyes. He's gone about this the wrong way, upsetting you unnecessarily. He rushes to correct it. "I love that you want to defend me, I love that you did, and it isn't lost on me how much it means to have you at my side, but… You could have been seriously injured. Honey, picking on someone your own size is a double-sided coin. What if the deputy hit you back?" 

"I'm not afraid of getting hurt." 

He leans down more, imploring, desperate to be heard. "I'm afraid of you getting hurt. Me. I'm worried someone's going to hurt you when I'm not around." 

"He was saying all this stuff about you and it wasn't true–" 

"It's okay," he says, shaking his head slowly from one side to another. "It doesn't matter. I know what people like him think of me, and he's not in an easy position." He drops his voice to a murmur for your ears alone. "I'm not saying you should agree with him, I can't tell you that I like him much." 

You laugh weakly, the sound quickly melding to a sniffle. "I'm sorry, Aaron. I shouldn't have hit him. I don't know what came over me." 

"We get angry for the people we care about." 

He can't kiss you, really, not at work, but he can show you some heavy affection. It's a boundary crossed. Luckily, Hotch knows you won't report him. 

"Thank you for defending me. You can stay on the case if you promise not to do it again," he says, squeezing your smaller hand in his, drawing a lopsided heart with his thumb into the back of it. 

"I'll promise not to do it again if he promises to keep his stupid mouth closed," you mutter. 

"Is it wrong of me to like this version of you?" he says. 

You look him straight in the eye, your usual lightness restored, if dimmed just a touch. "I like all your versions, Agent Hotchner." 

"Good. Remind the version that's your boyfriend to treat you accordingly tonight. Okay?" 

You nod emphatically, both relieved and chastened. "Okay. Thanks, handsome." 

You look tired. Tonight, he'll kiss you like he means it, maybe a touch too rough but apparently you're a hard ass now who can handle it, and he'll hold you close even if he can't give you the attention you deserve until the case is done. He'll make sure you know how much he appreciates your protection, rub your back for hours just the way you like it while sleep fails. 

"You're welcome," he says. He has more to say but there's no more time to waste. There's still work to be done. 

It'll come easier with you at his side, he's sure. 

[eightstarr]

and also!! doctor abby!? i think a lot about her too. just so you know. you're spinning meee arounddd my feet are off the grounddd <3<3<3 (me when she) anyways... this one silly thought popped into my mind when i was on the bus while listening to this song. i think abby always tries to be like, casual with gifts but absolutely sucks at it?? lemme explain, let's say you're at a mall and she sees you look at a necklace for a little too long, next evening after you come home from somewhere idk could be school, work, wherever! and abby worked twice as fast & hard so she could leave early and get that necklace and bring it home before you came back :( and when you arrive she's reading, but her cheeks are like glowing red and she's smiling like an idiot. and she tries to surpress it but her lips twitch. you get a little suspicious but when you enter your room to change, you see a small box on your bedside drawer and you gasp loudly. "ABBY WHAT IS THIIIIISSSS ??" and you're like. actually screaming because wtf? wtf. how is she so wifey. "it's the necklace you were looking at today baby, thought i'd get it for you!" and her voice CRACCKKSS when she says that girl like i know it does. bc she's trying to sound soo cool and soo casual, as if her heart's not thumping and her cheek's are not flashing red.

holy fuck this is an essay

-penis cat anon

penis cat anon double feature!!! this is the best please write me essays whenever you want <3

you're never wrong ever! abby loves giving people gifts and she's so fucking good at it. thoughtful doesn't cut it. she'll get you the necklace from the store, but also a beautiful edition of a rare children's book that you told her you loved as a kid in a random conversation two years ago. and she's usually very cocky about her flawless memory and expert skills at picking just the right thing, but with you she's questioning everything!! she gets you the necklace and she stares at it for 20 minutes thinking "is this the right one? did she even say she liked it? i went to the wrong store. oh my god what if i made it up? were we even at the mall today—"

but it's okay because when she finally lets you see it her shoulders visibly relax, pouty lips losing a little relieved breath. your smile is toothy and wide and abby's giggling when you wrap your arms around her, grinning into the kiss she gets seconds later. suddenly she remembers, she is good at gifts. really fucking good. but it's never mattered to her as much as it does now and as much as it will again whenever she decides you need another pretty thing (probably next week. at most.)

[slutforleeminho]

how about dom maid minho 🥺

btw can i be the 🌌 anon pls

ofc you can be 🌌 anon! wow… this really has the wheels turning in my head

“it’s cute, right?” minho asked, referring to the maid outfit he was currently wearing. his voice was low and deep, even with the cute little dress he was wearing, he was still making you flustered. you were so deep in thought that you didn’t even notice him approach you, until he placed his index finger under your chin and tilted your head up until you tore your eyes off of his thighs that were peaking out from under the skirt to meet his gaze.

“i asked you a question, love” his eyes were dark and overflowing with lust. after a few moments with no answer, he grew impatient and wrapped the hand that was under your chin around your neck and and pushed you until your back pressed against the wall, caging you in between the cold surface, and his body that was radiating heat. “what’s the matter? cat got your tongue?” he continued to tease you “if you don’t like it i can just take it off”

“no!” you grabbed his waist and wrapped your arms around him so he couldn’t create any distance between you two. “i like it. i really, really like it” you watched as the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement at your eagerness and the hand around your neck squeezed lightly before releasing you, only to wrap it around your wrist and lead you to the bed. he sat with his back against the head board, and his legs spread, the lace along the hem of the dress laying over his upper thighs. he put his hands on your hips to lead you onto his lap so you were straddling him.

he looked up into your eyes, his were sparkling, like he was the most innocent thing you’ve ever seen, when in reality he was the farthest thing from innocent, and the next five words that came out of his mouth only proved you right.

“do you want to ride?” his hands kneaded your ass roughly as he spoke so softly. his duality was giving you whiplash, along with the way you nodded your head so fast. he giggled at your reaction and wiggled your pants off and raised the skirt of the dress over his erection revealing he had nothing on underneath. he aligned himself to your entrance and let out a grunt when his tip easily slid through your dripping folds.

“well what are you waiting for? sit on it.” he demanded and you didn’t think twice before sinking down onto his cock until he was fully nestled inside you. you both moaned in unison from the friction, and you rested your forehead against his, trying to steady your breathing. “look at me” he placed his palm against your cheek and wiped away a tear, that you didn’t even know was there, with his thumb. “aww baby does it hurt? or does it feel too good?” he lifted his hips to emphasize the last word, hitting even deeper. “feels so good min” you moaned out, nuzzling your cheek into his palm and only just now noticing the little headband he was wearing. it was black with a little bit of white lace around the edges to match the rest of his outfit and it made your wall’s clench and a whimper to escape your lips. you reached your hand out to touch it and feel it in between your fingertips. minhos grip on your hip tightened and that’s when you realized you were roughly grinding down on him in search for more.

“you really do like this don’t you?” he sounded surprised and like he was more so saying it to himself than actually asking you, but you still answered anyways. “i fucking love this” you were now fully bouncing on him, moaning every time your hips met his. he pulled your shirt up and shoved the hem into your mouth to muffle your moans and so he could watch your tits bounce as you rode him.

you were getting dangerously close and you could tell by the constant twitching of his cock that he was to. “fuck! can i cum?” your voice was high pitched and squeaky. “since you asked so nicely. cum for me, beautiful” you took one last look over his little outfit and you were cumming. your legs basically gave out on you as you collapsed onto him. so he positioned himself and started fucking up into you until he was spilling his seed into you and letting out a string of curses.

after recovering from your orgasm and rolled off of him. he stood and was about to walk to the bathroom to start the shower but stopped when you said his name. “does this mean i wear the pants in this relationship now?” you laughed when he raised an eyebrow.

“sure,” he continued walking to the bathroom, the dress swaying with each step. “if you want to ride me every night, and pay for every meal, and-“

“okay! i get it” you smiled when you heard the shower running and rolled off the bed to join your boyfriend.

[jeannineee]

Honestly, I’m in the mood for angst. I’d be so heartbreaking being Cassian‘s lover and when he mates he doesn’t tell you at first and you have to find out last. And he just says that he didn’t know how to tell you and Nesta being a bitch again (yea I don’t like her)

Doubt

Cassian x Reader

a/n: anon you’re sadistic for requesting this!! (Jk but OUCH!!!) Cassian is an ass in this!! I didn’t include nesta in this part, but maybe there’ll be a part 2? Idk.

warnings: suggestiveness, cheating—depending on how you define it, ooc Cassian?

In the ninety-four years that you’d loved Cassian, you’d never known him to be a liar.

In fact, he was honest to a fault. His mouth had gotten him into trouble countless times. But, it was a trait that you’d grown fond of. You’d grown accustomed to it. Because of this, you’d immediately clocked when Cassian began acting suspicious.

It started out as him coming home later than normal. You didn’t think much of it at first, due to his duties as the General. Besides, when you asked him about it, he always had a reason for it.

Training the Valkyrie ran late.

Drinks with Az and Rhys.

He’d never given you any reason to doubt him, so you accepted it.

The concern and fear grew when Cassian’s physical affection slowly dwindled. He always, always had to be touching you in some way. A hand on the small of your back, your pinkies intertwined at dinner with your friends. You’d kept him grounded. Or so you thought.

You didn’t ask him about it, at first. You came up with excuses for him.

Maybe he’s just been in a bad mood, lately.

People change, right? It’s a normal part of life.

What had really hurt, though? It seemed like he no longer desired you. Not just sexually, but in any way.

After a month of this behavior, you’d gathered the courage to confront him. The two of you were sat at the dining table, an uncomfortable silence filling the room as you’d run out of things to talk about.

It had never been like this, with Cassian. Something was wrong.

“Cass, are you cheating on me?” You felt guilty as soon as the question left your lips. A part of you felt like an insecure little girl, but you needed to know.

“No,” Cassian answered immediately, but he still couldn’t meet your eyes.

You swallowed thickly, before taking his hand into yours. “Then what’s going on? You’ve been acting off lately, and—“

“I think I found my mate.”

The words ripped through your chest, and if felt as though the air had been sucked out of the room.

Hundreds of questions swam through your mind, but the only one you could manage to utter was, “Who?”

Cassian finally met your eyes, but his expression was unreadable. “Nesta.”

Nesta Archeron. Your best friend’s sister, Your lover’s mate.

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from crying, and pulled your hand away from his.

“Is she the reason you’ve been coming home late?” You asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

“I’ve only spoken to her twice,” Cassian replied. “I kept coming home late because I was afraid. Afraid to tell you. Afraid to confront the fact that I’ve found my mate.”

‘My mate.’ He said it so casually. As though your near-century of loving one another was a blip of existence compared to the few weeks he’s known Nesta.

“Are you…” you trail off, forcing back tears. “…are you going to pursue her?”

Cassian went silent. That’s when your tears finally fell.

“We’ve been together for almost a century,” you said through a sob.

At the sight of you, Cassian’s heart shattered, and his own tears began forming. “I know,” he said quietly.

“Is what you f-feel for her stronger than what you feel for me?”

“No,” he said without hesitation. “I don’t know what I feel for her. It isn’t love but…”

It’s the bond. He can’t help but be drawn to her.

You sniffled, wiping at your face. “I um…I…” you faltered. The words you were about to say made you feel like you were dying. “I understand…if you want to…”

You couldn’t bring yourself to say them. But Cassian knew what you meant.

“I think—I think I’m going to sleep on the couch tonight,” Cassian muttered, swiping a tear away from his cheek.

You rose from your seat, barely able to look at him. A near-century of soul-consuming love. Is it really going to end like this?

“Yeah. I think you should.”

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

[Just corrupted anon again]

Johnny has a thing for Stoic!Reader because of the mystery behind them, always keeping a poker face even in dire situation and the strong, powerful aura that reader has but it's also reassuring. A mix between Price and Ghost the stern yet comforting from Gaz.

Johnny knocking on stoic!reader's door because Price had asked him to get the paperworks that were needed but ends up just stammering towards reader because the way reader speaks is so emotionless and stern, it sends him into a horny frenzy-

Finally telling stoic!reader what Price wanted, reader dismisses him but he doesn't leave and just stands there like a sweet, lost puppy and who is totally not horny or anything because reader is only in a black tank top and their cargo pants while reader does paperwork.

Stoic!Reader casually staring at Johnny because he hasn't left and asks if there is anything else.

Johnny stutters as he tries to explain that Price, Ghost and Gaz were getting ready for a mission, clenching onto the documents, trying to ask a certain question because poor pup was going to be alone for quite awhile but ends up silencing himself and leaving. 'Cause why would reader do that for him if reader was aroace? (again, sue me).

Not even 2 weeks in when the other three were gone. Johnny pathetically asks Stoic!Reader if they could fuck him.

Stoic!reader who wanted to say 'no' till they saw the twitching outline of Johnny's bulge and felt a twinge of pity for Johnny boy and sighs.

Stoic!reader who says 'yes' but only on one condition which makes Johnny happy, though the next day Johnny was now on his hands and knees with stoic!reader prepping his rim to take in the strap-on they bought online together (Johnny totally didn't get the overnight shipping).

Johnny is already a squirming mess as he came twice already from being prepped by reader. Reader obviously not done with Johnny, had already put the big, girthy, bumpy strap-on, on already and grabs him roughly by his mohawk. Rubbing the plastic-rubber against his weeping cock gathering the cum and proceeds to rub coated strap-on onto his ass, slicking it up before pushing it to the hilt.

Pathetic whining moans leaves Johnny's lips as he's drilled onto Stoic!Reader's bed like reader hates him, shocking Johnny at the full force that comes from reader's frame, he never would've guessed reader would have it in them to be this way. Letting him orgasm in this position twice before doing it once missionary.

Johnny already an overstimulated little pup on stoic!reader's bed, crying from too much pleasure and was ready to give out, to fucked out to even help reader orgasm. But don't worry, reader already had a plan for that.

Stoic!Reader pushing Johnny's legs up, stroking the tip of his cock before guiding it into reader's hole making poor Johnny weep from overstimulation, pain and pleasure. Knees behind Johnny's ass while holding his legs up as reader fucks down onto him, closing in on their own orgasm and Johnny building up his, what? 5th? 7th orgasm? He doesn't know.

Neither of the two hearing the sound of multiple boots hitting the floor nearing reader's barracks. The door opening as both Johnny and Reader orgasms at the same time.

Johnny looks weakly at the other three with a smile, who stared at Stoic!Reader in shock, Reader's expression remains stoice but as their eyes trailing down the three men's body already seeing their growing bulge, stoic!reader gives a small smirk and removes themselves from Johnny (who totally didn't pass out).

Well shit. Price, Ghost and Gaz later on couldn't remember that reader smirked at them, nor did the four remember that reader pecked their foreheads as they all lay together, asleep, after being fucked and looked after by reader.

Stoic!reader who finishes changing, closes the door quietly letting their four boys sleep. Till next time.

I-

NOW HOLD ON JUST A MINUTE-

THAT MADE ME FEEL THINGS

ANON, I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU ARE BUT YOU JUST WROTE SOMETHING SO GLORIOUS AND I-

YOU'RE NOT RECENTLY CORRUPTED, YOU'VE **BEEN** CORRUPTED AND I, FOR ONE, AM ABSOLUTELY EATING IT UP

[sciderman]

Sci ngl i assumed you were a cis gay dude back when i was obsessively reading your spiderpool stuff as a teenager. I’m a gay trans man and your comics always felt like a warm hug, truly my comfort doom scrolling — so it’s kinda nice to find out we’re more similar than id thought

bless you anon!! it's a pleasure having you, and i'm so, so glad my comics can be a cozy comfort for you!! kissing you so sweetly

you know, it's kind of funny, i've had an overwhelming response of people who've said they've just assumed i was male by the vibes i radiate and i'm not entirely sure what it means. i'm know you all mean it very reaffirmingly but it leaves me with a lot of questions. like, questions that i want to do further research into.

is there a masculine dialect? like how there are regional dialects? is that a thing? i kind of want to study this now. can you tell someone's gender by the way they talk like you can tell where they're from? that is so cool if it's true. how do you type like a man. what should i look for? i don't know if i've ever assumed someone's gender by the way they type. i just look at their bio and it usually says. and i kind of don't think about it when i type. i type like me. but – i think maybe i pick up the way that i talk from the media i consume (comic books) which is kind of overpoweringly male. overpoweringly populated by male characters, and written by men, y'know.

i think the way i type here on @sciderman is probably softer and more femme than the way i write on the ask-blog. on the blog when i'm answering things as Mod i kind of intentionally mimic the tone-of-voice that marvel editors use. that's an intentional choice. so - when you read what i write here it's closer to my real voice, but over on ask-spiderpool i'm putting on an act. i try to sound like a marvel editor. i call you all True Believers! it's all a persona. i think one of the things that's my strength in writing is falling into voices - i think i could be an excellent ghostwriter, if i needed to be. so very crafty at mimicry.

as a kid i always, always always would mimic the characters i liked from the movies we watched whenever i came out of the cinema. i remember doing that all the time. and it was always boys. (except frenchie from grease. she was my one female gender icon. god everyone hated me for that one. i loved doing the voice. wanted to be her so bad. wanted the pink hair. everything.)

you know,, even now The Very First thing anyone asks me when they meet me is where my accent is from, because nobody believes i'm native to london. it happened today (twice). the way i talk is a little weird. my response,, off the bat,, it's because i watched too many cartoons growing up. so,, i guess maybe i idolised too many masculine role models, and probably didn't have enough female role models. i liked the boy movies better than the girl ones. i spent more time with my dad than i did with my mom. my mom wasn't a good role model. dad says that's probably why i didn't want to be a woman. i didn't have a good role model. (sorry mom). (he's right). all kinds of variables here. i kind of want to do research into it. also i should talk to a therapist.

