#I’m always going to be alone and feel lonely and feel like everyone hates me. this feeling is never going to go away and I’m always going to

[tteokdoroki]

THIRD TIME'S A CHARM - kento nanami.

✩ — about. “my coworker is a wonderful person. they’re kind and sweet. they care a lot about others. recently, i’ve been having some…less than platonic feelings for them and i don’t know how to handle it." kento nanami never cared for workplace shenanigans. he never took his mind off of work. and he never thought he would develop feelings for his coworker, nor expect for them to feel the same way about him. what happens when he misses your three attempts to ask him out? perhaps reddit will know... ( 5.5K )

✩ — warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fluff, angst, happy ending  - video banner ! AITA-verse!au, office romance!au, mutual pinining, cluelessness, misunderstandings, christmas time, mentions of alcohol, office worker!nanami, afab!reader.

✩ — things to note. happy monday everyone, i have for you yet another fic to go with my gojo one! this story was written as a gift for @antizenin bc i love her so bad !! can be read as a stand-alone but does make refrences to my AITA gojo fic !! thank you to @todorosie for beta reading! hope you enjoy beloveds <3 - series m.list ⋆ m.list ⋆ read on ao3 ! ִ ࣪𖤐₊ ⊹

my coworker is a wonderful person. they’re kind and sweet. they care a lot about others. recently, i’ve been having some…less than platonic feelings for them and i don’t know how to handle it. my chest feels tight when they’re away and whenever they’re nearby my heart beats so fast i feel like i might pass. it would be a pleasure to date them or to just stand by them… there’s only one problem. i’m not usually the type of guy who engages in workplace shenanigans, i hardly know how to interact with people outside of the confines of my work. my coworker has made a few advances, at least i think they have. i don’t know how to respond or whether or not i’m over-thinking this. do they even like me? is it all in my head? i could really do with some advice… how should i go about this and telling them how i feel?  TLDR: i have a crush on my coworker but i can’t, for the life of me, tell if they like me back. 

you’ve always liked your co-worker, kento nanami.

to those who don’t know him, he appears quite stoic and blunt, cold even. like the crisp weather at the start of winter, air that’s sharp and bites unpleasantly at your nose. nanami tends to act the same towards those he holds no affections for, blocking them out as if he were a fortress made of stone.

one may even paint a picture of kento nanami as a lone wolf — callous and uninterested in the buzz of the office. he stays late, works long hours, never engages with the gossip on your floor after work. 

that’s only the beginning of how the world sees your blonde co-worker.

but you have come to know nanami, in your short time working for Gojo Corporations. you’ve not been there very long, still adapting to the office culture and your brand new line of work, but in the few months that you have been finding your equilibrium in the office — you’ve gotten used to nanami’s demeanour, his ethic, his lifestyle. you’ve come to appreciate it, and him. 

the man works hard, with a quiet confidence about him that puts your mind at ease — a quality you only wished that you had. it makes you curious, how little he seems to care about what it is Gojo Corp actually does but how much of his time he puts into it and how much he cares for the people around him too. you’ve learned, by taking the desk to nanami’s left, that he’d risen pretty quickly in the company, he begrudgingly seems to be gojo’s (your boss’) favourite employee and that he’s surprisingly good at what he does for someone who hates it so much. 

he presents at meetings and debfriefs calmly, always gets through his tasks with an air of rationale and when you’d first started…nanami was kind, gently leading you through your own work as if he’d taken your hand in his and was guiding you to some place warmer — away from the chill of your nerves and self-doubt. in his own way, he cared. nanami was not as cold as one might think. 

there’s so much more to him than what meets the average human eye. ever since joining the company — you found yourself curious, wanting to know everything about him. what drives him, what pisses him off, where he wants to go and who he wants to be. beneath his calm, collected and commanding aura there is a man whose heart holds many secrets. a man you want to know… and might even want to be with.

the very thought of being with nanami makes you shy where you wish that you weren’t. maybe then, you could tell the blonde office man how handsome you thought he looked while concentrating on filing reports and paperwork. perhaps you could then steel your nerves and stop the shake in your voice while telling him how much you like the low dip in his own when he explains KPIs and stock markets to you. not to mention how hard he works on keeping his patience with not just you… but the interns megumi, nobara and yuuji as well (yuuji was the brother of someone your boss new very well back in college, apparently). the ways in which he’s taken the young trio under your wing, it’s a wonder you haven’t had baby fever yet.

nanami even extends the same grace to your man-child of a boss, he wouldn’t have stayed working for Gojo Corp and for satoru gojo if he didn’t. in some ways, they were like a little family at the company, and nanami was the responsible one always picking up gojo’s messes and holding the others together. 

especially on days when gojo came into work emotional over developments in his ex’s new life.

still, nanami stayed. 

and your crush on him bloomed like a light frost spreading across the double-glazed glass of a window. 

you felt your heartbeat speed up whenever nanami was close by and you could smell the ginger and cinnamon on him, not to mention, the hairs on the back of your neck would stand whenever your hands brushed over one another’s. nanami was warm on the inside, you knew that — he liked his interns, he cared for gojo especially when the days were tough (like when he holed himself up in his office after finding out his ex was getting engaged). he even brought lunch for the office floor. mostly soup for haibara whenever he got sick. 

you knew deep down that nanami was soft and loving — you felt that he needed love too. you wanted to be the one to give it to him, even if it was the last thing you did.

ATTEMPT #ONE - THE CHRISTMAS PARTY. 

satoru gojo’s office holiday parties were far from what was considered appropriate for the workplace. 

with thousand dollar bottles of booze and jars of caviar dotted about the main conference room — it was hard for anyone not to be in high spirits. the notes of cheery christmas carols drift through your ears and the tinsel that your boss had thrown over your shoulders scratches at your neck uncomfortably. you’re not one for buzzing celebrations like this, they’re too noisy and loud, but gojo has made you promise to attend this year's party… and he was oddly convincing for a manager this unserious. 

ultimately, you were glad that you’d decided to come because while being spoiled by your boss was all good and fun — it provided you with the perfect social setting and opportunity to speak to your longtime crush, nanami. 

like you, he wasn’t a fan of forced mingling in the office, and had no interest in consoling his tipsy manager who was currently crying up a storm into one of his poor intern’s shoulders. the blonde office man kept to himself, tucked away by the bright lights of the christmas tree as he nursed a piping hot coffee — he wouldn’t be getting drunk on company time. 

you manage to break away from conversing with shoko and make your way over to the latter co-worker, swallowing down your nerves with a swig of the moscato satoru had so generously picked out for you — knowing that you liked the sweeter stuff and that it would probably loosen your lips enough for you to get this over with (he and those interns were fully aware of how much you admired kento nanami). sliding up beside the man, your long, embroided skirts swish against his ankles — only serving to pull his attention away from his work phone and onto you. 

taking a sip of your drink to warm yourself up with liquid courage and break the ice — you hum, quietly. “any plans for the holidays, kento?” you ask him simply, and though your deep and gorgeous brown eyes stay trained on the bubbles in your glass — you can feel kento’s own chocolatey pair land on the side of your face. whether they’re scrutinising you or admiring you, you can’t actually tell.

if you were looking, you’d be able to see the way that the sharp edges of kento’s usual expression soften across his face — the straight line of his lips are parted, his furrowed brows becomes relax and his posture no longer ridged, but instead, at ease. if you were looking you’d know that out of all of his co-workers (aside from the interns), kento is most comfortable around you. he find your meek and cautious demeanour adorable and the way that you sometimes awkwardly flutter around him in conversations is cute. 

“not much, just working.” he responds quickly and shortly. to anyone else, they would have taken nanami’s reply as cold and callous, but you? you smile softly, glad that he’s even taking part in your small talk. 

you’ve always been a little quieter than most colleagues at Gojo Corp, but you’ve always tried your hardest to make connections and bring the group together. you care for the interns so deeply, helping them to learn from your initial mistakes at the organisation and to do better. he likes that you’re good company, knowing just the right things to ask and when, allowing for comfortable silences when no one in the team feels like talking.

nanami likes you. 

and perhaps that’s what makes him awkward around you as well, the very fact that he can’t find fault in you — that you’re too sweet and kind and gentle to complain about like he would with nagging gojo. what does he say to someone as wonderful as you?

he doesn’t want the moment to end, however. “how about you?” 

the blonde says your name softly, as though he’s testing it out on his tongue — and you can’t help the warmth that blooms like a spring rose in your chest at the honeysuckle sound. you’re hot all over and you’re sure it’s not the alcohol. 

“f-family!” you squeak shyly, voice high pitched as you fend off excitement — having nanami elaborate on your conversations isn’t a usual occurrence. coughing, you take a sip of your drink and knock it down a notch. not that kento would want you to, since he finds your enthusiasm to chat with him so endearing. “i have family…coming. o-over the break! flying in from abroad, so it’s going to be special.”  the blonde’s brow raises with interest, and you latch onto the opportunity to speak with him further, basking in your quiet moment together. “i’m not usually one to cook, but my mother and i will be handling dinner together! so it’ll be a mix of all sorts of foods. traditional and from our home country too.” 

nanami slips his work phone away in order to give you his full attention. “that sounds…wonderful,” he settles on saying. he wonders what your family is like, if they’re as shy and endearing as you or louder like that of the dynamics at the office. he imagines you surrounded by love, by laughter and warmth… and can’t help but yearn for the same. “i do miss home cooking, christmas in new york isn’t quite the same as japan.”

“t-then you’re welcome to spend christmas with us!” you blurt before your mind can even process what you’ve said. now you really must be drunk, or tipsy at the very least. who just invites their coworkers over to their house without getting to know them first. “we’ll have more than enough to fix you a plate…if you’d like,” despite your overexcited blunder, you remain hopeful that nanami will accept your invitation or at least get the hint. that you want to know him better and spend more time with him. 

but nanami doesn’t take the hint, he can’t seem to figure out why you’d want to spend time with him outside of work, and so, puts up a respectful boundary. nanami smiles and puts down the coffee he’d been drinking. “i wouldn’t want to impose on your time with family.” 

you frown, the stacked bricks of your excitement coming tumbling down. “kento that’s not what i meant—“ 

“look!” gojo cuts in, slurring from across the room as he points a shaky finger at the two of you by the tree. “they’re standin’ un’da the mistletoe!”

both yourself and nanami look up in disbelief to find yourselves standing under calculatedly placed mistletoe — no doubt due to the meddling of your boss. though you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to kiss nanami, it was more of question as to whether or not he wanted to kiss you.

“gojo, you’re drunk. and i really should be getting back to work.” kento insists, clearing his throat and immediately looking away from you with a bashful blush. you’re perfect, and darling, and to kiss you really would make kento’s day…but he’d never want to make you uncomfortable or put you on the spot like this. “i have budget reports for your meeting in a few hours.” 

“fuck the reports, don’t you wanna kiss the pretty lady?” nanami looks to you, shying away from the conversation and squirming under the sudden attention of the office party-goers. “i wouldn’t want to make her uncomfortable.” 

“i-i wouldn’t be.” comes your hushed whisper. 

nanami coughs to clear his throat, flustered by you. “are you sure?” 

having had enough of your back and forth, dancing around one another like two teenagers confessing to each other on white day — gojo steps in, forcing his drunk yet authoritarian hand. “come on nanamin,” the white haired man drawls impatiently. “if you don’t kiss her! i will!” 

“no!” you and nanami bark adamantly in unison — causing gojo to smirk and stagger happily while megumi and yuuji hold him up.

 “then go ahead and kiss. or i’ll have to fire you.” 

the idea of losing your job over a trivial christmas tradition is enough to spook you into agreeing. that and you couldn’t imagine kissing satoru gojo… the thought makes you gag to yourself. “fine,” nanami grunts before looking to and addressing you next, “do you mind?” 

you nod once, breath shaky. “it’s okay.” 

“where are you most comfortable being kissed?”

“um, i haven’t… i’ve not had my first yet so…” 

“ah, i see. i won’t do anything that makes you uncomfortable then.” hearing the news makes something weird… stir within the blonde’s firm chest. being your first kiss, his co-worker’s first kiss is an appealing thought — almost a little twisted and selfish for him. to have that honour, to be the one you would give it to, makes his head spin. 

gojo cute through his train of thought, however. “god, would you too hurry it up!”

nanami rolls his eyes at his boss (which would have gotten anyone else fired.) but let’s the corners of his pink lips quirk up into a subtle smile directed at you, and only you. cautiously, he leans down as though not to spook you like a deer in the woods, and takes your hand in his larger and more calloused one. “sorry about this.” he hums quietly, the rough pad of his thumbs traversing through the ridges of your knuckles. 

“i-it’s fine.” you repeat your earlier sentiment, holding your burning breath as kento drags the back of your hand up to his lips. dark brown eyes meet even darker ones — your gentle gazes meeting in the middle as the tensions rise within the conference room. your entire body melts like butter in a pan and your heart bursts out your chest with the crescendo of the christmas music in the background when kento nanami presses a soft chaste kiss to the back of your hand.

your kiss under the mistletoe. 

once he breaks eye contact and snaps out of it — nanami is quick to announce is departure, covering up his flustered expression. “now, i really must be getting back to work. thank you for the party gojo,  kids,”  he nods at you softly with an utterance of your name and leaves not long after, leaving you with a flurry of butterflies in your tummy. 

leaving you a sheepish, warm mess because while you had intended to ask nanami out and failed, you still managed to get somewhat of a kiss. 

you press your hand to your lips, feeling the warmth of kento’s lips embedded into the skin there. somehow, you find it within yourself to ignore gojo's whine for a proper mistletoe liplock in the background — choosing to focus on the lingering touch left by your crush.

“how about the receptionist, she’s into you!” you hear yuuji suggest, earning a cheer from your stupid silver haired boss. 

the three interns plus gojo disappear from the party after that, while you remain stuck in place like a statue made of stones— repeating the kiss in your head over and over again, in your thoughts drowning in images of kento nanami. 

ATTEMPT #TWO - THE SECRET SANTA.

“good morning, kento!”

“good morning to you too,” 

bristling from nanami’s warm greeting (as well as him calling you by your first name), you shuffle into the seat beside him with cold cheeks and bright eyes — doing your best to quietly shift out of your winter attire to make sure you don’t disturb the rest of the conference room. you’ve just snuck into the team meeting for Gojo Corp’s annual secret santa. this year would be your first time taking part and it took a hell of a lot of bribing (not really, just some locally made daifuku and the number of the receptionist gojo might be crushing on) to convince your boss to give you nanami for the special festive event. 

picking out a gift for your blonde haired and stoic presenting crush proved difficult at first. you already knew that kento spent a lot of time at the office, working hard and dedicating himself to hours of paperwork — but that wasn’t exactly useful to know when it came to gift giving. however, after weeks of gathering intel by tapping into whatever office buzz nanami was involved in and sharing short exchanges with him by the coffee cart outside of Gojo Corp, you’ve managed to learn two things about kento nanami.

one, his appreciation for something homemade or cooked — like the quaint family owned bakery not too far from the office. 

and two, his dream destination. the one place that he’s always wanted to vacation to — Kuantan, Malaysia. 

now you couldn’t exactly afford to just splurge and buy him a ticket over there, not to mention there was a considerate budget placed on gifts…but what you could do is bring nanami’s favourite things to the office. while gojo sets out the rules for staff, you gently place your carefully wrapped presents on the table before you, again, trying to avoid making a ruckus with the crinkling wrapping paper. 

“you’re a little later than usual.” nanami comments to you in a low tone, having been watching you this entire time. 

he would feel weird saying it out loud, but he notices that you’re always early into the office — clicking in around twenty minutes to nine every day and that you take your time in setting up your desk for the day. as though you have a routine to calm your anxieties.

“i had to stop by somewhere for a last minute gift.” you grin after a hushed quip. and nanami can’t help but find it contagious. you’re a warm ray of sunshine to him — one that he can’t help but want to bask under and be near, especially during this winter cold. you make kento feel at peace with your calm aura. the way you speak so tenderly and kindly. as he turns his attention back to a blabbering gojo, he finds himself growing jealous of whoever received your gift. whoever it is, he hopes that they appreciate your thoughtfulness.

after the rules are done, everything is exchanged between assigned pairs as gojo calls up who was responsible form who.

elation courses through nanami’s veins once he learns that his secret santa was you —  happy to know that he is about to be on the receiving end of your perfectly wrapped presents. 

“i hope you like them,” you bleat shyly, passing him the leopard print-covered gifts. the very sight makes him grin, since the paper matches his usual work tie.  

the blonde takes his time unwrapping each layer of paper — as if he doesn’t want to ruin all the hard work you put into presenting this perfectly for him. a strong wave of fondness crashes over your co-worker once the first present is revealed. nanami’s favourite, freshly baked sandwich from the japanese bakery downtown. the one he visits every day, and the same sandwich he orders every time. the one that fills him with nostalgia and reminds him of home. 

the next gift is even more thoughtful, and he fights off the urge to clutch his chest — as if cupid has shot an arrow right through his heart and made it yearn for you and your kindness. it’s a crocheted water lily, like those found in the Taman Gelora park in Malaysia. the same park that nanami has always wanted to go to. 

there’s a little postcard of the location too — with a note scribbled in your precise handwriting, wishing nanami a happy christmas. he tries not to dwell on the heart signed next to your name.

your saccharine voice slices through kento’s wild and appreciative thoughts delicately and he spares you a glance, watching your features as they illuminate with happiness from his reaction. you can tell that he likes your gift, and that fills you both with joy. “i heard from a little bird that you’ve always wanted to take a trip to Kuantan. and while i couldn’t get you a ticket myself, i figured these would be the next best thing. plus some food for your flight.” you joke while nanami thumbs the ridges of the yarn making up his water lily gift. 

he laughs then, remembering how yuuji had grilled him about his dream vacation weeks back. it must have been for you. 

you’re so selfless and thoughtful, it still blows the blonde office man’s mind that you would have gone through the trouble of getting him such a gift. most times, colleagues at Gojo Corp settle for fancy chocolates or snooty vouchers for department stores… but you used so much of your own time and effort to create something that kento nanami would truly appreciate. it drives him mad that he can’t seem to figure out why. why would you do something so nice for him? 

“i wish i could have gotten you something in return.” he mumbles fondly.

“i don’t need anything from you kento,” you say sweetly, making his heart race as you put your hand over his. “i appreciate you and you’re my friend. i don’t need anything more.” you figure now is a bad time to confess to him, in front of everyone. though you might have chosen the wrong words — because while you do want more from nanami, he now thinks that you don’t, pulling away from you slightly. “i… i appreciate everything you do for the company. a-and i like spending time with you. being your friend.” 

you facepalm internally, knowing you could have worded yourself better — but the realisation comes a little too late, for nanami is already pulling away from you, his once soft smile falling into place with the harsh lines of a frown. “thank you for the gifts,” he says, a little colder. now that he’s figured out why you truly made him those gifts. you see nanami as a friend, a good one. nothing more, like he had secretly hoped. “i must be getting back to work.” 

“o-oh but kento—“ he looks down at you icily, you have no idea why he’s being so cold. he hasn’t a clue either, it’s not like you know of his affections or fondness towards you. you thought that calling yourselves  friends would be just fine… at least until you found the confidence to confess properly. “nanami…did i offend you? i didn’t mean to pry with your gifts! i just wanted them to be perfect—“

“—you’re fine. just… duty calls. paperwork.” 

“oh, right.” you reply, weak and defeated, thinking that he’s mad at you. rejecting you again. “good luck nanami…”

“thanks,” he mumbles. “for this, and the gift.” 

“you’re welcome,” you say, mostly to yourself but before you can say more he’s disappeared from the conference room and gone back to his cubicle. 

ATTEMPT #THREE - THE EVE OF CHRISTMAS.

as mentioned before, your boss isn’t exactly the serious type.

satoru gojo is silly and often irresponsible in regards to work. he’s had a lot to deal with and a lot to learn, he covers his mistakes with charms and smiles, but he’s learning. and when it comes down to it, satoru cares for the company, the office and most importantly —  his staff.

which is why he makes it a rule that no one in his main team should work over the christmas period — with no exceptions. 

of course, the ever-dedicated kento nanami has always found a loop-hole in avoiding the festive rule and his manager’s simple christmas wish. which is why, much to your chargin, satoru has meddled a little bit and sent you into the office to send nanami home. usually you wouldn’t mind the opportunity to speak with your crush, but after your second rejection from him in such a short space of time, you’re not so sure your little heart can take seeing the man before the holidays. 

you’d agreed to satoru’s request nonetheless, your family didn't arrive until tomorrow and you couldn’t live with yourself if you let kento work through the night. you still had feelings for him after all. 

when you arrive at your office, it’s dark and dim — matching the evening and it’s weather outside. you assume that any cleaning staff have already gone home, instructed by nanami who would also hate to keep people behind on Christmas Eve. it seems like him to offer to clean up after himself.

rounding the corner, you spot him in the conference room, tucked away by the tree from your christmas party as he taps away at his work laptop — no doubt finishing the Q3 report. you push past the glass door and make your way inside, tugging your scarf, hat and coat off while you watch nanami work. you hang them all up on a nearby coat rack.

“i know you’re there,” he speaks into the dark silence. “is that you, satoru? i’m not going home.” 

“actually, satoru sent me in here to make sure you weren’t working on Christmas Eve.” you respond in an even tone, ignoring the slash of hurt over your heart when nanami fails to even spare you so much as a glance upon hearing your dulcet voice. 

he instead scoffs, returning to his work. “tell him that i’m fine. i don’t need to be babysat. i know when to take a break.” kento doesn’t why he’s being so harsh with you, it’s not like you knew of his feelings. calling him your friend had been a token of kindness, but he let his rationality slip away and acted out because… what? he was afraid of your rejection?

despite his mean words, you stand your ground and refuse to leave kento alone. “i figured you might say that, so i bought you some food. these are cookies from the bakery that you like and they should keep you going,” you rummage in your tote for a small of cookies — pushing them across the large conference table for your stubborn blond co-worker. “the girl that works there is sweet. maybe we should go sometime, we can take a break from your work and have some cold turkey sandwiches ahead of Christmas Day—“

“if i wanted sweets i would have called up that meddling boss of ours, satoru,” nanami seethes, losing his patience. the more he looks at you, those big brown eyes and your soft, beautiful face, the more hurt he feels, the more nauseated he feels knowing that you might not like him the way he likes you. as  just friends, instead of something more. “why are you here?” 

you blink back your suprise. “w-what?” 

“don’t you have family to be spending the night with?”

“i do it’s just… i worry about you, nanami. you work too hard, it’s christmas.” 

“i really, really would like to finish the report so i can go home.” 

your face scrunches up with rage and using that same fury, you march over the blonde man in three short strides — grabbing his chair and whirling him around to face you. you slam his laptop closed with enough power to shatter the damn thing, fixing nanami to look at you. ”what is wrong with you?” 

“pardon?” 

“i’ve… i’ve been trying all month to show you how much..how much i care about you and how much i like you. but it’s like you don’t even see me.” your voice warbles despite how angry you are, tears threatening to spill over the edge of your lashes. everything hurts, you don’t know what you’ve done to make nanami resent you in the way that he does now. perhaps if you were different, more confident and self assured maybe he would notice your gestures and implications. maybe he would like you back.

you wish for the darkness of the office to swallow you whole and make you disappear as you and nanami do nothing but stare blankly at each other. however, the lights on the obnoxious christmas tree continue to flash in the corner — illuminating the crystal tears clumped in your lashes and the slope of your features with a perfect golden glow. nanami sees you, he always has…but what good would a man like him be to a girl like you? sure, he wants to settle down, wants christmas with someone he loves, somewhere comfortable where he doesn’t have to worry about a thing — let alone money.

…but nanami is a tough nut to crack, he keeps to himself so much that even now you’re struggling hard to get him to speak his truth, and his feelings. he wouldn’t want you to give up trying even while he struggles to open up. 

