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HEEERRREEE'S RIGBY Y'ALL. 🦝🦝🦝🦝 I think I did a good job on the body and everything 💕💕💕❤️❤️

Created By (Me) @80ssuperstar

Humans in Space: Suggestive Sparring (3)

Fighting can relieve or sexual tension between the right people. Humans are known to be especially sexual and aggressive - likely for a reason.

*I’ve never written a Scottish accent before. I’m so American and I am so sorry.*

–

Human-Erin avoided me again. Which was easy as I did indeed have the first patrol after breakfast and she had other duties. Perhaps she wasn’t avoiding me and I was avoiding her again. Or it was possible I was overthinking. Suggestion is just implication. And implication is not reality. I will say, though, that I felt largely uncertain about how convinced I was that I had been simply reading too much on Human mating habits for my own good.

Near the end of my shift, Human-Marcus came running up to me, a panicked look on his face.

“Is there an emergency, Human-Marcus?”

“You’re damn right there is.” He pointed a finger at me sternly. “Where arr me fooking earbuds?” He had over-exaggerated the urgency of his situation and he regularly over-exaggerated the “-r” sound. I was told it’s because he’s “Scottish” but Human-Lucia also emphasized “-r” and I was told it’s because she’s “Spanish”. I preferred her “-r”s over his.

I found his earbuds in my uniform pants’ pockets and handed them to him. He was not satisfied.

“Is something wrong now, Human-Marcus?”

“Yeah. What’s up with yer neck?”

I had forgotten to treat my wounds before retiring for the night. It had stopped bleeding and the aching had been dull to begin with - so I simply forgot about it.

“Oh. A Human bit me last night. Is that not a Human fighting technique?”

“Wha? Ah mean ah guess so. It depends on the person bu’ it’s no’ really me thing. No’ in the fighting sense at least. Who bit ye?”

“Human-Erin.”

“Interesting.”

“Why is that?”

“Oh she doesn’t bite anyone in a fight.”

“She was losing.”

“No. That’s no’ why.” I cocked my head to the side and raised an ear.

“Oh well, way back when we were seniors in high school… nevermind.”

I didn’t know what a “high school” was and I wasn’t sure what a “senior” was in that case either, but I inferred that the former was a facility for higher education and a senior was of a higher rank or age than other students.

“What?”

“Ah’ll say just this much: for Erin - and a great number of other Humans - biting is not a sign of aggression, but still provocation.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ah’m gonna let ye figure tha’ out on yer own. Ah’m needed in the med-bay anyway.” With that, he turned on his heel and ran away, turning back only briefly to thank me for returning his earbuds.

…

This time, I sought out Human-Erin. I stood between her and the door to her quarters. She looked up at me with a raised “eyebrow” and sighed.

“Don’t tell me you’re here for a rematch because I forgot to stretch and I’m really sore right now.”

“That is not why I’m here.”

“Oh, okay. What’s up?”

“This,” I hooked a claw into the collar of my uniform shirt and gently pulled it away from my neck, bowing down so she may see my injury better.

“Oh… Oh! I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. My adrenaline was kicking and-” Her face grew darker yet again, her eyes kept looking at and looking away from the space where one of my many scales used to be.

“What does it mean?”

“And I just- What?” Her eyes stopped and focused on me.

“You bit me.”

“Riight.” Her eyes narrowed and that right “eyebrow” rose again, higher this time.

“Human-Marcus informed me that you, specifically you, do not bite with aggressive intent.”

“So?”

“With what intent did you bite me?” As juvenile as it felt, what I really meant to ask was “Why me? Why am I the exception?”

She stopped looking at me and said nothing for a solid six Terran seconds. “Um well, it, uh, it was just a, uh, heat of the moment thing.” Heat of the moment indeed - she reminded me of my burns.

“And why did you burn me?”

“I what??”

“My wrists…” I took her chin in two fingers - having retracted my claws - and held my other wrist up to her. “You burned them with just the heat of your body. Why?”

She said nothing, her eyes trained on my wrist - the wrist I held at her face level which was, as I stood, only a bit below mine. Her skin darkened and I could feel the blood rush from her heart to her face - how hot it was and how fast it moved. It was burning my fingers - and I enjoyed it. She felt her temperature’s sudden increase and took my hand in hers to pull it off her face. I squeezed her jaw as gently as I could, dropping my other wrist so I could look into her eyes.

“Why did you burn me?”

“I didn’t even know I could burn you.” She wasn’t looking at me.

“Look at me. Uh, please.” She looked up at my eyes hesitantly, her skin burning hotter by the moment. “You’re burning me right now. Why are you doing it? Why are you so hot?” I had it in my knowledge that Humans changed temperature due to internal influences - not unlike those from the planet Exsag - and the influences were either strong emotions or illness. She did not seem particularly unwell and I still struggled to read Human emotions.

“Before I answer, I feel like I should answer your first question. I bit you because, uh, I was trying to provoke you. I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me but I just-”

“Why would you provoke me? What would I be provoked to do?” She visibly struggled to maintain eye-contact with me and the blood in my hand was warming to the blood in her face.

“I… God this is so embarrassing… You… Well, you *excited* me when you pinned me down and I just kinda… I reacted how I would to a partner pinning me down. I guess I thought the spar was gonna turn uh… I thought it was gonna take a different direction.”

“What different direction?”

“Please don’t make me spell it out.” 