[elizais]

heyy can you do something like the reader is an exec in the PM and she sees herself as an older sister to the akutagawa siblings / gin + ryu see her as one too? headcannons please i'm just so distraught after season 5

of course anon! i love these siblings so much season 6 has to help themm lets put the reader as a young executive like chuuya/dazai

you joined the PM as a kid too, so you knew how it was. and when you found out about a 14 y/o and his younger sister joining, you felt for them.

when they arrived and mori was assigning them places, you wanted to mentor both of them but the brother already had a mentor so you took the girl.

that is how you began to know the both of them as you trained gin up to her assassin skills, and talking to her so she would have someone to go to.

you and her became close and you insisted on her and ryu staying close. often hearing about him from your fellow executive dazai.

you probably met ryu when you had to go pass on a message to dazai and saw the both of them, dazai stepping out and leaving you with ryu.

"are you the ryunosuke boy? i'm training your sister, do you two talk often?" you asked him, worried for the siblings. he only responded with silence and a cold stare. "don't worry, i understand. gin is coming to my office for a little bit tonight, it's on the third floor across from storage room 4. you are always welcome." you smiled, trying to provide a safe place for him.

afterwards, you were surprised he turned up. you were glad though, you weren't going to let this cruel organisation tear these two apart from their only family.

he walked in with the same expression, void of emotion and your heart shattered to see yet another kid like this. you had managed to get gin out of her shell though, so it was only a matter of time.

"please, sit ryu." gin spoke softly and gestured to the other space on the couch she was sitting on. you had left the room to grab some mugs for tea. "do you like this girl, gin? is she nice to you? does she treat you well?" ryunosuke interrogated, clearly worried for his sister. "she is very nice, ryu. she was the one who told me to dress more masculinely to protect my identity."

and then you made them both tea, both of their first time trying it. you watched their faces light up at the classic drink. ryu had not said a word to you yet, you were polite but did not want to step into his space too fast.

the next day, you heard a knock at your door and you expected gin but to your surprise it was her older brother. he wasn't very confident but he admitted that after he and gin left they both couldn't stop thinking about the tea. that was when he began to open up.

after that, you three came to your office twice a week to try new flavours. you gave them advice, gossiped and soon they trusted you.

when you found out how dazai treated ryunosuke, you didn't react in front of the boy but on your next mission with dazai you fully confronted the man. while you couldn't be certain he would treat akutagawa better, you spent more time with the boy.

you would begin driving the siblings home, then making some warm meals for them and teaching them things they didn't learn in the slums. you introduced them to many of their likes and dislikes. your most memorable one being figs.

"y/n? are you free right now? i have a question about the black lizard." ryunosuke spoke from behind your office door, you welcomed him in and before he could ask his question his attention was stolen away by the figs on your desk. "what are those?" he asked. "they are figs! would you like one?" you responded, happy for him to try one. "yes please." and his eyes seemed to sparkle as he swallowed. "you can have the rest if you like, i'm full anyways." you smiled.

definitely concerned about both of their health, especially ryu's. you tried to find a way to help his coughing but because he's a criminal you can't just take him anywhere. you did make sure that they both got nourishing meals though.

when gin came to you asking about makeup, you shown her everything. as well as showing her hair products, skin care, dresses - everything a normal girl her age would like.

as for ryunosuke, you tried your best with dressing and how to take care of himself.

you were glad that you could provide a safe space for these kids who ended up in the wrong place.

[soapyghostie]

Thanks for the compliment! I'm glad to know you're having a good time, and I'll make sure to keep the requests coming! (Fair warning, a lot of these are going to be Texas Chainsaw related. Like right now!)

Drayton, Nubbins, and Bubba reacting to Reader killing a victim for the first time, specifically to protect the man in question? To set the stage a little, while they've never opposed the Sawyers.. diet, they generally stayed out of everyone's way when victims showed up. Until now, that is. -☎️

Ah! No worries Anon! Texas Chainsaw Massacre is such a great movie and I love the Sawyer family. I have no problem writing for them. Well, I hope you enjoy!

Drayton Sawyer

Drayton was never the one to get directly involved with actually killing the victims. His role was always gaining their trust, kidnapping them, and cooking. 

When you came along, you openly opposed helping his brothers kill anyone who walked on their property. Well, if that’s the case, you can help him cook. You know that everyone has a role to play in the Sawyer household right? Drayton isn’t going to let you lallygag around. 

 One day, while you and Drayton were brewing up some chili for dinner, a victim escaped their chains and crawled out of the basement. You guys didn’t hear them come into the kitchen because the next thing you know the victim is holding Drayton hostage with a knife to his throat, spitting out slurs and crying to let them leave. 

You were panicking on the inside. You knew you couldn’t let them go or they’d go to the police. However, you didn’t want them to kill Drayton; he was the love of your life. You decided to do the only option left to you… 

You backed up slowly, while saying words of comfort to the victim, until your back was against the counter where you could grab a knife without alarming them. Once you got the knife, you quickly lunged and stabbed the victim in the neck. Drayton got free and you continued to stab the victim to clarify the victim’s death. 

You felt awful for taking a life, but the Sawyers were important to you, especially Drayton. If you had to, you’d kill for them, again. 

Nubbins Sawyer

Nubbins likes to stab things. I definitely said it. You name it: people, animals, carcasses, trees. Literally everything and anything! Stabby stabby makes him happy. 

When you guys first started dating and you told him you weren’t into killing people, he got very sad. ☹️ He just wants to do some stabbing with his s/o, but he understands. You can just do some chores around the house; you can’t just do nothing around here or Drayton will get onto you. 

Well, there was this one particular day where you were doing some yard work, you saw Nubbins toying with an injured victim running around the property. You brushed it off and continued to do what you were doing until you heard Nubbins’ cries. You turned your head so fast that you almost got whiplash and there you saw it… 

You saw Nubbins on the ground with his leg split open, bleeding an awful amount. The victim was standing above him with an ax. Idk how they got ahold of that ax, but they did. 🤷‍♀️ 

You looked around and saw a shotgun on the porch; it was fully loaded. You didn’t think twice. You pointed that sucker at the back of the victim’s head, pulled the trigger and their brains went everywhere. 

You went into the house and grabbed a medical bag. After grabbing the medical bag, you examined Nubbins’ injury and patched him up to the best of your ability. You just killed someone, but you’d do it again if you had to, for Nubbins. 

Bubba Sawyer

We all know that Bubba is the butcher of the family; the one with the chainsaw; the one who makes sure there is meat on the table for the whole family. 

After you told him you were opposed to getting involved with the family’s schemes, he supported your decision. Besides, it’s dangerous business; he doesn’t want you to get hurt. This sweet boy always wants you safe. He’ll get Drayton to only give you chores inside the house as it’s safer. You'll be least likely to cross paths with a victim that way. That can only last so long, sadly… 

You were doing some tidying up around the house, listening to chainsaws going off in the distance. Just the usual. You were used to the chainsaw noises by now. However, you heard squeals of pain and you knew that something happened to your Bubba. Your instincts kicked in. You knew there was a spare chainsaw Bubba kept in the basement; you grabbed it and went outside to a horrifying sight… 

There in front of you, Bubba with one of his arms cut clean off his body while the victim had his chainsaw raised above their head, ready to give the final blow to Bubba’s skull. 

You rushed forward. You got in front of Bubba and raised your chainsaw to meet the other, blade on blade. For a long time, the quiet Texas homefront was filled with chainsaw roars and clashing blades until you got a clear opening to drill your chainsaw straight into the heart of the victim.  

You made sure they were shredded to pieces before you checked on Bubba. Once the victim was taken care of, you took Bubba inside for special aid. Hopefully that was the first and last time you would kill someone, but you never know. 🤷‍♀️

[neowinestainedress]

𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐔𝐒 — 𝐂𝐇.𝟕

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐗 — 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 — 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 (𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐄)

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: lee haechan x oc ; na jaemin x oc ; haechan x ex girlfriend!oc, na jaemin x haechan's ex girlfriend!oc 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄: smut, fluff, light angst, childhood best friends to lovers, strangers to lovers, exes to lovers, lovers to exes 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: eventually, everything finds the place where it belongs. 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: smut, public s*x, fing*ring, h*ndjob, unprotected s*x, oral s*x (f receiving), finger sucking (two seconds) 𝐖𝐂: +13k 𝐀/𝐍: soo this is the end. i loved writing this story (i hope it came out like the anon wanted because the plot was a lot so yeah...) i hope you loved it just as much and that the ending won’t disappoint you. i have a lot to say but i will probably rant answering your asks or reblog if you want to leave feedback (please do, i love reading your opinion). enjoy!

“Oh, babe, please, stop crying like a kid, you’re not sexy with snot falling from your nose,” Zoya said, trying to wipe Hyejin’s tears and snot, but it was quite impossible when she was clinging to her like that, hiding her face on her chest. “Babe, you will suffocate.” 

“Good, choke me so it’s quicker,” Hyejin mumbled, holding her tighter. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, stop it,” she squealed, grabbing her strongly and pulling her off herself. “Look at you, you are a mess.” 

“It’s not like I have to make a good impression on anyone,” she huffed. 

Zoya rolled her eyes. “Had to wipe his tears two weeks ago and now I have to wipe yours because you two are dumb and dumber,” she groaned before sighing, rubbing her temple exhausted, “why did I even come back here?” 

Hyejin pouted. “Whose tears?” 

“Jaemin’s? Crying over you because you don’t like him? And now you, crying over him because he doesn’t like you? So you’re either fucking with me or are two dumbasses.” 

“He’s attracted to me, that’s all.” 

“That’s all? Really? You talk a lot about the way Haechan looks at me and then don’t see the way Jaemin looks at you?” 

Hyejin sighed, falling against her chest again. “Then why did he say that?” 

“Because he’s scared? And because he caught Haechan fingering you? I don’t know, I would question your love, or whatever it is for him, too. Sorry, boo, but that was fucked up.” 

“I know, I… I wanted to see if I felt something again but I… I didn’t. It was pleasure with nothing else. No love, no passion, and I lost Jaemin too.” 

“You didn’t lose him,” she said, forcing her face up again and caressing her hair. “You just have to be brave and openly talk to him.” 

“But I did the other night! He pushed me away.” 

“Can you blame him? And… have you? How honest were you? How can you be honest if you don’t even know what you’re feeling?” 

“Shut up, I don’t want your wise, psychological words, I want to cry and complain,” she huffed, crossing her arms on her chest. She knew Zoya was right, but she felt like she couldn’t fix it, she had fucked up, deeply, and there was no way Jaemin would take her back.

Zoya laughed. “You’ve been doing it for hours, don’t you think it’s time to fix yourself?” 

“No, I like your hugs, I want to stay in your arms. We only did that when we were kids…” she sighed, “and only twice probably.” 

“It was more than twice,” she said, hugging her back, caressing her back. “On that evil ride, when I was shitting myself. On the bathroom floor when I was crying because I missed my mom. When we would wait in line at the ice cream shop, you were taller than me and would rest your head on mine.” 

“No, I didn’t,” she said, shaking her head, feeling her face heat up in shame. 

“Oh, you did,” Zoya laughed. “You can’t rewrite history.” 

“Fine,” Hyejin gave up, waving her off with a movement of hand.

“Anyway,” she said, clearing her throat. “We would always hug each other in our sleep, remember? We would squeeze in that bed, you on the far end, me in the middle because I was terrified even of my shadow, and Haechan behind me. I would always hug you.” 

Hyejin sniffled. “I kinda forgot all the good moments me and you had… God, I really let a man blind me?” 

A tender chuckle left Zoya’s lips before she replied, “I was a bitch, I won’t lie. You didn’t cut me off because of him, you cut me off when I… when I left you for the cool kids or whatever they were,” she said and they both giggled, there was a bit of bitterness behind that, but by now it was in the past, and there was nothing they could do to change that.  

“Fair.” 

“Can I be honest?” Zoya asked, keeping her head up from the sofa to meet her eyes, following the line of her ear to brush her hair. “You were a cool kid in my eyes. I was so jealous of you. I hated I couldn’t draw like you, or sing like you. And damn, your cakes? You were so young and yet so good at that, I was furious.” 

“You’re good at cooking.” 

“Maybe, but not baking.” 

Hyejin laughed. “You should’ve told me then, I would’ve let you in the ‘cool loser kids’ club, it was crowded, but I think I could’ve squeezed a place for you,” she joked and Zoya chuckled. 

“And yet somehow you always had my back.” 

“It’s what friends do, even when you want to strangle them.” 

Zoya laughed. “Thank you,” she said, voice full of honesty, as she felt a weight being lifted from her chest.  

“For?” 

“For faking it even when you didn’t want to,” she said, feeling tears at the corner of her eyes. “For always sitting at our table and watching me and Haechan rubbing it on your face and for never throwing something at me. Thank you for never hating me, even if it could’ve been so easy, especially in these last months.” 

Hyejin shrugged. “I can’t hate you, I tried, trust me, I’m not the wisest woman on earth so I’ve put all myself into trying to hate you, but I failed. Also, it’s pretty stupid to go against something that’s written in destiny.” 

“And what’s written in destiny?” 

“You and Haechan.” 

“Shut up.” 

Hyejin sighed. “I know you like him, and I know he likes you too, no matter how much he tries to deny it. And, I don’t think I should be giving it to you, but you have my blessing if that’s what’s stopping you from going for it.” 

Zoya didn’t say a word for a while, letting her words sink in and taking time to decide what to say next, there was still something she didn’t tell her, and it was making her feel guilty. “We fucked,” she confessed, face contorting as she awaited for the worst reaction.  

“Good for you,” Hyejin replied nonchalantly. 

“No, now, recently, after he fought with you and Jaemin. Aren’t you mad?” 

“Why would I?”

“It’s like betraying you,” she said, trying to study her friend better and see if she was lying to her, or if that was her honest reaction. 

“Is it? Zoya, I don’t care. And I truly mean it when I say you’re destined.” 

“No, we’re not. We’re not… we’re not who we used to be. It will never work out.” 

“Isn’t it better to die after giving it a try?” 

“Bitch, you’re talking,” she retorted with a scoff. 

“Hey!” Hyejin screamed, hitting her arm with a slap. 

“Sorry, but like, you want to give up on Jaemin and come here to give me a lesson about Haechan?” 

“Fine,” she gave up, shaking her head. “We’ll both give it a try.” 

“Good, I like it when we’re equal.” 

Hyejin laughed. “God, will it be awkward as fuck?” 

“Probably, but… we can’t die without giving it a try, right?” 

Hyejin shook her head before resting close to Zoya again as they giggled. “Can we slump in a can of ice cream before acting like grown, responsible women? Maybe putting on some cliché romantic movie?” 

“You can bet on it. The last time we did something like this, Twilight just came out.” 

“Haechan’s not home.” 

“I know,” Hyejin replied with a small frown on her face when Jaemin opened the door and sighed as soon as he saw her face, “I was looking for you.” 

“For what?” 

Hyejin rolled her eyes. “Can I come in?” 

Jaemin hesitated for a moment, quickly moving his eyes between her and the room before humming and moving to the side, closing the door behind once she stepped in. 

“So?” 

“I’m tired.” 

“Go to sleep? I don’t know how I can help with that,” he said, shrugging. 

“No,” she sighed, “I’m tired of this wall between us. You don’t answer my texts or my calls, you’re always locked inside your room when I pass around. Do you hate me?” 

Jaemin gulped, trying to keep the eye contact, but struggling. “I’m busy. Iseul doesn’t have school now, so I always have to look after her.” 

“Bullshit,” she replied sternly. “You’re avoiding me. You’re mad at me, and I understand, I would be mad at me too, I mean, I am mad,” she said, looking down before lifting her gaze again. “I shouldn’t have kissed him, or even let him touch me like that.” 

“We’ve already discussed it,” his voice was tight in his throat, and his fist clenched at his side.  

“Yes, and you lied. And I won’t throw away all those moths we’ve spent together with these damned growing feelings because you were hurt and wanted to protect your pride. I’m sorry, and I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you.” 

Jaemin blinked a tear away before taking a deep breath and hum lowly. “I can’t do this.” 

Hyejin’s mouth parted lightly, she wasn’t expecting an enthusiastic reply, but she wasn’t even expecting this. Or better, she was, but she hoped for a different ending til the last moment. “But why?” 

“Because I’m not sure about you,” he whispered, shy eyes briefly making contact with hers before falling on the brown floor. 

“You don’t like me?” 

“I’m not sure if you truly like me or if you’re using me as a rebound. I thought even that was fine, but it’s not. I — I’m in too deep to pretend I wouldn’t — to pretend it wouldn’t kill me if one day you came up to me and told me ‘oops, it was just sex and a way to fill the void Haechan left, but you’re a good friend though, let’s keep in touch.’ I would hate it.”

“Why do you think I would? I don’t love him anymore, I was just too drunk and overwhelmed, and we talked again about us after months and I was afraid of losing him, so I did the only thing that I’ve ever done to keep him with me, I tried to give him something of me. But now I know me and Haechan are supposed to be friends, best friends, if we can ever go back there without feeling awkward. But we don’t work, we simply don’t…” 

Jaemin exhaled deeply, nervously making small movements on the spot to focus the anxiety he was feeling in his whole body. “Yeah, but what about me? What about us?”

“We can make it work?” 

“I don’t want it to be forced. I want you to want me because you do, and not because you’re looking for arms to hold you, and lips to kiss you or make you come. I don’t want sex, I want love,” he whispered, voice shaking as silent tears started making their way on his face. “I’m so pathetically in love with you, and… I’ve seen your eyes look at him with so much love that the thought of you not looking at me with at least half of that love terrifies me. I wasn’t supposed to witness how much you loved him, maybe I could’ve fooled myself you felt the same for me.” 

