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hannieehaee · 4 months

Text

NO SONG WITHOUT YOU

18+ / mdi

summary: with zero experience or interest in the romantic aspect of his life, jihoon finds himself in an unexpected situation when his company decides on a collab between the two of you, not expecting the work-addicted producer to develop a bit of a crush on you.

content: idol!jihoon x idol!reader, afab reader, pining, jihoon's emotionally constipated, jihoon's pov, kinda inexperienced jihoon, smut, dry humping, oral (m receiving), penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 12.6k

a/n: this is probably my fave fic i've written so far!! love writing for jihoon aaaa anyways i hope u guys enjoy <3

masterlist

Jihoon was tired.

Beyond tired, actually. He couldn't remember the last time he'd left his studio at a reasonable time. He knew people on twitter made jokes about him being a bit of a hermit, with fans being able to spot his studio from outside the building, lights always on and indicating the producer was still inside.

He didn't have much of a valid excuse for this, other than being a 'workaholic', or at least that's the term Joshua had recently introduced him to, describing him as the prime example. Jihoon just couldn't help himself. He'd been like this ever since he could remember. If he had an idea, he had to work on it. And unfortunately for him, he was always full of new ideas. If Seventeen was releasing an album, that meant Jihoon already had enough material to fill up the next three albums backed up in a file somewhere in his computer.

Despite always having music prepared months in advance, - even having solo music up for grabs for whichever member desired it - he still found himself constantly working. It's not like anyone demanded this out of him either. It was quite the opposite, actually. From staff, to other producers, to members and even family, everyone always insisted that he took a break, maybe leave producing aside for a month or two. This was inconceivable to him, it was something that was simply out of his comfort zone.

The truth was, Jihoon felt lost. Any time he strayed away from work in some way or other, he didn't know what to do with himself. He felt like a failure in many other aspects of his life. Granted, he was a successful idol and producer, talented in every area necessary in his field, but past that, what did he really have to offer? He'd been stuck in a rut for a few years now. He had his members, his family, maybe some staff, but his social life didn't go much past that. He didn't have many hobbies outside of work either. Sure, he was avid when exercising, even being an overachiever in that area, but that was also kind of part of his job. He knew he needed to step out of his comfort zone at some point and live his life, but he kept making excuses for himself. He was 26 now, and was, quite frankly, beginning to lose hope in certain areas of his life due to his career, - although blaming his career was just an excuse, really - the romantic aspect of his life being one of them.

Jihoon had some experience, okay? It wasn't like he'd never liked a girl before. He'd had a few crushes in elementary, maybe even some up until high school. He'd kissed one of the female trainees back when Pledis was a smaller company (okay, it might've been on a dare, but to Jihoon it counted). A few years after debuting he'd even gone on a few dates with a former staff member from his company. He'd lost his virginity to that same girl, kind of rushing into it due to feeling pressured to just get it over with - something he didn't exactly regret, but wished had been more of a memorable moment. The point was, Jihoon had had a few romantic experiences in his past 26 years on this earth. But, he hadn't ever even gotten close to find that one great love he'd hoped he one day would. For someone who received constant accolades for his lyricism, he was never really able to relate to his own music. He'd never been heartbroken, never had an insane need for someone, never felt romantic love, never been in the throes of passion with a beautiful girl, even. It was all his imagination. His lyrics, that is. And maybe the rest, if he was being honest. He'd dreamt about it lately; the perfect girl who he'd find and sweep off her feet. But that was all it was, a dream.

So, Jihoon was tired. Tired of hauling himself up in his studio to make himself feel something. But that was where he now found himself; stuck and in a rut, hoping for something more.

He was once again in his studio, working on god knows what at this point. He had just finished a quick welive with carats, feeling like he'd accomplished his quota of socialization for the day (I mean, even if it was a one-way conversation, it still counted, right?) and decided to get to work on one of the many unfinished drafts in his hard drive. This was kind of routine by now. He would either get a quick meal with one of the members during their break from rehearsals, or would go back to his studio for a bit to work on music. This would've been fine and dandy if it wasn't for the fact that Jihoon would eventually have ended up right back at his stuido either way. It was the illusion of choice, truly.

He spent a few hours in there, messing around with his guitar and even working on some guides for the members to follow next time they had some time to stop by the Universe Factory. Today felt like a productive day for Jihoon. Granted, he did this literally every single day, but he hadn't felt stuck at any point today. Maybe he was on a lucky streak. He decided to cut the day short there, not wanting to ruin what had been arguably an uninterrupted day of working on music. However, his separation from his studio did not last long, as he received a call from his manager just as he was locking the door behind him. He picked up without much thought.

"What's up?"

"Hey? Jihoon-ah, are you still in the studio by any chance?", Jihoon almost vocalized his amusement at the question. Where else would he be?

"I was just locking up, but yeah, I'm here."

"Good! Stay right there! Gonna head up to talk to you for a bit," and with that he hung up, not leaving Jihoon any chance to respond.

Jihoon and his manager were quite close. This was the case with most idols and their managers, having to spend so much time together. Still, Jihoon found the interaction to be a bit odd. Usually his manager would be one of the many people to insist that Jihoon get his ass out of his studio every once in a while. He didn't mind his request, though, so he quickly reopened the door and sat himself back down on his chair, deciding to mess with a few things as he waited for his manager's arrival.

It took his manager about ten minutes to arrive, Hybe was quite a big building, after all. He knocked on his door, not knowing the access code to Jihoon's studio. The only people who knew his key code were Jihoon himself, and Soonyoung (who had learned it without Jihoon's knowledge, but he was too lazy to change it by now). He got up to open the door, simply expecting another one of his manager's short overviews of Jihoon's schedule for the week, which might've been correct, except that when he opened the door he was met with his manager accompanied by an unfamiliar face.

It was you. Jihoon didn't know exactly who you were, but you carried a familiar air to you. He hadn't really been interacting with many people as of late, so maybe you were just someone he'd seen in passing, he wasn't too sure. You and his manager walked in upon Jihoon's gesture to please come in, moving aside as to not be in your way. He closed the door behind you, accidentally closing the distance between the two of you for a second and becoming a bit flustered at the proximity. He wasn't sure why his manager would bring someone unknown into his studio, but if Jihoon was anything, he was a relaxed guy (or at least he tried to seem like it), so he just sat back down without making any questions, his manager would probably fill him in any moment now anyways.

"Okay, so this is Y/N! You've probably met before, right?"

Uh, not right. And now a little awkward. Was he supposed to lie?

"Oh! No, we haven't, actually. I know a few of his members, though, but this is our first time officially meeting," you spoke up for the first time. So you were friends with his members? That might be how he knew you. That didn't really narrow it down much, though. There were 12 of them, and Seungkwan alone was friends with practically the entire industry.

"Oh? My bad. Well, then I should introduce you, right? Jihoon, this is Y/N! Her group was just recently acquired by Hybe. They moved into the building just over a month ago, if I'm not mistaken," He turned to you as you nodded in affirmation before proceeding, "Y/N, this is Jihoon, producer and partial leader of Seventeen."

He wasn't too sure why he was introducing the two of you. If he got personally introduced to every group Hybe acquired in the past year, he'd probably be here all day. He'd stopped keeping track of who and which groups were now roaming the hallways, being too many for him to count. He wasn't complaining or anything, he was just confused as to why go out of his way.

"Woozi-nim. It's so nice to meet you! I've always been such a huge fan. Your work is .. it's insane. I've looked forward to meeting you for so long," the enthusiasm with which you said this made his lip quirk up a little. Sure, he received accolades on his work every day, but knowing that fellow juniors of his looked up to him always brought a smile to his face, although it still made him a little sheepish at receiving such a forward compliment.

"Oh, I- Thank you. And you can call me Jihoon. It's nice to meet you, too," he smiled shyly at you, not really knowing what to say past that. He felt a bit shy looking at you for some reason, as if he couldn't hold eye contact for too long or he'd burn.

He looked expectantly over at his manager, the instigator of this interaction.

"Oh! Right. Well, as I just said, Y/N's group just moved into the company. And the company's been pushing for some collaborations as of late, you know, in order to maximize all groups within Hybe all at once," Jihoon could kind of see where his manager was going with this, "So, I've brought Y/N along with me since you two will be working together for a feature."

Hold on. Rewind.

"Us? As in just us two?"

"Yeah. Hybe is dividing you guys into subdivisions. Mingyu will be collaborating with someone in BTS a few months from now, and Chan will be with Yeonjun from TXT. I think Seokmin is scheduled with a member of Lesserafim. Not too sure yet, but you're up first. I sent you an email about it a few days ago with the general idea. Did you not get it?"

Oh, right. Jihoon was always quite diligent about his work, but his work mostly entailed Seventeen only. Checking his email wasn't much of a habit of his when he could just call up the few producers that worked for Seventeen whenever he needed to. Collaborations and producer work for other people were not that common to him, so for the most part he would disregard anything that didn't entail his own group.

"Oh, I, uh. No, sorry," he felt slightly bad at having disregarded the person standing in front of him, specially when you had regarded him such such respect. He was giving off a terrible first impression.

"That's fine. Now you know. Well, just wanted to take advantage that you were here today - Hah, well, when aren't you here?", chuckled his manager before continuing, "Just wanted to introduce you just in case. Check the email I sent you when you can, I'll send you over more details of your schedule related to the feature first thing tomorrow, yeah? Y/N here is the main producer for her group too, so you'll be co-producing."

You produced? He didn't mean to sound like an asshole, but there were just so many groups who didn't make their own music. He could sometimes get a bit of an ego over knowing he was an anomaly in his industry, always having taken pivotal part in a good 90% of his group's discography. Still, he wasn't too happy about the concept of having to share the creative process with a producer he had never heard of, if he was quite honest. For the most part he would only work with Bumzu and a few other Hybe producers here and there. He didn't even know your group or the music you were credited for. Hell, he had only found out about this project two minutes ago, having had no voice in the matter. One of the down sides of joining such a huge company that fathered way too many groups at once, he guessed.

He decided to not show his slight discomfort towards the idea, simply offering a polite response before bidding his goodbyes to the two of you. You had stayed behind for a few extra seconds after his manager exited the room, once more voicing your admiration for Jihoon and letting him know you were looking forward to working together. Jihoon had to admit that your praise did something to him. He didn't mean to sound like a total loser when he said this, but he did not interact with girls too much. So receiving such direct praise on his music from a pretty girl who also happened to share a passion with him had his ears turning red. He quickly shook his head at the thought, deciding to just stay at the studio overnight once more and maybe finally go over the email his manager had sent him.

He had to admit, he was quite impressed. Shortly after your arrival he had decided to research you and your group. You were quite well known by then, having debuted the same year as Seventeen and now being one of the top girl groups in the game. Just like Jihoon, you were from a small company and had climbed your way up, eventually being acquired by Hybe just a few months prior. Your stories were quite similar, if he really thought about it. You had also taught yourself how to produce before debuting, taking on the official role of main producer upon making your debut.

He had found out an embarrassing amount of information about you very quickly. He couldn't help himself. He was immediately intrigued by you, even going as far as looking at online forums about you; places that would detail information about you that only a true fanatic would know. He was now privy to trivial information such as your birth year (one year after his), your favorite color (pink), how many moles you had (seven, total), when you joined your company (exactly two months before he joined pledis), your most popular fancam (the one were you wore that pretty purple top), and just general information he'd be embarrassed to relay he now had memorized. He could call himself a bit ... infatuated. He felt beyond creepy, despite all this being public information. He had just met you, why had he just spent the past three hours binging content about you?

Jihoon decided to shrug these thoughts away, instead opting to mentally prepare himself for tomorrow morning, which was apparently the first day in which you'd be meeting to talk over your future schedules together for the next month or so. He had finally checked the multiple emails his manager had sent him about the collaboration, realizing that he'd now have to spend most of his non-Seventeen allocated time with you.

From photoshoots for promo, to the actual producing of the song, the empty slots in his schedules seemed to have filled up on their own, now being occupied by your company, and much to his surprise, he was not annoyed at this sudden intrusion. He felt a weird feeling in his stomach, but it wasn't like the usual nerves he felt before going on an important stage, nor the grumbling he felt whenever he met an idol of his. He felt ... giddy? He was looking forward to it. He felt nervous to see you again, which was really strange considering that he felt completely normal upon meeting you just now. Yeah, you were very pretty (he had eyes, this was just a fact he couldn't deny), but he hadn't had much of a reaction to it. However, now, as he looked at pictures of you on his computer, he couldn't imagine holding eye contact again. He was going mad.

Tomorrow arrived sooner than he thought. Now he was now sitting in his studio, awaiting your arrival. He had impulsively tidied up the place, now embarrassed that you'd seen it a mess the day prior. He also tidied himself up. As he recalled, you were wearing a pretty dress yesterday, so he felt bad you'd caught him in sweats and a three-day-old shirt. He wasn't sure why he wanted to impress you, but he did. Jihoon had the hope of at least befriending you, now having formed some type of interest towards you.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door, making his heart accelerate at the thought of who was on the other side of it. Upon unlocking it, he found you on the other side, smile on your face as you carried in some bowls of .. his favorite meal? into his studio.

"Hi, Woozi-nim! I brought you food, is that's okay? I asked Seungkwan what you liked," oh, so it was Kwannie you were friends with. That made sense. It was touching that you'd gone out of your way to get him something you knew he'd like. Now he felt bad at being empty handed in his own studio.

"Oh, I- Thank you. You didn't have to do that."

"It's no problem! Wanted to thank you for doing this. I know you don't do collaborations that often. Felt kinda bad about imposing," by now the two of you had sat down in front of his desk, chairs slightly too close for comfort as you unwrapped the food in the bags you'd brought in.

"You-you're not. Sorry if I made it seem that way yesterday, hah, I was just caught off guard."

Jesus Christ, he felt so awkward. Your close proximity had him at a loss. He didn't know where to look or what to say. Your perfume was also not helping matters. The pretty scent had him extremely distracted, his mind suddenly being flooded with the thought that, shit, everything about you was pretty. What was wrong with him? Was this his first time interacting with a woman? He had never felt more out of place, except that despite any improper feelings he felt, he still wanted to be in your vicinity.

"-Woozi-nim?"

Shit, had you been talking this whole time?

"Oh, I'm sorry. What were you saying?"

You chuckled at him, clearly not taking offense to his distracted nature, "I was just asking if you had any drafts you wanted to use as a baseline? Or we could use one of my unused drafts? It's whatever you prefer, really. I'd love to work with something of yours, though. I love your style, it's so ... hah, I don't know. It's just so you."

Jihoon thanked god he had not cut his hair as some carats had begged, because now the length allowed him to cover the red of his ears. A single compliment from you had him heating up, clammy hands getting even clammier at the thought of you using his talent as a compliment. If you wanted to use his music, there was just no way for him to deny you. He wanted to hear more of your praise to him.

"Y-yeah? I have uh, a few that I could show you. They're just drafts, but you know."

You visibly perked up at this, scooting even closer to him as he began to fiddle with his computer, opening up some files to show you. Your excitement at his work had him swooning internally. The amount of interest you'd been showing since meeting yesterday was already getting the better of him.

"Woozi-nim, holy shit. These are hundreds of files. Are these all unfinished?"

"Uh, yeah. I uh, tend to have a few drafts saved for future projects."

"I get that. Me too, but these have to be over 300 unfinished songs," you were in clear shock (perhaps admiration?) of the endless tracks in front of you. Jihoon wasn't sure if he should feel ashamed at having so much unfinished work (which made bit feel like a bit of a loser), or be proud since you seemed to be impressed at the vast number.

"I like to be prepared. You know, just in case."

"It's .. wow. I knew you were good, but this is insane, Woozi-nim."

"I, you can call me Jihoon," he didn't really care much for the distinction between Woozi and Jihoon at this point; he was pretty used to both. But a part of him just wanted to hear you call him by his real name; the one only those close to him really used. He also wanted an out from the conversation, feeling too flustered at your compliments.

You chuckled, nodding at him, "Okay, Jihoon. Sorry, didn't really know what name to go for at first."

"No, it-it's fine. I'm only a year older. You can speak comfortably."

The rest of the conversation was filled with technicalities about the collaboration. Now that you two had established a, let's say, closer acquaintance, you were able to discuss your ideas more comfortably. Jihoon still had to put up with the endless compliments about his work as you two went through possible tracks for the song, but he tried his best to take them like a champ, simply chuckling shyly and shrugging them off. Your genuine admiration for his skill had him reeling inside, enamored with the tone of your voice any time you'd express excitement at hearing exclusive Universe Factory content. He hadn't felt butterflies in his stomach like this in, well, ever. He felt like he was a high school student with a silly crush.

The disappointment in his face as you parted ways must've been clear (which made him embarrassed beyond belief), as you pulled out your phone and asked him to put his contact in, letting him know you'd be seeing him soon. The possession of your contact info made him excited. He knew it was probably just for work purposes, but he held a stupid hope in the back of his head that you'd given it to him because you had interest in meeting again soon.

And you did see each other soon, consistently meeting in order to work on the song. A few of the times you were joined by Bumzu (who was also helping out with the song), or Soonyoung (who was just a nosy bastard who wouldn't leave Jihoon's studio), which made him curse out his two friends, wanting you all to himself. His crush had developed quickly after that second meeting. You were now all he thought about. Every morning when he got ready to start his day, he wondered which shirt you'd like him best in. Would you like if he trimmed his hair or did you like it long? What did you like in guys? (Except had already gone on incognito mode on his phone to search your ideal type, growing instantly embarrassed and exiting out of the tab). He thought of you as he exercised, wondering if you'd like his muscles and physique. His entire existence was surrounded by thoughts of you. And he hoped maybe he was also in your mind.

The first time he saw you outside his studio walls was at the Hybe gym as he worked out with Mingyu, Soonyoung and Joshua. He almost lost hold on the dumbbells in his hands upon spotting you, tight leggings and cropped shirt adorning your body. He had seen you in less clothing before (Only ever through a screen, in all the pretty concept photos your group had done, or in the occasional fancam he'd come across), but seeing your silhouette in the flesh had all thoughts leaving his mind. He felt ashamed at his way of thinking. He didn't want to objectify you like that, but the thoughts of your beauty had not left his mind for two weeks now, since the day he first met you.

But his eyes couldn't be helped, glued to your form as you walked into the place, paying extra attention to the parts that stood out most for him. He was like a depraved monster, his breath getting ragged as he watched you move around, licking his lips and sighing at every small movement you made. God, what was happening to him? Why was he so immediately aroused? Luckily, his thoughts were quickly interrupted by a cough from a very annoying Kim Mingyu, who had just been spotting him before his abrupt stop.

"Hyung .. You're too obvious."

"Wha-what are you talking about?", he did not like the smirk attached to Mingyu's face, nor the matching mocking smile in Soonyoung and Joshua's.

"You should see him when she's sitting in his studio. It's sad to watch," snickered the fellow 96-liner.

"Oh? She's the girl? Damn, hyung. She's really pretty."

"It's not- there's no girl. We're just working together," his feelings were already complicated enough, he didn't need the involvement of his members' teasing.

"C'mon, Hyung! It's okay if you like her. She's pretty, she's an idol-producer. She's perfect for you. I think you should go for it," encouraged Mingyu, in his optimistic Mingyu-fashion.

"Yeah, I mean. You were just about to cum in your pants at just seeing her in some leggings. I don't think you have anything to lose if you're already at the point of public indecency."

Yeah, this was exactly why he wanted to keep them as far away as possible.

"Soonyoung, I swear to g-"

"Jihoon? Oh my god, hi! I didn't realize you were here," it was you, now at a closer proximity and a slight sheen of sweat attached to your skin. Had Jihoon not been snapped out of his trance earlier, he probably would've been salivating by now.

"Oh. Hi Y/N. How are you?", he felt like he was being scrutinized for his every word and move by his members, which made him feel extremely awkward (more than usual).

"Good! I didn't know you used the company gym. I'd never seen you here before. You should've told me. We could've come together," you smiled before turning to his friends, "Hi! I'm Y/N, it's nice to meet you!"

Soonyoung made a show of stretching his hand out to you, bowing way too low for such a casual setting (probably just to peeve Jihoon). He was followed by Joshua, who held onto your hand in a way that had Jihoon fuming to himself.

"Hello, Y/N. I think we might've met before. You're Kwannie's friend, right?"

"Oh, right! Yeah, I've been to your guys' practice room before, but Jihoon didn't recognize me when we first met, so I wanted to re-introduce myself just in case," you giggled in Jihoon's direction.

"Don't mind him. That's just Jihoon. He's too distracted for his own good. I'm Kim Mingyu, by the way," the youngest shot you a flirtatious smile.

He needed all of them to keep the flirting as toned down as humanly possible. Although jealousy was not an emotion he felt often, the thought of his best friends even looking at you had his ears turning red in anger. But in very expected fashion, they all continued to take turns flirting with you for the next twenty minutes, completely shrugging off any intention of working out they might've had before having spotted you. Luckily (and surprisingly) for him, you were not reciprocating the flirting, nor where your eyes ever off of Jihoon for too long, always including him in your responses to his members one way or another.

You were somehow immune to the charms of Kwon Soonyoung, which, yeah, Jihoon didn't blame you for. You were also unaffected by Jisoo, which was a little more rare from Jihoon's experience. What shocked him most, though, was that your eyes still stayed on him even while one Kim Mingyu blatantly flirted with you. He'd known one too many girls who had fallen victim to his flirting (whether it be intentional or not), and to see you fully shrug him off in favor of looking to Jihoon instead had his heart going at an inhuman speed.

The interaction ended not too much time later, leaving Jihoon's ears red, but now from embarrassment at his friends slyly suggesting his interest at you multiple times throughout the conversation. Despite them being subtle about it, he was still mortified, specially when by the end of it, they'd pushed him to walk you back to your practice room while they wandered off on their own.

"I'm so sorry about them. They can be a bit much."

"It's fine, Jihoon. Don't worry about it. They were really fun. I can see how you're all so close."

"Ah, yeah. You know how it is .. Uh, sorry they kept hitting on you like that,"

he knew he was a bit of an idiot for bringing it up, but he wanted to gauge your feelings on it. He needed to know if he at least held a chance against his members or if you'd just been being nice by not reciprocating in front of him.

You chuckled as you responded, "I know they weren't being serious about it, Jihoon. Don't sweat it. It's not them I'm interested in anyways."

Oh, great. That was good to hear .. Wait. What?

"W-What?l"

"Oh. We're here. This is my group's practice room. Sorry I made you walk all the way here, I know your practice room is like five floors up," you apologized sheepishly, completely disregarding what you'd just said.

"I-it's fine. I'll see you on Thursday, then?"

"Thursday? We have a shoot tomorrow, Jihoon. Remember? We need a jacket shoot for the collab. It was on the schedule."

Oh, fuck. He had completely blanked on that. You guys were almost done recording the finishing touches to the song, but he forgot you guys also needed to do the shoot for the promo and learn the choreo as soon as you gave the choreographers the finalized version for the single. There was still so much to be done, which only meant even more time spent with you.

"Yeah, right. Sorry, hah, completely spaced out on that. I'll see you tomo-"

"Come pick me up?"

"Huh?"

"I mean, stop by my practice room so we can walk together? Is that okay?"