I heard footsteps coming down the corridor and whipped around, hiding Human-Erin between myself and the door for no particular reason other than to keep our conversation private. My hand fell from her jaw so that I could catch myself on the door. I lowered my head some more, my mouth level with her ear, and whispered. I heard her breath hitch.

“What different direction?”

I heard her sigh and almost feared for my scales before I realized she hadn’t moved her head to respond in kind. She exhaled again and whispered, not directly to me, but not to anyone else:

“Fuck.”

THIS IS SO CUTE I LOVE IT I LOVE IT I LOVE IT

One Kiss (maybe two)

request: maybe you could write something angsty about an upbeat and energetic reader who's always making jokes and talking about things from the future that no one in hisui understands and when they get banished volo finds them by themself and they try to be strong but break down about how alone they feel

answer: of course! sorry this one took a little longer, i was busy today :3 i left the ending kind of ambiguous so there could be a second part if i really want to write it, but who knows! also so sorry if the ending feels rushed, i really tried lol

warnings: hurt/comfort, use of Y/n, non-canon accurate dialogue (bc i forgot :P), and aged-up mc

Hisui is not for the weak and lighthearted. That is something that Y/n found out soon enough after arriving in the past. Their optimism and carefree attitude is frowned upon, if anything.

But they persist, constantly talking about the future as if everyone will understand. They don't.

"Professor Laventon! You would love computers! They do all of this stuff where-" Y/n would start, a gleam of excitement in their eyes that takes the professor by surprise.

"I'm sorry, what is that? It sounds intriguing, but I'm afraid I don't understand..." Professor Laventon would feel guilty for interrupting, but he truly does not understand the complex technology this hero knows about.

And often, they try their best not to sulk away, brushing off the comments like they mean nothing. But there's only so much a person can take!

So as soon as Y/n is exiled from Jubilife Village, they find themselves sitting in the Obsidian Fieldlands, sulking until they hear a voice from behind them.

Volo.

The one person who is as excited and eager as they are about things, although he's more interested in the past than the future.

Y/n turns to Volo, a soft smile on their face when they see the merchant approaching. However, they stay silent, afraid that they may break down in front of their friend.

“Trouble seems to follow you wherever you go, hm?” The merchant smiles down at them, wagging his finger in their face as he usually does when he’s exclaiming something. He notices the strained expression on their face - they’re desperately trying to look okay while their eyes give away an entirely different story. “Perhaps you need someone to listen to your troubles?”

Scoffing, Y/n turns away from Volo, reluctant to open up at first. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m quite alright. Just feeling a bit betrayed by people I consider friends.”

That’s when Volo’s face falls. That truly can’t be all, can it?

He puts on his usual smile and tries to cheer Y/n up, wagging his finger in their face once again.

“Oh, but maybe there’s someone who’s willing to listen to your ailments and problems!”

Grabbing his Pokéball, Volo releases Togekiss, who is more than eager to see Y/n despite their exiled status. Truly an unbiased creature. The bird Pokémon snuggles up to their side, practically begging for pets as Y/n hesitantly reaches out to run their hand along her feathers.

“When did your Togepi evolve?” Y/n asks breathlessly as their fingers glide over the ruffled feathers, making Togekiss chirp in happiness.

“That’s irrelevant, wouldn’t you say? She trusts me enough and now I find myself with a great Pokémon by my side!” He smiles softly at Y/n, noticing how this outsider like him has been ridiculed and suffered greatly, just like him. “How about I take you somewhere exile won’t find you? I know just the place!”

The pair walk the fields of Hisui, Togekiss following along, chirping excitedly every time Y/n pets her as she flies by. She seems to know exactly where they’re going and is anticipating their arrival.

Night falls as they approach this tent-like building in the middle of nowhere near a creek. Y/n meets Cogita, a wise yet kind older woman who seems to genuinely want to help them. Relief floods through Y/n’s veins at the revelation.

Volo and Y/n will be setting out on their adventure tomorrow afternoon, but in the meantime, the two sit outside the small tent set up outside, talking and making plans as to how they will connect the red chain. But unexpectedly, Volo brings up a much different topic.

“I can tell you’re still upset. What’s truly got you so down? I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you like this before… so gloomy and sad looking.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Y/n looks away from the taller blond merchant. They can’t break down here! Not in front of Volo! Not in front of the merchant they’ve grown a strong attachment to over the few months they’ve been in Hisui!

Volo laughs out loud at this, which catches them off guard. “You’re a terrible liar, Y/n. Go on, tell me what really has you sulking like a lost Aipom.”

Y/n sits there stunned into silence - how can Volo tell? Are they really that easy to read?

There’s awkward silence between the two, the merchant giving them an encouraging look to continue.

Y/n sighs. “I suppose I’m very frustrated. Why was I sent here? What purpose is there to me being exiled when all I’ve done is help Jubilife Village.” Now they’re starting to sound bitter about the whole ordeal. “Every day I try to be this positive Survey Corps member who is willing to do everything Commander Kamado and Captain Cyllene want, but it’s taking a toll on my mental health!”

Another moment of awkward silence where Volo is about to respond until he hears sniffles coming from Y/n. Are they… crying?

“And on top of that, I try my best to remember my past - or future, really - and then I’m met with glossed over stares and uninterested faces. No own cares what I have to say and it hurts!” Y/n finally snaps, tears streaming down their face.