“i see you.” finally, kento finds his confidence and admits his truth to you. “i always have.” 

he stands from his seat, towering over you and you stumble back. “do you? i’ve tried so hard… to tell you…”

the blonde leans down to your height and your words trail off, overwhelmed by him. “to tell me what?” 

he prays that you can’t hear the pound of his heart against his ribcage or the blood rushing through his ears… but nanami has never stepped out of line or taken a risk and if he doesn’t, break the rules, he could risk losing the one good thing at this god forsaken place. “that i… that i like you. kento. i-i’m fond of you.” you exhale through your words, succumbing to everything that makes up kento nanami. his scent, gingerbread and fresh mint, makes you dizzy, his proximity makes your world tilt on its axis and you’re so nervous that you latch onto the collar of his dark blue dress shirt to keep yourself steady. 

nanami seizes the opportunity to pour into you every emotion that he can’t bring himself to say. his large hands settle gingerly on the small of your back and his warm breath coasts over your fleshly lower lip, as if to ask for permission to kiss you properly. “may i?” comes his timbre voice, equality as shaky as yours had been earlier. you shake your head ‘yes’, giving nanami your consent to press his lips against your own in a life changing kiss. the action is tender, guiding you in all of the right places where you lack experience. the fists you'd formed in the collar of his shirt loosen the more that nanami works your lips in his gentle kiss — warming the frost over your little heart. 

“i’m quite fond of you too,” he says your name after finally giving you the room that you need to breathe and kento brushes a thumb over your the swell bottom lip before he kisses you gently again. “i’m sorry i didn’t say so earlier.” 

still holding onto him, a breathy chuckle escapes you as if you’re in shock. “w-what…what changed your mind? i thought you didn’t like me like that…”

“it wasn’t my mind that needed changing. it was the way i saw how you felt about me… i should have asked instead of assuming you only saw me as a friend. that was my mistake,” nanami explains carefully, choosing his words wisely. “you’ve been fair and kind to me, and i failed to give you the same grace due to my own doubts. i admire you, and should have confessed to you sooner but i—“ 

“but you wanted to finish working first, i get it.” you giggle and lean up to peck kento on the lips, stealing the words right out of his mouth. “just… please talk to me next time. i thought you were mad at me.” 

your blonde co-worker, crush and now.. partner? (that was to be decided) gives your waist an apologetic squeeze — acknowledging his mistakes. “i owe you that much,” he replies warmly, “now how about those turkey sandwiches you were talking about?” nanami questions you awkwardly, in his own charming way of asking you out for a date on christmas eve. 

after packing up and like a gentleman, he retrieves your scarf, hat and coat from the nearby coat rack by the door and gently pulls them over you one by one. like he cares, like he might even love you. he even zips you up to protect your cheeks from the bitter cold. nanami folds his own coat over the bend of his and grasps your hand firmly in his — keeping you close as you walk out of the office, a newly formed christmas couple. 

somewhere off in the distance, the boss of the Gojo Corp office watches with a sly grin. while satoru might not have gotten his holiday romance, he’s glad his little plan was enough to get yourself and nanami together. 

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

#nanami x reader #nanami fluff #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento fluff #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #nanami x you #jjk smut #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #kento nanami fluff #nanami kento x you #jjk x you #nanami kento #nanami smut #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki #angelshubnetwork #ghostqueues

[beefboyandbabygirl]

Pretend It's Someone That Came for You (18+)

pairing: coworker!wonwoo x fem!touch-starved!reader

genre: coworker au, office au, strangers to lovers, angst w a happy ending, smut (MDNI!!), fluffy fluffy fluff fluff

description: you're lonely. you're so lonely you think it might actually kill you. but when wonwoo transfers to your office, he might just change that fact.

warnings: unprotected sex (do NOT pls my babes), soft dom!wonwoo, sub!reader, v loving sex, praise (f. receiving), confession of love, riding, fingering (f. receiving), pussy rubbing tihi, pet names (pretty girl, good girl, baby, darling, etc), VERY angsty beginning, yn is truly v sad so DO NOT READ THIS if u fear it will make u sad!!, they say i love u unrealistically fast but i had to do it, yn uses sex to feel less lonely/ends up feeling more lonely, relatable yn frs, slightly dramatized symptoms of touch-starvation (?), kinda boring plot but idc bc its CUTE AF

quotes from my creative director (@joshibambi): "finally!!" (she was fed tf up), "stanley is the most stanley man ever. i hate him but i love him.", (more r coming she actually didnt have time 2 read this and i didnt want to wait with posting.)

wordcount: 10.0k

a/n: this story was supposed 2 have more angst, like it was supposed to have this whole misunderstanding, but it just didnt feel right, it made me sad, so instead this is a short n sweet love story xx

Sometimes you think that the loneliness might kill you. 

You weren’t always like this. You remember being a sociable, joyful child; half-broken bikes and teddy bears and booster seats. You remember pigtails and popsicle sticks and Power Rangers, and what came after that? Being a moody teenager, became being a moody adult. High school became college, and college became an office job that served to keep you alive, even if it didn’t feel like being alive. College wasn’t that bad, you remember, so at what point had you mistaken isolation for privilege? And at what point had you gone too far into that tunnel-hole to turn back? 

 You must’ve been cursed, you think, putting on your outfit for work in the deadly still apartment. Dust dares not move, dares not give you hope that you are not alone. 

You must’ve been cursed, you think, coming into work to a string of half-hearted, mumbled greetings. Your office is off-white and black and gray and everyone inhabiting it is also off-white and black and gray, and their skin is faintly oily and sickly and their faces are dragging down as if the very earth was reclaiming them and you think that you fit in here better than anywhere else. 

You must’ve been cursed, you think, when you spend your day writing emails and organizing documents of information into different formats to send to huge corporations. Sometimes you fantasize about the other end of the transaction. Maybe their office is warm and brown with an accent of blue, and maybe people put hands on each other's shoulders, when they tell one another they’ve done a good job. 

Yes, there’s no other explanation, you think, and can’t even muster the energy to feel bad when you blame some old hag from your hometown. You think she must’ve conjured up the worst ingredients, something cartoonishly evil, and a spell befell you, sunk into the crevices of your skin and dug into your pores.

You lie on your couch with a glass of wine and the television going, but you’re not really listening. You don’t think anyone has touched you in six months. You’re not even sure you’re real anymore. You swear, you could live with no one hearing you out, because you’re not sure you’d have anything worthwhile to say, but you just needed someone to touch you. To reach out a hand and confirm, you’re real, you’re right underneath my fingertips, and I’m squeezing your shoulder, and I see you, and I feel you right here.

Sometimes you think that the loneliness might kill you.

Lying physically very still, you still feel like you’re scrambling, fighting the clutch of the curse, and tugging on metal chains. Maybe that’s where all your energy goes. 

What do normal people do when they feel this bad?

Sometimes you leave open the window, and when the wind tugs at your door, you pretend it’s someone that came for you. 

Tug, tug, tug. The door rattles against its hinges when the fatally empty sky brings to you, in outstretched palms, the wind interlaced with glimmers of hope. 

There’s never anyone at the door.  _____________________________

This particular day starts like any other. You wake to your alarm and you put on clothes and you get ready and brush your teeth. Then you trample down to the bus stop. The sky is smothered by a duvet of heavy rain clouds. The rain hasn't come yet, but you know it will. Your fingers become stiff and hard, where they adhere to the polyester strap of your bag, massaging it. The bag is cold and dead.

The bus ride is by far the greatest part of your day. It’s quiet - early enough that you’re only accompanied by a few other souls. You rest your head on the window, vibrating gently against the curve of your forehead, and watch the people in the street. 

 The bus hums a gentle tune and snakes down the streets. Then you’re there, and whatever solace that it offers you under artificial light and mediocre, felted seats is gone. 

Your office building is maybe the most depressing place on earth. It’s no glamorous feat of architecture. It is but a large, orange-y, puke-y, brick square, and the building is shared between yours and the Forester company. You don’t talk to the Foresters, but you know they eat cream cheese bagels on their breaks and throw birthday parties and once you saw the branch manager squeezing a salesman’s shoulder and telling him he had done a good job. His fingers squeezed down and the movement of the fabric revealed a shoulder pad built into the suit. You remember thinking it was a shame that it blocked the real touch. 

Today, you walk up the stairs with heavy steps and you idle into the office building, eyes cast down to the dirty, gray carpet. You begin the long trek into the back of the building where your desk is located.

“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Tina.

“Morning, Tina,” you mumble back.

“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Gerard. 

“Morning, Gerard,” you mumble back. 

“Morning.”

“M-”

Wait a minute. 

Your greeting falls short. You don’t recognize that voice. Stopping in your tracks, your shoes scratch on the rough carpet, and lift your head to see him. 

The first thing you notice is that he’s the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen. He looks like he jumped out of an underwear commercial; he’s all strong jawline, sharp eyes, round glasses on his pretty nose, neatly trimmed, short dark hair stretching down the planes of his face. He’s wearing a button up (usually you wouldn’t even register the clothing your coworkers adorned, but something about how he wore it was noteworthy), a tie draping over the dress shirt, and formal slacks hugging his thighs. 

He smiles at you sheepishly, hands nervously smoothing down his thighs. 

“I’m Wonwoo” he says curtly, nodding to you. “Just transferred from the Wallingset branch.” 

You nod. “Right. Wallingset,” you nod more. “Nice to meet you. I’m Y/n.” 

“Nice to meet you too, Y/n.” 

Something about your name on his lips makes your heart flutter. It’s pathetic, you know, but his peregrine being in his office chair, spilling your name from his pink lips makes you feel a little more real. You look at him and then you nod again-again, kicking your legs into gear again and walking the last stretch to your desk. 

You can see the back of his head from your orange-wood desk. Papers and sticky notes are scattered among the desktop. The monitor watches you accusingly, all big and square and black, waiting for you to open it up and begin working. Your eyes linger on him for a moment. Then you work. 

A few hours pass on emails and translating information from a company into a comprehensive sheet. However, today you’re having a hard time focusing on work. 

This is not new. 

Sometimes you briefly talk to a man at the grocery store, and your mind will wander to him for next week, wondering if he’s thinking about you too, imagining yourself cuddling with him, watching movies, imagining him telling you it’ll all be okay. Sometimes you briefly talk to a man on the street, sometimes it’s even a date, but whatever the case you obsess and you dream and you always end up alone. 

Today the victim of your depraved mind is Wonwoo. The guilt is easy to push away. You feel sorry for yourself. You think you deserve this. You think you can’t survive without this. And so you imagine him hugging you, stroking your hair, and you imagine him falling in love with you, and you imagine not being alone. Your fingers rest on your keyboard. It’s old and mechanical. You think it’s from a yard sale, probably an old woman whose children moved away. It’s plastic, and it curves inwards underneath the pads of your fingertips. The keys are cold and dead. 

You fully zone out, eyes blearing into the back of his head, but you don’t really see it, your mind has traveled elsewhere. You guiltily imagine his hand between your legs, on your chest, straddling him, kissing him. And it’s not rough, it’s loving, because in this world he loves you, and he’d do anything for you, and you don’t have to be alone again.

You don’t love Wonwoo. It’s not some magical love at first sight, it’s not a romance book, it’s real life. You’re lonely. You need this to survive. 

“Hey, Y/n?” 

You snap your head up. Maybe you were still daydreaming. But you recognized the voice well and true, and it was Wonwoo, leaned over your desk, hands in his pockets.

“Oh, uhm, hey-” your voice is shaky and you quickly rush to compose yourself, hands moving frantically and uselessly to glide papers over one another and, then, realizing that there was no point to your movements, stilling and looking up at him, cheeks flushed. “Hey.” 

Wonwoo smiles gently. “Uh, you know, I was wondering,” he looks around the office, as if surveying the area. “If you knew where to get a good lunch? I don’t know this area at all, so..” 

He trails off, looking at you expectantly for an answer. Now that he’s standing before you, it’s much harder to ignore the guilt you feel. You wanna gnaw at your nails until they’re nubs, you want to crawl under your desk and cover your eyes. Does he see how red your cheeks are? 

“Uhm- well- I don’t- I eat a packed lunch, so I’m-” 

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I’m, uh, no expert,” you giggle awkwardly and watch his gentle smile drop into pursed lips. “But! Uh- I hear the- the hot dog stand, uh, just a little down the street is good!” 

“Really? Maybe I should try it,” he contemplates, smile returning to his lips. “Would you mind showing me this mysterious hot dog stand?” 

“Uh-” 

Just seconds before you were thinking of his fingers in your pussy, and his hands caressing you, and him making you feel loved. He’s standing before you and he’s a totally normal guy, and you feel like shit. You feel like shit for using this fake image of him to comfort yourself. You can’t be around him, can’t convince yourself that maybe this’ll turn into something more - not when you always end up alone. Your brows furrow in determination.

“Actually, I have to, uh, get this done, so-” you gesture vaguely to your monitor. 

“Right! Yeah,” Wonwoo seems embarrassed, biting his lips and nodding. “It’s, uh, just down the street?” 

“Yeah, to the right when you walk out the building.” 

“For sure. Thanks,” he doesn’t even look at you then, just waves you off half-heartedly and starts trailing down the office. His shoulders are incredibly broad and his belt wraps tightly around his small waist.

You feel like shit.  _____________________________

Why is no one else cursed? 

You look out of the window, lying on your bed after work. Everything is very still and unmoving - your whole apartment feels like it’s knotted in strings, tightened until everything is snapped into place, and if you move the wrong muscles, the invisible hands will let go and everything will fly and hurdle through your home, and you can almost hear the sound, like the hard, empty sound of throwing a bowling ball and getting a strike. 

No one else is cursed. People crowd the streets with friends, family, partners, and they’re talking and laughing. You rest your head in the windowsill, a lone spectator in the window. The glass cuts you off from the streets. 

The afternoon after daydreaming the way you did about Wonwoo is always hard. Your apartment seems intent on suffocating you. Your daydreams serve as a reminder that you’re alone, that you truly have no one, and the act itself is so humiliating, you sulk into a glass of red wine and sometimes you cry. What do normal people do when they feel this bad, you wonder again, sobbing in your bed and spilling wine on your nightie. 

Nighttime falls early while you’re crying. You weep on and off, hug your knees, eat a microwave dinner and watch TV, light casting onto your pathetic form on the couch.

And in your most vulnerable state is when you most easily slip into your old habits. 

You press an old contact in your phone, one you’d tried to steer away from recently. You wipe mascara from your reddened cheeks, you wear pretty lingerie, and you lie, completely empty, void of any warmth, on your bed, awaiting.

It’s the first time he touches you in months. When his hand finds your shoulder, you shudder terribly. Sorry, he says, and he seems taken aback. Just ignore it, you plead, just ignore it. He does so, unsurely, and every time his hand grazes over your body you shudder and sob and every time he hesitates, asking if you’re okay, you cry at him to continue.

It feels good while it’s happening. Skin beneath your fingertips, hands on you, a face close to yours. You and him are the only thing moving in the apartment, synergizing on your bed, conjoining and writhing, and for just a moment, you don’t feel so alone. 

When you’re done the anonymous man stands back up, sliding on his pants in the late hour. He says it was great and you hum. But then he looks around, hesitating on every old piece of furniture, on every photo on the walls, and lastly on you.

“What?” you ask, lying naked in your bed. He grimaces at you, as if signaling that he can’t quite figure it out himself. 

“I don’t know,” he says slowly, hands on his newly-clothed hips and surveying the corners of the room, where shadows pool. “It feels haunted in here.” 

He leaves. 

When the warmth is gone, the bile rises in your throat. Old habits die hard, you think, and you feel totally empty. You couldn’t go on like this. It was nights like these you began to feel like a martyr - sacrificing yourself for a brief escape. Because when the door is closed with a click and you’re alone again, you feel yourself trembling and your heart is glowing red in the empty astral plane. Brief, easy forms of pleasure are often the most harmful.

It feels haunted in here. You remember his words, and before you finally fall asleep, you wonder one thing. You wonder if you’re already dead.  _____________________________

The next day is a pain to overcome. You’re slightly hungover, slightly sore, and very uncomfortable. But you comply with your routine, and you enjoy the bus ride, and when you get to the office everyone greets you. 

 “Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Tina.

“Morning, Tina,” you mumble back.

“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Gerard. 

“Morning, Gerard,” you mumble back. 

“Morning, Y/n,” Wonwoo says. You look up from the carpet carefully, flashing him an apologetic smile. You hope he can read its intention: Sorry about being weird yesterday. You think he got it.

“Morning, Wonwoo.” 

And then you’re landing yourself at your own desk and beginning work once more. It’s boring, but today you ward off the daydreams and you focus, and you’re getting an exceptional amount done. 

The clock on the wall (off-white, but yellowing near the top) reads 12:28 when your boss, Stan, approaches your table. He’s half bald, and his suit is much too loose, and he has a ladder of wrinkles climbing his larger-than-life forehead. 

“Hey, N/n!” he calls, so loud that a couple of heads turn at the commotion. You’ve asked him several times not to call you that. 

“Stanley,” you breathe, tapping a stack of papers on your desk to neaten the pile. You wonder if you were in trouble, but if his smile is anything to go by, you’d guess not. 

“My favorite woman in accounting!” 

“Hehe,” you laugh half-heartedly. You catch the eye of Wonwoo, glancing over his shoulder with a small, teasing smile. You smile back. 

“I have a big- oh wait, wait, new guy, uhh, Jeon? Come over here real quick!” Suddenly his solid fingers waft the now scared Wonwoo over. The spectacled man’s shoulders hunch up as he moves off the chair, nodding respectfully. Wonwoo stands beside Stanley at your desk, and you focus your attention on Stanley, hoping to not get too lost in the idea of Wonwoo again - you were doing so good today. 

“I have a big job for you, and I thought you could work with Wonwoo on it,” Stan moves his hand up to cup the side of his mouth, as if telling you a big secret, “seeing as he was a bit of a star over in Wallingset.”

Shit. The guy you were daydreaming about was working with you? Wonwoo laughs, embarrassed, but you hardly have time to catch it. You can’t do this. Yesterday you were thinking about him fingering you while looking at you lovingly!

“We have a massive, new client! Just dropped a big competitor of ours, and they want us to do their six month report!” Stanley seems genuinely excited about this, so you can’t help feeling a little guilty that you’ll be a gobbering, slobbering mess, sitting beside Wonwoo on this. 

“That’s great-”

“I know! So, my two star members in accountancy, I’ll hand this off to you. The data should be coming into your emails soon,” without letting either of you react, Stanley hunches over, like a coach does before a little-league baseball game, wrapping his arms around both of you and Wonwoo. “You got this, troopers!” 

Stanley claps his hands on both of your backs, so hard you jerk forward at the movement, and then he bounces off to the elevator at the far end of the room. You sigh heavily from the interaction. It’s quiet for a moment, while you fiddle with the papers in front of you.

“What a guy,” Wonwoo muses finally, thin fingers resting on the edge of your desk. You giggle, unable to look him in the eye for fear that you might remember how you’d thought about starting a family with him. “Yeah.”

You and Wonwoo settle into an unoccupied meeting room, and it’s all very professional. Markers and post-its, trying to find the best way to structure the report, excel sheets to categorize and overlook data, double check numbers. 

However bad you think it’s going to be, you’re wrong. Wonwoo is easy to talk to - he’s quiet, but he’s intelligent, and he understands how to bring on conversation, even when you fold in on yourself like a used napkin. 

“Yeah, we used to steal signs from our neighborhood,” Wonwoo admits halfway into a conversation about your hometowns. “I don’t think that’s gonna fly anymore.” 

“Why stop now? You’re letting societal rules hold you back,” you joke, and the two of you laugh, and it’s so pathetic, you’re certain you haven’t laughed this much in years, and the conversation has lasted maybe 20 minutes. 

“Well, I could show you the craft, you know, it’s a delicate process-” 

While Wonwoo talks your phone buzzes and you absent-mindedly pick it up, reviewing the notification.

Your grin drops. Faintly, you hear Wonwoo stop talking. He tilts his head to study the way you frown at the screen. “What’s up?” he asks. 

It’s the guy from last night and he’s asking if you’ll be available again tonight. 

Maybe it’s how you could almost forget it - how you let yourself into positions that would hurt you, just to feel seen and heard and touched. Maybe it’s the dichotomy of that encounter and now, talking to Wonwoo, and having the laughter steal away the loneliness. But you’re reminded so terribly of your position. You’re reminded that this, too, will end, and that the loneliness will return. You’re reminded that once the shift ends, you’re alone again. 

Suddenly you’re a thousand daggers all pointing out. You shield yourself. 

“Uh,” you trail off, putting the phone down again. “Just some guy.” 

Wonwoo’s eyebrows raise. “Boyfriend?” 

“No!” you say quickly. “No, he’s, uh. Just some guy.” 

A pause. 

“Okay,” Wonwoo says. You don’t even remember where you left off the conversation. You bite your lip because everything is all agony. The table is cold and dead beneath your hand. 

“I’m thinking we group these together,” you say, eyes now tuned to your screen and fully submerged back into your work. Work. That was all that could cover your beaten down, cursed self. 

The rest of the shift you feel Wonwoo looking at you carefully, as if he’s trying to read you. You don’t talk about yourselves anymore, no more banter, no more witty comments. You structure the report, and try to ignore how his eyes laser you open. You don’t like it. You feel like he can tell you’re a pathetic, lonely woman and that you have nothing and no one. You feel like he can sense the curse upon you. 

This would be torture.  _____________________________

It is not torture. 

The next day, to your surprise, Wonwoo is nowhere to be seen. You wait 5, 10, then 15 minutes in the meeting room you’d camped in, before you begin working on your own. It’s slower without him, but you manage. 

You can’t help but slightly worry about him. It feels stupid. You know you’re putting too much emotion into a person you’d known for two days, but you can’t help it. You wonder if he’s gotten hurt or injured, or if maybe he hates you and has transferred back. You think even Excel finds you pathetic. 

You sit there for three hours, among the ruins of paperwork and your open laptop, running your hand through your hair and typing in sentences that mean nothing, and the wallpaper is off-white and yellowing at the top, and the blinds are closed to the meeting room. 

Around 1 PM the door to the meeting room is opened, wood smacking against the glass that surrounds it, and Wonwoo stands in the doorway, slightly out of breath. You snap your head up to him, like the jerk of a lifeless doll, suddenly interrupted from a very disorganized Excel sheet.

“Hi, shit, sorry,” he gasps, slinging his bag off of his shoulder to sit down next to you. 

“Are you okay?” you ask immediately, and Wonwoo nods blindly, pulling his laptop out of his bag. “Yeah,” he says, cheeks slightly flushed and licking his lips. “My cat- my cat needed surgery, she got sick last night, it was an emergency.” 

You nod in understanding, “it’s okay-” 

You can hardly get the words out before Wonwoo rolls his chair back, wheels resounding hollowly on the floor, so he can look at you clearly. “I’m really sorry about this, it was not nice of me to leave you alone with this.” He gestures vaguely to the scattered papers, and you shake your head.

“It’s okay, Wonwoo, I get it,” you say reassuringly, peering up at him through your lashes. “You don’t need to worry about it. You’re here now.” 

Wonwoo seems less intent on personal conversations today - it’s probably because he was so late, and now is trying to make up the time. But it’s okay, in fact you’re somewhat relieved, because it dampens the false hope that blooms in your chest, whenever he asks you about your life. 

Even if you and Wonwoo work hard and quietly, you slip into the late hours of the night in an attempt to keep on track for your schedule. Outside the windows that separate you from real life, the sky turns orange, and then dark, muted blue, and stars begin dotting its impressive stretches. People begin to leave around five, and by the time you and Wonwoo finish all your work, you’re the last ones left on your floor of the office. 

Wonwoo lets out a loud sigh when he finally finishes the second segment of your report, and the both of you slump back in your seats. 

“It’s so fucking late,” Wonwoo limply throws his hand in the direction of the window. You smile a little, looking out. Smaller buildings spawn geometrically from the ground, and every once in a while someone walks by with their dog, spotlighted by the stretch of street lamps that stand outside the parking lot. “I really am sorry about this, you know. Really ruined your night,” he says quietly. 

