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k-hotchoisan · 4 months

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mmmmmm been thinkin abt photographer!san right nd he is know for his boudoir photography but his latest client’s got him in a chokehold like god how is she so fuckin sexy nd he can’t focus at all bc fuck all he wants to do is fuck her senseless— HELP

Your wish is my command Angel! Thank you for being patient 😘

As always, enjoy 🩷

snap.

Synopsis: encouraged by your friend, you give boudoir photography a try after recovering from a break up, you find yourself doing more than just be a model.

Genres/warnings: smut, boudoir photographer!San x model!reader, sexual tension, unprotected sex, cream pies, mention of oral

Taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @voicesinmyhead-rc @pre1ttyies

“Boudoir photography?” You reiterate. Your friend nods.

“A friend of a friend of a friend tried it recently and apparently she’s been full of confidence. Her boyfriend adores it too!” Your friend squeals.

You scrunch your eyebrows, wondering how semi-nude photos taken by a professional photographer in this niche would boost one’s confidence.

Your friend’s eyes dart to you again, and then your phone pings. You look at the link your friend sent you. It’s a referral code for a promotion. You turn to her, gaze still dripping with skepticism.

“Come on, just try it. You’re a lovely person and you deserve to see it for yourself! Boudoir photography might really help at not being constantly self critical.”

You weren’t an entirely insecure person, and you were sure of that. It’s just that, after the rough break up with your ex, and seeing them move on instantly (like two fuckin weeks) with a new partner, undoubtedly was a gut punch to your self esteem, while you were still stuck grieving over the lost relationship and wasted time.

You’ve heard of boudoir photography, but you’ve never actually understood the concept of it, considering that it was niche, and that you don’t really know the point of it. You glance down at the referral link before deciding to just fuck it and sign up.

San is working overtime again, meticulously editing and touching up the photos. It’s become a natural part of him to almost be a perfectionist, whether when on the ground taking photos of the model or the post editing process. But he never loses the sight of letting the women shine naturally through their photos. After all, in such a niche market, they picked him. Definitely, he has his mix of male boudoir models, but the women evidently take up a higher ratio. He understands that one of the most important aspects of boudoir photography is trust and comfort with his models, which has them coming back for more sessions, sometimes even with their partners.

Setting up his own business in such a niche market was difficult of course, and he’s grateful that he’s managed to make a name for himself. But sometimes he’s grateful that his good looks are an added bonus to drawing in his clients.

His email pings and it makes him pause his work. Maybe he should finish it tomorrow. San glances at the fresh email that sits in his inbox.

An appointment via referral.

He opens it, and looks through the client’s information. At the bottom box for comments, sits a short question.

[Just wondering, what should I expect for my appointment? Is there anything I should prepare?]

He takes a moment before he drafts a reply.

[Hey there! Nice to meet you. I’m Choi San, boudoir photographer of Woodie’s Studios. First of all, thank you for choosing our studio for your boudoir experience!

Regarding your question, come in with an open mind. For what to wear, you may bring a set of clothes/lingerie of whatever you feel confident in.

I don’t bite, I promise!]

He reads the reply a second time before he hits send. It’s not as if it’s the first time he’s gotten questions like these anyway. His train of concentration is broken, so he decides to call it a night.

You reach the opaque door of a clean-looking studio apartment. The sign has San’s studio name and logo imprinted on it, so you’re sure that you are at the right location.

You press the door bell and it chimes a lovely tune. There is a quiet pause, before the door handle clicks and the door itself pulls back. Before you stood a really, no, an insanely good looking, tall male. His glasses rest loosely on the bridge of his nose as his small eyes meet yours. His brunette hair is slightly messy. He wears an expression of confusion at first, but it turns into something unreadable. You think for a spilt second that he may have gotten the wrong client, but your rationale reminds you that you did send him photos of yourself so he’s able to recognise you. You blink once, then twice because you were starting to get lost at how handsome your photographer was.

“Choi San..?” you say, with a small tilt of your head.

Then it’s his turn to blink, and he snaps out of that small trance he seemed to be caught in for a few seconds. Then a smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he greets you.

“Hey! Y/n right? Sorry, was tryna recognise you. I promise I don’t usually take that long to process”, he chuckles, pulling the door wider as he ushers you in, reminding you to switch out your shoes for the apartment slippers.

The hallway San brings you down is brightly lit and spilt into a couple of sections which you assumed one of them would be the photo studio itself. A couple of posters of pin up girls hang on the walls, all of them beautiful and stunning.

He then stops at a glass door and pushes it, to what you assumed to be his office.

“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll get you a cup of tea. Any preferences?”, he gestures. You shake your head as you let yourself sink into the velvet couch, gingerly leaving your bag of clothing beside you. San gives a polite nod and excuses himself to the pantry.

And the moment the door shuts behind him, he tears his glasses off the bridge of his nose and hooks the branch onto his collar.

His hand is placed over his heart.

San has photographed many different women over the course of his career, some breathtakingly beautiful. But none has ever made his heart skip a beat and caused his words to be stuck at the back of his throat, not like you did. He doesn’t know what has gotten into him. It wasn’t like he didn’t know how you looked like—the pictures you sent served that purpose. Maybe it was the fact that he never expected you to look like that in real life, and for once, he almost doesn’t know how to react. His thoughts are all over the place as he paces into the pantry to prepare your tea. As he’s dipping the tea bag into the piping hot water, he begins feeling self conscious—was his hair too shrivelled? Did he smell bad? Was there something on his face? He tightens his grip on the mug and hastily makes his way back to his office.

San returns, with a smile on his face as he settles the cup onto the coffee table before you, and he joins you, seated on a velvet armchair across you.

“Take your time”, he reassures. “We can start after this, if you’re feeling comfortable, or we can just talk a little to ease your nerves.” It doesn’t take you much to think—you opt for the latter of course.

San laughs and nods. “I get that a lot, especially from first time female clients. It’s valid of course, having a male being your photographer for boudoir can sound off-putting. Perhaps looking at my portfolio might put you slightly at ease?” He reaches out for a large and thick leather-bound photo album. You let it rest on your lap as you receive it with a soft “thank you”, and flip the album open, and you’re instantly awestruck—San’s work spoke for himself. The models were diverse, both in nationalities and body shapes, all equally stunning and sensual in their own expressive ways. The only common denominator was the glint of genuine emotion and confidence reflected in their eyes.

You wonder to yourself—could you look and feel as confident as them? As you skim through the pictures, you feel yourself falling in love with the models as well—their genuine smiles when they do and the gazes they give.

When San catches himself staring at you being absorbed in admiring his portfolios, he feels his cheeks flush and he looks down, wondering what you think of it all.

“I see why you have so many clients. The pictures are gorgeous”, you say, shutting the photo album and handing it back to him. San flashes a sheepish smile and mutters a “thank you” loud enough for you to hear. The silence in the room remains a for awhile as you sip the tea, letting it calm your nerves. You don’t even know it but the person with actual jittery nerves was San himself, a feeling that he never expected to feel since the last time he did was when he started out this business three years ago.

“So… what’s the goal of being a boudoir model, if you don’t mind me asking? Like was it a long time thing you wanted to try or was it something spontaneous?” He asks to break the silence.

“I broke up with my ex recently”, you respond curtly, before taking another sip of the tea. Damn, this is some good ass tea. San blinks at your reply, unsure of what to make out of the bluntness. Before he attempts to reply, you continue, “and my friend sent me a referral to your studio, and I thought to myself, why not? I want to feel confident in my own skin. Also, I think it’s an interesting way of self exploration.” Your gaze meets his, and it’s his turn to look awestruck. You try to ignore the flutter in your chest when he laughs softly, when his smile reaches his eyes. It’s the way that he’s confident of his craft, and it’s making you warm up to him even more.

Your fingertips tap on the mug softly. Your gaze lands on the photobook once more.

“Does taking such risqué pictures affect you when you first started out?” You ask before taking another sip. San ponders about the question for awhile. He has people asking him that before, but for some reason, he wants to be slightly more transparent with you.

“I don’t see about my clients in a sexual way, even if they physically look appealing to me. In the end, self confidence and comfort always comes first, and I think that’s what I enjoy seeing in my clients when they become more comfortable in their own skin. People don’t understand how difficult it is to fully love yourself”, he replies.

That’s when you understand why San’s photography studio had so many recurring clients.

“Why boudoir? I think sensuality and intimacy is a form of art. It’s beautiful—watching people discover parts of themselves they never knew existed and falling in love. You don’t have to be conventionally attractive to be a boudoir model.

The money’s good, of course, but the satisfaction of watching my clients giving me feedback of them realising they deserve to love themselves more, or discovering other sides of themselves is nothing short of rewarding.”

By the time he’s done explaining, you feel a rush of confidence in yourself. It’s only been about ten minutes since the both of you just sat and talked, but you see that he definitely prioritises your comfort before he even begins the sessions. You ball your fingers into a fist, meeting San’s gaze with determination, telling him, “I think I’m ready.”

San’s eyes brighten up. “Great! You can use the bathroom to the left, and I’ll meet you at the photo studio just opposite the office.” He stands up, opening the door for you, and you bow slightly in courtesy as you head to the washroom to change. San’s heart beats faster, wondering what you’re gonna wear for the shoot.

San is fixing the sheets of the bed, then the studio lights at the perfect angle he wants it to be. His heart is still racing as he walks over to the tripod, glancing over at the door from time to time, awaiting for your arrival.

He perks up when he sees you walk in with a bathrobe on and he greets you cheerfully again, trying to hide his excitement.

You wave back with a smile, letting the environment of the photo studio sink in. The basic package for first timers consisted of a bed shoot, so it’s no surprise you see a bed in the middle of the room, covered in white. The bed looks comfy and you giggle to yourself, wondering if you’d end up falling asleep mid-shoot from how nice the bed looks.

“Anytime you’re ready”, San reminds you, carrying the tripod in one hand, his biceps flexing as he does, and it makes you blush slightly, which was ridiculous. Why are you swooning over your handsome photographer carrying the tripod with one arm? Suddenly you’re self conscious again, your fingers clutching against the black bathrobe. It was frustrating that you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was making you nervous, but you weren’t about to back out.

San continues to adjust his camera on the tripod, and his gaze absentmindedly shifts towards you, and his breath gets stuck in his throat, watching you undress from the bathrobe, revealing a white button up over black lace lingerie. It’s not anything new, but for some reason he can’t seem to tear his eyes off you—the way the panties hugs your hips and the bra cups your breasts, the garter belt hugging your waist and the straps hanging past your panties. He watches you climb onto the bed, eyes shutting briefly as you sink into the mattress with a soft smile.

He’s not confident that he’s able to last through the shoot, not when you’re looking like that.

“Is it too cold here?” San asks, trying to divert his attention from his perverse thoughts. You pop up from the sheets, the collars of the shirt slipping past your shoulders, obviously too big for you. That does nothing to help him with his thoughts.

“No, I think the temperature’s okay. Shall we get started?” You ask, buttoning up your shirt, the white material pathetically sheer that San is able to see the black bra peeking through.

The sight of you in an oversized shirt on, with no pants, just your underwear on is like a meal for San’s eyes. He hides behind the camera to hide his flushing cheeks, only to face your body through the viewfinder, watching you preparing to pose as you position yourself at the end of the bed, turning your body slightly to the side with one leg up, your thighs in full view, with the sleeves of the shirt covering most of your fingers, and your gaze right into the camera lens.

San takes a deep breath. Forty five minutes. He can do this.

“Sure. Ready whenever you are, y/n.”

It turns out to be a very agonising forty five minutes. While the both of you were cracking jokes during the shoot, San finds himself getting more distracted when you gradually remove your shirt, and when your poses grow ever more risqué—at one point you remove your bra and fit your shirt over again, which definitely made San grow very restless when he’s unable to tear his eyes away from your bare chest.

Midway through the shoot, all that swarms his mind is wondering how your body would feel against his, how your bare skin would feel under his hands, what kind of faces you would make when you’re under him.

What kind of noises you would make for him when he fits his cock right into you. He wants to fuck you so hard that your mind goes blank—so good that you’ll never remember your ex.

San blinks, his finger still on the shutter button. He doesn’t know what washed over him, but what he does know is the taut feeling in his pants, and he internally heaves a sigh of relief that he decided to wear cargo pants. Nonetheless, he hopes that it isn’t obvious. Well, it shouldn’t be, as long as you don’t ask for close up shots.

“San! Could you come closer for my close ups?” You call out, letting the collar of your shirt fall off your shoulder once more, revealing your bare shoulders, and reminding him that you were still braless underneath the loose clothing article.

Fuck.

San forces a smile, unlatching his camera and trying to walk normally without letting his erection steal your attention.

He reaches to where you are, reminding himself to stay professional, but when he meets your playful gaze, all he wants to do is pin you down. Your eyes twinkle with allure as you prepare your next pose. You get it now—the confidence that slowly trickles into you after every photo taken. You’ve never realised that you had this side of yourself, not until now, and you love it.

The close up shots only spell another layer of doom for San—he adores the budding confidence that you exude, but it makes it even harder for him to hold back, watching you make sultry expressions and poses close up. Through the viewfinder, his eyes try to focus on taking the photo but he finds himself being entranced by your stare. He counts down, then taking a few shots, not missing the growing smile you had.

San puts his camera away, reaching forward to your face to remove a stray hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear, and his touch is warm on your face. It’s then you realise how physically close San is to you—you smell his cologne and it leaves your mind blank for a spilt second. He’s absorbed in fixing your hair, combing the strays off your face, the sound of his quiet breathing the only thing you hear. You look away, wondering if your heartbeat is loud enough for him to hear, and you hope it isn’t. San gives you a soft smile when his eyes finally meet yours.

He pulls back, preparing to take his camera for the next shot, but his leg gets tangled in the sheets.

Everything happens in a spilt second—his knee that shifts forward at first, pressing against the sheet that has unknowingly tangled around his other leg, then San trying to get up quickly with the tangled leg, realising a little too late by the time he falls right onto the bed.

Right onto you.

He almost squishes you. Almost. But he lands above you, supported by his elbows just in time before his body is in contact with yours.

Your heart races, way too quick for you to even process what just occurred. All knew you was:

One; San is right above you,

Two; his lips are hovering over yours,

Three; you feel something pressing against your pelvis.

And San stares down at you, his heart beating in his ears. He takes in the sight of you below him—eyes looking up at him through fluttered lashes, your heat radiating against his skin, your lips slightly parted in surprise.

As well as the strain in his pants when his eyes instinctively lower to your bare chest, your nipples peeking through your shirt, and that his little problem is just resting right on you.

“I’m sorry”, San whispers, breaking the silence that had hung between the both of you. “This usually doesn’t happen…”

You crack an amused smile. “Usually?”you reiterate teasingly. A tint of red flushes San’s cheeks and his clothed erection presses harder against your bare skin, and it makes you bite your lip.

“Fuck. I mean, this never happens. It’s just.. I’ve never felt this way about my boudoir models…”, he trails off. “I think you’re fucking stunning since you entered the studio, and I think you’re even more stunning now.”

Your heart flutters at his confession and this time, you feel yourself blush. A soft laugh escapes from the male above you when he sees you avoid eye contact from the shyness. His strings of rationale—yelling at him to stay professional—is snapping. He’s not lying. He’s never felt so attracted to any of his models before, until you, and now that he has you trapped under him, he doesn’t want to lose that chance.

“Should we end the session here?” San asks, with a quick glance at your pretty red lips.

Your fingers are playing with the dangling silver chain that he wears. He lets you, waiting for your response before he catches your gaze dances back to meet his again. Your hands shift to caress San’s jaw, and he takes it as a sign to make his move. You inhale softly as you feel his lips press onto yours, and it makes your head spin with glee. He tastes so heavenly, and your legs clench at the feeling that flutters between your thighs.

San slightly presses his body weight onto you, his erection only growing harder against your thigh. But it looks like he’s taking his time.

His fingertips warm your skin, and he lets them slip up your body, until he’s at your chest, barely covered by the sheer cotton material. His thumbs grazes against your nipples, and you gasp in between open mouthed kisses. You feel him smile, and he applies pressure, and the sensation goes right to your pussy.

He pulls back, watching your lip stick smudged, and your eyes dilate. You can’t help but feel entranced by San, and now you’re wondering how his face would look like when he falls apart.

And it makes you excited.

San lulls you back from your thoughts when you feel his lips suck softly against your neck, and now your fingers are playing with his soft locks of hair.