Hyejin didn’t reply, she only slowly lowered her gaze when the hold on his became too much. “What if I showed you? What if I proved it to you?” 

“What if we take time to understand what we feel?” 

“I don’t need time to understand what I feel. I’ve spent so many years holding into a ghost that was made up in my mind, but you, fuck, Jaemin, you are real, the first real thing I can lay my hands on. You are here, always, I don’t have to run after you, chase you down hallways, and beg for you to see me. And I… I know what I feel, I know I love you, and even if I’m scared, terrified actually, that doesn’t take away what I feel for you.” 

Jaemin shook his head, his brain fighting with the excited pounding of his heart. “You don’t, you don’t love me, you love the feeling, you love being heard, being seen, and being loved. But not me.” 

Hyejin shook her head. “That’s not true. You are all those things, you are you, and I love you.” 

“You don’t!” He replied, this time rising his voice and not able to control the tears. 

Her lips quivered as she pressed them in a thin line, disagreeing with small movements of the head. “Why are you pushing me away when you love me? Why are you trying so hard to prove me wrong?” 

“Because I need to put myself first, Hyejin. I can’t do this. We can be friends if you want to, but no more kisses or… whatever,” he gesticulated, trying to find a name to give to whatever was going on between them.  

“Friends? Is this all we are, friends?” She asked, voice shaking, and tears flooding freely. 

“Hyejin, I can’t,” he whispered, begging her to let it go. “Please.” 

She nodded, pressing her lips together to avoid an ugly sob to escape. “Fine, let’s be friends. Let’s pretend we never kissed, we never fucked, we never held hands, we never went to dates, we never texted up at night, we never… never mind.” 

“Hyejin,” he whispered when she passed next to him, making her stop in her tracks but don’t turn around. “I’m afraid I’ll get hurt.” 

Only then she turned around. “You think you’re the only one? You think I’m not? You think I’m not terrified of making the same mistake again, turning a friendship into love? But I didn’t want to control my feelings, I wanted to have you, I know how risky and dangerous this is, but I was willing to risk it all.” 

“I —” Jaemin struggled to find his words, and just let them die in his brain.  

“You don’t feel the same, I know. It’s alright. At least I tried, I couldn’t live with the idea of being the reason why I lost you.” 

“You never called me,” Zoya said, dangling her legs as she sat atop the quarter pipe, a bottle of soju in her hand, the skate left behind and Haechan by her side while the hot air of June caressed their skins. 

“You disappeared,” he replied, a bitter smile setting on his lips as he looked at the empty space under him. 

“I had to,” she confessed. 

“Did you? Because it fucking hurt, like… a lot,” he said, chuckling bitterly, looking at her. 

“I thought you would forget about me; I thought it wasn’t going to work, and I didn’t want to stain our relationship. We were a pretty good thing while we lasted,” she said, chuckling as she rolled her head back, looking at the stars. 

“I would forget about you? Me? Seriously?” He asked, turning his neck around to stare at her; the pretty, silver light of the moon reflecting beautifully on her dark, brown skin and hair. 

Zoya chuckled, tilting her head to meet his eyes. “Loving someone when they’re in front of your eyes is a thing, doing it miles apart is another.” 

“Bullshit,” he muttered, pulling his left leg up to rest his head on his knee. “You know I would’ve gone to the end of the world for you.” 

“I know,” she replied. “But I also knew, and know, you would’ve done the same for Hyejin.” 

“Hyejin?” He furrowed. “You left because of her?” 

“No, you know why I had to leave, I couldn’t stay here without my family. But I broke up with you because I was insecure.” 

Haechan chuckled. “I was a shitty boyfriend even back then? No, cause with Hyejin I’m pretty self-aware I’ve sucked in the last months, but with you? I thought I did a great job when I had less life weighing on me.” 

Zoya giggled, reaching for his hand and caressing it softly. “You were an amazing boyfriend, but sometimes we have paranoias that have nothing to do with the person we love.” 

“So? Why do all the women I love make things up and then use them to break up with me, for fuck’s sake.” 

“Hey, we didn’t. I mean, I did, but I think Hyejin had better reasons.” 

Haechan sighed. Yeah, he knew Zoya was just a tiny reason, but blaming it on a person, on something made up, hurt less than facing the truth; not being compatible, not fitting together after trying so hard to be each other’s missing puzzle piece and see that it was all to waste because they would’ve never fit, not in that puzzle at least. 

“So, you at least agree yours were stupid? It’s not like you’ve ever explained them to me.” 

“They were, but I was a scared teenager, and I also felt our love was too big…” she whispered, waiting for his reaction, watching an expression of disbelief blooming on his face. 

“Too big?” 

Zoya hummed. “I know it sounds stupid, but… it all felt so right, and we were only kids, I was afraid it would’ve burst on its own and hurt me too much, so I acted, and fooled myself I could have control of the situation.” 

Haechan snickered. “You’ve always been insane, but damn. Control freak,” he joked, making her laugh. 

She sighed, wiping a tear away. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, so low in the night that it got almost wiped away by the wind and the sound of the cars in the street. 

“It’s in the past, Zoya,” he reassured her.  

“I shouldn’t have done that, if only I knew… but I was so jealous of what you and Hyejin had, I guess it’s true, you always want what you don’t have, and you get so lost in seeing what’s far from you, that you don’t see and understand how precious what you already hold is. You’ve dated two dumb assholes, I can’t defend either me or Hye on this,” she joked, making him laugh. 

Some minutes of silence passed by before Haechan broke the quiet again. “Do you know why I feel so bad?” 

“Why?” 

“Because deep down, I know Hyejin is right, but I don’t have the courage to look back and try to understand if I was true to her, if I was really there, mind cold, when she confessed, and I said I loved her back. I don’t have it in me to go back in time and wonder if I was trying to fill a hole, because I know I love Hyejin so damn much, and the idea that I’ve hurt her, even if not consciously, or made her live in a lie, kills me,” he confessed, letting go some tears as he looked down. “The first day of school, I promised her I was going to protect her from all the pain in the world, I never imagined I would’ve been the cause of it one day.” 

Zoya smiled, caressing the back of his head. “This shows exactly that you love her. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t care. I think there’s no one to blame for this, we were, and are,” she chuckled, “just kids trying to figure out life. It’s hard, damn, I would give up anything to go back to those old days and don’t have a worry in my mind.” 

Haechan giggled, nodding, but his fingers were busy torturing each other. 

“But we’re adults now, we can’t judge the kids we were. I guess she knows, she knows you didn’t mean it, and she was never even mad at you. Come on, she’s the more mature of the trio for a reason, Hyuck.” 

“Right, right,” he chuckled. “But if —” 

Zoya shut him up with a finger. “You can’t,” she said resolutely. “You can’t change anything, there’s no point dwelling on it.” 

Haechan hummed, looking down. “But maybe we can start all over again? Maybe we can fix what has been broken? Play a game of our own with all these what ifs?” 

“Like?” 

“Like what would’ve happened if we tried, if you didn’t give up on me, if I picked up the phone instead of crying for you, if I kept looking for you in the moon and the stars?” 

“This,” she whispered, uniting their lips in a kiss, pulling him close by the collar of his shirt. 

They could’ve stopped, probably they should’ve stopped, but after all, this was to see what would’ve happened, right? It was just a game, a play-pretend they could’ve gone back in time and kept walking on that old road instead of taking an unknown one, leaving each other in the past.

So they didn’t stop their curios hands from roaming on each other’s bodies, falling behind as heavy kisses filled the calm, chill air. 

“We shouldn’t — we shouldn’t do this,” Zoya whimpered when Haechan’s hand slipped inside her shorts, “not here.” 

“There’s no one around,” he replied, starting to move his fingers on her clit through the panties. “We literally jumped off the fence.” 

Zoya bit back a moan, head rolling on the hard concrete as his movements got faster. “Two illegal things don’t make one right.” 

“Just relax,” he urged, laying on the side to kiss her, distracting her from his fingers moving her panties to the side to slip one inside of her. 

“Hyuck,” she breathed out, lifting a hand to grab the short sleeve of his shirt. 

“Don’t act as if you’re not turned out, you’re dripping around my finger,” he teased, kissing her again to muffle her moans. 

“But what if someone finds us out?” 

“Just keep quiet and it won’t happen,” he replied, adding another finger, making her hiss and tighten the hold on him. 

“Let me — let me take care of you too,” she mumbled, reaching between his legs to slip her hand past the shorts and the boxers, wrapping her fingers around his hard dick. 

Their hands were quick, working in and out, up and down, while their lips crashed in messy, wet kisses to shut down the sounds of pleasure. The concrete underneath them was uncomfortable, but something about all of this was thrilling; the lack of answers to the questions running through their mind, the open air in the middle of the night, the chill breeze caressing their burning hot skins. 

“Haechan,” Zoya moaned, head rolling back as the knot in her stomach tightened. “Close.”

“Me too, fuck, me too,” he whimpered back, both their hips bucking in search for more. And in a few seconds, they both came, making a mess on each other’s fingers. 

“Let’s go home,” Haechan whispered against her lips before standing up and taking her hand after roughly cleaning themselves up on their clothes. 

Once they arrived at Zoya’s place, they rushed to the bedroom, quickly undressing each other and crawling on the bed. 

“Need you,” she whispered, pulling him down in a heated kiss, fingers tangling in his hair while her hips bucked up, looking for contact. 

And after that, the room filled up with skin slapping against skin, whimpers and moans, two bodies burning up together in those sheets, on another night that wasn’t supposed to end like this. 

Saying Haechan and Jaemin were back on the right track was a wild thing to say. The atmosphere in the house was tense and they looked like strangers more than anything else. 

Haechan hated it, he couldn’t believe all those years of friendships came down to this. And he had tried to fix it, explaining to him that between him and Hyejin things were over and that night was a mistake, but Jaemin didn’t want to listen to reasons, he simply stated he knew and they didn’t have to justify with him. 

But it was clear it wasn’t like this when he heard that he and Hyejin fought another time, and Jaemin didn’t want to give her a chance. Honestly, he couldn’t understand why he was acting like this, but he had no idea how to talk to him without starting a fight. 

So, when Jaemin came to him instead, Haechan was more than surprised. 

It was a hot afternoon and they both were looking for the fresh air in the living room, watching a movie they picked together (without fighting) and turning on the fan to cool down. 

“Do you think she’s being honest?” 

At first, Haechan didn’t understand, he didn’t even get that Jaemin was talking to him, and only when his friend called out his name, he realized what was going on. 

“Mhh? Hyejin?” 

“Yeah, Hyejin,” Jaemin hummed, inclining his head to the side to make eye contact. 

“I don’t think I’m supposed to know what happened between you two,” he said. 

“But I know you do, Zoya scolded me already, so I guess Hyejin run to you two to talk,” he explained. 

Haechan shook his head. “She didn’t come to me, I doubt she will ever come to me to talk about something for a long time.”

“But do you know?” 

He hesitated to reply for a moment, trying to predict Jaemin’s reaction and don’t start a fight, but the man in front of him seemed almost relaxed, so he gave it a try. “Zoya said something, yes. And well, me and Hyejin talked that other night… but I’m not sure those words were real, we were drunk and overwhelmed.” 

“You talked about me?” Jaemin asked, sitting up straight, suddenly more interested in the conversation. 

“A bit,” he whispered, looking around the room. 

“Oh, bad news, isn’t it?” 

“No, I don’t think you should be the one to talk with.” 

“What did she say?” Jaemin insisted, ignoring his words. 

Haechan sighed, rubbing his neck before looking at him. “She’s afraid, she doesn’t want to use you and lose you, but she loves the way she feels when she’s with you,” he replied before chuckling bitterly, “she said nobody gets her like you do.” 

Jaemin’s mouth widened, surprised her words were the same, but even more shocked at the last part. “Nobody gets her like I do?” He asked again to make sure he heard right. 

Haechan nodded. “You thought she was lying?” 

He shook his head, falling against the couch again. “I don’t know what to think. I’m afraid she will never love me like she loved you.” 

Haechan laughed, and Jaemin looked at him sternly. “I’m sorry but… okay, listen, if there’s something that I know about her, is that when she loves, she loves deeply, and sincerely, and she would go to the end of the world for you. I also know I’ve done little to nothing to make her feel the same, so I don’t see how you and her could make a bad match.” 

“But you and her never made a bad match either and this didn’t work out.” 

“It’s different, it’s… we were never meant to be. We felt comfort in each other and just dived into a relationship that was never supposed to last. Just because we make great friends it doesn’t mean we make great lovers,” Haechan explained. After thinking about it over and over again, those words weren’t painful anymore, it simply was reality. And he felt like a weight was being lifted from his chest as he finally admitted that out loud.  

Jaemin sighed, not feeling any better at his friend’s words. “But me and her are friends too, what if it’s wrong?” 

“Is it? I’ve seen the way you both look at each other, I wouldn’t have gone jealous batshit for nothing. And honestly, it was even before we broke up. I knew you loved her, I could see it in your eyes, and the way you gently touched her, and I couldn’t say anything because deep down I knew I was in the wrong, I wasn’t loving her like you did, but she still wanted me, and that made me believe we could’ve walked past this storm too.” 

The blond couldn’t hide the surprise as he stared at him. “You weren’t jealous?” 

“I was, terribly, but I mostly showed it when me and her were alone. But that’s not what I want to talk about. I know she loves you too, she just needs time to understand what real love feels like.” 

Jaemin chuckled. “Why are you being so honest?” 

“Because you’re both my friends, and I’ve already fucked enough things up, I’m not going to make it worst.”  

“You’re not the only one that fucked things up,” Jaemin said, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, and I deserved that punch.” 

“No, you didn’t. I mean, you did, the punch wasn’t because you two fucked, especially considering you gave her a good time,” he joked and they both laughed. “You’re not so nice with your words, man. That hurt.” 

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” Jaemin said. “Friends like before?” He asked, reaching out a hand. 

“What’s with that? A hand? Hug me, idiot!” 

Jaemin never felt so much anxiety as he did at that moment, waiting for Hyejin to arrive as he stood under the tree at the park near the river. It was their usual spot when she would go with him to keep him company when he had to look after Iseul, there was a nice bench where they could sit and still have eyes on the little girl as she played around with her friends. 

But now the park was almost empty, and the only thing keeping him company was fear. 

More than a month went by since their last talk, more precisely their phone call, when Jaemin told her he needed time, they both did. He tried to explain to her he needed to leave again, take a small break, and see if this was just a fling or if his feelings were real, and he asked her to do the same. 

‘I know you don’t like fucking with strangers, I’m not asking you to do that,’ he chuckled through the phone, ‘but I need you to see the outer world, I need you to understand if you really want me or if I’m just the closest escape you have.’ 

Hyejin didn’t like that phone call, crying on the other side, repeating that her feelings were real, and she felt so guilty for what she did that night with Haechan. But Jaemin was firm in his decision, even if that talk with Haechan already convinced him halfway that Hyejin was being honest, now he needed the other missing half from her. 

Now, on a hot afternoon in late July, the moment of truth arrived. 

“Hi,” Hyejin’s voice rang behind him, making him get up and turn around to see her stand with a hand raised as she waved at him. 

“You look beautiful,” was the only thing he could say before he could stop himself and think twice. Her brown hair was put in two soft braids falling at the sides of her neck, the pink dress covering her midthigh, and the heart-shaped bag hanging from her shoulder. “I mean, we need to talk.” 

Hyejin giggled, lowering her head to hide the blush that coloured her cheeks, and then sat next to him, watching him follow her soon after. 

“I know, you texted me,” she said, and in her voice, masqueraded by lightheartedness, he could feel all the fear behind. His text was anxiety-inducing, as he let her know he came back from his trip to America and was ready to discuss their future.  

Jaemin nodded, gulping because he wasn’t used to having her this close anymore. Her scent felt like the closest thing to home. “I missed you,” he confessed, smiling at her. “I had fun, I went out, met new people, and yet, I still missed you. And… I thought about our conversation a lot,” he continued, slowly torturing his fingers and nails and bouncing his leg, “and I think I came to a conclusion.” 

Hyejin nodded, signaling him to go on. She wasn’t calm either, but when she got out of the house she didn’t get her hopes high, probably he just wanted to close this off once and for all, and she would’ve accepted every decision. 

“I think you’re being honest, and I’m sorry if I doubted you. Unless you’re an amazing actress, I have to admit that the way we acted carried some sort of feelings, and I won’t lie anymore and say I don’t love you, because I do, I love you so much that I think I’m willing to take this risk.” 

Hyejin blinked twice, not expecting him to be this honest, and especially not expecting so many pieces of information all at once. “You’re saying you want to give us a try? A real one?” 

“If you want to, of course,” he whispered, suddenly fearing it was too late and she had already changed her mind. “I mean, this trip, this break was for the both of us, so if you found out I’m not the one, and you fell for somebody else, everything I said, doesn’t matter.” 

“Of course, I do,” she said, “I want you. I tried to go out, I mean, I did. Zoya helped me with dating apps and things like this, but… my heart wasn’t there. With some people I even went out on more dates, but nothing clicked. And I realized that probably I started liking you long before I came to terms with it, that’s why I fucked it all up. Haechan was right, we both morally cheated on each other, but I genuinely wasn’t aware what I felt for you was love… love is such a strong word. I didn’t love you when I was dating Haechan, but I liked you. I liked spending time with you and it made me feel so good, so much better, and so much fuller than being romantically with Haechan ever did,” she confessed. “And I know it sounds like comparing but I need to set some lines and I need you to know those lines, I need to be honest with you, because I haven’t been as clear as you’ve always been with me, and you deserve clarity.” 

A tender smile crept on his lips, as much as he hoped for this answer, he wasn’t expecting it. “You know, Haechan was the reason I gave you another chance.” 

“What?” She asked, surprise blooming on her face.