You shake your head. “It’s fine, I had nothing to come home to anyway.” 

There’s a pause.

Wonwoo looks at you intensely. Oh shit, you realize, was that too obvious? Was that too pathetic? Has it just clicked that you’re a loser that no one wants? You nervously look back at him, but there’s no malice in his eyes. A totally unreadable expression adorns his features, where he’s leaned back in his leather chair, legs spread invitingly. You look away, feeling dumb. 

“At least we followed our schedule!” you say. Wonwoo snorts.

“Yeah, thanks to you. If you hadn’t completed so much before I got here, it would’ve been hopeless.” 

Now it’s your turn to scoff, blushing lightly and looking at the linoleum flooring. “I don’t know about tha-” 

“Seriously, Y/n, just take the compliment,” Wonwoo reaches a hand over, and you watch its movement.

It’s like time slows down, not like the movies, no, like you can stop time with the heavy weight of your gaze, pinning his muscles in place. But you can’t, and it lands on your shoulder with a soft thud. Fuck. His hand is warm and alive on you. 

“You did so well today, I-” Wonwoo cuts himself off, because suddenly you’re trembling. 

He feels your body shuddering and jerking under his hand, like the wind rattles your door when you leave it open, and he can’t see your face behind a curtain of hair, but he hears you gasp, and, fuck, you look like you’re sobbing. 

The man from last night had become so hesitant when you reacted this way. When your body trembled and shook and when you cried, but Wonwoo seems to understand. He peers at you from above the rims of his glasses, and his hand stays put right there on your shoulder. 

“Y/n,” he whispers, so sincere it causes a pathetic squeak to escape you. What must he think of you? The thoughts spiral and you can’t control a single one of them, they dance like freed souls in your head, and you can’t stop the spasming of your muscles, and you know you look so pathetic beside him right. “Y/n, look at me.” 

You don’t. You can’t. You can’t because there are tears spilling from the rims of your eyes, and rolling down your cheeks, wet and glossy. Besides, you’re an ugly crier. 

“Look at me,” he says seriously, finger tightening on your shoulder. You try to steady your breath and calm your tears, before you obey and begin to turn your chair. The simple motion requires so much effort - it’s like the air has become so thick, that the friction against your leather seat slows you down. 

Finally you turn to him, eyes first resting on his knees, then, carefully, traveling up to his face. He’s frowning. 

Your face is reddened and your eyes are puffy, your cheeks are shiny and you chew your bottom lip in a futile attempt to keep the tears at bay. 

Wonwoo looks genuinely devastated. The hand on your shoulder softens its grasp, then begins petting your arm, rubbing up and down. The action has you choking out gasps, trembling even more in his hold, and Wonwoo feels the need to roll his chair closer to you, so his other hand can grab yours. His thumb rubs over the back of it, and he lowers his head to look at you. 

“Shh, relax, relax, Y/n,” he whispers, and you try to nod, but it’s so overwhelming; being touched, being seen, being heard, all at once. For months, maybe years, no one has touched you like this - as if they care. Now the feeling is foreign, so scorching hot on your arm and your hand, your body can’t take it anymore. You’re stuck between wanting to lean into his hands, wanting to feel how real you are, and how physically true your existence is, and wanting to shy away. What must he think of you? 

“Y/n,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut to banish the sigh of your sobbing. “When was the last time someone touched you?” 

You hiccup painfully. “Uhm- I- I don’t, ” your eyes are bleary and your lashes are wet. Your lip trembles and your whole body shakes when you try to breathe. 

Apparently this was enough of an answer for Wonwoo, because he suddenly stands, somewhat harshly tugging you into a standing position too, and pulls you directly into the harbor of his arms. 

Instinctively, you wrap your arms around his torso. His chest is pressed flat against yours, so, so warm, when he nudges your head into the crook of his neck, and presses his face against its side, sighing softly into you, and breathing warm air onto your hair. His palms push you into him, soothing your trembling body, and holding you like an anker. One hand travels up to your hair. 

“W-Wonwoo, you don’t have to-”

“Shh,” he quiets you immediately, voice the softest wind of a peach tree. “Just let me take care of you.” 

You do. Wonwoo holds you until you stop crying, and though it must’ve been twenty minutes or so, it feels like no time at all. Standing in his space, breathing in his dark cologne, and letting his heat thaw your dead heart is a totally timeless act. Joy and serenity flows from the places where your bodies touch. When you stop crying, Wonwoo holds you for longer. 

Eventually, he lets you go. 

You step back sheepishly, now much calmer and the red in your face faded. You wipe your tired eyes shyly with your sleeve. 

“Thank you, Wonwoo,” you mumble, voice thick and garbled. When you look up at him, he smiles softly, although it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he says softly, arm extending one last time to squeeze your forearm. Then it falls limp again. 

“I, uh, I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” 

“Of course.” 

When you return home, you’re buzzing. Your entire apartment buzzes along with you, things seem to clatter and beam along with the bright, glowing of your heart. You snuggle into bed and nothing is still and even when you’re drifting into sleep, your nerve endings spin in joyful circles, and your feet are a static hum. Suddenly you are very, very real. _____________________________

You’d think the next day would be tense and awkward, and maybe it is at first, but soon enough you’re talking again, more intimately than before even. 

This is Wonwoo’s doing - you know this. You know he’s smart and you know he doesn’t want you to feel bad, so he makes conversation and builds trust between the two of you. You know he hopes you don’t feel insecure. Every word he says and every flick of his eyes is riddled with it. 

The conversation decidedly slows down your progress, so Wonwoo once more suggests staying overtime. You look at him for a moment before agreeing. 

You can’t tell what his end goal is. A chamber of your heart has been revived and rebirthed, and you’re more chipper, more bouncy, but the rest of your heart insists: you’re still cursed - eventually it’ll go back to how it should be. You listen. You try not to get your hopes up that Wonwoo really cares about you. Why should he, really?

Although when you’re done for the day, about an hour after your usual 5 PM, you stand up and begin to pack your things, laptop sliding into your bag and clustering pens in your hand. It’s gray outside, but the sun comes in a single strand through a gap in the smog and the clouds. The wind hoots by the windows, and it smells like the indian you ordered for lunch together. 

You stop your packing, feeling a set of eyes in your back. You twist your head to see him.

Wonwoo is sitting completely still in his chair, slack-covered legs spread open, and he makes no move to collect his own things. He just stares. 

“What’s up?” you quip. You’re slightly nervous. Just before it was all silly childhood stories, college and weed and life before the dead-end job. Now Wonwoo has that unreadable expression on his face again. 

He slowly lifts his hands from the armrest, eyes locked with yours, and claps his palms on the tops of his thighs. 

Your eyebrows furrow. 

“Wha-” 

“Come here,” he says simply. When you stand completely still, like a deer in the headlights, Wonwoo scoffs and rolls his eyes. “What? You think you’re cured because someone hugged you once?” 

“Cured?”

“You’re touch-starved, Y/n,” Wonwoo states matter-of-factly, “you need to be touched.” 

“Touch-starved?” you echo, a bewildered expression on your face.

“We can also just hug, like yesterday,” he suggests calmly. You envy his collectedness. “I just don’t want you to feel bad. So please. Come sit.”

To emphasize, Wonwoo pats his thighs again, patiently. You step away from your bag with hesitating steps, pursing your lips. Your cheeks blaze when you look at his thighs again - they’re so long, and the folds in his slacks stretch down and centralize on his crotch and- You’re being a pervert. 

“Okay,” you squeak and Wonwoo tuts. Why is that hot, you think, why the hell is that hot?

“We can just hug if you-” 

You feel bold.

Without letting him finish, you swing your leg over his, and plop down, straddling halfway down his thighs. You thank God you put pants on this morning instead of a skirt, when you look down at where you rest on top of him. 

Wonwoo is a little taken aback, but when you’ve settled on him, his hands find your waist and he looks up at you with a hum. Your breathing is a little shaky. Once again his hands provide a pumping of golden joy into your body, and more of you comes alive and becomes real, and you smile. 

What had Wonwoo been talking about? Touch-starved?

“What’s, um-” your question is cut off with a gasp, when Wonwoo uses his hands on your middle to tug you closer. You rest on the highest point of thighs that you can without sitting on his dick. Cheeks red and eyes squeezed shut, you hear how Wonwoo hums, pleased. “What were you talking about? Touch-starved?” you whisper, keeping your eyes shut. 

Wonwoo sighs, and once more, like the movement is entirely replayed, his hand finds your hair and pushes your face into the crook of his neck. You sigh against it, enjoying how his arms protect you and hide you from the evil of the world. 

“If you don’t touch anyone,” Wonwoo begins, his voice low bass in your ear, “you become touch-starved. That’s why you reacted the way you did yesterday.” 

His hands run up and down your sides. 

“But- but I’m not crying today,” you say quietly into his neck. Wonwoo hums.

“No, that’s good,” he says. “We can stop if you really want, I just wa-”

“No!” your voice squeaks immediately, and, as if he were running from you, you fist his shirt to keep him close. 

“Okay,” there’s a smile in Wonwoo’s voice. You can’t see it but you can imagine it. 

Comfortable silence. Wonwoo traces patterns on your back and you breathe deeply against the skin of his neck. The two of you function as one living thing, the only living thing left in the office. Chairs are turned halfway, a couple lights are left on. The desks betray the past presence of humans. 

“Wonwoo,” you pip. 

“Mhm?” 

“You don’t have to do this, you know? I don’t want you to do it if you- if it’s just.. Pity.” 

Wonwoo sighs, and you feel the way his torso deflates underneath you. He trails his hand up from your back to tap your cheek. You move back and look at him. 

Your faces are very close, you can feel how your exhales collide and then scatter, hell, you think you could count each of his eyelashes from here. 

“I already told you. I’m doing this because I don’t want you to feel bad. I-” he hesitates for a moment, pursing his lips. “I’ve been there. So I know what it’s like.” 

The thought of Wonwoo feeling like this, like you, is sickening. Genuinely sickening, you feel your insides turn to rot and mold and you frown so deeply, you think your lips might forever lock in that position. 

“I’m okay now,” he reassures, reading you immediately. His hand finds your cheek and he almost cries out at the way you lean into it blindly. 

“How did you-.. I- I always thought it was, like, a lifelong curse,” you say.

“A curse?” Wonwoo grins, thumb stroking over the skin of your cheek. It makes you happy, it makes you feel like your heart will burst. 

“Yeah. I guess I just blamed some old woman from my hometown,” you giggle, blushing a little because, yes, it did sound stupid when you weren’t just echoing the theory to yourself, like playing a team sport alone. 

“You’re not cursed,” Wonwoo promises, tucking your head into his chest. “I’ll help you, don’t worry. I’ll take care of you from now on.” 

He does take care of you. 

Every day you work overtime, and every day when you’re done with work, Wonwoo slides you into his lap and holds you, while you curl up in his chest. Then you talk and you laugh, and you listen to each other's music. His hands run warm up your back and in your hair and on your hips, gentle caresses, deeply intimate. For two weeks you and Wonwoo indulge in this nighttime ritual. 

You have not felt lonely since that night. And Wonwoo can tell. Your skin is warmer and brighter, you smile wider, your eyes twinkle, and there’s energy in every movement. Your body thaws under his warm hands every night, and sometimes when you smile, he gets so happy he could kiss you. 

You realize you like Wonwoo one particular night when you’re falling asleep in your bed and you can still feel the ghost of his arms around you and it lulls you into a deep, dreamless sleep, and when you wake up you smell a little bit like his cologne. That’s how you realize. You like how considerate and how gentle he is, you like how sweet he is to you, you like how he looks when he smiles and when he laughs and you like how much he loves his cat. You like how his arms feel wrapped around you. 

And you like him, and suddenly your apartment is a song that you dance in, and every photo on your walls is smiling and your bed is always warm and so is your heart. 

There’s nothing dead in here, you think, when you cook a delicious meal on the stovetop, sauce bubbling in a stainless steel pan. Nothing haunted about your home or your heart. _____________________________

“We’re almost done.” 

“Mhm.” 

“I can’t believe we’re almost done!” 

Wonwoo looks up, bemused, lips made small and pointed. You’re staring at the almost-done document, scrolling up and down through long and arduous paragraphs. It’s nighttime again - not that you had to stay late today, it was a choice - and the city glimmers brilliantly in the coolness. You and Wonwoo wear sweaters to keep warm. 

“Feels like a lifetime,” Wonwoo murmurs, same smile upon his beautiful face. His cheekbones point out from beneath his skin. 

“Yeah,” you breathe, leaning back. You won’t put your fingers back on the keyboard. Not when it could be done so soon. You look at him, all snuggled up in a brown sweater. “What if..” 

A pause. He tilts his head.

“Well, are we still gonna talk?” you chew your lip dejectedly, feeling a little sad and desperate, but Wonwoo only laughs. It’s a beautiful sound, it’s one you associate with joy. 

“Of course,” he says, as his laughter quiets down. “If you want to.” 

A shy smile forms on your lips. You turn to look back at the computer, but you hear the now-familiar sound of Wonwoo patting his thighs. You flit your eyes back to him, teasingly scolding.

“We’re not done.” 

“We don’t have to be done now,” he shrugs, an equally teasing smile on his lips. You roll your eyes, but, unsurprisingly, you shift over to him, sitting down in his lap. He immediately tugs you closer, fingers searching for stimulation on the seams of your jeans. There’s something different about Wonwoo today, you realize, his touch is more feverish, his fingers dig deeper into the fat of your hips and he looks up at you like you’re a diamond-encrusted chandelier, hanging from the ceiling, all glittering jewels. 

“What’s up?” you giggle nervously. It’s becoming hard to breathe with the way he paws at your hips. 

There’s something in the air between you, but maybe you’re imagining it. Maybe it’s your mind playing tricks on you, concocting the magnetic pull that lingers between you, the thicker, heavier air, that urges you closer. 

He sighs heavily, as if he was dreading this. All of a sudden composed, cool, icy Wonwoo is chewing his lip and avoiding your eyes, looking instead down where your fat gives way for his needy fingers. 

“I, uh, I really like you, Y/n,” his voice shakes. “Would you. Maybe. Want to go out some time?” 

At the last syllable his gaze locks on to yours, and you watch him visibly relax, because you’re fucking grinning. 

Not maliciously, not crudely, not a dime or a dab of evil, only genuine joy. 

“I-I would like that,” you control your smile, pointing your lips in the same way that Wonwoo does and blushing all over. Wonwoo grins too and it’s unbearably boyish. 

“Okay,” he says, as if he can’t believe it. “Okay. Great.” 

The window slams shut, the spell is undone by his hand, the dead defy their only law to bow to his necromancy. Wonwoo is alive and warm underneath you, and you are alive and warm on top of him, thighs pushed up against his and tugging at the fabric of his shirt. Your balloon of heart pops in your chest, and the bone-cage of your chest is filled with helium, that has you floating. Rosy and shiny, your heart beats at twice its normal speed.

There’s a lull in the conversation. It would’ve been a more comfortable silence, if you couldn’t see by how Wonwoo looks down and purses his lips, that he’s itching to say more. 

Sparked by his confession, you confidently snake your hand up to tap his cheek lazily. He turns to you with a loafy smile. “What is it?” 

He breathes out unsteadily.

“You’re-” he closes his eyes. “There’s so much I like about you. It- It makes me feel really bad that you weren’t feeling well, so I-” 

He cringes at himself, one hand pushing away his glasses to rub the eyes underneath them. 

“Can I make you feel better?” he asks vaguely. 

You huff out a laugh. “Are you trying to ask if I want to have sex?” 

He laughs too, behind his big hand. “No. It’s not the same, I want it to be about you!” 

You laugh more, and Wonwoo’s face reappears as he lowers his hand. He looks up at you adoringly, dotingly. He’s smiling.

“I’m being serious,” he says quietly, when you finish. He seems less embarrassed now, more so smug. “I want to make you feel good.” 

He’s paying an awful lot of attention to your hips, which he has not let up massaging and squeezing roughly. 

“Can I..?” he begins, eyes fixed on your hips in his lap. “Can I make you cum?” 

Then, slowly, Wonwoo lifts his hands and gently places them around on your face. His touch is always as soft as a hope-laced wind. He’s warm and he’s alive and he’s holding onto you, and you see it in his eyes: you’re real, you’re right underneath my fingertips. 

“Please.”

That’s all he needs, before he presses his lips against yours.

The kiss is everything you want it to be; because it’s loving. It’s slow, it’s deep, it’s gentle, there’s no tongue, just the soft, warm, real, alive flows of his lips against your own. His hands on both of your cheeks caress your cheekbones gently, and warm air is spilled in the small space between you. He pulls away, panting. 

“I don’t understand it,” he mumbles, before he’s pressing his lips back to yours hungrily. You let out a confused hum, and you have to gently push at his shoulder to back him off again. “What do you mean?” you ask.

“Why you were so alone,” he breathes, transfixed on your lips. “I want to be with you all the time.” 

Before you can respond, Wonwoo grips the underside of your thighs, lifting you and himself from the chair and placing you on the desk. You gasp at the impact when the glass table meets your bottom, and Wonwoo is standing over you, suddenly so tall and so broad, and slimming at the waist. His narrow eyes become hooded behind the reflection of his glasses. His head is tilted down to meet yours.

“Can I take off your clothes, pretty?” 

You don’t answer, only grip the edge of your shirt, tugging it over your head, so your bra-clad chest is exposed to him. He groans at the sight. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he mumbles, nimble fingers dancing across your back to unclip the bra, sucking in a harsh breath the fabric becomes loose, sliding down your arms. “Such a pretty girl.” 

“Stop,” you whisper, face warm and red. Your heart has never beat this way. It’s utterly unbearable and addicting at the same time, it’s without rhythm or class, it’s wild. And it’s because he’s looking at you and it’s not just lust. It’s adoration. There are deeper strings to the make-up of his eyes, there are lines connected to his heart, and he’s all flushed.

“What?” he asks. “I’m just telling you the truth.” 

Wonwoo throws your bra on the floor next to him, hands finding the hem of your pants. “Can I take your pants off?” 

You nod, still so shy and abashed, because Wonwoo’s eyes feel like a pink spotlight, and you are bathed in its warmth. He unbuttons your pants and you gently slide off the table to work them off your legs. 

“Your panties are cute,” Wonwoo remarks (it should feel lewd, but he has a hand on your hip, that brushes the bone and he smiles at it). “Thank you,” you breathe, before you’re taking them off too.

Wonwoo doesn’t need to, but he still insists on gently lifting you back onto the table, and he kisses your nose when you’re sitting before him. He’s standing in between your legs, and then he’s looking down at where wetness drips onto the glass table. 

His hand slides down your stomach, resting on the fat of it. He’s smiling, he’s so gorgeous, because he’s smiling the most gentle smile at how wet you are and how it leaks onto the table and his hand is so warm on your stomach, doing nothing, yet turning you on even more than you’d ever been before.

He sighs like he’s carrying the greatest burden on his broad back. “You’re so pretty,” he says, almost exasperated by it. He pinches some of the fat of your stomach between his fingers lovingly. “I can’t believe I get to have you like this.” 

Then the hand on your stomach slides down further. His large, veiny hand cups your pussy, the tips of his fingers just barely teasing your hole. You whimper against him, hands finding his biceps for support. Wonwoo studies you, craning his neck down to peer at your face, while his fingers begin swaddling your folds. 

“You’re so wet, baby,” he mumbles, trying to catch your eye where you bury into his chest. One finger dips into your hole, penetrating slowly and settling knuckle-deep. 

“Wonnie!” you cry out, squeezing your eyes shut. 

“Mmm, clenching down on Wonnie’s finger so hard. My beautiful girl.” 

He begins pushing his finger in and out of you, pace slow and torturous. His other hand slides up and down your body, squeezing your waist then your thigh, then coming right back up to fondle your chest. He pushes your back flat against the glass, so you’re all splayed out for him and you watch him from there, eyes hooded and legs spread to accommodate him. He breathes in shakily at the sight of you. 

“Shit, Y/n. What were you doing hiding all this from me?” His finger picks up the pace, as another finger slips in alongside it. You’re moaning and panting, lips red and hair mussed, unable to focus on his words, when his fingers curl against that spongy spot inside you. Apparently Wonwoo expects an answer though, because he speaks again, voice lower and rougher. “Hm? You didn’t want to go have lunch? What, was it that guy?”

“W-What?” 

“Just some guy,” Wonwoo echoes your past words, emphasizing with a harsh thrust of his fingers. 

“N-No, I- Hng!” you cry out, when Wonwoo’s thumb presses onto your clit. He rubs it torturously. “I-I was embarrassed because I- I was thinking about you!” 

“Oh?” this catches Wonwoo’s attention, as he diligently works his hand within you, staring down at your naked form, fully clothed and tall. “Tell me what you were thinking about, baby.” 

“This!” you cry out, too high off the pleasure to really feel embarrassed about it.

“Pretty, sweet, dumb baby. You were thinking about you whimpering and writhing while I fuck you with my hand, hm?”

“N-No,” you mumble, cheeks aflame. “W-Was thinking about you l-liking me.” 

At this Wonwoo hastily leans over you, pressing his lips onto yours again, and this time his tongue pries open your mouth, wet and warm in the cavern of your mouth. You moan into the kiss, hips canting into his hand. There’s something so desperate about him then, something so eager in the way he crooks his fingers, and how he kisses you, panting and covering your face in warm air. You feel a tight knot in your stomach.

“Cum on my fingers, please, pretty, sweet, baby, darling,” he mumbles into your mouth, rushing out the words before he’s sealing your lips again. 

“God, I think I might fall in love with you.” 

That makes you cum. You cum so fucking hard, clenching around his fingers like an air-tight seal, and your cum spills onto his fingers and his name spills into his mouth. The curse comes out with it, escaping like the air that spills out from an ancient, rediscovered chamber, and dissipating into the night. Your heart is beating and you’re breathing into his mouth, nose brushing his. 

“Good girl,” he breathes, finally releasing your lips and letting his lips fall heavy and wet on your cheek. 

He pulls out his fingers, unbearably wet and slick, and you think for a second that he’ll let you calm down and then maybe he’ll put his dick in you, but as soon as the fingers are out of you, they’re settling back on to your clit, rubbing heavy-handed circles.

You whine, arching your back off the table and wiggling your hips at the overstimulation. His other hand catches your hip and he shushes your cries softly. 

“You can cum again, can’t you, baby? You can take it,” he says, so nonchalantly, while his slick fingers rub you. You cry out. Your legs are shaking. “Think you can cum again from just this?”

“Y-Yes,” you sigh and when you look down, his entire hand covers your pussy, as he pets your clit in circles. He smiles at your words, pinching your clit teasingly. It causes a squeak to escape you, hips struggling against his hold, where he pins you to the table.

“Good girl,” he praises, purring. “Letting me use your pretty pussy like this, letting me make you feel good.” 

His body in front of you prevents your legs from closing, but, God, do they try, knees pinching his thin waist, and hair bunching up on the glass when your face scrunches up in pleasure. 

“A-a-ah!” you cry out. Your hips involuntarily begin to inch away from him, but Wonwoo pulls you back with one strong hand, tutting. 

“Don’t do that,” he mutters, pouting. “You need to be touched, remember?” 

The whole thing is so heart-achingly intimate. The way he stands, still fully clothed and with a huge fucking tent in his pants, simply rubbing your pussy and looking at you with heart-eyes. Seriously, eyes swimming with adoration for you, teasing words slipping from his mouth unable to mask the genuine wonder he feels, at how you gasp and you arch and you clean and you jerk from the simplest of his movements. And your pussy is so warm and wet under his hand, and his body between your legs is so warm, and you cum again from just that; from how much love he looks at you with, and from the fingers crooking to pinch your clit again, wet and swollen underneath his glistening fingertips. 

“W-Wonwoo!” you cry out, cumming again, and your body convulses around his, when it oozes out of your hole. Wonwoo’s fingers gently work you through it. His gaze on you is so intent, so careful and insistent, you can’t bear it, the way he sees you totally lost in the pleasure he brings you. 