Did you- did you want to spend even more time with him? He wasn't complaining. He wanted all his time to be consumed by you, but .. was the feeling mutual?

"Yes," he paused, realizing his answer had been too short and mechanical, "I mean, yeah, sure, I don't mind. I'll see you here tomorrow morning."

You giggled at him before bidding your goodbye once more, but this time offering him a quick side hug before disappearing through the door to your practice room. Jihoon was glad you were gone, because this time it wasn't just his ears that were red, but his whole face had begun to resemble a tomato.

It was time to admit to himself that he was down bad tremendously for you.

Jihoon had not at any moment stopped to wonder what type of vibe the collaboration was meant to follow. Yeah, he was working on the song (which was almost finalized by now), so he knew it was pretty much a pop-rock-ish vibe that they were going for, but he didn't know what the rest of the equation would look like, which was something he wished he'd prepared a bit better for.

He had walked you over this morning, even being enticed by Seungkwan into bringing you your favorite drink as a nice gesture (which worked perfectly, as it won him over yet another side hug). The two of you arrived to the designated area for photoshoots located in one of the lower floors of the Hybe building, then went your separate ways to head over to hair and makeup in order to get your outfits situated. He had to admit he liked his outfit. It was a little more provocative than usual, with it being mostly black leather and the top being unbuttoned enough to show off most of his abdomen. It was your outfit, however, that had him reeling.

Nothing could have prepared him for the moment he stepped out and spotted you doing a few solo shots in preparation, your outfit and makeup already perfectly in place. He had no words to express how he felt upon seeing you. You looked so ... gorgeous. Unsure of how to react at the sight in front of him, he stood there staring, almost as if he'd seen an apparition. It wasn't until one of the photographers called him over that he managed to regain sense of self and join you.

The entirety of the photoshoot was absolute hell for Jihoon. This was the closest he'd ever been to you (sans the now two quick side hugs you'd given him in the past day). The shoot was a bit .. sensual in nature. The first set of outfits were edgier, so the shoot was the basic scenario you'd picture for a punk-rock pictorial. The second set of outfits had been the issue, because they went in the complete opposite direction. You were in a beaten down motel room setting, wearing very simple outfits, although they were both very skimpy and thin, almost as if to signify the simplicity of the concept. You two posed together on the bed, with your poses getting more and more intimate by the minute. At some point he had been directed to embrace you as he looked into your lips, with the proximity being way too close for comfort (or at least that's what he tried to tell himself). At another point he was kneeling on the bed as he looked up at you, your eyes simulating lust as you looked down on him, hand on his chin, lifting his gaze to yours.

The shoot had been an experience, to say the least. Jihoon wasn't sure how he survived it without breaking. He thanked the gods for the years of preparation with all types of shoots he'd done with the members over the years. However, completion of the shoot did not mean he was unaffected. He had no idea how he'd get the image of your lips so close to his out of his mind. Despite knowing it'd all been professional and strictly fake, he could've sworn he felt something every time your eyes would meet when at such a close distance. He wanted it to be real so badly, but once again he chalked it up to being wishful thinking. At least the worst of it was over, and he could now get back to sitting next to you in his studio at a respectable distance.

Jihoon had been an idiot to ever believe that the shoot had been the worst of it.

It had now been a week since the dreaded photoshoot (The one that had him up at night imagining what it would've been like if he had just closed the gap between your lips, damning anyone else in the room), and now it had been a few days since the song had finally been completed. He had thoroughly enjoyed co-producing with you, geeking at your ability to compliment each other perfectly. Your voice was yet another thing he had fallen in love with during the process, fully enamored by every single take you did. It had actually slowed down the process, as Jihoon green-lit every single one of your takes due to the rose-colored glasses that prevented him from catching mistakes you swore you'd committed during a few of the takes. You seemed to be similar, however, as you continued to shower him in compliments (even at the shoot, where you had complimented him with his hard work at the gym - a moment he chose to disregard or else he would've lost his mind at the implications), refusing to admit any faults of his while recording.

Now, however, he found himself in very difficult and unchartered waters. Any other time in which he'd produced a song, he'd never been involved further than that. He'd done duo shoots before, with women at that, but what he'd never done was share a choreography with someone who wasn't a member of Seventeen. He had danced with women before, of course, even having participated in more sensual dances, but this felt different. All previous times had been with nameless backup dancers he had never known too well. This was you. He now had to work through an entire choreo with you as the two of you danced around each other (physically and figuratively, he believed).

Most of the song involved a very casual choreo, as the two of you danced mostly separately but complimented one another. The kicker was the bridge of the song, where the melody mellowed out a bit and allowed for a quick dance break of sorts. It was very sensual in nature, and required you and Jihoon to tangle against each other as you used the other's body to complete the dance. Going over it had been full of shy smiles and eyes that couldn't seem to meet. It almost made him believe that you'd felt just as flustered as he did. When you actually began to dance over that part, however, you left Jihoon's mouth watering at how easy it was for you to meld your body to his; how you would guide his shy hands to place them in all the correct places. The feeling of your body against his was new and unfamiliar, but it felt so right to him. He wanted nothing more than to leave his mark on your skin, signaling that he was the only one meant to touch there. He was truly going mad.

It had now been about two months since Jihoon had first met you. The song hadn't been released yet, but most preparations for it had been done. All that was left was a quick music video shoot plus a few music show appearances that would come after the actual release of the song. Thus far, the song had been announced, with a pending release date of a month from now. Jihoon had enjoyed public reaction to the unexpected collab, with people even going as far as calling you a dynamic duo due to your respective reputations as the main producers of your groups.

You seemed to also enjoy knowing the news had finally broken to the public, even going as far as mentioning Jihoon in some of your lives. He specifically recalled a moment he'd seen as he watched it live, one that had him blushing and kicking his feet. You'd been asked about what it was like working with Jihoon, to which you responded with a whole paragraph of compliments directed at his work ethic, along with a short quip about how cute you found Jihoon to be, deeming it 'difficult to focus with him around.' He felt like he was on cloud nine at the comment, despite how lightheartedly you had delivered it.

After that (and a few more instances of you shooting compliments his way), he had decided he wanted to see you outside of a work-related schedule. He had begun making excuses to find himself on your group's floor, going as far as using Seungkwan and Soonyoung (who you'd unfortunately befriended due to his constant unwanted presence as you two worked on your song) as pawns in order to not be as obvious whenever he went to see you. Despite your usually outgoing demeanor, you seemed a bit more reserved whenever it was only you and Jihoon. He wondered if it was because of his quiet demeanor, or because you might've maybe returned his feelings and felt too shy to be too expressive around your crush - he knew damn well that was his case, at least.

Today the two of you were working out together at the gym - a huge feat for Jihoon, who could not help but ogle at you whenever you weren't paying attention - with him playing the role of your spotter. He had extensive knowledge of weightlifting, which he had been proud to impress you with. Right now, you were working on your arms, which required Jihoon at a close proximity in order to make sure you didn't get hurt. He enjoyed this way more than he could admit to anyone or himself.

"Is this okay? Is this the right position to do it?", you questioned as you made eye contact with him through the mirror. Your arms were lifted above your shoulders, with dumbbells on each of them as you attempted to lift them both at once.

"Yeah. That's perfect. Is it too heavy? Do you need to stop?"

"No, I'm fine, Ji, I promise. Just stand a little closer, yeah? I don't wanna drop them. And put your arms under mine?", he followed your instructions, now towering over you from behind as you sat in front of him.

The two of you had grown more comfortable in the past two weeks or so, seeing each other almost every day while outside of official schedules. He'd learned that, unlike him, you didn't have any issues with personal space, often allowing him to stand too close for comfort. He couldn't complain, though, as he was always too hypnotized by the proximity.

"Shit!", you yelped, almost dropping the dumbbell before Jihoon managed to intercept it. You had begun to do a set before the one minute mark passed, deeming you too weak to lift the dumbbell all the way up. Luckily, you had instructed Jihoon to stand close to you in order to prevent any actual damage.

"Are you okay?", he asked as he placed the dumbbells on the ground, rounding the seat in order to stand in front of your sitting form.

It was mind-numbing, really. The angle in which he was looking down at you, with your pretty eyes looking back at him with a semi-worried expression on your face at the shock of almost dropping such a heavy weight on yourself. The incident left his mind immediately at the sight of you, a layer of sweat covering your skin as you panted while looking up at him. He pulled you up by your arms, helping you stand in front of him. In very cliche fashion, you tripped a bit, almost landing on him before he caught you by your forearms. The classic 'falling-atop-your-crush' trope did not happen, but he still ended up at even a closer proximity to you. Just when he had finally begun to forget the sight of your lips right in front of his from back when you did the jacket shoot together.

He did not move back, and neither did you, allowing the small distance between you to fog both of your minds.

"T-thanks, Hoonie. Could've really hurt myself," this was the first time he'd ever heard a stutter out of you, with your eyes not looking into his as they usually did. Your closeness still not diminishing even when the danger of the situation had already dissipated.

"'Course. Uh, I .. Maybe we should go back to a lighter weight?"

It took you a moment to respond, eventually choosing to look back at him with your pretty eyes, a seemingly empty head to match. He liked the look on you. He could've sworn he saw your eyes lower to his lips, but his mind was too clouded to confirm.

"Uh, actually, I think im done for the day. Is that okay? I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

"Oh, right. Yeah. I'll meet you in front of your practice room?", he was confused at your sudden departure, dreading the separation, but he figured one of you would have to break the spell eventually.

"Yeah. See you there, Hoonie. I'll text you later, okay?", you gave him a quick peck on his cheek before turning to the exit, leaving behind a beet-red Jihoon as he tried to get his heartbeat to slow to a healthy rhythm.

He was left standing there, in the cold and empty company gym as he pondered as to whether or not his feelings may be mutual.

The next day the two of you met again, no mention of yesterday at all. What would there be to mention anyways? That you two stood close to each other? Jihoon felt like such a loser even having considered it anything. He was just inexperienced at this, and very much touch starved, so any small suggestive interaction had him overthinking. Like right now, as you hooked your arm on his to walk along the Hybe building together, not a care in the world about anyone who would see you.

"Did you see the outline for the music video?", you spoke up once the two of you had reached the cafeteria, picking a secluded table to sit at - not that many people wandered there anyway.

"Hmm. No, what is it?", he still hadn't managed to beat the habit of not checking his emails.

You giggled, seeming a little flustered, "Uh, we're playing a couple. Very Bonnie and Clyde but with a grudge twist. Seems pretty cool, actually."

"Oh. We-we're playing a couple?"

"Yeah. I think we can pull it off. You did really good at the shoot. Did you see the finished product? Okay, never mind. I know you didn't. They look really good, though. We look very convincing."

He knew you didn't mean anything by it, but you constantly had him wondering. If you liked him you wouldn't be this direct, right? This must've all been very lighthearted to you. Sure, you were friends, but that's where it all ended for you. Jihoon was the complete opposite. Every single interaction you had had him falling deeper and deeper into a hole of infatuation for you. There was nothing about you he wasn't obsessed with. It had begun to manifest in all areas of his life, even his work. He had never had more unfinished love songs in his hard drive.

Unbeknownst to you, he had purposely avoided taking a look at those pictures, knowing his mind would go blank at the image of you looking at him with those lustful eyes from a third-person perspective. Living through it already had him in agony night after night as he thought of nothing but you.

"Y-yeah. I saw them," he lied, "You did amazing."

"Really?", you were always giddy at his compliments (which didn't come often due to his shy demeanor towards you), "I've never done a more provocative concept like this before. It's fun. It suits you a lot, Jihoon. I'm glad I got to do it with you of all people."

And you had no idea how glad he was too.

Shooting the music video had somehow been even more agonizing than the photoshoot. It was two grueling days of constant time spent together. He loved your company, but the stylists kept insisting on dressing you in the most provocative outfits imaginable to man. He couldn't think while he looked at you. You were like a siren. Even the strongest of men wouldn't be able to resist you.

The worst of it came in the form of the director instructing you two to act like two lovers against the world. Word for word. It wasn't difficult for Jihoon to pretend he was enamored by you, but he was truly at a loss of words over how well you also played your role. By now he had become numb to your touch, having run through the choreography with you multiple times by now, and with you having become increasingly touchier through the time you'd known each other.

He thanked god under his breath as soon as the two days came to a close, knowing that now he could at least keep his feelings under wraps for a while. It was now about two weeks until the release of the song. According to the schedule, all that was left was one pre-recorded Studio Choom performance, two comeback shows after the release of the song, and two variety show appearances together. It was all pretty straightforward from now on. There was no way Jihoon wouldn't be able to put up with what was left. He had this in the bag.

The worst thing imaginable happened after that. Jihoon had not planned for this, nor had you, apparently.

It was very sudden and came completely out of left field. It pertained to you, but had affected Jihoon more than anyone involved.

Dispatch had released an article just a week before the official release of the song. Promotions had only begun, but had been slightly disrupted by this sudden interruption.

The article featured you, and an unknown man. They were clearly pictures taken off-guard, from a distance. You were in front of some building, ignorant to any cameras nearby. You were too close for Jihoon's comfort. He knew there was some type of relationship there. The caption to the picture didn't help matters either. Something about an estranged lover you'd been keeping secret from the media. There were too many pictures for Jihoon to process. In some you were embracing, while in others you were sharing a low-quality peck from what he could tell.

Seeing that article had been an absolute punch in the gut. There was no argument against it. There was clearly something between you and that guy. He was standing too close to you, even holding onto you in most of the pictures. You could barely tell it was you, but to Jihoon it was obvious. He had never felt heartbreak like this before. The two of you had never dated or even insinuated actual interest in the other, but it still felt like betrayal to him, as irrational as that thought was. It was all his fault, really. Had he told you about his feelings, maybe things would've been different.

Jihoon felt like an idiot. Of course this had all been just a business transaction to you. You were assigned to work with him, just as he was you. Even if he had led himself to believe that the feelings might've somehow been mutual, it had all just been in his head. What would you see in him anyways? Yeah, sure, you had a few things in common, but who in their right mind would ever want to be with the empty-hearted producer who cared for nothing but work. Hell, the day he met you was yet another day in which he had been willingly locked in his studio all day. That was what you would've been signing up for, had you looked his way. He didn't wish such a loveless relationship to anyone. He knew by now that he did- he did love you, but he knew he was probably unable to love you in the way you deserved. He was incapable of that. At 26, he'd had no experience with love. Why would someone as beautiful and amazing as you want to be with someone like him?

He was in love with you. That was something he could now full-heartedly admit to himself. Within these two months he had fallen deeply in love with you. Nothing could change that by now, not even knowing that you were already taken. He couldn't help himself in locking himself in his house after that, ignoring and all messages from both you and his manager regarding the few rehearsals he had skipped over.

Hybe did their damage control, making the situation go away as soon as it arose, but to Jihoon the damage had been done. He felt like an irrational idiot being hurt by this, but he needed to be away from you for a few days. You hadn't done anything to him, but he couldn't see you right now without feeling pain. He was punishing you with no proper justification, but his feelings were too strong for him to put up with.

A little over an entire day went on like this, with no communication from Jihoon to anyone. He was surprised no one had come looking for him until now, the moment in which bangs against his front door could be heard all the way from his room. Whoever was looking for him had made liberal use of the doorbell too, not giving him a single break from its constant ringing as he tried to ignore it. He finally grew too tired of it, deciding to give up his moping and going downstairs to beg that person to leave him alone to his misery. He still needed a few days before he could go face his reality. He couldn't face you just yet.

Except the choice had been made for him. His first mistake had been not checking the doorbell camera, which would've made him privy on who exactly was knocking on his door. He felt bad at thinking this, but had he known it was you, he never would've opened it.

He was beyond embarrassed at his appearance, once more wearing a three-day-old shirt and his cheeks damp with the tears he hadn't yet wiped away. You, on the other hand, looked as beautiful as ever. You carried a worried look on your face, lips pouty and eyebrows furrowed as you looked at him. He was not given time to welcome you in before you barged in for yourself, launching yourself at him in a tight hug before he could say anything. He wasn't an idiot, and he was too weak for his liking, so he held you back just as tight, enjoying a good three or so minutes of silence as you held each other.

You pulled away too soon for his liking, unhooking your face from the crook of his neck as you spoke up, still holding onto him, "Jihoon ... I'm so sorry. It's- it's not what you think, I swear. Please believe me."

He wasn't sure why you were so apologetic. You didn't owe him anything. He felt like even more of a loser at making you feel like you had to apologize for having a boyfriend. He knew that by now there was no way you didn't know about his crush on you, which made him feel even more humiliated at the situation. He separated himself from you for the first time ever, creating some distance as he refused to look at you. He took this chance to close the door he had left open when you had attacked him with your embrace.

"You don't have to ..."

"No, Jihoon. Listen to me. Please."

Your eyes were glossy now, and Jihoon felt bad at causing you any distress, so he signaled at you to continue.

"It's not- it isn't what you think. Yeah, I ... I did have a ... a thing with that guy. I know Hybe denied it being me, but you know- you know it's me. But it's not how it looks!"

"Then ... what is it?", he couldn't believe he was even letting himself ask that question, as if you had to explain yourself to him. But part of him really wanted to know. He wanted to somehow hear you say that it wasn't true, that you would never look at anyone but him.

"It's an old picture. He- he used to work for our group, as staff. We had a thing. It ended badly. Haven't really dated since then. This was before I met you, Jihoon, please, I need you to know that."

"You .. Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you need me to know that?", he hoped against all hope that you'd answer with what he'd been wanting to hear since he met you, but he knew he was playing with the devil when asking you that. He knew there was a very logical chance that you'd just confirm your platonic feelings for him, or straight up reject him.

"You know, Jihoon. I know you know. I- I'd never do that to you. I'd never look at anyone but you."

"Do you-"

"Yes', you paused, 'I like you, Jihoon."

And then his heart stopped beating.

"So much. Since we met. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since the day we met. I like you so fucking much. I can't think of anything else. I thought it was just because I've always been a fan of yours, but ... being around you just made me feel so happy. I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier. Fuck, I'm sorry I made you feel like there was someone else in the picture."

He didn't know what to say. You'd said everything he had wanted to hear for the past two months. You liked him. It wasn't one-sided. There was nothing stopping him from making you his now. Those feelings he thought had been fake for the portrayal of your song's concept had been genuine all along. He'd never felt such relief.

"Jihoon? Is it not ...? Fuck. Did I misread everything? Shit, I'm sorry. I should, uh, I should go-"

Fuck. No! He needed to reciprocate, he just had no idea how. He couldn't have you thinking he wasn't equally (if not more) obsessed with you. So he did the one thing he could think of in that moment. Something he had imagined time and time again, but never had the courage to do.

You yelped against him as he pulled his lips to yours, but immediately began kissing him back. There was nothing tender about the kiss as Jihoon would've expected. It was a complete mess from the start. The kiss was a testament to how badly you'd both wanted each other this whole time.

Jihoon felt lightheaded at the feeling of your tongue sneaking its way into his mouth, and the moans that accompanied it. He couldn't help but feel immediate arousal at your touch. He wasn't sure how to kiss you. He'd never shared such a passionate exchange before, but he wanted to give you everything in him with his kiss.

You only pulled away when you were out of breath, still keeping yourself as close to him as possible as you breathed into each other's mouths, your lips lightly closing over his as you regained your breath.

"Hoonie ..." the sound of your breathless voice muttering his name did shameful things to him. There was no way he could handle a conversation right now.

"Tell me- tell me you like me. I need to know. Please ..." the sheer lust and desperation in your voice were things that would never leave Jihoon's mind.

"So much. I li- I love you. You have no idea. Every day was agony not acting on it. I'm sorry if it's too much, but it's true. I've never felt this way before. I'm in love with you. The thought of you with someone else made me wanna give everything up. It's ... God, I just love you."

You didn't seem to need any more words before closing the gap again, this time backing him up against the nearest wall as you kissed him with all your might. You took full control of the kiss, grabbing his cheeks and angling him so you could play with his lips as you saw fit. He moaned and writhed against you, shyly attempting to hold onto your waist but not actually daring to. You must've caught wind of his intentions, grabbing onto his hands and forcing them on your waist, pressing your chest up against his. He began to caress your waist, falling in love with the slope of your back in the process. He was still shy with his movements, but his lips were nothing but. He adored your soft sighs against his lips any time his tongue would suckle on yours, or any time his teeth nibbled on your bottom lip.

You must've eventually grown tired of his shy demeanor, grabbing onto his arms and pining them above his head, beginning to softly grind against him as you began to lick and suck at his neck. Jihoon was on cloud nine. His body was unsure of how to react to such pleasure from someone he had already grown so addicted to.

"Hoonie ... want you so bad ... please," his knees buckled at your begging, your warm breath hitting against his ear as he groaned out at the thought of you in his bed.

He was simply a shell of himself at that point, so it had been your responsibility to drag the both of you in the direction he pointed his bedroom was at, but as soon as you were there, you pushed him to lay on the bed. He was ready for whatever you were willing to give him. He had no chance against you anyway.

"Hoonie, shit. Been wanting you for so long. Can I, please?", you'd begun to straddle him, leaning over him as you ghosted over his lips. He swore he wasn't going to make it, body heating up at the mere suggestion of you touching him.

"P-please ..."

You began kissing him again, running your hands up and down his torso, eventually landing on his crotch, softly caressing it as he whined into your mouth.

"Oh? Jihoonie ... You're so hard. Want me to help you?"

"Fuck ... Need you so bad, please ..."

"But we haven't even started to have fun," you moved your hand away, now sitting up a bit to begin grinding against his crotch, deep movements making his eyes roll back as his arms laid limp on his sides.

"Won't you touch me, Hoonie? Don't be shy. You already know how much I want you," you guided his hands to your hips, making him clamp his fingers on the clothed flesh while you moaned out at the feeling of his hard cock gracing your most delicate parts.

You were both beginning to heat up, which led you to throw your shirt off, now only in a bra and some sweats. He audibly moaned at the view, only causing you to play it up for him as you caressed your own covered breasts, "Want me to take my bra off, baby? Hmm?"

"Y-yes. Wanna see you so bad. You're so beautiful."

That was enough for you to wiggle your way out of your pants, throwing off your bra right after. The sight had his cock squirming under you. No amount of lonely nights thinking about you could have ever prepared him for the sight before him. Your soft skin shining under the soft light of the half drawn blinds. He wanted to memorize your body, leave his mark on every inch of it, but his arms would not move from your hips. He knew that the moment he got his hands on you he would finally face insanity. There was not a single detail he wasn't already obsessed with. He wanted you so badly, but he didn't know what to do with himself. His cock was extremely swollen under his sweats, begging to find comfort in any crevice of your body you would allow. The fleeting thought of fucking your pretty tits flew through his mind, making him shudder as he continued to pant at the beautiful girl sitting on him.

"Touch me?", you asked, already guiding his hands to your breasts, making him sit up to be face to face with you.

"Holy fuck ..." he moaned at the warmth of your breasts in his hands. He couldn't help himself in getting his fill of you, hands squeezing and running all over your chest. The moment he dared to pinch at your nipples he truly saw heaven, hearing you whine his name in the prettiest sound he'd ever heard.

"Hoo-Hoonie ... Please. Touch me more. Just like that," you let your head fall back, sighing at the soft touch of his fingers pinching at your nipples, "Your mouth, Hoonie ..."