Jaemin hummed, “I know, he’s the last person you would expect to talk some sense into someone, but he did,” he explained, laughing. 

“So, you’re not mad at him either? I haven’t been talking to him much…” 

“It sucks being mad at him, or you. I just think we all acted very human-like, isn’t what we are after all?” 

Hyejin couldn’t hold back the smile on her face as she nodded. “You know I can love you just as much if not more, right?”

“I know, but you can’t blame me for being afraid and doubting it. Every time I tried to open your eyes about him you were blinded by love…” 

“Honestly, I don’t think that love was that healthy. So, why don’t you let me love you right? No more blindness, no more hiding things, no more trying to hold onto things we’re not. I want to make this right, I need to. If in all that mess we were so beautiful, I can’t wait to discover what we can be now.” 

Jaemin reached for her hand, gently rubbing his thumb on her palm. “I want that too, but you need to promise me that you will always, always, talk to me if anything I do makes you feel bad, or uncomfortable, if you feel like I don’t listen enough. I’m not justifying you know who, but you don’t ever ask what you want out loud, and I can’t see inside your mind to know what you want. I mean, I kinda do, our chemistry and mind connection works pretty well,” he chuckled, making her laugh too, “but it won’t always be this easy.” 

Hyejin smiled, “I promise you I will communicate. I know it’s a flaw I have. Something you don’t…” 

“I mean, we fought a few times because I don’t keep anything in, so…” Jaemin joked, lifting his hands and tilting his head to the side, making her laugh. 

“You’re right,” she said, moving closer to him. “So… no more fights, and no more running away?” 

“No more,” he replied, pulling away from her hand so his palm could cup her cheek. “Can I kiss you?” 

“Of course, you can,” she said, pulling him close. 

The kiss was different from all the others they shared, it felt like the first real one. It wasn’t fearless, but those fears that danced around their lips were manageable and not as scary as the old ones. And their hands weren’t in a rush as they wrapped around each other, holding tight, never letting go. 

And that month spent away, far from the eyes, but not far from their hearts, had been more useful than they thought. It was necessary to don’t make other mistakes, to don’t rush things and end up in the same old schemes. 

“You know,” she whispered against his lips when they pulled apart to breathe, “I cried so much thinking I was never going to kiss you again.” 

A gentle smile crept on his face, soft eyes looking down at hers. “I’m sorry, but I needed time to think.” 

“I know, I needed my time too, but we’re here now, right? It’s all that matters.”

Jaemin’s smile only got bigger as he replied, “Yeah, it’s all that matters.”  

“We need to talk,” Haechan said, sitting up straight, lifting his head from Zoya’s lap to face her. 

“Don’t like the movie?” She asked, raising a brow, trying to mask the anxiety that shoot up to the roof. 

“No, fuck the movie, it’s about us,” he explained, swallowing deeply. 

“Oh, I don’t like this,” she chuckled, fixing her top to focus her nervousness on something else. 

“We can’t keep fucking and kissing and going out on dates without addressing any of this,” he went on. 

Zoya shrugged. “Why not? We’re friends… friends with benefits, maybe,” she replied but struggled to meet his eyes. 

“Really? Is this all it comes down to?” Haechan asked, a bitter edge in his voice as he raised a brow. “Friends with benefits?” 

“Then what are we?” 

Haechan sighed. “Don’t you ever stop and wonder if there’s something more? If we are something more?” 

She took her time to reply, swallowing hard before opening her mouth. “Lovers?” 

But he shook his head. “More than that,” he said, rubbing his temple. “It kept me up at night, but… but I think I’ve finally realized why I’ve been so torn up between you and Hyejin all these years.” 

Zoya waited, tears almost running down her cheek, but she swiftly wiped it away. 

“Because you two are both my soulmates but in a different way. And I need you both to breathe and stay afloat in the mess that my life is and — and I couldn’t tear the lines apart, because how could I do that when you both are the stars leading me home?” 

Zoya didn’t reply, she only felt thousands of emotions as she tried to take them in and elaborate them. This was a lot. And probably it could’ve also been considered weird from the outside, such a heavy word used for both her and Hyejin, but knowing what they have been through — what all of them have been through — it only seemed like the right word that could patch up everything together. The missing puzzle piece that finally gave a sense to the whole picture.  

“I love you,” Haechan slurred, “so fucking much, Zoya. I — I’ve loved you since the day I first saw you, and I didn’t even know what love meant back then, but you fitted right where you were supposed to be. You completed me from the start, since your trembling hand held mine and then became the hand dragging me into the unknown. And I’m fine if you don’t want me, if don’t love me, even, but I need to be honest with you, I need you to know what I feel, and what I’ve always felt. If you want to leave now, I don’t want to spend more years regretting things I didn’t say or things I didn’t do like the last time.” 

Not a single word came out of her lips, she simply jumped in his arms and kissed him, cupping his face in her hands and holding him tight. Tighter than ever before, right into the palm of her hands, just to make sure she couldn’t lose him this time, or ever. 

She was never good with words; it was clear when they became friends understanding each other with signs and body language, and it was also clear when she ran away instead of explaining to him her doubts. But most importantly, it was clear now, that that kiss held thousands of words, and the most important ones; I love you, too.

“I was thinking,” Jaemin let the phrase hang in the air while he looped his arm with Hyejin’s, “we could get a cat together.” 

Hyejin chuckled, looking down before lifting her gaze to him. “Already planning big, Mr. Na?” 

Jaemin shrugged, a small smirk curving his lips as he stared in front of them as they kept walking next to the Han River. It was a windy, sunny afternoon, and they were just enjoying the summer sun. “I’m just talking about a cat, or two… or three…” 

She playfully slapped his arm, making him flinch, and then said, “see, it’s always like this with you, we start with something small and then you go crazy.” 

“What? We both love cats,” he pouted, trying to win her with big, doe eyes. 

But she shook her head. “Where would we even keep them? We don’t live together.” 

“Not yet,” he whispered, but it wasn’t low enough for her to don’t hear. 

“Not yet? See, you are planning big,” she teased but failed to hide the genuine, touched smile on her face. 

“Maybe,” he gave up, “if we work out…” 

“If?” She gasped offended, holding a hand on her chest. “Are you set for failure?” 

“Oh, please, give me a break,” he replied, making her break out in a laugh. 

“I love messing with you,” she said, sending him a flying kiss. 

“But seriously… if this works out, can we get a cat?” 

Hyejin chuckled at his pouting eyes and lips and nodded. “You know me, I would never say no to a cat. We just need a house…” 

But Jaemin didn’t seem to register the last words as he happily jumped around, cheering like a kid. “I knew I could convince you!” 

“You didn’t do anything,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “And don’t erase the rest, we don’t live together.” 

“I know,” he said, pulling her closer again, “in the future, who knows.” 

Hyejin hummed, nodding weakly before taking a deep breath, and meeting his eyes. “Do you think I’m stupid if I don’t know what I want?” 

Jaemin panicked. “For us?” 

“No,” she reassured. “It’s just… I… maybe it’s because I don’t want to rush it with you, I want to take this slow because I feel that the pressure about the future, the living together, the family thing, is what burned me down. I know I want you, and I know we can make this work, but I want to be young and careless with you. Like, we have our whole life to pay the bills and do the laundry together, you know? But now, I want the silly dates, I want the rides back home, I want to text you to pick me up or vice versa, I want to ask you to sleep over for one night, I want to feel… carefree.”

“It’s not weird, I feel the same. I mean, I want the cats, I won’t lie,” he joked, making her laugh, “but I like what we have right now, and I think it’s right for our age.”

Hyejin smiled, wrapping her arms around his waist and letting her face flush against his broad chest, smiling happily. This was a safe place she never felt before, somebody respecting her space, time and needs, even while expressing his wants. This felt like heaven on earth, even if it was just a boring afternoon walking around the Han River. But what made it special was being with someone that made her feel whole. 

She didn’t want to count how many pictures Jaemin took of her, some in secret, some others begging her to pose in certain ways, giggling like a kid as he scrolled through the phone and struggled to pick one to make as his phone screen. 

And after he had finally picked one, he just changed it to a new one when, after walking down a side street close to Hongdae where they saw stray cats that demanded attention and he took a thousand others of her with the orange cat. 

“I take this as a sign, we should take him home,”

“And where? Haechan will die, and my landlord doesn’t allow cats,” she reminded him, still petting the small kitten that was rubbing its head on her knees. 

“But he’s orange,” Jaemin pouted, kneeling next to her. “And clearly loves you,” he added with a grunt when the cat didn’t pay him attention. 

Hyejin laughed, shaking her head. “Of course, he does. I’m snow white, every animal loves me.”

“Whatever,” he huffed, rolling his eyes, and getting up. “So, can we steal him?”

“We can’t keep him anywhere,” she repeated. “I’m sure he’s fine, he’s pretty fat for a stray cat. Maybe he’s not even stray. My cat would go around every house in town to ask for food, we had to lock him inside.”

Jaemin laughed, watching her get up when the cat decided it was enough cuddles for the day, walking away with his tail straight after meowing one last time. 

“Fine, I give up,” Jaemin said, hands lifted in the air as he shook his head. “Only cause I’m starving, should we head to a restaurant?”

“Oh, so you’re spoiling me today?” She asked with a sly smirk on her face before intertwining their hands and starting to walk down the road again. 

“I always do, you shouldn’t be surprised.”

She giggled, “I think I’ll never stop.”

After walking around for a while, they found a cosy Chinese place they’d never been to before and decided to try.

“You stole all my spring rolls, so much for someone that said didn’t want them,” Jaemin mocked, looking down at his empty plate. 

“I just wanted to have a taste,” she pouted, batting her lashes, distracting him from her chopstick and reaching for his dumplings. “Hey,” she gasped when he blocked her with a flick of his chopstick.  

“I can see you, even if you look mesmerizing I have to stay on the watch out when you’ re near my food.”

She tried not to show the effect the word ‘mesmerizing’ had on her and replied to him instead, “I thought you wanted to share with your girlfriend,” she pouted. 

“You ate them all, that’ s not sharing, that’s stealing,” he pointed out but still moved the plate of dumplings in the middle. “Eat. I’ll eat the pork and then order another one of the rolls.”

She smiled happily before grabbing one dumpling, but instead of bringing it to her lips, she brought it to his. “Since you’re so generous.”  

“Jaemin,” Hyejin’s breath was ragged as they tried to keep quiet in the dead of the night, carefully — not really — walking to her bedroom with the lights off. 

“I can’t wait any longer,” he whispered against the skin of her neck, lifting her up and quickly opening the door before closing it behind him. “You teased me all night, it was supposed to be the most romantic date ever but you just had to be horny.” 

Hyejin giggled as he laid her on the bed, hovering over her as he undid his tie with a quick, harsh tuck, throwing it behind, slowly followed by the blouse. 

“Let me take care of the rest,” she said, winking, and sitting up, swiftly reaching for his belt and zipper, pushing his pants down his leg. 

“You’re too dressed up for my liking,” he said, pushing her down again, hand reaching her back to unzip her red dress. 

Hyejin’s mouth was partly open to let out the first shaky breaths as Jaemin’s lips ran down her exposed skin, leaving soft kisses while his hands caressed every inch of her. She expected more eagerness given the constant dirty jokes during the expensive dinner he had spoiled her with, and especially for the way his hands couldn’t keep away from her, but Jaemin was taking it slow. 

He didn’t have to rush anymore, to feel her because the morning would’ve taken her away like the first time they shared, she was there, and she was going to be there forever if destiny was kind enough to don’t steal her from him. 

“You’re beautiful, you know,” he whispered as he trailed up on her stomach, in the hollow of her chest until he face her again, lips brushing against hers delicately. “I’m so, so lucky to have you.”

Hyejin’s cheeks tinted red before she had to look away, feeling her heart beat loudly in her ribcage. “I’m lucky to have you, too,” she shyly whispered back, forcing her gaze on him, that was now laying on his stomach between her legs. “I love you so much, Nana.”

Jaemin’s sweet, full of love, smile was a weird contrast with the way his eyes were lustfully staring at her, big hands around her thighs to keep her spread. 

“I love you, too,” and much more were his sweet words before he sank down. His tongue lapped over her slit, licking up the fluids that slicked down before wrapping around her clit, sucking harshly, making her hand clench around the sheets, fighting the urge to grip his blond locks and push him further down. It wasn’t long before his movements got messier, suctioning just right to send sparks down her spine and leaving her a moaning mess, lips bitten inside of her teeth to push down the cries and hips rolling against him as the pleasure doubled inside of her. 

Jaemin thought he could do this forever as he pushed her knee up, burying himself even more between her legs, having a ball in the muffled, sensual whimpers rolling out of her lips and her shy hands now gripping tightly at the base of his neck. 

“Taste so good, babe,” he praised, eyes flickering up to meet hers, smirking when her body shuddered at the contact. 

She couldn’t hold back the louder moan as the orgasm built up, and the only thing that could keep quiet was his fingers inside her mouth, sucking as eagerly as he was. Her back arched just to be forced down again by Jaemin’s hand, pressing her against the mattress as he helped her ride the orgasm, tongue moving in swift motion until she couldn’t take it anymore, gasping for air and squirming away from his eager mouth. 

“Calm, babe, I’m done,” he giggled, chest rumbling as he stood up, cleaning his lips with a lick of his tongue. And then his broad body was hovering over hers again while her hand pumped his hard dick, feeling the tip tease against her wet entrance. 

A broken gasp left their lips as he pushed in slowly, savouring every inch sinking into her warm core. Even then, Jaemin took his sweet time before moving, bottoming down and kissing her face, making her chuckle. 

He now knew he had all the time to tell her how much he loved her, but for now, he was going to show it with acts. His hands searched for hers, locking them at the side of her head before he drove his hips back and forth, watching her eyes flutter shut. 

“Kiss me,” she begged, fucked-out, glossy eyes staring into his. “Please, kiss me.”

And Jaemin didn’t make her repeat again, softly placing his lips on hers in a needy, yet delicate kiss. It got messy after a while, but their lips kept coming back to each other, drowning out breathy moans, while their hips rolled perfectly together. 

And it didn’t take long before their orgasm approached, hips slamming quicker against each other, and hands letting go of the hold just to wrap in his hair and pull him even closer. 

“Gonna come,” was the only thing Hyejin could mumble before the pleasure go to her head, leaving her gasping and arching her back. 

“Shit,” Jaemin grunted, head falling against her shoulder as he kept moving, riding their orgasms and feeling his legs go weak. 

Other breathless curses were shared as they rolled to the side, chuckling and giggling as they tried to calm down, nothing but silence and their ragged breaths filling the air once they consumed their love. 

“Come live with me,” Jaemin breathed out, turning his head to meet her eyes, now wide in surprise. 

A hesitant chuckle left her lips. “With you? You want us to live together?” 

“Yeah,” he replied, shifting completely to face her, “I know you said we shouldn’t rush it, but… didn’t we already almost live together? Don’t we already do it?” 

Her lips parted as she tried to come up with a reply, but failed to do so, and simply hummed. 

“I don’t think it would be rushing it, I won’t even start demanding the cats,” he joked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “But… we could be on our own. I know you and Haechan are friends again, and he’s dating Zoya, but it’s still a bit weird. And sometimes I feel like I’m stealing in my own place.” 

“I mean, I really wouldn’t mind, I think we make a great team,” she said. “But… right now?” 

Jaemin shook his head. “No, not now, we can wait. We can start looking and then move next year, start brand new.” 

She sighed, repeating his words as her eyes looked on the white sheets. “Start brand new…” It was scary, everything she ever dreamed of, the stability of a safe place to call home with the person she loved, and yet, now that it seemed so real, so possible, it was terrifying. 

“I’ve got a stable job, two jobs considering I’m still taking care of Iseul occasionally, you probably will also get that job as a teacher but even if you don’t, you’ve found people that are interested in your art and they want to offer you something. I think these are good signs, we won’t be struggling, and honestly, I would live in a cave if it meant to be with you.” 

Hyejin chuckled, hiding her face in the pillow and shaking her head. “You’re so cheesy.” 

“But it’s the truth, I don’t care.” 

“Fine,” she sighed. “We can start thinking about it, but we’ll only move if you do get that job,” she said, “they said you’re on the list, not hired,” she reminded him, making him roll his eyes. 

“You have to manifest things into reality.” 

“You daydream, honey, one of us has to stay grounded,” she said. “But anyway, if you get the job, if I do get the job, if I get an exhibition, or if some art-bro decides to pay my debts for the next ten years buying my canvas. And if we stay strong at least until November.” 

Jaemin’s smile dropped upon hearing the last phrase. “You think we won’t last?” 

“I’m just saying, let’s make sure we are as strong as we think we are,” she reassured him, pouting. “Come on, you know we will last. Also, in the meantime, we could spend more time at my place. Yeri and Ningning are not home much.” 

“Fine, I’ll move in with you, thanks for asking,” he joked, tickling her. 

“God, you’re so annoying,” she huffed, head rolling back before their lips met in a kiss. 

The chats were loud in the living room as the group of friends couldn’t stop talking about more and less. 

Hyejin wasn’t paying much attention to any of it, holding tight her full glass as she leaned close to the window of Jaemin’s bedroom, looking outside, letting the chaos fade away. 

“I couldn’t find you,” the familiar voice that reached her ears made her smile before she looked to the side, meeting Haechan’s relaxed face. 

“Trying to find a calm place,” she explained before hinting behind with a move of her head, “they’re loud.” 

Her best friend chuckled, nodding weakly before he sat on the chair that was out of the balcony. “You look happy.” 

Hyejin followed him outside, letting the chill December air hit her as she wrapped tighter in her black coat. “I am.” 

“I know we already made it up, and we’re fine now, but… I still feel like I need to thank you,” Haechan said, rubbing his hands together to fight the cold. 

“Thank me? And for what?” 