To be honest, Volo is stunned and unsure what to do at first. But he moves to gently wrap an arm around Y/n’s shoulder and pull them closer to his chest, where they rest their head as they sob and hiccup.

Gently shushing them and running a hand along their scalp for comfort, Volo looks down at the Survey Corps member with pity. “You know none of this is your fault. There are outside forces working here that no one knows is at play. Your exile was a mistake by Commander Kamado and I promise you one day, you will be able to speak your mind about it and prove them all wrong, whether sooner or later.”

“Volo-” Y/n begins, unsure of what to say, but the merchant continues to gently shush them with a soft noise.

“Trust me, Y/n. You’re much more capable and stronger than you think. If you can make it through exile and prove them wrong, you can get through anything. I mean it. I’d want you on my side no matter what happens,” Volo looks at the Survey Corps member sympathetically as he continues to run his hand along their scalp.

Suddenly, Volo moves one hand to their chin to force them to look at him. Y/n obliges, their breath catching in their throat when they see his stormy gray eyes that are full of mystery and ambition. They see how Volo’s eyes glance down at their lips and back into their own eyes.

Y/n lips part and they nod.

Volo takes that as his opportunity and goes in to kiss Y/n gently on the lips. It’s soft yet passionate, something they would never expect from the tall merchant. There are still tears running down their cheeks, but Volo doesn’t seem to mind.

After what feels like minutes, they pull away breathless, Y/n with a dopey grin and Volo with a confident smirk.

"Does that prove to you how much I care?" He asks with a sly tone in his voice, running his thumb on their bottom lip.

Y/n hums. "No, you may have to show me again."

Now Volo laughs, throwing his head back a little. Once he regains his composure, he looks back down at Y/n and kisses them once more.

He may have to do some convincing, but Y/n will be worth it in his new world...

thank you. - a dc comic 💕

I got bored 🫠

as the world caves in

pairing: lee know x reader

themes: apocalypse!au, slight angst, fluff, mentions of reader x hyunjin, there’s a happy ending dw, no one d words

So…I’ve been thinking about writing an apocalypse/zombie au recently. It might be a full blown fic, it might be a series, but while I debate here’s just a mini au for now! If you like it please remember to comment or reblog!

Your eyes met Hyunjin’s where he stood only a few feet away from where you sat. You could see the furrow in his brow, the regret still ever so present in his gaze. This was inevitable and you both knew that. Before long his attention was diverted from you at the call of his name, eyes fixed on the pretty brunette as she crossed the yard to him.

It was then that you saw that previous remorse wither away from his features. Instead a warm smile graced his lips and that regret was replaced with fondness as he looked down at her. Your chest clenched with nostalgia at the sight, remembering the days in which he had once looked at you like that.

Keep reading

Venom animatic: Ruby and Sapphire’s Fusion

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: fluff, smut, and like a teeny tiny bit if angst if you can call it that

Warnings: Licking kink? masturbation, voyeurism, exhibitionism (kinda?), slight? biting kink, dom!yoongi, sort of aphrodisiac? idk his spit makes you kinda sorta sensitive does that count as a spit kink? fingering, oral (female receiving), orgasm denial, degradation, name calling, spanking, pet names (he calls her princess), cumplay,  unprotected sex, humiliation, handjobs, choking, creampie, like mild cum inflation? overstimulation. oh dear god this is more than I thought it was.

Word Count: 8.5k

Summary: You are grossly unprepared for the snake hybrid that enters your life. Yoongi is quiet and sneaks around you but eventually, even the cold reptile warms up to you.

↳ Yoongi goes from :P to >:P quicker than you can say danger noodle

A/N: this happened bc I was watching legend of the white snake on the netflix and proposed the idea of snake yoongi to a gc and then it just kinda spiraled from there. shoutout to @strawbxxymilk​ for planning with me.

read the sequel here

You never expected that you would end up taking care of a snake hybrid starting on your 25 birthday. Yet, here are you staring at the man standing in your living room, the only distinguishing features being his slit pupils and the occasional flicking of his tongue between his soft lips.

“So. I’m Y/N.”

“Yoongi.”

Keep reading

atsukara for my bestie @chocowhomps who gave me brain rot of these two I love these two very much!! LOOK AT THEM!!!!!!!

Hopping Mad for You

; Rabbit Hybrid!Jungkook x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, smut

; Word Count: 9.7k

; Warnings: Unprotected sex, handjob, blowjob, virgin sex, virgin!Jungkook, pretty sub!Jungkook

; Synopsis: For two years you’ve lived with your rabbit hybrid roommate, Jungkook. He’s been a model roommate and you’ve found yourself with little complaints. But his behaviour lately has been a little…unusual.

; A/N: This was basically written for @gimmesumsuga, I’m not gonna lie. It’s also based off a bunny hybrid prompt by @hybridfanfiction so thank you! :D It’s my first time writing hybrid fic so…please like and leave a comment, and reblog so other people can read if you’d like it! :)

-

“Jungkook, did you not buy any vegetables?” You call out, frowning at the unsurprisingly empty interior of the fridge. In fact, all that remains is a half full carton of almond milk that you’re pretty certain Jungkook has left in there for at least two weeks.

Reaching in and pulling it out, you peer inside and frown as you give it a squeeze. Deciding it’s probably best not to risk it, you keep telling Jungkook to write the date he opens stuff but he just forgets, you pour it out into the sink before disposing of it.