That was all he needed to lower his head and begin licking at your nipples, biting lightly as he pulled at them, dick twitching desperately at the pretty sounds leaving your lips. He could've sworn he'd cum just from how beautiful you sounded. His ears were ringing by now, only able to process the feeling of your hand pressing his face against your chest and your hips suddenly restarting their movements against his own.

You let him make out with your tits for a bit before pulling him off, much to his dismay. You giggled at his reaction, but began to pout at him to get him to remove his top.

"Shit. God, Hoonie, you're so gorgeous," you breathed out upon seeing his bare chest, running your hands up and down the blank canvas. You let your own fingers pull and pinch at his nipples a bit, slow in your movements as he whined at you. He understood now, how fucking good such a light touch in such a sensitive area felt. He was beginning to lose all air in his brain, mind foggy as you gave him all types of pleasure.

He needed you now. Needed attention in his nether area so bad. He could feel how wet you were through his sweats, softly begging you to please let him have you. The whisper against your ear had you pulling your hands away from his chest, separating yourself enough to look into his eyes.

"Want you too. Can I have it, Hoonie? Fuck ... Will you judge me if I beg? I just ... Want you in my mouth so bad, Hoonie, please."

He felt embarrassed by his reaction, but he couldn't help but moan loudly at that simple sentence, nodding like crazy at the proposition. The last time he'd been in someone's mouth had been years ago. He had felt intimate touch before, but only a handful of times total. He was fully unprepared for what your mouth encompassing him would feel like.

Before he knew it, you had thrown off both his pants and boxers, enticing him to sit at the edge of the bed as you knelt in front of him. You were looking at his cock as if it were your last meal, eyes crossed and a moan leaving your mouth at the sight. He couldn't believe a gorgeous thing like yourself would ever show so much thirst for him. His soul left his body the moment you lowered your tongue onto his tip, kitten-licking at it as you looked up into his eyes. What truly made him lose his mind, however, was the moment you began to bob your head up and down his cock, with your hands playing and scratching at his balls. His hands clutched at the sheets, unable to hold himself in a sat up position due to the unimaginable pleasure. He was unsure how he didn't cum the moment you put your mouth on him (or the moment you kissed him, if he was being honest).

"So- fuck ... So fucking good. You're perfect. Please ..." he wasn't sure what he was begging for. The pleasure was clouding his mind. And then you did something that had him gasping for air. You unglued your mouth from gagging on his cock in favor of licking and sucking at his balls. His eyes rolled all the way back into his brain, back arching against the bed as you took turns licking his balls and worshiping his cock.

Unsurprisingly, he came in your mouth moments later, almost blacking out at the feeling. He was unable to catch his breath for a good minute, all the while you swallowed his seed and sat back on him. Before he was able to resume his breathing, you had already shoved your tongue back in his mouth, making him whine at the mixture of your saliva and his cum twirling in your tongue. He couldn't help his hands running all over your body, hugging and squeezing at every curve he could reach.

"Baby, I-"

"Taste so good, Hoonie, fuck. You have no idea how much I thought about that. Every time you wore those tiny little shorts to dance practice all I wanted to do was kick everyone out and beg you to fuck my mouth."

Jesus Christ. He hated how outspoken you were sometimes. He felt himself begin to harden again at just the simple thought of you wanting him as much as he did you (even though he was 99% sure that was impossible). He felt bad, but he was a bit sad he had cum in your mouth. He had thought of the feeling of your cunt wrapping around him almost every night for the past month. He knew he'd get it sooner or later, but a sinister part of his brain was begging him to flip you around and go to town on you. He might've been inexperienced, but he knew that his body would take him there if he needed it.

"W-wanna ..."

"Hmm? Yeah, baby?", you softly caressed his cheek, looking at him with so much love in your eyes.

"Please ..." he couldn't bring himself to say it. He felt too ashamed at asking for even more out of you when he'd already made you do all the work to confess and even made him have the best orgasm of his life.

"Yeah, Hoonie? Want me? Want you too. You have no idea ..." he thanked god the moment you started grinding against his bare dick yet again, leaning down to lick at his lips, "Can I ride you, baby? Please ... Been dreaming about it."

All he could do was whine and nod as his hands squeezed at your ass, trying to entice you into lifting your hips so you could finally sit on his now hardened dick.

No words left his mouth as you finally lowered on him, all his focus on the pretty expression on your face as you moaned out at the feeling of being impaled by him. His back arched, head digging back into the mattress at the feeling of your cunt tightening around him. He felt your back arch too as you leaned down to kiss him, mouths open as you whined and mewled at each other.

You began humping him with no proper rhythm, causing him to thrust upwards to meet your own grinds. He was so desperate for you. Nothing compared to how good he felt in that moment. Your body was drawing all types of pleasure out of him.

"F-feel so good. Hoonie ... You're so- Ah! So fucking good for me."

"Me? You ... Shit. Never felt this good. You're perfect," you tightened at his words, making him plant his feet on the bed and begin to frantically fuck upwards, leading you to scream and whine his name for all his neighbors to hear.

"Love you so much- Fuck! Been wanting you forever. Didn't know how hard I'd fall for you that day, shit. You're everything to me," he couldn't help himself in rambling yet another confession in your ear as you attempted to match the animalistic pace of his thrusts.

"Love you too, Hoonie. You have n-no idea. Never letting you go. You- you're mine now," and yours he wanted to be forever.

Jihoon had never imagined he'd feel love like this as long as he was alive. He had lost hope in finding the perfect girl many years ago, assuming his lifestyle to be too difficult for him to find someone to love him so strongly, but now he had you. Now he had you in his arms as you professed your love for one another. He had never felt such happiness. His ability to think left him soon after, however, as you clamped down on him with yet another scream of his name as you found your end, taking him with you in his own.

After the two minutes or so that it took you to regain your breaths, you managed to cuddle up against each other, unable to stop caressing each other in one way or another. The smiles wouldn't leave your faces. Jihoon couldn't help but think of his life; how he had everything a man could ever want, and now he had you on top of all that, and you'd quickly become his favorite thing. You spent the rest of the day in his bed, making love and waxing poetic at one another. You completely disregarded any collab preparations for the day, opting instead to finally give into each other to the fullest extent.

Soon after, all promotions finally ended. You and Jihoon received equal accolades on your ability to mix both your styles, achieving a successful collaboration between two monster producers. The praise over being all rounders was also endless, as people commended you both for the production, vocals, dance, visuals and chemistry demonstrated all throughout the promotional period.

People noticed how comfortable you were around each other, despite having never publicly interacted before the release date of the single. People believed it was simply amazing work ethic being showcased by the two of you, but what didn't meet the public eye was the genuine love and enjoyment behind every interaction. The two of you had made it a point to begin appearing publicly together often from then on (strictly as friends to anyone who asked, of course), which allowed you to hide your relationship in plain sight.

Jihoon had never been happier, now having you as yet another companion to visit him at his Universe Factory any time he would lock himself in there to work, a habit that began to diminish as he grew more and more addicted to your company outside the confinement of those four walls.

Today was yet another one of those occasions, as you were sharing yet another meal together at the Hybe cafeteria. Staff was mostly unaware of the nature of your relationship, but you two liked it that way.

"Hey," you called out to him as you played around with his phone.

"Hmm?"

"Did you see this email from Bumzu?", he shook his head in denial, "He said Hybe's requesting your help producing for Gyu's collab with Jungkook. Cause of how well ours did."

"Yeah?", he chuckled, "Gonna have to talk to him. Not doing it without you."

"Oh, really?", you grinned at him, "Wanna team up again?", you leaned closer to him, but not too close to draw suspicion from the few other idols and staff around who were eating there.

"Mhm. You did most of the work. Couldn't've done it without you."

He knew that to be completely true, as he would've remained in his slump had you not come out of left field to make his life do a 180.

"Wanna team up with you for the rest of my life."

You smiled at him. He could see in your eyes you wanted to show some sort of affection towards him, but could not due to the public setting. All it took was one look between you for him to know you felt the same. You held his hand under the table, going back to conversation about your next possible collaboration together with your other labelmates, happy to have found a soulmate in one another.

a/n: idk how other writers are putting out 20k+ words monsters jesus christ. anyways i rlly hope u enjoyed <33 this concept had been plaguing my mind for a while so im rlly happy to have finally finished it!!

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 2 months

Text

It's a Match! || 141 x Reader

[ Chapter 10 ] || [ Chapter 12 ]

Pairing: 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.1K~ Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: i'm in love with gaz

Chapter 11: Excuse me?

A DM suddenly shoots up to the top of the pile in Kyle’s Tinder DM list and his eyebrows raise when he sees your name.

It’s been a month and a half, maybe longer, since you two last matched and after the brief rejection and you having gotten with Price, his life moved on and he kind of forgot you existed.

But your sudden message whose preview starts with “hey sorry to be botheri-” intrigues him so he presses it.

you: hey sorry to be bothering u but i figured it was safe to dm u about this because between u and johnny u seemed to be the most mature one! is simon okay? he stopped replying to me like a week ago and im concerned

Kyle’s eyebrows shot up on his forehead upon reading the question.

Kyle: he’s been texting u? 🤨 you: HI! yeah he has Kyle: excuse me? 🤨🤨 Kyle: like texting texting u. Kyle: as in you text him and he answers and u 2 chat? 😐 you: yes? 🙃 Kyle: tf kind of witchcraft did u pull on him? 🤨 Kyle: he doesnt text. Kyle: not one of us can get more than a thumbs up reaction to our texts in the groupchat. 😑 you: he texts me! Kyle: 😫?? Kyle: jesus christ. you: you didnt answer is he okay?? 😭😭

Kyle thought back on a reason why Ghost would suddenly, well, ghost you. But he can’t think of any… Ghost is a notoriously bad texter, it doesn’t surprise him that he went MIA…

And then it hits him.

It’s 8 A.M. in the rec room of their floor and Ghost was making tea just as Johnny was taking a seat in the couch.

Kyle oofed as Johnny hit him, throwing his legs over Kyle’s lap. “Watch it mate, fuck you’re bloody heavy!” He complained.

“AH, FUCKIN’ HELL!” Ghost cursed as he threw his hands up in the air the sound of water dripping on the floor catching his attention.

Kyle looked over to see Ghost had spilled his boiling hot water everywhere on the counter.

“You alright L.T.?” Soap asked a she lifted his head over the back of the couch to peer at Simon just like Gaz was.

“Great.” Ghost grunted as he picked up his phone from the counter, which was also dripping in water, while his other hand threw a rag onto the mess of water dripping down from the counter.

“Oh fuck… ‘s your phone dead?” Soap asked and Ghost grumbled under his breath, not quite answering the question, as he busied himself soaking up the spilled water.

Just then, Price showed up at the rec room door. “Simon, gear up. Got a briefing for a solo mission in 10.”

“Fuckin’ hell, yeah, yeah, I got it.” Ghost grunted as he cleaned the mess and then rushed out the door, leaving his mug of tea in the counter and clutching his now broken phone in his hands.

Kyle: hes fine. Kyle: he spilled water on his phone and killed it I think. Kyle: and he got sent out before he could get it fixed. 🙃 you: oh okay good! you: thanks! you: sorry to have bothered you! 🙏 Kyle: now wait just a minute. 😤 Kyle: u need to explain how in the hell u and ghost talk.👀 you: ghost? Kyle: that’s his work name. 🤷‍♂️ you: fitting seeing as i thought he ghosted me Kyle: THAT’S THE JOKE I MADE JUST NOW TO MYSELF! 😭 you: were in sync it seems 😭 Kyle: answer the question tho. you: idk what u want me to answer with Kyle: wdym u dont know??? explain yourself. Kyle: how do you get ghost to text u???? you: idk? im funny ig Kyle: 😑 you: im sorry if thats not what u want to hear Kyle: wait Kyle: a couple weeks ago he was out all night Kyle: during morning training soap was talking about how he had a date Kyle: was he with u? 👀👀 you: soap? Kyle: johnny. Kyle: keep up cmon now. you: jeez don’t patronize me you: yes simon was with me Kyle: 👀👀👀 Kyle: i see. Kyle: tell me more. you: theres nothing to tell Kyle: thats a lie and u know it. you: its not!!! Kyle: cmon. Kyle: u cant just meet with a bloke with a skull mask on and then say u dont have anything to tell. 😑😑 you: a skull mask?? Kyle: did he not wear a mask when he was with u? 🤨🤨 you: yes? you: a black one Kyle: with a skull print on it yeah? you: no??? 🙃 you: just black! Kyle: jesus christ. Kyle: and what? what happened? you: nothing?! Kyle: walk me thru it. you: we went out for a drink then came back to mine and watched a movie! Kyle: 🤨🤨 Kyle: and had a shag? you: NO???? Kyle: wdym no? thats what would normally happen with a bloke. you: and???? you: this is simon were talking about kyle you: nothing about him screams normal exactly 🙃 you: hes joked about being able to kill me with his bar ehands you: bare hands* Kyle: fair. Kyle: this raises more questions for me. you: what Kyle: like u would meet with a masked bloke that can kill u with his bare hands alone without protection? 🤨 you: i had protection Kyle: not a condom. you: oh 😅 you: well we met at a pub soooo Kyle: what did u 2 do then Kyle: other than watch a ‘movie’ 🙄 you: played mario kart you: slept Kyle: as in Kyle: you SLEPT? like honk shoo honk mimimimi? you: yes🙄🙄 Kyle: im confused. you: ur confused? im fucking confused bro Kyle: wdym u SLEPT TOGETHER? 🙃 Kyle: WHAT KIND OF WITCHCRAFT IS THIS? Kyle: wtf have u done to him Kyle: like ghost doesnt text, he sure as shit doesnt visit people, and he doesnt go on dates, he doesnt sleep next to people, im almost sure the man doesnt have feelings or emotions and only speaks in sarcasm Kyle: how can u get that out of him?? 🤨🤨 Kyle: no one else can! you: well with that mentality you cant you: idk what to tell u you: we hit it off 🙄 Kyle: explain yourself. you: ive been explaining it!!!!! Kyle: no explain it better. Kyle: I think Im having a stroke. you: idk how to make it clearer??? Kyle: thats it. Kyle: are you free rn?? Kyle: I need u to explain urself. 😑 you: Im at work? Kyle: whens ur lunch break? 👀 you: in 35 minutes. Kyle: do u like ramen? you: yes? Kyle: whats the closest japanese to ur job? you: Akira Kyle: meet me at Akira for lunch. Kyle: I’m buying. you: who said i want to meet up with u?? 🤨🤨 Kyle: man just get down there. Kyle: im offering to pay. you: fineeeee 🙄

Kyle quickly hopped up from his seat at his desk with a start and rushed back to his room to change out of his fatigues.

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

taglist (CLOSED! not adding anyone else, sorry!): @daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes , @irregulardongyoung , @spacelia , @hayleybarnesx , @infpt-zylith , @xxshadowbabexx , @frescoisnotinthemilitary , @leeeenistop , @lucienbarkbark , @zombie-freak , @wittleespur

@severenswife , @enarien, @agoodmoviekiss , @l0lziez , @whos-fran , @greatstormcat , @openup-yourmind , @neoarchipelago , @sodavrr , @cutiecusp , @lilliumrorum , @c-nstantine , @kneelforloki , @comeonatmebruh , @codsunshine , @waiting-so-long , @captainquake42 , @gazspookiebear , @mynameismisty , @reap3erslov3 , @reaper-chan666 , @poohkie90 , @kitwithnokat , @stick-the-dumbass , @mothsdrabbles , @justanerd1 , @thesinsoflust , @thriving-n-jiving , @blckbrrybasket

#ikea writes 💚#it's a match! fic #cod modern warfare #cod fanfic #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #text story #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader

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yeyinde · 1 year

Text

in undertow | Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!Reader

They won’t shut up about why he wears the mask.

This isn't anything new. You've heard it all before.

Maybe, then, it's the rookie inside of you still burning to be included, to be acknowledged, accepted, that makes you flick your mic on with a single press of your stupid little finger. Makes you open your stupid little mouth, and say:

"You're all wrong, boys; he's just keeping my seat warm."

(a joke at your lieutenant's expense has unexpected consequences.)

part ii

tw: gratuitous smut; unfettered filth; face-sitting: oral - f!receiving; female!reader; male-solo: Ghost makes himself cum whilst drowning in pussy; some plot. kinda. but it’s mostly 7K+ of clownfoolery

notes: Ghost eats pussy like he’s starving. that’s it. that’s all, folks.

(also, this is so thirsty. this man is making me feral. send help pls)

*bonnie-scottish term of endearment, kinda similar to hen or lass, and is not a name. MC is not named.

It's not uncommon to tune into a channel on downtime, and hear your Lieutenant being mentioned in some manner or another.

Ghost is infamous. Legendary. The men in your unit, and the ones you ally up with, are–in equal measure–his biggest fan, and his bitter rival.

It's all one-sided, of course. If Ghost was any other man, you'd confidently say that he didn't even know who they were, but he isn't. And he does. Which, of course, makes the rivalry all that more bitter, blistering, when he refuses to acknowledge their challenges.

He proves himself time and time again, and isn't even trying to.

So, they flex their arms– see, bigger than yours –but he hardly notices, much to their chagrin.

Sometimes, they'd turn to you–the unofficial arbitrator, a denomination that seemed unanimously decided on by the whole team; Ghost, bemusingly, included–and ask stupid questions:

Who's arms are bigger? Mine, come have a feel, lass.

Ghost seemed decidedly tolerant of these moments, watching with those dangerous eyes as your hands flexed around the bulk of your teammates' bicep, cooing cloyingly at him. Ooh, working out, I see. Feels like the leg of a fawn!

Now 'im, they'd say, your heart would warble in your chest.

A strange, off-rhythm pulse that almost hurt. He'd match your gaze when you looked over your shoulder, peering at the imposing man lurking in the midst of everyone else. Firm, steady. Unflinching. He'd hold it, always.

He does that, doesn't he?

When Ghost looks at you, the air in your lungs dissipates; dissolves into ashes, then into smoke.

(Sometimes, he stares at you, and it feels like a challenge. Like he's waiting for something.)

Your smile folds, wan. Lieutenant–

Go on, then! He ain't bigger than me.

It turns several shades of apologetic when you slide up to him, palms spread flat, docile. Walking up to him feels like approaching a predator. Any sudden movements, and he'll have your neck between his jowls. He never would, you know this deep down. But still.

You, uh, don't have to let me.

His head would duck down–too tall to look at you without bringing a kink to his neck–and his eyes would waver in the light. Midnight black to charcoal. Smoke. Ash. The same taste in your lungs.

S'alright. He'd prop his arm up for you, eyes dancing. Best get it done with before these geezers get into a fit.

He doesn't look away. Doesn't break contact. It's intense. Too much.

You demure.

You're not submissive to anyone. Your teammates, the enemy, politicians–no one makes you break. No one makes your chin lower to your chest, your eyes drop. You can't–not, really. Not here. Not in this world where everyone is looking at you like you're too soft, too vulnerable, to be of any use. When even your teammates slip sometimes, try to carry you despite knowing how capable you are on your own.

The hurdle you have to fling yourself over just to prove yourself to your teammates, your backers, is a skyscraper.

They call you Nile –the moniker born from the startling resemblance to the aggressive, territorial crocodiles that live in the water–and you do your best to live up to the comparison.

You don't shy away from anyone.

Except him.

Your eyes fix on your feet. Hands tremble as they slide over the hard muscle of his biceps–firm, unyielding: flesh-covered iron. Your stomach in knots. Chest too tight.

Ghost's eyes are glued to your face. His muscles flex under your exploratory fingers. Ticking, bulging. His flesh jumps when you touch him. The heat of his skin sear your fingertips, so hot you think it might burn the prints off your hands.

You both love and hate these moments.

When hypoxia flashes through your head–dizzying, nauseating–you step back, clear your throat, and stammer out the winner.

Ghost, always Ghost.

His eyes are shades lighter. Slate-grey, now. Amusement, you think.

The men around you riot, demanding a rematch.

(You blame it on testosterone.)

One such occurrence happens to be right now. The comm is clogged with feverish conspiracy theories as to why Ghost wears the mask ranging from the grounded (to conceal his identity–he's a big OP: can't go showing his ugly mug to everyone) to the absurd (he's probably hideously deformed; heard he took a hit to the face–considering what I heard is under there, I'd say he's doing us all a favour), and everything in-between.

This isn't anything new. You've heard it all before.

"You're all wrong, boys," you purr, eyes fixed on the weapon you were tinkering with. "He's just keeping my seat warm."

The line goes pin-drop silent. A poignant shush. It's so eerily, unnaturally quiet on the comm, that you look up, blinking. Was it frozen?

You glance at the computer, checking the channel to see if you'd changed it by accident. It's on. And–

Open, it says. Open mic. Open broadcast.

It never occurred to you to check the channel they were using.

It's not a private one between groups; it's the main one.

Why would these bellends use the main comm to talk about a man, their superior officer, on the channel he preferred, the one he was always tuned into?

You pale. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

You blame your stupid little mouth, and testosterone. Mostly, testosterone.

Maybe, Ghost wasn't listening. Maybe, he –

"Jesus Christ," Soap groans after several agonising seconds. Soap, who was on recon with Ghost. Soap, who was with Ghost. Soap who –

The line falls dead once more. No one says anything. Not even a murmur of how well and truly fucked you are. Then, it crackles again. You jump, tensing. Please be some stupid rookie. Please be someone else. Please don't be–

"Fuckin' hell," comes the brassy timbre, the sandpaper tone scratching your ear.

You shiver. You're fired. No, no–they can't fire you, you know too much. You're dead. You're–

"Rookie," he barks. You struggle to stifle a whimper. "Report to me when I get back."

You weakly stammer out a yes, sir, Lieutenant, sir.

"And everyone else – get off the main channel."

Nervous would be an understatement.

It's the crushing weight of utter humiliation, embarrassment, and shame all admixing into an imbroglio of dire consequences looming ahead. Your stomach is in knots.

There are murmurs of sympathy from the others when they eventually make their way back into the pseudo-compound, but you notice none of it. Eyes fixed on a crack in the concrete. Shoulders up to your ears. Cheeks stained the colour of the Russian oligarch you gunned down the night prior.

Nile is nowhere to be found. You're no longer the wet-behind-the-ears Rookie, barely of legal age, as you clamber through the ranks in a spiteful, feverish effort to prove yourself. Now, a fully fleshed adult: moulded by your determination and grit to persevere.

You're the little girl pushed to the pavement. Skinned knees, blistered palms. Drenched in rain, and told you're not enough.

"Fuck me," comes the slurred drawl of Soap. You flinch.

"Yeah," you agree.

No words need to be said. You're done. Over. You stroke the barrel of your rifle, and wonder if you'll be forced into an office job, running the numbers, working in a barren cubicle that sinks of fresh paper and ink. The only action comes from Martha's affair with Josh in Finance.

"Y'know…," he adds, because apparently, some words need to be said. Your gaze flickers toward him. He leans against the metal pillar, arms folded. "Never seen the Lieutenant speechless before."