Haechan shrugged. “For being braver than me. For always knowing what’s right. I don’t know, you let us go and that made us bloom. I hated you so much for that at the start, but now, it feels like everything is right where it’s supposed to be.” 

It wasn’t easy, but everything slowly started to find its place again. With slow steps at times, growing closer together only came natural to them. It would’ve been so easy if it wasn’t for Zoya and Jaemin that put up with their awkwardness at first and still cared enough to share moments together so they could patch up what broke.

“I’d say it was reckless, but I like brave, too,” she joked, smiling at him. 

Haechan chuckled, rolling his head back before taking a deep breath, clouds of white disappearing as his hot breath came in contact with the cold. “You didn’t give up on me,” he said. “I… I thought we were never going to have this back, and as much as I wanted to respect your decision, it would’ve torn me apart. And I don’t think I can explain with words how grateful I am, how happy it makes me that you still chose me, after everything, after all the pain, you still picked me. And you still love me like you did all your life.” 

Hyejin chuckled tenderly, ruffling his hair. “It’s kinda impossible to hate your other half. Also, I would have to kill you if we ever stopped being friends, but I don’t like the idea of going to jail.” 

Haechan laughed, squirming away from her teasing hands before their eyes met. Everything was there, in the comfortable silence around them, in their hearts still beating like when they were three, sitting on the swings, as they talked, and talked, unaware of how important they were going to be to one another. Now they knew, now they also knew where they belonged, and nothing seemed so scary anymore. 

“I’m glad you found Jaemin,” he confessed, staring at her bright, happy and relaxed face. “I already told him, but I was so jealous when you two would spend time together because I could see it so clearly I wasn’t able to love you the way he did, and I hated it. But… I couldn’t force myself either way.” 

“I think it’s better like this. I think… I think me and him really fit together. I don’t want to jinx it,” she chuckled, “I don’t want to think about the future, I just want to enjoy it, but I know we work out together, I know this is right,” she said, smiling. “Honestly, all of this finally feels right. You and Jaemin getting the jobs you worked so hard for, my art finally taking over, and having another exhibition in a month, Zoya being back with us, our love lives that flow with no problems, and you and me, always.” 

Haechan smiled. “Yeah, it feels like our efforts are paying off.” 

A moment of silence passed and then he went on. “You really don’t hate me for Zoya? I know you have Jaemin now, but… you don’t feel angry?” 

Hyejin exhaled. “Why would I? I’m not a teenage girl anymore, I’m a grown woman, and I’m just grateful you two have each other. I wouldn’t wish for either of you to be with anybody else. You were always meant to be, it was written in the stars, and you know it.” 

Haechan wanted to agree and be more enthusiastic about it, but it didn’t seem fair to him that to get back to Zoya, to find her again, he had to hurt Hyejin instead. Because just like she predicted, now he could see it clearly. “I didn’t use you, not intentionally, I truly thought we would work out, and I’m so sorry.”

“Stop it, Hyuck,” she said lightheartedly. “We’re fine, we truly are. You were vulnerable, I was dumb, and we were our worst selves. But it doesn’t matter. I don’t want to look at the past anymore, we have a beautiful, bright future in front of us, and that’s all that matters.” 

“Zoya’s right when she calls you the wisest one of the trio,” he said, “well, quartet, now.” 

Hyejin laughed, resting her head on the wall before taking a deep breath. “Life is so weird,” she whispered, “and unfair, I’d add.”  

“It is.”

“Why does it have to be so complicated? It could’ve been so easy if Zoya never left, if Jaemin came into my life differently. It would’ve saved us all some suffering.”

“I hate it, too, but I fool myself into thinking that if things went differently, we wouldn’t be here today,” he replied, finally pushing his hands in the pockets of his jacket, giving up trying to keep them hot outside. 

“You still do that,” she chuckled, pointing at his hands. 

“Oh, please, leave me alone,” he huffed, pouting. “Can I confess something?”

“You had a fight with gloves and lost so now you can’t wear them anymore?”

“No, idiot,” he said, pushing her away with a hit of his shoulder, making her laugh. “Jaemin wasn’t supposed to come back here.”

“What?” she asked, eyes wide in surprise. 

“When he was talking about moving, his first choice was Europe. He wanted to try something else, change his life completely. Seoul wasn’t even in his top 10.”

“Oh my god... are you kidding me?”

“I wish I was.”

“And how did he come here?”

“I asked him to,” he confessed, “well, begged him.”

“Begged him?”

“It wasn’t so humiliating, I was just trying to show him that he should’ve learned yet another language to live in France, Italy, or Germany, and then...yeah...”

“Yeah...? That’s all you have to say? He could’ve gone to England. He speaks English.”

“He wanted to... he even wanted to go to Tokyo.”

“And yet, he’s here... why?”

Haechan sighed, taking a deep breath, meeting her eyes. “I missed him,” he breathed out. “I needed a friend, and I know he needed one too. We would always talk about meeting again every summer and then we never would, and... I needed him. I have lots of friends but, do you know when you just feel like something is missing? That’s what I felt. Also, I think a part of me didn't want to deal with thousands of texts about him learning Spanish or Thai through Duolingo or 240p quality series on youtube.”

Hyejin laughed, shaking her head. “I think he’s still learning something on Duolingo, I hear that beep every now and then when he comes over, late in the evening because he has forgotten to do his lessons.” 

Haechan laughed. “Maybe he’ll take you to Madrid, or Hamburg.”     

“To live there?” she whispered. 

Haechan shrugged. “He’s crazy, so brace yourself, anything could happen with him.”  

Hyejined laughed, holding herself tighter. “So you’re the reason he’s here.”

“Yeah, but what I’m saying is... there was no other way for things to go. He wouldn’t be here now, he would be on the other side of the world and you would know him as the Skype friend, or the crazy guy that thought dropping everything to live in a peasized country in Tuscany without speaking the language was a great idea, but he wouldn’t be yours. He wouldn’t be your Jaemin, just another anonymous face. And God knows what would’ve been of us, living in a lie, and losing ourselves thinking of still having each other.”

Hyejin hummed, resting her head against his shoulder, arms intertwining with his. “It was supposed to end like this,” Hyejin said, “and I’m glad it did. If you never bleed, you can’t grow, right?”

“Right,” he smiled. “Now let’s hope we can just exist for a while.”

“We will, it looks so bright ahead of us, Hyuck. We climbed a thousand mountains together, I’m sure no obstacle is big enough to shut us down.”     

The house started emptying, and as the night deepened, they were the only ones left in that place, trying to clean up the most and leave the rest for the morning to come. 

“So, I think it’s time to go,” Hyejin said, eyeing the clock, bringing everyone’s attention to her. 

“Already?” Jaemin asked, feeling he didn’t spend too much time together. Not true at all considering they were clingy and were always standing side by side, but since there were other friends over they didn’t have a lot of one-on-one time. “Want me to drop you off?” 

“No, it’s alright, I came with my car,” she replied. 

“Why don’t you stay?” Haechan proposed, walking to the side, showing himself behind Jaemin, Zoya standing behind him. “It’s late, and we could watch a movie before going to bed. It wouldn’t be the first time, right? Well, the first time with Jaemin, and the first time where… everything is right, but, it’s still the same?” 

Hyejin smiled, looking around, meeting Jaemin’s big smile and his subtle — not so subtle — bouncing on the spot, and then Zoya’s eyes. 

“Hyuck’s right, you should stay. We can have a small celebration on our own, nobody has to work tomorrow anyway.” 

“I agree,” Jaemin added. “We’re better when we’re four.” 

“Fine,” Hyejin gave up. “You didn’t need to do all this to convince me, driving at this hour of the night was the last thing I wanted, but I appreciate being wanted,” she joked before dropping her bag right where it was before and slipping out of her shoes. 

“Come with me, we’ll get some drinks while they pick a movie,” Zoya said, grabbing her hand and dragging her into the kitchen. 

While they were busy picking something, Zoya talked. 

“I’m so glad that we’re back, stronger than before,” she said. “I think I will never thank you enough for everything.”

Hyejin giggled, “Haechan said the same thing, you two really are connected.” 

Zoya chuckled, pulling some cans out of the fridge before resting against the countertop, watching Hyejin search for the food. “When you and Haechan broke up I feared something broke forever, and I hated it because not only do I think something as beautiful as what you two share should last forever, but also because I didn’t want to be forced to pick between one of you again. I did that when I was a stupid teenager, but doing it right now would’ve hurt me, a lot.” 

“Thank god we’re not stupid teenagers anymore, right?” 

“Right,” she replied, smiling. “And you’re wearing the top I crocheted you,” she added, not able to hold back the proud smile as her eyes skimmed over her friend’s body. 

Hyejin smiled back, 

“Of course I am. Did you think I would throw it in the closet and leave it to rot?”

“I don’t know, not everyone likes those things,” she said. 

“I’m not everyone,” she said, “And I told you I love it, it’s soft and fits me perfectly. I might need another one, you know?”

“For the summer, I’m trying to crochet a hat for Haechan and... it’s messy,” she snorted, making Hyejin laugh. 

“You should teach me, I’ve always wanted to learn but never did.”

“Fine by me, but only if you teach me how to draw,” Zoya said, reaching her hand out. 

Hyejin shrugged, shaking her hand. “Deal?”

“Deal.”  

“Hey! You two are lost? The fridge ate you?” Haechan screamed from the living room, making them laugh and walk out of the room after one last smile. 

“We’re alive,” Zoya shouted. 

“You won’t get rid of us that easily,” Hyejin added, slumping on the couch next to Jaemin, kissing his lips softly. 

“It’s a movie we’ve never seen before,” Haechan said, fixing the pillows and making space for Zoya to sit next to him. 

“So if it sucks it’s not our fault,” Jaemin defended. 

“Stop stealing my food,” Hyejin screamed, slapping Haechan’s hand away halfway through the movie. 

“I wasn’t stealing,” he defended. 

“Your hand in my bowl says otherwise,” she groaned. 

“If we want to be honest, it’s my bowl, I paid for it,” he retorted, sticking his tongue out. 

Hyejin scoffed. “You’re such a child. And steal food from your girlfriend, leave me alo— Jaemin!” She screamed, turning to the right when her boyfriend sneaked his hand in her bowl. “Zoya, say something!” 

“What? That we’re surrounded by thieves?” 

“It wasn’t stealing, it was borrowing,” Jaemin defended, shrugging. 

“Right, it’s sharing,” Haechan added, leaning forward to high-five Jaemin.

“You two need to be kept far away from each other,” Hyejin said, pushing Jaemin away until he reached the armrest of the sofa. 

“That won’t stop me from reaching your bowl,” Jaemin chuckled. 

Hyejin rolled her eyes. “If it’s you it’s fine.” 

“Excuse me?” Haechan gasped offended. “What about me?” 

“You can starve,” she replied. “Also, your bowl is full.” 

“It’s a different flavour,” he pouted before leaning into Zoya’s ear and whispering something. 

“I won’t ask her for her food to give it to you,” Zoya said out loud, chuckling, making Hyejin laugh at Haechan’s face. 

“You traitor!” he gasped. “I’m surrounded by snakes, fine.” 

“We can share,” Jaemin said, handing him his bowl. 

“This is not the one I want,” he fake-cried. 

Hyejin laughed, moving closer again, dragging Jaemin with her. “Here, pain in the ass, you can have some.” 

Haechan smiled content. “See, I don’t need you,” he stuck his tongue out toward Zoya. “I mean, I do, not for this, though,” he added, making her laugh as she shook her head. “Love you,” he said to Hyejin before taking the chips. 

Hyejin let out a light-hearted scoff and rolled her eyes, leaning her head against Jaemin, “You can have them too, obviously.” 

“I know, I don’t even have to ask”, he joked. 

When the movie almost came to an end, Zoya was already sleeping against Haechan’s shoulder, and Jaemin was laying with his head on Hyejin’s lap, not sleeping yet, but dozed off enough that Hyejin was sure he missed half of the conversations and plot.

And she and Haechan were still awake, paying attention to the screen as they occasionally made jokes about the movie. 

Everything about this felt oddly familiar and warm. It felt right, everything had found its place, everything was going down the right road. 

And right at that moment, when Haechan laughed louder than usual, making Zoya and Jaemin groan, Hyejin realized she had finally found the peace she didn’t even know she needed this much one year ago. 

It truly sunk in that this was what she and Haechan were supposed to be, always each other Peter Pan and Tinkerbell, something destined to stay a beautiful friendship and an impossible love story, something that probably would’ve been real in another land, Neverland, a place that only exists in the wildest imagination, but it still didn’t make it any less special. They would’ve always been there for each other, simply not in the way they imagined. 

But in this fairytale called real life, her prince was someone else; a cat lover with dyed blonde hair that fit him so well they looked natural, with a contagious laugh and words too honest to don’t cut like a knife and yet heal like magic. In this fairytale, she also found a close friend again, someone she should’ve learned how to love years ago, someone that she shouldn’t have painted as a villain. And most importantly, she still had her best by her side.

This was going to be just the start of a new life, but of one thing she was sure; no matter how hard life would’ve gotten, or where it would’ve led them, they would’ve always found a way back to each other, a way to find a glimpse of each other. 

— 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐔𝐒 —

“You didn’t start annoying me when November passed,” Hyejin whispered in the quiet of the night, tracing circles on Jaemin’s exposed chest. The smell of sex was still lingering in the air as they let their bodies cool down. 

“You wanted me to?” 

Hyejin chuckled, “Yeah… I didn’t want to be the first one to bring up moving together. You know, this time is real.” 

“I didn’t want to pressure you,” he confessed, tightening the hold around her waist a bit more. “I can’t stand living with Haechan anymore, but I don’t mind crashing at your place… like right now.” 

Hyejin laughed, turning around, chest pressing against the mattress as she stared at him through her messy bangs. “I want to go live together,” she said. “I want the cats, and… I might have a surprise for you.” 

Jaemin’s eyes widened, sitting up straight. “You scare me.” 

“I know, but it’s almost Christmas, and I could put that under the tree… but no, I really can’t, because we don’t have time to wait for that.” 

His eyes widened even more, heart racing. “Just tell me what it is.” 

“This,” she said, handing him her phone opened on the gallery. “I might’ve blocked a cheap offer on the other side of town, close to your kindergarten kinda, and to what might be my school next year, if they keep their promise.” 

“Oh my god,” he gasped, finger running on the screen as he scrolled down the pictures of the small house. 

“It’s falling apart, I know, that’s why it’s cheap. But it’s nice, and the landlord is a sweet lady, she loves us already. Okay, she’s Iseul’s grandmother, and Iseul might’ve talked about us in a very romanticized way but it doesn’t matter because she said we can do whatever we want with it, and she won’t annoy us, and yes, we need to fix it, but —” 

Jaemin shut her up with a kiss, cupping her cheeks to pull her closer. “Yes, a million times yes,” he exclaimed. “I love it,” he said, eyes sparkling as he stared into hers. “I love you.” 

Hyejin’s smile grew even bigger, feeling a bit of anxiety leaving her stomach after seeing him so excited. “I still think it’s scary, but as much as I love the girls, I need my spaces and my own place. But I can’t really afford it alone, and, oops, you seem like a fitting choice for a roommate.” 

Jaemin laughed before turning serious, “Call me your roommate again and you’ll have to fix that house on your own,” he joked. “No, but seriously, it’s so pretty. And it even has a small garden.” 

“Yeah, it was pure luck, a few weeks ago when you were talking with Iseul’s parents, and her grandma was there, it just slipped out of my mouth because Iseul draw cats and I thought of what you told me, and then her grandma offered it to me. She could wait a bit more but you know Iseul’s mother, and also… I really think we need our space. And we can’t make our memories at Haechan’s or even here…” 

“You know I’m fine with this. The one that wasn’t sure about this big step was you.” 

“Because I always dreamed of this but the other person never gave me signs of wanting it to be a reality, so my delusions, were just delusions. But my delusions with you become scary, big steps to take,” she explained, her tone was lighthearted but he could feel the lingering fear behind it. “And I love it. Because we’re on the same track, I just need to get used to it. You know… no more fighting for what I want because you’re already holding my hand and we’re doing it.” 

Jaemin’s smile grew big on his face. “Good to know we have each other to back us up with our crazy ideas,” he said, pulling her in for another kiss. 

She giggled against his lips, hands slipping in his locks before they fell on the bed again. 

“Why are you smiling like this?” Hyejin asked, getting lost in his pretty features, his cheekbones, his long lashes and that smile that threw her stomach upside down. 

“I... I was just thinking that all of this... is surreal,” he explained, gulping and turning to her. “I dreamed of you every day and night just a few months ago and now...” he sighed, smile growing bigger, making it impossible to talk, “now you’re mine, and I’m yours. And you just asked me to move in together. I used to think I would’ve moved out because I couldn’t stand seeing you in that situation and now, I’m moving out with you.”

Hyejin didn’t reply right away, her eyes were fixed on his, taking him in, letting her mind wander back when their story started. “It was in the eggs.”

Jaemin chuckled, shaking his head before rubbing a hand on his face. 

“What? You gave me a heart attack that day and destiny decided to punish you with me forever,” she said, batting her lashes and making a heart with her hands under her chin. 

“Oh, damn, forever with you is my punishment? Oh, no, Lord, save me, I can’t live like this,” he joked, pretending to be heartbroken. 

“Idiot,” Hyejin said, pushing him away. “No, don’t tickle me,” she yelled when his hands reached her waist and started moving on her, ending up in a tangled mess with the sheets as they both started to laugh and tickle each other. 

“Shut the hell up, I’m trying to sleep,” Yeri screamed, slamming the door open and staring down at them. “I closed an eye for the sex because, Lord, do I wish to be in your place and I’d love for you to do the same when my turn will finally come, but this lovers bullshit is where I draw the line.”