Now you truly have nothing in the fridge, and you ponder for a moment how on earth two people have managed to let it get to this point.

It’s perhaps less surprising for you, given that you’re terrible at cooking and subsist off terrible snacks but Jungkook likes to cook. How has he not noticed that you’ve both run out of food?

“Err…no. But I did buy cookies?” You sigh and roll your eyes at that. It surprises you not, as two years of living with Jungkook as your roommate has taught you that he has odd thought processes sometimes. Even if for the most part, they’re often sweet.

The two of you had begun living together when you’d answered his advert for a roommate. You’d started your Masters degree and needed a place that was cheap, yet close enough to university that you weren’t having to get sixteen forms of public transport.

All he’d asked was that he needed a roommate who would pay on time, was nice and wasn’t too loud. It had seemed simple enough, standard roommate fare if you were being honest. When he’d opened the door though, you’d realised why he didn’t want loud roommates.

Jeon Jungkook was a rabbit hybrid. An American Fuzzy Lop hybrid to be precise, he’d informed you proudly when you’d first met and he’d let you in so you could explore your potential future home.

For a hybrid, he didn’t have too many features from his animal counterpart. There was no tail, which would be adorable, but he did have the distinctive, long and floppy dark brown ears that always made you aww in secret. And sometimes out loud if you were being honest.

Keep reading

Thanks For The Sub (ksj) | Chapter One

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

Rating: 18+

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

Release date: Fri. January 19, 2024.

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

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

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

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

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

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

xo - h

That’s it baby cum for me. 

Such a good little slut for Daddy.

Wish that dildo was my cock. 

Fuck this is so hot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Two Years Ago

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was ready to rekindle his love for the moon. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The entire room went silent. 

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

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

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

Oh. That’s exactly what Jimin was saying. 

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

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

Seokjin winced. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jin, the moon. 

That’s it. He was the moon.

Present

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But try telling his dick that.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t. That’s the problem. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That all depends on how much you practice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Snow is really romantic.

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

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

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

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

“What do–”

“I just–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart plummets. “Oh,” you squeak. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” you reply lamely. 

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

Then, he leans in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Turn around,” he says. 

Wait, what? 

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

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

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

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

“Wha–”

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

Fuck.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your best girl?” You ask lightly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Holy shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seokjin rakes his free hand through his hair. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I–I’m sorry!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait,” he says, and you freeze. 

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

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

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

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

His head droops and he looks down, clearly ashamed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please,” you moan at your screen. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Please, Daddy. Please let me cum. 

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

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

Ah, it’s a blindfold. Of course. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is this what you’re begging for?” 

Yes, you shudder a breath. Yes. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

©2024 by jooniperbonsai

How did Bugs meet you? :>

There’s multiple versions to this actually! >:D

If you go by the cartoon universe, the “episode” that they first meet is basically about my sona (Bella) who lives out in the woods and is trying to paint a picture during rabbit season. So she’s pretty much constantly getting disrupted by hunters and dodging bullets while Bugs is getting chased down by Elmer. Bugs soon gets distracted by Bella’s painting, stopping to admire it before Elmer shows up and accidentally blasts a hole through the canvas. Fed up and enraged, Bella snatches up Bugs and refuses to let Elmer have him. Bugs thinks Bella is trying to keep him for herself to eat, not realizing she’s just doing this to spite Elmer, so the whole time Bugs keeps pretending to be in distress and keeps going back and forth messing with the two while flustering Bella a few times and trying to escape her. Eventually he goes too far and upsets Bella, making her cry before feeling guilty and decides to join forces with her to get back at Elmer.

Now for the “Toon Actor” version, Bella is a new toon that was creative because of criticism at the studio for not having enough girl toons. So Bella is new to everything and is TERRIFIED of being recorded and has HORRIBLE stage fright. Which of course makes it frustrating for everyone on set and for the company because of this. Since he was her costar for an upcoming cartoon, Bugs offered to help Bella out with her shyness and with acting.

There’s other AUs for how they meet, but these two are the main ones.

Is Gideon using his palm as a HEATER so Kremys cramps can be less painful??? IM CRYING???

Manifesting all of my period cramps onto kremy lecroux

He's fine, he got a walking heat pad for a husband

A switcheroo! Happy autumn :) insp under the cut

downpour

synopsis: your boyfriend picks you up after your class

pairings: non-idol, boyfriend! intak x g.n. reader

genre: fluff

word count: 1.4k

a/n: intak 🥹 our favorite golden retriever. also, not proof read as of yet, too tired lmao. italics are text messages from intak. (requested here.)

general taglist: @jwnghyuns @eaudenana @soobin-chois

the one time you decide to not check the weather it begins to downpour during your economics class. every day you stay on top of the weather, especially since nowadays it seems to become more and more unpredictable. but today, of course, you went with your gut. and oh how wrong it was. you didn’t even have to look outside a window to know it was raining- the aggressive patter of raindrops were telling enough against the college building.

as your professor finished up the lesson early due to the weather, you quickly searched your bag for an emergency umbrella but to no avail. sighing, and mentally cursing yourself, you pull out your phone to check when the rain would stop. luckily enough, you noticed a string of text messages from your boyfriend that you assume he sent during your class.

i hope class is going okay <3

oh shit it’s raining. did you bring an umbrella?

i’ll pick you up after class, text me when you get out!