You let out a whimper. Fucked, royally, of course–Soap only confirms what you already know. What you've known the moment you looked up, a stupid little smirk on your stupid little face, and saw the meagre amount of respect you clobbered together from your Lonewolf–actions have consequences and if it were you or the mission, don't even bother asking what his choice is Lieutenant being summarily flushed down into the depths. Obliterated because you couldn't keep your stupid little mouth shut.

Because you heard ugly and deformed and immediately thought of smoke. Ashes. Gasoline. Gunpowder. Firm biceps that leapt at your touch–the only man to do so when you feigned annoyance and reluctantly felt them up–and the velvet steel of his bulk. Your hands didn't fit around the thick of him. It made your head dizzy. Made your heart ache. Heat throbbing between your legs in a way that most men never even accomplished with you spread out and willing. And–

Eyes darker than the ocean, framed by ashen lashes that fluttered when he glanced down at you, brushing over the coal smeared around his face.

You thought of him–that stupid Cockney mouth and those stupid jokes–and how – how stupid he makes you, and you –

Stupid.

Full stop. End. Done. Fin.

Maybe, you can grovel for transfer. Please don't kick me out completely, I've done so much to simply prove myself – more than most of the men here because I've had to, and I don't want to lose it all because I'm–

"Stupid." You spit the word like a curse.

Beside you, Soap huffs.

"Ain't the only one, bonnie."

Shame blisters your cheeks, and the burn of it makes you a coward. Weak.

You spend the rest of the day idling away in your makeshift quarters (a closet, really) in the compound loaned by the government who requested your aid. Stiff-limbed, you lay back on the cot, and try to commit everything around you to memory.

Noises from the men downstairs. Chatter and laughter. Loud and raucous. The heady scent of testosterone is thick in the air, mixing with the cloying tang of cigarette smoke, cigars, and the bitter taste of gun oil. Kerosene rich, and stifling.

The bed is lumpy, but in the middle of nowhere luxury is hardly needed when you're making a massacre of men who want to start a war. It's far more than you'd gotten before. Alvarez jokes, saying at least it isn't the ground. You're inclined to agree.

Your gear sits in the corner, tightly packed as it had been when you'd first arrived, and dropped it there. You never unpack your things. Experience gives you the foresight to know it's useless, dangerous. Your location can be slipped at a moment's notice. Gunfire ripping through the metal on a whim.

Ghost never unpacks, either. Soap. Most of the men here don't.

But now you wish you had.

The pile of it feels like an omen as it sits, mocking you; ready to go when you're given the boot.

You wrench your eyes away from it when the salty burn of tears you haven't shed since Porthmadog rear. It's fine. You clench your fists into tight balls by your side. It'll be okay. You'll get on–your experience and insight make you a desirable name to have; someone lusted after when they needed intel only you managed to wiggle out, and get. Another team will be easy to find once the politicians paying for them read about your exploits.

On paper, anyway.

Nile is a name that makes their fingers spasm.

You, however, are a name that makes them hesitate.

You'll have to start at the bottom again. Kissing the gravel with your palms once more; struggling to find your foothold along the chossy that wants you weak. Wants you broken, and docile. Obedient.

Ghost never asked that of you.

He looked at you, hands curled into half-moons by your side, eyes unwavering as you glared at the man backing the mission, and ground out your accomplishments like you were spitting in his face.

"I don't know…" he started, hesitating; his eyes flickering down the length of your body. Too small compared to the men they'd seen before you. Too fragile. Giving.

All at once, you were back in Porthmadog. Salt on your cheeks. In the air. Your throat. Gravel digging into your palms. Broken down into a crushed shell with nothing inside. It was the day you realised you were empty. Hollow. Nothing. Vacant. A vacuum.

Worthless.

What good is a man if he has nothing to lose? Ghost speaks for the first time, and your eyes find his through the palpable cloud of rejection. So, what've you got to lose, soldier?

Soldier. Not girl, not Dame, not Duchess, Princess. Soldier.

You square your shoulders, eyes blazing. Everything, you vow. All the substance you pushed inside of the barren landscape of who you once were, filling it with purpose, and dignity. A reason to live. A reason to be. Everything.

His head tipped back. The whites of his eyes were fuller under the flushed lamp on the desk.

Inside, you could almost glimpse that same emptiness you found when they'd broken you into pieces, and nothing spilt out.

"A'right." He nods. "Welcome to the team."

The team. The patchwork family of people far too unhinged to fit into the rest of the world. Names and faces came and went. Many were lost to the effort, to the cause. Time to mourn took place outside of this microcosm when no one was around to see you break.

You'll miss them. It rings out in the hollow gap between your rib and your heart, an aching sting that has your hands spasming around the sheets to stem the sudden hurt. Fuck, you'll really miss these goddamn idiots.

And Ghost, too.

The prickly leader who says he'd sacrifice all of you if it meant finishing the mission, but still throws himself into the fire so none of you gets burnt. The man who bites at your heels, snaps at your attempts to get closer, but brushes his fingers along the seam of your arm, chin jerking toward the only closet in the compound where he'd dropped your cot.

Up there, soldier.

He's a bastard of the worst kind. Surly, mean, and gruff around the edges, but he's a good man despite what he says. He's a great leader–the best, undoubtedly, that you've ever had. That you will have.

And you might be a little bit in too deep already. Washed out to sea in the middle of a hurricane, and left floundering as waves crashed over you in the form of a brutal, off-limits affection for a man who keeps everyone at a distance.

Maybe, this is for the best. Leaving here now, when these feelings are simply tugging at you, and not yet dragging you under. It might be a better alternative than being discovered with your head under the waves, and your lungs filled with salt from the sea.

It's better this way, then.

The call comes hours later. The compound is empty. Silent. Your comm rings, and it feels like a guillotine being hoisted into position.

Right.

You haul yourself out of the cot, and go meet your end.

You will yourself not to demure under the heavy slate of his eyes, but it's futile. You wilt, pathetically submissive to this behemoth of a man. Face downcast, shoulders hunched.

"Let's not fuck about, alright?" the gritty timber of his voice makes your chest shudder.

You nod. Sharp, and deep. Dutiful soldier. You brace yourself for it. He won't draw it out. He isn't the type.

But you falter when his hands tug on the end of his mask.

"Keepin' it warm, huh?" He asks, but you know by the tone alone that it's rhetorical.

"Sir, I–" you falter, stammering into a terse silence. What excuse do you have?

"Well," he asks, lifting his head. Eyes brand your body. The command is clear. "Aren't you comin' to take your seat, Rookie?"

You sputter. Shattering. The world as you know it flips on its axis. Upside down and wrong.

It's a joke. It has to be. A cruel one. A bad dream that will leave you in aching shambles when you wake, stealing with it a piece of yourself that you'll never reclaim. Another etch in the exterior of who you are. A fracture.

"S-sir–," you gasp, choking on the word when his hands lift, pulling up the bottom of his mask until a full, pink mouth is revealed to you. "What–"

"It's gettin' cold, now."

Seeing him speak is blindsiding. You're so used to painted jowls moving, a mockery of bared, white teeth, and a warped jawbone. This is – this is too much. This is –

Not good.

Ghost doesn't seem bothered at all when he settles, leaning on the back of the desk, eyes burning through you. Bulging forearms cross over his massive chest. The ripple of ink flexing, breathing, with his impatience that thrums in the air like a heartbeat.

"Best hurry up." His tongue–his fucking tongue; blood-red and wet –flicks out, gliding over chapped lips.

"Lieutenant–," his title is a strangled wince from the depths of your bewilderment, flavoured with uncertainty. "This is–is a joke, yeah?"

His head tilts. "Do I look like the joking type?"

And that's such a misleading question. So utterly stupid, you choke a little on a bark of hysterical laughter.

"How am I supposed to answer that?"

"Or were you joking, soldier?"

The breath sucked in between clenched teeth is audible.

"Fuckin' hell," he rasps in response. "Then stop muckin' about and get over here if you want it."

If you want it.

He addresses the power imbalance by placing the choice in your hands. By giving you the freedom to decide what to do with this. Take the step, or leave his office, and never speak of this moment again.

If you stay– sit on his face –you're not entirely sure how you'll handle being around him afterwards. Will it be a–a thing? A one-off?

And could it just be a one-time thing for you? Once you have him so intimately, can you forget it, move on? Go back to the pining. The slow descent into an inescapable chasm where you have feelings– blasphemous –for your Lieutenant. For Ghost.

But could you just walk away from this?

You don't know. Neither question has a clear answer, and you're once again treading frothing waters. Left to sink or swim all on your own.

Ghost says nothing while you mull it over, but there's a weight in his gaze that makes your stomach prickle with want. A heaviness inside the inky black of his stare that makes your thighs squeeze together, pussy aching with need.

The choice is pretty obvious.

Your hands drop to your trousers, fingers peeling off the buttons.

For once, your eyes never leave his.

For the first time, Ghost is the one to look away.

His tongue slides out again when you wiggle out of your pants, thumbs crooked in the band of your panties, until you're bared before him. Your trousers pooling at your ankles. Panties caught on your calves.

His swallow is a gunshot. It clicks in his throat.

"Christ, Princess."

You step out of them, licking your lips. "No muckin' about."

His eyes darken at your words. "Get the fuck over here, then."

"Is that an order?"

"Affirmative, soldier."

With your approach, he sinks to his knees on the floor, eyes only for you. His breath is haggard when he catches a glimpse of your cunt when you're less than an arm length away from him, eyes fixed on your mound.

"M'gonna touch you, now." His head lifts, stare bores into you.

The brass in his voice makes your belly tingle, makes heat bloom inside of you. It has you whimpering your consent, and the moment it leaves your throat, his hands–fever hot and rough–are on you.

They settle, heavy and firm, on your hips, pulling your stomach into his face. The plastic of his mask digs into your skin when he presses his covered nose above your mound, breathing in deeply.

His eyes flutter shut. Ashen lashes brush over the bulge of his mask where it sits, piled up, on the bridge of his nose. You want to reach out, and touch. Slip your fingers through his hair. Cup his jaw. You want to press your mouth against his, and taste the flavour of his tongue. You want, you want –

His eyes snap open. Black holes. Unfathomably deep, and quivering around the edges.

"C'mon, Princess," his voice sounds like it was wrenched through barbed wire, smokey and thick. "Kept it nice and warm for you."

You can't stop the shiver that rockets down your spine at his tone, dark and primal. He looks at you, and you feel like a meal. A lavish banquet in face of a man starved.

"Fuck, Ghost–" you moan, your hips jerking in his hold.

"Simon," he rasps, tongue flicking over to taste the skin of your mound. You feel the knick of teeth, grazing and blunt, and it almost wrecks you. He hadn't even started, and your knees are practically knocking together; cunt dripping slick down your thighs.

His hand glides down the curve of your flesh until he meets the seam of your legs. "Spread 'em, pet. I wanna see your pretty cunt."

Fuck–

Your knees quiver, almost giving out under you at the base tone, drenched in the slick coil of want, hunger. He's there, hands firm and unyielding on your body, a low chuckle falling from his lips when he catches the shake in your legs.

"Little fawn is just achin' for it, ain't you?"

"Please, Simon –" he pulls your thighs apart, peering at the apex where your glistening sex is waiting for him.

He buries his head in your belly, groaning at the sight of you–all pretty and pink for him, and so wet he can see where it leaks out, drenching your flesh.

"Fuck, pet," he grinds the words out from between clenched teeth, inhaling deeply as if he can't get enough of your scent. "You're gonna make a mess outta me, aren't you?"

You've never heard him sound so excited before. The tremble in his voice is enough to keel you over, sending you toppling down into an inescapable abyss where his eyes brand your flesh, and his mouth devours you whole.

Your hands fall to his shoulders. The plea you utter is painted in the colour of desperation, and it makes his eyes flutter again, makes them spume with that white-hot desire, that dark promise of how much he's going to ruin you.

He takes one last breath, nose pushed against the bottom of your mound, as close to your pussy as he can get, and he moves.

One of the things you've never really understood was how a man so massive managed to move the way he did. Agile, lithe. Like his body was elastic. Liquid.

He's on the floor, mask pulled up high until his nose and mouth are bared to you, and then he's beckoning you forward with a crook of his finger. His eyes burn like wildfires when you tremble down beside him–all of your honed, practised grace dissolving into nothing with just a flick of his too-red tongue wetting his lips for you.

You fumble, pussy clenching with the thought of having his mouth on you–soon, so soon; and yet, not nearly quick enough–and settle before him, kneeling by his head.

"C'mon," he snarls, the bite in his tone blistering.

It has you whimpering, cunt spasming at the urgency, the impatience, in your once-cold leader. Distant, unshakable. You've never seen him so eager, nearly driven mad by the frustration of not already having your weeping slit on him, the taste of you on his tongue.

You've never sat on someone's face before. When you tell him this, his eyes shudder, blunt teeth digging into his lower lip to keep the filthy groan from rolling out.

You can't say shit like that, he grouses, his hands gripping your hip, pulling you closer.

He helps you settle over him, thighs spread over his head, ass resting on his chest.

His eyes are glued to your cunt as it opens up for him.

There is a war raging inside of you, one that taints the room with the scent of ichor. It fuels you, makes you bite your lip, coy and playful, and notch your knees further apart until you're bared, fully, to him. Fingers slipping over the hem of your shirt, hiking it up so he can see all of you. Teeth sink into the end of it, keeping it up as your hands drop–one to your covered nipple, the other to your soaked pussy. Two fingers glide over your mound, your clit sitting in the V. You spread them slowly, splitting your folds apart.

Your cunt pulses with the vibrations of his chest as he groans again, low and deep, at the sight of you spread out before him. A breath away from his lips.

It feels like a battle when his hand grips your flesh until it bubbles between his fingers. You'll be bruised when he's finished–a mosaic of black and blue and purple and yellow; a palette startlingly similar to his own–and it's the notion of his mark on your body, the proof of that his indomitable man, this untouchable entity, was between your thighs, gazing at you as if he wanted nothing more than the pink folds of your swollen slit on his tongue.

You shiver. Pleasure stroking through your body as your knuckles graze your clit.

You're not submissive to anyone–can't afford to be in this world–and you feel the swell of that intoxicating confidence return to you, the incipient spume of what made them liken you to an apex predator, one who hunted human men for sport pooling inside of you.

Does he see it when his lids lift, eyes seeking yours instantly. Does he read in the list of your head? The flutter of your lashes. You drop your shirt. Your hand falls to the side of his face, the brush of his skin on your fingertips somehow more intimate than this. He's warm. Feverish. You burn, too.

"Is my seat ready?" You purr, belly filling with victory when his eyes twitch, lowering back to your aching cunt.

"Always," he grunts, a soft sound polluting the word with the noxious promise of more.

You shudder, panting, now as you rock forward onto your knees, arched over his mouth.

Ghost's hands settle on the outside of your spread thighs, fingers gripping your flesh. He tugs, harsh and demanding, and you quickly settle, body turning into malleable polymer in his burning hands. He manoeuvres you until your pussy is right where he wants it, eyes flickering up, catching your glossy gaze. He holds it, lashes fluttering as he inhales, deep and long, and then breathes it out through his mouth, warm breath ghosting over your exposed, slick cunt.

"Well?" He drawls, the word nearly shredded and raw when it slips out of his throat. "You gonna take your seat, pet?"

You shudder again, shoulders tensing so tight, it aches. Pet. Pet. Pet. Fuck –

"Yeah," it's a whisper, a gasp. Needy and quivering.

Your hand moves from his face, fingers chilled without his warm skin against them, and you settle it on the desk beside you, muscles in your thighs straining as you slowly position your sopping wet cunt over your Lieutenant's waiting mouth.

His lips brush the seam of your pussy, and the groan he lets out rumbles over your flesh. Liquid pleasure blooms. He hasn't even touched you yet, and you're already aching for release. Already inching toward that precipice.

When you're close enough, he pulls; glueing you to his mouth. He wastes no time before diving in.

His tongue laves over your drenched folds, dipping inside your swollen pussy to dance over your aching clit, your throbbing hole. You press your wrist to your mouth, biting down hard to stifle the moans that threaten to spill out–somehow more taboo than having your Lieutenant eating your pussy out like he's starved for it.

Pain blooms on the fat of your ass cheek, your surprised gasp swallowing the sound of his hand smacking your flesh.

"I want to hear you," he growls into your cunt, wrecked and drunk off your taste. His words are slurred, accent thick and heavy. Almost incoherent.

His eyes are pits. Little black holes. The pupil completely eclipsed his irises. Desire spumes.

When you pull your hand away, settling it on the corner of the desk instead, he flashes his approval, and then buries his face back into you. His tongue is demanding as it licks over your folds, circling your throbbing clit.

Liquid pleasure seeps from the tip of his tongue to the base of your spine, where it pools into a molten puddle of bliss. It's good. No, it's better than that. It's –

Your head drops back, hips rutting into his mouth, chasing that euphoria his tongue brings when it toys with your flesh, then slips down, pushing into your drenched, fluttering hole. He fucks you with just the tip, groaning when your hips cant into his face, smearing your wetness all over his chin, jaws. He'll be drenched in your slick by the time this is over.

He's still your superior. Still your boss, technically, but fuck –

Your hand drops from the desk, sliding into the fabric of his mask until a fistful sits in your grasp. A tug makes his eyes snap open, darting up to meet yours. Is this okay? you want to ask, but the question is swallowed by the filthy groan he lets out into your cunt when you pull a little harder, accidentally snatching the hair beneath.

It's good, then. You pull a little more. His mouth drops, panting into you.

You whine when he stops, hips bucking into his mouth. "Please, please, don't stop–"

"Fuck, Princess," he slurs. "That's it. Ride my face, c'mon."

You're a good soldier. So, so good. You could never deny a command from your superior officer.

It's clumsy at first–hesitant. A slow roll of your hips, too afraid of smothering your Lieutenant, and having to fess up to being the one to murder him with your cunt keeps you from pushing your core into his face, taking your pleasure. You want to, though. Want to so bad your thighs quiver with the effort of holding back.

The room is filled with the sticky slick sounds of your sopping centre dragging over his eager mouth. Breathless pants spill from your throat at the obscene pleasure that burrows into your core.

And his groans.

God, his noises are enough to make you whimper. Filthy growls into your aching pussy as he eats you up, as if he can't get enough of your taste. As if he's parched and your wetness is the first drink he'd had in years.

It rumbles through the slick, softness of his tongue, and straight into your clit. The vibrations make your head numb, fuzzy, until you're stupid off the way he devours you whole.

"Fuckin' hell," he breathes into you–voice reverent as his molten tongue slips inside again, as if he can't get enough of it. "Gimme this pretty lil'pussy. C'mon… yeah, that's it…"

His voice is muffled when your hips rock faster against him, but the praise in his tenor has you shamelessly bucking into his mouth, against his tongue. The sounds wrenched from your throat are wonton, and needy, a breathless plea for more. Fuck, so much more –

His tongue parts your folds, gliding through the drenched slick until he's pressing the tip into your aching hole, splitting you apart. It pushes into you–quick flicks, a pistoning motion; a facsimile of what you want his cock to do to you so badly. It has you keening. Has you riding his face, unbothered whether or not he suffocates between your thighs so long as he keeps doing what he's doing with that sinful fucking tongue that has you singing, has your eyes rolling back in your head, reaching so far you can see the cosmos.

It's a deep, toe-curling pleasure. The dangerous kind–the one that teases, that makes dark promises against your core about how badly it'll mess you up, get you hooked on the taste of it, and then absolutely delivers. The kind of bliss that has your stomach clenching, roiling with molten heat that happens too fast, you barely have enough time to warn him before you're begging for it, whining for the thickness of his tongue inside of your throbbing cunt.

His fingers bruise your thighs when they grip your flesh between his fingers, dragging your puffy, drenched pussy over his mouth to suckle on your aching clit until Nirvana flashes behind your eyelids. A whiteout so divine, you nearly slip into him when your knees give out.

His responding grunt sends pleasure blistering through your core when you lose yourself in the rasp of his tongue sweeping over your weeping slit.

Ghost's hand leaves your thigh as you tremble through the shockwaves sputtering out, leaking molten bliss through each synapse, each nerve, until you're moaning, shameless and desperate with the release that bludgeons through you.

The world dissolves into white noise. The buzz of it rings in your head as you break apart, ground, once more, down to atoms and molecules that burst with the undulating wave of molten euphoria that drags over you.

The white static in your head fades in a gradual ebb and flow as the world slowly pieces itself back together again.

His mouth hasn't stopped.

He rides you through it all, tongue laving over you as you clench around nothing but the phantom thought of how good his cock would feel inside of your soft, fluttering walls.

You pant, heaving for air, and grip the edge of the desk tight when his insistent licks become too much.

"Simon," you whine, but he doesn't stop. He doesn't slow.

His tongue drags through your folds, thrusting back into you. You clench around the thick muscle, whimpering as whips of pleasure spark through your core once more.

It's too much, too intense; the pleasure is battered into you until you're forced to accept it, forced to take the bliss he flicks into you with a quivering gasp, and trembling thighs.

He's not done with you. The taste wasn't enough.

You lean back, almost desperate to get away from that greedy mouth that consumes you, but the slick sound from behind you makes you pause.

Pleasure rolls through you again; a molten pulse of agonising want, pulling taut and snapping against you like a rubber band.

He's touching himself.

To the taste of you. To the feeling of your pussy drenching his face.

Fuck. Fuck –

You peer over your shoulder, whimpering when you catch sight of his furious strokes over his hard, weeping cock. The tip is flushed blood-red, leaking spend all over the mushroomed head, and down the long, thick length of him. Your thighs snap together, knees pressed taut to his ears.

He grunts into you but doesn't stop. Doesn't slow down. His tongue fucks into you at the same pace as his almost brutal strokes. Thick prepend puddles around the base of him, soaking his trousers, his hands. His fist.

"Fuck, Simon," you purr, too blissed, too far gone, to think properly. "You're so big." You grind down against him, eyes fixed on his hand. "I want you inside me. I want you fuck my pussy with your fat cock–"

He makes noises against you that sound like a wounded animal–low bellows into your swollen lips, groans of a starving man–and his relentless devouring of your cunt has your belly fluttering with the lashing of pleasure spooling in your core. It's everything–the hungry sounds he makes as he consumes your taste; the furious, almost desperate way he fists his throbbing cock in his hand, hips jerking into the tight seal of his palm as if he was imagining how the clutch of you would feel around him.

He could have taken his pleasure in reciprocity. Had you on your knees, sucking him off until he came down your throat. He could have bent you over the desk, and fucked into you like he so clearly wants.

He could've had you any way he wanted; he put you in any position he desired, and you would have gone willingly, eagerly.

But he doesn't.

His mouth glues to you like he can't get enough, like he doesn't want to stop, and he takes his pleasure from the taste of you alone.

It's –

It's so agonisingly hot.

The mask is rough between your fingers when you grip it tight, rolling your hips against his mouth–a tease of how you would ride him if he let you–and the sight of him, hips battering into his hand when you move, sinful groans whispered into your slit, sends you plunging into those depths once more.

It takes you by surprise: the orgasm is ripped from you, stolen by the sight of his cock twitching, spitting out ropes of cum all over his hand, his stomach.

You keen, toes curling as he squeezes every last drop out, panting into you as he rides himself through it, nose pressed taut to your raw clit, swollen and so sensitive it hurts.

He grounds out your name, a wrecked whisper into your pulsing slit, and the sound of it has your head dropping, gaze cresting down to gaze at him.