He’s slightly embarrassed at the way he’s growing even harder when he gingerly peels the white shirt away. His hands cup your bare tits, and he lowers himself to your left tit, giving it a couple of hungry licks and sucks, leaving your back arching and your mouth agape from how ticklish his tongue feels as he flicks your nipple. He doesn’t neglect the other nipple, giving it the same attention as he relishes in the way you fall apart for him. When he has his fun of sucking and making sure your nipples swell while you moan and tug his hair, he pulls away.

He sits up, pulls his shirt over his head and you’re left drooling at how chiseled his body looks. San unbuttons his pants and yanks it off, alongside his boxers, and you watch with awe as his cock springs out—hard and heavy against his abdomen. Your panties are tugged off you in no time, and you don’t miss the way his cock twitches when his eyes land on your slick covered cunt.

“You’re gonna be the death of me”, you hear him mutter before he collides his lips against yours once more. You squeal when you feel his fingers press onto your clit, giving it small rubs, watching and soaking your reactions—your whines and whimpers. There is a dull buzz in your mind every time your bundle of nerves get stimulated, and it builds up in your tummy.

“Oh god, you’re getting even wetter”, he sighs, his fingers completely soaked.

“It feels good. So good. Keep doing that”, you whisper, your fingers pressing against his arm. Your moans only grow louder as San picks up the speed on rubbing your clit, and it’s sending you over the edge way quicker than you wanted to.

San lowers himself to your head, and his husky voice vibrates in your ears.

“That’s it, keep coming undone. Let your mind shut off. You look so fucking beautiful like that.”

“San, San, fuck. I’m gonna cum. Oh fuck-“

Your eyes roll back as your orgasm washes over you, your body tensing as pleasure becomes the only thing you know. You barely catch onto the dirty things San is telling you, but you know he’s encouraging you to cum on his fingers like a good girl.

He makes sure he has your orgasm drawn out as long as possible, your mind completely blown out at that point. San sucks off your arousal on his fingers, before giving his cock a few pumps.

“You taste like heaven, babe. I’ll get a taste of that cunt soon, but right now, I really can’t wait”, San huffs, trying to keep himself composed as he slowly fucks his hand.

“San, hurry up, please. I need you, so fucking bad”, you whine, your fingers pulling your wet folds open for him.

His breathing goes heavy at your words. “Damn, the shoot really got you heated,” San teases.

“I can’t help it if my photographer makes me wet”, you reply with a playful smile.

Something seems to snap in San when he hears that—all he’s thinking about is wanting to drive his cock so deep into you that your mind completely blanks out.

So that’s what he does.

San lines up his cock to your entrance and pushes and inch in. His eyes dart to your face, licking the bottom of his lip when he watches your face contort into pleasure. His hands stroke your thighs as he pushes in a couple more inches, soaking in your broken moans as he stretches you out. He forces himself to stay composed despite the fact that you’re squeezing him with your warm and soft walls.

He manages to bury himself right to the hilt and he gasps at how perfectly fitted his cock is in you, an uncontrollable moan escaping his lips when he feels you convulse around his cock.

“San, you’re so big. I’m so filled”, you whimper through glazed eyes, his cock completely cutting off other senses as your thighs tremble. A smile tugs at his lips.

“I’m gonna fuck you now, pretty”, San tells you. Despite that, he waits for your green signal before he pulls out and drives his cock right into you.

Your mind switches off the moment his cock is fucking your pussy, because that’s all that matters. It’s so good. So fucking good.

His hands slither to your wrists, and has them pinned over your head as his cock pistons into you. You swear he’s driving you to be cock dumb by the end of this, but not like you fucking minded anyway.

“Look at you. Growing stupid over my cock already. So fucking adorable.”

You only nod in reply, biting your lip as his cock continues to render you speechless. Now San has completely flooded into the smallest crooks of your mind. San has his mind blank, his eyes darting from your fucked out expression to your bouncing tits.

Your cunt flutters once again and tears are pooling at the corner of eyes. The sounds of wet skin slapping echo around the studio.

“…wanna touch you”, you mutter. Despite the face that you loved that he was holding you down, you are feeling desperate to feel his skin as you dance on the fence of your orgasm. San releases your wrists, and he props himself better as he continues to pound into you, hitting the soft, spongy spot over and over again when he has your legs folded. When his pulls out, his cock is covered in a creamy mess. His head spins and his ego inflates at the thought him being the one who drove you to this point of mind blanking pleasure.

“No, no, I’m gonna cum again. So good. San!” His name leaving your lips as a whine. Your hands are gripping onto the loose unbuttoned sleeves of your shirt. His hands take yours and places them on his on his sides, and he groans at the way you’re clawing him.

“Shit. Fuck!” San curses when you cream on his cock even more on top of your walls hugging him tightly. You let go on his cock with a pleasured sob, legs twitching.

It’s not long before a long drawn out moan San releases as his warm cum completely floods your tight hole. He swears he wants to keep his cock tucked in your pussy because it feels that fucking good.

His face—oh, his fucking face when he orgasms. You barely recover from your second orgasm to watch San fall apart while he empties in your pussy, and it almost drives you to your third orgasm. Almost.

The both of you remain still for a moment, only breathing filling in the silence. Then, San slowly pulls out, watching the way his cum leaks out of your abused hole.

San pulls back, and he realises that he’s never seen a more beautiful sight—you, splayed out in nude, only covered by a measly white shirt that inevitably drives him crazy, with cum leaking out of your pretty hole while your body twitches against the white sheets.

He thinks that it’s a pity that his camera is out of reach, because it’s such a beautiful shot.

You glance at San with a shy smile as he hands you your panties. He hooks the your legs into the panties and pulls it up to your hips. You feel another load stain your panties while your thighs twitch.

San dresses himself quickly and extends his arm for you to take as he leads you off the bed. He knows he’s got extra work to wash the sheets but that’s the least of his worries.

What throws you off is when he pulls you into his arms and kisses your temple.

“I promise I’ve never done to any of my clients”, he reiterates.

“Unprofessional”, you tease, your hands sneaking up his shirt.

“Can’t fucking help it. I never knew fucking an Angel in my studio would be this exhilarating. It makes the thought of washing the bedsheets bearable”, he teases back, letting his fingers tangle in your hair.

Your mind goes completely blank when he tells you to wash out the loads in you, so he’ll fill you up once more when he brings you home, which earns him a slap on the chest. He gestures you to go change up, watching the way you remove your shirt to reveal your bare back, and he makes a mental note to start fucking you from behind.

And back at his place, he does. His eyes are hyper focused on the way your ass bounces on his cock. A loud slap reverberates in his room followed by a whimper.

He stills in you, spilling his load once more into your abused cunt as you cream all over him once again.

Then he has you wrapped up in his arms, peppering you with kisses as you’re teetering off your high.

“Stay over, won’t you?”, San requests, tucking a lock of hair behind your ears. You’re beginning to feel completely enamoured by the male. You nod as you melt into his arms.

San thinks it’s ridiculous how hard and fast he fell for you, but he’s confident that you’re his favourite model, ever.

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catboyieejeno · 1 year

Text

nct dream reaction ¡! ❞

"i can't focus with your hand down my—oh, fuck."

content: smut, cursing, mature, pet names (baby, babe, doll, etc.)

18+ ! minors do not interact

masterlist

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ mark lee

mark had spent the last few hours hunched over the soundboard, paper and pen clutched in hand as he racked his brain for something, anything that would make the verse he was writing not entirely dull. but it was so hard to think, to conjure a single logical or productive thought, when you were sat right beside him, doing what you were.

your fingertips are scratching at his scalp, right above the nape of his neck. meanwhile, your other hand busies itself on his thigh, nails tracing random shapes over the material his sweats. frustrated, tired, and in a haze of unorganized thoughts and ideas, mark rolls his head back into the palm of your hand with a low hiss.

“something about this verse doesn't sound right,"

"i think you've just been looking at it too long," you press your lips softly into his cheek and he sighs at the feeling.

"maybe," hums mark, "i just want to finish already,"

"what if,” you whisper, “you take a break for a few minutes, that way you can look at it with new eyes, find out what’s wrong with it.”

the feeling of your breath on the shell of his ear makes his hair stand on end. the bare minimum— that’s all you have to do and you have mark’s head spinning, analyzing whether or not your alleged ‘break’ really implied something else. immediately, he feels the blood rush to his-

what is he doing? he needs to keep working on the song.

he shakes his head. mark readjusts his pants, but the gesture doesn't go unnoticed by you. you're quick to catch the way he fixes himself and wipes the sweat off his palms. “babe,” he tries.

“yes?” your voice is sweet and airy, resembling a pant, with fingers lightly trailing his waistline.

“baby.” there’s an underlying warning to his tone this time; nevertheless, you can sense the bit of desperation he fails to hide.

with your thumb, you lift the waistband and slip your hand inside in one smooth motion. at the same time, your lips attach to his neck.

"i need to finish the song," his head tilts to make space for you, contradicting his words, and you smirk against his skin as you feel him gulp.

"you need a break, baby,"

"mmph," why did you have him so hooked, "no, i need to work-"

"then work," you place your hand on him over his underwear, "no one's stopping you,"

you're giving his bulge a squeeze, teeth grazing his neck, when mark mentally thanks the heavens that he's sitting. otherwise, he's sure his knees would've given out.

"yeah, but," he gasps, "i can't focus with your hand down my—oh, fuck."

ੈ♡˳

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ huang renjun

"jun,"

renjun hums in response, not looking up from the book on his chest. he's lying down, eyes scanning the text on the pages while his other hand rests on his stomach, fingers bouncing mindlessly.

with a pout settled on your bottom lip, you sit beside him on your knees, practically begging for any bit of his attention.

all of your attempts to divert his focus away from that damned book have been overlooked. you tried changing your shirt, toying with your bra, and nothing. he didn't even bother to try and sneak a glance when you pulled up your skirt, flashing your pink panties at him.

it was all getting rather annoying.

daringly, your place your hand over his, maneuvering it slowly down until you stop right over his crotch.

"tsk tsk," he moves his hand back up, "what are you doing?"

"junnie," you mewl, fingers tracing the outline of him.

he remains unmoving until you decide you've had enough. when your hand goes into his pants, his lips part slightly, sharply drawing in a breath, and his eyes finally break away from the page to look at you. they're wide open in shock.

"i've been trying to get your attention for the last 20 minutes,"

"well, you should've just asked." he laughs, sounding a little cocky. your eyes narrow at him when he speaks again, "i'll make it up to you, baby," when he goes to close the book, you stop the motion of your wrist, a devilish idea coming to mind.

"no,"

"what?"

"i want you to keep reading," you say matter-of-factly. he's taken aback when your strokes get bolder and you feel him getting harder in your hand, "since you didn't want to pay any attention to me, you can keep reading."

"but i wanna make you feel good-"

"keep reading or i'll stop."

renjun picks up his book hurriedly and flips it open to where he left off. this time, when you pull your shirt off, his eyes are roaming your skin rather than the words of his novel, shallow breaths leaving his parted lips.

he's fully hard now, a flustered mess, uttering whispered pleas of your name.

"baby, that feels so-" he whines quietly.

"focus on your book."

"i can't focus with your hand down my—oh, fuck." his hips buck up into your hand, book falling to the side as he comes into your fist.

ੈ♡˳

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ lee jeno

about five minutes ago, you were cursing the day you ever let your boyfriend talk you into working out with him.

jeno is normally sweet, shy, affectionate, considerate, but for some reason, when he steps through the doors of the gym, he discovers each and every new way to push all of your buttons.

he’d try to… encourage you throughout your routine, which resulted in you guys bickering the whole way home because he “just couldn’t let you do it at your own pace.” that, or he’d all-together forget about you until he was done with his own work out, headphones plugged in and blasting for 2, sometimes even 3 hours.

tonight, he had dragged you to a small gym that he claimed had less people, for your comfort and his privacy as an idol, and while that was true, you couldn’t help but think to yourself, of course there’s going to be less people— no one is at the gym at two in the fucking morning.

now, however, you’re leaning against the wall, fully over even attempting to finish your work out, watching as jeno does his usual bicep curls in nothing but his tiny black shorts and a matching tank that is skin-tight.

his jaw is locked and tense, face twisting as he strains while pulling up the weights during the rep. sweat makes the ends of his hair stick to his forehead, and when he’s done, he huffs, chest heaving. even the way he grabs his water to gulp it down is messing with your head.

yeah… maybe you didn’t hate the gym that much.

you don’t know what’s different about today, but you’ve been rubbing your thighs together for the last 30 minutes, hoping he’d announce soon that he’s close to done. when that moment never comes, you take matters into your own hands.

“hi, jen,” you stride over to him, a sly smile playing at your lips.

“hey, pretty baby. i’m almost finished, i just have to do-“

blatantly disregarding what he was talking about, you lean in until your lips are kissing the corner of his, “i can’t watch you work out anymore,” you whine, “it’s driving me crazy,”

confused and oblivious as ever, jeno pulls his eyebrows together, “well, i’m sorry, i thought you liked coming here with me-“

“not that kind of crazy, love,” your hand grabs his, guiding it between your legs, “the kind where i want you to bend me over any piece of equipment in here.”

“w-wha-well, i uhm-“

he swallows thickly when you bring your other hand into his shorts, grabbing his dick and pumping it a few times. his hand stays between your legs, though he doesn’t move.

“baby, i promise,” he pants, “this is my last set and then i’m taking you home and we can-“

“why can’t we do it here?”

“are you insane? what if somebody comes in? i have-shit- i have one more set and- ohh, aah-“

“jeno?”

"i can't focus with your hand down my—oh, fuck."

jeno’s arm flies back to lean his weight against whatever machine is behind him, trying to stay upright. his fingers finally start moving, rubbing some much needed friction to the spot between your legs. his brain has become mush in less than 2 minutes, lost in the pleasure that you’re giving him. his work out is long forgotten as he groans out your name.

ੈ♡˳

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ lee donghyuck

"you can't sleep with your makeup on, doll," hyuck grumbles, "stop fighting me on this,"

he straddles your lap to keep you from wiggling around, hovering over you with a make-up removing wipe wrapped between his long fingers.

his cheeks are a delicious shade of red, shiny from the sheer layer of sweat that covers his pretty features. he looks boyish and unruly, hair falling messily over his glossed-over eyes as they stare into your own.

your face is surely mirroring his, flushed from all of the drinks in your system. what started as a date night with your boyfriend ended with you having close to a bottle and half of wine each, not that you’re complaining. his body is warm above yours, clouding your judgement more than the alcohol ever could. greedily, your hands wander up his thighs.

hyuck is rambling and slurring distractedly, using the scented wipe to gently swipe away the remnants of product from under your eyes, "it's not good for your skin if you leave your makeup on, you know that-" you can't even focus on what he's lecturing you on because his lips are stained red from the wine, and he seems to have been licking them, given how wet they are.

"hyuck, baby."

"-yes?"

you pucker up your lips, "give me a kiss."

he complies with a cheeky smile, mouth molding obediently against yours. he lets out a throaty moan at your affection.

your fingers fly to the button on his jeans, undoing them. hyuck quickly pulls back, “baby, let me take off your makeup first,”

“but i wanna feel you,” you mumble innocently, hands reaching for the hem of his underwear.

“oh, believe me,” as maliciously as ever, he tongues his cheek, eyebrows wiggling, “you will.”

working as fast and gently as possible, he continues to wipe your face, jaw tightening as you grope him, “hmm, y/n.”

“what’s wrong, baby?”

"i can't focus with your hand down my—oh, fuck." his head falls into the crook of your shoulder and he shudders at the feeling of your cool hands wrapping around his base. under your palm, you feel him twitch, but hyuck is determined to remain unfazed and not engage in your little game until he’s done.

he composes himself and sighs. another wipe is taken from the pack, softly cleaning your forehead and cheeks.

“shit–alright,” he seethes as you squeeze his tip. hyuck tosses the wipe aside, grunting. your boyfriend roughly grabs your face with one hand, making you stop your teasing, “all done.”

instantly, he leans in, letting his lips meet yours again. this kiss is more lustful than the last; it’s sloppy and needy, and when he pulls away for air, he stays so close that he practically breathes his next words into your mouth, “i should’ve left your makeup on so you could watch me ruin it.”