♥️ see you soon

smiling at the messages, you quickly call him as you swing your bag over your shoulder. within a few seconds, he answers with an excited tone.

“your uber driver has arrived in parking lot B.” the smile was evident in his voice, the thought of it bringing butterflies to your stomach.

“thank you, baby.” you say before hanging up to

scurry towards the exit to get back home for the day. you felt bad that intak drove all the way back to campus after leaving only two hours ago from his own classes, but at the same time you felt extremely grateful. if it weren’t for him you’d either have to get soaked taking the bus or take a thirty five dollar uber- both options not necessarily being of interest for you.

just as you approached the glass double doors, you notice intak’s red car in the pick up and drop off center of the parking lot. smiling foolishly at the sight of your boyfriend tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, you quickly run to his car with your jacket over your head. as the door opens up, intak jumps at the sudden noise and puts his hand over his heart for dramatics.

“hey baby!” you spoke, turning your head in his direction and smiling innocently at his heightened state. a small fit of laughter leaves your lips as you bring your hand up to cup his cheek, pecking his lips quickly before putting on your seatbelt. “thanks for picking me up, you didn’t have to.”

“it’s pouring outside, i wasn’t going to let you get soaked getting home. besides,” he starts pulling off, starting down the road towards your place. “i’m your boyfriend. it’s my duty to take care of you.”

you give him a look, a smirk playing across your lips as you lay your wet jean jacket across your lap to start drying off a bit. “i can take care of myself.” you respond in a teasing tone, your eyes admiring the way he looks behind the wheel. he might’ve just gotten his license a month ago, but he definitely didn’t drive like it. you felt safe when he was behind the wheel, despite him being a new driver.

he puffs out his cheeks as hd turns a corner, being careful on the wet roads as the rain continues on. “i know, but i love taking care of my baby.” as he hits a stop sign he quickly moves his hand from the wheel to your face, squeezing your cheeks as he quickly pecks your lips over and over before a car beeps at him from behind. “i’ll take care of you as long as you allow me to.”

inside your apartment were you, intak, and a mini fort built from couch cushions and any and all blankets available. originally, he was going to come in for a late lunch and head home. but as the weather got worse and thunder started to roar in the distance, you both decided it was best if he stayed the night. so within the past few hours, you’ve both made dinner and cuddled underneath the fort with food, snacks, and in matching pajamas you kept in a separate drawer for whenever he stayed over.

a few weeks ago you both had started a new kdrama called It’s Okay Not to be Okay. it’s quite depressing, but the storyline is beautiful and definitely keeps you both interested. thanks to the growing storm outside, you’re nearly close to finishing the show and are almost done with your milkshakes and popcorn- the ramen long gone at this point.

intak’s head propped up on your thigh as you ran your fingers through his hair as your other hand held on the edge of the popcorn bowl to periodically grab some. gasps and mumbled comments could be heard from him every few minutes, along with little giggles when the main characters would get close to kissing or getting together.

“i’m glad we didn’t take this long to get together.” intak says, his tone playful as he leans his head fully back to look up at you.

“yeah, because you made it obvious from the start.” you replied, smiling down at the boy below you. the way his hair was fading into a dark golden blonde made your heart flutter more than ever before, the color suiting his skin tone perfectly and making him appear more luminous than ever before.

intak noticed the sparkle in your eye whenever you looked at him, the sight never failing to upturn the corner of his lips even just the tiniest bit. “i did not.” a pause. he starts thinking for a moment. “did i?” he looks at you with wide curious eyes- eyes he knows you love.

you nod, a smile breaking out. “i’m glad you did though, i would’ve been too scared to make the first move.”

“why?”

you think for a moment before deciding to respond. in hindsight, you didn’t have anything to be scared of when it came to intak. he was so loving, so caring, so attentive. and he knew how to make someone feel comfortable around him. but truth be told, his beauty and demeanor can come across as intimidating at first. he’s so bubbly, so smiley. and everyone loved him. not that you yourself weren’t lovable but to an extent, you felt like you had to meet his standards to surpass them in order to even be considered as his partner. but you were wrong; he proved that.

playing with his waves, you lean down and plant a kiss on his lips. whenever your lips met his, as cliche as it sounded, sparks flew as if it were the fourth of july. everything felt right. the time, the place, the way your lips synced up together- perfection. nothing ever felt awkward between you two, even from the first meeting.

heart pounding, intak kisses back without hesitation and brings his hand up to your face and begins rubbing circles into the apple of your cheek. as you pull away, he swipes away an eyelash and admires your features for the hundredth time that day. no flaw could ever be detected from you- he truly thought of you as an angel. “i love you.” he admitted, the words spilling from his lips. your eyes widened for a second, taken aback by the sudden confession. “you don’t have to love me back, but just know i love y-“

“i love you too, intak.” you respond, cheeks heating up from this moment. suddenly the thunder sounded like birds chirping, and the grey skies were a clear sky blue with no clouds in sight as the sun became brightly visible. everything felt right- everything felt perfect.

melting into his touch, you place a soft kiss to the side of his palm before responding to his previous question. “you intimidated me at first.”

shooting up from his comfortable place on your lap, you watch his movements as he shuffled onto his knees to be eye level with you. “me? why?” the disbelief and curiosity was evident in his voice, making you chuckle at his cute reaction.

you shrug, unsure of why you even thought so in the first place. “i guess because of how outgoing you are? and pretty. you’re very pretty, baby.” you sit up on your knees and wrap your arms around his neck, placing a quick kiss to his forehead before laying your head on his shoulder. “not anymore though. now i just think of you as my annoying and dorky boyfriend.”

wrapping his arms around your waist as he laughs, he starts rocking you both back and forth as the rain continues to downpour outside. maybe, just maybe, the weather should become more unpredictable more often.