Simon's eyes are lidded. Heavy. All black. Endlessly so. They flicker up, as if he can feel your stare, and the glazing of pleasure in those slate-grey eyes makes you lose your footing once more, hurtling over the edge of a precipice too steep to climb out of.

A chill grazes your spine. Fuck. You're fucked. You're absolutely, utterly, irrevocably fucked.

He's a mess, absolutely drenched. Slick with your wetness, and covered in his own cum.

You hate how enticing he looks.

You sit on the ground, knees pressed together, watching him as he cleans up, wiping his hand on his shirt, and then dragging the hem up to his mouth.

The muscles in his thick abdomen make you squeeze your thighs together, a low throb brimming up at the sight of his inked, bulky flesh. Fuck. He's good-looking. Maybe. You only saw a peak of his face. A glimpse of his chest. But God, it's enough.

He could be a troglodyte under there, with just a handsome chin, and full pink lips, a long, curved nose, and you wouldn't care.

You'd gladly sit on his ugly mug any day.

He releases the bottom of his filthy shirt, and tugs the ends of his mask down. You wonder if he still smells you under there. If it whets his appetite as much as the thought of it does yours.

There are things you want to say, questions you want to ask, but they slip, reluctant, and–for the first time since Porthmadog– fearfully into the recesses that broke open when you'd said those stupid words. When you came face to face with the hideousness of wanting a man who wasn't allowed to want you back.

Simon– Ghost, now; Lieutenant–is an amalgamation of every bad decision. He's wrong and off-limits personified.

It's not that he's a bad man. Far from it. If there were any good men left in this world, then he was undoubtedly one of them.

But he's an illicit drink. Ambrosia. A forbidden elixir.

He's a man you're not allowed to want—a man you're not allowed to touch, to covet, to need.

It's all moot. Rendered out into ashes, dust. You can't have him.

You turn away when he straightens out. Ghost has the uncanny ability to read you unlike anyone else. He'll see this moment of weakness when your defences are in shambles.

"Y'alright?"

Your chest thunders at the rawness in his voice. "Y-yeah…"

"Good," he murmurs, hands falling to his sides, shoulders straight.

You pull yourself together. Try to, anyway, but it's hard when he's staring at your sticky thighs when you shakily stand up, and wrench your pants on.

"Hey," he calls, softer than you'd ever heard him speak. It makes you tense; the blistering sting of rejection is already there in the periphery.

"Yeah?"

He's quiet for a moment, and you risk a peek over your shoulder. It's –

Well.

It's fleeting. There for a second, and then gone the next. Barely a flicker. Had you not spent a whole year in the desert with him dodging scorpions, and men with machine guns and a lust for blood, you might have missed it.

But it was there. You saw it in passing.

His resolve seals over the fissure. His eyes are blown black and distant.

"We move out tomorrow."

You respect the fact that he doesn't press, doesn't push. He doesn't ask if you're good, if you're okay. Doesn't try to hash things out when you have death looming over you in a few short hours. He compartmentalises. Draws a thick delineation in the sand, and picks a side. Instant. Effortless.

Right.

Your fist quivers. You shove it in the pocket of your trousers.

When you look up, the gleaming gaze of a crocodile lurking in the murky waters stares back.

"Roger that, Lieutenant."

And you leave. It's simple. Effortless.

(Another hole in the veneer. Nothing leaks out.)

A week later, and the world around you is at peace once more. Mission: successful.

You keep your feelings a tightly guarded secret, and tuck them inside your ribs for safekeeping, unwilling to let them go quite yet.

You're a dutiful soldier. A professional. You look him in the eye, and don't flinch. You face the men around you, and pretend you don't know what Ghost sounds like when he grunts your name in pleasure. He, in turn, acts as if his breath doesn't carry the taste of you. As if you don't linger behind his front teeth; piquant and damning.

It's a dance.

The choreography is new, but the rhythm is the same. You follow the beats, and let him lead you around the ballroom until the cracks inside have been plastered over. Something normal settles–or, rather: something as close to normal as you can get when you can still feel the ghost of his touch on your skin.

Soap looks on with something a bit too keen in his eyes, but mercifully says nothing at all. He isn't the type to pry–least of all when it comes to Ghost.

The others pick at it like a scab, watching it peel and bleed for their amusement. To them, nothing happened. You got reamed out, reprimanded, and that's all. A slip of the tongue; a joke gone too far. It's nothing new. Stuck in a foreign country with men trying to kill you at every corner, tempers fly. Fists, too.

When the dust settles, all is forgotten. New again.

They hear you call out to Ghost over the comm, and when he responds back–tone pinched and gruff like it always is–they know it's done. Dealt with.

Sometimes, they mock you.

Never in front of him, of course: not when the last man to do so, tapping his chin with a toothy grin, and a singsong, gotta seat for you right here, doll falling from his lips, was met with the brunt of his Lieutenant's anger. Scathing words that slash, deadly and sharp, pointed enough to vivisect a man clean through the gut.

"I hope you have a brain in your skull to use instead of just that tiny pecker in your trousers, because if that's the only one you got, I think it's safe to say we're all fucked, aren't we?"

And with that, it's over. Done.

The world goes back to shades of espionage and counterterrorism. Games of poker between putting a bullet in a man's head. A drink after cutting the throat of a shady politician. Drenched in blood. Dressed in metals.

When the mission finishes, you find yourself staring at your bags already packed up in the corner, and wonder if you'll ever unpack them one day.

(You wonder if he ever will, either.)

It's Soap who knocks on the door. "Wheels up in twenty."

"Roger."

Soap doesn't usually linger, but today he hesitates.

You lift your chin and meet his pinched expression.

"Alright, bonnie?"

The bags mock you. Filled to the brim with things that should be a necessity, but haven't been used in years. It's bursting. Chock full. Pushed to its mettle. And yet, decidedly empty at the same time.

A picture of what you do, what you are.

Your head lists to the side. "I think so."

His nod, too, is sharp and deep. A soldier, a brother in arms.

"Hey… you, uh… what did you mean by–um." You falter. It's your turn to hesitate.

"What?"

"Before, you know… with Ghost."

The confusion slips deftly into understanding. And then a distinct grimace. "Why?"

"Curious, is all."

There is a weight in his stare, too, but it's different from your Lieutenant's. Less intense. Invasive. Soap looks at you like you're an idiot. A wet-behind-the-ears rookie nursing a crush on the one man who is firmly off-limits. And really, that's what you are, in a sense.

In that single degree of separation, you think you find the substance you were looking for all along. You think it's been there the whole time. Mocking you like the bags in the corner. Untouched. Unnoticed. Waiting.

You suck in a breath at the thought.

It's not enough. Not yet. You need to know–

You do what you’re good at. You gather the intel.

Soap shakes his head. An imperceptible movement, almost missed.

But you catch it.

"Bonnie," he says, heavy. His shoulder sags against the door frame. Then he sighs. Shakes his head. "There are very few people out there that can distract him from a task. From a mission."

Your heart is in your throat, featherlight. The wings of a small bird preening its plumage.

Your breath shudders out of you.

Mission, you think–

"Better know what you're gettin' into."

You smile, wide and bright. Bigger than any you'd carried with you in Porthmadog. "I think I do."

He always sits alone on the plane unless he needs to go over the game plan, or discuss positions with others. Head always turned. Eyes shuttered, fixed out the window.

He never looks up. Never moves.

You think about that thing you saw. The vague glimmer in his eyes. It's the bolstering confidence you need, the one that carries you.

What good is a man if he has nothing to lose? It propels you forward–a mantra, a gospel–and you use it, now, in this sleepy jet that reeks of men, gunpowder, and sweat. They're all riding high on the success of a victory–one with no casualties on your side: a rarity–and most of them are out cold, or blubbering over finally going home to their family.

It's an earned break. Deserved.

You don't know what to do with it. Where to go. Home hadn't felt like home since you sunk your palms into the pavement, and stained the gravel with your blood. Years on the move, living in the shadow, has reduced the idea to a whim, an evanescent thing. You don't quite mourn its loss, but you miss the compunction that used to sit low in your belly when you turned your back to the place, and shouldered your duffle bag.

Now, it's just another city on the list of many.

His head lifts when you approach. Your heart stammers, featherlight, and heavy as a paperweight.

You find his eyes over the pews that separate you.

Slate. Charcoal. Black holes.

You wonder if he'll tear you apart if you get too close.

Your fingers ache to find out.

"Rookie," he grouses, hoarse from the meagre sleep the night prior. It's a bland acknowledgement in itself, but his look alone belies the nonchalance in his greeting. There's a question there.

You have one, too.

The sun crests over the plane when it rises, drenching him in ochre. Your smile feels a little too full and a touch too wobbly, when it quirks on your lips.

His shoulders ease. Eyes drop, lidded and heavy. Unguarded, disarmed, for the first time in years.

You think if he could, he'd be smiling, too.

"Is this seat taken?"

#simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost x reader #call of duty #cod #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw2 #simon riley fanfic #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #myfics #Simon Ghost Riley

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hey-august · 4 months

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A Favor for the Captain - Chapter 1 | NSFW (Buggy x afab!reader)

Description: You expected to spend night duty alone, but your captain decides to keep you company. Together you enjoy some light hearted conversation and silly jokes, before Buggy asks for an unexpected, but not unwelcome, favor. Word count: Just under 2.5k A/N: This is probably just going to be 2 chapters. I have the next chapter outlined, so hopefully it'll be ready to post soon. Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, buggy x afab!reader, no use of Y/N, dry humping, bad jokes, pathetic and embarrassed buggy because he's bad at communicating. All parties are consenting adults.

→ Chapter 2

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

“Make good choices!” you called out to your crewmates as they streamed off the ship and into the night. It had been ages since any of you had free time and most of the crew chose to spend it in town, savoring goods and experiences that were sparse out at sea. Fresh food, endless alcohol, and sex with people you didn’t work with.

You, on the other hand, were stuck on the ship. Your freedom was clipped short when you were put on night guard duty. Someone had to mind the ship at night and it fell to the new recruit who didn’t know they should lie about already having plans. Secretly, you didn’t mind. There was supposed to be a meteor shower soon and this gave you an excuse to look for the shooting stars.

The dark and quiet night draped over the ship, a heavy blanket that muffled the soft crashes of sea. A soft breeze danced through the palm trees on the shore, moving them in time with the echoes of music and laughter that drifted from town. You were laid out on the deck, positioned to search the sky. Each pinprick of light was still in place, almost mocking you for remaining on the ship and not exploring elsewhere. As if you had a choice.

Lost in thought and drifting among the constellations, you missed the sound of footsteps approaching your solo viewing party. They moved in time with the sound of waves, a natural ability from someone bound to the sea. Eventually you realized that the feeling of being watched wasn’t pouring from the watchful moon and stars, but from a presence nearby.

Your captain broke into a grin at the sight of your panicked double-take. The first look expressed confusion and the second carried fear. Neither were emotions that were foreign to him, the pirate clown has seen both directed at him many times before. But watching your head whip around to confirm it was the captain and the way your eyes widened was downright comical.

Before you could scramble to your feet, Buggy crouched next to you. You sat up and surveyed his face, trying to assess how absolutely fucked you were. Honestly, it was hard to read anything past the fake smile painted on his face, but he looked more bemused than pissed. This could work in your favor.

“So…guard duty?” Buggy broke the silence first.

You cringed, unsure how to answer. How could you convince the captain you were on duty when you didn’t even hear him walk over? The guy wears heavy boots. On the plus side, he wasn’t wearing his coat full of knives, bombs, and other superfluous noise makers. Even still, that wasn’t enough of an excuse.

“What were you even looking at?” he questioned, each word emphasized by his mischievous smile.

“The stars,” you answered, glancing back up at the silent audience. At the edge of your vision, you saw Buggy also turn towards the sky. “There are supposed to be shooting stars, but I haven’t seen any.”

“Ever?” He turned his attention back to you. The question caught you off-guard and you shook your head.

“Damn, if I had the right prop I could make your night.” Buggy could see the gears turning in your head, producing a complete lack of understanding. He sighed disappointedly and mimed shooting at the sky before gesturing at himself. “Shooting…star…” It was so obvious.

You groaned and covered your face, not sure if your laughter was because it was actually a good joke, or because Buggy delivered the gag like it was. Satisfied with your response, Buggy joined you in sitting on the wooden floor and looked back at the sky.

Massaging the rest of the laughter out of your cheeks, you turned towards your captain. “Have you ever seen one? A real shooting star?”

“Countless times. They’re really a sight to see…the stars know how to put on a show.”

In the corner of his eye, Buggy saw you nod as he spoke, noting how you gazed at him a moment longer than usual. Normally the attention would make Buggy feel self-conscious, but the air between you two felt comfortable. It always did. Not that you two interacted much, but he picked up on your calm composure, even when he was wreaking havoc on the crew. Even now, as you eased yourself back into lying on the floor, you exuded a sense of peace. Moving naturally, as if you were hanging out with a close friend and not your boss. Maybe this was all conjured by the loneliness in his head. Still, Buggy indulged in the atmosphere. He joined you in spreading out on the floor for a better view of the sky and there you both lay, under boundless celestial nightlights.

“Do you know the names of the constellations?” you questioned, putting a pause to the relaxed silence you were sharing.

Buggy nodded and started rattling off celestial names while a disembodied gloved hand floated overhead, pointing out each group of stars. After the first few, he started adding in a few made up constellations.

“Big Richie, it’s a magnificent, fearsome, circus lion.” “The Big Top Tent! See how it encompasses everything?” “Oh, this is my favorite, the Genius Jester Hat! It-”

The last one was cut off when your chuckles exploded into full-fledged laughter, satisfying the clown. “Alright, alright, I get it,” you choked out and elbowed his arm.

Buggy summoned his hand back, suddenly, hyper aware of how close you two were. Shoulders touching slightly after your giggle-fest. Hands a breadth apart. Fingers so close they could touch if he simply reached out. Heat grew in the places close to you, as if you were setting him on fire.

You weren't aware, but you were doing it again. Consuming his mind, his attention. The way you always watched him - observed, really - interested Buggy. Occupying areas of his mind until there were days where he could only think of you. Think of ways to get your eyes on him. Your attention focused on him. Your laugh creating music for his ears. Your smile. Your lips.

There were also nights where the thoughts of you flooded his mind. At first he’d ignore them, believing it was a passing fancy. But they wouldn’t leave him alone. Every glimpse of you kept the tantalizing visions buoyant. Any shred of attention you gave him added to the relentless waves in his head, until he succumbed. He’d let the swell of endless thoughts and images consume his body until he was left shuddering and gasping your name in the dark. And now, that familiar tempest was brewing inside the pirate.

Buggy pulled his knees up, hoping the position would hide the bulge growing in his pants. Sure, he could leave, but he felt greedy. He wanted more. He wanted to stay close to you. To listen to your breathing. Feel the heat of your body…

“Captain?” Your voice snapped him back into the moment. He hummed an acknowledgement.

“I hope this isn’t too forward, but I’ve been wondering why you always wear gloves.” You nudged your hand against his, skin against fabric.

“Why? It’s part of my schtick. My role as a performing artist,” Buggy boasted.

“Mmm, part of your costume?”

“Exactly.” Buggy was pleased that you understood, but your next question tested that warm feeling.

“Are you performing now? Is this a bit?”

Buggy stayed silent. He held up his gloved hands, thinking about how to answer. To be honest, he wasn’t sure himself. It didn’t feel like a bit or a performance. There was something genuine here.

You watched as Buggy pulled off his gloves and set them down. So that was his answer. Seeing his bare hands felt surprisingly intimate. His nails were painted. Thankfully the dark night hid the blush overtaking your face. You copied Buggy and held out your hands. The two of you mimicking each other, palms raised to the sky as if waiting to collect the stars themselves.

Buggy reached over to grab one of your hands, remarking at how small it is compared to his. Other than the tell-tale calluses that all pirates have, his skin was soft. You liked how his grasp enveloped your hand. It was gentle. Cautious. Buggy liked how your hand felt in his. Warm and accepting.

Something was caught in the pirate’s throat. Words he knew he shouldn’t say, but would cause him to explode if he kept them contained. Buggy swallowed the nerves that threatened to shake his voice.

“I need you to do me a favor.”

“Yes, Captain?”

Fuck. Even though Buggy has heard those words from you many times before, this time it sounded different. Better.

“Get on top of me.”

You turned your head to see if you heard him right. Before you could ask and confirm, his detached hands were tugging and nudging you to move. Your body felt clumsy. It was in disbelief, trying to catch up to the thoughts running through your mind and the demanding hands maneuvering it into place. Nervous and confused, you straddled Buggy - trying very hard not to sit on him - and looked down. This was something you imagined before, but it was not how you expected it to go. Although Buggy avoided looking at you, choosing to scowl at a random area on the deck instead, the hands holding your hips told you that this is what he asked for

“Cap-”

“Don’t say anything. J-just…just do me this favor.”

He saw you nod in the corner of his eye. He finally relaxed his legs, laying them back down. The hold on your hips tightened and Buggy pressed you down, wanting you to truly be on top of him. You weren’t prepared for the hard object beneath you or for it to press back when you made contact. You jumped in surprise but Buggy kept you in place. Finally, he looked at you. His eyebrows were pulled into a frown and his jaw was tight. As expressive as the pirate clown was normally, this was one expression you couldn’t decipher. There was the usual frustration, but also embarrassment - or was it fear? - and want.

You let his hands ease you back down on to the erection trapped in his pants, sighing as it sat snuggly against you. Buggy’s hands kneaded your hips as he hissed at the feeling. While his grasp was gentle when he held your hand, the way he squeezed your body was not the same. He clung to you as if you were the last match in a dark room. Something he desperately needed. Something that would grant all his wishes.

Buggy’s cock felt so hard that it was almost painful just sitting on it. When his hands began to pressure your hips back and forth, you welcomed the movement and rocked in time with his hold. Whenever he throbbed against your body, you returned the gesture by pressing into him more. You knew Buggy enjoyed that sensation by how he groaned and moved underneath you in ecstasy. It was mesmerizing and you wanted more. Leaning forwards, you placed your hands on Buggy’s chest and angled your hips so that you could grind yourself against his entire length.

The unexpected pressure eased a low moan from the pirate. His eyes had been fluttering but now they opened wide to watch you. Fucking beautiful. That’s all Buggy could think at the moment. Your head was tilted back in bliss while little moans and whimpers slipped from your mouth. The way you worked your body on his, driving your hips against his cock, was far better than any meteor shower. Buggy felt himself get closer to the edge thinking about how your cunt was so close. Only a few measley layers of fabric kept him from ramming himself into your wet heat and fucking you until you saw stars.

You noticed that his cock was becoming needier by the moment, throbbing and twitching below you. Rolling your hips, you rubbed your clit against his hardness. The sensation rocked through your body, a terrible side effect of the delicious feeling which left you weak. Eager to chase the climax that was close, you wanted to ask your captain for help. Before you could get a full word out, your head was pulled backwards. A disembodied hand was entangled in your hair, drawing you into an arch. The change in position left your mouth open, but the tension prevented you from saying anything more. Unable to keep pressure on your clit, you felt the climax ebb away.

“S-shhhh, n-not a word,” Buggy groaned.

He knew he took advantage of his position as your captain and couldn’t bear to think about what you might say while he was exerting that power. It was cowardly and pathetic, but he was too far gone.

Although Buggy still had one hand on your hip, he started bucking against you. His movements were forceful and sloppy. When Buggy gasped and his hips stuttered, you knew that he reached his end. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to imagine the lewd face he must be making. What his cock looked like releasing each stream of jizz. How it would feel in your cunt. Or in your mouth. What his cum tastes like.

Once Buggy stilled underneath you, he finally loosened his grip on your hair. Breathlessly, you looked at the flushed, panting, pirate before you. As the heat from Buggy’s climax dissipated and the load in his pants began to cool and clump together, he felt ashamed and sick of himself. He could barely look you in the eyes again. Giving into his cowardice, Buggy tried to ease you off of him before resorting to his devil fruit ability when he couldn’t quickly detangle your bodies.

“Wai-”

“Thanks.” Buggy spoke over you, still afraid to hear what you might say. What you might regret. He awkwardly picked his gloves off the floor before leaving, opting to have his feet walk away while the rest of his body floated. He already felt like shit and feeling the cold globs of sadness in his pants rub against him wouldn’t help.

And that’s where you finished the rest of your guard duty that night. It gave you plenty of time to think about what happened and analyze. And overthink. And overanalyze. That was an awful way to leave someone after using them like some sort of fuck toy. But…there was a part of you that liked it. He clearly wanted you. Or part of you. And you found that exciting.

Based on how Buggy practically fled the scene, you weren’t sure how things would be tomorrow. Still you couldn't help but think about what could have happened if you spoke up. What you wish happened instead.

#buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x you #buggy op #opla buggy #one piece buggy #buggy the clown #buggy smut #buggy the clown smut #one piece smut #x reader

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gh0stsp1d3r · 11 months

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Could you do a Miguel O’Hara x wife!spider reader, when he lost his daughter he lost her too until they meet during the start of spider society, and he’s smitten with her and they have a baby who’s friends with mayday and she calms down Miguel when he starts to get anger at miles and guides miles. Also to see he’s smitten with her and their baby who is Gabriella.

I don’t know if this is what you meant but hopefully it is (:

My Spanish is prolly shitty because I don’t remember junk from Spanish class but I tried 😭 correct me if anything’s wrong cause I only speak fluent English and Hindi

His two sweet girls

He tried to find an answer for years on how you survived but Gabriella didn’t, coming up with nothing. He was happy you were alive, of course he was. But he wished Gabriella was with you both.

“Miggie, I think we should have another child.”

“What..? What if I can’t protect them? What if they die just like Gabriella?” He said, voice shaking slightly.

You flinched at his voice, trying to calm him down.

“It’ll be good for us. I love and miss her too. Every single day. And don’t you remember how she said she always wanted a baby sister or brother? You can protect them, because it’s not your fault she died.”

He stayed silent for a while. After a lot more talking and thinking, he agreed.

And that was last year, your baby now a year old, and your marriage stronger than ever.

Your daughter was also friends with Peter B Parker’s baby, Mayday. She played with her a lot, and had spider like powers. She liked to climb walls and ceilings with mayday, making it a chore to watch them both.

One day, Miguel started yelling and getting pissed off while you were trying to put the baby to sleep.

“Miggie.” You said, everyone turning to you. Miles looked in confusion.

“Ay, Vuelve al apartamento, mi amor.”

(Go back in the apartment, my love.)

“Es ese el niño de 1610?”

(Is that the kid from 1610?)

“Sí, por favor solo entra. Estaré callado.” He grew aggravated.

(Yes, please just go inside. I’ll be quiet.)

You sighed, walking towards him. He cocked an eyebrow.

“What are you doing?”

“Quit being so hard on him. He’s a kid.” You handed him your guy’s daughter and he sighed as your baby climbed up on his shoulder, then climbed down and went over to Hobie. Hobie picked her up and started playing with her, which made you laugh quietly.

“Look, Miles, you don’t get it. You can destroy your world if you do this.” He continued.

“You just expect me to let my dad die?”

“I lost my dad. And my daughter. We’ve all lost something, but it makes us who we are. Time heals all wounds.” You said.