ੈ♡˳

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ na jaemin

it's unfortunate that you're a light sleeper, seeing as it makes it quite difficult for your boyfriend to do something nice for you.

this morning, jaemin had woken up an hour before you usually do with the intention to surprise you by making breakfast and delivering it to you in bed.

he had everything worked out: he set his alarm on his phone and kept it tucked under his pillow so he could rush to silence it once he woke up, hoping that you'd continue to sleep undisturbed. from there, he rolled out of bed as quietly as possible, tip-toeing out of your bedroom and into the kitchen to make you the best breakfast-in-bed ever.

everything was going according to plan, until now. he had just scooped the first bit of pancake batter into the pan when the padding of your feet alerts him of your presence. your arms wrap around his waist, nose nuzzling into his back.

like a child who didn’t get his way, jaemin whines out and stomps his feet a bit, "babe, you weren't supposed to be up yet.”

"i felt you get up, jaem," you laugh, "let me help you-"

"nope! you're not allowed to do anything. this was supposed to be a surprise,"

"alright, fine."

when you try to pull away to get ahead on the dishes, jaemin's hand drags you back in, right to where you were on his waist.

well, if he won't let you let you help in the kitchen, maybe you can help a different way.

mischievously, your teeth graze his back and shoulders, hands sliding under his shirt to feel the muscles on his stomach, which immediately tense at the contact of your cold fingers. when your actions elicit a reaction from him, a small knowing scoff that told you that he knew exactly what you were up to, you continue your efforts, trailing down to loosen the drawstrings of his joggers.

"oh, yeah," he hums when you touch him. no more than a second later, the free hand that isn’t busy flipping pancakes comes down to wrap over yours, guiding it up and down on his length, “you’re so naughty.”

"i just wanna repay you for getting up early to make me breakfast,"

"if you keep going," he whimpers, "i might end up wanting something else for breakfast," jaemin's chest is heaving at this point.

"the food's gonna burn," you half-heartedly warn, mercilessly continuing your pace.

"well, it just might 'cause i can't focus with your hand down my—oh, fuck."

there's a clattering noise when the pan is pushed back and off the heat, the spatula dropping onto the counter as jaemin pulls your hand and his from his pants.

he quickly flips off the stove and turns to you, hands wrapping around your thighs to pick you up, situating you on the empty kitchen island.

“breakfast can wait.” he mumbles, then captures your mouth in a kiss.

ੈ♡˳

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ zhong chenle

“chenle.”

“the game’s almost over,”

“chenle!”

“there’s 10 minutes left!”

“you’re watching highlights! you can literally watch those whenever!”

“now is also whenever!” he cleverly retorts.

okay, think. that’s the third video he’s watched in a row, the third time he’s fed you the same explanation and promised that this highlight video would be the last.

so, think: how can you get him off his stupid phone?

“you wanna watch your highlights? okay,” you shrug, sitting beside him on the couch.

“okay?” he asks, as if your previous statement is entirely foreign to him, and truthfully, it is. you had never given up so easily before. in fact, chenle had grown to love the banter. half of the time, the only reason he really insists on watching his highlight clips for so long is because he loves to watch you yearn for his attention.

“yep.”

“i’ll be done after this one,” he reminds you, watching closely for your reaction.

you nod nonchalantly, “right.” and give him a forced smile.

you give him a few seconds to get back into the video before you bring your hand over to his thigh. as expected, he doesn’t say anything, continuing his act in hopes that you’ll go back to urging him to shut the video off.

but this time, unlike the others, you remain just as stoic, sneakily inching closer and closer. it’s only a matter of time before he catches on, so you reach over in one motion and undo the button of his pants, putting your hand inside.

oh. so that’s your play?

you catch onto the way his eyes widen for a fleeting moment, but he’s quick to cover it up.

gently, you rub him, leaning in to leave kisses on his cheek, the kind that are so light and soft that they invite goosebumps to spread through his neck and arms.

he resists all urges to shudder or succumb to your touch; instead, he opts for taking his bottom lip between his teeth, a last measure to remain sane as you pleasure him. he can’t care less about the highlights anymore, but he’s stubborn and refuses to lose, so his eyes stay locked on the screen although his thoughts are entirely elsewhere.

you’re supposed to beg for him, not the other way around.

but that’s easier said than done, especially when you’re palming him, pre-cum leaking from his tip as his mind wanders off the game, clinging to everything that is you.

chenle squeezes his eyes shut for a second.

“what’s the matter?”

“nothing.” he says through gritted teeth.

you keep toying with him, bringing your other hand to the button of your own shorts. at this, chenle’s eyes snap over and he mentally curses, blowing air through his nostrils harshly.

his fingers are turning white from the way he’s gripping his phone with so much force. every stroke of your hand is wearing him down, bringing him closer to his climax, but he doesn’t want to finish yet, not before he’s been inside of you.

“chenle, baby, you’re not even watching-“

“yeah, i know, that’s because i can't focus with your hand down my—oh, fuck."

ੈ♡˳

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ park jisung

“and then, if you press these buttons, your attack upgrades and deals more damage…”

if you’re being honest, everything jisung has said about his new switch game, which he’s explaining to you with so much interest and passion, is going in one ear and out the other.

it’s not that you don’t care, you do! you’re more than happy to sit and listen to him go on about something he’s excited about, but you simply don’t know what’s gotten into you today.

all you can seem to focus on is him.

his lips are plump, looking softer and more kissable than ever, and you think you may pass out when his tongue darts out to wet them. now, they’re glossed over, just like his pretty brown eyes that reflect the video game screen from the console resting on his chest.

your leg lies across his body, unable to keep still with the ache starting to flourish at your core. you’re practically grinding on his thigh and he’s oblivious as ever.

the fingers that hug his waist have now developed a mind of their own: they dance over his stomach and travel south until they make their way under jisung’s waistband.

“what-“ he clears his throat to cover the way his voice cracks, “what are you doing?”

“what are you talking about?”

all of his muscles tense up, “with your, uhm, hand?”

“oh,” you feign surprise, batting your eyes with innocence as if there could be no another reason your hand was holding his crotch, “it’s warm, my fingers were getting cold,”

he nods rather awkwardly, mumbling something that implies he understands and tries to continue with his explanation.

key word: tries.

his speech is a mess and a nervous sweat has broken out on his forehead. he’s even begun to explain things about the game wrong, spewing out nervous laughs in between weak apologies.

as hard as he’s trying to keep his act together, there’s one thing that blatantly gives him away. under your hand, you can feel him getting hard, and he knew it, too.

the entire time he’s talking, he’s growing harder and harder in your palm and you just cant resist moving a bit.

“aah, that feels-“

“so, what does that character do, again?”

jisung blinks at you with wide eyes, an look of disbelief on his face. after a pause, he answers you quietly.

“they—mmh, they shoot these uhm-“

you nod teasingly, “uh-huh?”

“these fireballs that-“ defeated, he groans out, “baby…”

“woah, fireballs?!”

“baby, i’ll tell you about the game later. right now, i-“ he sets the switch aside and you pout in false disappointment.

“what? why?”

"because—i can't focus with your hand down my—oh, fuck."

ੈ♡˳

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authorhjk1 · 3 months

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The Roman Goddess (part II)

Sana X Male Reader

The taxi ride to her hotel feels like it's taking hours. Her white top still shows hints of your last moment alone. Since then, the two of you met not a lot of people. Only a couple of oblivious visitors and the taxi driver.

The later was staring at her for a couple of moments as the two of you got in. It wasn't your place to say something, she is married after all. But you can't really blame him.

Even after you just had her kneeling half naked in front of you, you still glance at her every two seconds.

You still feel like you are dreaming. How you managed to pull it off still remains a mystery to you. Or maybe she was looking for someone anyway? And you were just the first guy to hit on her?

Maybe. And even if that's the case, you don't really care. As long as she is taking you to her hotel room, you don't care why she is doing this.

"What's your name by the way?"

The taxi driver's radio is too loud for him to understand what the two of you are saying. Italian words echo through the car.

The young woman raises an eyebrow.

"Now you are curious? After you came on me?"

You feel your cheeks heating up, but you see how the left corner of her mouth moves upwards a little.

"Y-You asked me to."

She tilts her head as if she is trying to recall the scene in the museum.

"You sound like I forced you to do that."

Somehow she did. Or at least her body. Who wouldn't want to cum on her chest? Especially if she says she wants it?

"So?"

You brake the silence after a couple of moments. Although it's anything but quiet in the car. As far as you can tell, the driver is listening to a soccer game.

"I'm not sure if I should tell you."

"I just came on your chest. Shouldn't you trust me by now?"

You see her smirking, intrigued by the way you used her words against her.

"I won't tell you my name. Just in case."

She finally turns her head towards you, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.

"Just call me Venus."

"Venus?"

You can't help but chuckle.

"Didn't we already establish that you are like Aphrodite?"

'Venus' shrugs her shoulders. An elegant gesture coming from her.

"You said that Venus was more important."

You nod quietly.

You feel out of place. You've never been to such a hotel before. Everything looks expensive. The white marble floor, the cedar wooden reception desk, the golden elevator doors with pretty engravings.

The lobby just looks insane to you. But Venus just walks through the big hall, her head raised high, her confident stride makes her heels klick on the floor.

Trailing behind her, you see how well dressed everyone is. It's not like your outfit sucks, a simple white shirt and jeans, but the other guests are wearing suits and dresses.

"Mrs. Minatozaki."

The receptionist greets her, handing her the key for her room. Her name sounds Japanese.

"And this is a package that just arrived. It's for you."

"Thank you."

Venus, or Mrs. Minatozaki, takes the small box and walks towards the elevator. You follow her, trying not to draw too much attention to yourself.

As soon as she throws the package on the bed, she turns around. You tried to see what her room looked like, or rather suite, but her intense gaze makes you focus on her.

"Come here."

She whispers, slinging her arms around your neck. You lean down, meeting her halfway as the two of you start to indulge into each other's lips.

You realize that your hands once again are exploring her body. As if you can't get enough. Her curves feel so good underneath the fabric.

"Fuck, your lips taste so good,-"

You catch her pause.

"I need a name for you too."

Her lips leave yours, before they kiss your cheek, moving towards your neck.

"Any suggestions? It should fit mine."

It's hard to concentrate, when you have a woman like Venus kissing your neck. Impossible even. But you luckily know your way around Roman mythology.

"Mars."

You feel one of her hands slide down your back.

"Mars fits the theme."

"And who is that?"

You don't know if she is pretending or not, but you feel her hand reaching your crotch. Yours are on her waist. Still amazed by how small it is, you try your best to explain.

"The Roman god of war. And agriculture."

You feel her chuckle into your neck.

"That's an interesting combination."

"Well,.. "

You can't stop it. Your history nerd side comes back to life. Despite the fact that Venus is slowly letting her fingers glide over your jeans.

"That combination is a characteristic of early Rome. Military and farming both have their peak during the summer. It makes sense to me."

You feel her bite you skin slightly.

"Are you gonna keep talking? Or do you want to fuck?"

"T-The second one."

"Me too. Mars."

She whispers, before backing away.

It feels weird to be called by a name of a god.

"Give me just a minute."

Venus takes the package and disappears into the bathroom.

Standing alone, you are not quite sure what to do. Take your clothes off? Stand in place? Get on the bed?

Your eyes roam the big room as you realize how much this must cost. Hundreds. Maybe even a thousand a night or something.

Even the bed looks like the best you've ever seen. It's almost three times as big as yours. Golden ornaments are decorating its wooden bed frame.

You decide to get rid off your clothes. A moment later you are lying on the soft mattress, only in your underwear. Then, the door opens. You feel your jaw dropping in amazement.

Venus leans against the white doorframe.

Her black lace bra shows her porcelain like skin underneath. Her tits look a little bigger than before. Her panties match her bra. Black lace. It shows of how small her waist is. Her toned stomach really makes her look like a goddess. The black straps that connect her stockings with her panties each have a golden ring in the middle. The heels she is wearing complete her all black outfit

"I see you like it?"

You look down at your crotch. That's a very clear yes.

Watching her walk over to you almost makes you drool. Her hips sway from left to right, her hair, now lose, follows the same rhythm.

"I don't even remember the last time my pussy was filled."

She crashes down on you, not giving you time to react, when she reaches the bed. Landing on top of you, you feel her center rub against yours. Her hands in your hair. Her lips on yours once again.

The two of you exchange a passionate kiss, her hands slowly going through your hair. Yours are traveling down her back, until they reach their destination. You squeeze her cheeks, making Venus moan into your mouth.

"Naughty boy."

She coos, before she slides down your body. Her tits graze your covered crotch in the process. Once her face is on the right hight, she pulls your boxers off.

"I've already missed this so much."

She sighs, before diving in. Without a word of warning, you feel how Venus swallows your cock. Her warm mouth makes you groan as you sink into the cushions.

Reaching down, you hold her hair back as her head bobs up and down. Her blowjob is messy. Her saliva is starting to get everywhere. Your cock, your balls, your thighs, the mattress.

The only thing you can do is watch. Her eyes lock onto yours, trying to stare into your soul.

"Fuck."

You groan, unable to withstand her attack.

"So delicious."

She murmurs as she let's her tongue dance along your shaft, before taking you back into her mouth.

You can feel how impatient she is. Her blowjob is gaining in pace, her hands moving along your thighs. She starts to fuck her face onto your cock.

With a load groan, you almost cum right there. She pulls away early enough. Your disappointment is quickly replaced by heart pounding excitement.

"Eat me, please."

She gets on her knees, pulling her panties to the side. The mouth watering view almost gives you goosebumps. Her folds are wet, her pussy cleanly shaven.

You pull her hips towards you, making Venus sit on your face. Her pussy tastes even better than it looks. You can't get enough after only one lick. Her hands are in your hair again, forcing you to bury yourself even deeper into her core.

"Yes, baby."

She sighs, her head rolling back. Your pace quickens as you insert a finger into her wet core, while you lick her clit. Her velvet walls clench around you, dying for any friction at all.

"More. More!"

Her moans become louder, her whines needier.

At one point, she starts to ride your face. Your finger is still inside of her, egging her on.

"So close. The museum made me so wet."

You can feel her orgasm slowly approaching. Her pussy clenches around your finger even harder.

"Fuck!"

She almost shouts as she cums on your face.

Her sweet nectar tastes like peaches as you are forced to drink it, her hands keeping you in place.

"That was so good."

She sighs, her body visibly relaxing on top of you.

"I don't even remember the last time..."

She trails off, glancing down at you.

"I need you inside of me, Mars. Fuck me hard."

You tighten the grip on her waist, suddenly sitting up. It makes her fall off you and she lands on her back. You are now kneeling in front of her wet core, your cock grazing her folds.

"Give it to me."

She watches with a satisfied look on her face as you start to penetrate her pussy. Her tightness makes it hard to fit all of your cock inside of her in one go. You have to slowly ease in and out a couple of times, until you finally bottom out.

"Fuck, you are big."

She sighs as she feels how you fill her. Her pussy hugs your cock as tight as it can.

Her hands grab the sheets as you start to fuck Venus. Her body rocks back and forth on the mattress. Your hands are placed on her hips as you enjoy her pussy. It almost feels like she is made for you.

"More!"

Her head sinks into the sheets as you start to fuck her harder. Her legs wrap around you, trapping you, not allowing you to go anywhere but deeper. Not that you mind. If you could only stay inside of her forever...

Your body moves on its own, driven by your carnal desires. Every thrust makes her breasts jiggle slightly, despite the fact that they are still secure inside her bra. Her eyes are staring up at you, tracing the drops of sweat that form on your forehead, before they fall onto your chest or her tummy.

"Gosh, your cock..."

You see how her eyes become smaller, until they finally close. Her mouth is slightly open, moan after moan escaping her pretty lips.

"How are you so tight?"

You can't help but wonder. How is she this perfect? That face of hers would already be enough for every man to fall for her. But her body turns you into a slave to your animalistic instincts. And her pussy.. You can't describe it with words.

It feels like you are in paradise. And at the same time, you feel something like guilt. You shouldn't be doing this. You shouldn't be fucking her. She is a married woman. And yet, that fact somehow turns you on even more.

Venus should be off limits to you. Because she is way out of your league. And because she is married. But here you are. Fucking her, while she whines and mewls, asking you to go faster.

For a moment, you wonder if she is alone in Rome. Or is her husband with her? You haven't thought about this possibility yet. That he and her might have spent the night right here. In this bed. In the bed you are fucking his wife on.

"Fuck!"

Her loud moan brings you back to reality.

"I need it rougher! More!"

It's starting to feel like she just can't get enough.