《Vashwood Week》

Day 3: Royalty AU | Scars

Something I whipped up for pride month!

Concept: This motley crew go to a pride parade in the early 2000's

I wish every gay, lesbian, bi, trans, ace, aro, pan, poly, and every other type of bean -- whether you're out or in the closet, whether you're still questioning and curious-- a very happy pride month!

Uwaaaahahahahahaaaaaaaaaa C O L O R SSSS uuuhuhausuizh

5 times inumaki toge held your hand, and 1 time he didn't (inumaki toge x gn!reader)

OH M Y GOD i finally finished this piece and i'm so happy with it and i hope you enjoy <333 i'm so excited AHH

masterlist

1.

Inumaki finds it, oh, so amusing to sneak behind Fushiguro and suddenly grab his hand. And while Fushiguro dug his own grave by complaining about that classic rom-com movie trope one too many times, it doesn’t account for the lengths that Inumaki goes to irritate him. For one, Inumaki likes to dip his hands in ice water before running to Fushiguro. Inumaki also likes to smear left-over cough syrup on his fingers, so Fushiguro will look down in confusion to find himself holding a very sticky hand. Point is, you don’t feel bad for Inumaki at all when Fushiguro chases him around Jujutsu High and leaves him stuck in a shikigami frog quite coincidentally deaf. And you definitely don’t blame yourself for feeling suspicious when Inumaki takes hold of your hands and squeezes them.

“You better not have spit in them, or something.”

Inumaki laughs. He shakes his head and drops your hands for a second, only for him to cup your face with his palms.

“Salmon?”

Get it?

You blink for a moment as you try to determine what Inumaki wants. His hands feel warm against your face; you unconsciously nudge your cheek closer to his palm. His thumb twitches, as if he wants to caress the skin it touches. So warm. Oh. That. You look down at your own hands and press them to your forehead. Cold.

“You want to warm my hands?”

Inumaki nods. He looks at you questioningly, and when you nod, he takes your hands in his and presses them together. You fight the smile tugging at your mouth. He gives in and rubs his thumbs over your hands, and you tell yourself you feel like this because of the cold. Not because of the rare moment of intimacy passing between the two of you. And not because Inumaki usually teases you, with rare moments like these becoming extremely difficult to pinpoint.

“Well, I hope you don’t do this to everyone who isn’t a human furnace.”

It starts off as a smile. His eyes crinkle into peach-blossoms and light falls to flush gold across his cheeks. “Okaka.” He says it so shamelessly, and so matter-of-factly, that you don’t need him to translate at all. Only for the ones I like. By now, his smile looks an awful-lot like a smirk.

“You’re a flirt,” you proclaim, reaching to tweak his ear, “and I’m not falling for any of it.”

2.

With only a few students roaming the Jujutsu High halls, bumping into Inumaki happens more often than not. Especially at times like these, where first light feels years away, and neither of you can sleep.

He beats you to the kitchen this time. For a moment you watch him shuffle around the kitchen: slinging the refrigerator door open with his elbow, pausing to think for a moment, standing on his tiptoes to carefully reach for a cup from the cabinet.

“Need help?”

In the early morning glow of refrigerator light, Inumaki’s snake and fang seal looks luminescent. You fight the urge to run your fingers across each concentric circle: tap thrice around his cheek, glide to the corner of his mouth, brush your thumb across his lip. But whatever faint illusion you saw disrupts immediately, because Inumaki jumps. The cup slips in his grasp. He saves imminent disaster with quick reflexes and a string of unintelligible safewords (even if they do sound anything but sweet); he clutches the clattering cup against his chest and blinks at you slowly. Recognition lights like little flame in his eyes, and he slumps his face into a deadpan exasperation.

Oops. At least he saved the cup?

“Ah, sorry.” You step forward to where he stands, raising your hand in greeting. “But nice catch! Couldn’t sleep?”

Inumaki lets himself smile for one, brief second. It doesn’t last long because he quickly morphs his features into a dirty look to point out your sorry excuse at apology. And then his mind starts working again--three a.m. insecurities unraveling out of his grasp--and he turns, quite rigidly, to set the cup behind him and press his hands against his face.

“You don’t need to”--

His hands scrabble across the counter. Finding nothing, his shoulders sag, and he makes do with pulling the neckline of his shirt up to hide the marks against his cavity. He turns. His gaze pleads: don’t say anything; don’t look at me; sorry, you have to see me, like this.

“You don’t have to hide it, Toge.”

Inumaki blinks at you owlishly. And then he shakes his head to roll his eyes. “Konbu.” He busies himself with the cup behind him.

“Is that for tea? I was thinking I’d make some, too.”

Inumaki nods, still shyly holding his shirt against his mouth. He wordlessly passes you the jar of hojicha tea blend. When you don’t take it from him, he cocks his head.

“I like black tea,” you murmur in embarrassment.

Inumaki raises an eyebrow. He rummages through a different cabinet and pulls out different jars to read the labels. When he finds the jar of black tea leaves, he holds it to you in satisfaction. When you still don’t take it, Inumaki frowns. “Tuna?”