He stayed silent for a moment.

“You might feel guilt, but you have to understand that that’s just the sacrifice of being who we are. We all lose somebody, and that’s okay. And you may never get over it, but if you save him, your whole world collapses. Your dad dies, your mom, your friends, the people you care about. They all die because you decided to save him.” You continued, and Miguel silently listened to the whole thing.

“Just.. stay here for two days, kid. Then we’ll let you go.” Miguel said.

He stared at the baby hobie was currently throwing in the air and talking to with admiration and love. He loved his two girls, his two sweet girls, and he wasn’t going to lose them again.

#miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x reader #spider man across the spider verse x reader #spider man across the spider verse

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cevansbrat0007 · 6 days

Text

What's Eating You, Mr. Barber?

Summary: You decide to test your man's patience with a prank you saw on TikTok. CLICK HERE to check out Ari Levinson's reaction to the same prompt.

Warnings: Mature Themes, References to Smut, Andrew Barber Being A Menace, Brat!Reader, TikTok Hijinks, Bickering, Manhandling, Ass Slapping, Daddy Kink, Allusions to Oral Sex, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Prompt brought to you courtesy of a Reader Request. This fic features Andrew Barber from my Growing Pains Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

It’s hard for you to put into words just how much you love playing pranks on your unsuspecting husband. And after downloading TikTok, you’d discovered that the app was home to an online treasure trove of practical jokes designed to make your loved one’s head spin. While it had taken a few days for you to settle on the right prank, you were pretty confident that the one you’d chosen would earn you a fun reaction from Andy without you having to risk your ass in the process.

You find yourself grinning as you take your time prepping dinner, humming a little tune as you peel and press even more fresh garlic for your homemade tomato sauce. Tonight’s family dinner of spaghetti and meatballs promised to be very interesting. Which was why you’d also taken the liberty of setting up two hidden cameras – one in the dining room and one right here in your kitchen.

As of now, you had no plans to post this on your channel. But you also didn’t want to miss a minute of your man’s reaction. Until then all you had to do was play it cool for a couple more hours.

Later that Evening…

“Baby Girl, are you sure you don’t need any help?” Your husband asks after watching you make what easily had to be your third trip from the kitchen into the dining room.

Any other night you would’ve said yes, but not this one. Tonight you were flying solo. The cameras were already on and recording – you’d taken care of that before you’d started setting the table – and so far Andy hadn’t noticed a thing.

Hopefully you’d be able to keep it that way until it was time for the big reveal.

“No thanks, Big Man. This Mama only has to make one more trip and then we’ll be ready to eat.” You tell him before sitting two plates on the table in front of your two youngest children. You were down a kid tonight thanks to your oldest, Bianca, being away at a sleepover.

Andy nods before leaning over to adjust the small hand towel you’d previously tucked into the front of your three-year-old son’s t-shirt. Not that it really mattered all that much since you were positive he’d be swimming in sauce before the meal was over. But what kind of mother would you be if you didn’t at least try?

Biting your lip in anticipation, you scamper back into the kitchen to grab dinner for you and your husband. Andy’s plate was piled high with a generous serving of spaghetti and meatballs. Meanwhile, you give yourself hardly any.

And therein was the so-called prank. Earlier this week, you’d spent the better part of several hours gleefully watching as dozens of girlfriends and wives proceeded to serve their man impressive looking portions before sitting next to them with virtually empty plates for themselves. Many of the reactions had ranged from hilarious to heartwarming, with only a few dickish exceptions.

Glancing over your shoulder to ensure you weren’t being watched, you pick up various pans and quietly place them in your oven and out of sight. For this to actually work, Andy would have to believe that there wasn’t enough for seconds or leftovers. Once that’s done, you square your shoulders and confidently march back into the dining room with dishes in hand.

“I’m back.” You announce, placing a piping hot plate in front of Andy before taking your own seat at the table. “I tried something different with my sauce this time, so everybody dig in and tell me what you think.”

Andy absentmindedly rubs his palms together as he stares down at the fragrant heap of spaghetti before him. Silently, you will him to look over at what you’d served yourself, but you force yourself to remain quiet so as not to give yourself away.

“This smells amazing, sweetheart.” Your husband tells you, reaching for a piece of garlic bread. “I’ve been excited for this meal since you told me you texted me at 10:00am.”

“Glad to hear it, Daddy” You pick up the little bowl of parmesan you’d set out and hand it to your middle daughter, Katrina. “What does everybody else think?”

You take a brief glance around the table while you wait for feedback. And although you make a point of not looking at your husband, it’s impossible to miss the way he’s now staring at your nearly empty plate.

“Ooh.” You inwardly squeal, stopping just short of clapping your hands. “It’s starting!”

“What’s up with this?” His tone is rife with confusion, which only grows when you decide to ignore him in favor of dipping a small piece of bread into some sauce. “Hey – stop!”

“What?” When you finally deign to return his gaze. You have to choke back a laugh as you watch a bewildered Andy comically gesture between your two plates.

“What the fu–fudge,” he swiftly corrects, “is going on with your plate?”

“What do you mean?” You aim to keep your tone light and breezy.

Your husband lets out a frustrated sigh. “Where’s the rest of your food?” He jabs at your plate with his fork, holding up the half of a meatball you’d allowed yourself.

“This was all that was left.” You tell him with a shrug.

“What the hell are you talking about?” His confusion continues to mount even as pauses long enough to grab a napkin to wipe at his son’s increasingly messy fingers. “There was plenty of spaghetti left on the stove.” While he’s occupied you quickly check on little Rory, who appears to be faring slightly better.

“Not really.”

“Baby…” Andy pins you with a knowing look, one that you readily return.

“What? I…” You trail off, pretending to think. “After I realized BiBi wouldn’t be here tonight, I made some adjustments to the recipe. Turns out I didn’t make enough, so…” Another shrug. “This was all there was after I made everyone else’s plates.”

Andy is uncharacteristically quiet as leans back in his chair. Meanwhile, your children are busy staring at you, each of them sporting tiny, furrowed brows. Pursing your lips, you set your fork down on your plate and reach for your drink.

“You can have some of mine, Mama.” KitCat offers before sweetly pushing her plate towards you. The unexpected gesture touches your heart in more ways than one. Not to be outdone, your three-year-old twins also follow suit.

“That’s okay, babies. I’m perfectly fine.” You reassure them, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Besides, this is all I need and –”

“Thanks kiddos.” Your husband kindly interrupts as he places his napkin on the table. “That was very sweet of you, wanting to take care of your Mama like that.” His brilliant blue eyes beam with pride as he speaks. “But Daddy’s got this one.”

You’re momentarily taken aback when he stands, picking up his plate as he does. And you’re even more surprised when he motions for you to do the same.

“Can I see you in the kitchen for a moment?”

“Andrew, sweetheart, it’s okay. I promise.”

“Now, please.” It’s an order, that much you know. But at least your handsome ogre has enough sense to take on the word “please” at the end of it.

“Fine.” You huff before standing and following him out of the room, although not before encouraging your children to keep eating while you’re gone. Just because it was Friday doesn’t mean it was time to dispense their normal bedtime routines.

You were only playing a prank, not embracing total anarchy.

Once in the kitchen, you each take up residence in opposing corners. But of course, you’re careful enough to avoid blocking the view of the camera.

“Baby Girl.” Andy exhales, his fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Do you really mean to tell me that there’s no food left? You really made all that pasta and there’s nothing?”

“Yes, Andrew.” You lie without missing a beat. “I already told you. I trimmed down the recipe because –”

“Because Bianca is gone. Yes, I heard you.” He sets his dish down on the counter, openly scrutinizing it.

“So then what’s the problem?” You rest your back against your pantry while you wait for him to respond.

“The problem – my problem –” Andy is quick to amend, shaking his head. “– is that you expect me to sit back and watch you starve while everyone else eats. And I don’t like it.” He scrubs a weary hand over his beard. “Hand me your plate, beautiful.”

“Why?” It’s impossible to keep the suspicion out of your voice.

“Because I don’t need all of this.” He grunts, taking the plate out of your hands when you don’t comply fast enough. “In fact, I don’t need any of it. You eat and I’ll order myself a pizza after we put the kids down.”

“Andy!” You scoff, which comes out on the heels of a laugh.

“What?” The man is clearly confused by your dismissal of his offer. “I am capable of handling myself, okay? My hands work just fine.” He grates out, making a show of holding up a large, lightly calloused palm.

“But I…I made that plate for you.” You were seconds away from caving and you both knew it.

“And I’m telling you, my wonderful wife, that I want you to have it.”

“Oh, you really don’t have to –” You begin, wrapping your arms around yourself. It was time to fess up.

“Fine.” Andy breathes, taking a second to roll his broad shoulders. “Then we’ll split it.” He reaches for your hand, pulling you into his warm embrace so that he can whisper in your ear. “And then, after we put the kids down, we’ll order ourselves a pizza. Maybe open up a bottle of wine while we wait.”

“Yeah?” You murmur, relaxing as you bury your face in his chest.

God, he always smelled so good.

“Mhm.” He continues, nuzzling his nose against your curls. “And then, once we’re all giggly and buzzed, I’ll convince you to let me make love to you in front of the fireplace. We can even set up a booby trap so that we pretend like the children don’t exist.”

“Wow.” You can’t stop the giggle that bubbles its way past your lps. “Andy Bear, that sounds amazing. But I’m afraid I can’t.”

“Why the fuck not?” He rumbles as his brawny arms tighten around your smaller frame. You were pushing your District Attorney beyond his breaking point.

“Because.” Squirming out of his hold, you dance your way towards the oven in preparation for the big reveal. Hopefully your husband would be a good sport about all of this.

“Because?”

“Because…” You draw out the word, even as you go to open the oven to show him what’s inside. “There’s actually plenty of dinner leftover. See?” You throw your arms wide, but force yourself to stop just short of adding spirit fingers because you suspected he wouldn’t appreciate it.

“Baby, I swear…” Andy sighs, his hands slowly sinking into the pockets of his charcoal-colored slacks as he rocks back on his heels. Most likely to keep himself from strangling you, his lovely wife. “Why–what would possess you to lie about something like this?”

“First off, sweetheart, it’s called a prank.” You bridge the gap between your bodies so that you can wrap your arms around his trim waist. “And secondly, I saw it on TikTok. Ever heard of it?”

He glares down at you, which has you instinctively clenching your thighs together. That’s part of the reason you loved riling up your Big Man.

Being a brat got your motor running.

“I take it you have.” You stand on your tiptoes to kiss away his frown. “Well, I fell down the rabbit hole the other day while the kids were napping. There’s this whole, like, subsection that’s just pranks. And the latest one involved these women pranking their guys by serving them a huge plate of food, and then pretending like there’s nothing left for them to eat. The reactions were super entertaining, so I figured I’d test it out, you know? Just for fun.”

You grace him with your most dazzling smile, but unfortunately, he’s still having none of it. His frown only deepens as he tilts his face up towards the ceiling in an effort to summon all of his remaining patience.

“Are you mad?” Your teeth sink into your bottom lip while you wait for his answer.

“Yep.”

“C’mon, Andy Bear!” You pout before placing your hands on his biceps to give him a light shake.”Where’s your sense of humor?”

“Pretty sure I lost it the day you decided torturing me was your new favorite pastime.” He grumbles, although there doesn’t appear to be any heat in his words. “In fact, I have a feeling you just gave me several new grays.”

“Oh, don’t you dare blame me for those.” You tell him, playfully rolling your eyes at his dramatics. “I’ll have you know that you came home with those. I spotted ‘em the moment you walked through the door.” Your sassy response earns you a sharp crack to your ass, making you wince.

“Ow!”

“Brat.” He grouses, even as he presses a sweet kiss to your nose.

“Guilty as charged.” You hum, weaving your arms around his neck. “Besides, I had a feeling you wouldn’t let me starve.”

“Not sure it’s even possible to fail that challenge, Baby Girl. I mean, you’re my wife. My partner in crime. Did you really expect me to just let you go hungry?”

“You’d be surprised.” You mutter, making a mental note to show him a few videos featuring some of the men who’d actually failed the test. “But thankfully you didn’t. And neither did the kiddos. Which is why I will graciously allow you all to sleep inside tonight.”

You let out a tiny yelp when Andy suddenly grabs your ass with both hands, squeezing hard as he lifts you up. Unsure of what else to do, you immediately lock your legs around his waist. Right now you were just going along for the ride.

“Now is that any way to talk to Daddy?” Andy lovingly captures your mouth, lightly stroking his along the seam of your lips. “Especially after you played such a mean trick?” His once clouded blue eyes are now filled with mischief.

“Oh, I’m not sorry. But if it helps, I am willing to delete the video.” Your husband’s eyes go wide, letting you know that he hadn’t even considered the prospect of being recorded. So you keep talking, hoping to distract him. “And I still wanna get you drunk and take advantage of you after we put the children down for the night.” You run your fingers through his neatly coiffed hair, lightly scratching at his scalp with your nail.

“I don’t know if I should trust you.” He eyes you warily, making clear that he still hasn’t quite recovered from your earlier betrayal.

“What if…” You lean in close, lightly nipping at his earlobe. “I could find it in my heart to apologize between then and now? How does that sound, Big Man?”

“I mean I might be interested.” Andy shrugs, gently setting you on the counter before bracing his muscled arms on either side of you. “Out of curiosity, just what kind of apology are we talking about?” He gazes at you with lust-filled eyes, eagerly anticipating your response.

“The kind that’s best offered while on my knees, wearing nothing but a flimsy pair of thigh highs and garters.” You know you’ve got him when you hear him groan low in his throat.

“Fucky, baby.” Your husband hisses, burying his face in the valley between your breasts as his imagination suddenly kicks into overdrive. “Can you be sorry enough to wear the heels too? You know the ones I’m talking about.”

Oh. You knew exactly which ones he was talking about.

“I think so.” You murmur, stroking a tender hand along his back as he struggles to regain his composure.

“Then we’ve got ourselves a deal.” He grips your hips before kindly helping you down. “Now let’s go get those kids fed and off to bed.” Andy grabs your hand, tugging you behind him as you head back to the dining room to see about your babies.

“Slow down, Andrew.” You laugh as your legs scramble to keep up.

“No can do, Baby Girl.” He grunts, picking up his pace. “Daddy’s really looking forward to that apology. So be sure to eat up because…” He trails off when he comes face-to-face with his sauce covered little ones. “...You’re gonna need all of your strength.”

“You can count on it.”

END

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asuyaka · 6 months

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Ok hear me out, Reader is besties with Gojo and Geto and was paired with them to deliver the Star Plasma Vessel(Riko) and Readers notices how the girl's passing seemed to take a toll on Geto the most, so after seeing his decreasing health, both physical and mental, they decided to reach out to him and pull him out of his dark thoughts. Yes I am in denial about the recent chapters, this is how I cope. This man deserves all the hugs in the world😭😭

★ - 'm totally agree! all Satoru had ta do was speak with Suguru 'n JJK probably wouldn't have happened !! <(＿　＿)>

☆ - Teen! Geto Suguru x Male Reader — Can be read as platonic or romantic !!

♡ - Hurt/comfort, suicidal thoughts, and Suguru bein' mildly racist towards non-sorcerers (；′⌒`)

The merging of the Star Plasma Vessel— Riko Amanai— and Tengen went to shit the second Fushiguro Toji came into the picture.

You tried, you tried saving her even though you were scared. No one could touch Satoru, but Toji could. Toji killed him and Riko like it was nothing.

You and Suguru weren't enough, he was too strong. When he killed Rainbow Dragon, Suguru's strongest curse, the reality set in that you two most likely weren't going to make it out alive.

You did, thankfully, but at what cost?

Your quaint little friend group broke up. Shoko was busy learning medical Jujutsu most of the time, Satoru had officially become the strongest and started taking solo missions which left you and Suguru.

But after that day, you noticed something was wrong. Very, very wrong. Suguru had lost weight, his hair which he prided himself in taking care of had split ends and was mildly greasy and he had eye bags.

This also added to the fact that he was coming late to class almost every day sent alarm bells in your head, so you decided to check up on him.

In your home clothes since you didn't have any impending missions and classes were over, you knocked on Suguru's door. He's stopped coming to class the past few days which scared the shit out of you since Suguru doesn't miss class unless it's something serious.

You waited, hoping to hear an answer. When you didn't, you checked the doorknob. It was open so you walked in, announcing yourself just in case Suguru was busy with something.

His room was a mess. The trash can was overflowing, clothes were piled up in a corner and dishes were stacked on the sink.

Suguru was curled up in his bed—which was also a mess, sheets that needed to be washed and his bed was in desperate need of a making— his blanket pulled up to his neck and his body facing away from the doorway.

"Suguru?" You whispered, checking his breathing just in case. It was there and stable, which meant he was just sleeping. You gently tapped on him, noticing the soft tear lines on his cheek.

He had cried himself to sleep.

Suguru stirred as his eyes opened slowly, blinking away the tiredness when he saw your concerned face. "[Name]..? What are you doing here?"

"I came to check on you. You haven't been in class, so I got worried. Are you okay?"

Suguru sat up and rubbed his eyes. He didn't realize he'd been gone for that long, it felt better to stay asleep than wake up. Some days he wished he stayed asleep forever.

"Sorry, I lost track of time." He came up with a lie off the top of his head, hoping you wouldn't question anything and leave him alone.

He knows you though. Knows how empathetic you are, knows how caring you are to the people you love, so it was no surprise when you sat on his bed making yourself comfortable. "Are you okay, Suguru?"

"I told you, I just lost track of time—"

"Suguru..." Your voice was soft as you took his hands into yours. Usually, his were well-manicured and painted black, but now they were long. Suguru hated it when his nails were long, they always got in the way when he was fighting curses. "You don't have to lie to me, you don't have to say anything you don't want to. Please, just tell me if you need help and I'll help you. I won't ask for anything more."

Suguru tensed up. Does he need help? He hasn't felt like himself ever since... everything happened a few months ago. The world felt so grey and he couldn't think of a reason to keep waking up and getting out of bed.

So what if those monkeys needed saving? Sorcerers shouldn't have to put their lives on the line to save people who were barely worth saving.

He feels sluggish. He reeks, his hair feels so greasy and his eyes are heavy. He just wants to lie down and hopefully take his last breath. He can't keep doing this— be a sorcerer that is.

He hates morals, he hates that 'the strong should protect the weak' bullshit, he hates that he wasn't strong enough to protect someone who needed saving, someone who deserved it.

He's so tired. Tired of the Jujutsu world, tired of the fake lies of non-sorcerers, tired of everything.

"...please." He mutters out, his hands slightly squeezing yours and his head hanging in shame.

You nod as you help him up. You don't need to tell him anything right now. If he needs you, if he needs your help, that's all that matters.

You start a bath and help him get undressed, closing your eyes for the sake of his privacy when you got to his boxers.

The water was warm against your legs, and you thanked yourself that you wore shorts instead of sweats. You washed him, taking extra care of his hair to show him you remembered how much he loved it. Show him how much you care about him.

You leave him momentarily to grab clean clothes, settling on an old Mario shirt, black shorts, and a pair of fuzzy white and black socks.

"Do you want to stay here while I clean?" You asked as you tied his hair into a loose ponytail, the smell of his cinnamon shampoo in the air.

Suguru shook his head. He wanted—no— needed to stay close to you. To hold you, to feel someone else's warmth against his. You didn't ask any questions, letting him hold onto your waist as you went to make his bed.

He stayed like that, pressed against you as you sorted his clothes, cleaned his kitchen, swept his floor, helped him take care of his nails, and him made him food.

Suguru doesn't feel like he deserves this. He doesn't deserve you. You're being so patient with him, you aren't judging him for being messy or unclean, you weren't judging the fact that his fridge was almost empty, you were just there.

There for him, to make him feel better.

Suguru feels like he's going to cry.

He's pressed against your chest, hands wrapped around your waist as he listens to you read aloud a book you had brought with you, hands in his hair, scratching his scalp gently.

"...thank you." He mumbles, wiping the wet away from his eyes. He feels so loved, like someone would care if he flat out died.

You smile softly, pressing a kiss against his head. "I'm always going to be here for you Suguru. No matter what."

And for the first time in months, he believes that it's worth it to live. That if he gets to feel you like this, he might stay in the Jujutsu world. All for you— everything for you.

#ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁 — ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴ' ᴍᴀɴɢᴀ #jjk fluff #jjk x male reader #geto suguru #geto x male reader #jujutsu kaisen #male reader #x male reader #002 #⋆｡𖦹 — ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ#★: anon!#geto fluff #suguru x male reader #suguru x you

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 2 months

Note

Yo if the requests are closes ignore this!

Can you do the Housewardens with a fem!Mc wth the powers and personality from Denji from Chainsaw Man? (Like the other one you did)

Please and thank you! <3

I love your writing

Thank you so much! I'll do a few! 🖤🖤🖤🖤

Chainsaw Reader (2) | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

Leona Kingscholar

“I want to touch it so bad!”

“You should stop saying suspicious things so loudly.”

“Why not! Why should I hide that I looove touching your body parts?”

“Just say tail. Please.”

He finds your idiotic and loud personality to be problematic

He’s used to leading muscle-heads in his dorms that are motivated by pride, ego, or even personal gain

But only you

only you would ask to put your hand down his pants for compensation

He doesn’t mind

He just wishes you’d be a tad bit quieter

It also doesn’t help that you’re able to turn into a chainsaw demon

Which is fine, if it didn’t make taming you any easier

But once he’s got the hang of it your time, your attention, and one day your heart belongs to him

“Oi (Y/n), You’re chainsaw form is pretty scary right?”

“Yeah why?”

“Just want to see…will those herbivores be so happy to kiss up to you if you showed them the real you?”

“I dunno.”

“Let’s find out then.”

“What makes you think I’m going to do that?”

“I’ll let you motorboat my pecks.”

“Done.”

He loves when you get rid of the herbivores for him

And puts you on his level of a true predator

Too bad your motivation is just so flimsy

“It’s fine I’ll make it work long enough until they can’t leave.”

Idia Shroud

“Aaaaagghhgh!!! Your like a customizable MMO RPG skin!”

“Gee thanks you - - have skin too?”

“Thanks?”

Is torn between being horrified and beyond enamored

Move aside vampire/werewolf love stories he’s in love with a chainsaw!

When he gets past his initial fear

He dives right into studying

Checking your arms for the scars from your regenerative ability

Or bashedly admiring the drawstring on your chest

“Oh wow….you’re so–your chest is just–”

“Cool? “

“AHEM! Uh yes…the width is very uhm nice!”

He’s also amazed at how little it takes to get your attention

But realizing it he can’t fall behind the others who so easily prop their bodies up as compensation

It does help that he monitors his rivals online activity but still

He’ll beat them

“Sorry Ortho this mission is rated M for mature and this solo mission is going to decide whether I win the chainsaw’s heart!”

“Yay! Good luck brother!”

“Thank you! Now where is that maid outfit?”

#yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yandere x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yanderes #yandere #yandere leona kingscholar #yandere leona x reader #yandere leona kingscholar x reader #yandere idia shroud #yandere idia x reader #yandere idia shroud x reader #yandere idia #yandere leona

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krirebr · 2 months

Text

Welcome to Your Life

Pairing: dark vampire!Steve Rogers x f!reader

Word Count: ~3.75k

Summary: During a drunken night out on vacation, you're brought to a strange club and presented to a mysterious man. Part of Everybody Wants to Rule the World

Warnings: Horror elements, dark elements, mind control, some blood and gore, feeding on humans, captivity, dub/con, SMUT - All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Divider by @saradika

We're All Monsters

Masterlist

A/N: And here it is, the first part of Vampire Steve's solo story! If you missed his introduction, it was in I Can't Sleep Cause My Bed's On Fire. You don't need to read that before you read this, but some of the world-building (specifically how his club works) might be helpful. Plus, it's a vampire threesome, so 🥵🥵🥵

This is also the first part of the new, super-expanded supernatural universe that I'm doing with @paperweight91, playing off of what I started with my Psycho Killer AU. Big thanks to Chelsea for all her help on this and for just how much fun it's been to come up with ideas with her for this whole universe.

Now, where it might get slightly confusing, but I really hope it doesn't. This story introduces a new character, Cutter, who will eventually be a reader in one of Chelsea's stories in her werewolf half of this au. She is not physically described at all here, other than being a woman. I hope it gets you excited about what @paperweight91 has in store for her.

As always, any comments, reblogs, or asks are very appreciated. You know how much I love this Steve. Please come screech with me about him!!!

You were shaking. That was the only thing you knew. You didn’t know where you were or what you were doing there. Not even how you’d gotten there, just that you were standing in the back room of some club, surrounded by people—were they people? Of course, they were. What else could they be?!—unable to move, and you couldn’t stop shaking.

You’d been on vacation with some friends in Berlin. You’d all decided to have a wild night out together but were quickly separated. While tipsily searching for them at a club, you’d bumped into a man, an American, who told you his name was Cole. And suddenly, looking for your friends didn’t seem as important. He’d told you he knew a great bar just a few blocks away. You didn’t really remember agreeing to go with him, but now you were here, in a room full of strangers who wouldn’t stop leering at you. No one had done anything or even said anything, but you knew in your bones that you were not safe. And yet, you couldn’t move.

Cole, especially, wouldn’t take his eyes off you, your neck in particular. You desperately wished for something to cover up your club attire. A woman was leaning against the wall in the corner, sharpening her ridiculously long nails with a knife. She looked up occasionally, and this time her gaze landed on Cole, a scowl on her face. “You know he gets first taste,” she said, before looking back down in disinterest.

“I know,” he said, his fingers drumming impatiently on his thigh.

“Everything has to get his approval before it goes on the menu,” she continued, still not looking up as she filed her nails to a terrifying point.

“Yes,” Cole gritted out, “I know that, Cutter. I’m not fucking new.”

“Then stop acting like you’re jonesing for your next fix. You’re that fucking hungry? Go get yourself something to eat that actually is on the menu.” Nothing they were saying made any sense.

He scowled at her, but started to leave the room, and then, suddenly, stopped. Everyone stopped. Cutter looked up, listening for something, then pushed herself off the wall and made her way over to you. She brushed one of her exceedingly sharp nails over your bottom lip. Looking you in the eye, she breathed, “Kneel, sweetheart.” And you were on your knees before you had any idea what had happened. She smiled at you and added, “Be quiet,” and you knew, in every cell, that you wouldn’t have been able to make any noise if you’d tried.

One of the doors opened and a tall, broad, beautiful man came into the room and you felt the energy of everything change. It was like it was all, yourself included, suddenly charged with electricity. You’d never felt anything like it. He zeroed in on you instantly and made his way over. You felt the instinct to cower, but it was far away, almost like it was behind a wall. And you still couldn’t move anyway. All you could do was shiver.

The man looked at you carefully. “Pretty,” he said, absently. He brushed his thumb over your lower lip just like Cutter had. Then he gripped your chin and angled it up so you were forced to make eye contact. “Give me your wrist,” he said and you couldn’t explain the feeling that moved through your body, only that you reached your wrist up to him, you had to, and waited for him to take it. He took it in his firm grip and placed his thumb right over your pulse point. He pressed down hard and smiled when you still didn’t move, didn’t react. It was like you didn’t know how. And then, something happened, so quickly you couldn’t process it. Fangs descended into his mouth and he lowered his head to your wrist and bit down hard. It was some of the worst pain you’d ever felt, but you didn’t pull away, didn’t make a sound. It wasn’t until you felt the wetness on your cheeks that you even realized you were crying. It was like all the different parts of you were separated.

He pulled his teeth from your wrist and then licked the wound clean. He grinned at you and said, “You have excellent taste in cocktails, honey.” Then he looked over at Cutter and his smile dropped. “She’s still drunk. You should have known better.”

Her mouth fell open, and then she flung her hand out at Cole who stood sheepishly on the other side of the room. “Cole’s the one who brought her in!”

He was in front of her in a blink, the arm that was still in the air now in his firm grasp. She grimaced. “And you know exactly how good his judgment is,” he growled.

“Steve,” she whispered, just barely loud enough for you to hear her.

The man (could you even call him that? Deep down you knew what he was), Steve, brought his face as close to hers as possible. “When I put you in charge,” he said, so lowly, “I expect you to be in charge.”

She just stared at him for a moment meeting his gaze, then dropped her own and nodded. He smiled fondly, you were surprised to see, and kissed her on the cheek. “You know he needs supervision.”

He made his way back to where you were still kneeling, now cradling your arm. He bent down to you slightly and stroked a hand down your neck. “There’s something there, though,” he said, although you weren’t sure who he was talking to. Certainly not to you. “Underneath everything else. I’ll try her again tomorrow and see how she is when the blood’s pure.”

You gazed up at him, confused, and he gripped your chin in his hand. “You may speak,” he said.

“I don’t understand what’s happening,” was all you could manage.

“Oh honey, of course, you don’t,” he said with a grin that frightened you. “The good news is that you’ll never need to understand anything ever again.” He looked back up at the room at large. “Set her up in a room upstairs.” He released your chin and made his way to the exit, pausing as he was almost out the door to call “Cole!” over his shoulder. The other man quickly followed him out of the room.

Cutter came to stand in front of you. She looked you in the eye and said, “Up,” and without thinking, you were on your feet. “Such a good girl,” she cooed. “Follow me,” and suddenly that was all you wanted to do.

The room she took you to was better described as a cell. There was a cot, a toilet, and a sink. No windows. Painted grey. It was tiny. Cutter left as soon as you were inside and you heard the door lock behind her.

You sat down on the bed and closed your eyes. You felt the urge to panic but it was like your body wouldn’t cooperate. Your heart rate stayed steady, your breaths even. You were calm, even if that was the last thing you wanted to be.

These people must have done something to you. People, right. You knew what they were. Every single one of them had stared at your neck. Steve had fangs and he’d literally drank your blood. You knew, even if an hour ago you would’ve sworn that was just fantasy. Vampires. You were being held captive by vampires. What the hell?

There was nothing to occupy your time in here except for your thoughts, so you curled up on the cot and tried to convince yourself that it was all a bizarre dream. Eventually, your exhaustion overtook you and you fell asleep.

You weren’t sure when exactly you woke up. You hadn’t seen a single window since Cole had brought you into the building last night. Because sunlight kills vampires, you thought to yourself, somewhat hysterically. Your memories of the night before were… weird. And not just because you swear someone drank your blood. They were patchy. And yes, you’d been drunk, but not that drunk. Not so drunk that you blacked out small portions of the night. And certainly not so drunk that you hallucinated vampires. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. There was no way out of the cell. Nothing in it that would help you. All you could do was wait for whatever it was that was coming for you.

Sometime later, hours probably, a slit in the door you hadn’t noticed before was opened, and a tray was slid through. Food. You gathered it quickly and sat on the bed. There was a carton of water and a plate with a large salad that was mostly made up of spinach and lentils. Iron-rich food, your mind supplied. The previous night seemed more and more real.

.You thought about refusing the salad, but you were so hungry, so you ate it. It was surprisingly good, but not what you would have chosen for what would probably be your last meal. You lay back down when you were finished, curled up on your side, and daydreamed of something more satisfying than a spinach salad.

More time passed. You stared at the walls and tried not to freak out. You wondered if your friends had made it back to the hotel. How long it took for them to realize you were missing. Were the police searching for you? Did your family know? You couldn’t help it when the tears started. You were pretty sure you were going to die here.

You dozed in and out for who knows how long. And then the door opened. Steve walked in with Cole behind him, carrying a chair. You jolted up and pressed yourself into the wall. “Stop,” Steve said, and everything did. “Calm down,” and you felt everything in your body slow. Suddenly, you couldn’t access whatever it was that you’d been so scared of. So you sat still and watched him.

Cole handed Steve the chair and he placed it in front of your cot. He sat down and looked at you. His gaze made you feel so small. He reached out his hand and brushed the backs of his fingers against your knee. A chill ran up your spine, not just fear, but an excitement too, that you couldn’t explain. “Give me your other wrist,” he said, lowly, and you immediately did. He took it in his hand and brought it up to his nose, forcing you to lean forward. He inhaled deeply. “Much better,” he said. “You’re all sobered up now, aren’t you?”

You didn’t respond. You knew, deep inside yourself, that he didn’t want you to. His fangs dropped and you braced yourself, something in the far recesses of your mind knowing that you should be scared. With a slight grin, he sank his teeth into your wrist. The pain was just as bad as the night before but soon, so much quicker than the last time, it was over and Steve was pulling away, his eyes still locked on you.

“Shit,” he breathed.

“What?” Cole asked, from his place by the door. “She’s that bad?”

“No,” Steve growled. “She tastes like sunshine.” He stood up and leaned over you, running the back of one finger across your cheek. “Precious thing.”

You looked up at him and blinked. “Please,” you said, “please, I want to go home.”

“No, honey,” he cooed, so gently, “you’ll never go home again.” As you tried to process that through the fog, he turned to Cole. “Put her in my private reserves. I’ll have her for dinner.” And then he was out of the room.

Cole looked at you, a pout on his face. “Goddamnit,” he grumbled, “I’ve been waiting for a taste.”

“You’re gonna bite me, too?” you asked, alarmed.

He sighed. “Not anymore. I’d rather not face the true death, thanks.” He looked you in the eye. “Come with me.”

You felt something move through you at that. There was definitely a strong urge to obey that you wouldn’t resist, but it was nothing like what you felt with Steve, or even Cutter, where it was like your body was on strings. It wasn’t a huge weakness, but you were taking note of everything at this point.

Cole took you through a long series of hallways that you couldn’t hope to keep track of. Cole talked the whole way, mostly inane bits about his frustrations with the pecking order in whatever vampire organization this was. You marveled for a moment at the fact that you were describing something to do with mythical monsters as inane. Finally, just as you arrived at a door not dissimilar to the one you’d just come out of, he concluded with “You’re a really good listener.”

You gaped at him. What did he think was happening here? He’d targeted you, done something to you to bring you here where you were trapped and probably going to die and he thought you cared that he didn’t feel respected enough by his fellow monsters???

But staying alive right now was your primary concern, so you just quietly said, “Thank you,” and let him show you into the room.

It was much bigger than the cell, but still small, along the lines of a spacious walk-in closet. There was a plush rug under your feet, a deep rose color. A four-poster bed was to one side covered in a big, fluffy comforter that was in a lighter shade of dusty pink and piled with pillows to match. The far wall was entirely made of mahogany built-in bookcases that were completely full of books. There was a soft-looking armchair in the corner by the shelves. You turned back to Cole and asked, “What is this?”

“It’s your room,” he said with a smile. He looked you in the eye. “Now,” he said, and you felt his words travel through your body. He pointed at a door without breaking eye contact, “that’s your bathroom. You’re going to use it now to get very clean and smooth. There are lotions you’ll use after to make yourself soft. There are things in there,” he pointed to a beautiful armoire in the corner, “for you to change into when you’re done. Steve will be back in a few hours and you will be ready for him. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you said, your voice coming out of you without any conscious thought or effort, “I’ll be ready for Steve.”

“Good girl,” he said, and gently patted your cheek. He stood awkwardly, watching you, but now that the command was in you, you were focused on getting to the bathroom so you could get clean. He was in your way.

“I have to get ready for Steve,” you told him, your voice sounding oddly robotic to your own ears.

Cole blinked at you and then sighed. “Right,” he said, sounding almost forlorn. He stared at you again and then shook his head. “I’ll see you again soon,” he said, stroking one hand down your arm. And then he finally left.

It was the most luxurious shower of your life.

When you came out of the bathroom, clean, smooth, and more moisturized than you’d ever been, you opened the armoire to find a small collection of slips in different sizes hanging in it. You found the one that would fit you best and put it on. It was black, a combination of silk and lace. It felt expensive against your skin. You searched the drawers, and next to a collection of silk briefs, you found a pair of black lace panties that would work for you.

Once you were dressed (or as dressed as you were going to be with what was available), you moved to the bookshelves. They were chock full of every genre and category you could think of. Vaunted classics next to dime store romances. Shakespeare collections and airport schlock. You ran your fingers across the spines, when, suddenly, from behind you–

“If there’s something you particularly enjoy, let me know and I’ll have someone get it for you.”

You spun around to find Steve just inches from you. You hadn’t heard a noise when he’d come in. There was a coldness emanating from him that made goosebumps rise along your flesh. Your breath caught and he grinned. You inhaled and asked, “You aren’t going to kill me?”

He laughed. “Oh no, Sunshine. You’re too delicious. I’m going to be feeding from you for a long, long time.”

You tried to back up, but the wall of bookcases blocked you. You pressed yourself into it anyway. He opened his mouth and you hurried to say “Please don’t make me calm down!”

His eyes narrowed and he tilted his head to the side. “Explain,” he commanded and you were obeying before you even registered the word.

“I don’t know what you’re doing to me, but I feel it when you tell me to do things. And I– I don’t know. I don’t know.” You wanted to obey, every part of you was trying, but you had no vocabulary for any of what this was. So you were left chanting, “I don’t know,” over and over.

“Stop,” he said, and of course, everything did. “You can feel it?” he asked. “The compulsion? You actually feel it move through your body?”

The word was new to you, but you knew what he meant. You nodded and he hummed. “Oh, you are very interesting, aren’t you, pet?”

You didn’t say anything to that, just watched him warily. He gave you a sharklike grin that sent chills down your spine and said “Now, calm down.”

And just like before, you felt everything inside you slow. Your body sagged a bit against the shelves, no longer trying to push your way through them.

“There,” he said, cupping your face in his large hand. “Isn’t that better, little pet?”

He guided you to the armchair and sat down in it, pulling you onto his lap. You could feel the supernatural strength in his thighs as you settled on top of him, sidesaddle, as he took all of your weight without any reaction at all. He scratched his thumbnail down your jugular and you closed your eyes. “It hurts,” you said, your tone surprisingly flat for how afraid of all this you’d been just a moment before.

“Hmm?” he questioned, as he nuzzled his nose along your throat.

“When you bite me,” you said, still so calm, “it hurts so much.”

“Oh, is that all?” he asked and you could hear the smile in his voice. “Don’t worry, Sunshine, I’ll make it feel just as good for you as it will for me.”

With that, he moved one of his hands in between your legs, slowly sliding it up your thigh. His face was fully in the crook of your neck when he mumbled “Feel this,” and you felt the command vibrate through your whole body. The calmness that had flattened you faded away and you let out a little whine when his hand reached your mound. He pushed your panties to the side and slid his fingers between your folds. You gasped as he quickly found your clit, tracing slow lazy circles around it. You tried to grind down onto his hand and you felt him huff a laugh into your neck. His tongue darted out, licking a wide stripe all along your vein. You let out another whine, so desperate this time.

He chuckled again. “I was going to make you get wet for me,” he said, as his fingers began to prod at your hole gently, his thumb still working at your clit, “but I don’t need to, do I? Or at least, not with my voice.” He was right, you were already soaking, and there was no resistance as he slipped one finger inside of you. You squirmed against his hand and he added another finger.

His mouth was still on your neck, lapping and nipping at your jugular, but he hadn’t sunk his teeth in yet. He scissored his fingers for a moment, stretching you so good that you cried out before he added a third. They stroked inside your walls, looking for your spot. He found it and you threw your head back.

“Come on,” he growled, “give me what I need.” He curled his fingers, scraping against that place inside you just right. You screamed as you were thrown over the edge of your orgasm and that’s the moment he finally sunk his fangs into your neck. You felt it, you did. The pain was just as intense as before but mingled with some of the strongest pleasure you’d ever felt, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Your body spasmed around his fingers as he loudly sucked from your neck. You swore that you could feel the blood rushing to both places. You babbled as you coasted along the waves of your orgasm, feeling like it would never end. Even as the aftershocks quieted and slowed down, his mouth was still latched to your neck, taking what he needed from you. Your body was fully collapsed into his now. Everything offered up for the taking.

Finally, his teeth left you and he gently licked the blood from your skin. He slowly removed his fingers from you and you whined at the emptiness. He brought them up to your lips. “Clean up your mess,” he commanded and your mouth dropped open without thinking. He slid his fingers in and you swirled your tongue around them. You tasted yourself, sweet and musky, as you sucked him clean. He pulled them out with a soft pop and wiped them on the bodice of your slip.

You looked at his face. He still had your blood on his lips. You felt the odd urge to kiss him but didn’t have the chance as he pushed you off his lap. Your knees buckled, too weak to stand. He laughed gently, like you might at a cute animal that was struggling, as he lifted you into his arms and carried you to the bed. He laid you down and tucked you in. “Rest up, Sunshine,” he cooed, and your body did as it was told, quickly sinking into sleep. “I’ll be back for more soon.”

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charliedawn · 1 year

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Alright alright, I worked up the courage to ask about Star Wars. Can I get a How they would kiss you preference for Star Wars? Aniken and Han Solo and any characters you might want.

Anakin :

The first time you kissed Ani, it was on the return of one of his missions and someone had told you that he had been hurt during said mission. You hadn't wasted a single second before climbing aboard ship before it even reached the ground, praying that Anakin was alright.

You found him in the medical bay, laid down on a bed and your heart missed a beat. You stepped forward to hold his hand and stroked the back of his hand with your thumb.

"Come on, Ani...Wake up. For me. Please."

You then kissed him, unaware of what was going on in Anakin's head—since you weren't force sensitive.

In Anakin's head :

'Play unconscious. Play unconscious. Play unconscious. Don't laugh. Don't freak out. It's not like Y/N is kissing you right now. They're going to be so mad when they discover it was a prank.'

And then, as if the force itself had summoned him, Obi-Wan stepped in and stopped dead in his tracks before eyeing the both of you suspiciously.

"What are you doing ?", he asked before folding his arms over his chest in disapproval. You suddenly took a step back and threw your hands in the air.

"It's...It's not what it looks like !", you tried to defend yourself—but Obi-Wan shook his head before looking straight at Anakin.

"Not you. You. Get up, Anakin.", he told him and you frowned in incomprehension, until Anakin started talking that is.

"Can't, master. I'm playing dead."

Your eyes grew wide and you were seriously debating on whether to be overjoyed by the fact that he was alright, or kill him yourself.

"No, you're playing the idiot. Now, get up.", Obi-Wan said knowingly and Anakin rolled his eyes before finally sitting up.

Obi-Wan sighed before walking away.

"You have five minutes."

The moment he was out, you glared at Anakin who addressed you a cheeky wink before asking.

"Sooo...You were worried, huh ?"

You restrained an eye roll before wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Ani...You are the biggest jerk in all the galaxy. And I'm mad at you. And it doesn't make any sense. But, I still love you."

You then kissed him again and he smiled at your words. He knew he was a fool, but it felt so good to be your fool—he would gladly spent an eternity being yours.

"If that's how you kiss all jerks, I'll gladly be the king of jerks."

You shook your head in disbelief before hitting his chest playfully. You then both burst into laughter and he took your hand before you left the ship to go home.

Anakin is passionate and playful. He'd do anything for a smile. And even when you're mad at him, he'd find a way to make you laugh and indulge into giving him what he wants.

He would have his kiss, no matter what.

Han Solo :

You were one of the Rebel fighters and had met Han Solo when he was trapped on wookie territory. The Rebellion had sent you on a rescue mission and boy, were you skillful with a blaster.

He immediately noticed you and since then, had been unable to stay away.

Finally, he confessed his love for you just as he was on a mission to go stop Darth Vader.

"Hey, Y/N...I might not make it. So...Just wanted to let you know that I love you and try not to cry too hard if I..."

He wanted to reassure you, but he knew that the mission would be dangerous and decided to be honest with you. But, he didn't plan on you—grabbing him by the back of the neck to kiss him before he could utter another word. Not that he was complaining. But, he was actually trying to be a gentleman.

"Make sure you do.", you told him and Han blinked twice before chuckling nervously.

"Yeah...I'll do that."

He then went aboard his ship and you smiled before grabbing Chewbacca's hand before he also went inside after him.

"Bring our Han back in one piece, alright ?"

Chewbacca let out a loud roar in agreement before pulling you into a hug and you smiled—hiding your tears into his fur. You knew the mission would be dangerous, you weren't delusional. But, you were certain Han would be back. He had promised you afterall and Chewbacca seemed to believe the same. You stayed there until the Millennium Falcon was out of sight before returning to your duties.

A few days later :

When they returned, you ran into Han's arms and he gratefully accepted the rain of kisses you had in store for him. He had missed you too. He was so glad he could come back to you and blinked his tears away. He didn't think he would make it, but damn...He was mighty glad he did.

Han is into long and deeply heart-felt kisses. He may seem like the flirtatious and quick kisses type of man. But, he likes knowing someone is waiting for him. Once he has accepted you in his heart, he's not leaving your side and would spend hours kissing you if he could.

Poe Dameron :

Poe had been held captive for so long, it was a shock when he suddenly reappeared and you dropped everything to run and wrap your arms around him. He chuckled and held you even closer while he peppered your face with kisses, trying to stop your tears.

"Ssh...I'm here. I'm here."

You had been so afraid he'd be gone for good this time, your legs gave under you, but Poe kept you steady. He cupped the back of your head and kept you close to him while he thanked his luck star he got another moment with you.

Poe is a pretty passionate guy. He is also often on a ship, flying into danger. So, every moment counts. He wouldn't lose any time and kiss you and embrace you every chance he gets—knowing it might be his last.

Kylo Ren :

"You...wish to kiss me ?", Kylo Ren suddenly stated when you were both alone—reading your mind easily.

You sighed. Of course...

"Is that wrong ?", you asked—completely unashamed. It wasn't like you could hide anything from him. You thought he was a good leader in his good days (an awful one on his bad ones) and didn't see the point in trying to hide it. He seemed almost surprised for a second before answering you.

"Not to my knowledge. The human body has very unpredictable needs and I recall that the act of kissing is one of them...However...", he frowned slightly before adding. "I also recall that the act is to show affection to loved ones. So, why would you wish to partake in such an activity with me ?"

You shrugged.

"Because you are the only one who wouldn't be disgusted by the scars."

He tilted his head quizzically at you before you sighed and removed your helmet—showing him your old battle scars.

"Crenian acid. The Crenians can be quite creative with their torture methods. The acid slipped through my armor and disfigured me for life."

Kylo stayed silent while examining your features with attention. You did have red angry scars almost identical to his...but far numerous and even though he knew better than to judge, you wouldn't be considered pretty in any beauty standards he knew of.