“There you go,” he whispers gently, fingers letting up and disappearing from your pulsating pussy. 

“Wonwoo,” you mewl tiredly, pushing yourself onto your elbows to look up at him. He looks at you, so sweetly, so attentively, hands immediately finding your back to stabilize you. “Can I please have your cock now?” 

“We don’t have to-” 

“I want to!” you interrupt him, brows furrowed and lips in a pout. Wonwoo grins at that and though he may deny it, you don’t miss the red that twinges his cheeks. 

“It’s just if you were too tired..-” 

“I’m not,” you say decidedly, and Wonwoo nods. 

“Okay. C’mere then.” 

You’re confused when Wonwoo sits back down in the office chair, fingers working his slacks open. He doesn’t answer to your grimace though, only manages his pants unzipped and in one lift of his hips, peel both them and his boxers down. 

His cock springs free, and your confused grimace is replaced with one of awe. It’s pale and veiny, the head is red and thin, white liquid oozes from it, like melted candle wax. And it’s huge.

You’re too slow to mask your amazement, it seems, because when your eyes return to his face, he’s already looking at you, smiling smugly. 

“Come ride me, baby.” 

You don’t need to be told twice. You slide off the table eagerly, lumbering over to where he’s relaxed against the back of the chair. He looks up at you, all naked and pretty, with a grin. 

The top buttons of his dress shirt are unbuttoned, but he must’ve given up halfway. Either way, the milky plates of his chest are exposed, shining gloriously in the warm office light, and he discards his glasses, face fully exposed to you. He’s beautiful, and you think to tell him.

“You’re beautiful,” you whisper, planting each leg around his, so you’re straddling him. Like your ritual, Wonwoo grips your middle and pulls you closer, but this time it’s even closer than normal. Your stomach meets his dick, all heavy and hot on your skin, and your breath hitches at the sensation. 

“You’re beautiful,” he teases, looking up at you. You smile. 

“Can I put it in?” you ask. 

“As if the answer was ever gonna be no?” 

You snort out a laugh, raising yourself by your thighs and gripping the base of his dick to steer him inside. He hisses at the feeling of your hand grappling with his impressive size, and he hisses once more when the head of his cock buries into your heat. 

His hands on your waist anchor himself while you slowly sink down, until he’s so fully sheathed in you, you think the tip of his cock must be brushing your heart, because it feels like it’s swinging in your chest. 

“You’re so big,” you whimper, clutching his broad shoulders, and scrunching the fabric on top of them. 

“Don’t say shit like that, I’m gonna cum, babe,” he grits out, fingers bruising your waist. You mewl, clutching his shirt. Then you begin to bounce. 

Your thighs flex on either side of him as you heave up and down his cock, the both of you gasping into each other, and clutching each other for stability. 

“Shit,” he pants out, genuinely out of breath. “Fuck, you’re the loveliest girl in the world.”

You cry out, pressure already welling in your stomach and burying yourself in his neck like you’ve always done, and it’s so intimate and he’s warm, and, fuck, he wants you. You can feel it in his grip, in his cock, in his words; he wants you more than anything. The thought makes you wanna cum. 

Wonwoo is not quiet at all. He grunts and whines and his words are strangled and garbled, but frequent, showering you in affection and praise, while you bounce eagerly on his huge cock. 

“You’re so pretty, baby.” 

“Your tits are so perfect, shit.”

“Pretty girl.” 

“Loveliest, prettiest, sweetest girl, bouncing on my cock, fuck.”

Praises spill from his lips in purrs, one after another, and when you cum you can’t help but return it tenfold. 

“Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonnie, fuck! Gonna- fucking cum, I think I’m- f-falling in love with you”

You and Wonwoo come alive. Cum spurts from his cock and into your pussy, and you both cry out, entangled and completing one another in the space where you meet. 

And it’s true, falling in love with him is so easy. And falling in love with you is easy too, you realize, because the second he’s spilled his cum in you, he pulls you from his neck to kiss you so deeply, so thoroughly, you think your lips might never unpuff from his hasty, bitten kisses. 

His cock, now soft, still inside you, his warm chest against yours, his nose nudging yours, his eyelashes fluttering against your skin, the kiss is totally perfect, and you’re warm, and the windows are all closed and fogged up and there’s no curse other than the most fatal and most perfectly tantalizing of them all: love. 

You are not alone. You’re sitting in his lap and you think if you give it a day or two more, you might want to spend the rest of your life with him. 

You catch your breaths. 

“You’re really good at that,” you say finally. He grins again, perfectly undone, hair tousled and cheeks flushed. “Yeah?” he asks. You hum. 

After some minutes of keeping him inside you, kissing lazily, running your hands over his pretty chest and arms, you pull back, beginning to flex your legs to pull him out of you. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, hands wafting to still your movements. You furrow your brows, confused. 

“Am getting your dick out of me?” 

His hands sink down on your hips heavily, fully encompassing his dick again. You sigh at the feeling. 

“Don’t do that, silly. You’re touch-starved, remember?” 

He tilts his head teasingly. 

“So why don’t you just sit snug on my cock, so you can get all the closeness you need?”

#jeon wonwoo x reader #smut #wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo smut #svt smut #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #svt angst #wonwoo angst #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x you

[the-stray-pup]

Jfc I wrote a novel in this one 🙃

#the stray rants #welcome to part two because I’m just that fucked up in the head #tw for literally everything dark because i don’t read my own mind and don’t know what’s gonna go down here #how important is staying clean?? cause I feel like it’s not that important when I know how to control it well you know… #no one would even notice if I did it I mean they never do and if they do they don’t say anything which I mean even better for me right?? #and it’s not like anyone I talk to cares about whether or not I stay clean because I wouldn’t tell them anyway #not that they would care if I even did because no one listens to me anyway. I’m always just talking to myself with no one caring about what #i say. i mean y’all don’t even give a fuck about what I’m saying in here I bet. I bet no one is even reading this and if someone is then #it’s only like one person who once again does not give a fuck. i mean why would anyone care about me? this is the internet. everyone is just #worried about getting off and rubbing one out on here. who cares about some little depressed complainer who hardly has any friends and #complains more than he posts?? i mean seriously I bet everyone wouldn’t give a fuck if I suddenly disapeared from tumblr because they wouldn #even notice. and why would you? I’m not important whatsoever. a lot of people would be glad if I were dead I bet because so many people dont #like me anyway so they’d be happy to see me gone. everything would just be better if I was gone. i wouldn’t have to worry about anything evr #again and I’d finally be able to not feel all this negative shit that hold me back and hopefully I’d reincarnate into a cis guy and actually #be happy for once in my useless life. wouldn’t that be amazing?? I’m so fucking unloved because no one gives a fuck about me. no one cares #about anything I have to say. i have friends but are they really friends?? i doubt they actually like me because most of them don’t act like #they do. i mean why the fuck would anyone like me in any way shape or form? there’s nothing to like about me and I don’t even know how I hav #a platonic partner because I’m annoying anyway. and I’m no fun and boring and stupid and worthless and don’t deserve to be speaking to any1 #i just want to die. is that too much to ask for?? i don’t want to be here anymore. i fucking hate it. nothing is ever going to get better. #I’m always going to be alone and feel lonely and feel like everyone hates me. this feeling is never going to go away and I’m always going to #hate myself because I deserve to be hated. I’m such a terrible person who doesn’t deserve to be happy. i wish I could be happy but I won’t b #I’m never going to find someone who I feel comfortable with in person. especially because I hardly know any trans people and definitely have #never actually spoken to trans people face to face who would ever actually want to speak to me outside of the obligation of school shit so I #would have to deal with disgusting ass fetishy cis people who would only ever want me because I’m trans and that’s it and being trans is the #one thing that I hate most about myself because I’m just so uncomfortable in my body every single fucking day and I hate it and wish I was #never born. I’m so fucking unhappy. i hate it. i fucking hate everything and I have no one to talk to. i don’t even want to bother the peopl #i do talk to with this annoying as shit because why should I make them have to deal with my terrible moods when I don’t even want to?? #i wish I could pass. and I wish my name was changed. and that I was on T. and I already had top and bottom surgery and that I couldb stealth #how much of this am I actually going to be able to handle? when is it gonna be my breaking point? why do I seem to hold more shit each and e #every time?? i just want this all to end and go away. that is all since this is the limit again I’m pretty sure

[cameronspecial]

Rafe x reader where they are friends since in diapers, he’s always been super protective of her and when they were younger he acted super though while she was shy, he was kinda like a shield for her. Has they grow up, puberty hits, and obvi Rafe start to get together with girls but he’s still protecting her from guys that she could potentially get with. One day an argument sparks up and he admits he loves her.

Can't Deal With Your Shit

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Swearing

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.7K

Masterlist

They’ve always been there for each other, from diapers to braces to the stress of waiting for university decisions. As Y/N started to enter puberty, Rafe became more protective of her. He hates if she is alone in a room with another man and always tries to intervene when that happens. The mention of her name in any male group gets questioned by him and he won’t let go until the other males promise to let her be. Hypocritically, he lets himself be all over other girls with or without Y/N’s presence. Y/N appreciated his protectiveness as a pre-teen; however, she is now in her early twenties and has never been on a date before because Rafe keeps scaring everyone off. She brings up this point with him a few times, but he always brushes it off saying that she needs his protection from the asshole guys out there. However, she has met her breaking point. They are at a party that his fraternity is hosting and even though he is making out with a girl, he still takes time to send a glare to any guy, who tries to approach Y/N. She decides it is time to make her thoughts clear to the boy and storms over to him. 

When he realizes she is coming over, Rafe sends the brunette he is kissing away. Y/N grabs the back of his collar and starts pulling him upstairs to his bedroom. The door thuds with her harsh shove. She finally lets go of his shirt with a cross of her arms. “I can’t deal with your shit, Rafe. Your protectiveness isn’t cute anymore and it boards on smothering. I’m twenty-one and I’ve never kissed anyone because any guy who so much looks at me is chased away by you!” she screams, annoyance dripping from her voice. Rafe shakes his head, “You don’t get it. Those guys don’t have good intentions. They just want to hurt you.” “No! You don’t understand how it makes me feel so unwanted. How I feel so lonely because while you are off galavanting with all your girls, I am by myself. How you make me think that I’m naive and stupid because I can’t care for myself,” she cries in a raised voice. Her frustration is on display with the tears forming in her eyes and Rafe stands there. His mouth hinges open while he is processing everything his best friend just told him. He can’t believe this is how he made her feel and he is kicking himself for being the reason for her tears. 

She watches as he steps forward to take her into his arms. He presses a kiss to her forehead, resting his chin on her head, “I’m so sorry that I’ve made you feel that way.” He pulls away from her and holds her at arm's length. He pushes her hair away from her face so it rests behind her ear. “I really have been an overbearing asshole, haven’t I?” he begins. “But I need you to know that you aren’t unwanted. That you don’t have to be alone and that I know you can take of yourself.” She looks at him with glossy eyes, “Then why do you do all that?” “Because I’m selfish and can’t stand the thought of you being with anyone else, but I also know that I don’t deserve you so I can’t do anything about how I feel about you,” he explains. She takes a step forward, pressing her chest against his, “And how do you feel about me?” “Like every time I look at you, the world stops turning. Like I can’t let any air into my lungs unless you send me your daily good morning text. Like I would burn down the world if you asked me to,” for his last confession he brings his mouth close to his ear. “Like I love you more than anyone in this world.” 

He can see the desire in her eyes and decides to put her out of her misery, connecting their lips in a warm embrace. Her arms wrap themselves around his neck to bring him impossibly closer. She is so glad that she has never kissed anyone else before because it makes this one ten times more meaningful to her. Not only is it her first one, but also the catalyst for her new story with Rafe. One with a little less envying other girls and a little more being the envy of other girls. One where she gets to stand by Rafe’s side as he scares others away, instead of watching him do so from the sidelines.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @victory-in-the-llama @drewsmusee @starkowswife

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #rafe #rafe fic #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe imagine #rafe fanfiction #outerbanks rafe #outerbanks #outer banks rafe #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #outer banks x reader #outer banks x y/n #outer banks x you #obx #obx fic #obx fanfiction #obx x reader #obx imagine #obx fanfic

[koliejeon]

Tainted by You - JJK

╰┈➤ 𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: nerd yandere jk x queen bee reader!

╰┈➤ 𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: who would have thought that being tainted by the nerd Jeon Jungkook would feel this good.

╰┈➤ 𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 3.3k+

╰┈➤ 𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: manipulation, gaslighting, dumbification cock riding, fingering, dom jk, sub! reader, cream pie, squirting, size kink, blackmailing, yandere jk, slightly mean jk, degradation.

You're considered the queen bee of your university, the one who's always seen as the epitome of perfection, with everyone admiring how much of a pretty face and a smart student you are. Being looked up to by everyone on this kind of level really boosts your ego, so it's a shame if anyone would know how much of a  moaning bitch you are while riding the cock of the biggest nerd in school, Jeon Jungkook. 

But It's not your fault that he just fucks you too good... 

He’s just too good at it that you can’t help youself coming back for more, even if you fully knew that this would taint your reputation as a queen bee. I mean, everyone’s expecting you to date someone who’s on your level, and not just a nerd dude with a messy curly black hair and thick glasses that just covers his features. 

But to your defense, he’s not what everyone is thinking of him of. That boy who’s always shy around people, and just keeps himself accompanied with his books has a totally different persona when it’s just the two of you alone. He’s not shy, he’s actually arrogant, mean, manipulative and hot…

Yeah, hot… like how hot the depts of hell could feel like.

It all started last month when your stupid history professor decided to paired you up with him for a project. You didn’t have a problem with it, you thought that with this project, he might open up with you and to others instead of being that awkward nerd guy that everyone hates.

╰┈➤ 𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙝

The bell rang as a sign that the class discussion has already ended and that it’s now time for lunch. “You may now leave the class, don’t forget to communicate with your partners and discuss the project” Mr. Lim, your History professor, reminded to everyone as they started packing their things to leave the class. Some replied a simple “yes” to him, while some didn’t bother and just hurriedly leave the room before the canteen seats would run out.

“Y/N, hurry up, let’s go now!” Jennie, who’s one of your friends said to you as she’s waiting for you near the classroom’s door. You smiled at here and was about to say something along the lines of “Yeah, i’m coming,” but you got distracted when you saw the boy in one of the backseats, he looks so lonely in there packing his things ever so slowly – probably taking his time since no one is inviting him anyway to go for a lunch, and for some reason you felt pity for him. “Actually, just go ahead first, I remember I have something to do this time” you lied to her, and she simply just agreed to what you said as she quickly tag along with her other friends.

Now it’s just the two of you alone in the classroom, you awkwardly approach him… unsure of how to start a conversation with him. “Uhm… Jungkook right?” you asked even know the answer is already obvious.  He looked up at you and stared at you for atleast 5 seconds before responding “Y-yeah that’s me” he managed to mutter that out with a little stutter. You thought he was just shy, and you hate it. This is literally the reason why he’s being made fun of by those bullies. You brushed off that thought as you brightly smiled at him, “Great! I’m Y/N, Mr. Lim paired us up for the project. I suggest if we start doing it as early as possible” 

“I’m okay with that” he simply replied.

“I’m free later, are you okay with that? I just don’t know where we can do the project though, My apartment is not that great since it’s small and I’m sharing it with Jennie” You stated, already feeling comfortable in conversing with him even though he’s not literally replying anything and just looking at you. You  guess he’s more of a listener rather than a talker. “Aha! How about we do the project at your place?”  you suggested out of nowhere. The project has to do with arts and crafts, so coffee shops are not the best place to do the project. 

Jungkook eyes seemed to widen from being shock with what you’ve said. He can't even believe it. You want to go to his house??? This is something straight out from his dreams.

“Y-yeah…sure, why not” he was really glad and euphoric that you’ve said that, but his reply came like he was just forced to say yes.  “Great! You can send me your address” you said, and he frowned but not enough for you to notice, what do you mean by that? You don’t wanna go with him together at his house later? “Uhm… lets just go together later” he suggested, and you nervously chuckled, no way your gonna go with him after class, people might see you and probably make fun of you for hanging out with a weird guy like him.

“But-”

“It’s kind of far away from here and you might get lost” he explained without stuttering, while straightly looking in your eyes. Those thick glasses might have cover his intense gaze, but definitely not the tension that’s starting to form in the room.

There’s this something from his aura, it’s like a sudden change that you could clearly figure out, but it surely made you nervous as you gulped. You wanted to say something but you were unable to get the right word out of your mouth, so instead you simply just agreed with him “...m’kay” you said while looking at the ground like a child who got declined by your parents to buy the toy that you wanted in the store. 

Yeah, you wanted to somehow talk to him, but not like this!  You were sulking with the idea and Jungkook found it cute that he smirk at your behavior. He broke the silence by saying good bye to you for now, “So I guess were already settled? I’ll see you at the parking lot” 

╰┈➤ 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙨𝙠𝙞𝙥𝙨 - 𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙡𝙤𝙩

It’s already 6 PM when I headed in the parking lot as I try to spot where Jungkook might be. Classes are already finished at 5:30 PM but I made sure to be late so that no one familiar would spot me getting onto Jungkook’s vehicle. This almost feels like I’m doing some sort of a crime, even though I am not. After a few minutes of searching he spots me and raised his hand to get my attention. I immediately went into his direction and damn… I just don’t know how to feel.

He’s leaning in a black sedan that I suppose is his with his left hand in his pocket and the other hand holding a cigarette. This is the only time that I’ve noticed he has veiny hands. Just what the actual fuck! It feels like I’m looking at the same person from an hour ago! He’s definitely not the typical nerd you get to see everyday. I mean, a nerd with a sedan who’s looking hot as ever while smoking?! I was basically gawking at the new sight, and I only got out from my delusions when he cleared his throat.

“Let’s go?” He said as he throw the cigarette on the ground and stomped on it. “Yeah” is the only thing I was able to mutter as I went to the passenger side of his car. I buckled my seatbelt on, and he started driving. He was wearing a ripped jeans and a grey Calvin Clien hoodie that he later on re-adjusted, exposing his left arm that is covered with tattoos. Do I even fully know this guy??? It seems like all those school gossips about him are just pure lies.

He was not lying, his house was really a bit far from the University, not to mention the slight traffic on the way. His house was located somewhere inside of an expensive looking village.

“You live here?” You asked after getting out of his car. The house was big, and looks expensive with a modern touch to its’ architecture. “Yeah, my parents gifted it to me last year” he replied like it was nothing as he guided you through the main entrance of his house. What kind of parents would gift their child an expensive house?! For fucks sake he didn’t even graduated yet or is about to get married. His parents must be crazy rich like those in the movies.

“I already have the needed materials, is it okay for you to wait here? I just needed to freshen up”

“Ugh… yeah sure. I’ll just play some music in my phone” I said, and he simply chuckled before opening the television for me without saying anything. I feel poor being here., well yeah my parents are also well-off, but not on this level!  Waiting for him for at least 25 minutes was boring so I just made myself at home as I watched the movie playing in the television. 

“You should take a picture” he suddenly said which caught me off guard

“I- what?”

“You’re looking at me a little too much”

“No I wasn’t!” I tried to deny it even though it was already obvious as my face became as red as a tomato from being so embarrassed, that I choosed to look on the floor, being shy to even look at him” Inside of my head, I was scolding myself for acting that way, he must have now think of me as a pervert!

He started approaching me, and before I knew it, he lifted up my chin as he cupped my face with both of his hands so that I would look at him. We we’re both looking at each other’s eyes, and then everything just happened so fast, I didn’t even know why I let It happen, but we we’re now passionately kissing as both of our tongues fought for dominance in which he obviously won. We were now in his bedroom but before things could  get even more heated, I tap his shoulder thrice as a sign that I want it to stop. Gladly, he accepted my request and pulled back, “This is wrong” I simply told him, and a that made him ‘tsk’ as his face contorted an annoyed look.

“Wrong? Tell me what’s wrong about this Y/N?!” He answered back, he’s clearly not liking what I’ve told him but him. I can’t just answer him by saying that I don’t want to be associated with someone like him, people would make fun of me, and my reputation as a queen bee who’s always been perfect would be tainted. I don’t want them to think that choosing Jungkook was a bad decision, and that I’ve made a wrong decision. But I just can’t also tell that to Jungkook, I don’t want him to feel bad himself even though those are the true reason. I remained silent without moving a single inch of my body, my hand are still in his shoulder while he’s arms are wrapped on my waist. We were standing in the middle of the room, but even though were close enough, I didn’t had the urge to look in his eyes even though I know that he’s  looking at me with burning gaze.

“What? You don’t know how to answer now? Cat got your tongue? Or  you’re stupid little mind can’t just comprehend simple things?!” All his words hurt like hell, I didn’t even realize he could say such mean things to me, when all I knew is that we was that shy nerd boy at the back of the class who doesn’t even know how to fight back from his bullies. “Stupid Y/N, can’t even explain herself” he continued belittling me and it was all to much that I burst out and cry myself in his chest. He was shocked for a while but then embraced me in his arms as he let me cry all my worries while shushing me down “Shhh it’s okay darling, I know you’re little brain hurts from thinking too much, you don’t have to think, that’s my job, and you only have to follow what I say, right? It’s true, my mind was clouded and it hurts, so I just let him embrace me while drawing circles on my back.

It stayed like that for a while but then Jungkook drop the bomb, “I know you think it’s wrong because it would taint your reputation. Their poor queen bee Lee Y/N dating the nerd Jeon Jungkook? Doesn’t sound good to them right?” I look up at him, unable to say anything, and that just made me tear up more. “I’m sorry” I muttered to him as I buried myself in his bare chest, the citrus scent of his body wash engulfing my nostrils.

“Shhh… it’s okay baby, I know how much you love the attention the campus is giving you, it makes your dumb ego grow right? But the thing is, you ONLY need my attention”

“I’m sorry - Y/N’s really sorry” I said, already at my worst point as I continued to cry. I feel like a bad person based on what’s he’s telling me, but that’s the truth, I’m too self-concious of what people will say to me, I’m someone who starved attention, and I just feel bad that Jungkook has to know that side of me, and I’m now thinking that I hurted his feelings because I was too selfish. So I kept on apologizing “Gguk, Y/N’s sorry, please forgive her”

Jungkook smirked in victory, he knew he fully had you in control, oh just how easy it is to manipulate you. To break you into pieces so that he can fix you again, and then make feel like he’s the only one who can fix and save you from yourself.

“Shh… I was really hurt, darling. What you did was wrong, how come you think of me as a person that would taint your reputation when all I do is love you from a far?” that made me feel guilty more…

“But I would forgive you if…

“If what? Please tell me, Gguk, I will make it up to you, I promise!” I said, feeling determined to fix my mistake.

“If you make love with me. Prove me that you love me, that you need me, and that you’re not afraid to be tainted by me” and so, without much thought, I kissed him deeply, I opened my mouth, inviting him to intertwine his tongue in my hot cavern, as he lifted my shirt and carry me on his bed. I am now laying on my back, the tension from both us rising as I hurriedly removed my pants, leaving me in my underwear. The sight infront of me, him hovering above me as he continued kissing me while exploring every inch of my body had me whimpering in his bed. He started attacking my neck, making sure to leave as many hickies he could so that everyone knows I’m his.

His right hand started massaging my breast while the one started licking and sucking my nipple. The pleasure was just too good to be true, and after a seconds, my buds now sensitive and hardened as I continued moaning shamelessly. The pleasure that he’s giving me was just too god that I started unconciously buckling my hips to his hardened dick.  “Too impatients aren’t you?” he teased, and I just whimpered. He took off my panties, looking at my dripping core, already wet for him. “Please hurry,”  “Easy there, princess we have to to adjust your pretty little pussy first so it woudn’t hurt that much, okay?” he’s talking to me as if I’m some dumb kid, it was embarrasing but it makes me more turned on. Two fingers were pushed in my hole, I was shocked at the sudden intrusion but he soothed it by drawing circles on clit. “See? My fingers are even too much for you, how can you properly take my cock if you’re like that?” I wanted to disagree with him but I coudn’t utter a single word as he started fastly moving his digits inside me. “One more,  please” he only chuckled after hearing that, and I’ve never felt so pathetic in my entire life. He must’ve known that I’m  being dumbly determined just to impress him, but I later regret that when he fulfilled my wish. 