You start to slow down, wanting to try another position. Maybe you can fuck her even deeper that way.

"Get up and turn around."

Venus seems to like the idea. She gets on all fours her ass facing you.

"Put it back in."

She smiles as she looks over her shoulder.

You let your hands run along her beautifully shaped cheeks. You knead them a couple of times, before you aling yourself with her wet cavern once again.

"Fuck me hard."

It's a mixture of plea and command.

Venus moans when you thrust forward, impaling her with your cock.

"Oh god!"

You lean over her, grabbing both of her arms. Pulling them back, you make her kneel. Only your hands on her arms keep her upright.

Fucking her from behind feels better than missionary. You are able to penetrate her deeper. You are able to rock her body back and forth properly. And you can really pull her onto your cock.

But as you keep pounding into her, her hair starts to fall, swinging from left to right. It hits her face, whenever you pull at her arms and thrust into her. She has to close her mouth, letting out needy whimpers. But she can't hold it in for very long. And soon, she has some of her own hair in her mouth as she moans for more.

The only downside is, you can't see her face. Her gorgeous features must be twisted in pleasure, but you are missing out on seeing them. Her hair starts to have a life on its own as the pace and force of your thursts increase. It starts to cover parts of her face, while most of it is still resting against her back.

You focus on the rhythm of your thrusts as you feel how deep you are inside of her. It feels like her pussy is getting better and better by the second. Your own pleasure increases, the harder you fuck her.

"Fuck!"

Venus suddenly cums around your cock. You missed the fact that she has been dead silent for the last couple of moments. Now, she is letting it all out again. Lewd words spill from her lips, just like her juices spill out of her pussy. She starts to stain the sheets underneath, almost slipping because of her own liquids.

Her orgasm overwhelms you, bringing you closer towards your own edge. You have been holding on for now, but the sight of Venus cuming right in front of you eventually proves too much.

You feel how you are growing tired, her pussy contracting around you with every thrust into it.

"I think I'm gonna cum!"

You groan, trying to warn Venus.

"Paint me! Stain me with your cum!"

She mewls as she feels you picking up the pace one last time. Her hair is still in her face, but she is unable to put it back. Her arms still behind her.

"Fuck."

You sigh as you finally pull out. You let go of her arms, letting Venus fall face first into the mattress. You hold your cock in your hand as you start to climax. Your cum hits her back. Rope after rope starts to stain her skin. Just like she wanted. Some of it gets onto the bra wire, the white globes visible on the black fabric.

"Fuck, I needed that."

You hear her mumble into the sheets, her voice muffled by the white cotton.

You still can't fully grasp what you just did. As soon as she came out of the bathroom it felt like someone else was controlling your body. It felt incredible nonetheless.

As you see Venus lying on her stomach in front of you, your cum on her back, you wonder what else there is to do. There is so much. There is so much the two of you could do. You whish you could explore even more of her body. To feel every inch of her skin.

When Venus finally turns her head to look up at you, you see her smile. Her eyes tell you that she is thinking the same thing.

"How do you want to fuck me next?"

#kpop #kpop smut #kpop girls #kpop gg #male reader #twice smut #twice #sana twice #sana minatozaki #sana smut #sana

939 notes · View notes

loganlermanstanaccount · 9 months

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Rigor Mortis (part 6)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 5, Part 7

summary: Everything unravels. You teach Miguel a lesson.

warnings: soooo much smut. mutual masturbation, grinding, slight femdom, Miguel is a submissive switch cuz I said so, m! masturbation. very very 18+ Minors DNI (ageless blogs will be blocked, thanks!)

a/n: yeah...so. ya.

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here

wc: 8k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

in your half-hearted hubris,

Miguel is not a jealous man. Jealousy implies something he thought was shed long ago: a second skin of something green-eyed and crooked.

One minute, he's watching you kiss someone else. And when you sigh into it; imperceptibly, but he notices because he always sees these things about you; he's biting the inside of his cheek and drawing blood. The guy you danced with, and now your lips are on his. Is… Is that your type? Jun is slender and charming; a pretty boy, through and through . There's a hand on your thigh, he notices, milky white and willowy. It has Miguel looking at his own, rough and tan, the ghost of soft skin and pillowy thighs on his fingertips. The illicit foray of one night, one night with you , and he's second guessing himself.

Insecure.

His hands are rough and calloused. He picks at hangnails, the skin is raw from rubber gloves and mystery chemicals, and knuckles creaky because he cracks them too often. Is that what you like? The kind of thing you touch yourself to; his hands, pawing at flesh. Jun cups your chin, slender fingers pulling you closer, and your own come up to wrap around them. You seem desperate for it, panting and pretty lashes fluttering when you separate.

And you look at Jun like… like he wants you to look at him.

There's blood in his mouth when you finally do. He looks away, quick and furtive, like you've caught him doing something wrong. It's not right or wrong, he supposes, just tripping over a muddle of thoughts – still stuck on the image of your hand on Jun's.

He was a late bloomer, awkwardly proportioned and too tall for his limbs. Clumsy, if you can believe it. He's always been a bit of a bull in a China shop; bulldozing and brutish and still growing into a body that pools at his ankles and is tight around his wrists. Like an ill-fitting suit; the kind he wore to Fernanda's quince, skirting the rental hall with a bottle of j2o. In and out of conversations, tripping and stuttering over words in stiff dress shoes and a waistcoat . Gabi took a lot of photos: peace signs and pointer finger looped into coat pockets.

Point is; he's not felt this way in years . Tongue-tied, hot and cold, heart-pounding. Jun decidedly isn't; able to talk to you like a normal person, making you smile and laugh. Curling fingers into the crest of a wide palm, he digs his nails into the flesh: producing a sting that makes it crystal clear. Oh. Oh.

Fuck.

One minute, he's nursing a warm beer and trying not to take a chunk out the inside of his mouth. The next, he's on the floor of Lyla's living room, blinking up at bright lights.

There's soft hands all over him. Holding his own, cupping his cheek, moving his head this way and that as he tries to focus. He's looking at your pretty lips, pert and pressed into the lean line of a frown. There are… people talking over the other; strained and hushed in a quiet corner.

He recognises Lyla's voice, distinctive despite the ringing in his ears.

"A-All over a drink…. pushing past 'em, Jess…. he threw the first punch…"

~~~

The drive home is terse, air thick with something. Stewing, you've got your arms crossed and head turned to the windows. You're watching the streaky lights of the city zip past, lips pursed. Head on the glass, you're making a point not to turn back or utter a word to Miguel.

"You picked a fight." You swipe a finger on the condensation, finally ready to talk.

He shrugs limply. A beat passes.

"....this is the part where you explain what happened, Miguel."

"I picked a fight."

"...that's it?" Your brows shoot up. "You just… there was no build up? Why? "

"Wanted to give 'em something to bond over in the morning." He deadpans, glancing over to the passenger seat. "Matching black eyes."

You shake your head slightly. "Don't believe you."

You see something flash in his gaze, and then it's gone. He smooths over features, and that Miguel is back: lifeless and blank. Steadfast, he doesn't turn to look at you.

"Okay." He says simply.

"All that Ophelia shit from a couple of weeks ago, and you still won't –" It's under your breath as you clamp down anger. If Miguel hears, he doesn't indicate. "I just want to understand."

He purses his lips. "Nothing to understand. I'm an insecure piece of shit, and I picked a fight. I ruined Jess' birthday, and fucked it up for everyone else. I know. Can we… Can we speed this bit up? I'm exhausted. "

"No-one… I didn't say that." Your voice is hoarse. He's being mean. He's never been all that nice; sarcastic and smug, for sure, but never cruel. It feels spiteful. You're blinking away a hot tear before you can stop it. And then they become angry tears, ones that sting your cheeks on the way down.

You're not good with fights. Never have been. And it's not even the confrontation that scares you, it's the apathy. Sifting through your guts and begging someone to care, when they don't. It's like screaming at a brick wall and expecting the mortar to shift; a pointless exercise in delusion. You'd grown sick of it with Jamie; the hand-waving and the what do you want me to do about it of it all. It's the one thing you've grown to like about Miguel, about all your little fights. He's rarely the bigger person, petty, and able to get down in the shit and stink with you; because, on some small level at least, he gives a fuck. He cares .

You're embarrassed that you even thought he would be any different. Disappointed, but not with him: with yourself for getting caught up in all of this.

You're sniffling, wiping up and flattening out of sheer spite; refusing to let him see how a stupid thing like this affects you. The tears well up in your eyes, hot and blurry and you're focusing on holding yourself together by the seams before you get home.

You don't notice him pull into a side road and park the car. It rolls to a stop, and he's reaching over to the backseat; and pulling out a box of tissues. The box is floral and tissues scented; rosy and sweet in a way you wouldn't expect from him.

When he nudges you with the box, apologetic, you're still not looking at him; not even flicking over to give him a dirty look.

"Chula. " It rolls off his tongue so softly, but you jut your chin in the air. "Please. I'm sorry."

You purse your lips.

"I'm a dick."

"Yep." You manage.

"I picked a fight. I'm an insecure piece of shit–"

"No, no." You're turning back, quickly. "Stop saying that. Why are you saying that?"

He shrugs again, and you flop into your seat. You notice, he's gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles are white.

"Relax , Miguel." You wrap a hand around his, and watch him visibly melt. His gaze softens. "M'not trying to push, I'm sorry."

You take his hand off the wheel, inspecting the purple and blue that spreads across taught skin. His palm is rough, knuckles bony and bruised.

"When we get home–" Home. You sigh, bringing it up to the little car lights. "I've got a first aid kit, somewhere. We need to clean this up, or it might get infec–"

Looking up, you catch Miguel staring , stars in his eyes, and it… it knocks the breath out of your lungs. All of a sudden, you're flustered and letting go of his hand in a hurry.

All he does is nod, starting the car. He runs a hand through his hair, pulling away with a palm on the flat of the wheel. In the light of street lamps, shadow cutting his cheekbones just so. He's beat up, he's tired, but even then; Miguel is so, so pretty.

~~~

You end up in the bathroom, first aid kit splayed on the countertop. He insists on standing, despite a slight limp he tries to downplay, and so you're sitting on the faux marble with Miguel between your legs. Your dress rides up but you're too tired to care, ripping open gauze and tapping disinfectant on a little pad. At least he has the decency to be still and quiet, with his palms on the counter top and kissing bare thigh.

Miguel is tall, still having to bend over when you pat the peak of a split lip; hand on his chin ever so gently.

"Where'd you get all of this from?" He asks because your first aid kit is comprehensive : micropore, gauze and antiseptic with a name that sounds like sleeping pills.

You're swatting him gently, trying to keep his jaw still. "My ex was a med student."

He smothers a smile, like he's trying not to laugh.

"...what?"

"...is he the one that couldn't make you cum?"

You stop tending to his wounds, hand on his shoulder to steady yourself. Never have I ever faked an orgasm – the words start ringing in your head. You're not a blushing virgin, but his crass word choice makes you flush.

"None of your business."

He smirks. "So that's a yes. "

"I faked it once or twice , sue me. But… I mean, the sex wasn't bad. It was even good, sometimes."

"Sure." He cringes, and you bat his shoulder.

"Don't want to hear it."

He hums, pressing a little closer to your front.

"What was he like, then?" He seems nonchalant; but his tone is unusual, sending shivers down your spine.

"He was… nice."

"Nice?"

"Yep." Four years, and that's the best you can come up with. It's all you can verbalise, at least. How does one describe the feeling of getting hit by a metaphorical train? One that leaves you on the tracks, thinking of picnic dates and IOUs and diner coffee? They'd describe it as poorly as you do, most likely. A moment passes. "I loved him, I think."

You don't know why you said that, but the melancholy of the night starts to sink in.

"Then why'd you break up?"

You shrug. "Wasn't enough."

He looks surprised, eyebrows drawn up momentarily, as if that's the last thing he thought you'd say. You strike him as a romantic; ditzy and dopey when you have feelings for someone, a love conquers all type of person.

The mood sours, air heaving in that little bathroom. You finish up in silence, applying strips to a gash above his brow. It takes some time for him to speak, as if he's been building up the confidence.

"Is that your type?" He asks, finally puncturing that pressure.

You shake your head, a little confused.

"Nice? Like that guy you were talking to."

"...Jun?" You hesitate, sensing something else behind his words. "I mean… I just wanted to get laid."

He doesn't really react, thumb grazing the silk of your slip dress. The skin his hand brushes past feels a little hotter.

"He's pretty, though." You're careful not to make eye contact, getting to work cleaning the cuts on his knuckles. You smile to yourself. "And yeah, he's nice. More than nice, actually. "

Jun works with computers. Jun is good with his hands. And you really were going to fuck him. Until… until…

…until Miguel got into a fight. After watching you kiss someone else. The gears turn in your head, creaky and lumbering because you haven't had to navigate a shitty pseudo-situationship in forever. You're wrapping up his hand with gauze, mouth moving quicker than you can think.

"Are you jealous?"

He splutters, flashing pearly whites in indignation.

"No… No . You can fuck whoever you want." He says it too quickly. "I don't care."

He looks a mess; a gash above one eye, a nasty cut glancing the side of his lip, and knuckles bruised. Suspecting more hiding beneath his shirt, you look at him, gaze heavy. You're worried, even when you shouldn't be, even when he doesn't deserve it.

"Oh my God." You're connecting dots, and your stomach churns with the realisation. "What the fuck ?"

" M-not -"

"Just because you don't want to fuck me– "

"I never said I didn't want to–"

"You didn't have to, you just refused to acknowledge how we almost did for two weeks. "

"Neither did you!"

"I wanted to… after. And you said we couldn't, because I had a lecture."

"You did have a lecture, and you were high! That doesn't mean anything… I need you to mean it when you say it."

"So you resort to sabotage? I was gonna get laid, you fucking asshole."

"You kissed him."

" So? "

"You didn't kiss me."

That one takes the wind out of your sails, and you're stammering with the amount of brainpower it takes to wrap your head around it. You slip off the counter, putting some space between you both.

"...I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I'm not saying you can't kiss him… o-or you're not allowed to, or some crap. I just don't get it. I don't understand."

He's holding your hands in his,

"You just met the guy, and you kiss him on a stupid dare–"

" –he kissed me." You correct him, voice hoarse.

"He kissed you . Cool. Whatever. You kissed him back. But when I tried to kiss you, after… " He trails off.

"I dodged one kiss . Maybe I wasn't feeling it."

"And that's fine. I respect that, and I respect you. But it wasn't just one kiss. It's all the time , around here. I say something, then you say something, and then… we have a moment. Time just stops. Can't you feel it? I-I feel like I'm going crazy."

You keep quiet, only the sound of your heart racing to punctuate thoughts.

"Miguel… "

He gets even closer, pressing you against the counter, his bandaged hand migrating to your waist, and then the small of your back. Your knees are weak as you swallow roughly, with Miguel; strong, annoyingly handsome, perceptive Miguel; resting his forehead on yours. You come together, intimate, even allowing your eyes to flutter shut, waiting for the press of lips on yours.

It never comes. Wrenching yourself away at the last minute, you're standing in the doorway; arms folded, because you don't know what to do with your limbs anymore.

He doesn't look disappointed. Just deflated.

"Do you want to fuck me?" He asks. Yes , you answer, but he can't hear it.

"Do you want to kiss me?" Do you want me? Do you want me in a way no-one else can have me?

This feels different. Not as simple as a yes or no.

Your face must say it all for you, because he sighs. "I just want to know why."

His behaviour has been erratic, to say the least. You've spent a good month and a half terrorising each other, before coming to an uneasy truce – and he fucked it up. All that talk like he knows you, that he sees you, and it all feels for naught.

"After all the shit you've pulled… what gives you the right? I was so worried about you–" Your voice is barely above a whisper. " Fuck this. M'going to bed."

Slipping into the gloom of the hallway, and then into your room, leaving Miguel there.

It's different, why can't he see that it's different? A one night stand, with Jun, with someone else; kissing a guy in a dare doesn't have consequences. You get off, you go home. Simple, clinical, no need for niceties. With Miguel, as you've come to realise, there are other things to navigate. Even when high, you knew ; with someone like him, it's too intimate – the possible consequences too dire. He's your roommate, for God's sake.

You can hear him now, turning off the bathrooms lights and padding into his room. For once, there's nothing to be heard from behind the wall. The dim light spills in, warm yellow pooling around the door. Your window is open, moonlight and the city below to keep you company.