“With milk.” You pull at your fingers. “It’s too strong for me. I mean, to drink plain.”

Inumaki grins.

“And sugar, please.”

He presses his hands against his mouth to stifle any sound. When he glances at you, amusement twinkles in his eyes. He forgets all about his exposed snake and fang seal. The neckline of his shirt drops back to regular position, and he reaches to grab your hand, wrapping his fingers around yours.

“Cod roe.” When he says it, strained breaths escape his lips as he tries to further stifle his laughter. He pulls you toward the fridge, and you watch as the filmy light bathes him in sublime gossamer. With his other hand, he grabs the carton of milk and nudges the refrigerator door shut with his foot. You manage to reach the sugar jar before you’re tugged away.

Inumaki makes no effort to release your hand even as he cheerfully fills the teapot with a spoonful of leaves and seeps the tea with hot water.

“Do you like holding hands?”

Inumaki shrugs. He does, to his credit, seem to think about it for a while. But he must think better of it, because just as he decides to open his mouth and whisper something, he shakes himself out of it. He settles with a shit-eating grin, while inching closer to you for dramatic effect.

You shut him up before he can say anything. “So not only are you a flirt, you’re a masochist. Very nice, Toge.”

The grin slips from his face for a split second. He sighs, reaching to gently rap his knuckles against the side of your head. And then the warmth of his hand replaces itself with a cup of aromatic tea.

When you look up to thank him, the softness in his gaze startles you. You don’t know what to say. Uncertainty makes you look away, only to dump two spoonfuls of sugar in your tea.

3.

People who spit their gum out on the sidewalk fill you with rage. Especially when you look around to spot the trash bin a few footsteps away. Gum clumps to the bottom of your shoe in a chewed, washed-out pink nearly unrecognizable with rings of cement-dust. If only you kept that spare napkin or hashi from today’s take-out.

The crossing-light beeps green. Your friends start stepping forward into the street--wait for me--you want to call, half-debating whether to follow them or not. Too late. The moment of hesitation passes, and you sigh, hobbling over to the trash bin to scrape your shoe against the rim. Stupid bubblegum. Stupid pedestrian who doesn’t care about other people.

You blink back angry curse-words that feel too loud for public space. You swing your leg down from the bin and take a tentative practice-step against the ground. Good enough to walk with, even if it does feel slightly sticky. Nothing terribly uncomfortable. As you pull out your phone to text everyone to wait up, you swipe left on a notification from Inumaki.

Oh, good. Did he notice you got stuck on the other side of the street? You expect to see a message of where to meet up again.

But the snap is a video of you angrily attacking the trash bin with your foot. And then there’s Inumaki wheezing in the background as you watch your past-self crumple your face into your hands in a moment of existential crisis. The caption reads: got gum stuck on their shoe ╮( ˘ ､ ˘ )╭ wait up for us at that tree near home.

You let the snap replay for a moment as you stare at it in amusement. “You waited.”

When you look up, the corner of Inumaki’s mouth twitches, and he raises his phone in front of his face in futile efforts to take multiple pictures of your reaction. Or a video.

You wrestle the phone out of his grasp and flip the camera over to take a selfie of the two of you. “Was this all part of your plan to spend more time with me?” You glance at him with a look that shows a swagger only meant for people who jest.

Inumaki won’t meet your gaze. He saves the photo to his phone and tucks it back into his pocket before he reaches for your hand and nudges his head toward the street. “Tuna, tuna?”

Ready to go?

When you nod, Inumaki straightens up, and his smile brightens. The green light flickers yellow as the crossing-timer ticks down, and now the two of you dash across the street, half-running, half hopping from one white stripe to the next, until you step back onto concrete as the timer ticks down, two, one, zero.

Sincerity. “I didn’t think you would wait.” You smile at him, not caring at all about the influx of adoration present in your gaze. “Thanks.” And then, “We better get to the park, fast. You look cold.”

Inumaki furrows his brow.

You point to his face. “Your cheeks are flushed. It’s windy, I’m a little cold, too.”

Inumaki sighs, his eyes narrowing. He brings your hands up to press against his cheek. His face feels warm to the touch.

“Do you have a fever?”

“Salmon.” Inumaki scowls and zips his collar all the way up to his nose. He quickens his pace and refuses to talk to you for the rest of the walk back.

4.

Later at the end of the week when you gather at movie night that Itadori declared a new tradition, the room awashes in black and white light with voices emerging from the television in garbled, old-hollywood sound. The movie looks old. You came for the snacks and laughter, but you didn’t realize that Itadori meant business when he planned movie night. He actually looks invested in the plot … and so does everyone else.

Even Fushiguro shuts up, and you lean forward to whisper in his ear: are you scared Toge will use your complaining against you? Fushiguro rolls his eyes and without sparing you a glance, shifts closer to Itadori and flips you off.

You laugh. Itadori swivels his head around to glare at you. “Shush!”

From somewhere at the other end of the couch, Kugisaki leans forward and drapes her arms over her knees. “Seriously?” She gazes at the television with an unimpressed look. “Why didn’t he lock his door?”

“Dumb. Dumb as hell,” you quip.

Itadori nods. “Right? I think he’s going to”--

“Tuna, tuna.” Inumaki points forward, and the door on screen starts to open.

“Victim number four,” Maki snickers.