“As you wish, darling” the third finger definitely burned my inside like hell, he’s fingers are not just long but also thick. After some time, my moans got louder and louder as I trembled in his fingers, and before I knew it, I squirted a lot, but he didn’t stop from fingering me, until I was begging him to stop “Ggukie…. To-too much please” and with that he removed his fingers on me...

“You haven’t even got the real thing yet. Plus you promised me, you would make it up for me, right?  I was really hurt you know?”

“Sorry, I forgot” I embarrassedly admitted with a pout  and he only chuckled at me “I know, it’s okay, I’m always here to remind you”

“Have you tried riding a cock before?” his question caught me off guard, 

“What??? No I’ve never! Plus… you’re actually my first”

“Good, cause I will make sure that that person would die, if someone comes first on you before me. How about you become a good girl and right my dick, yeah? Prove me that you’re really sorry” I blushed at his statement but I didn’t bother to disagree with his request, I was at fault and I should make it up.

He’s leaning on the headboard right now, and Ii’m straddling his lap, while he lined up his cock in my entrance. I started moving down ever so slowly, but Jungkook was patient enough. But you know what they say, patience can also grew out easily, “What if it hurts?” I dumbly asked him, knowing that it would hurt more after seeing his size. He’s length is around 7 inch and it’s very thick, “It’s supposed to hurt, Darling” and with that, both of his hands pushed me down on his length, it hurt at first, but after a few seconds of adjusting, it felt like a bliss of heaven. I continued to bounce up and down on his length while moaning loudly as he played with my boobs, “Touch your clit, love” I did as what I was told and it was the best feeling I could ever imagine. Later on, I grew tired and cummed on his dick, but he didn’t stop there, instead he controlled my hip movement as he buckled is hips to reach his high and cum deep inside me. I was already pliant as black out after the session.

You may have not seen it, but Jungkook had the biggest grin of victory on his face, as he removed his now soften length inside your pussy. You’re already passed out, so Jungkook took the time to clean both of you as he covered your body with clean sheets. Little did you know, everything was recorded, from the moment the two of you step in his room. Jungkook would surely play the video sometime to jerk on you, and maybe use it for blackmail if you started acting up. But for now, you don’t have to know anything, what the two of you have, the thing that he made you believe, is already enough for him, cause he succesfully tainted you.

#yandere jungkook #jungkook #bts fanfic #fanfic #jungkook ff #smut #bts smut

[daisynik7]

OMG I love your party idea it's so cool!! how about "slow down baby" by Christina Aguilar for Eren Yeager 💓💓 one of my favs

Slow Down Baby

Slow down baby and don't act crazy, don't you know you can look all you want but you just can't touch

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~2.4k

cw: modern-day au, mutual masturbation, voyeurism, implications of cheating, cheating, sex toy use (vibrator), dirty talk, pet names (good girl, princess)

Summary: Your boyfriend Jean is working late again, and you can’t help but be suspicious that there’s something nefarious happening behind your back. Pent up from not seeing him this whole week, you take this alone time to treat yourself to some much-needed self-care. 

Eren Jaeger knows that his friend is cheating on you, and he hates it. You don’t deserve it, not one bit. When Jean asks him to do a favor to try to cover up his infidelity, Eren seriously considers telling you the truth, ultimately deciding against it because of “bro code”. But what happens when he walks in on you taking all your sexual frustrations out on a little toy? Can he really keep his mouth shut?

Author’s Note: Thank you for this request @shepnicolo! Love me some Xtina, great song for the y2k karaoke party! This was a fun one for me, so I hope you like it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated, thank you for reading everyone! MDNI banner designed by @/cafekitsune. Header image from Pinterest.

“Hey babe. Sorry, but I’m going to be at work late again tonight.” It’s already past nine in the evening when Jean calls you, informing you of this last-minute change of plans.

“Again?” He’s had overtime every day since last week. He’s also been leaving early in the mornings so by the time you wake up, he’s gone. It feels like you’ve barely seen him at all. “How about dinner?”

“Yeah, yeah. I already ate.” There’s shuffling in the background. And maybe it’s just your paranoia, but you swear you hear a woman giggling quietly beside him.

You swallow hard, asking, “Is someone with you?”

“Huh?” His tone shifts, as if you’re asking the most ridiculous question. “What do you mean?”

Immediately regretting it, you rephrase, not wanting to sound accusatory. “I was just wondering if anyone else is working overtime with you. That’s all. Didn’t want you to be lonely there.” The last statement is a lie; you sincerely hope he’s alone and not doing what you’re suspicious of.

He clears his throat nervously. “Oh. Well, yeah, there are a few people here with me, so you have nothing to worry about.” 

Too late for that, you think, listening carefully for any more clues. When you can’t hear anything else, you sigh into the phone. “Okay, sweetie. I’ll see you later then.” You wait for him to respond, but he doesn’t. Quickly, you add, “I love you – ” 

He hangs up before you can get it out completely. 

Jean had been pulling away from you for a while now. It didn’t just start with the overtime. It began over a month ago, when you noticed how glued to the phone he was while the two of you watched TV together. When you asked who he was texting, he answered, “It’s my new coworker. She’s asking some questions about work.” At the time, it didn’t raise any alarms in your head, so you dropped it. Every day, he was immersed to the screen, sometimes excusing himself to take a call outside on your balcony. You resisted every urge, every temptation to eavesdrop on his conversations, look through his text messages, interrogate him further. 

You continue to give him the benefit of the doubt. There’s no way Jean would ever cheat on you. While you haven’t been together for that long, you like to think that you know him well enough to be sure he’s a faithful boyfriend. You don’t even have proof of his infidelity. It would be unfair to accuse him of such atrocities over some silly speculation, right?

Since he’s been in the office late this entire week, the two of you haven’t had sex in what seems like forever. Pent up and frustrated, you take this time to care for yourself, since Jean’s not around to do it. It starts with a serving of your favorite dessert, then a warm bath, soothing the tense muscles in your body. You surround yourself in a comfy robe, brushing your teeth with the full intention of falling asleep as soon as you do the one thing you need to make yourself feel better tonight. 

With all the lights off, except for the dim glow of the lampshade on the nightstand, you snuggle into your bed, untying the robe so it’s splayed beneath you. Inside the drawer, you retrieve your favorite vibrator and a small bottle of lube, pouring a tiny bead on the tip. Spreading your legs wide, you smear it on yourself. Using your free hand, you navigate to your favorite dirty audio, playing it out loud. 

~~~

Eren hates this. Absolutely hates it. 

He’s driving towards your apartment with a set of keys in his pocket and a bouquet of roses sitting in the passenger seat. All because your friend is a piece of shit. 

Eren’s known for a while now that Jean is cheating on you. It started with a not-so-subtle comment in the group chat. My new coworker is fucking hot. That alone disgusted him. Connie, of course, laughed it off. Armin didn’t say anything, probably unsure how to respond at such a statement. It only went downhill from there. 

She’s got the best body omg.

 I’m in trouble now.

This is bad guys lol. 

Don’t tell the girls okay? 

Jean has always rubbed Eren the wrong way, ever since they were kids. But at least he respected him. Now, not so much. Not at all, actually. You don’t deserve this, not one bit. No one does, but especially you. And maybe the reason he can’t completely berate Jean is because Eren’s harboring a secret of his own: He’s head-over-heels for you. 

Of course, he’s never acted on it. Bro code, right? Thou shall not hook up with another bro’s girl, or whatever the unofficial rule is. But what if said bro is acting like a total asshole? And what if this bro would treat you the way you deserve and more? Then what?

It’s because of this stupid code that he finds himself in the most ridiculous, aggravating situation. Earlier in the night, Jean texted the group chat. SOS SOS SOS. Armin and Connie were both busy, so didn’t respond, leaving Eren to answer the cry for help.

Jean explains it quickly through the phone, voice all panicky and guilty. “Dude, I need you to do me the hugest favor right now. I would you owe big time if you could help me out.” Basically, he needs Eren to buy a big bouquet of roses and deliver them to your apartment, where you can see them first thing in the morning. 

“Why?” he asks, irritated by this request.

“I think she’s suspicious. So I need to do something to throw her off the scent,” he explains. Eren can already see the cocky, shit-eating grin on his face. Why is he friends with this douchebag? And why did he agree to do this? He’s complicit in this mess now, not only for keeping his friend’s infidelity a secret, but for helping him continue it. He wants so badly to tell you the truth so you can escape this relationship. At the same time, he’s supposed to have his friend’s back no matter what, even if he is being a massive prick. 

So, he decides to help his buddy out, no matter how much it’s killing him. He meets Jean at an unknown address, most likely his side chick’s place. “Dude, seriously. I owe you one,” he says, patting him on the shoulder.

Eren nods silently, not wanting to speak in case he lets his true feelings slip. Jean hands him the spare keys to your apartment. “Just sneak in and set the flowers on the kitchen counter. She won’t suspect a thing.” It takes all of Eren’s willpower not to punch him in the face, so he quickly turns around to get into his car and drive off. 

It’s almost midnight by the time he arrives to your apartment. Surely, you’re asleep by now, still completely unaware that your bastard boyfriend is cheating on you. Still, he shouldn’t meddle in your relationship, even though he wants what’s best for you, which is not Jean.

He unlocks the door quietly, tip-toeing into the kitchen to set the flowers down, as instructed. He notices your bedroom door is ajar, a faint streak of light coming from the inside, and the undeniable sounds of a man growling expletives like, Come for me, slut. Yeah, give it all to me.

His eyes widen, surprised that you’re still awake, even more so that you’re listening to something like this. Curiosity gets the best of him; he stealthily makes his way beside your door, peering through the tiny opening to get a glimpse of you. 

You’re laid out on the bed, bare and exposed, gripping a vibrator to your pussy. The sight alone is enough to put him into a frenzy. Hearing your soft whimpers from your mouth along with the electric buzz from the toy fluttering on your clit sends him into a trance that he can’t snap out of. Before he can think logically, he’s pushing against the door, making his presence known. 

~~~

“Eren!” You sit up in bed, flinging the toy off to the side, covering yourself with your robe. “What are you doing here?”

He stands before you, a crazed look in his eyes, an obvious bulge protruding from his pants. He stutters, “I’m sorry.”

“What are you doing here?” you repeat, glaring at him. 

His mouth is agape, unable to get the words out. You’re losing patience, watching him struggle to explain why he’s here, inside your home, watching you masturbate. You grab your phone, making sure to exit out of whatever filthy audio that’s still playing, fingers ready to dial your boyfriend’s number when he blurts out, “Jean is cheating on you.”

You freeze on the spot, heart sinking from having your worst fear confirmed. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, staring down at his feet. “I’m so sorry.”

There are no tears in your eyes, surprisingly. Instead, your throat is heavy with emotion as you repeat for a third time, “So, what are you doing here?”

Still avoiding your gaze, he answers, “Jean thought you were catching on to him, so he asked me to bring you flowers to throw you off.” 

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Unbelievable.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you ask, “How long have you known about it?”

“A few weeks.” He looks up at you, saying your name this time. “I’m sorry you had to find out like this.”

After a deep breath, you sigh, relaxing against the headboard. “I’m sorry you’re involved in it.” You smile at him. “And I’m sorry you had to see me…you know.” Embarrassment catches up to you, heat rushing into your cheeks, aware that you’ve just been caught touching yourself with your vibrator, which is still in plain view beside you. 

He steps forward, inching closer towards the end of the bed. “Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong. Jean is a fucking asshole. You don’t deserve this.”

“What do I deserve, Eren?” You peer at him, tears welling in your eyes now, desperate for any ounce of comfort he can give to you in this moment. 

He sits near you on the edge of the bed, keeping his distance. “You deserve to be loved by someone who’s always going to treat you right. Someone who’s going to love you from head to toe.” 

“Someone like you?”

A gentle smile forms on his face. “Yeah. Someone like me.”

No matter how badly you want to close the distance between you, want to feel the love he says he can give to you, guilt holds you back. Sensing your hesitation, he scooches nearer. “Let me help you. Tell me what you want.”

Eren has always been sweet to you. Too sweet, in fact. You’ve always gotten the sense that he cares more for you than he lets on. And maybe it’s because you’re hurt right now, fragile, heartbroken, even a little scornful towards Jean. Whatever it is, it makes you realize you’ve been too busy with the wrong man to notice the right one has been here all along. However, two wrongs don’t make a right. Even with the confirmation of Jean’s adulterous behavior, you’re still his girlfriend until you officially end it, which will be soon. 

In the meantime, you manage to come up with something you can do to take advantage of this moment. 

You let go of your robe, letting it fall to your sides, displaying your nude body to him, arousal wet between your legs from earlier. He watches you carefully, cock straining against his sweatpants, breathing heavily.

“I’m not a cheater like Jean,” you mutter, spreading yourself wider, showing off your glistening cunt.

“I know you’re not,” he whispers, scooting forward, hand drifting to his lap.

Reaching for your vibrator, maintaining your gaze on him, you say, “I’m a good girl.” 

He swallows hard, palming his erection through the fabric. “Fuck. You’re a good girl. Such a good girl.”

“You can look, but you can’t touch. Understand?” Your finger hovers over the button, tip pressed to your throbbing clit.  

He nods erratically, licking his lips. “Yes.”

“Good,” you smirk, turning the toy on, ready to give him a show. “Tell me all the things you want to do to me.”

He shoves his boxers down, cock sprung stiff against his abdomen, the slit shiny with precum, veins bulging on his shaft. It’s the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen, better than what’s-his-face by a longshot, though you might be biased now, given the circumstances. Eren wraps his fist around it, jerking himself off while he watches you tease the tip on your swollen bud. “I want to fuck you into this mattress,” he moans. “Pound this pussy until we break the bed.”

“Yeah?” you purr, pressing the fluttering tip deeper into your clit. “What else?”

“Want to bounce you on this cock, watch you cream all over me,” he huffs, stroking himself faster. “God, this is hot. So fucking hot.”

Pleasure ripples through your body, toes curled from the sensation, so close to your climax with his soothing voice spitting his nasty fantasies at you. “I wish you could fuck me right now,” you confess, limbs quivering from ecstasy, pussy fluttering around nothing, aching to be filled. 

“Me too, princess. Me too. But you’re a good girl. And good girls don’t cheat.” He readjusts himself onto the bed, kneeling in front of you, stroking his hard dick. “I can give you this cum, though. That’s not cheating, right?”

You blindly agree with him, approaching your climax. “Yeah, give it to me. Give it to me, Eren.”

He swears loudly, shooting his load onto you, spilling over your clit, dripping down your pussy. “Fuck,” he groans, marveling at how pretty you look covered in his seed. 

You smile at him, relaxing against your pillows, dipping the tip of your vibrator in his mess. His mouth hangs open, eyes half lidded, watching as you stuff it inside your cunt. 

“Holy fuck,” he whispers, stroking his cock again, eyes fixated on your pussy. 

Do technicalities even matter anymore? All you know is that you want to be loved from head to toe by Eren Jaeger. You set aside the toy, sitting up to close the gap between you, pressing your lips to his. He hesitates before deepening the kiss, tongue slipping inside your mouth, sloppy and eager for more.

When you break apart to catch your breaths, he leans his forehead against yours, whispering, “Are you going to be a bad girl now and take this cock?”

Grinning, you nod, pulling him in for another kiss. 

#eren jaeger #eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger x you #eren jaeger x y/n #eren smut #eren x reader #eren x you #eren x y/n #eren yeager #eren yeager smut #Eren Yeager x reader #Eren Yeager x you #aot smut #attack on titan smut #y2k karaoke party #milestone event

[daemour]

Pairing: Yunho x f! yn, mentioned possible woosan

Word Count: 4002

Warnings: cursing, kissing

Genre: Angst, fluff, e2l, school setting (unspecified), E for everyone

Summary: Getting flowers from a secret admirer was the highlight of your week. But with a certain blonde student disrupting your every day, things may change.

Hello @hotteoki <3 I am your secret admirer! It was great getting to know you and I hope you enjoy this! It kinda got away from me, and I do have a bonus woosan drabble that connect to this so i hope you enjoy it! and can you figure out who was giving the flowers?

-

“Ooh, look how popular you are, (Y/N), you got flowers again!”

Your peace of mind is shattered when you hear your worst enemy, Jeong Yunho walk by and tease you about your secret admirer. “Just because you’re going to die a lonely old geezer doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy my flowers, Jeong,” you snap at him before returning your gaze to the bouquet of wildflowers lying on your desk. Every Monday, an assortment of flowers would be waiting for you, and every Monday Yunho teases you about it incessantly.

Yunho cackles, leaning forward (on your desk, might you add) and poking at the flowers. “What’d you get this time? White and purple lilacs? Cute. This person must really like you, (Y/N)...I feel sorry for them.” He punctuates each word with another poke and you close your eyes, exasperated.

“Jeong Yunho, get back in your seat before I smack you,” you threaten, but it does nothing to intimidate your personal pain in the ass. All he does is laugh and raise his hands in mock surrender.

“Hey man, I’m just saying. You’re so mean to me already, how would you be if they came out and told you.”

You blink at him, barely processing his words before your mouth drops open and you get ready to retort when the teacher comes in and you’re forced to sit down with a polite smile.

“Mr Jeong, please take a seat so we may begin our lesson,” your teacher calls out and Yunho shoots you a smile that you want to wipe off his face before taking his seat.

-

“I don’t understand what he has got against me,” you complain to your friends as soon as you sit at your lunch table. “Ever since we went into college he’s made it his life’s mission to annoy me. I don’t think we ever interacted with each other in middle school. Or even high school! I know he’s my neighbour or whatever, but he could stand to be nicer.”

Wooyoung slurps on his banana milk, not even caring about your issues, but Seonghwa leans forward, always invested in the gossip. Even if he’s heard the same thing from you dozens of times. “Maybe he likes you?”

You scoff loudly at the suggestion. “Ew, no.” You shake your head and shut down that idea. “Even if he did, that’s no way to get me to like you back! What, I fall into his arms? ‘Oh, Yunho, thanks for making fun of me and putting me down at any moment you get!’ Yeah, that’ll work.”

You roll your eyes so harshly you think they might pop out of your head and Wooyoung finally looks up. “Have you told him to stop?” You open your mouth to object but your friend cuts in again. “Or do you just fight him back and keep playing his game?”

You blink owlishly before sighing and leaning back in your chair. “You know, sometimes you can be pretty smart.”

Wooyoung nods happily before it hits him and his head snaps toward you. “Sometimes?”

-

Your usual bouquet awaits you when you arrive at school the following Monday. This week it’s white lilies and you stop to breathe in the fresh scent. But to your surprise, something else is sitting on your desk. A packet of mentos sits plain on the desk and you stare at it for a few unblinking moments.

“Do you like it?” You jump at Yunho’s voice suddenly appearing from behind you.

Of course. You whirl around and point at the offender. “Can’t you leave me alone? I don’t know what I’ve done to make you hate me, but really, dude. What lengths are you going to go to? How did you even find out my least favourite candy? Why do you keep bothering me day after day?”

Yunho stares at you, his eyes wide and you almost feel bad. Almost. But you shake away these unwanted thoughts and narrow your eyes. Wooyoung was right—you let the teasing go on for far too long. “Just leave me alone,” you sigh and plop down in your seat and bury your head in your arms, no longer wanting to see your biggest tormenter. (And yes, you are exaggerating.)

Yunho mumbles something you can’t quite hear but you’re unbothered by it and just steadily ignore him. There’s another pause before you hear him walk away and your shoulders relax. But even so, you can’t help but feel guilt for how you snapped at Yunho. Maybe he really didn’t know you were feeling annoyed.

But no, you can’t bend like that. He’s been bothering you for a good part of the school year and even if he thought you were okay with it, surely he should’ve at least gotten to know you before jumping into teasing you.

You have more important things to worry about anyway, such as your secret admirer. Every time you see a new bouquet on the desk, your heart rate spikes and you can’t stop a smile from growing on your face.

But, the more you think about it, the more worried you are about what the outcome of this would be.

-

And lately, not just flowers have been appearing on your desk. Sometimes, there’s a phone charm, maybe a strawberry milk or two, always something extra alongside it. It’s only made you more curious about your secret admirer, and you can’t stop talking about it to your friends.

In your quest, you’ve narrowed it down to two people, Choi Jongho and Kang Yeosang. Both are in your grade, although you don’t talk to them very often. You just know they’re on the quieter side so would be more likely to prefer secret gifts. Plus, you’ve had projects with both of them so they are at least connected to you in some way.

“Are you just going to spend your lunch doing this?” Wooyoung barges into your empty homeroom during lunch, carrying his lunch as well as a sandwich from the cafeteria for you. He pulls a chair in front of you and sits. “You gotta at least eat. Just because Hwa is sick doesn’t mean I’m gonna feed you in his place.”

You laugh, looking up at him and taking the sandwich. “Aren’t you doing that right now though?” You dodge his swat, laughing as you push aside your gifts of the day. “Anyways, yes. I have my guesses narrowed down, but even if they’re both wrong is just fun to me,” you shrug.

Wooyoung hums, leaning forward to poke at the ring pop. “Can I eat this?”

You can’t help but snort, nodding. “Go ahead. But, you know, I wonder if they’d ever come forward. All I get are gifts and I don’t know if they’d ever tell me how they feel. That's why I keep guessing. I want to know.”

A sigh escapes Wooyoung’s mouth, and he cocks his head. “But (Y/N), what if they don’t want to be known? I mean, maybe they’d just like to be anonymous and just it die after graduation?”

You shrug, meeting his eyes. “I just wouldn’t want to live my life not knowing. Of course it can be scary to confess, but missing that chance would be worse, wouldn’t it? I wouldn’t ever reject them meanly if they turn out to be someone I wouldn’t like. Hell, my two guesses I don’t know if I’d want to date.”

Wooyoung nods, relaxing in his chair. “No, that makes sense. It’s better to get a solid answer than not. Do you think they’ll ever reveal it?”

Yet again, you shrug. “I really don’t know. I would understand if they don’t, but I hope they do.”

Wooyoung opens his mouth to say something else, but before he can, the door to the classroom opens and an unfortunately familiar head of hair pokes through. “What are you doing here, Jeong?” you snap, eyes narrowing. “Can’t even have lunch in peace now?”

A choked sound escapes Yunho’s throat and he looks ready to run back out and pretend it never happened, but he swallows it back and steps into the classroom. “I want to talk to you, (Y/N). I promise it’s nothing bad. Will you hear me out?”

You narrow your eyes and beckon him closer. “Fine. What is it?”

His eyes flick to Wooyoung, who leans back with a face of disapproval. “You can say it in front of me too,” he states, his expression unchanging.

At that moment, you really appreciate Wooyoung. Although he’s the one who told you to set a boundary with Yunho instead of letting him have his fun, he’ll still have your back. Yunho glances at you but you make no move to correct Wooyoung so he sighs and steps fully into the room.

“It’s about the gifts. And no, it’s not a joke,” Yunho quickly adds when he sees your face shift to a deeper frown. “Uh. I was just passing by when I heard you talking to Wooyoung and I figured I should tell you now.”

A sinking feeling starts to grow in your stomach. “No–”

Wooyoung starts to look genuinely regretful that he decided to stay, and you can’t blame him one bit. “It is me,” Yunho confirms. “I wasn’t the flowers.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “You think that helps, Jeong?” You let out an exasperated sigh and a shake of your head. “You’ve been making my life here difficult for the better part of a year and I finally tell you off. And you think adding to my confusion on the secret admirer is going to help? You must be crazy.”

Yunho shakes his head frantically. “No, it’s not just that. Of course, I wanted to show I was sorry but there’s another reason. I…uh. Do I really have to say it in front of Wooyoung?”

You frown, eyes flicking back and forth between them before you sigh and concede. “Wooyoung, could you give him some privacy?”