And you want him to stew in that room, to punish him for all the shit he's put you through in the past week; hell, the past few months you've been here. But you can't. If you're sick of the mind games, you can't keep this game of chicken going – you're both careening towards the edge faster than you can say the words: Yes, Miguel; I want to sit on your face. If you could get rid of the attitude, that would be great, too .

So you're knocking on his door, still in your dress, tugging down its hem when he opens. He's in that shirt and slacks, bloodied front and all.

Deep breath. You straighten your back, and make sure you're heard, loud and clear.

"I don't like it when you bring over girls to fuck them in your room. The walls are too thin, and I can't sleep because I hear everything. Everything, Miggy."

He's stony-faced, unreadable as ever. Still, you continue.

"I don't like it when you look at me… like that, and then pretend it never happened. You're inconsistent, sarcastic, you freak out whenever there's a sock out of place and it drives me fucking crazy–"

" I don't –"

"I'm not finished. You're a prick. You don't tell people you love them enough, when… when you do. You so clearly do. Lyla was worried when you took so long to get to Jess' – just give her a call, sometimes. Let people know what's going on."

His face is stuck somewhere between abject horror and plain old shock. For Miguel, that means his eyebrow is raised a half-inch higher than usual.

"...you finished?" He strains.

"One more.. ." Another breath. "...your poker face needs work. Because you look like you need a shit half the time."

His jaw shifts. You maintain eye contact; despite everything screaming that you should run with your tail between your legs.

"I fucking hate you , Miguel."

"I know." He softens, running a hand through his hair. Leaning against the frame, he steps a little closer; and imperceptibly, you're both pulled by the gravity of the other. All of a sudden, your head is on his chest, blood-spattered cotton that smells like him, arms wrapped around his middle. Hesitant, he pulls you even closer, slotting into the crook of your neck as best he can.

Wordlessly, you separate. You knit your eyebrows together, looking up at him. With your hand on his cheek, he leans into your touch. You graze a thumb on his lips, eyes fluttering at the broken skin: plump and messy and pretty.

"Sit down." You say it so softly, he convinces himself he didn't hear it.

You go again. "Sit down."

Your tone makes him flush, and then he's sitting on the edge of the bed. He leans back, you step forward; legs brushing his knees splayed atop the sheets.

"Do you want me?"

He's nodding before he even hears the end of the sentence, eyes locked onto yours.

You shrug.

"Prove it. "

And it goes straight to his cock: the way you say it, blasé and casual, like you haven't put words to the way he's been feeling for weeks. Usually, he'd start to spiral, endlessly loop around what you mean. Want , strong and heady; and to him that means a hungering that leaves his throat dry and innards bare.

Do you want me? Do you want me in a way no-one else can have me?

And yet, he doesn't quite know the answer. Instead, he shows you; hoping and praying he hasn't read this wrong.

Barely breathing, studying your every move, he takes your other hand. You hinge slightly at the hip, coming closer, eyes still locked onto his and he places your little palm onto his crotch. It spans his whole length, quickly hardening. When you don't react, he panics, trying to move your hand away…

…and then you squeeze .

Miguel keens, bucking into the pressure you apply with the heel of your palm. He starts a slow roll of hips, other hand wrapped around yours on his cheek; melting into it, in a way that brings heat to that sweet spot between your legs. And then he stutters to a stop, lips parted and panting.

"Why'd you stop?"

"G-Got carried away. Sorry ."

His brows are knitted, shoulders hunched, and when you slide your hand down to the corded muscles of his neck, he tenses. He always seems so stressed, but you've never seen him like this: desperate and falling apart at the seams.

"You're okay, Miguel. Relax. "

You shift your wrist, rolling around that growing tent in your palm. He hisses, palms flat by his side and head thrown back. With a little smile, you watch his shoulders melt, satisfied.

"Does it feel good?"

"Y-Yes." He groans. Despite your quickening pace, he seems to clamp down instinct; biting his cheek to muffle wanton moans.

"How about you get more comfortable for me?"

At first he doesn't understand, grumbling when you take your hand away from his clothed cock. Pulling him upwards, you make a start with his buttons, helping slide the fabric off of his shoulders. He slips his slacks off, and then he's left in black boxers; it's band hanging dangerously low.

They're tented, sporting a wet patch of precum around the fat tip of his dick. And he is large, its outline clear under the thin fabric.

You wrap a hand around his waist, other hand tracing up to his chest.

"What about you, chula? "

You look up. Miguel looks down at you, eyes low, large hand splayed between your shoulder blades.

"You don't like what I'm wearing?" Doe eyed, you don't really expect him to take you seriously.

"N-No, no. " He's stuttering, now. "You look beautiful. Always do. I just… I want to see more ."

You click your tongue with faux disapproval. "Don't be selfish, baby. You wanted my attention, right?"

He nods, with the self-awareness to be hesitant at your tone.

"Then," You start, slipping a hand into his boxers. You wrap a dainty hand around his length; thick and slanted and weeping at the tip. "Learn to be grateful."

"Ayy-" He wraps around you, head bowed to dip into your shoulder.

You pump his cock, other hand around his neck; eyes sparkling as you force him to look to his side, at you.

"F-Fuck–" He's breathing heavily, mouth open into a pretty little O , and you clamp a hand down to his jaw.

"What do you want?"

"R-Rapido, mas rapido por favor -"

[Faster, faster, please-]

Surprisingly vocal, he loses it as you press your thumb onto his slit; flushed and pouring with precum. You rub his wetness along the length of his shaft, squeezing and turning your wrist as you get to his tip. He likes that; hips bucking to fuck into the ring you make with your hand.

You want to savour this moment: Miguel stripped down to his boxers, beautifully tanned skin pressed up against yours. And of course, that look on his face; a lusty haze, even stronger than the one you were under when high, all those nights ago.

His lashes flutter, and you watch as his core tenses; watching and waiting for just the right moment to… stop.

You pull away, and he chases it, bucking into thin air. You're pushing him back onto the bed, with a hand to his chest. Eyes blown , he leans back onto his forearms; unable to tear himself away. There's a certain glow about you, a glint in your eye, one that takes his breath away. Something smug , a little smile as you drag a black thong down your pretty thighs. It's long forgotten when you chuck it onto the bed; Miguel still can't get over the sight of legs and a flash of your cunt, committing it to memory.

Sidling up to his chest, you kick a leg over and seat yourself onto his lap. Flush against the fabric, you settle onto your knees. The look in Miguel's eyes almost bowls you over; stunning and windswept, as he runs a hand over your thigh. Eyes wide at the way the fabric pools around your body: the swell of tits cupped by silk, how good it looks against your skin.

He's staring at where you meet, that spot between your thighs when it happens; when you guide his hand to the apex of your pussy. His thumb slots against your clit like it belongs there, rough pads applying just the right amount of pressure.

"Oh f-fuuuck," You sigh into it, pressing your tits to his chest in a way that makes him hump into the pocket left by your body and the smooth fabric of your dress.

Even in his haze, Miguel is hyperfocused on your pleasure, obsessed with the noises he can pull from you. With a big hand on your waist, he pulls you closer to slot you against his front. It's your turn to moan, the prettiest thing he thinks he's ever heard, slipping his cock between your lower lips with a swirling intensity.

You're drunk with the pleasure, hands on his shoulders to angle him towards your clit. He thinks you look like an angel, head tilted back to expose the expanse of your neck. Bringing his teeth to that slight vein, he's a killer; sucking rough hickeys to the skin.

"M'close, fuck –"

"Damelo, hermosa, " He places two palms at the globes of your ass, squeezing and pressing into you even closer.

[Give it to me, beautiful.]

"Miguel…shit–b-baby, think I'm–"

You cum, gushing and clamping down around nothing. Miguel is more interested in the way you transform ; fine lines and deep furrows of your face softening, the pure bliss written into the gentle arch of your body. He did that. It makes his chest warm, it makes his cock swell; and with the feeling of slipping through your pretty folds, he gets so, so close to that biting edge.

You stop, slipping off of his lap and he whines at the loss of you. Tugging down your dress, you make your way out of the room and he's reeling , clutching at your arm so you don't leave.

"Chula ," He's babbling, tucked back into his boxers, but on his knees for you. "I'm sorry, please. Do you want me to beg? Because I will , baby, I w–"

Helping him up, you give him a little smile that he's too pussy-drunk to realise its true nature. Dangerous, you cup his face with both hands, brows pressed together and large, sparkling eyes. Not quite sympathy, but it's enough to make him think you'll wrap a hand around his cock out of pity, press those pretty tits against him and–

On your tiptoes, you give him a chaste kiss between his brows. You flash him a stunning smile, bottom lip hooked under your teeth.

"Goodnight , Miguel."

And then you're out the door, down the little hallway and into your bedroom. Miguel runs a shaky hand through his hair, unsure whether to laugh or cry. And he knows, still rock hard, body burning with the memory of you: he's fucked.

~~~

When morning comes, Miguel wrenches open his eyes, bloodshot and sore. He feels like shit , barely able to sit up without feeling like his chest will collapse.

It feels like he was ran over in a headfirst collision; and he was, essentially, wincing at the memory of that fight. He can feel strike one and two; between his ribs, to the side of his navel; but the real knockout punch was you – a deadly, calculated assault that he almost hates you for.

Almost.

He came harder than he has in months last night; bent over his cock, pumping shakily. It had only taken a couple of rough tugs until he spilled all over himself; embarrassingly quick. He lasted longer the second time, unable to help himself.

In his defence, the black thong you had slipped off was right there ; rumpled amongst the sheets. He had pressed it to his nose and then wrapped them around his shaft; eyes closed as he imagined being buried in your plush pussy. All his fantasies; quickies in the shower spent jerking off to the thought of you, where he'd hold onto the feeling of brushing past you in the kitchen, or little touches on the couch. You've surpassed them, well and truly.

Now, he stumbles into the shower, stripping on the tiles. Inspecting himself in the mirror, he pokes at flesh; purple bruises stretching over brown and tan muscle. Turning around and craning his head, he follows them all the way to his back and then… oh. He can see them: scratchy-sharp lines, spanning the width of his shoulder blades. You did that, he thinks.

Fuck . He's hard again, sighing heavily as he clambers into the shower. It sputters to life, ice cold, but he grits his teeth and takes it , trying to free his mind of cotton and cobwebs. As the water warms up, he presses both hands flat on the tile, head down and eyes closed. The water washes over him, down his back, and like a flash of lightning he's imagining you pressed up against him, bent in half over his cock. He'd press a thumb to your clit, slamming into your ass; fucking you hard, like you deserve. You'd like that , he thinks, from what he's heard of you in your room, the filth that spills from your mouth and to his side of the wall.

"Miguel?" It's a little muffled over the shower, but you get closer to the door.

"Yes?" He shouts over the rush of water. He shouldn't . He really shouldn't.

"You've got a call!"

He hums. With the way you say his name he caves, making a tight ring around his length.

"It's Lyla, and-" Something clatters. " Fuck , sorry."

Your voice is breathy, little groans as you pick up whatever's dropped to the floor. Miguel feels like a perv, turning the water pressure down to listen to your voice properly. All the while, he keeps a steady pace on his cock.

"Should I just let it ring? Keep it going?"

Keep going is what he hears, and then he speeds up, wondering what it would be like to have your thighs shake underneath him. What would it would it take to have you babbling and begging for more? How would he break you? Maybe on his cock, where he'd watch you squirm as you take his length.

"Miguel?"

Or maybe you'd be on your knees, choking around him and licking up his cum. Or, God , thighs wrapped around his head, riding out your high with his mouth sealed on your clit, crying for him slow down, for him to-

H-Harder, please–

That's how you would ask him, clawing at his back, and he'd capture those pleas in a searing kiss.

"–Miguel!"

He releases, sudden and intense, spilling white ropes onto the tiles. He fucks his fist through it, overstimulated from the way you say his name. It feels like the only way it should be said; spilling from your mouth, haphazard and desperate. Like honey, like treacle; sweet things he didn't know he had the capacity for. He lets that feeling wash over him, panting, bringing his forehead to rest on cool tile.

"Just take a message," He strains, panting as you say something in response. He doesn't quite catch it, of course, too busy reeling from the aftershock.

The shower croaks and gurgles, spluttering to a stop. He listens as your footsteps recede beyond the door, moving away.

Shit. It's going to be a long day.

~~~

You sleep like a baby. Lulled into blissful sleep, after practically floating into bed. That orgasm does wonders; and you sleep better than you have in months. You dream of cotton candy clouds, flowing green grass, and tanned, muscled men on their knees; in the kind of sleep that wraps around you like a blanket.

Surprisingly fresh in the morning, you wake up before Miguel does. You're milling about the hallway when he barrels into the bathroom, and on the couch when he leaves.

"Mig?" You poke your head towards the door, and he almost jumps half a foot into the air.

Eyes wide, and he can barely manage a weak smile.

"Lyla called."

"Yeah, you…" He sighs, clutching the towel slung around his waist a little tighter. "You mentioned it."

In the light of the morning, you're able to assess him a lot better. To put it plainly, he looks rough ; blinking at you oddly, shifting when you come closer. You don't touch him, Miguel seems much too antsy for that, but you get closer to inspect the bruises that bloom across his side. It looks even worse than yesterday, purple and blue across taut muscle. You reach for it and he flinches, so you pull away.

"...you okay?"

" Yep. " He grits it through a plasticky smile; and the fact that it reaches his eyes is a red flag in of itself for the usual grump.

The side-eye you respond with isn't quite enough to chip at it, so he continues.

"M'just fine."

" O–kay . Lyla said something about a debrief , earlier."

"At the usual place?"

"...uhhh. She said at HQ? In about an hour."

"Okay… okay. Nonono, that's fine… okay." He's muttering to himself and about to turn around when something catches his eye. Your lips; pretty gloss and freshly done. In fact, you're fully dressed to go out; in a display that has him confused.

You answer the question he posits with a slightly raised eyebrow.

"She invited me, Mig."

His eyebrows shoot up. "Of c.. of course she did."

Distracted and haphazard, Miguel gets dressed; squeezing into the car with a flask of coffee to-go. It scares you; the way he barely flinches while taking sips of the bitter liquid you know must be piping hot. He's acting weird, even weirder than usual; but you let it wash over you and move on.

Eventually, you pull up to HQ ; a shitty dive bar that is inexplicably serving breakfast and other miscellaneous items at 12pm. At least, that's what it looks like, arriving to see one overcrowded table and a sea of pancakes and coffee. Jess sports a croissant and orange juice, whilst Peter scoffs down a burger almost as big as his face.

"Miguel!" He says it with a mouthful of pickles, beef and patty, slapping the man in question heartily on the back.

He winces, batting Peter away before sliding into the seat next to you. For barely a second, your legs brush together and he's shifting away. Okay. That's… odd.

You're sifting through menus when you glance over to the counter and you see her : a pretty woman of about 25, tucking red hair away behind her ear. Your heart stops, and then you're tapping Miguel.

" Look, " You hiss quietly, nodding towards the counter. " Isn't that…? "

June McGinnity, the premier main character in the hit tv soap, And Everyday Before The Last; The Final Season. It's the very same show you've been bingeing for the past 6 months. 18 seasons, 3 spinoffs, and a revival currently in the works; you're obsessed with the show that's gotten you through your last breakup – and the one before that, and a couple of rocky moments with your parents.

She's been a staple for the last couple of seasons, quickly skyrocketing to popularity in her minor role, and now , in The Final Season, she's got her well-deserved spot as a season regular. June is tenacious, smart, absolutely hilarious, and–

" –she's coming over here . Shit, Miggy, she's coming over," You whisper to him and for the first time this morning; he smiles, wide and genuine. It takes you back; not just because he looks so pretty when he smiles, but because you have no idea what's so funny.

June slips into the seat besides Peter, and your eyes almost fall out of their sockets. She gives him a kiss on the cheek , as Peter brushes away blunt bangs. Frantic, you turn to Miguel, who's trying not to piss himself laughing.

He's borderline howling, and you put a hand around his arm to get him to keep quiet – to stop embarrassing you in front of June – but he's too busy wiping away tears.

Peter turns to the scene, clearly confused. He says something to June, and then he's turning to you, saying your name.

"Hey, I don't think I've introduced you to– Miguel, please shut the fuck up– this is–"

"MJ." She smiles, brilliant and sparkling, with her hand outstretched and you think you might pass out.