But, he smiled.

Good. Because, he didn't like pretty.

He took a step forward and slowly reached for your chin to raise it in order for your eyes to meet. You eyes were a sight to behold though...Dark and magnetic. He could easily read your mind, but even if he did...There was always something he would miss—something he couldn't quite grasp.

"Do you really want this ?", he asked—even though you had thought about it for a long time and you nodded.

That's all the encouragement he needed.

He crashed his lips onto yours and muffled all sounds you could have made. He swallowed them and took pride in taking you by surprise.

Kylo Ren is possessive and quite violent in his kisses. He's not nice or sweet. But, he can be when he wants to...which is almost never. But sometimes, Ben would resurface and kiss you sweetly when he knows that you can't handle the other one. There'd be a constant battle within him and not only about the force—but about you as well.

Armitage Hux :

"What do you want, soldier ?! Why call me to this floor when there are so many officers that could..?!"

"General Hux...I believe I want to kiss you.", you interrupted him and general Hux' eyes grew wide in shock. You had been close at the academy...But, he never thought...

"What ?"

"I want to kiss you.", you repeated and general Hux's jaw went slack in disbelief for a couple of seconds before he shook his head to regain his composure.

"You want to kiss me so badly, you'd really risk losing your life ?", he finally asked and you replied with a daring smirk—even though you were terrified inside.

"And what if I am ?"

He huffed a mocking laugh before shaking his head again.

"Then, you are insane. You are a stormtrooper. You shouldn't desire anything.", he reasoned and turned around to step away.

"Then, tell me, general...How come I desire you ?", you shot back.

He stopped dead in his tracks and gave you a quizzical side glance. You smiled and reached forward for his hand before wrapping it around your wrist and positioning his thumb above your pulse point. You wanted him to feel it...feel what you've always felt around him.

"How come...general ?", you repeated softly—but with more insistance this time around as he seemed genuinely puzzled. He raised his other hand to wrap his fingers around your throat and feel the pulse there too...As if trying to decipher if you were being serious, or just tricking him into believing someone could ever want him...

"A default in your programming. A mere illusion that you are playing yourself to comfort your lonely nights..."

But, he didn't pull away. Seems like someone did have lonely nights as well...You leaned forward and he didn't stop you. When you lips touched, he let out a small gasp before holding you tightly against him. There was no logical explanation, no possible reasoning, none whatsoever as to why Hux suddenly felt the need to hold you...But, he did.

And, when you were the one who pulled back, you could see the flicker of disappointment in his eyes. But, he quickly got back his composure and stood up straight—a single strand of his red hair out of place the only proof of what you had just done.

"D...Dismissed."

He had trouble uttering the command and you smiled before finally agreeing. You wouldn't tell him how your heart was thrashing in your chest, threatening to jump out of your ribcage. He probably already knew from the moment you kissed, hence the small gasp of surprise.

What you didn't know was how general Hux himself became red in the face the moment you were out and tried to cover it—stabilizing himself by supporting himself on the back of a chair. One more minute and he would have melted right in front of you.

General Hux hides his emotions from sight, it doesn't mean he doesn't have any. He'd give you quick and sweet kisses when no one is looking and give you smiles only you could witness.

Obi-Wan Kenobi :

To be honest, you weren't prepared for the first time you kissed Obi-Wan. He had pulled you from the crowd because he needed a native to escape the many stormtroopers and you had agreed to pretend being his wife/husband for a while—not to raise suspicion. You were an ally to the jedi cause and had tried to help him the best you could.

However, a stormtrooper had eventually cornered you in a dark alley and with no exit. He had asked you for your papers, but Obi-Wan didn't have any. Thankfully, your papers could suffice if you were considered family,but the stormtrooper was suspicious and refused to just drop it. You saw Obi-Wan touch the handle of his lightsaber. But, instead of alerting the others of your presence by killing the stormtrooper—you had another idea and suddenly pulled Obi-Wan by the collar to clash your lips against his.

The stormtrooper wanted to speak, but Obi-Wan raised a finger—as if asking him to wait for a minute while he kissed you back. The stormtrooper coughed and looked away. He really hadn't expected it and you smirked. At least now, he had proof you were together and you wiped your lips with a cheeky wink at the soldier before walking past him.

"That's my wife/husband.", Obi-Wan uttered with a dreamy smile—a slight note of disbelief in his tone before the stormtrooper let out a small snort at his words.

"....Lucky you."

Obi-Wan nodded in agreement before attempting to comb his hair back with his fingers. He then walked past the stormtrooper as well and that was how you succeeded in escaping inspection...and you became Obi-Wan's partner.

It is against the Jedi code to form such romantic attachments, but Obi-Wan was ready to bend the rules for you. You made him want to brave the Jedi council and anyone who would dare say that your love wasn't right.

His kisses would be the symbol of that, genuine, true and open. You wouldn't try to hide your love, no matter what...Because it is pure and beautiful.

Darth Vader :

It was at a time when you thought you could bring back your old Anakin. You had followed Darth Vader in an attempt to make him see reason, but the day he decided to kill the children...that was the day you decided enough was enough.

You stood in his way and gave him an ultimatum.

If he was to hurt them, he would have to step over your cold dead body. You loved him and you knew better than to side with the jedi, but you wouldn't let him kill the kids. It didn't feel right. But, you didn't expect it when he lit his lightsaber and the terrible red hue made the children scream in terror behind you. You stayed put while Darth Vader wondered what he should do with you. Anakin used to be so fond of you, but there was no place for such affection in his heart no longer.

But, you still wanted to try.

You took a step forward and pleaded with tears in your eyes.

"Please, Ani...Don't do this. I love you."

The words he had dreamt of hearing so many times before—mere buzzing in the background of this uncontrollable anger he felt growing inside of him now. You knew words wouldn't be enough, so you raised your hands to gently cup his cheeks and place a tender kiss on his lips. You thought it would be enough, that he would feel your love in this kiss...And, maybe he did.

But, it was far from enough.

"...How dare you ?"

His words cut your breath short as he pushed you away with the force and you landed on the floor, your whole body shaking in pain as he screamed.

"HOW DARE YOU SAY THOSE WORDS NOW ?! YOU LET THEM CAST ME ASIDE ! I WAITED SO LONG FOR YOU TO CONFESS THE SAME LOVE I FELT FOR YOU, AND YOU DO IT NOW ?! AND FOR WHO ?! FOR WHAT ?! NOT FOR ME ! TO SAVE THOSE PITIFUL JEDI !"

He raised his hand towards the children huddled together in a corner and you forced yourself to stand up again and stand in front of them.

"They are only children, Ani...Please..."

He saw the desperation in your gaze, but shook his head.

"It's too late, Y/N. You are too late.", he told you and your eyes widened at the clear accusation in his words. He was holding you as responsible for what he had become than the rest. And when his lightsaber raised in the air, you uttered a loud scream of frustration before drawing out your own lightsaber—your two weapons clashed against each other and showed you each other's faces.

You were scared of what you saw in his eyes, and so did he. His eyes softened for just a second at your tear-strained face and the hatred there. You hated that you loved him, you hated that it was too late and most of all, you hated your own powerlessness as you could only watch the love of your life fall into a pit of darkness without you...You wished your heart couldn't see right from wrong, but it did. And this...this was wrong.

"A—!" You tried to talk again, but he turned his head away. Anakin was dead. You should know that. So, why ? Why do you keep holding on to a memory ? But he took a step back and only glared at the children behind you before sighing in defeat.

"Go. Take the children with you. Before I do something I regret."

His voice was cold and commanding. You held back your tears before walking away. You couldn't stay, not if you wanted the children to survive.

"I'll come back for you.", you whispered.

Another empty promise that you both knew there was no way you could hold. But, he still gave you a weak smile and nodded knowingly before the door closed behind you.

"No. You won't..."

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fairyofshampgyu · 1 year

Text

Now Live: Stream 4

Genre: smut, camboy au, college au, crack

Pairing: camboy! Beomgyu x gn reader (afab when smut)

Warnings: camboy, sub! beomgyu, dom! reader, solo beomgyu, vibrating cock ring, voyeurism

Synopsis: Every Thursday night at 8pm, you tune into your favourite camboy: Angel313. What you don’t know is he even goes to the same uni as you, is in the same class as you and is Choi Beomgyu, the campus fuckboy but will you keep his secret?

Word count: 2.9k

“Wait so you used to watch my streams all the time?” Beomgyu looks at you all cocky as you both walked to the uni’s concert hall, music sheets in both your hands of the arrangements you had finally finished to show the ensemble to play. “That’s so adorable. I appreciate my fans so much, I really do.” He presses his hand to his chest dramatically.

“Shut up.” You elbow his side, causing the music sheets in his hand to fall on the ground in the chilly and windy breeze.

“Owww. Hey! You should help me pick those up!”

You don’t, carrying on strolling as he speedily grabbed the sheets, racing to walk beside you again.

“What was your username, come on tell me. Don’t be embarrassed.” He looks at you with a shit eating grin.

“I’m not telling you.”

“Come onn! I think I deserve to know!”

“No.”

“But-”

“-No.”

“Why not?!”

You give it some thought whether you should tell him or not but he probably would never let it go if you didn’t. Sighing, you decide to just let it out. “I was…user seggsysax…”

Beomgyu bursts into a fit of laughter in disbelief, “You were seggsysax?!” He can’t stop laughing and you just stand, staring at him with a deadpan gaze. “I always see your username in every single one of my lives! Even from the very start! Wow. Thank you for being such a loyal fan.” He laughs even more, “I thought your username was weird though.”

You roll your eyes, slightly embarrassed. “I play saxophone! And…it’s sexy? I don’t know I just came up with anything! Will you stop laughing?!” But beomgyu looks like he’s about to hurtle to the ground any second.

You make it to the concert hall, waiting for the other musicians to start coming in. Strings, woodwind, brass, and percussionists to sit in their assigned positions, you and beomgyu handing out the scores on the music stands.

“Hello! I’m Beomgyu and this is Y/n. We’re the two organisers of the music department’s Christmas performance this year.” Beomgyu introduces you both cheerily once everyone settles in and begins to explain what will be happening.

And then you all start practicing and learning the pieces, you and beomgyu taking it in turns to conduct and play and telling them how certain sections should sound like. It was already beginning to come together and was already sounding great.

You were actually pretty excited about it, people coming up to praise you both on how you’ve arranged it after it had finished and you and beomgyu giving each other a little fist bump once they all left.

“So, you’re gonna be my manager or whatever then? What are you even gonna do?” Beomgyu asks, both of you at his place, sitting on his comfy bed after practice to discuss your earlier proposition.

“Well, since I’ve watched a lot of camboys and have been part of your audience, I could give you input and ideas on what other watchers would want and like so we can make more money. I could also help you film everything since it must be hard trying to film it yourself and I’ll monitor what people comment and what gets you more tips.” You shrug your shoulders.

“Alright then. Interview’s over. Sure, you’re my manager now I guess. Why do you want to though anyway?”

“Because I am broke as hell and couldn’t find any part time jobs and this doesn’t seem that bad. Why did you start being a camboy?”

“I’m also broke and need to pay off my college tuition.” Beomgyu shrugs his shoulders, “I stumbled across a camboy once and thought hey! I can make money at home just jerking off so…”

You nod, “Yeah, you’re good at it.”

He smiles at your praise, eyes scrunching into little crescent moons and cheeks blushing, “Thanks!” Clearly, he likes compliments. It’s kinda really cute. You clear your head at the last comment-Off topic, off topic.

“So…why don’t we try out and film something now?” You suggest nonchalantly.

“What? Like, right now?” Beomgyu’s eyes pop out his sockets.

“Yeah if you want to”

“O-okay. Y-yeah, yeah...”

He gives you your phone so you can set everything up, putting it on the tripod and angling the cameras to one of his bare walls, ready to stream. “What should I do?” Beomgyu asks shyly.

“I don’t know. Do you have somewhere where you keep all your toys and stuff?”

So he goes to his wardrobe, getting a pink box at the back and opening it for you to look at a variety of little vibes, dildos, plugs and many other things. Your eyes catch a vibrating cock ring you’ve never seen before.

“Oh I haven’t seen you use that before.” You point at it.

“Yeah I got it recently.”

“Do you wanna use it today? I bet the viewers would go crazy. It’s pretty.”

“Y-yeah okay then.” Beomgyu’s voice suddenly sounding mouse-like.

Beomgyu starts changing out of his clothes to put on his usual thigh highs and putting the cock ring on with slightly shaking hands. He doesn’t know whether he should tell you to look away since you’ll literally be watching him anyway and it’s not like you’ve never seen him naked, given you’ve watched multiple of his streams.

But you turn your head anyway, taking your phone out and going on it, acting as if you were extremely busy replying to life changing messages. You just had twitter up and kept refreshing it.

Once he was done you look up, not daring to look anywhere but his face. He passes the controller to the vibrator to you, averting your gaze as well.

“You want me to do it?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay then. Should I start the stream now?”

He nods and positions himself where you set the tripod and then you press the live button. Loads of users washing in and beomgyu says his usual greetings and welcomes to them.

After that he looks at you as if to indicate for you to start the controller and so you do, putting it on a low setting. Beomgyu also starts to fuck himself along with it, pumping his dick with his hands, slowly.

Beomgyu is beyond embarrassed right now. Whilst he’s fucked himself for thousands of people to watch, it’s incredibly different to this right now. A real person, right in front of him. Someone he knows. It made him so nervous, especially with your firm gaze on him, you not saying or visibly reacting to anything he’s doing making him even more squirmy. Somehow though, he thinks it’s making him even more turned on with you right there watching him. What was this weird feeling? What were you thinking of him right now?

You press one of the buttons to the controller even higher. Beomgyu looking at you with wide eyes as he carried on stroking his cock with the added vibrations, not even looking anywhere else but your face at this point, completely forgetting there was another audience watching him right now besides you, but he doesn’t bother checking the comments this time as he moans, feeling the pleasure overtaking him. He can’t believe he’s acting like this in front of you. Literally moaning with you right there. Because of you.

You know you shouldn’t feel like this at all. Like, absolutely at all. It was so, so wrong for you to feel like this but watching beomgyu like this, falling apart in front of you, stroking his dick shyly, you controlling his pleasure made you so unbelievably aroused. You could moan yourself to be honest.

You’d think that knowing Angel was actually beomgyu would make you stop feeling attracted to Angel at all, but you’re starting to think it’s only increased it. You watched every one of his streams, your favourite camboy and you’d fuck yourself as well while watching him, thinking he was perfect. And now, he was a mere few feet away from you. In real life. Fucking himself whilst you got to watch. In person. What you used to watch on your laptop screen doesn’t even compare to the real thing. His moans, reactions, body even prettier in real life.

The amount of willpower it took to not go and just fuck him right there. But that would be so wrong. It’s beomgyu. Not Angel. Well, actually you’re a bit confused now. But either way, it would be so wrong. Especially since you’re just his manager now. You’re professionally working with him. You can’t do that.

You turn the button up to the highest beomgyu looking at you fearfully and throwing his head back, whining. He slows his movements down on his dick for a second but you give him a glare as if to say ‘don’t you dare’ so he doesn’t, whimpering as he continued to stroke his dick for you.

You look at the comments to see viewers confused on whose controlling the cock ring since that’s never happened before, but they find it hot, him not not knowing what’s gonna happen.

He squishes his legs together, pumping his dick faster, eyes facing the ceiling and moans increasing and you know he’s just about to cum, seeing the scene loads of times before to know when he’s just on the verge. You press the button multiple times to go to one of the more lower settings, beomgyu snapping his head to you, distraught from not getting his high yet.

Then you go again, pressing it to the highest immediately, making beomgyu’s body jerk from the shock. He stills his hand for a second but knows better than to stop, so he just keeps jerking himself off until he’s about to cum again which doesn’t take long at all. And then you make it go to a low vibration again, beomgyu whining out loud at you. Then you start it all over again.

His hands go up to hide his face, embarrassed from the sounds he’s making in front of you and the reactions he’s making. “Y-y/n…!” Beomgyu whimpers out your name accidentally, from you still not letting him cum.

His comments go absolutely crazy. Everyone wondering who the new person behind the camera was on Angel’s channel.

@iheartsubby324: Whose y/n?!!?!?! Does he finally have a fuck buddy for himself after all this time? We’ve been telling him.

@angelsno1fan: Fuck that’s not fair. I wish I could be doing that to him right now. 😩

Many other users in all caps shouting from the screens, going mad that for the first time, Angel has someone else there. Of course you’re literally just his manager/kinda camera person helper but they don’t know that. You know if you were watching that right now you’d also be going crazy.

You let the cock ring stay on the high setting this time and beomgyu’s movements go faster on his cock, his thighs shaking together as he closes them shut again, cock twitching in the vibrating ring and he cums everywhere with a strangled pretty moan, more cum coming out of him due to the cock ring.

He can’t believe he just came in front of you. He’s never done anything like that in real life before in front of someone ever. He’s embarrassed to say he kinda liked it. But also embarrassed he just did that.

Fuck, that’s literally hottest thing ever and you got to see it in person. It was also painful to just sit there and watch. You continue to just stare it at him with your mouth slightly parted, he looked so gorgeous like that, panting, eyelids fluttering, cum covering him—you need to stop. That’s beomgyu!

You check to see how much money he just made. It was more than usual you don’t why. It wasn’t really anything different.

You wait for beomgyu on his bed as he takes a shower, feeling incredibly awkward and tense, swinging your legs off the bed. Then beomgyu walks out the bathroom, making you jump. His hair wet and masking his eyes, he dries his long hair with a towel not looking anywhere near you, you could also see how awkward he felt. Most people looked like ugly drenched rats when they came out the shower but he looked kinda…attractive-off topic! Off topic again! Beomgyu picks up his phone when a notification buzzes.

“My friend’s having a party right now. Wanna go?” Beomgyu asks, trying to ease the tension away. Just act like it never happened for now.

“Of course you have a party to go to.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

“Well, are you coming or not?”

“Fine. I don’t really have anything better to do.”

You walk into Choi Yeonjun’s house, one of beomgyu’s other playboy friends, music—if you’d even call that music—blaring, making your ears slightly hurt and shit-faced people frolicking about, some play beer pong and other stereotypical house party games. Ah, how serene.

Beomgyu approaches Kang Taehyun and you follow as he excitedly jumped on his shoulders, scaring the dude.

“Taehyunnn!” Beomgyu shouts.

“You scared the shit out of me. What the hell gyu.”

You stare at them perplexed, “You guys know each other…?” Kang taehyun was one of the top students at your university and was extremely intelligent. And beomgyu was well…You can’t imagine they would both be friends at all.

“Of course we are! We’re best friends!”

“That’s stretching it a bit.” Taehyun jokes.

“Hey! You can’t say that to your husband!”

“We’re not husbands…I would never marry you.”

Beomgyu gasps. “So you want a divorce?!”

“Yeah because he’d marry me instead!” Huening kai walks over, drink in hand , another music student you recognised but he took it as a minor.

“You’re cheating on me?!?!” Beomgyu gasps even louder, making huening Kai laugh.

“You’re scaring away all the hoes beomgyu…” Taehyun sighs.

“What hoes? You get zero bitches. Me on the other hand…” Beomgyu flicks his hair at taehyun which only causes Kai to laugh even louder. A very unique laugh, you note. “Anyway this is Y/n! We’re working together on that music performance.”

“Oh hello! Nice to meet you.” They both say in unison.

“Nice to meet you too!”

The rest of the party is pretty uneventful to you. You hang out with taehyun and kai in the kitchen, talking and laughing with them. They were very entertaining to be around and friendly, happy you made some new friends. Beomgyu disappeared at some point and you see him again, clearly very drunk and making out with some girl. All three of you rolling your eyes at him.

“How much do you bet he won’t actually end up fucking them again.” Taehyun turns to Huening Kai.

“Hmmm. $30.”

“You guys know Beomgyu’s a virgin!?” You say the last part quietly.

“Yeah. I have no idea where those rumours came from in the first place.” Taehyun answers.

“Why does he act like that then though?” You ask.

“Beats me.” Huening Kai shrugs.

Once all three of you have had enough at staying at the party, you scavenge for beomgyu, finding him in the garden, passed out in a weird beetle position. And you all take him back to taehyun’s car with much effort.

Huening Kai gets dropped off first since his accommodations are a lot closer and taehyun parks his car since your block was just next to taehyun’s and beomgyu’s. You help taehyun carry beomgyu inside though.

“Hey, my dorm is just right here and I’ve got an exam early in the morning. Do you mind taking beomgyu up to his dorm yourself?” Taehyun asks, since his was at the very first floor and beomgyu’s was at the very top.

“Yeah sure. See you later taehyun. Good luck on your exam!”

“Thank you so much y/n! I’ll see you around!”

You know why taehyun chose not to come, it took absolutely forever to try and drag beomgyu up all the stairs to his dorm, elevator conveniently out of order.

You had to stop multiple times to catch your breath going up those stairs and dragging a mostly unconscious beomgyu with you but you finally make it after what feels like an eternity. Taehyun so owes you for that. And beomgyu. You genuinely feel like you’re gonna collapse but you open beomgyu’s place with his keys.

You tuck beomgyu into his bed. It was quite amusing seeing beomgyu passed out, covers tucked tightly up to his face and his mouth parted, a little unflatteringly.

He tugs on your sleeve before you can leave though, seemingly awake again. “I pussied out on fucking someone again. Is it…is it weird…Am I weird for being a-a virgin…? Beomgyu looks at you with the saddest puppy eyes ever, slurring his words from still being drunk.

“Hey…no of course not! You don’t need to have sex. It doesn’t matter, it shouldn’t be that important. You’re not weird for being a virgin! It’s…it’s normal.”

“But everyone thinks I’ve fucked everyone. And I haven’t fucked anyone. Isn’t that really embarrassing?”

“No it’s just stupid you have rumours like that about you. You shouldn’t care.”

And then he’s passed out again, probably not hearing a word you said, your hand in his to his chest from when he stopped you leaving. You clear your throat, letting go of him and exiting his place.

Next chap

Please actually reblog !! and comment !!!! if you like the fic. It’s really appreciated tysm !<3🙏💕😊 It’s discouraging when fics have such little reblogs 🤨👎Feedback is always appreciated it makes me happy :)

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@pogigyu @denleave1088 @mashimarshmello @stellz581 @cha0thicpisces @soobsfairy444 @lcvetyvn @1ummcalhoody6 @imrllytootiredforthis @bjttersweets @aliceoracleollormusic @yongboksgf @daniarafid @nyanggk @aggiebackstage @openingssequence @qluvrv @be0mflwr@shoooobin @beomgewwwwww @dickdeprived @lilactangerine @kissmeow @katsukeis @shutupheathersorryheatherr @lcvesickgyuzz @mastergibbs93 @tae-ology @popimagines @lynanist @guavagyu @soobhns @mikeeel @multistansimp4life @goquokka @scarfac3 @disneygirl712 @roses-for-my-love @maxismp1 @peachenle @i-loved-you42 @vampcharxter @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n @yuhjoeyuh @ren-junwrld @eggeutarteuu @staurdvst @tyunnie-gyuu @vivioluh @itbtoblikethatsometimes (some I couldn’t add)

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