With a nod and a face of pure happiness at not having to witness what would be awkward for him, Wooyoung practically runs out of the classroom, leaving everything but the sandwich he had brought for you. “What did you want to say, Jeong?”

“I like you, (Y/N).”

Before his words settle fully your head’s already a mess. “What?” You can’t get a full sentence out, just blinking at your classmate, whose ears seem to be turning red. “No, this is another prank, right? You’ve decided that I can’t just have a good time with my friends.”

Yunho steps forward, pleading with his eyes but you scoot back in your chair. “(Y/N), please. I’m being serious. I wouldn’t joke about that.”

“You wouldn’t?” You scoff, even though it sounds a bit wet. “Tell me, why would I believe that? Even if you had left me alone, that doesn’t erase everything else you did to me. You don’t act with sincerity, Yunho. Go away like I told you to weeks ago.”

Yunho frowns and doesn’t go away, only coming even closer. “How can I make it up to you?”

“You can make it up to me by leaving me alone. You can’t expect me to like you after bothering me so much, really now, Yunho.” You shake your head again, standing up and gathering your stuff, pointedly leaving the gifts he had been giving you on the desk. “I should go find Wooyoung now.”

And before Yunho can say anything you leave him standing in the middle of the class as you wander through the halls hoping to pass the time before your next class (thankfully not with him).

-

“Can you believe he did that?” You groan, pressing your face against Seonghwa’s shoulder as Wooyoung awkwardly pats your back. After successfully avoiding Yunho for the next week, you had to call an emergency movie night with your friends to figure out what to do.

“Well, I hate to say it, but I told you–” Seonghwa cuts off his jibe when you glare at him. “Look, (Y/N), you don’t have to accept him or even be friends. But maybe you could just let him try and redeem himself. He seems genuinely sorry. And if you do that and then still tell him no, maybe then you could feel less conflicted about it.”

“I don’t know if you should do that,” Wooyoung cuts in.

Both you and Seonghwa turn to face him with confused looks. Out of the three of you, Wooyoung was the most realistic when it came to Yunho. Seonghwa wanted it to end up like a storybook romance, while you just wanted to never speak to Yunho ever again. Wooyoung had always been the voice of reason that maybe Yunho just didn’t mean it with malice and was the one to tell you to set a boundary with Yunho in the first place.

“Why not?” Seonghwa frowns, shifting so that he can face the two of you properly. “Out of us all, you’re probably the closest to him since you know his friend, San.”

Wooyoung snorts, waving his hands. “Just because I’m friends with San doesn’t mean I’m friends with Yunho. I just think if (Y/N) doesn’t want to have anything to do with Yunho, then that’s that.” He shrugs, leaning over to grab a handful of popcorn but Seonghwa isn’t letting it go.

“But I feel like it would be good for Yunho to learn how to properly apologise,” Seonghwa argues again. “He shouldn’t expect you to fall for him after he confesses right after an apology.”

You bite your lip and look at your hands clasped on your lap. Both of your friends have a good point, and to be honest, before Yunho had started bothering you, you didn’t hate him. In fact, every so often you had thought about inviting him to hang out with the three of you. You sigh again. “I’ll try. Just till the end of the school year, okay? When I see him with his friends he seems like a genuinely nice guy. Plus, wouldn’t it just make things awkward with you and San, Woo? San is one of Yunho’s closest friends after all.”

Wooyoung shrugs, still clearly unhappy but not willing to fight any longer. “What’s the worst thing that can happen? Yunho’s a cool guy, so I do hope he doesn’t screw it up.”

Seonghwa laughs. “Who knows? Maybe in the end, they’ll fall in love and get married and I’ll be the best man..”

You laugh and shove at him. “In your dreams. You just want to be in the wedding party.”

Seonghwa shrugs, leaning over to rustle your hair. “We all know it's true.”

-

“Oh, hi, Yunho.”

You didn't even have to find the tall blond this time. He's waiting by your locker. How did he even find out the number? You have no idea, and you’re not too sure you want to know.

“(Y/N), can I say something?” He holds out a bag with all the gifts you had left behind the previous week. “And you can honestly keep these. I don't like these candies anyway.”

“Uh. Sure? Thanks.” You take the plastic bag from his outstretched hands with only a little hesitation. “What's up?”

Yunho blinks, surprised at your willingness to listen, although he quickly composes himself. “Uh. My friend, San, told me I should apologise sincerely, not just saying sorry and then confessing.”

You can't help but smile at that—San and Seonghwa would probably make good friends. “Well, that would be appreciated,” you joke and Yunho’s body relaxes at your short laugh. “I can't fall in love if you go from bullying to loving.”

Both of you realise at the same moment how badly timed that joke was, but Yunho gracefully ignores that. “Would…would you like to go to the library with me after school today to work on finals?” Yunho almost whispers, as if he’s scared you would reject him. And at any time before today, you probably would’ve. But this time, you offer a small, unsure smile.

“Sure.”

And although your brain is screaming at you, your heart is telling you that this is not a mistake.

-

As much as you hate to admit it, you’ve grown close to Jeong Yunho. and his dumb smile. His jokes that somehow always make you laugh and also want to choke him out sometimes. Even your friend group has warmed up to him. Seonghwa still teases you in private about being with Yunho, but Wooyoung is just as friendly as ever and…also seems to be joining in with Seonghwa on the teasing. You’re not quite sure what to make of it.

But one problem still persists—the question of your secret admirer. The flowers have dwindled, although they’re still showing up. It’s almost finals week and you’re stressing out of your mind over the exams, and sometimes you can’t help but wonder to yourself if the person’s crush on you is dwindling. And why don’t you feel bad about it?

At first, you thought you liked them, whoever they are. You’d smile every time you see the flowers and you were genuinely relieved that your secret admirer wasn’t Yunho. But these days, you look at Yunho, and you wonder what would’ve happened if you had said yes to his confession. Would he hold you gently the way he holds your weekly bouquet to admire it?

“Hello? Earth to (Y/N)?” Wooyoung’s voice cuts through your thoughts, his hand waving in front of your face.

“Ah– Sorry, Wooyoung. What’s up?”

“No, no, you seem distracted.” Wooyoung plops down in front of you, leaning onto your desk and looking up at you with his brows furrowed just slightly. “Is something wrong?”

You shrug. “It’s just that…I’m confused.” You sigh from your bones, propping your head up with your head. “I couldn’t stand Yunho for such a long time, and yet, these days I can’t seem to get enough of him. I look at him and I’m fond. I’m not looking at him and I’m fond. But what about my secret admirer? They’ve been constantly there for me just by giving me flowers. It’s always perked me up. But I don’t think I like them the way they want me to…the way I want to.”

Wooyoong frowns. “What do you mean, the way you want to? You can’t help it if you don’t have feelings for them. And sure, maybe you appreciate them, but it doesn’t mean you have to like them back. It’s not like you’re dating. Hell, you don’t even know who they are. Maybe they won’t give a shit, or maybe they’ll be disappointed but what can they do if they never told you?” He shrugs. “If you like Yunho, just go for it. He’s a nice guy, outside of how he treated you. And a little birdie may have told me that he still likes you.”

You nod, defeated and yet relieved. “That’s true. Hey, Wooyoung.” Your close friend cocks his head, looking at you with wide eyes. “Thank you for your advice. I do appreciate you keeping my head out of my ass and in line. I know I don’t say it enough to you and Seonghwa, but you guys are my closest friends and I love you guys.”

Wooyoung’s smile softens as he leans in to give you a warm hug. “Can’t leave you floundering by yourself, dumbass.”

You slap Wooyoung on the shoulder but don’t break the hug. “Fuck off, idiot. I hope you stub your toe today.” You pause. “Did Yunho really tell San he still likes me?”

-

You can’t stop pacing the park in front of the school. You asked Yunho to meet you there after the last day of classes, hoping to ask him out, but now you’re starting to regret it. What if Wooyoung and San were mistaken and Yunho no longer likes you? What if he just laughs in your face and tells you it was a farce for a last prank before your graduation? You bring your thumb up to your mouth, biting on the nail as you debate between just playing it off as wanting to go to the arcade, or whether you should suck it up and tell Yunho. Or you just ditch him here and go home and eat a big tub of ice cream. The choice is yours.

You’re about three steps into your last plan of leaving when a warm hand grasps your wrist. “Hey, sorry it took me so long,” a familiar low voice hums. “San needed to talk to me. Hey, did you know–”

“Can I ask you–”

The two of you pause before giggling at the cliche interruption. “You go first,” you offer. “I want to hear the tea.” You wriggle your eyebrows at Yunho, making your friend snort.

“Did you know San likes Wooyoung?”

You blink for a moment before a grin breaks out on your face. “Oh, really? That’s so cute! I don’t know San well, but I know Wooyoung’s pretty fond of him. Hopefully it works out for them!” You’re pretty sure you’re practically sparkling from hearing about this. Wooyoung has always been the single one in your friend group—Seonghwa’s dating this one girl from a different area and they’ve been happy for years, and you’ve had on-and-off partners through the years. It would be nice if he finally liked someone.

Yunho nods, pleased. “I hope so too. They would be cute together. Anyways, what did you want to ask me?”

Ah. You’re pretty sure you’re looking a little sick from how Yunho’s barely hiding his concern behind his eyes. “Uh. So. I changed my mind. See you at graduation!” And hopefully never again.

But before you can back out like a coward and never face Yunho again, you catch a twinkle in his eyes and a knowing smile and you immediately have a sinking feeling in your gut. If your fears are confirmed, you’ll make sure to write a nice eulogy for your friend. “...What did Wooyoung tell San and what did San tell you?”

Yunho chuckles. “Same as what San told Wooyoung, who told you.” His smile somehow grows even larger. “Honestly, the only reason I haven’t killed San yet is because I’d like to see him and Wooyoung get together.”

Your eyes narrow. “Well, I’m not sparing Wooyoung that same courtesy. I sure hope San’s able to keep Wooyoung alive.” You turn away, ready to find Wooyoung to beat him up but the grip that you forgot Yunho had on your wrist tightens and he tucks you into a back hug, his other arm wrapping around your waist.

It feels like time stops as you can hardly breathe when Yunho’s chin rests on your shoulder. “You can fight Wooyoung later, but I think something is slightly more important than that.” And before you can say anything, Yunho spins you around and presses a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth.

Now it really feels like time has stopped for you, but all you can do is stare up at him with your face slowly heating up until you feel you may melt. “Uh,” is all you manage to eloquently say, but Yunho just smiles, waiting for you to gather your thoughts while looking at you softly. “Uh. I think that slightly is a bit of an understatement.”

Yunho bursts out laughing at your admission, leaning in again until his nose brushes against yours. “There’s the (Y/N) I know and love. May I kiss you again?”

You’re pretty sure he can feel the heat radiating off your face, but you can’t bring yourself to care as you nod before whispering out a ‘yes’. And, before you can even blink, his plush lips are on yours again. It feels like a daydream, but as your hands come up to cup Yunho’s face, you smile into the kiss and feel at home in his arms.

#pirateadmirer #pirateeznet #wkcnet #kvanity #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez yunho #yunho #yunho x reader #yunho fanfiction #yunho fanfic #yunho agst #yunho fluff

[xhmeusworld]

a perfectly good heart | jeon wonwoo

genre: angst, comfort! bf wonwoo, established relationship

pairings: jeon wonwoo x gender neutral reader

warnings: reader is going through a difficult time, mentions of depression, and reader makes a comment about not wanting to exist

word count: 871

note: lately life has just been throwing me for a loop and as a result, i wrote this. i just want everyone to know that you have a purpose in life. regardless of how big or small, it means so much that you are here and my messages are always open to talk.

no one understands another’s pain. not truly.

words and actions can only explain so much, but no matter what someone says, the extensiveness of the pain can not be conveyed. that’s what you thought.

but as jeon wonwoo held you against him, he swore he could feel everything. the pure turmoil and agony. it felt like his soul was on fire, the flames forcing their way out and racing across his limbs.

the shakes that tore through your body and the struggled breaths through the tears made him hold you tighter, wanting to do anything to provide some sort of comfort. some sort of relief to the despair you felt.

instead, he felt helpless. what could he do? did he have the power to do anything? he wanted to tell you that everything you believed about yourself was wrong. he wanted to tell you that your brain was lying. he wanted to tell you so many things, but he wasn’t even sure if you could hear him right now.

your words from earlier rang in his ears.

“life has no set timeline. I understand that. I hear that every single day from so many people and it’s supposed to make me feel better, but it doesn’t. because then I think about it in terms of years and the longer I am floating around without a plan or a goal, the less likely I am to feel connected to everyone around me. I don’t want to be left behind. I don’t want to be the friend that is left alone; still wandering through life while everyone else has careers.”

the future was a scary thought. wonwoo understood that. the unknown of where you could end up in five years was terrifying, especially with no set plan. but sometimes things like this were meant to happen. maybe you were being led onto another path that you just didn’t know about yet.

“and I feel like I’m such a bad friend to literally everyone. i can hardly muster up the courage or energy to speak to some of closest friends. they have reached out, but i just find myself unable to reply and it hurts because i know the despair i’m feeling is my fault. i am so mentally weak. cutting everyone off makes my soul hurt so bad because I don’t want to hurt anyone, but my brain keeps constantly saying over and over that I’m a burden. I’m annoying. if i reach out, I’m taking time away from their lives; interrupting whatever important thing they have going on. and even through all of this, i’m lonely and i’m scared that everyone will forget me. I know none of this is true. I understand that, but god, I feel so weak and helpless.”

wonwoo wanted to scream. it hurt to hear you admit how lonely you felt and he instantly felt guilty himself as a result of his touring schedule, but you were in no way a burden to him or anyone else in your life. you just weren’t. there was absolutely no way you could be to the l people who loved you the most in the world. you weren’t weak or helpless. you were just scared. he wanted to tell you, he wanted to engrain into your head, that fear was normal. nothing was wrong with you being afraid.

“i’m a disappointment to my parents; to everyone that believed in me. I used to be so happy and now I feel incredibly stupid and I’m just filled with regret and anger. I don’t want to feel like this anymore. I wish I was one of those people who knew exactly what they are doing with their life, but I’m not and I hate it. instead, i’m here with a void in my heart.”

your voice was thick with tears that you were desperately trying to hold back. wonwoo thought you were going to start sobbing right then, but somehow you managed to keep your composure to talk once again.

“i’m just so ashamed myself. I’m so utterly and truly an embarrassment and a failure that sometimes I’m even afraid to face you.”

that’s when your boyfriend grabbed your face, forcing you to make eye contact with him as he insisted almost angrily that you weren’t a failure. you were doing what was best for you. you were trying to take it one day at a time. there was no shame or crime in that. wonwoo was so proud of his person. so so very proud.

“i see no light or hope at the end of the tunnel right now”

these were the last words you spoke before you fully broke down, burying your face into his chest.

and no matter what you thought, jeon wonwoo could feel your pain and he held you tightly against him, tears streaming down his cheeks as well. his grasp tightened with each one of your sobs in hopes that if he only held on a little stronger, maybe he would be able to put you back together. he kissed the top of your head. he whispered that you were safe and loved and that you weren’t alone.

because he knew it hurt to be alone.

#kpop #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt #svt x reader #seventeen wonwoo #svt wonwoo #svt wonu #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo #wonwoo imagines #seventeen fluff #svt imagines #svt seungkwan #svt dino #seventeen scoups #seventeen dino #seventeen soonyoung #seventeen seungcheol #seventeen mingyu #xu minghao #kim mingyu #kwon soonyoung #seventeen angst #angst #comfort #kpop au

[gojos-thot-patrol]

I don’t know bout you but I’m introverted af. How would the jjk dudes treat an introverted and shy partner? 😊

AHH I love this request!! though, I will say I also have extreme social anxiety and I think that may have bled through so keep that in mind!

Now Presenting...

Starring: Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Kento Nanami, and Ryomen Sukuna

Satoru Gojo

Gojo is going to be a hard one to deal with if you’re an introvert, I’m not gonna lie homies

He is extremely extroverted and loves to be around people.

He actually kinda has to be around people, least he lose his frickin mind

But, he does try to do better and pick up on your nonverbal cues

If you guys are out and he notices you getting overwhelmed, he tries to separate you from the situation

And while he loves hang outs, kick backs, nights out ect, he also loves just hanging out with you at home, quietly watching you play games or read together

I will say he does fall into the trap of finding your shyness cute.

Your flustered body language as you try to hide yourself away in social situations, He finds it cute!

And I honestly think he has a little bit of a hard time understanding your discomfort being around friends.

I mean, think about it. He’s a lonely guy with not a lot of friends. Gojo loves to attend social gatherings and hang outs, because they make him less lonely.

Why would anyone want to be lonely?

I also think he would have a pretty hard time giving you space ngl

Like, you just want to read alone but he wants to be right next to you. 

So, you have to be blunt with no room for misinterpretation when you need space. Just like real life!

I don’t think it would hurt his feelings, don’t worry. He’d be happy you can be so honest with him

He does try to adapt to you and your needs, but ya gotta give him some time

Suguru Geto

BESTIES, HE RUNS A CULT IDK WHAT YA WANT ME TO TELL YA

As an introvert who loves loves loves Suguru, don’t date him if you’re an introvert LMAO

He’s always got people in and around his house and all of them want to talk to him. It’s his “Family”

He may even be a little bit upset with you for wanting space from his family

They don’t mean you any harm, they love you! Why do you hate and avoid them?

I think he would “try” To “Help you adapt.”

By that I mean when you start to get overwhelmed, he pushes you past your boundaries to keep hanging out with them.

He would give you a drink to “help you nerves” 1000%

I just feel like being an introvert and dating him would leave you overstimulated all the time.

Not related (But it feels very related) he sees no problem in using the overhead lights and does so liberally. I mean that derogatorily.

Your best bet at getting some space is sneaking away while the others are deep in conversation

If you’re an introvert please stay far away from this man. I'm so serious. For your own safety stay clear

Now, that being said, I do think you can get some quiet time by agreeing to read with him.

But that’s it other than that you’re screwed.

Good luck soldier.

Kento Nanami

HIM TOO BESTIE HIM TOO

He completely understands because he is the exact same way

He's extremely sensitive to your needs and when you start to feel overwhelmed 

And as such, he's really good about getting you away from the situation and to a safe place where you can calm down

He understands space better than any of the other guys because he needs it sometimes too

You guys work because both of you hate everyone else

Ok, that's a bit of an exaggeration but there's truth to it!

One of his favorite fate nights is just sitting with you reading together 

Unlike Gojo, he doesn't see your signs of distress as cute. He sees them for what the are: signs if distress 

Thankfully, he's never opposed to leaving any social gathering early to get you home to recharge your battery

Honestly he probably needs a recharge too

And don't worry, he's not going to ask you to go anywhere else for at least a little while

Honestly, he's the objective best bet for any introvert

He's understanding and gentle about the situation 

All he asks is that you do the same for him

Ryomen Sukuna

Ok, here me out on this one. Sukuna loves that you're an introvert 

….because it means he has an easier time keeping you to himself 

What, you didn't think this would come without a catch, did ya?

I've touched on this before but I think Sukuna is really in touch with his SO’s needs, so he picks up on it the moment you start to get overwhelmed

And his version of helping you re-regulate is to just taking you home because he didn’t want to be round people anyway

Honestly, I feel like he may be an introvert too

But not in a “People can drain me” Sometimes way but in more of a “I fucking hate people” way

He’d make fun of you for it too just fyi

“What? Can’t handle a few humans? Pathetic.”

If someone comes looking for you to hang out he’s real quick to be like “Sorry, her battery is dead today.”

Even when it’s not

Does not understand personal time at all.

Ask him to leave you alone all you want, he’s going to be at least in the same room as you.

Probably pouting because you don’t want to be near him

Have I mentioned yet that Sukuna is a nightmare?

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #satoru gojo #gojo headcannons #gojo x reader #gojo x reader fluff #satoru gojo x reader #suguru geto #geto x reader #geto headcanons #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami headcanons #nanami kento headcanons #nanami fluff #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna headcanons #sukuna hcs

[lowkeychenle]

You're Not Sorry [ZCL]

Content Warnings: This fic deals with infidelity and is very angsty. Please read with caution if infidelity can be a trigger for you.

Description: You and Chenle broke up two weeks ago. The first time he calls you at 3am, you ignore it. Then he calls again. You answer, and you go to him knowing there's nothing he could do to fix what he's broken.

Genre: Angst. All angst. Help. (but also I pride myself on my angst so maybe read it anyway???)

Word Count: 2,218

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x Reader (mentions of Mark at the end, mentions of the Dreamies throughout)

Juliet's Masterlist | Ask Me Anything/Requests

You haven’t heard from Chenle in two weeks. At first, you didn’t want to. Not after everything that happened and what he did. You were perfectly fine with never speaking to him again, but now that he’s been silent, you crave his presence even when you shouldn’t.

At the exact end of week two, your vibrating phone wakes you up at three in the morning. Rubbing your eyes, you sit up in bed and grab it. Chenle’s name sits in big letters on your screen, and at first, you’re not sure what to do. Your muscle memory demands you answer him, because it’s obviously important if he’s calling you at 3am, but you don’t want to go down the wrong path. You don’t want to risk forgiving him simply because you’re sad, hurt, and lonely.

Your palms sweat and your heart races as you continue to stare. When it fades to black again, you finally feel like you can breathe. You exhale shakily, suddenly wide awake at the intrusion of him. At that moment, you decide that you’ll answer if he calls a second time. If he does, it must be important. He could be in danger somewhere.

A minute passes. Two. You think you’re in the clear. It was another lame attempt to get you to talk to him, clearly. None of that matters. You can’t trust him anymore, no matter how much he insists he made a mistake.

3:03am comes around and your phone vibrates again. You grab it faster than you care to admit.

“What?” you snap.

He doesn’t say anything yet. You hear him breathing shakily, but that’s it.

“If you don’t tell me why you’re calling, I’m hanging up.”

“Please don’t.” His voice is fragile, thick. “Please.”

You don’t know where he’s at, but you can imagine. You imagine him in his bed, blinking past tears, staring at his ceiling as he yearns to have you next to him. But you didn’t ruin that image—he did. All of this is his fault.

“I love you,” he whispers.

“Did you need something?” you hiss, pushing the words past the lump in your throat. “Or did you call to make things harder for everyone?”

“Yeah,” he inhales sharply. “I…something happened with the car, and I’m just sitting on the side of the road. The managers don’t know I left, and if I call them, I’ll get in so much trouble—”

“Are you just now learning that your actions have consequences, Chenle?” You don’t mean to sound so harsh, because at the end of the day, you still love him. You love him way more than you should and way more than you want to.

“(Y/N), please.” He pauses.

“What about the boys?”

“You know why I can’t call them.”

Oh, right. They’re even more pissed at him than you are.

“It’s okay if you hate me,” he mutters. “It really is. I don’t blame you, but I need you. Don’t make me do this alone.”

Your heart twists so violently in your chest, you swear you feel a rib crack. Chenle, if nothing else, has always been good at making you feel. Whether it’s happiness, heartbreak, or hurt, you feel it.

“Damn it.” You shake your head, throwing your comforter off your lap. “Send me your location. I’ll come get you.”

“Thank you.” The relief in his voice sends another pang through you.

“Don’t get used to it. And don’t you dare ever do something stupid that I have to save you from again. Do you understand me?”

“Yeah. I won’t.”

You hang up on him while cursing under your breath. After all of this, you’re still going to help him?

Of course, you are.

He’s Chenle, and you’re you. Forever intertwined even when it breaks you into pieces to realize that. Soon enough, all that will be left is the one part of you attached to him—your heart. The rest of you will break down, disappear, but somehow, he’ll have your heart in his hand, squeezing it much too tightly for comfort.

Your phone vibrates once to indicate he sent you his location, and you pull on a pair of sweatpants and run a brush through your hair. Before you know it, you’re driving to the literal middle of nowhere at 3:30am to pick up your ex-boyfriend.

You see the familiar black SUV, the one with the blacked out windows and special license plate, and you park your car behind it. Taking one last deep breath, you stare as he climbs out of the driver’s seat.