"I'm–" You're stumbling over your words, grasping her hand before you can overthink it. Maybe it comes off as overzealous, but you're desperately trying to shut out Miguel's laughing. "I'm a massive fan, you're so incredibly talented ; as June – I always cry at that one scene when you meet your long-lost sister... a-and when you find out that Jackie is actually your Mom, I swear, I get chills–"

The man besides you splutters, hunched over and gripping onto the table for support. It's getting egregious, now, and you make it known as best you can with a dirty look.

"I'm, oh fuck, no… I'm done, I promise." He clamps down a smile, hands up in surrender.

"Was that… too much?" You gain some semblance of perspective, and then you're falling over yourself to apologise. " Shit , I'm really, really sor–"

" – No, no. You're good, it's nice to get recognised for that show! Most of the demographic is old people and pensioners, honestly. Not a lot of IRL interaction with fans, if you know what I mean." She flashes you that smile, again, and you melt. She turns to the man beside you. "Don't be a dick, Miguel."

"Yeah, Miguel." Peter continues to inhale what you think is his second burger, wagging a sauce covered finger. "What she said."

Miguel rolls his eyes so hard you think they might rattle about in his skull, and you give him a rough shove for good measure. Down the other side of the table, you spot Lyla; downing a brightly coloured drink and massaging her temples.

"Shit , Lyla. You want to slow it down?" Jess says, and then her eyes are flicking over to yours. She does a double take, giving you a wide smile. " Hey , y'all! When did you get here?"

"Not long!" You call back, and she gives you a thumbs up in response. Lyla coughs beside her, sporting a nasty grimace; and then she's up and looking around the table, as if taking a headcount. At least, you think she does, as it's hard to see her eyes between pink tinted shades. They slip down her nose and she brings a fork to the empty glass; silencing the rabble.

"M-Morning…" She stills, hand on her chest like she's got heartburn; throat bobbing as she gags slightly. "Morning, everyone. First off, hope you all feel as shitty as I do."

And then there's cheers and good-natured elbowing, especially towards Ben and Miguel. Apparently , if you're to believe the whispers and rumour mill; Ben took to bar-hopping across town, ending the night without a shoe and someone else's shirt. He gives a rueful smile, holding up a mug to scattered laughter. And Miguel… well, he's Miguel , sitting back in his seat with folded arms.

"Second," She pauses, for dramatic effect. "Someone's volunteered to pay for the next round of food to apologise for last night… everyone say Thank you, Miguel."

She starts a limp round of applause with a flourish, and sits down. There's only about a dozen people there: most you recognise, and some you don't. There was no attempt to explain what exactly a debrief was; so you're left disorientated in the mash of voices. Miguel picks at waffles besides you, in his own world. Without a word, you get up, making your way towards neon bathroom signs in the corner.

It's some peace and quiet, a moment to think as you look at your reflection in the mirror. You look lighter , as if a weight was lifted off of your shoulders last night. Your skin looks a little brighter, eyes sharper and even your hair falls differently, today. You feel good, and it seems to translate to the person looking back it you. Wow. You're practically–

" -glowing. Shit , you look good." Lyla calls out from behind you, entering the little bathroom with Jess.

Jess gives you a warm hug, and Lyla follows before pushing up heart shaped glasses.

" Damn, girl." Jess gives a low whistle, hands on her shoulders to turn you this way and that.

They make you giggle, with a warmth that blooms at your chest.

"Was it that cute guy from last night?"

Lyla interrupts. " Jun! Did he send you a little something after you got home?"

"Did you ditch Miguel to get some?"

"God, did you invite Jun over? "

Jess gasps, before quickly adding. "No judgement, of course. Once upon a time, we probably would've done the same thing."

It's a back and forth that gives you whiplash, dodging fastballs that get hit into the tiles. Not trusting yourself to speak, you shake your head, demurely.

"...are you telling us you didn't have sex last night? Because that glow says something different."

You clamp down any words that might give you away, but Jess' sharp eyes latch onto the cracks: a little smile tugging at the sides of your lips.

"So not Jun … but someone else? Last night…? "

The penny drops and then she's grabbing at you and Lyla. When realisation hits the mousy brunette to your side, she's flinging off pink shades to look you in the eye.

"You fucked Miguel?"

"No!" You're hissing, trying to calm raucous behaviour. "Technically, not… yet."

"Not yet? " Lyla repeats, astonished. "I mean, I thought you two were already–"

"It makes sense! Could've sworn I saw his knees shakin' today…"

"Okay, okay…" You're laughing, finally understanding the magnitude of the grenade you've just lobbed at them. "It wasn't like that . It's not a thing."

"...do you want it to be a thing?"

You tilt your head, pretending to think on it. Yes , you want to ride him till something breaks; but Miguel is a walking red flag. You know, deep down, nothing good can come out of it.

"Don't… don't say it like that."

"Look, Ly, she wants it to be a thing. "

" Definitely. It's basically already a thing ." Lyla concurs, nodding firmly.

"Fuck you guys." It's not said with spite, leaving your mouth with a smile.

"Oh, no. You like 'em tall, and tan, and a little grumpy. You mean: Fuck me, Miguel. "

You're swatting her away, whilst Jess is doubled over in laughter; hand on the ceramic to steady herself. They're good fun; raucous and boisterous and making you feel welcome, when you know they really don't have to.

The laughter dies down, and they're leading you out of the bathroom to their side of the table, chattering away. Jess digs into another pancake, rock hard, and all of a sudden you're telling her about the waffles at Pam's Diner, and all the interesting characters you've met there. Lyla nurses another sweet cocktail, chattering on about a pre-game she's got in a couple of hours; and then you're exchanging stories about hangovers and missed lectures.

From their conversation, you slowly learn what a debrief entails: the remnants of a tradition they'd started when 19 and spotty. All of them, friends of friends, roommates, classmates; growing to know each other in the dinky bar across the street from their dorms. Tending to hangovers in the morning from an all night rager, or pre-gaming before the biggest events of the year: it's something that trickled down to every so often later in their adulthoods. It's something else Miguel started, surprising you yet again.

So absorbed in their heart-to-heart, time flies by; and late breakfast turns to brunch. You're exchanging phone numbers, and left smiling from lots of little tete-a-tetes, before Miguel tries to drag you to the car. One last goodbye had turned into two, which had turned into four; and then he's grumbling alone in the car for a dire couple of minutes.

You open the door, glowing. Your mood dampens immediately as you sit down; soured by Miguel's own swirling dark cloud. He seems worse than before, somehow. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, the air thick with something. Where you would've bit your tongue before, pushed down difficult-to-say words, now, you find a surge of confidence.

"Miguel," You start, and he turns; key still in the ignition.

You look around at the parking lot, mostly empty, except for you two.

"Can we talk?"

"...sure." His tone seems anything but sure; which feels like a first, for him.

"About last night."

"Oh." And then he's gone again, eyes flicking around the cab of the car. All of a sudden the mirror needs fixing, and he's fiddling with some buttons on the dash.

You place a hand on his to still him. He doesn't flinch.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah." He shrugs. You don't believe him.

"Did you like it?"

He pauses, chewing his lip. " Yes ."

You believe that .

"Good." You hum. "I liked it. But you made me feel like shit, too."

He softens. "I did?"

"You did. You only wanted me after you saw me with someone else. After I kissed Jun."

You wait to see if he admits it, and his hand curls into a fist, tight. His grip relaxes, and then his voice comes out in a whisper.

"Y-Yeah… I was jealous." He seems remorseful, at least.

You sigh. "I don't want a relationship with you, or anything. But it made me feel like… an object. A conquest, another notch on your belt because you only want me when you can't have me. It made me feel shitty, Miguel."

"I fucked up," He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Wasn't really thinking, chula. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Miguel. I like fucking around with you." You say it with a small smile. "I want… more ."

"Me too." He's smiling back, shy, brushing against you with fingers stretched out.

"That's fine, more than fine. We can do this because I make you feel good, and you make me feel good, and somehow… this works . But we need to keep this," Gently, you push away his hand, gesturing between you both. "...and us separate. My heart can't take the possibility of this blowing up. And… And it's probably going to be me; 'cuz I seem to like getting my heart broken."

You give a watery laugh, but he doesn't laugh with you; instead, boring into your soul with red-brown eyes.

"If we're going to do this, it means I can't kiss you, properly ; it means no cuddling after sex, or staying the night in your bed." It's why you couldn't kiss him before, and you hope he understands. "You can say no… you probably should say no. But that's what I want, right now. And those are my terms."

It takes a moment before he respond, mulling it over, and you barely breath in the interim.

"I want you ." He nods slowly, and then more firmly as he turns the key in the ignition. The engine rumbles to life, as Miguel turns to you with as best a smile he can manage. Lip cut, hair smattered across his forehead, and thick brows softening; he says, firmly, " Yeah, I'd like that."

Miguel taglist: @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns

@ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings @aiyaaayei @hyp-oh-critical @tea-earl-grey-thot @sunset-euphoria @moonsio @akiras-key@szaplsdropthealbum@levanneisdumb @naiya-patel17 @Serostapesweat @strawberrymiguel @yumeeesss @errorundyne-exe @spear-bitch @redsoleily @marsissoswag @slezhara @ye4gerzz @adlct515 @nanam1 @indigocookie @cincocosas-blog @starguiders @path0logicalpeoplepleaser@funkyfishy@whoreloll@eugeab@tarjapearce@maddielikesmoths@egotaestical

#miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o hara x reader #rigor mortis 😼#kat_writes😼#spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara smut

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lovelybrooke · 2 months

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Platonic Yandere Hazbin Hotel Concept (Pt.3)

I know this says Hazbin Hotel but this mostly concerns Helluva boss. Please check out my immortal reader au masterlist and read part 1 and 2 before reading this.

masterlist

---

Getting back to regular life was hard.

Your mother made you go back to school quickly after you woke up from your coma. People were nosey, asking too many questions that you could barely answer, and on top of that your mind was still racing with everything that had happened. It all felt so real, you didn't expect to wake up. But ultimately you fell back into a routine quickly. Going to school, going to work, going home, and waking up to do it all again. It was hard to accept that everything was just in your head, but you moved on.

All you wanted to focus on was catching up with school, but that was difficult with your peers and their questions. You guess that's what happens when you get hit by a car. But you just wanted all of them to shut up and leave you alone. It was all so much that you were leaving work early constantly because everyone seemed to know you. You spent most of your time back at home taking care of your mother.

While after finishing cleaning up one night and finally getting your mother in bed, you went to go take your medicine. While most of your wounds healed shockingly fast, you still needed medication to keep you stable until further notice. Maybe you weren't paying attention, maybe you got confused and picked up the wrong bottle, but when you went to bed, you didn't wake up.

Well that wasn't correct, because when you did, you were back in Hell, but you didn't recognized any of this. You knew this was Pride, but noting by the fact that you've never really left the hotel alone, that was the best you got. You didn't want to be here, you just wanted to go back home, you didn't want to go through this again. You watched with an anxious breath as Imps passed you on the street, and as a kept looking around, you noticed you were in front of a building, so that's were you went, attempting to hide away from everything.

The building looked normal for the most part, kinda dirty if you were being honest, but it was better than being gawked at in the streets. You were hoping to find a way back to the hotel, just find the people you knew. As you sit in the lobby of building you hugged yourself and sighed, barely hearing the door open. You wanted to laugh at how familiar this whole situation was, but the noise wouldn't come out, and all you could hear was "who are you, sweetie?"

It was a female imp, right next to her another male imp, who looked way more concerned than her. "Millie, is that a human." He whispered to the other, but you could still very much hear him. Honestly, you were finding it hard to care about their shock, you've already been through this before you don't need to hear it again.

"Excuse me, yeah—I'm sorry, could you tell me where I am?" You interrupting their muttering. They both instantly stop talking, looking at you for a few seconds before the female imp moves towards you and takes your hand, ignoring your question.

"Could you come with me?" You didn't really have a choice, so you go with the two into another room, this one with a long table, another Imp and a hellhound in the room, both unbothered by the two other imps storming in the room. "Blitzo why was there a human in the lobby?"

Suffice to say that Blitzo didn't know who you were at all, but your presence still caused an uproar. Talks about grimoire's and jobs, all of which didn't matter to you. You sulked back into the chair you were now in as you listen to the others argue, mentally trying to think of a way to get to the hotel without drawing too much attention to yourself. "Look..." You eventually spoke. "Just tell me where the Hazbin Hotel is and I'll leave you all alone."

"The what now?" Blitzo gawked, causing you to sulk ever further into your chair. This was going to be impossible.

Since then, the married couple, Millie and Moxie, were nice enough to let you stay with them, spending the rest of your time at their job with Blitzo and his daughter Loona. It wasn't ideal, but since one seemed to know about the Hotel, you given up getting back there any time soon. But everyone seemed nice, especially Mille and Moxie, who seemed very happy to have you around, even though you tried to stay out of their hair. Even though, they both seemed to like you, making it a surprise that they didn't have any children of their own.

The couple loved you, they loved having you at their home, taking care of you. It was a nice change of pace from the work that Blitzo put them through. Even though you were older, they couldn't help but treat you like a child. They couldn't care less that you were human, all they wanted to do was take care of you.

Blitzo and Loona were also nice, even though you tend to hang out with Loona more. She was closer to you in age, and while sardonic, it was nice having a friend your own age. And for the first time in a while, it seemed like she actually enjoyed hanging out with you, which made you happy. Blitzo at first made you nervous, but after realizing that he wasn't nearly as scary as you once thought, you warmed up to him. You never really understood why Loona hated him so much, he seemed like a great dad, but you're not really the judge of good and bad dads.

Loona thought you were great, you related to her in ways others didn't, you were fun and a distraction from work. What she didn't get was Blitzo and his weird fascination with you. Maybe it was because you were close to her in age, or because you were a human, but it's not like Blitzo hasn't seen them before. Honestly, Blitzo couldn't explain it himself, but you reminded him of Loony in some ways, and he just knew there was something deeper about you, even if you would never admit it.

After a while, you started to fall into a routine. It was nice having people take care of you. You felt like a kid again around Millie and Moxie, and their care nearly mad you forget about the hotel. They were interested in you as a person, in your life, and it made you feel important. Blitzo also seemed to take an interest in you, one that seemed strange for someone that had a daughter. You never wanted to get to close to you, afraid of making Loona uncomfortable, but it was nearly impossible to get him to leave you alone.

One day, Loona invited you to party in part of hell you've never even heard of. To not seem like a loser, you excepted, and while Millie and Moxie were nervous for you, you managed to meet up with Loona and head to the party. It was--a lot to say the least, and while you tried to keep up with Loona, you eventually lost her, and you headed outside to catch a breath. It was there that you met Octavia. She didn't seem like someone to be at a party, but a lot of people were at this party so it wasn't that weird. She was soft spoken, but nice, and she eventually even invited you over to her home. You couldn't give her an answer before Loona found you and dragged you off. It seemed like she knew Octavia, but you didn't want to assume anything, and never asked.

Octavia liked having a friend, something to distract her from the chaos of her home life. You were a safe haven for her, something she seemed to crave as time went on, and on top of that you seemed to understand her. You were a great listener, a great friend, and someone she wanted to keep to herself. It's why she wanted to keep you away from her dad, she cared about him, but she didn't want anything to change about you, she just wanted you to be hers.

You spent a lot of your time after that messaging Octavia whenever you could. She was similar to Loona in ways, cynical and moody during some times, but also funny and genuinely a great person. She also hated her dad, who she complained about a lot when messaging with you. You didn't know how to act when she got like that, making you feel awkward when she complained to you. She was the first person you told about your family, feeling like a weight was lifted from your chest, even if there was still a lot to be worried about.

---

A/n: All the characters wouldn't fit, so feel free to ask about them in separate posts. I really don't want to write a part 4 but I will if I have to. Also I know this sucked but I wanted to get this over with, sorry

#yandere x reader #soft yandere #platonic yandere #platonic yandere helluva boss #yandere helluva boss #helluva boss x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #platonic yandere hazbin hotel #yandere hazbin hotel

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froggibus · 11 months

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I Love You, I Love You. It’s Disgusting. - Leon S Kennedy

Pairing: Leon S Kennedy x reader

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: the deal has always been no serious commitment, but that all changes when you accidentally confess your love for him

CW: FWB, angst -> fluff, hurt/comfort, commitment issues, unrequited love, mutual pining, love confessions

syd? making fun of Leon’s commitment issues? call that projecting B)

————

“Do you really have to go?” You look up at Leon with sad eyes.