Among the various plot twists and string dissonance, you manage to doze off. Your eyes shudder open at jump-scares when Inumaki’s knee knocks against yours, or when Fushiguro leans back a little too much and accidentally bonks his head into your shins. Or when Kugisaki leans over to playfully toss a pillow at you, laughing when you blink awake only to drift back to sleep.

Inumaki nudges your side during one of these waking-from-loud-externalities. He motions toward his shoulder. “Takana.” Television glare kisses light across his eyes, and for a moment, Inumaki holds everything you have ever wanted to see all at once: I am not leaving, I am not leaving, I will wait for you, always.

You stare as your head wavers from weight it doesn’t know how to properly distribute at this state of exhaustion.

Inumaki chuckles quietly. Fondness proves hard to pull away from, especially when it comes from a boy who laughs when you trip over your shoes, or teases you every morning, or would let you shiver in the cold while he walks smugly in a warm jacket. Because now, when you don’t have the energy to convince the two of you that you like each other as just friends, it feels too easy to drift into the free-fall of something more. For some reason, you let things pass at the hours from dusk to dawn. In the uncertainties of early morning, and when the two of you look at each other among the rest of your friends, you never feel the urge to play dumb.

When you rest your head against his shoulder and lean up to press a soft kiss to the skin underneath his jaw, Inumaki reaches for your hand and shakes his head. He rubs little circles into your palm. Go to sleep, (Y/N). You’re just tired.

5.

He holds your hand when you least expect it. And when you most expect it, all at once. The familiar gesture of intimacy becomes something entirely Inumaki, one that ironically shys away from any confrontation of intimacy. It starts with the warmth of his hands, and quickly turns into the way he likes to play with your fingers, or trace little stars into the impression of your knuckles when he lets his thumb press against your skin. Never has he drawn hearts.

You know why he won’t. Inumaki does it out of consideration. He can too easily picture your freak-out if you felt a heart lazily drawn onto your skin. How strange, to crave something right in arms-reach. All the comfort laid in front of you, from the way he looks at you, and the way he holds you, and the way he smiles at you when you wave at him in the morning: you could take it.

Every week you tell your therapist: I learned how to set boundaries, I learned how to assert myself, I learned that what happened in the past won’t happen in the future. Not everyone will leave. But still, a lingering thought flips uncomfortably in your mind. Why can’t you let him in?

When you think about it, it comes down to the unknown. What happens after the honeymoon stage? Will you still feel the same? Will he still feel the same? What happens when he holds your hand, and it no longer feels like home?

And every night, you think, no, it doesn’t matter. No matter what your mind comes up with, you need to take the risk and step out of your comfort zone. It needs to happen, one way or the other. If anyone, you should know; in all your years of life, your comfort zone never led you well.

Now, when Inumaki takes your hand, you forget about playing naive. The words that leave your mouth feel more bold. Sometimes you laugh at the flush that casts across Inumaki’s face when he blinks at you in incredulation.

“I’m going to take the risk,” you tell your therapist the next time you see them. “I’m ready, now.”

+1

Inumaki meets you near the bookstore when you emerge, his hands stuck into his pockets as he approaches you curiously. Maybe you should have rethought this, because an Inumaki in street-style never fails to take your breath away. Sometimes it becomes so easy to envision him in just his classic Jujutsu uniform, and you forget that the boy before you can actually dress. And dress well.

“Hey.” When you look up to smile at him, it surprises you how easy the gesture comes. The number of times you envisioned this moment made millions of possibilities branch from this very interaction, but based on how he’s reacting, and based on how you feel, all your worries float away. Inumaki looks really nice today. Heat rises to your cheeks, and you clear your throat, hoping Inumaki won’t notice your fumble. “I wanted to tell you something.”

Inumaki nods. He says nothing, but his lip trembles slightly. He regards you with apprehension and shifts in his stance, weight alternating from one foot to the other. You want to reach forward and thumb the worry lines away from his forehead. You almost lose your will to confess in the way you imagined, because the urge to promise him that he won’t need to worry comes so suddenly.

Things come full-circle, don’t they?

You reach forward to take his hand.

Inumaki sucks in a breath. With such a cool, outwardly exterior, it surprises you to see his eyes fly open so wide. But, you’ve never held his hand first. His mouth opens and closes slightly as he tries to make sense of this.

Maybe he already figured out why you wanted to talk to him, by now.

Yet instead of grinning, he settles with gazing at you in anticipation. The hope in his eyes conceals itself poorly. Your chest aches to see how he tries to force casual indifference, while he clearly hangs onto every word that is about to leave your mouth.

His hand feels warm in yours. Safe. You trace a heart against his skin. Slow and deliberate. And then you do it again. And again. Little notes of affection blooming across his skin. “I like you,” you murmur. “I want to try. I want there to be an us.”

Inumaki’s face brightens. A smile spreads across his face as he gazes at you with a mixture of emotions that watercolor their way across his skin. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear that. But are you sure? You won’t regret it?

You squeeze his hand a little too hard. “And before you say anything,” you interrupt, “I’m serious. I’m not going to be scared anymore. I’m ready.”

Inumaki tugs on the hand that connects the two of you, and he pulls you into his arms. When he rests his head on your shoulder, you can’t help the laugh that escapes your lips in relief. Being here feels so easy. So warm.

He traces little hearts against your shoulder blades, and as you press your lips to his temple, (for real, this time), you think it’s been a long time since you’ve felt so sure.