They both quickly covered themselves, giggling under their teeth as they tried to keep a straight face and nod. 

“Sorry, Yeri,” Jaemin apologized first, nudging Hyejin to do the same. 

“Yeah, sorry, won't happen again,” she said, smiling at her. 

“Good,” Yeri sighed, before glaring at them, “because if I have to get up and come here again, I’ll kill you.”

Hyejin and Jaemin broke into a silent laugh when she closed the door behind her, falling on the mattress and trying to muffle the sounds with the sheets and then staring at each other’s faces with lips pursed to don’t get murdered by her roommate, only calming down after a minute and then Jaemin broke the silence. 

“We’re calling Iseul’s grandmother tomorrow.”

© neowinestaindress; all rights reserved. do NOT repost, modify, or translate any work from this blog on any other platform and claim it as yours. you can find my works on ao3 (neowinestaindress) and wattpad (winestaintedress_; currently inactive).

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[deathbxnny]

Love your works, keep going but don't forget to take care of yourself!

Its my first time requesting so bare with me, though you dont really need to do this. I just want angst hahahah.

Hsr men

You know the thing like if either they pick the world/everyone's sake or you thingy, hahahahah

Anyone really but put bladie first.

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A/N: ohh I absolutely love that idea! It makes for great angst, so I hope you'll like this! And thank you for the request!<33

Featured characters: Blade, Jing Yuan, Welt

Content: Established relationship, angst, hurt/no comfort, mentions of betrayal (?), just pain

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not fully proofread))

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》Blade

It wasn't the world or anyone else he had to choose between. No, for him, it was the revenge he sought after for so long and you. Revenge is what motivated him and kept him going. It's all he wanted, all he needed. If he could get his revenge, then he'd finally be free from this hell.

And he was a selfish man. A man, who ultimately only cared for himself in the end. Who always prioritised himself over anything and everything. Including you. He told you this, he told you how he thought and how he was. He gave you a warning and you still stayed. He laid out the red flags for you and you still stayed.

So why were you so surprised, when he chose his goals over you with such unashamed ease? Did you really think, that he'd change for you? That he'd give up everything for you? Perhaps you were foolish to think that he would.

Not that he seems to care, as he leaves your crying and broken form behind. Ignoring the painful ache in what was left of his heart, before it too diminishes by the lack of you near him.

-----♡

》Jing Yuan

It was Jing Yuan's duty to protect the Xianzhou Luofu and it's citizen. He swore it under oath centuries ago, he spent years and years of training and energy to perfect himself for his job as well. It was important to him. So important, that he couldn't think twice, when it came to choosing the ship over you.

And it was so painful. It tore out his soul. Destroyed his heart, until there was nothing left. He wished, that he would never have had to choose and yet it was for the greater good. Even if you hate him after this, surely you'd still be able to live on safely.

He can't even look you in the eyes anymore, the shame fighting his guilt, as he steps away and apologises for the 1ppth time. Then he leaves, his eyes trailing over your broken form in pain and heartbreak, before they also turn away.

He takes it as his last memory of you, so that he can remind himself of the consequences of his sacrifices and suffer for another lifetime for them.

-----♡

》Welt Yang

It was always the world for Welt. Always. No matter what dimension or timeline it was, he always protected the world. And his world included you, but even that wasn't so simple. In order to save you, he had to let you go, he knew that.

So he didn't hesitate to send you away, promising that in another life, or dimension, you two could finally be together. But you ofcourse don't understand. Why can't you choose him here? Why was the world so much more important than you? Why can't he just choose you for once?

His heart rips apart, as he can only silently walk away, unable to answer any of your questions. He thought, he'd be stronger than that. He thought, that he was used to this. And yet, it took him all his strength to not turn around and go back to you.

In the end, he secretly felt like it was all for nothing. He may have saved the world, but lost you in the process. And what's the point, if he can't have you next to him?

-----♡

A/N: Alright, I hope that was angsty enough for you, Anon! Thank you again for the request!<33

[waynes-multiverse]

Soldier boy x breeding kink because we all know he has one 🥵🤰

@syrma-sensei

A/N: A fun one! Wasn't even surprised I got this one twice. Like lovely anon put it so perfectly, we all know that man has a heavy breeding kink, and I was all too happy to make his (and your) wishes come true. Let myself get a little inspired by the lyrics of the Zombie's song for this one 😈

Pairing: Soldier Boy x F!Reader

Warnings: +18/NSFW, drinking, celebrity name drops, smut (rough p in v, dirty talk, breeding kink, daddy kink, spanking, slight degrading, a technical age gap), naive reader, SB being a manipulative asshole

Word Count: 1.5k

Main Masterlist || Dirty Drabbles Masterlist

Time of the Season

April 1969

“She’s too young for you.”

Soldier Boy heaves an irritated sigh at his manager’s words but keeps his sparkling green eyes stubbornly trained on the young waitress who’s currently refilling Alan Arkin’s champagne glass. “Nonsense, Legend. She’s perfect. Just fuckin’ look at her,” he huffs and nurses his scotch.

“I am,” his manager insists. “She’s too fucking young for you. You’re technically turning fifty this year. Times are changing. You can’t just wet your dick with any pussy you want anymore. That girl doesn’t look older than twenty.”

“Twenty-three, actually,” Soldier Boy smirks cunningly. “I asked around. Prime of her life.”

The Legend scoffs and shakes his head. “Why don’t you fuck someone your age, huh? Like Katharine Hepburn?”

“You’re fucking kidding, right? That fucking broad is even older than me,” Soldier Boy bites and motions down two tables to the actress in question, admiring her little golden statue. He almost won one of those himself in 1951 for his biopic – not that he needs that useless glory.

“Do you know who has to clean up your fucking mess if you go a little too rough on this poor girl again? I do! And then there’s the reporters and the tabloids…”

“I’ll be careful, okay? Trust me. Last thing I wanna do is fucking break her,” he chuckles devilishly and empties his tumbler, flagging the young waitress down for another drink.

“Yes, sir? Can I get you another one?” She smiles brightly at him, shifting nervously on her low heels.

“That would be fantastic, doll,” Soldier Boy smiles charmingly up at her, causing a red tint to haunt her cheeks. “And how about you give me your name as well and tell me when I can get you outta this boring event, hm? Someone as pretty as you surely deserves to have some fucking fun, too.”

“Wow, I’ve never been here before,” the young girl gasps with eyes as wide as the illuminated Hollywood sign on the hills when Soldier Boy shoos her into his usual suite at the Chateau Marmont – room 29. “Was that Desi Arnaz in the lobby?”

“Uh-huh, yeah,” Soldier Boy mutters disinterestedly as he shuts the door behind them and wanders to the bar, pouring himself a glass of scotch on the rocks. “Lucy’s probably nagging the shit outta him again.”

“Really? But they seem like such a lovely couple,” Y/N, that's her name, says in surprise and eagerly accepts the glass of alcohol he hands her.

“Yeah, it’s called TV, doll. It’s all fake,” Soldier Boy forces a smile to his lips and sips on his drink as he leans against the dresser across from her, raking his eyes over her exquisite, hourglass body. Nice rack, juicy ass, and perfectly wide hips with a small waist he could squeeze between his large hands. With a figure like hers, she surely wouldn’t have any trouble bearing his sons.

“It’s so crazy. I grew up in a small town in Kansas. Never imagined any of this when I came here, much less meeting someone like you,” she explains, her cheeks blushing rosy-red.

Soldier Boy only chuckles, loving that he already has this girl exactly where he wants her without putting much effort into it. “Well, sugar, it’s my pleasure. Like I said, gorgeous girl like you deserves some attention,” he coos and saunters over to the bed, sitting down next to her. His hand reaches out and gently brushes a few loose strands of hair behind her ear, practically feeling the heat radiate off her cheeks from the simple gesture.

“I’m not that pretty,” she swallows insecurely and hides parts of her face. “Why did you pick me? There were way more beautiful and more important women in that room. I saw how Brigitte Bardot looked at you the whole night.”

Ben purses his lips, shaking his head. “Nah, you have something that these whores don’t have, doll. All they want is money and fame. I’m not interested in that. I’m not even interested in that for a fuck,” he lies before mixing in the truth, “You see, what I want is a family. A nice, obedient wife to come home to after a long, hard day.”

“Wife?” Her eyes widen in disbelief, but as he expected, she isn’t appalled by the idea.

His smile widens as he strokes the apple of her cheek. “Yeah, you know? Someone who takes care of me, can give me kids, make me dinner, bake a decent pie,” he tells her.

“Really? Well, I actually make a great blueberry pie. Even won a contest in my hometown a few years back,” she informs him proudly.

“See? I knew you were the perfect girl for me the moment I laid eyes on you,” Soldier Boy grins broadly. “And I mean, I don’t wanna impose, but you’re probably sick of waitressing and working odd jobs to make ends meet at this point, aren’t you? C’mon, lemme take care of you, huh? I can give you everything you want. You want a house? A credit card? Nice clothes? I’ll make sure every dream you have comes true, baby girl.”

For a moment, Y/N chews on her bottom lip before she meets his gaze with a hopeful look shimmering in her eyes. “You mean it?”

“Of course! I’d never lie to you, my sweet girl. You can trust me. I'm America's hero, after all,” he smiles slyly and lifts her chin with two fingers, forcing her to keep eye contact. “There’s just one thing you have to do for me.”

“Okay, anything,” Y/N all too eagerly nods her agreement. “Can I just ask your real name first? I don't wanna call you Soldier Boy during, uhm...”

Soldier Boy laughs lowly. “I’ll tell you in the morning, baby girl. How about for tonight, you just call me daddy, hm?”

“Fuck, daddy! Harder, please!” Y/N moans as he has her bent on the bed, crying out on all fours for him as he fucks into her from behind. Her perky ass is high up in the air as he grips the flesh on her hips, bruising her delicate skin purple, green, and blue.

Y/N has been a bit of a very positive surprise. So much so that he’s actually considering keeping the bitch. First of all, she’s deliciously loud. Dickhead Howard Hughes has already knocked on their door twice and complained about the unbearable noise level. Secondly, Y/N’s submissive and obedient and does just about anything he tells her to do. Nothing seems too shabby or naughty for that little whore. He fucked her throat till she was choking and crying, and still, she didn’t even whine once. She’s damn responsive, too, and comes faster than lightning. And last but not least, her pussy is probably one of the tightest ones he’s ever had, and if he didn’t plan on fucking a spawn into her, he’d love to fuck her asshole as well, but he supposes that one has to wait till she’s on her period, or better yet – already round with his child.

His balls tighten at the thought alone, slapping against her cunt as his thumb furiously rubs her clit to force another orgasm out of her. He just needs one more clench of his cock before he’s ready to burst as well and coat her walls with his seed.

“You’re gonna be my little breeding bitch now, huh?” Soldier Boy prompts, his palm sharply coming down on her asscheek as he spanks her luscious flesh, both globes already burning red from his constant abuse, but damn, he just can’t get enough of that noise.

“Yes, daddy… Wanna be full of your cum,” she whimpers needily and even pushes her hips back into him to meet his thrusts.

“Such a good slut you are,” he praises her and spanks her other cheek as well. “‘M proud of you, baby girl. You’re gonna make a great mother to our sons.”

“Fuck yes!”

“Gonna come for me again, hm? Need you to come one more time when I’m deep, so I can pump that pretty pussy full of cum,” Soldier Boy groans, spearing his thick cock in and out of her abused cunt.

One last harsh pound of his hips and Y/N breaks down, her pussy violently pulsating around his throbbing length and milking him dry as she takes him over the edge with her as her orgasm ripples through her small body. An animalistic grunt leaves his throat as he shoots hot ropes of cum deep inside her.

When he feels his dick soften, he carefully lays them both down, keeping her in place and his cock in her cunt as their sweat-clad bodies stick together on the filthy sheets. She’s breathing heavily, close to passing out, as he chuckles and lays a flat palm on her lower belly, gently brushing the spot.

“Fuck, you’re gonna look so good carrying my child, baby girl,” he whispers softly into her ear.

“Thank you, daddy. You’re the best,” Y/N mumbles blissfully, her eyes closing.

Y/N’s the sixth girl he fucked raw in the last couple of months. He always tells them the same thing but ends up fucking and leaving. All he wants is to know that his DNA is living on somewhere, running around in the world out there. But honestly? Y/N’s so perfect that he might just keep this one as a side piece and fuck a million more kids into her. Maybe he'll even buy her that fucking house.

Pfff, can you tell I had fucking fun with this one? 🤣

Btw, I've decided to keep the dirty drabbles open for now, so you can keep sending them in if you have more smutty thoughts and kinks to get off your chest 😉 I already have a loooot for Dean, so Beau, Jensen, and SB especially are very welcome! There's no timeline when I'll post them. I figured this could just be a fun little idea we can keep doing in between ☺️🤷‍♀️

So, you have a kinky request? Then fill up my ask box, bitches 🖤

Tag Lists:

Everything J: @extraterrestriali @this-is-me19 @writercole @awkward-and-indecisive @eevvvaa @panicking-outside-the-disco @globetrotter28 @imherefordeanandbones @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @xlynnbbyx @jassackles @maggiegirl17 @perpetualabsurdity @deans-spinster-witch @deandreamernp @foxyjwls007 @roseblue373 @lyarr24 @deanwanddamons @deanwithscissors @mrsjenniferwinchester @justrealizedimmascifygurl @akshi8278 @flamencodiva @chriszgirl92 @wittyboldsoul @djs8891 @leigh70 @snowlovespie @b3autyfuldisast3r @ladysparkles78 @muhahaha303 @mimaria420 @creepzeyecandy @iamsapphine

[izubabes]

OMG YOU DO NOT KNOW HOW MUCH I ENJOY READING YOUR WRITING (WILL STAY AS ANON BC THIS IS AN NSFW REQ AND IM SHY :')) and since your requests are open here i am (◠‿・)—☆

scenario: them hooking up one time and her denying she liked it and avoiding him for weeks. then they run to each other in the campus, him dragging her to a vacant room smirking, she says "need something, haitani?" "you know exactly what I need”

and when it gets 🌶️🌶️ please add a scene where she says panting "this is a one time thing" he smirks while licking his fingers "liar."

THANK YOU BEFORE DHSKAK <3

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭!𝐑𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝: 𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝? 𝐑𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝, 𝐬𝐞𝐦𝐢-𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐩 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐈 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭. 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭, 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧! (っ◔◡◔)っ ♥

The hot gossip on campus? Ran Haitani never goes after the same girl twice, no matter how much pleasure she brought him. As soon as he's satisfied, it's onto the next gorgeous gal who'll let him into their bed. He's known as a walking sex god; anyone would be blessed to have him stick his dick inside of them at least once. Charismatic and overwhelming handsome and Roppongi’s local celebrity? He was born lucky.

Rumor has it he fucked an entire sorority house, leading to their messy disbandment in which he was the sole reason to blame. He became the university’s resident fuckboy, the top dog who could anyone at his feet when he came calling. Word on campus always spreads like wildfire especially when it comes to the popular crowd and their colorful activities.

“Ran Haitani knows how to work those hips… He made me squirt all over him! He likes it messy.”

“Ran can last way longer than my ex did! I would ride him again, no questions asked.”

“Ran is such an animal in bed! He nearly broke my back, but it was sooo worth it. Rindou's dick game is just as powerful.”

“I heard Ran likes it rough, I would die for a chance to get in his pants, I know for a fact he’s packing!”

Ran Haitani is a menace. You never cared for the delinquent nor hearing the details of his vibrant sex life. You had shared a couple of classes previously, but you hated the way he had blatantly stared at you like he wanted to eat you. He never bothered to speak to you either, clearly too focused on other matters than to introduce himself properly despite the way he constantly ogled you.

If he wanted to waste his college career by fucking every set of pretty legs that caught his attention, let him do so. You promised yourself that you would never cross paths with either of the Haitanis, opting to indulge yourself in your studies in order to graduate on time rather than doting on men who would never want more than to hit it and ghost you afterwards.

Your roommate, Kana, interrupted your thoughts as she showed you an incoming group text on her phone. "Hey Y/N, did you hear the news? Ran and Rindou are having a kickback party at their place this weekend. Practically everyone on campus is going, girl! We should go enjoy ourselves for once instead of wasting our youth."

You rolled your eyes at the alluring suggestion, an overwhelming feeling of disgust arising in your gut. Any explicit mention of the Haitani brothers rattled your bones with pure distaste. "Kana, I could care less about what Ran Haitani does in his free time. The bastard is a walking petri dish of STDs... I do not want to associate with him if it isn't required."

Kana clung to your side, teary and pleading eyes burning a hole into your wavering ones. She could be incredibly convincing with her signature pouty expression and relentless begging. "Come on, girl! It'll be fun, I doubt we would run into them anyways, they have their own inner circle of friends. We're just going to blow off some steam."

"I guess it wouldn't hurt... What could possibly go wrong?"

Call it a momentary lapse in judgement, a lesson from the godforsaken universe, a form of cruel karma that would serve a humiliating reminder of your actions. Alcohol was not a factor in this situation, considering the fact you hated the bitter taste and the way it lingered in your gut like a sick feeling you couldn’t shake off. Kana had disappeared minutes after entering the house, claiming she would come back with a couple of drinks for the both of you.

Yeah, right.

The air in the living room was thick with perspiration, drunk bodies swayed to the beat of the music as People shamelessly made out against the walls, groping each other for the world to marvel at. It was too much, too noisy, not enough room for a single puff of oxygen to pass through your lungs and it was becoming increasingly overwhelming. You pushed through the crowd in an attempt to find Kana or a bit of space, desperation crawling up your spine as the area became more and more condensed, the grip you had on reality was spinning at a ridiculous speed and loosening further and further. You bumped into someone’s chest, knocking their drink onto the floor, as you immediately began sputtering apologies. “I’m so sorry!”