He tugs his jeans over his hips and starts to lace his belt through the loops. He sighs. It was barely five in the morning, you should’ve been dead asleep. You usually were.

Through the countless times Leon had ran out on you during the night, you had been out cold. It made it easier for him—not having to see the disappointed look on your face, not having to confront your feelings.

All it took was one fumble of his hands for his phone to clatter on your floor, snapping you out of your sleep. He knew he was fucked as soon as your eyes flickered open.

“You know I do,” he says. “It’s work and—”

“It’s always work,” you mumble bitterly, drawing your knees into your chest.

“My work is important.”

“And I’m not?”

It was a low blow. You knew the nature of your relationship just as much as Leon—nothing serious, no commitments, just him reaching out to you in the dead of night for a shred of comfort. Your arms were wide open for him, but he always kept you at arm’s length.

You’ve tried so fucking hard to not catch feelings for the man, knowing how he is and his inability to ever commit. Still, when he had walked into your door a week ago and wrapped his arms around you, your feelings bubbled to the surface.

All week, it had been on your mind, on the tip of your tongue. Not that you would ever say it—those weren’t words you could say to him, not unless you want to be hurt.

“You know what this is,” he sighs, “so I don’t know what your problem is.”

Leon’s words make you cringe, but you know he’s right. If you were less stubborn, you would just move on. Find someone who actually wants to move forward with you. But that would mean moving on from Leon, and a part of you knows that you never truly could.

I love you. The words float around in your mind, trying to force their way out of you. You bite them back, swallowing hard.

“The problem is that I don’t want this, Leon! We’re not kids anymore, I want to move forward with my life!”

“And why does that have to be with me?”

You tug on your hair in frustration. “Because I lo—” you stop yourself before the words slip out, but the look on Leon’s face tells you that he knows what you were going to say.

You turn your head away from him and bite your tongue, trying to hide your wet eyes from him. You can hear him rustling his clothes behind you, pulling his t-shirt and jacket on.

Leon can’t bring himself to say anything. He knows he should. At the very least, he should just tell you he wants space. You clearly feel something for him that he can’t for you, and you deserve to be let go. But the thought of not having you leaves a bitter taste in his mouth and a pit in his stomach.

He grabs his wallet off of your nightstand and leaves without so much as a glance at you. As soon as you hear your front door slam, you let yourself fall apart.

—

The next two weeks is sheer misery for the both of you.

You hear nothing from Leon, and while it’s not unusual for him to be radio silent for days at a time, this is something else entirely. There’s a constant cloud of anxiety floating around you, and you find yourself checking your phone way too much.

Leon knows he’s an asshole. His guilt overwhelms him, and it makes it almost impossible to focus on work. To focus on anything other than the image of you, teary eyed and half naked in bed after almost confessing your love to him.

The words float around his head. He’s always had some feelings for you buried under the surface, but love? That’s such a stupid word. Such a big deal. Love feels like a cage to him, and the idea of being in love? It makes him sick.

He grabs his phone and opens your contact. He types three words and then deletes them, and types them again, and then deletes them. He should just leave you alone. He’s done enough damage, and he knows if he talks to you again, he’ll have to actually acknowledge his feelings towards you. Towards what you said.

You wish you could say you’re surprised when he shows up at your door at 3am, almost three weeks after the incident.

You go to close the door in his face but he catches it with his hand and forces his way inside.

His blue eyes are stormy and his soft hair is dishevelled. “I just want to talk.”

“I have nothing to say to you, Kennedy.”

He sucks in a breath at your use of his last name. He’s always been Leon to you, or on some late drunken nights, Scott. This is nothing like those nights, and the warmth he feels at the memories of you are drowned out by the fear in his chest.

Fear of losing you. Fear of those three fucking words that have been plaguing him for the past three weeks.

“Please?” His voice is soft, pleading. You’ve never quite heard him like this.

You keep your back turned to him. You’re not sure if you can even look at him right now, not without remembering how much of an idiot you are, how stupid you are for having these feelings for him.

“I’m sorry just—look at me, please.”

You turn around impossibly slow, drawing your eyes up from the floor to meet his. He’s dressed casually—a black t-shirt and grey sweatpants, but he looks like a model. Even with his under eye bags and the frown on his face, he’s the prettiest man you’ve ever seen.

Despite the fact that you’ve spent countless nights together, having his eyes on you still makes you flustered.

“What were you going to say? That morning, I mean.”

You fight the urge to raise your voice. “You know what I was going to say, Leon.”

He relaxes slightly when you use his first name. It’s not much, but it’s a start. “So say it now.”

“I’m not going to say it. I can’t say it.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s you, Leon. It’s you and it’s me and god, it’s you. You’ll be out of the country before I even finish my sentence and I—I don’t want to deal with this right now.”

He takes a cautious step forward. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You can’t just—ugh!” You tug on your hair, blinking back the tears that are threatening to form. “You can’t say that after you walked out on me.”

Leon stays quiet, stormy eyes fixated on you. He’s become something of an expert at reading body language, and he knows you well enough to know you’re about to cry.

“You’ve spent the past few years insisting that we’re nothing more than what we already are. And now you’re sitting there, looking at me, expecting me to lose everything.”

Leon grabs your shoulders, looking at you seriously. “What do you think you’re going to lose, y/n?”

“You,” your voice is barely a whisper and you choke on the lump in your throat. “I’m going to lose you.”

“Y/n…”

You shake your head, salty tears rolling down your cheeks. You lean your forehead against his chest.

“It’s not fair,” you sob, hitting his chest with your fist. “I just—I can’t.”

Leon catches your wrists in his hand, holding them tightly. “You’re not going to lose me. I know what I said before, and I was wrong.”

You look up at him through teary lashes. You’ve never seen him this vulnerable before. He’s always been quiet and stern and withdrawn, and you’ve gotten used to his silence over the years. So to see him this vulnerable, this vocal….

“I,” he sucks in a breath, “I love you.”

His words echo in your head. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted to hear, and yet you don’t know what to say.

“That doesn’t change anything.”

“I love you.”

“You’re still going to leave me in the mornings and you’re still going to hate commitment and—”

“Y/n,” he stops you before your thoughts can run wild. “I love you.”

Your heart speeds up at his words. There’s butterflies in your stomach, and for the first time in weeks, you don’t feel ashamed of your feelings.

“Please say it back,” he practically whimpers.

You step forwards and wrap your arms around his shoulders, letting your whole body weight fall into his arms. “I love you,” you mumble into his shoulder.

He pets the back of your head and holds you as close as possible. Love has always seemed like a cage to him, but with you, he’s never felt more free.

#leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy angst #Leon kennedy #resident evil #resident evil x reader #resident evil x you #resident evil angst #hurt/comfort #x You #x reader #resident evil 4 #re #re4 #re4 leon

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netflix · 7 months

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Spotlight: Adam Stockhausen

Production Designer, The Wonderful Story Henry Sugar

Oscar winning production designer Adam Stockhausen (not pictured above, that’s Benedict Cumberbatch), whose work you may know from Wes Anderson films like The Grand Budapest Hotel, Asteroid City, The French Dispatch, Isle of Dogs, and Moonrise Kingdom, as well as titles like Bridge of Spies, and West Side Story (2021), took the time to answer some questions.

Which details from or aspects of The Wonderful Story Henry Sugar did you focus the most on while adapting it to the screen? How did you meld Roald Dahl and Wes’s worlds?

The details on this one started with Dahl’s writing hut! We matched the details pretty carefully and exactly. As soon as we step outside of the hut though we start to move through the world of the story and the world of the stage at the same time. Wes had the idea of how he wanted to do this from the very beginning. My main challenge was trying to figure out how to pull it off—making the parts move and getting each to have the right detail.

What’s a small change you made on a project that ended up having an unexpectedly significant impact?

Lots of times this happens—where what seems like a small thing at the time becomes a very significant turning point. I’m in Berlin now writing this and remembering being here scouting for East Berlin for Bridge of Spies. We were struggling to find a section of town that still felt old enough to show the early 60s, and decided to take a chance on a quick search in Poland. That quick search changed the whole production plan and ultimately gave us the look of our East Berlin.

How has technology changed the way you approach your work?

Technology has definitely changed the way we plan the work. We used to model everything in cardboard or sometimes just plan in two dimensions with pencil and paper. We can now plan in 3-dimensional space using modeling programs and see what real lenses will do. This allows for more accurate planning and makes scenery moves like the casino set in Henry Sugar possible.

Do you have any signature easter eggs you like to leave? Any small details that you are particularly fond of?

I wouldn’t say there are easter eggs in this one. But there are loads of special details! I think my favorite might be the levitation boxes where we painted a perspective view of the background onto a prop box. The actor sitting on the box appears to be floating in a very special and theatrical way.

Did you talk about reflecting the iconic Quentin Blake illustrations in production design? How would you go about doing that?

Not really. They are such incredible drawings and I’d say they’ve been inspiring me since I saw them as a child! But for this the starting point was really the machine Wes devised to move us through the story—and pairing that to specific references scene by scene.

There is such an intentionality to the aesthetics of a Wes world. Is there a set or frame that took you a long time to get perfectly right?

All of them! It’s a very labor-intensive process getting these frames right. Occasionally one will click right away, but usually it’s a process of refining and refining. The jungle for instance went from sketches to models to samples and back again several times before the final look settled.

If you had to present one frame that showcases the best of your work, what would it be?

Oh my. Maybe the jungle? I really enjoyed making the jungle!

With all the moving sets in the trailer for The Wonderful Story Henry Sugar, it feels reminiscent of a theatre production. Are there distinct differences in approach between film and theatre and how much do you blur the lines between them in your work?

I think the lines are blurred completely! Or maybe they aren’t even there. I love that Henry Sugar is so incredibly theatrical in its storytelling. It allows us to show the artifice of the sets all the time which somehow makes them even more satisfying when they finally do line up and create a complete picture. I think the casino set is a perfect example—the pauses where it all lines up for a second are even more enjoyable because we get to see it broken apart and sliding away.

Thanks, Adam!

#spotlight #entertainment spotlight #adam stockhausen #wes anderson #production design #filmblr #wes weaving #web weaving

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alwritey-aphrodite · 11 months

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Cruel Summer

no rules in breakable heaven

Pairing: Jaime Tartt x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ - smut(f receiving oral, other implied nonsense, cursing

Word Count: 5.5k

Author’s Note: clearly I’ve gotten caught up in the babygirl wave, my lovely wife @andr0medafallen helped me immensely and I love her. Also I’m just a slutty little virgin so I can’t be held accountable for any inaccuracies

Conversations are swirling around you, music is blasting from a building down the street, you’re keenly aware of the blood pumping in your veins, and you need a goddamn break.

You loved spending time with Keeley, you really did, but it’s hot and muggy outside, and this is the fifth party you’d been to in the past week. Tonight, at least, is with the Richmond boys, and not some friend of a friend of Keeley’s where all you do is stand in the corner and drink by yourself. Keeley, ever the social butterfly, is off chatting with Rebecca and Leslie, giving you the opportunity to focus on not losing your mind.

It’s strange, to feel so simultaneously alive and asleep, and you could swear you can feel the air buzzing in your ears. You simultaneously want to go to bed and to stay awake for the rest of the night, it’s like your mind can’t figure out what it needs.

And then Jamie’s walking over to you and the world comes back into focus.

The two of you aren’t very close, connected mostly through your separate friendships with Keeley, but from what you’ve heard from her and from the internet, he seems to be turning over a new leaf. Though, there was a part of you that enjoyed his bad boy attitude, even when he was a bit of a dick.

Maybe you just had a thing for men who were emotionally unavailable.

“Want me to walk you home?” Jamie says after a few seconds of standing next to each other in silence, shocking you out of your silent appraisal of your surroundings.

“Huh?” Clearly, your brain-mouth connection is taking a while to get up to speed.

“You seem kinda out of it, I know you came with Keeley, figured I should ask if you wanted to leave.”

The kindness of his offer is a little shocking in the way it’s so purely sweet, and again, your brain seems a little slow on the draw.

“I’m alright, I can call a car in a bit,” you tell him, not wanting to drag him away from a fun night just because he saw you acting all mopey and uncomfortable.

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t mind getting outta here,” and then it’s clear to you that his offer is simply an excuse for him to leave the party, and while your heart drops a little you can’t say you blame him.

“What the hell,” you respond anyway, finishing your drink before you turn to follow Jamie out of the party, stopping by Keeley to let her know you’re headed home.

The walk back to your place is mostly silent, the air hanging heavy and thick as you try to figure Jamie out. It’s clear that he’s changed from the first time you’d met him, back when he was only Keeley’s douchebag of a boyfriend, shortly before his stint on reality TV. Now, though, he seems different in some way that you can’t quite puzzle out.

“Wanna come up?” You offer, your heart and your brain in a heated argument over how awful and irresponsible of a decision that is.

“Nah, I’m alright,” he sticks his hands in his pockets and you try not to let your heart sink onto the ground with this cool-guy routine of his.

Still, you thank him for taking you home and head up to your apartment, flicking off your shoes and berating yourself for acting the way you did. Even though you’re an adult, and wanting to sleep with someone doesn’t make you a bad person, there’s a layer of guilt that hangs over your simple question, over your desires.

Maybe it’s because he’s Keeley’s ex, and even though she’s moved on and found her perfect match, girl code says you shouldn’t even look at him. Maybe it’s because as far as you know, he’s an awful person who would treat you like nothing. Or maybe it’s because he’s actually worked on himself and you’re going to self-sabotage anything good that could even possibly happen.

The guilt you taste at the back of your mouth doesn’t change the fact that you want him, though, so you throw a longing glance out your window and are surprised to see Jamie still standing on the street below. As quick as you can in your old building, you unlatch the window and push it open, sticking your head out.

“Change your mind?” You ask, a grin spreading on your face when Jamie jumps at the sound of your voice.

“That ok?” He throws back, looking a little bashful and so unfairly adorable that he makes you a little dizzy. You just nod in response, and he seems to get the message because he disappears from view and a few seconds later, there’s a knock at your door.

Briefly, you wonder if he ran up the stairs.

There’s a part of your brain that keeps screaming about how this is a bad idea, that come morning you’re going to regret this, but you do your best to ignore it as you close the door behind Jamie and press your lips to his. His hands find your waist, settling there with a firm grasp, and you hope you never need oxygen again.

It’s addicting, the way he touches you, the way he kisses you, and you do your best to ignore the alarm bells ringing in your mind that you’re never going to be able to move on from this and instead just enjoy yourself. Moving on autopilot, you find yourself at your bedroom door, and feeling lightheaded you pull away from Jamie and rest your forehead on his.

“Can I?” He breathes against your mouth, fingers grasping the bottom hem of your shirt. You nod enthusiastically, your nose brushing against his. Once your shirt is flung somewhere into the depths of your room, Jamie’s hands settle on your bare ribs.

Pushing every worry you have to the back of your brain, you follow Jamie’s lead and, with his help, pull his shirt over his head as he walks you back towards your bed. Obviously, you’d known he was fit, but seeing him so close, so open to your touch is a whole other feeling. You want to trace his entire body, his scars and bruises and tattoos, first with your hands and then with your mouth.

“This is just a one time thing, yeah?” Jamie asks as your hands settle onto his jaw, trying to bring him in for another kiss.

“Yeah, of course,” you respond, being the cool girl you know you’re meant to be even as you fantasize about hearing the stories behind his tattoos and spending mornings together.

It’s practically impossible for you to keep your hands off of him, every layer removed giving you more of his skin to explore. Jamie, though, seems just as greedy as you are, kissing and touching his way across your body. You feel alive, electric in ways you’ve never felt before. It’s as if every moment you spend with Jamie, he takes up more and more space in your brain, until he’s all you can think about.

Jamie, as he bites that sensitive spot underneath your jaw bone with a grin.

Jamie, as he trails kisses down the center of your body, from your sternum to your belly button.

Jamie, as he moves lower and lower, his hands resting on your inner thighs.

Jamie, he’s all you think about until you can’t think of anything, your mind shut off and your body rewired as you feel like you’re exploding from the inside out.

And then everything comes rushing back in, all the sounds and scents and feelings of your apartment, all the thoughts you’d tried to keep away. You still haven’t said anything, focusing on breathing and not floating away.

“You need water or something?” Jamie asks from his spot on the pillow next to you, watching as your breath continues to heave in and out of your chest.

“This is my place, shouldn’t I be asking you that?” You retort once it feels as if your heart won’t escape your chest.