Even though it’s only truly been a couple weeks, it seems as if it’s been years. Decades. And him looking exactly the same as the man you once knew has you shaking. You’re not sure what to say to him when he sits down in your passenger seat, but his beautiful brown gaze meets yours.

The lights are dim, but it’s enough to see the redness on his cheeks, in his eyes, at the tip of his nose. His jaw quivers at the sight of you, but that’s when the lights fade to black. The new moon isn’t even enough to give him a glimpse of you. Blue LEDs are all that’s left—the quiet glow bouncing off his skin and making him realer. He’s sitting right in front of you, a longing look on his face as if he’s not the one who fucked everything up in the first place.

“What the hell are you doing out at 3 in the morning?” you ask him, driving off.

“Couldn’t sleep.” He shrugs, hands fidgeting in his lap.

You spend the majority of the ride in complete silence. The radio is off, and all you hear is him trying to breathe normally. You’re not much better, either. You blink back tears, refusing to let him see how upset you are by all of this. If he loved you, he never would’ve done it in the first place. You have to remember that.

It’s not until you pull into his driveway that he speaks.

“They’re so mad at me.” He looks straight forward, neither of you brave enough to initiate eye contact.

“They should be. Deserve to be, actually. You didn’t just hurt me, you know.” You grip the steering wheel until your knuckles pale, wishing he would get out and go inside.

“I’m mad at them, too.” He wets his lips.

“You’re mad at them for what?” You scoff, anger bubbling in the pit of your stomach. “Mad because they caught you in the first place? Or mad because they all agreed to tell me?”

“It’s not any of their business.”

“Oh, right, so you’d never tell me. You’d let me continue to love you when you couldn’t be bothered to give me the same?” You’re not sure where your confidence is coming from. This is Chenle—the man you love, and someone you never imagined would put you in a situation like this.

“It was a mistake—”

“It doesn’t matter. It happened. You fucked up. They’re the best people, you know that? You’re pissed because all six of them are better than you. Because none of them would’ve ever stooped to the level you went. And because you hate the idea that someone else is able to comfort me. What did you expect? That they would comfort you?” Your grip tightens somehow, and you finally look at him.

He’s in tears. The liquid running down his cheeks reflects the luminescent blue, and it’s almost enough to make you feel bad for him.

“It wasn’t even once, either. It was twice. You did it twice.” You let out a throaty laugh, knowing this is the furthest thing from funny.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I never wanted to lose you, ever. We’re supposed to get married and have cute babies that look like you, and—”

“We don’t get to do those things anymore,” you snap, shaking your head.

“Do you hate me?” he whispers. “You should, but I can’t handle the thought of that.”

“Hate you.” You drop your head back on the seat. “I wish I could. I wish I could stop loving you because it hurts so fucking bad. You threw away everything, and for what?”

“I can do better.”

“You don’t get the opportunity.”

“Please. I know I can do this.” His eyes widen and his eyebrows furrow, truly pleading.

“Staying faithful shouldn’t be hard, Chenle.”

“I love you.” His voice doesn’t break. It shatters. “Baby, please.”

“If you love me, you’ll respect my decision. You’ll just leave.” You close your eyes, and a tear runs down your cheek.

He, instinctively, you assume, reaches up and swipes his thumb across your skin. “Life wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“Consequences,” you repeat. “Your actions have consequences.”

Regardless of what you should or shouldn’t do, you lean into his touch. Into the warmth his skin provides that you’re scared you’ll never feel from someone else ever again.

“I’m so sorry,” he says again. “I’ll never forgive myself for what I did, and you shouldn’t either. But please know I love you. I always have, and I always will.”

“Chenle,” you murmur.

“Yes?”

“Don’t call me anymore.” You gulp. “I won’t answer.”

You see the hurt play out on his face, but you know it’s only a fraction of what he put you through.

When he opens the door, the frigid air replaces him. A shiver runs through you, but you’re not sure if it’s from the cold or from the way it feels like your heart and soul are being ripped to shreds for a second time.

You thought he was the one. You thought he was perfect for you. Perfect in general.

You thought you didn’t deserve him, and it’s a damn shame that it took until now for you to realize it’s the other way around.

He stands in the driveway, illuminated by your headlights until you’re pulling away and driving off down the street. You watch him through your rearview mirror, holding your breath as he gets smaller and smaller.

As soon as he’s gone from your sight, a sob cracks open your chest. You scream and cry for all the things you lost, and you don’t even know where to go from here. You’re barely a mile away from Chenle’s when your phone starts ringing again.

Your chest still shakes from the pain, but you answer Mark’s call.

“Yeah?” You sniffle, aggressively wiping your eyes.

“What’s going on?” he asks quickly, voice laced with worry. “I swear, I was dead asleep and then I just…I woke up. And then I saw your location at Chenle’s, and I want to make sure you’re okay.”

You take a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m okay. He was stranded and called me for a ride home.”

Mark sighs. “I’m sorry, (Y/N). You should’ve called one of us.”

“I know.” You run your fingers through your hair. “I’ll be fine. I just need to go back to sleep.”

“Do you want to come here?” he offers. “You don’t have to be alone if you don’t want to be.”

You contemplate for a moment. When the boys sat you down to tell you what Chenle had done, Mark was the one who made sure you got home alright. He stayed with you for that one night to make sure Chenle didn’t show up after you broke things off.

“Can I do that?” you whisper, afraid your voice will break if you speak any louder.

“Of course,” he says. You hear him shuffle around in the background, presumably getting out of bed.

“Thank you,” you say, relieved. “It’s literally taking all of my strength not to turn around and go back to him.”

“Doesn’t matter what he thinks, you’re a part of us now, okay? We take care of our own,” Mark replies. “Just get here safe.”

You say your goodbyes and hang up, switching directions to find Mark and Haechan’s apartment. When you park your car in the lot, it takes a few minutes to work up the courage to get out.

And then you’re standing in front of the building, looking up to the fifth floor where you know they’re at. The air is so frigid, you can see your breath clouding around you. It sinks into your skin, into your bones, but for some reason, it’s the first time tonight that you feel you can breathe. As the chill sets in, so does reality. So does the truth.

A man who loves you won’t do the things Chenle did. He wouldn’t be defensive if his friends told you about it, and he certainly wouldn’t be calling you at 3am, crying and begging for help.

You inhale deeply, tasting the freezing cold as if it’s palpable.

It’s not going to be easy. In fact, it’ll probably be the hardest thing you’ve ever done, but this was the last straw. You don’t want to be in pain. Or feel unloved. You know you deserve more than that.

You promise yourself at that very moment that you’ll never allow yourself to go back.

You’re going to get over Zhong Chenle, even if it tears you to shreds in the process.

It can’t be worse than what he’s already done.

#chenle #nct dream #nct dream chenle #nct dream imagine #nct dream angst #nct dream chenle angst #zhong chenle #chenle angst #chenle imagine #nct imagines #nct #nct scenarios #chenle scenarios #nct angst

[sananaryon]

Boscha and the Collector; The  parallels I did not fucking expect

In For the Future, we catch up with Boscha for the first time since Labyrinth Runners (and her only speaking role since Any Sport in a Storm), and she’s doing... well. She rules the Hexside survivors with an iron fist, a disguised Kikimora acting as her advisor, she has a cool new look, she’s revealed to be attracted to women, oh and also she is the episode’s most prominent narrative parallel to the Collector.

hear me out.

The Collector first and foremost is motivated by being lonely. They have spent milennia trapped in a void between worlds with no company other than themselves, desperate for any kind of company or outside stimuli.This ends up leaving them vulnerable to Philip, who pretends to be their friend and offers to let them out, but actually only wants them to use their power for his benefit. In short, the Collector is a lonely kid who’s vulnerability is exploited by an adult who only wants to use them for their own ends.

And then we have Boscha. Over the last few months in-universe, two of Boscha’s closest friends ditched her for new friend groups basically overnight. Then her entire world was turned on its head with the Day of Unity and the ensuing warping the Collector did to the isles, and she loses her two remaining friends who, to make matters worse, sacrifice themselves to save her, which I imagine left her with some survivor’s guilt as well. And with the adults taken by the Collector, Boscha is suddenly thrust into a position of leadership she was ill-equiped for.

Which is when Kikimora shows up. We don’t exactly know how she got into Boscha’s good graces, but going by the credits illustration and her actions as Miki, we can assume that she comforted Boscha through the difficult times and offered some sense of guidance and stability. Of course, Kikimora doesn’t actually care about anyone but herself, she’s just exploiting Boscha’s vulnerability to gain power for herself. Like the Collector, Boscha is a lonely kid who’s vulnerability is exploited by an adult who only wants to use them for their own ends.

Also both adults manipulating them disguise themselves as someone much younger to seem more trustworthy, Kikimora as a child named Miki and Belos as the middle-aged Raine.

And with that connection established, we can also see Amity and Boscha’s relationship as a parallel to the Collector and King.

When Amity shows up in the Boiling Isles again after being gone for months, Boscha immediately latches onto her. Putting aside the gay subtext (is it even subtext? This girl is hopelessly in love), Amity is someone familiar. Boscha has lost everyone and her world has been turned on its head, so of course she wants to reconnect with the one person who can give some sense of normalcy. You can hear in her voice how frightened she is when Amity is about to leave. But, of course, Amity does not reciprocate, and Boscha has to let her go.

Compare that to the Collector. When he’s freed, the Collector latches onto King, calling him his best friend. King was the one who freed him, and his first real friend given what a bastard Belos is, but the Collector also recognizes King as the son of the Titan, someone they always wanted to play with. Again, we have someone who has been alone for a long time immediately latching onto someone who provides a sense of familiarity. And like Amity with Boscha, King does not actually reciprocate those feelings of friendship. That’s not to say King dislikes the Collector, just like I’m sure Amity doesn’t hate Boscha, but he doesn’t see the Collector as their best friend, and mostly just plays along. However, unlike Amity with Boscha, King doesn’t really have the chance to stand up to and make the Collector listen.

TL:DR: Boscha and the Collector are both scared and lonely kids with too much power who latch onto any sense of familiarity and comfort, which leaves them vulnerable to being manipulated by powerhungry adults.

#the owl house #analysis #boscha #the collector #toh spoilers #for the future #can you tell Boscha is my blorbo?

[i-think-i-did-it-again]

The Tour V

Warning: swearing, smut

This day is shit. Actually shit is an understatement for how the day is. You know you look like complete and utter crap the next day but you don’t care. Everyone stays away from you, including Colson, and to be perfectly honest with yourself, it was fucking lonely. You know that everyone is pretty wrapped up in the tour and therefore doesn’t have a whole lot of spare time to deal with your personal existential crisis but you were pretty disappointed that when everyone returned from interviews and publicity appearances, no one ventured into your room to talk. You’re still not even sure how Colson got into your room last night and it’s eating you alive.

You get a text from Ashleigh around 5:30, informing you that everyone is heading out to dinner at 6 and if you feel up to joining. You don’t even get a chance to respond before Rook comes blinding into your room.

“Seriously, how is everyone doing that?!” you screech as you rush for a pair of pants to throw on.

“Doing what?” he asks with a goofy grin and an eye roll at your reaction.

“Getting into my room without me letting them?” you kick him off your bed with a shove which just makes him roll his eyes again but he saunters over to the sofa.

“Ashleigh gets extras of everyone’s room keys in case we lose them and get locked out of our room or if we slept through our alarm.”

Wait, so Ashleigh knows Colson came in last night?

The thought terrifies you because you can’t really think of a reason as to why Colson would need to come into your room at 2am. What did he tell her to get the key without her asking questions? If there’s one thing you know about him, it’s that he’s not one for answering questions he doesn’t want to.

Or for sticking around after sex.

“What the hell is going on in that brain of yours?” Rook looks seriously concerned as he watches you stand in the middle of the room.

“I…”

You’re desperate to say the words out loud. To tell someone so you don’t feel completely alone and lost in your feelings but you’re conflicted. Rook is not only your best friend but Colson’s too. You don’t want to put him in an uncomfortable position but you worry that you may suffocate trying to keep this to yourself.

“Colson and I had sex last night and then he took off when I went to use the bathroom without so much as a thank you.”

Rook’s face drops and his skin pales. He sits there staring at you for what feels like forever. He closes his mouth and opens it so many times he genuinely looks like a fish. You need him to say something, anything!

“I’m gonna fucking kill him!” he growls, jumping to his feet and striding to the door. You quickly jump in front of him, blocking him from the door.

“No, please don’t do anything!” you beg but Rook has that murderous look in his eyes that makes you nervous.

“Get the fuck out of my way Y/N!”

“Rook,” your bottom lip quivers and his face softens slightly.

“Aw honey.”

He wraps his arms around you and pulls you to him, desperately trying to comfort you. Rook hates when you cry because it happens so rarely, he’s always unsure of how to go about it. He pulls you towards your bed and you sit next to him while he rubs circles on your back. You tell him everything. About the couch, the kiss, him coming to your room. Once you start talking it’s like word vomit. You tell him how conflicted you are, how you’re stuck between wanting to wring his neck and runaway to lick your wounds, alone.

“Has he said anything about why he’s been in such a shitty mood lately?” Rook finally says after a few moments of silence.

“That’s your takeaway from everything I just told you?” you’re completely dumbfounded and your tone conveys that clearly.

“I’m sorry it’s just you’re the first person he’s properly spent any time with in months, I thought maybe it would come up.”

“Yeah in between orgasms he told me his biggest, darkest secrets and we bonded while he braided my hair.”

“Ok, point taken! And don’t ever mention your orgasms to me again.”

You roll your eyes because sometimes you think Rook forgets you’re a woman who has sex. To him, it’s like picturing your little sister having sex. A knock on the door interrupts your banter and you stand to answer it. You’re surprised to find Colson on the other side, looking at his feet and you peer over your shoulder to see Rook visibly tense.

“Are you coming to dinner?” Colson asks, still not looking at you. You can feel the glare Rook is shooting at him because it’s boring into your back.

“I…I don’t know, I’m not that hungry.”

“Listen Y/N,” Colson finally looks up and spots Rook over your shoulder. “Oh, hey man. I didn’t know you were in here.”

“I came to get her for dinner,” Rook’s voice is tight, like he’s barely managing to keep himself calm.

You look between the two of them, feeling the tension building in your chest as they stare at each other. Neither of them makes any attempt to lighten the mood and the atmosphere is physically suffocating you. You have to remind yourself to breathe and you let out a breath you were holding. Rook’s eyes twitch to your face before looking back at Colson, daggers in his eyes.

“Couldn’t keep your fucking mouth shut for at least 24 hours, huh?” Colson shoots his own daggers at you and your stomach drops.

“Don’t fucking talk to her like that!” Rook is across the room and in Colson’s face in seconds.

Even though Rook is a head shorter than Colson, he could definitely hold his own in a fight. You step between the two of them, both their chests rising and falling against your shoulders as you squeeze your way into the small space they allow. Rook relaxes as you stand between them as you knew he would. He would never put you in harm's way and getting in a punch on with you so close would do exactly that.

“I’m not hungry,” you mumble to no one in particular just as Baze and Slim come to your door.

“Jesus, what the fuck is going on in here?” Baze jokes but when no one laughs, he scratches the back of his neck nervously.

“I’m not coming to dinner,” you answer him as Rook moves away. You can tell by the look on his face that he wants to stay with you and be a good friend but he’s torn because you’re sure he’s starving. “You go Rook, order a big steak for me.”

“Pfft, not like you could afford one,” Colson mutters under his breath.

Slim, Baze and Rook’s mouths all drop open. That was below the belt, even for him, especially in front of everyone. Rook looks like he wants to beat the shit out of him and Baze and Slim look like they want to hold Colson down so he can get as many hits in as possible. You square your shoulders and lift your head high as you look directly at Colson.

“Ooo, pointing out my lack of funds, real original asshole. At least if I had money, I wouldn’t waste it on alcohol, drugs and hookers. Unlike some people, I don’t need to pay to have others in my company. I get it all for free.” you punctuate each word so what you’re saying really sinks in for him.

Yeah all these people are my friends because they want to be, not because I pay their salary.

“Fuck you,” he spits at you before turning on his heels and heading back to his room, slamming the door behind him.

After your big blow up with Colson, everyone pretty much scrambled as soon as he left. Rook gave you one last hug before heading with the guys to dinner. You were completely fuming at what he’d said. Why is the money thing such a big deal to him? Is he pissed that you’re making money off him by simply being on the tour as his personal babysitter? Maybe it bothers him that the record label felt the need to hire you to keep him on track. It is kind of insulting considering he’s a grown man.

You decide it’s driving you insane just sitting around your hotel room so you decide to get ready for the concert earlier than planned. The cars aren’t leaving until 8 for a start time of 9:30 but you decide you might head to the restaurant everyone else is at for a drink. You hop in a boiling hot shower, washing your hair and shaving your legs twice to help drain some time. As you look down at your bruised breasts, your mind drifts to Colson and his lips on your skin. You hadn’t noticed until you were undressing for your shower that his fingers had left bruises on your hips from when he held you down as he ate you out. Your nipples harden at the thought and you have to push the images away.

Be mad at him.

When you get out of the shower, you blowdry your hair and run the straightener over it. You go heavier than usual on your makeup but it always makes you feel more confident when you’re all dolled up and you don’t want Colson to see how much he affects you. You wrap the towel around your body as you step out of the bathroom to pick your outfit. You stop dead when you spot a shirtless Colson lying on your bed, arms behind his back, his eyes staring at the ceiling. A cigarette hangs from his pink lips and your insides quiver.

“Why the fuck does everyone keep inviting themselves into my room?” you spit at him.

He doesn’t look at you and you fold your arms over your chest, pushing your tits up a little. His eyes zero in on that movement and you suddenly feel very self-conscious that there’s nothing but a towel between your body and his eyes.

“Only sluts wear red lipstick,” he muses, staring at your chest and your face heats with embarrassment. You square your shoulders and think of a quick retort.

“As I remember, I wasn’t exactly a saint in that bed last night.” His jaw twitches and you see a flicker of lust cross his face as he looks at you again.

Hmm interesting.

“Pretty sure I remember you moaning my name as I came all over your dick, begging me to call you daddy.”

He growls and swings his legs over the bed to face you. You stroll over to him, hips swinging, tits bouncing with every step. His hands are clenched so tight that you can see nothing but white on his knuckles. His eyes are large as he stares at you, lips parted slightly, his chest rising and falling as you stand in front of him, his face directly at chest height. You see him inhale deeply and his eyes flutter. You’re enjoying this game you’re playing with him way too much to stop, even though you know you should.

“Left all those marks on my tits and my hips so I’d remember exactly who I spent the night with. Exactly who ate my pussy so well that I creamed all over his face, like the slutty sinner I am, right daddy?”

A mix between a guttural moan and a snarl erupts from his throat and his lips are on yours, slamming you against the wall. He strips the towel from your body, throwing it behind him. He presses his body to yours, rubbing his hard cock against your bare pussy. You moan into his mouth, the friction heaven on your dripping pussy. As much as you’re enjoying the feeling of being pressed up against the wall, you want to be in control. You put your hand in the centre of his chest and push with force. He stumbles back, falling back on the bed with a thump. Before he can react you’re on him, straddling him. You grind your hips down so you’re rubbing over his growing erection. You flick his jeans open, pulling his briefs down just enough to release his cock. Your mouth salivates at the sight of him. He’s so large in your hand, you’re suddenly intimidated.

How the hell did that fit last night?

You drop to your knees, licking the purple head tasting his precum. He moans your name as you swirl your tongue around. The thick veins in his dick throb as you tease him. You lick underneath from the base to the tip and back down. You take him in your mouth, sucking in your cheeks to create a deep suction. The top half of Colson’s body reels up and he stares down at you between his legs, wrapping your hair around his hand and pushing you down. You gag but push deeper until you can feel him down your throat.

“Jesus fucking Christ baby,” he whines as you bob your head up and down, creating a comfortable pace that has him panting and swearing.

You want to stop. A loud voice in your head is screaming at you to stop. The game you started has taken a completely different turn and you don’t know if you can bring yourself to follow through. The throb in your pussy is begging you to satisfy her but your ego is desperate to teach Colson a lesson. Right as he’s on the edge, the precipice just within reach as you continue to work him with your hand and your mouth, red lipstick smearing his cock, you pull away. You stand, dabbing around your mouth to clean away your saliva and fix your lipstick.

“I should probably get dressed,” you smile down at him sweetly, licking your lips to be cruel.

“What the fuck?” he exclaims and the look in his eyes is pure murder. “You’re just going to leave me throbbing for you like this?” that sentences makes your pussy quiver with desire but you tell her to calm the fuck down.

“Why give you something for free?” you call over your shoulder and disappear into the bathroom, locking the door behind you.

Take that motherfucker.

#colson baker #machine gun kelly #mgk #tickets to my downfall #mgk imagine #ttmdf #colson x reader #colson baker imagine #machine gun kelly imagine #mgk x reader #mgk x y/n #mgkxx #mgk smut #mgk fanfic #colson baker smut #colson baker x reader #colson baker fanfic

[milkywaydrabbles]

dubcon with Alucard Castlevania? If you don't feel comfortable doing it, I will understand! By the way, excellent job! I have read all your writing and it is perfect!

A/N: I'm gonna need everyone to look away from me with this one I cannot be perceived. More modern day AU, roommates, yadda yadda. I'm just gonna drop this here hope you like it smoochies

Dubcon x Alucard

Alucard can’t help but poke fun at you, his silly little roommate. You’re so dumb, the way you sit there and let others take advantage of you. He’d sigh when you come back from another failed first date, cooing and coddling you. ‘Such a silly girl, I told you he’s no good for you’ he’d say, letting you sniffle into his shirt after telling him you got stood up again. ‘I thought he was better’, you’d say, grasping at his shirt when he pet your hair, devilish smirk plastered on his face when you couldn’t see. It’s not his fault you kept choosing bastards that weren’t good enough for you. But you couldn’t see that, you kept finding the worst of them. All he did was make sure they didn’t show up, that’s all. So that you can see how awful they really were. 

He’d dry your tears, mirroring your pout--taunting you. “You need to start listening to me, precious. I know you better than yourself, you’ll keep making the same stupid mistake. Yeah?” You whined, nodding your dumb little head when he spoke to you. “Don’t be mean, Alucard..” You would mumble, letting go of his shirt and rubbing your eyes. He’d coo, kissing your forehead when the two of you would stand up and patting you on your ass, urging you to your room. “Sorry, sweet girl, forgot how sensitive you were. Go get some sleep.”

He’d leave you alone for the rest of the night, jerking off in the room next to you while he envisioned your crying face again. 

You found yourself in front of him, again, ready for another date. You tugged at your dress, wanting his approval more than anything for your attire. “Is this okay, Alucard? Do you think he’ll like it?” He sighed, frowning--his cock twitched in his pants, deciding to ignore it for now. He’d have to go and persuade another mystery date to leave you alone tonight. “I think they’ll love it,” He started, seeing you light up. Poor thing. “Anyone would, you look like a whore.” You teared up, looking down at the hem of your dress, hands bunched up at the edge. “I didn’t think it was so short..” You’d mumbled, before feeling his hands wrap around your waist. “Aw, don’t cry darling girl. Change into something more....modest. I don’t think you’re a whore, but I know how men think.” He spat out his last words with disdain. You listened to him, like always, changing into something he’d approve of.

Much to his dismay, Alucard wasn’t able to get a hold of your mystery date beforehand. Opting to stalk the two of you during and after, finding where he lived. He would take care of it quick. He came home after you, seeing you beam at him with stars in your eyes. He hated it, knowing you looked like that because of another man. It should be him, always. “Alucard! He was wonderful! Really, such a gentleman.” You sighed, taking your phone out, sending the idiot a text. “We said we’d make plans for another date, isn’t that great?” Alucard’s eye twitched, and you looked up at him after hearing him sigh. You frowned, cute pout on your lips like always. “What?” 

“Nothing, let’s just hope he sticks then.”