“Woah babe, are you okay?” Ran had struck up a conversation with you, noticing how uncomfortable you seemed in the crowd of drunk partygoers. He offered to help you find a quiet place to relax no matter how many times you tried to brush him off during the encounter. Despite how innocent his intentions may seem; you kept your guard up as a means to keep yourself safe.

You panted, frantically trying to calm the way your heart ravaged your body, threatening to burst out of your chest. “J-Just peachy, Ran. What do you want?”

Ran put the pieces together in a matter of seconds, tilting your chin up to gaze up at him. He was clearly worried, glancing over your features for any sign of injury or distress, which caught you off guard. “You’re not much of a party person, are you?”

“I am!” You scoffed at the statement, becoming more and more self-aware of how the crowd of guests kept growing by the second, practically pushing you against his body. “It’s just too noisy… Kana should be around here.”

“Come with me,” Ran said, tugging on your hand before you could object. His tender grip was soothing as he effortlessly weaved his way through the masses, practically parting the seas with his presence. "You're going to pass out if you stay here."

Reluctantly, you agreed after so many incessant requests, following him upstairs and disappearing into the sanctuary of his room, ignoring the lewd hollers coming from his friends down below. Ran gently ushered you in, closing the door and muffling out the sounds of the mayhem from downstairs. He began picking up the stray clothing littering the floor, kicking away notebooks and readjusting the furniture in his space.

“Sit anywhere you like, sorry about the mess. I try to keep it clean, but Rindou always wrecks my room when he’s—”

You crossed your arms over your chest, sitting on the farthest end of his room, refusing to acknowledge the concerned glance he gave you as you spoke up with a stern tone. “I’m not going to sleep with you if that’s what you’re thinking about. I just came up here to catch my breath, I just need a minute.”

“Chill out, babe. I’m not gonna touch you.” Ran laughed, holding his hands in the air as he seated himself on the carpeted floor. Your scrutinizing gaze lingered over his figure, His orchid irises skimmed over your body, curiously sizing you up before landing on your face, a mischievous grin creeped up his cheeks. “Unless you want me to.”

You clicked your tongue at his comment, narrowing your eyes at him before shaking your head at the thought. Sure, he was attractive but you would rather stick your hand in a blender than become one his new sexual adventures. “In your dreams, Haitani. God knows how high your body count is.”

He placed a hand over his heart, feigning being gravely wounded by your words. A flicker of genuine hurt washed over his eyes, quickly replaced by a mischievous one in its stead. “You’re so mean to me, Y/N. I’m just trying to be nice. Let’s get to know each other better, yeah? I promise I don’t bite, cutie.”

An hour later you discovered that Ran Haitani is actually a fun person to talk to once you get used to his childish antics, he’s easygoing, speaks his mind freely but he will push your buttons with little comments and banter here and there. He refused to leave your side despite the many times you reassured him you were okay, arguing that he would be a rude host for leaving a lady alone.

You found yourself nearing his space, scooting closer and closer to his side as the conversation picked up momentum, Ran was currently sharing stories about Rindou’s most embarrassing moments throughout the semester. Particularly the time his brother accidentally keyed the wrong car on campus. “Oh my god, no fucking way. He did not!”

“Yes, he did!” Ran cackled, holding onto his stomach as he fell back onto the ground. His deep voice was melodic, a fine tune that you wanted to hear more of as the time passed. “Our professor was so pissed, he threatened to report him to the Dean of Student Life for damage of private property unless he helped cover half of the cost.”

“You know, I may not like you but you are nice company to have around.”

“Ouch,” Ran mused, pinching your cheek in return for the brutal remark. “You may be adorable but you’re vicious, Y/N.”

You slapped his hand away, continuing the relentless teasing unaware of the predatory glance Ran kept locked on your figure. “Aw, poor thing. Did I hurt your feelings, Ran? Are you going to punish me?”

Ran pinned you onto the ground, his towering figure hovering over your powerless one. He had trapped you so easily, it would be pointless to resist or fight back. His lips tugged up into a smug little grin at the way you squirmed underneath him. “You shouldn’t play with fire, sweetheart.”

"I'm not afraid to get burned, Ran."

It was supposed to be a teasing little peck, a tiny shred of revenge for the stunt he had just pulled moments ago. However, Ran Haitani’s soft lips are a sickly sweet drug, one that you craved the taste as soon as he pressed them against yours. He pulled you onto his lap, cock growing hard at the way you rutted your hips over his thigh. He pulled away, catching his breath before lightly squeezing on your waist. “How far do you wanna go, babe?”

You gripped his hand, bringing it under your skirt to rub at your clothed slit, panties dripping with your arousal. Ran groaned at the heat radiating on his fingertips, ready to blow his load into his pants right then and there. You licked a wet stripe on the shell of his ear, hot breath tickling the sensitive skin. "Does this answer your question?"

You found yourself in the stranger's bedroom, practically having the daylights fucked out of your body. Wet kisses and high pitched moans were drowned out by the blaring music coming from the raging party downstairs. Here you are, sleeping with the one person you swore to stay away from, what a fucking hypocrite. "Take it, baby! O-Oh fuck, this pussy is so tight for me, yeah?”

Ran Haitani was definitely not splitting you open with his cock, mumbling endless praises into your delicate skin, rubbing your sensitive clit just right when you were on the edge of an earth-shaking orgasm. He was different from all of your previous hookups, the ones who simply focused getting their dicks wet and left you unsatisfied in return. Ran had made your pleasure his priority, he treated your body like fine art, appreciating every curve, every sweet cry of his name, every delicious moan that escaped your mouth. "Make me cum, Ran. M'close, please, please... ah!"

Ran had gently cleaned you up afterwards, helped you put your undergarments back on, placed sweet kisses on your blushing cheeks and softly cradled you in his arms. Exhaustion made it impossible for you to fully process what just happened, choosing to lull you into sleepy trance. You had nearly believed what had happened was a twisted dream until you woke up with both of your limbs entangled with one another.

Ran’s sleepy breaths tickled the nape of your neck as you carefully slid out of the bed, piecing together the memories from last night. “No, no, no. This cannot be happening… not with him.”

The dim light of your cellphone illuminated the corner of Ran’s bedroom. You silently raced over and retrieved the device, skimming over the notifications that appeared on the screen as the dread from last night began to sink in. You slept with Ran. You fucked Ran. You hooked up with Ran. You were in Ran's bedroom.

15 missed calls from Kana.

50 text messages from Kana.

10 missed FaceTime calls from Kana.

The soft pads of your feet echoed the room as you gathered your belongings, being careful to not wake the sleeping figure that once laid next to you. Last night was never supposed to happen, especially with someone like him, the horny bastard who slept with anything that breathed. You contemplated what excuse to give Kana for not answering last night, knowing she would demand details regarding your whereabouts.

"Leaving so soon, gorgeous?" Ran's sleepy yawn cut through your thoughts, a lazy grin occupying his face. His raging bedhead was a beautiful sight to see, his dual-colored strands framed his face perfectly, free of the iconic braids he normally sported. A pair of grey sweatpants hung dangerously low on his hips, the dark ink on his chest was on full display contrasting against his porcelain skin. “We should spend some more time together. I had fun last night.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Haitani.” you muttered. It was too early in the morning to handle his merciless teasing as the embarrassment began to pool in your gut. The lack of light in the room made it nearly impossible to find your shirt, you settled on a nearby sweatshirt that could cover your exposed chest. There was no way you would admit to someone as prideful as Ran that he was the best man you had ever laid with. “You could barely make me cum. I had to do all the work.”

“Oh?” Ran's curiosity spiked at the statement, his inflated ego bruised from your verbal assault, it would be awful of him to leave you so bothered with his actions. Honestly, he really wanted you to stay so you could both talk things out properly. “Give me another chance, see if that changes your mind.”

“No thanks,” You replied, stalking towards the door and leaving him in the dust. “I have better things to do than fucking you.”

Ran has never been left more stunned and frustrated in his entire life.

Shit, where did she go?

Ran caught glimpses of you in between lectures but you always skittered away too quickly as soon as the class ended. His legs couldn’t keep up with the sudden turns in direction you made once he caught your trail. He begged Rindou for help on searching for you to which he immediately declined, citing the previous times he was bitched at by his brother's past flings. The utter desperation on his older brother's face eventually made him cave into his wishes, knowing he could never leave him to hang dry.

“This is fuckin’ stupid,” Rindou grumbled from his location in the bushes, he had already wasted twenty minutes of his life helping Ran with this idiotic situation only to receive no results. "Have you ever thought about... Oh, I don't know. The fact that she's not into you?"

Ran shushed him, rebuking the foul idea that you didn't reciprocate his feelings. Call it a spark, or something similar, but he knew there was a hidden motive behind your avoidance. Ran knew you had enjoyed your time together as much as he did, why were you so quick to deny it?

"Quiet, Rindou. I need to see her again. I can't explain how or why but she definitely stole my heart."

"Whatever you say, bro. Better be worth it if you're chasing after her like this."

The brothers hid in the bushes for three hours, declaring defeat after university police threatened to arrest them for loitering. Rindou could have sworn he caught a passing glance of you discreetly walking out of the residence hall as they were scolded by the officials and escorted to their own building. He shot you a pissed off glare while you picked up the pace, subtly flicking him off in the distance, Ran was too busy sweet talking the officer to notice.

Ran can go to hell...

You had begun escaping the dorms at odd hours in order to avoid running into Ran, knowing he would surely come knocking on your door. You hid in the library for hours until you were sure he wasn’t lurking around campus after classes had ended. You avoided the dining hall despite how hungry you became, opting to walk to the shady convenience store nearby for some food.

It was pure agony to have one stupid decision ruin your life like this. What does he want? You have nothing to offer him.

You learned a painful lesson over the past few weeks: Ran Haitani never gives up when he finds something he wants. He learned your class schedule and waited near the doors to see if he could catch you on the way out. When you failed to appear he decided to head back, until he recognized one of the students as your roommate, who had left you for dead at the party. “Hey, you.” He called out, catching her wrist as she paced faster at the sound of his voice. “Is Y/N in your class? Was she here today?”

“She’s not feeling well,” The girl lied through her teeth, unwilling to entertain the older Haitani's antics. Ran wasn't buying it, noting the way she fidgeted under his piercing gaze. She spoke again, adding more details to her explanation. “She’s missed the last three days of class.”

Ran sighed, caving into defeat once again for another day. He would stop by your dorm again tonight to confirm if you really were sick, ready to receive radio silence from the other side of the door once more. He turned his back to her, waving as he walked away before adding, “If you see her around, let her know I need to talk to her.”

“He’s gone,” Kana whispered into the classroom, scanning the hallway once more for good measure before calling you over. Your panicked head peeked out of the side of the doorframe, “It’s okay to come out, Y/N.”

A relieved breath of air escaped your lips as you stepped out of the classroom. “Thank you, Kana. I owe you one.”

“No worries, girl.” She smiled, leaning in close to whisper in your ear. “I wouldn’t want Ran Haitani on my tail either. He’s bad news.”

The words she spoke held truth to them, but they left a bitter taste in your mouth. Sure, Ran Haitani doesn’t have the best reputation, known for owning Roppongi, carrying a menacing baton with him at all times, and being a member of the notorious S-62 Generation.

Even so, he had a gentle side he had given you a moment to relish in.

Hiding from Ran was a feat you knew you couldn't keep up forever. Unfortunately, the following day was the destined date you were meant to run into the menace. You had spotted him heading towards the same building as you, presumably for a class around the same time, before stopping in your tracks and dropping your books onto the concrete. "Oh my fucking god, not now."

The abrupt noise caught his attention as he raced over to your panicking figure. You violently picked up your textbooks and speed walked towards the steps leading to the entrance. His long hair flowed freely in the wind, reminding you of the time you woke up next to him, he must have gotten up late this morning considering the fact he only had on sweats and a loose tee shirt.

“Y/N!” Ran called out, chasing after your distant figure before completely catching up within a couple strides. He was over the moon, the subtle giddiness in his voice gave it away. “I've been looking for you. You free tomorrow—?”

“Busy,” you replied curtly, ignoring the way he instantly pouted at your words. He opened his mouth to speak again just as you ruthlessly cut him off. “I’m late for class.”

Playing hard to get? Two can play at that game.

The lecture hall’s doors opened, signaling the end of the class period. Ran was leaning against the wall, violet eyes scanning the crowd of departing students until he locked his gaze with you. He could the hear the melodic sound of your voice piercing the air as you made conversation with one of your classmates.

“The final project is worth twenty percent of our final grade? I wish we could work independently instead of having to— Hey! What’s—!? Ran, let me go!”

He tugged on your arm, dragging you through the hallway before pushing you into an empty classroom, discreetly locking the door behind him. He freed your arm from his grip as you backed several feet away, embarrassed as hell from the stunt he just pulled. You narrowed your eyes at him, displeasure evident from the way your lips pursed at his growing smirk. His intense stare reflected nothing but pure unadulterated bliss, damn maniac. “Need something, Haitani?”

“You know exactly what I need, baby.”

Instictively your mind raced to the only possible conclusion: He wanted one more chance to hook up with you. Surely that was the reason he was seeking you out so desperately. Public humiliation must be some sadistic kink of his considering how much he loved to toy with your life. The thought of it ignited a blazing fire in your bones, manifesting as pure venom in your words. “If you want some quick pussy, I’m not the only girl on campus—”

“You haven’t left my mind since the night of the party,” Ran stated, cutting you off just like you did earlier. “I miss you, baby.”

A frustrated sigh escaped your mouth, he didn’t make an ounce of sense. “For all but pure reasons, I assume?”

“Sit on the table, we need to talk.” Ran ordered, biting back a sinister smile at the way you obediently followed his instructions. “Admit it,” He demanded as he stalked towards your shorter figure, caging you in between his arms and peering down at your flustered face. “You’ve been avoiding me, huh?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you answered. The standoffish front you had so meticulously put up was beginning to crumble under his domineering aura. Ran Haitani was a notorious playboy, you knew that by heart, it would be ridiculous to believe he could actually be bothered by someone ghosting him after a quick hookup. “We hardly know each other.”

Untrue, Ran had first noticed you in a previous class of his, he nearly failed the course because he too enthralled by your beauty to focus on whatever the professor was babbling on about. He admired the way your notes were always neat, the way you always walked in with a sweet smile, the way you apologized when you ran late, the way you offered to send notes to absent classmates who needed to catch up with the material.

Unbeknownst to you, Ran had always admired you from afar, silently waiting to find the right moment to approach you. A secret crush that weighed heavy in his heart until he mustered up the courage to properly confess. Unfortunately, skirt chasing had become his rumored profession after a previous fling of his caught feelings and wanted to spite him for not reciprocating. Ran had overheard your conversation with Kana in the hallway about the party, he was secretly hurt knowing you viewed him in such a negative light.

“That’s the issue, babe.” Ran said, cupping your cheek, stroking the supple flesh with his thumb. “I wanna get to know you better, Y/N. I want you to get to know the real me, too.”

You examined his alluring features; it was second nature to be able to spot of lie from a mile away. Ran was being truthful; his orchid irises bore into your eyes with such a lustful craving that it drove you absolutely insane It was difficult to tell who had made the first move but the tension between you two boiled over in an instant. Ran’s lips trailed down your neck, teeth nipping at the skin ferociously in order to leave long lasting marks. He wanted to make sure the next person who had the chance to touch you knew you had belonged to him. “Do you want this?”

As if the incessant nodding of your head wasn’t enough to send a clear message, you crashed your lips against his again. “I need to hear you say it,” Ran said, pulling away from your needy mouth to hear some kind of verbal confirmation. “Do you want to keep going?”

“This is a one time thing,” You panted in between heated kisses, removing your shirt and bra as fast as you could. Ran’s hands roamed your body finding solace until they reached the fabric of your shorts, tugging the material and your panties down before sliding in two of his slender fingers, scissoring you open as your rich moans tumbled past your lips.

“Liar.” Ran smirked, licking his glistening fingers coated in your dripping arousal. He knew you had become putty in his hands, willing to do anything he said in order to selfishly chase after your own high. “Wanna take my time with you, but we gotta do this quick,” He said, leaning down to lap at your cunt, the sensation of his tongue invading your body made you delirious.

“Right there,” You whined, craving more of the delicious feeling, his fingers curled inside you, hitting the spongy bundle of nerves that has your vision turning white and babbling nonsense. “F-Faster, oh fuck!”

“Say this pretty pussy is mine,” Ran hummed breathlessly, detaching his hand from your twitching clit, slowing his pace enough to edge you on the brink of release. “Or I won’t let you cum.”

“You’re such an asshole,” you whined, bucking your hips up in an effort to receive some necessary friction. His fingers stilled inside you, refusing to move unless you did as you were told. The ache in between your legs begged to be taken care of, you could feel the stings of your incoming high fading away as the seconds passed. “Fine! It’s all yours, Ran! Fuck, s’all yours.”

“Good girl,” Ran muttered before diving back into your wet folds as his skilled tongue continued its assault on your aching core, coaxing you into your first orgasm of the afternoon. He eagerly drank up your sweet release, loving the way your gummy walls constricted around his mouth. His violet irises peered up at your pleasured expression, engraving the sight into his mind. “That’s right… You only cum for me, princess.”

He gave you only a minute to recover as you watched him free his thick cock from the restraints of his sweatpants, lining up with your entrance. His thick head prodded at your cunt; he slowly pressed the tip inside, stopping as soon as he saw your eyes screw shut in pleasure. Ran's hand harshly gripped at your chin, tilting it upwards to face him. “Keep your eyes on me while I fuck you properly.”

“Feels good, so good– oh god!” You gripped his toned arm, head swaying side to side as he stretched you open with his girth, bottoming out as your walls fluttered around his pulsating length. Ran kissed you with a burning passion you had never experienced before. It wasn’t needy, it was loving, sensual and sweet.

“You’re so beautiful,” He praised, setting a steady pace with each snap of his hips, watching the way your pretty tits bounced up and down as he sank his cock into your folds. Ran's self-restraint was out the window as soon as he bottomed out inside, ramming into you mercilessly as your nails dug into his back. "Gonna make a mess."

“Ran! Oh yes, Ran!”

He clamped a hand over your mouth, muffling the erotic cries of pleasure erupting from your throat. The angelic symphony of his name brought him closer and closer to his high, grunting and groaning as your gummy walls clenched around his length. Your whimpers echoed within the classroom as Ran's warning penetrated your ears. “Keep quiet, sweetheart. We don’t wanna get caught.”

Having someone walk in and find the both of you in this comprising state didn't sound half-bad, if anything it only you more insatiable. The tight coil in your gut snapped without warning, allowing you to gush all over Ran's dick as he marveled at the sight. “I’m close, darling… shit, stop squeezing like that. Need to pull out!”

Ran sprayed his cum all over your thighs and tummy, in love with the image of you marked with his seed. He reached for nearby cloth to wipe you down, muttering apologies about how he made a mess. At the moment, you were too fucked out to care about whatever the hell he was going on about. The room kept spinning in circles, the air was thick with sex and sweat, his words barely sounded coherent in your mind. “R-Ran, hang on. I... need a minute.”

You both basked in the afterglow of your highs, uneven breaths becoming stable after a couple of minutes. The light in your eyes finally returned after what seemed like an eternity, consciousness clearing enough to form proper thoughts, realization hitting that you had just fucked inside an empty classroom on campus.

“Hey there,” Ran whispered, slowly grounding you back into reality. His hands rubbed soothing circles into your twitching thighs, massaging the skin with his palms. It was a sweet gesture after he brutalized your body in a span of twenty minutes. “Are you good, sweetheart? I went rougher than I thought, sorry.”

“You did so well for me,” He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, heart leaping at the way you wrapped your arms around his neck, craving his warm embrace. Ran indulged your neediness, nuzzling his warm cheek against yours, adoring the way your chest felt pressed against his, heartbeat erratic as he calmed you down. “You’re so cute.”

“Let me help you get dressed,” He said, reaching for the stray clothing before coming in contact with a white sticky substance staining the material. It was then that he noticed it was the same cloth he had used to clean you up earlier. “Your shirt’s covered in— oh, my bad.”

“Are you serious, Ran? You’re buying me a new one.” You snapped, snatching it out of his grasp, irritated with the fact he had just ruined one of your favorite tops. “I have a sweater in my backpack, can you please get it?”

Ran recognized the oversized clothing, it was the one he had spent the past few weeks wrecking the entire house for. He had ultimately blamed Rindou for losing it despite his constant denial he always shot back regarding the godforsaken clothing. “Is this my hoodie?”

You had forgotten that you had stolen it the first time you fucked Ran. Of course, there was no way to lie out this situation without looking completely stupid. You jerked the material over the upper half of your body, ignoring the way his devilish grin grew wider by the second. “D-Don’t get the wrong idea, Haitani. I was going to return it.”

Ran shook his head in response, admiring the way it found its new proper place on your figure. He wanted to see you in more of his clothes, practically drooling at the thought of it. “Keep it, sweetheart. It suits you.”

“Your hair’s all fucked up,” You mumbled, focused on his tousled strands as a way to ignore the blazing heat rising in your cheeks. A curious hand reached out to toy with the strands around his face, it was soft to the touch, silky and smooth. “Can I braid it?”

“Go for it,” Ran grinned, eager to receive more of your attention as he pulled up a chair. The words you had muttered earlier lingered in his mind, eating away at his bleeding heart. “Did you mean what you said?” He asked as your eyes sent him a curious look, “About this being one time thing, I can respect that.”

“No,” You admitted, gently running your fingers through his hair, beginning the styling process. The bittersweet expression on his face tangled your heartstrings more than expected. Pushing him away did you no good, it only hurt both of you in the end. “I don’t know why I said that. People talk, you know? I’m scared of what rumors I’ll get roped into.”

“I like you,” Ran blurted out, slightly surprise with how quickly he was confessing despite constantly fighting back the urge. He always crumbled under your presence; it was difficult to think clearly when all he wanted was to have you at his side. “Can we try to work something out? If you want to, of course.”

“I like you too, idiot.” you laughed, securing the final braid with an elastic hair tie. You placed a fleeting peck on his cheek, avoiding the stunned expression on his face. “All done. Wanna watch a movie at my dorm?”

Ran leaned in close, an unsettling glint flickering in his captivating orbs. “One condition. Can I cuddle you?”

“Wow, you're such a softie!” You squealed, pinching his cheek as he rolled his eyes at the very true statement. Ran laced his fingers with yours, bringing them up to his lips and placing a soft kiss on your knuckles. “Just for you, sweetness.”

You slid off the table, stumbling a few feet forward as your legs attempted to stabilize themselves after being brutalized by Ran's passionate lovemaking. There was no way you would be able to walk properly without getting a few questionable stares from fellow students and staff. "This is your fault, Ran."

Ran fought back a laugh, leaning down and positioning himself to receive your body weight. "I know. Hop on my back, pretty. I can piggyback you in style."

A scarlet blush adorned your cheeks as you rejected the offer, a mix of self-consciousness nipped at your spine along with pure humiliation. "Oh hell no! You're going to break your back hauling me halfway across campus."

“How else am I going to take you to your dorm?”

"This is embarrassing..." You whispered, hiding your face in his neck as he lead you out the doors while you were perched on his body. A couple of students stopped in their tracks to get a double take of the scene in front of them, pulling their phones out to record and share amongst the others. “People are staring, Ran!”

"Relax babe." Ran smiled before sprinting across the pavement as you let out a surprised scream. His large hands kept a secure grip on your thighs, reassuring you that he wouldn’t drop you. His amused laughter rang in your ears as he ran across campus like an idiot in love. "I was born with long legs for a reason!”

The hot gossip on campus, you ask? Ran Haitani has a girlfriend.

[elvisabutler]

a love supreme seems far removed

summary: it appears old wounds between you and professor presley die hard after one particularly pleasurable but exhausting incident. fandom: elvis presley | elvis ( 2022 ) rating: m pairing: professor! elvis presley ( big daddy flavor ) x student! female reader ( nicknamed belle ) word count: 2462 warnings: big daddy elvis. elvis using a walking stick/cane. implied praise kink. student and professor relationship ( everyone is of legal age ). use of the derogatory name jezebel,in a negative way toward oneself. caning in a sexual way/sexual punishment way. negative self talk. dom/sub dynamics though not explicitly stated. near use of a safe word. sub drop. mild daddy kink? it's there, belle calls him that once or twice and elvis refers to himself as big daddy once. abandonment issues. author’s note: so this was sort of an accidental fic. once upon a time an anon came into my inbox and mentioned liking my fic about belle and professor presley with belle experiencing sub drop. i had never written that but between my right hand woman for belle and elvis @butlersxbirdy ( seriously, y'all she is the reason this entire series exists ) and my baby girl @stylespresleyhearted going "OKAY BUT CAN YOU DO IT THO I WANT IT." this fic was born. special thanks as always to my discord wives, christi and marina and for kicks also bee who i made love big daddy with these two. as always i love the love this fic series gets and truly i live for comments and questions regarding it or any of my serieses/fics. hell, the reason this series is a series is because y'all keep requesting more stuff from it. pay no mind to the moodboard as far as physicality goes or ethnicity, i just basically fell in love with her face because of daisy jones and she's got the right vibe.

It's funny, you think, how once upon a time the things you do with Elvis were things you shied away from with your other- partners if you could even call them that. There's something to be said about the sheer ease at which Elvis puts you in to make you agree to anything. You figure it's because you know he'll always take care of you. You figure it's because of how he'll stop if you cry out in more than just a pleasurable pain. No, he'll make sure you're alright, make sure his precious Belle, his angel sent from God himself is alright.

Smack.

A low keen leaves your mouth at the sting of his cane against your ass, hitting a spot still a bit tender from a week ago. Elvis had asked if you were alright with this, asked if you were ready to take this on this soon and it had been an easy question to answer. Of course you were alright because you had been the one to ask for it again. It's not that you needed it- craved it every second of the day but you knew very well you had nearly gotten yourself and him in some very hot water. It deserved more than his words of admonishment murmured against your neck and your hair. It deserved the caning that he rarely brings out but that you know tends to set you straight. Tends to keep you in line in a way you'll both never admit or question beyond these moments when he uses it. Your hand starts to move toward your ass, wanting to rub the spot that's sore before—

"Hands on the bed. Ya know better. Keep 'em where they're 'posed t'be," Elvis commands as your hands settle back against the bed. Back to where they ought to be because Elvis- Big Daddy- Professor Presley told you to keep them there.

"Elvis—" you start before another smack of the cane has your ass jiggling and has him chuckling a little as his ringed hand palms the area. You hiss.

"Ya asked for this, 'member? Told me ya needed the lesson, hm? Needed t'be 'minded that ya need t'be good, right? Keep that tongue o'yours in check. Doin' so good, Y/N. Doin' so good. What number we on?"

Your mind, fuzzy as it's becoming can focus on the number, can focus on something, settle on something that allows you to not float completely away. The grounding element of everything that keeps you tied to the Earth, tied to him and your life together. Your mouth opens and one single word falls out, "Three."

"Outta five, that's right, Belle. But ya haven't been countin' 'em out loud, have ya? Been tryin' to keep me from hearin' ya? Hearin' what my cane does to ya?" Elvis allows himself to lean against you, to press his stomach against your burning backside, his own warmth both a balm and an irritant against it. His chest hair scratches at your skin and earns a light whine as some rubs just the wrong way, the friction unwanted for now.

"Yes," you whine, arching your back as if to tease when really you only want to chase after the feel of the cane, of his body against yours in order to float and to feel safe. At your arch, he moves off of you and brings down his cane once more, this time closer to your vagina, in that dip where your thighs and butt meet. The part where his hands would grip and squeeze and slap when you rode his cock or his thighs. The number slides through your brain and into your mouth. "Four!"

You hadn't meant to shout the number but the sting overwhelmed you, the sting almost had you telling Elvis to stop, that this was too much too soon after the last week. It stopped though, the urge to tell him to set down his cane and pull you into his arms stopped. Still, even with your lack of asking, there's a pause with Elvis, a pause that has him leaning against you once more, his hand automatically starting to palm your ass. "Y'alight?"

He expects an honest answer out of you as you expect honest answers out of him when he wants to pretend his body isn't betraying him and hurting him. The bright side of when you do things like this, when you trust him to remind you to be a good girl- a good woman- you'll always tell him the truth.

A nod is what you manage before your body slumps forward just a little, the effort of holding yourself up on your hands against the bed becoming just a bit too much to handle. Elvis ought to stop right there and he knows it, can see an exhaustion settling into your body but a promise is a promise and he allows himself one final smack of the cane, lighter than all the others at the most fleshy and least bruised part of your behind.

"Five," you murmur against the sheets of the bed, your eyes a little glassy as he moves the cane to the side and tries to pull you up to a standing position. He manges it just barely but you lean against his chest, hand snaking up his chest to run your fingers through his chest hair. "Shower?"

You think it's you who asked for a shower but you're not sure, not sure with how your clit throbs and aches as it always does when Elvis does this to you, whenever you do something similar to this. Whenever he disciplines you like you deserve to be, because a simple talking to wouldn't have done, your body needed to know what was at stake. Whoever asked didn't matter as Elvis helped you walk to the bathroom anyway, his hands moving between your legs, playing with your clit, sliding his fingers between your folds gently as you rested your body against his own. It doesn't take long to finish the shower, doesn't take long for Elvis to wrap you in a towel and dry you off, only detaching himself to grab pajamas for both of you. You hadn't been this way last week but it had been earlier in the night, perhaps you were just tired from the day.

The bed sheets and Elvis provide a warmth that finally drags you into the land of sleep willingly and gladly.

It's cold.

It shouldn't be cold, you think. Elvis runs as hot as a furnace and usually makes you so hot that you have to slip from under the covers in the middle of the night. Your eyes blink to try and adjust to your surroundings and you realize it is the middle of the night. Why is it cold in the middle of the night?

Your heart lurches in your chest, moving upward to your throat as your hand moves to Elvis's side of the bed only to feel cool emptiness beside you.

Elvis isn't there. Elvis isn't beside you. You are alone in your shared bed. Was it shared any more? Was this his way of telling you to leave? After everything? Had you finally made him realize you made a mistake?

There's a sliver of your brain, of your mind that knows the thoughts that are swarming your mind are silly and yet you can't listen to that sliver. It's wrong. Elvis isn't here with you. Why hadn't he fucked you to sleep? Why hadn't you woken up with his soft cock inside of you? Had Daddy- Had Elvis taken care of you after he hit you? Where was he? Why wasn't— Why wasn't he here? He left you. He's leaving you. He's going to kick you out when the first rays of sunlight enter through the curtains.

You don't know when you start to sob, don't know when your body starts to shake, the overwhelming lack of warmth settling into your bones, don't know when your stomach threatens to empty onto the bed. All you know is that they happen all at once. All you know is that you've done something to make Elvis abandon you.

Maybe, maybe he was still in the house, maybe you didn't disgust him so much he had to leave the entire house. If you called for him maybe he'd come. Maybe you could find out— maybe you could convince him that it was fine. You were still worthy of his love.

The wail that leaves you would embarrass you in any other context. It would mortify you if your brain could process what was happening.

He hadn't quite registered that the noise he heard was you. Hadn't quite registered that the wail he heard was you. Graceland occasionally made noises that didn't make a whole lot of sense and that hadn't changed in the entire time you've been with him. It's only when he gets closer to your shared room that he hears your wail, your moan of unmitigated distress and anguish and knows it's you. He moves as fast as his body will let him and practically slams open the door, ready to use old karate moves and the gun he's got hidden in his dresser to defend you only to realize there's no one in the room but you.

There's no one in here who could hurt you and yet you're clutching at your stomach, curled in on yourself, looking as if you want to vomit all over everything. When you look up at him he sees your glassy eyes staring back at him, unshed tears in them to go with the ones streaming down your face. He opens his mouth to ask you what's wrong only to hear your whimpers and whispers to yourself.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry D- Elvis. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." It practically sounds like a mantra, a chant you'd only a monk say. It sounds wrong coming from your lips. What did you have to be sorry for? What would make you act this way? In what feels like a flash he moves to sit next to you on the bed and starts to touch you.

For once you shy away from his touch and Elvis's heart falls through his body to the ground. You never do that, even when the two of you hadn't worked through the dumbest set of issues known to man you had never shied away from his touch. Normally you would sink into it, but— what had he done to you. Had earlier been too much? Had he broken something inside you in a way he hadn't before?

"Y/N? Belle? What—" He doesn't get the question out before you whimper.

"You were gonna leave me like I did to you. I— I was alone. You hate— you don't love me anymore. Don't want to be with— you realized what everyone else does."

Tour Guide. Used. Whore. Bel— Jezebel. Not worthy of being with him or anyone else. But especially not him. Not worthy to spend the rest of your life waking up with him. Not worthy to have children with him.

Your hands tighten around your middle even more, as if that's the part of you that needs shielding the most. As if that will make the nausea you feel go away. As if it'll keep your stomach from revolting even as you feel Elvis's hand on your shoulder, tight as it was the first day he met you.

"My— Y/N. My angel from heaven. My Belle. No—" He pulls you into a hug despite your protests and your shaking head. "I couldn't sleep. I was downstairs. You—Belle. I— After everything, I would never do that to you. I could never hate you."

"You did," you whimper, your shoulders shaking even as you feel some form of warmth from him sinking through your pajamas and into your soul. "You did. You— I left you and I deserve— I don't— I made you hate me. You're gonna—"

Elvis shushes you, forcing your body against his, forcing your chest to rub against his, his chest hair brushing against the faintest bit of skin your pajamas show. "No. You're my good girl, Belle. Always have been even when I was so angry with you. I'm here. Your Big Daddy's here." He uses the nickname you had let slip that one time so long ago, knowing he finds it funny. It's supposed to put you at ease and he feels a tension in your shoulders lessen at it.

"For— You won't make me leave?" That's the question you ask, not does he still love you, because the two go hand in hand in your mind. For him to love you, he can't abandon you.

His answer should be silly, it should make you roll your eyes but something deep inside you finally uncurls when you hear him sing one of his own song lyrics acapella. "A team of wild horses couldn't tear us apart."

A sob, stronger than the rest wrenches itself from your throat, finally earning a proper release as he holds you even tighter through the tears, his hands petting your hair, murmuring soft words of comfort. You know the position has to be uncomfortable for him but he doesn't complain, too focused on making sure you're alright. Your tears and shivers finally settle into something manageable after what feels like hours and Elvis moves to lay you down on the bed, his hand still rubbing on your chest, right where your heart is. A whimper escapes your lips in fear only for him to shake his head.

"Let me get on my side of the bed. Then ya can curl up to me," he says and to show you how serious he is, he manages to clamber on top of the bed from the bottom, his hands never leaving your body, the warmth from his touch— his always burning hands allowing embers of warmth to blossom slowly but surely inside of you.

The second he's under the covers, you move to lay on top of him. He can't abandon you, can't leave you without warning if he has to move you from atop his body. Your hands haven't left your stomach as it still continues to roil and twist inside you, the nausea refusing to abate. Elvis looks at you and follows where your hands are before placing the hand that rubbing against your chest onto your stomach. For some strange reason it calms your stomach, allows for your body to settle down, and allows for you to lock your arms around Elvis's middle.

"Stay," you whisper, placing a kiss against his skin.

"Wouldn't dream of doin' anything but."

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