-

Of course, he didn’t. You didn’t know what you did wrong, crying again into Alucard’s arms as you babbled away how he ghosted you, how you thought everything was good after the date. And Alucard, the ever loving and doting roommate he was, let you cry, bringing you into his lap with a click of his tongue. “They’re not good enough for you, dumb girl.” He taunted you again, running a hand on your thigh as you hiccupped into his neck. “How many times do I need to tell you that?” His voice was steady, light, but you knew he was reprimanding you all the same. “I’m lonely, Alucard.” You huffed with a sniffle. “Don’t you get lonely? Don’t you want someone?”

All he could ever want is you.

“What a silly girl..” He whispered, wiping away your tears and pinching your jaw between his thumb and index finger, making you look up at him. “You have me, I’m all you need.” You pursed your lips, heat flaring on your neck as you looked away. “You know what I mean..” You heard him exhale through his nose, deep, before forcing you to look at him again. “They all hurt you, leave you, make you think you’re not worthy.” You couldn’t help but tear up again, he’s right. They did do that to you. It hurt. “But I wouldn’t--I don’t do that. Isn’t that right, my darling girl? Who do you go to when you’re upset?” He waits, tapping on your forehead expectantly.

“You..”

“That’s right~” He smiles. “Who do you come home to every night?”

“...You.”

“And whose lap will you always, always end up in, hm?” 

“...Yours, Alucard.”

“I knew you could use that brain of yours.” He teased, bunching up the long shirt you opted to wear for the day--his shirt, that he gave you and made him promise you’d wear as often as you could around the house. You tried to close your legs, even on his lap, knowing you wouldn’t get too far. “Come on, sweetheart. Don’t you wanna feel good? Don’t you want me to make you feel less, what was it, lonely?” 

Alucard was a cruel man, but you loved him all the same.

You nodded, and in and instant you were picked up and being dragged into his bed, clothes thrown off and his mouth on you, licking and biting and suckling at all the skin he could mouth. 

“They’re not good enough for you,” He’d remind you, with each thrust of his fingers in your wet heat, taking in your teary face as he finger fucked you stupid. “None of them are. But you have me, you’ll always have me.” You cried out, legs trembling with each curl of his fingers, making you gush on his fingers, first orgasm of the night. 

“They’re all liars, degenerates.” He’d remind you, bending you in half underneath him, bullying his fat cock into your swollen little pussy, kissing the salty drops away. “I’d never lie to you, sweet girl. You know that, right?” He’d thrust into you harder, fucking you until you couldn’t speak. You simply nodded, breathless and whining underneath him. Your ankles up by his ears, hands grabbing at your hips, digging in so harshly you swore there’d be bruises. 

“You’ll always have me, you’re my favorite girl in the whole world.” Alucard wasn’t sure if you could even hear him with how loud you were moaning, how wet and sloppy your pussy sounded, squelching and drooling over his cock. He slapped you lightly on your cheek, trying to get you to focus on him again, fucked too stupid to even open your eyes properly.

“I love you, darling. Do you love me?” He panted over you, pummeling himself deeper inside of you with each thrust. You nodded, getting a harsher slap to the face. “Come on, you can use your words sweet girl.” He spat out, grinding into your hips waiting for your response. “I love you! I love you, Alucard, I love you, I love you, I love you--”

You squealed feeling electricity in your bones, covering his thighs in your cum as you continued to cry stupid on his cock. He let up, just enough to bring your legs back down around his waist and continued to fuck into you, pushing away your hands as they tried to claw at his stomach, begging for just a minute to catch your breath. Alucard wouldn’t stop until he shot his load into your womb, and even then--wouldn’t stop until he fucked his cum deeper into you.

“No one will ever be better than me for you, silly girl.”

#milk writes #adrian tepes #castlevania #alucard #alucard x reader #adrian tepes x reader #alucard tepes x reader #castlevania (2017) #castlevania alucard #castlevania nocturne #i was possessed don't look at me fr #milk kinktober

[not-alien-girl-v]

Lost In Reality (George Daniel)

warning: drinking, mentions of sex

note: this took me like a week to write. im so lonely wish i had a clingy lovesick george

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

r&b music is pumping through the speakers of the club. it’s dark in the vip section where you sit and a bit damp with sweat, everything is.

adam went home early tonight, you all bid your goodbyes and a parting farewell hug to him before he slipped out the door a few hours prior. it’s now nearing midnight and your fresh nail polish is chipped.

you sit alone in the private booth with ross. the two of you are tag-teaming being designated drivers tonight, figuring if you both only get mildly tipsy tonight, you can both be equally responsible enough for your two knuckleheads you’re supervising tonight.

speak of the devil, knuckle head #1 comes waltzing up to the table, looking a little lost, but when his gaze meets yours, he freezes in his spot like he’s just remembered he left his stove on, then squeezes in next to you.

“scooch over, i’m tired,” george whines, spilling onto you over the leather seat and your velvety dress.

you give hime a quick smile, feeling as though it sufficed as a brief greeting to your lover as you continue your conversation with ross. “i saw your dad at the store the other day, it was weird, he recognized me and everything.”

ross chuckles, “what was he buying?”

“i think it might have been like a few apples, maybe a-“

knucklehead #1, however, does not feel quite welcome enough, so he scoots even more into you, hand on the back of your neck, right at the roots of your hair and the other gripping your waist. “hey.”

you pause to stare at him, “hey.”

“and what else?” ross tries through stifled giggles to reanimate your dying conversation. george busies himself placing wet kisses to your neck.

“a carton of orange juice, laundry detergent,” your words are broken apart by george and his suffocating attack to your neck. when he realizes you’ve stopped talking, he uses his grip on your neck to his advantage and pulls you in for a full, smothering kiss. you humor him, not entirely enjoying the taste of tequila on his tongue but bearing it because he’s clearly needing something from you.

he pulls away, surprising that he chose to before you did, and presses his cheek into your chest for a moment, “ross, this is my woman, did you know that.”

“i did, mate.” ross glances back at you repeatedly, making fun of george without even having to say anything. george evidently does not pick up on this one bit.

“and did you know that i love her?”

“mm, it’s news to me. maybe you should let everyone else know, too.” you shoot ross a deathly glare, knowing that he knows how much you hate making a scene and you can tell he’s only joking but the knucklehead didn’t quite pick up on that.

with a cackle, he stands up, much to your horror, clinking a fork onto your glass and pulling you in close to him. you’re mildly freaking out, glad that the music in here is just loud enough that the entire establishment won’t hear this, maybe just the people near.

“everyone! listen up, im sorry. i am in love with this gorgeous woman right here! she is the love of my life! i am going to marry her!”

you swear your heart almost stops as people begin to clap. you try to pull him back down to sit and be out of the public’s eye but he resists. “kiss?” he puckers his lips already and points to them with a finger and you pout at him for only just a moment. you soon realize it’s the sole way to get him to stop, so you cave

you mean for it to be a small peck but he holds you in like he always does, the one thing that never changes about him when he gets drunk like this, pressing his lips messily to yours and holding your head too tightly that it roughs up your hair. you pull away this time, pushing him down to sit in your previous spot in the booth, trapping him in as you sit at the end.

“wow, that was beautiful, george,” ross grins wickedly and you set a mental reminder to shave his eyebrow off in his sleep when you get the chance. he’s a deep sleeper, you might just get away with it

“she deserves it. this woman right here, she single handedly saved my life. i love her. will you go to the bathroom with me?” you don’t even realize the last sentence is towards you until he nudges you with his elbow.

“to do what?” ross raises an eyebrow, wondering why he’s so involved in this conversation that has nothing to do with him.

“so i won’t be lonely.”

with an eye roll, you stand up, holding out both hands to pull your boyfriend up, “come on, big boy.” he laughs at the pet name and it’s not missed by you just how hot he is when he laughs like that, you never do.

he wraps an arm around you and you lead him outside instead of the bathroom, as fun as it sounds to take a piss hand in hand with him, you’d rather get your man home.

he stumbles outside with you, nearly taking you down with him but you steady the both of you with gentle hands on his waist. “hey. you wanna get out of here?”

his sly grin is valuable in your gaze, “any time, baby.”

“i mean, i’m going to take you home, okay?” you realize your second attempt doesn’t sound all that better.

“your place or mine?” he smirks. you decide to just let him have it if it means he’ll agree to leave.

“yours, sweets.”

he calls a cab for you, glad that he remembered how much you suck at doing so.

you snuggle up to him in the backseat while he informs the driver of the address. your rest your head on his strong shoulder and he rests his broad hand on your thigh out of instinct.

“you okay, honey?” everything about him is comforting, from his overwhelming kisses and public proclamations of love to the way that he constantly has the urge to take care of you in any way he can, even when he’s wasted. you almost feel bad about how bad his hangover is going to be tomorrow morning.

“i’m alright, handsome.” adding in the last bit just to mess with him and it works as well as you expect, his cheeks blush and a shy smile breaks upon his face.

“you really think so?” it’s not like him to ask for a bit of reassurance like this so you lean in to kiss his cheek.

“of course. i love you. so much.”

“that’s the first time you’ve said it tonight.”

you kiss his cheek again, “but do you really need me to say it for you to know?”

he smiles warmly, “no.”

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

you sent ross a text informing him that you had left and he replied something about how he had assumed so, doubting the pair of you spent a half hour in the bathroom.

you tucked george in with a loving kiss to the forehead and he was passed out asleep before you even climbed in next to him.

it’s now hours later in the late morning, and he was still asleep when you woke, so you decided to set up camp on his couch, mentally double fisting watching supernatural on the tv and reading a book.

it isn’t until 30 minutes of this quiet time alone that george comes slumping in, groggy and tired but awake. he stands in the doorway, looking around in confusion for a moment. “did we fuck last night?”

“no.”

you’re scared he’s going to continue with this, getting into some speech about how you’ll always have his consent, no matter what. it’s something you already know, something you’ve already established with him, but you don’t think you could ever bring yourself to be intimate with him when he isn’t fully present for it.

you know that he’s the same way when it goes for you, that he’d never lay a hand on you if you hadn’t explicitly agreed to it.

he doesn’t, however, and you’re even more grateful when he shuffles to the kitchen and begins to cook breakfast out of habit. you let him be, coexisting with him in the open floor plan of the room, you with your book and your show and him with the food and the stove.

after a good chunk of time, he returns to you, two plates in hand. passing one to you, “careful, love, it’s hot.”

“thank you.” he doesn’t say anything, feeling like he shouldn’t be thanked for simply cooking you breakfast, it seems like the least he can do.

he settles down next to you and your stretch your legs out over his lap, allowing him to rest a hand over your thighs.

you eat in comfortable silence for a moment until he interrupts it. “have you started your period?”

you almost choke, “pardon?”

“has your period started yet?” he doesn’t elaborate any more, likely until you give an answer.

“how did you know?”

he rubs up and down your leg. “i track it for you. cuz i know you always forget to. it also helps me plan our date nights better.”

“why? i mean, thank you, but why?”

he shrugs. “because i care about you.”

you study him over your slice of toast but decide to leave him be. if he chooses to show his love to you in unconventional ways, that’s his decision and you’ll accept his affection in any way you can get it.

once he finishes his plate, he sets it to the side on his coffee table and begins to busy himself with kneading and pawing at your legs. he focuses in on the fleshiest part, your inner thigh and you continue to study him like an creature nearing extinction.

“this is the best part, this right here.”

“of my thigh?” he nods.

“it’s good thigh. prime thigh.”

“ok.”

he sighs now, not loud and dramatic like you do, but a forced exhale. “i’ve got to go to the studio today, my love.”

“so go.”

“i don’t want to leave you. barely seen you this week. finally got you to myself and i’ve got to leave again.”

“i’ll stay here. i’ll be here when you get back and we can hang out some more.”

“is that too much to ask?”

“course not, babe.”

“thank you. i just love the idea of coming home to you. keeps me going. and i hate coming back here after a long day away and being all alone.”

you giggle and poke him with your foot, “god, you’re so obsessed with me.”

“i know, baby, im sorry,” he pushes off your legs and sets your plate to the side, not caring that you hadn’t finished yet. he crawls forward to lay between your legs and rest his head on your sternum.

“don’t be.”

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

taglist: @itssimpleanditgoeslikethis @indierockgirrl @milkluvr8 @americanangel @butyou-callmewhenyourebored

#the 1975 #george daniel fanfic #george daniel x reader #george daniel fluff #george daniel smut #george daniel fic #george daniel fanfiction #george daniel the 1975 #george daniel #georgedaniel #george daniel 1975 #the 1975 self titled #the 1975 fanfiction #1975 #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 fic

[callsign-joyride]

No More Mr. Nice Guy | Tom "Iceman" Kazansky

Summary: After an encounter with a weird Top Gun instructor, Iceman defends you.

Pairing: Tom "Iceman" Kazansky x f!reader (callsign: Wasp)

Content warnings: Drinking, getting drunk, a weird/creepy guy, attempted sexual assault

A/N: This is very loosely based on personal experiences. (I've had this idea since things happened.) If you know, you know. The person who Dart is based on may or may not be reading this. If he is, I have a message. Hi, sweetie. I just want to know why you thought it would be a good idea to tell the 19-year-old who writes Top Gun fanfiction about your morally, ethically, and legally questionable actions that are supposedly not true. You can't run from all of your problems. - Your "best girl". (I needed to be petty for a minute.)

Word count: 1.5k

You loved being a Top Gun pilot, you really did. Even though you were the only woman in your class, everyone treated you with the same respect. Well, almost everyone. You were walking to lunch with Ice and Slider when Slider had decided to ask you what you thought about Dart, one of the new instructors.

“I don’t know, something about him just gives me a weird vibe. Like, I get it, we’re two weeks into this, but he’s asked me to go out with him for drinks. Just the two of us. It really puts me off sometimes but then I wonder if he’s just lonely,” you said. Ice glanced at you and clenched his jaw.

“He shouldn’t be talking to you like that,” he said.

“Yeah, but we’re both adults. I don’t really think it matters.”

“It’s clearly bothering you, though.”

“A few weird comments here and there isn’t a big deal. I really don’t want to be having this discussion right now, okay?”

Everyone sat together at lunch and the conversations had been going well. All of you had to be back in the classroom by one, so that didn’t leave much time for leisure. Dart walked in and started giving his piece. You always sat in the front, but it started to feel weird once you realized that he would start checking you out any time he stood in front of you to lecture. That wasn’t something that you wanted to tell anyone about. Ice would believe you, but there wouldn’t really be anything to back it up. And as soon as it got to Viper, he probably wouldn’t have believed you, or cared enough to do anything about it. So you sat there, unable to move because you would’ve had to ask him before you could switch seats. 

The class had been dismissed and almost everyone had left the room when he asked if he could talk to you. Usually, having to talk to instructors usually meant going over training exercises and evaluations. That wasn’t the case this time.

“I was wondering if we could get something to eat later. You know, with the three-day weekend coming up, it would be nice if we could have some one-on-one time.”

That set you off.

“How many times am I going to have to tell you no before you actually lay off and leave me alone? This isn’t an appropriate relationship and I’m not a fan of you constantly asking me if we can hang out, just us, because you think that it would be nice if we had time alone. If you’re going to keep me after class just to ask me out, the answer is, and always will be, no.”

“It’s not a date, I’m just trying to be nice.”

“Well you’re being weird. I’ve noticed you stopping in front of me during lectures just so you can get a look at my boobs. No normal person does that.”

“Okay. I’m sorry.”

“Whatever.”

You walked out of the classroom and shut the door behind you. Ice had been waiting outside of the classroom for some time. He had been waiting on you but you didn’t really think anything of it.

“I hate him, Tom. I don’t want to talk about what just happened but I hate him.”

Ice nodded his head and the two of you walked back to the barracks. You walked in silence, but you were mostly just thinking of what you were going to do if Dart kept on bothering you. You could only hope that rejecting him would be enough for him to keep things strictly professional, but even that was a high standard considering who he was. Ice hadn’t told anyone of what had happened, or what he thought had happened, but it was kind of a surprise for Goose to be knocking on your door at 9 PM asking if you wanted to go to the Officer’s Club with the rest of the group. You had figured that this was something that you needed, so of course you said yes and quickly changed your clothes before grabbing your keys and wallet.

It felt like a normal night. After a few drinks, you were starting to feel tipsy. You normally had a bit more control over your alcohol consumption, but the events of earlier had taken up a space in your mind and you needed to let go, even if it was just for a night.

“I’m going outside,” you told Goose. He nodded his head and covered your drink as you walked out. 

“Hey, Wasp,” you heard. Dart had been right behind you, and you were startled by his presence. You had so much to drink that even though he had at most a few inches on you, it felt like he was towering over you. Panic started to set in as he pushed you against the nearby railing and started trying to kiss you.

“I think I figured out why there’s so much tension between us,” he said. You kept on trying to tell him to stop as he continued to kiss you and put his hands on you.

“It’s because you have a little school girl crush on me and you’re too afraid to admit it.”

“No, no. Stop. I don’t like this, it’s not right.”

“Isn’t that what you want, though? I gotta hand it to ya, Wasp, I never really pegged you to be the type to be into this forbidden romance kinda stuff.”

He was pulled off of you and it was like you could breath again, for the most part. You looked up and Tom had him by the collar. It didn’t really seem like he was going to let go. Going back inside would’ve stressed you out more, so you stood behind Tom for some form of protection from this creep.

“Hey, buddy. What’s this about, huh?” He asked.

“You don’t see it? Wasp here has been doting over me since the minute she walked into my class and I’m just trying to ease the tension.”

“What tension? She fucking hates you. And from what I heard, you’re the one making these advances on her. If she said no to your date, what would’ve made her say yes to making out with you? Just curious. I could beat the shit out of you right now but I really don’t want to lose my job, so I’m gonna let you walk away. But you’re not gonna talk to her like that or look at her like that again. And if you don’t want to listen to me and I find out that you’re still doing this shit, I’m taking it to Viper.”

Tom let him go and he scurried off. By the time he turned around to face you, most of the group had been watching things go down. 

“Are you- actually, do you want to talk about this at my car?”

You nodded your head and Tom walked you to his car. There wasn’t any pressure to do anything except stand outside and talk, but you felt safer having this conversation inside of the car. As you told him everything that Dart had done, you could see the rage in his eyes.

“I’m talking to Viper about this first thing in the morning. I don’t give a fuck if I have to drive to his house, I’ll do it.”

“You really don’t have to. I think threatening him like that was more than enough.”

“Wasp, there’s no reason that he treated you like that. He tried to make moves on you while you were drunk. I have to take this to Viper because I don’t know if he’s done this to others, and I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

There wasn’t anything that you could do that would stop Ice or the rest of the group from taking the situation to Viper. What was meant to be a relaxing three-day weekend turned into a very stressful one, because you didn’t know if Viper was going to do anything about what had happened. You knew that something was up when class got cancelled and the long weekend got extended for the extra day.

“I really don’t want to go in there. I don’t know if Viper has made a decision yet,” you said as you walked to the classroom with Ice and Slider.

“You can sit with me. I usually sit in the middle, anyways,” Ice said. No one asked any questions as you took a seat in between Ice and Slider, but everyone was surprised when Viper walked in alone.

“I’ll be stepping in as a temporary instructor. Because of recent events, I made the decision to fire Dart. I also want to remind everyone that fraternization between instructors and students will result in immediate termination of the instigator.”

You had to hide the smile that made its way onto your face. Under the table, Tom squeezed your hand.

Taglist:

@littlebadariell @cycbaby @luckyladycreator2 @idontcare-11 @blue-aconite @maverick-wingman @shawty-fenty @littlemisstopgun @rosiahills22 @katieshook02 @justanothermagicalsara @caitsymichelle13 @smoothdogsgirl @adoringsebstan @cherrycola27 @alexxavicry @mrsjaderogers @mak-32 @thefandomimagines @tallrock35 @caatheeriinee07

#tom iceman kazansky #tom kazansky x reader #iceman x reader #top gun x reader #top gun 86 #iceman #top gun imagines #iceman imagine

[silver-ink-iron-words]

“Are you happy, in this relationship?”

The protagonist’s entire body stilled. “Of course.”

“Really? Because I’m not.”

The two of them were in the most romantic setting the protagonist could think of – a little boat winding lazily down a gentle river, shaded by lush forest on both sides. It was bathed in the soft golds and pinks of early evening.

“I can be better,” the protagonist said.

But their soulmate only smiled. “That’s impossible, dear. You’re already perfect.”

The protagonist’s chest tightened as though boulders were piling atop it.

“You’re smart,” the soulmate went on. “You’re kind. You get my sense of humour. And you have this way of viewing everything . . . [Protagonist], it’s breathtaking to see the world from your eyes.”

“Then why are we having this conversation?”

“You’re my perfect puzzle piece. The matching shoe . . . all that dumb stuff they said about soulmates. But this . . .” They gestured to the romantic scenery. “I wasn’t meant for this.”

The protagonist stared at the slow churning water. “Are you breaking up with me?”

The soulmate gave an infuriating shrug. “I don’t know.”

“Well, alright then.” The protagonist laughed, tight and bitter. “Just tell me when you decide whether or not you’re going to ruin my life.”

“See, this is what I hate about having a soulmate. About being a soulmate. Why do I have to be this wonderful, amazing thing for someone else? The thing you need to live, apparently. Why can’t I just be a person?”

“I never asked you to stop being a person.”

“I’m not making myself clear.” The soulmate sighed. “Just, doesn’t it strike you as odd that they never presented this soulmate thing to us as a choice? Like, of course we were destined to find each other. Of course we’d want to be together forever.”

“Well yeah. That’s what a soulmate is.”

“You’re never just . . . absolutely furious that no one ever told us there were other ways to be happy? That we didn’t have to do this?”

“You’re still not making sense. What could be better than a soulmate?”

“I don’t know. Dinner parties. Family road trips. A bunch of friends sitting around a campfire, getting high together ’til the sun comes up.”

“Those are all things the two of us can do together.”

“But they’re also things we can do with everyone else. Fuck, [Protagonist]. Give me one reason why I have to value one person over literally everybody else in my life. Why do people always insist that I need a soulmate?” Their eyes glistened, and their voice was hitched. Almost pleading. “Sometimes I feel like I’m getting fucking brainwashed.”

“Right. Because loving your own soulmate is brainwashing.”

The soulmate leveled a stare at them. “Do you even love me?”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re good at hiding it. And you never take it out on me. Which, in my own way, I love you for. But I’ll see the dark circles under your eyes. And the moments when you go really quiet. And the mornings where we wake up together, and I can tell that it actually hurts you to talk to me.”

“[Soulmate] . . .”

“Tell me right now that you’re happy, and I’ll believe you.” Their eyes bore into the protagonist. “I’ll never question you on it again.”

The protagonist paused. They had what they wanted, right?

The soulmate seemed to imagine an alternative life for themself full of people and community. But in the protagonist’s darkest hours of the night, they imagined . . .

The mud soft beneath their boots, the invigorating rain splashing their face. The smell of rich, dark soil. The sound of wind in the treeline. Of twittering, of rustling, of life. The budding spring branches, reaching like children’s hands up into the infinite sky.

The protagonist, alone. Just them and the wide-open world. It wasn’t lonely, never lonely. It was a freedom, the likes of which they’d never actually known.

But still.

The protagonist peered steadily at the person they’d always been fated for.

I can’t be the fuckup who couldn’t make it work even with my own soulmate. 

“I’m happy,” the protagonist lied.  

----

Loosely inspired by this post by @aromantic-spinda

A-spec stories taglist:

@feline17ff , @piept , @doublericenobeans , @vioqueenofmushrooms , @pigeonwhumps , @thelazywitchphotographer 

#aro #aromantic #amatonormativity #aspec #a-spec #aromantic spectrum #aromanticism #writing snippet #writeblr #snippet #aroace #aroallo #queer #lgbtqia #queer writing #sorry that this one was a bit heavier than my typical aro/ace stories #but sometimes i really just want to vent the negative #this has actually been sitting in my drafts folder for a LONG time #longer than most of you have been here #i really wanted to make sure that i was expressing my ideas in a way that made sense to people #hopefully i succeeded #not a prompt