“There aren’t any rules about who gets water.” You watch as a smirk grows across his face, “Besides, you look like you need it more than me.”

Trying not to give in to his teasing, you hide your face in your hands and groan, “Maybe that means you should have been trying harder.” He shrugs, conceding before he slips off your bed and begins the hunt around for his clothes. You wish you could ask him to stay, even just for a few minutes longer, but instead you shrug on a large t-shirt and walk him to the door.

“See you around,” you offer as you lean in the doorway, Jamie making his way to the stairs.

“Yeah, sure, see ya.” And then you're left all alone again, your brain running wild within your skull, so you make your way back to your bed in the hopes that you can fall asleep and pretend you aren’t regretting all of your life decisions.

The next few times you see Jamie, the two of you talk sparingly, sticking mainly to waves across the room or slightly uncomfortable smiles. And it’s a shame, because you’ve found that you actually enjoy talking to Jamie, but now you’re not so certain you can handle yourself around him.

Even though you know Jamie’s not looking for a relationship, it’s hard not to think about what you’d be like together, if you’d even work out, because in your mind, what’s the point of trying if you know you’re going to fail? Why would you enter into a relationship with someone if you know it couldn’t possibly last?

“Hey,” a voice says from behind, shocking you out of your introspection. You jump, ready to scold whoever snuck up on you when you hear Jamie’s laughter, happy and loose.

“Jesus, Jamie, you scared me to death,” you tell him as his laughter dies down, eyes scanning for anyone watching your interactions. You know that no one cares, that people have casual relationships all the time, but you can’t help but feel like you’d be judged for doing the same.

“You wanna get out of here?” He asks, and you can tell from his voice, from his eyes, from the way he’s holding himself, what he’s really asking you.

“I thought that was a one time thing?” You hide your smile by taking a sip of your drink and delighting in the way Jamie’s cheeks redden.

“What I meant was, it’s just a no-strings-attached thing.”

“I’m flattered,” you tell him, already turning to leave and planning your text to Keeley that you hadn’t felt well and called an Uber to leave early.

Instead of an Uber, though, you find yourself pressed up against Jamie’s car, his hands holding your waist and his tongue down your throat. As much as you loved the attention, you pulled away, placing a gentle hand on his cheek when he tried to follow.

“Someone could see,” you whisper against him, trying to keep an ear out for anyone else leaving the small party at Colin’s house. This seems to bring Jamie back to his senses, though, because he unlocks his car and slips inside, but only after he kisses you one last time.

The drive to his place is short, leaving the two of you sitting in his driveway, no sounds but the noises filtering in through the cracked windows. There’s something about this, about him, that just feels like summer, like late sleepless nights and days spent in bed.

Even though neither of you have spoken about it, you can tell that whatever relationship you have with Jamie ends with the summer. You know this is for the best, knowing that once training and games pick up again he’ll barely have time for friends, let alone any other kind of relationship, but you hate the feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop. It feels like there’s an expiration date, some dark cloud looming over your sunny day, and it’s making it hard to enjoy the time you do have with Jamie.

You’d never say any of this to him, though, because you’re not even sure if you’re really friends, if this relationship you have is anything beyond physical. It’s not as though you sit around pining after Jamie Tartt all day, but you can’t help but feel left out whenever you see him with his actual friends, as if you’re missing something important about him. The two of you have a surface level connection, and you’re fine with that, you really are, it’s just hard not to get caught up in your own head.

Jamie, though, is doing his best to get rid of seemingly every thought you have, leaning over the center console to kiss you again. It’s cramped and a little awkward and you don’t have any room to move around, but you can’t stop. Eventually, the two of you break apart for long enough to stumble into Jamie’s house and then you’re being pushed backwards to his bedroom.

The realization hits you that this is the first time you’ve ever been to Jamie’s house, and you can’t help but look around his bedroom, taking in all of his choices in decorations and knick-knacks.

“That’s a pretty color,” you say absentmindedly, starting off into his room.

“I’m sorry, am I boring you?” Jamie asks, pulling back from where he’d been sucking a mark onto your chest.

You can’t help but laugh, loud and unrestrained, as you run your fingers through the strands of hair hanging in Jamie’s eyes, giving them a gentle tug. Looking down after you catch your breath, you notice Jamie smiling at you and suddenly you feel too exposed, too open and you want to turn and run and never see him again but instead you use your light grip on his hair to pull him up for a kiss.

There’s a strange feeling deep in your stomach, one that you plan to ignore for as long as you can because it’s distracting you from Jamie. At first, you’d just thought it was the want filling your body, the urge to pull him impossibly close and feel him impossibly deep, but the feeling’s still there hours later as you lie boneless and sleepy.

Jamie’s off getting you some water, even though you never asked for any, and when he returns you’re dozing on his pillow, resisting the urge to snuggle under his sheets.

“You can just stay here tonight, if you want,” Jamie offers, sitting on the other side of the bed and staring off into space before quietly adding, “I wouldn’t mind.”

“Your bed is pretty comfortable,” you reply, thankful that you don’t have to get up and go searching for your clothes.

Instead, Jamie hands you the glass of water and a t-shirt, one that you gratefully slip on before getting under the covers. You fall asleep almost immediately, exhaustion spread throughout your entire body and mind, so you never know that Jamie lies awake almost the whole night, staring at the ceiling and trying not to wake you up or think about how perfect you look while asleep next to him.

When you do wake up, it’s with the sun streaming through the windows and Jamie’s arm slung over your waist. The two of you are impossibly close, both sharing the same pillow despite the size of his bed. It pains you to notice that he’s incredibly adorable when he’s sleeping. Part of you wants to kiss him all over and wake him, but the other just wants to let him sleep forever, watching as he breathes.

Luckily, you don’t need to make that choice, as Jamie’s eyes flutter open and you can see when he realizes just how close the two of you are and he tries to play it smooth but he scoots back to the side he fell asleep on.

“Did you sleep alright?” He asks, and you’re more focused on the scratchy way his voice sounds than the actual question. You just nod, hoping that was the right answer and delighting when he smiles, all soft and sweet and just for you.

You need to leave, get out while you still can before you end up spending the whole day with Jamie, because you know if you stay for a second longer you’re never going to want to leave him. Most of your time together was spent sleeping, but it's already almost impossibly hard to leave him. While you still have your resolve, you slip out of his insanely comfortable bed and go hunting for your clothes. It kills you a little inside when Jamie doesn’t stop you.

“Want me to drive you?” He asks, sitting up and moving to get out of bed and you need to stop yourself from staring at his toned chest, at the shorts low on his hips.

“No, I can just walk, it’s a nice day,” you lie, having no idea what the weather was like but hoping that summer wouldn’t let you down. Jamie nods, settles back into bed, and you could swear your heart physically aches because none of this should be happening.

You shouldn’t even be here in the first place, but here you are not wanting to leave. You shouldn’t be staring at him, with his mussed hair and his tattoos on full display. You shouldn’t have any feelings for him besides physical attraction and the basic feelings of friendship, but you’re starting to worry about that feeling in your belly that just grows and grows every second you spend with Jamie.

“See you around,” you tell him, leaving as quickly as you can before you convince yourself to stay any longer. You wander around London, all turned around and trying to find your flat without thinking of Jamie, while Jamie sits at home and tries not to think of you.

The rest of your day is spent doing meaningless activities, chores and work you’d been putting off for weeks. You wash your sheets and clean your fridge and respond to emails, trying your hardest to keep your mind off Jamie. It’s impossible, and the second you find yourself distracted, your mind wanders right back to him. What you really need is to leave your house, find someplace with blasting music and bodies pressed impossibly close, somewhere that you’ll have no space to think of anything, let alone Jamie.

Lucky for you, Keeley stays busy, always having one event or another she needs to go to and she always lets you tag along. Tonight your mission is to stop thinking of Jamie, even if that doesn’t mean going home with someone else. Just for a few hours, you don’t need him consuming your every thought.

Unfortunately for you, Jamie is always welcome with Keeley and has the same exact plan as you.

The air inside the bar is stifling, as if there’s no air conditioning and no windows, just the thick summer heat. You notice Jamie almost immediately, though it would be impossible not to with his highlights and his beaming smile, like your own personal sun. As much as you try to fight it, you can’t help but wonder if he noticed you at all, if he thinks of you at all when you’re not together.

You’re two drinks deep and you can’t help but think about Jamie, about what he thinks of you. Are you really just someone to fuck, someone who’s attractive enough for him to sleep with you whenever he feels the urge?

You’re three drinks deep and you can’t help but wonder if you could ever be anything more to him, if he’d ever want that. It’s common knowledge that Jamie’s still a little hooked on Keeley, and who could blame him, but are you really just a distraction?

You’re four drinks deep and you can’t stop crying, the tears flowing like rivers as Keeley and Rebecca try their best to comfort you, to calm you down. Eventually, Rebecca calls you a car and Keeley waits with you, ready to leave and make sure you get home safely.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I promise,” you say through your sobs as you sit in the backseat on your way to your apartment, Keeley rubbing up and down your arms in a soothing manner.

“This isn’t about Jamie, is it?” She asks in that kind, understanding voice of hers and it only makes you cry harder.

“I think I love him and it fucking sucks.” Keeley’s hand moves to smooth over your hair as you lean against her, all the fight draining out of your body.

“Babe, just tell him.” You can’t help but shoot her a glare, one that she brushes off with a laugh, “What’s the worst that could happen? He won’t sleep with you anymore?”

Your mouth drops open, shocked to your core that Keeley knew about what the two of you had been doing and your heart breaks a little more because you feel like you’ve just betrayed one of your best friends. Keeley, though, gives you a supportive little squeeze, one that tells you that she isn’t mad at all.

That was one of your favorite things about Keeley, how supportive she is of all of the people she loves, no matter the situation. She’s wise beyond her years and is the kind of person who will go out and get whatever she wants through her own hard work and determination. Keeley is absolutely someone you need on your side, and it hits you just how thankful you are for her and all she does for you.

Here you are, sobbing over a boy, and Keeley does nothing but support you and try to help you calm down. She doesn’t look at you like you’re over-dramatic or crazy and instead is doing her best to fix whatever was making you feel this way.

“Clearly, this whole situation-ship is hurting you, and if he doesn’t want the same things as you, maybe it’s time to let it end,” she finishes with another loving squeeze, just as the car pulls up outside of your building.

The two of you slide out of the car, Keeley offering you her hand as she helps you up to your apartment and you’re left reeling by what she’s said. You didn’t even know you wanted something more until it hit you like a ton of bricks tonight, Jamie consuming your thoughts in all the wrong ways. You know Keeley’s right, that whatever you have going on is only going to hurt you in the long run, so you resolve to tell him everything the next time you see him.

Keeley’s wise words from the car and the glass of water she gave you before she left after confirming no less than ten times that you were okay have you sobering up rather quickly. You’re left feeling embarrassed and exhausted to the bone, wanting nothing more than to lay down in your bed and stay there for the next hundred years, but suddenly there’s a knock at your door and Jamie’s standing outside.

“Keeley let me in, hope that’s ok,” he tells you, seeming slightly uncomfortable and you briefly wonder if it’s because of your puffy eyes and slightly disheveled appearance, embarrassment coursing hot through your blood. “Just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Jamie always keeps you on your toes, and though you know this isn’t a big deal, it warms your heart all the same. Jamie Tartt, drama queen footballer and prick reality star, is at your front door to see if you’re ok because you left a bar crying. You’d promised yourself that the next time you saw Jamie, you’d sit him down and talk about your feelings, vowing that you wouldn’t hide them anymore.

But here Jamie is, being all sweet and concerned, and that plan goes out the window. There’s just something about him that makes all the sense leave your body, so instead of having a conversation about your feelings you pull him down by his shoulders and kiss him.

It’s messy and desperate, and even though you’ve sobered up since leaving the bar, your head is spinning and your thoughts are starting to become consumed with Jamie. There’s a weight behind it this time, one that you’re sure the both of you are aware of, because Jamie’s hands are gripping your waist with a bruising force and you barely even pull away from him to breathe.

Both of you know something is going to change.

As you make your way to your bedroom, clothing is thrown down the hallway, a sock here and a shoe there, until you almost trip trying to remove your pants. Luckily for you, though, after what seemed like a miles long walk, you finally reached your bedroom door.

Jamie pushes you gently inside, breaking the kiss but staying close enough to breathe the same air, and he keeps pushing you back until the back of your knees hit the bed and you fall onto it with a sound of surprise. Jamie just smiles, but it’s soft in a way that makes your insides melt and not the cocky smile he has whenever he scores a goal.

You scramble to sit up, to take your shirt off, but your brain shuts off when you see Jamie get on his knees in front of you. More gently than you ever could have imagined, he tugs on the hem of your pants, bringing them down your hips until you need to push off of the bed to get them down the rest of the way. He continues to pull until they slip free of your feet, and by the time he’s standing again you’re throwing yourself upward to kiss him.

There’s just something about him that makes you want to be near him all the time, like a moth to the flame. It doesn’t feel self destructive though, and that’s what scares you. It scares you that you might be hurting yourself without knowing but it scares you more that this might not hurt you at all.

It’s always a little shocking to you just how gentle Jamie is, the soft way he cradles your jaw when he kisses you and the way he runs his hands up and down your back when he can tell everything is starting to get overwhelming. Of course, he can be plenty rough and you have the bite marks on your thighs and the hickeys on your chest to prove it, but it seems like it’s in his nature to be soft with you.

“You sure you wanna do this?” He asks, fingers playing gentling with the hem of your shirt.

“100%,” you reply, and give him a quick kiss to reaffirm your statement. Now, he wastes no time in pulling off your shirt and starting to remove his own clothes. It makes you pause, standing there by the foot of your bed in the process of removing your bra, because suddenly he’s shirtless and it never gets any less surprising despite the many times you’ve been in this situation.

It’s not like your being subtle in your ogling, and Jamie just smirks when he sees you staring. He pushes you back onto the bed, softer this time, and you scoot yourself backwards until your head is resting on the pillows. Jamie joins you, pushing your legs open wider so there's room for him to lay in between them.

Then, you’re almost certain you’ve died and gone to heaven because he’s slipping his fingers into the waistband of your panties and tugging them over your hips and down your thighs. You’re absolutely no help, lying there pliant for him to maneuver however he sees fit because you’re fully convinced your brain has stopped working.

It’s a little startling, how well Jamie knows your body. He always knows the right pressure and movement and location to make you see stars, make your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth drop open. You’d think that he’d be all bark and no bite, but it’s so clear to you now that he has the skills to back up his attitude.

You have the bite marks to prove it.

Your fingers are itching for something to grab onto, something more substantial than grasping at your bedsheets, so you gently twist Jamie’s hair around your fingers, just enough to ground you, to keep you anchored to your body when you feel like you’re seconds from floating away.

It feels too good, too overwhelming, you’re unable to control any of the sounds that come out of your mouth. Jamie’s hands are gripping, digging into the flesh of your thighs and it stings where his fingernails dig in but it’s so perfect you can’t help the way you whine.

The connection between your brain and your mouth must be severed because you keep babbling away about how good, how perfect everything feels. You’re not thinking at all, only able to focus on the feelings building deep in your belly until Jamie licks at your clit with the perfect amount of pressure and you just fucking lose it. Your mouth drops open and you’re completely unaware of the sounds that come pouring out of your mouth until, “I fucking love you.”

It’s like you’ve been doused in a bucket of ice water and Jamie’s pulling away and you’re fucking terrified and the pleasure that’s been building inside your body is completely replaced with dread. After you feel Jamie pulling back, you turn your gaze from the ceiling down to between your legs where Jamie still lies.

He just grins, looking like sin himself with your slick making his mouth all shiny and glossy. And then he gets right back to work, nipping at your inner thigh before doubling down his attention, working twice as hard and you don’t even remember what you’ve said because you’re thrown headfirst back into the intensity of Jamie’s full skill and attention.

It’s only seconds later when you’re almost certain that you’ve died, feeling like an exploding star as your back arches off the bed and you dig your fingers harder into Jamie’s hair and your mouth falls open again. When you regain your sense of existence, your body feels tingly all over as if the remnants of your orgasm are still coursing through your veins.

Breathing hard, you look down to see Jamie resting his head on one of your thighs, just waiting for you to come down from your high. He places a kiss over one of the marks he made on your inner thigh before he crawls up the bed to plant a soft kiss on your lips.

He disappears after that, and you’re a little worried that he’s left you like this before he comes back a few minutes later, with a glass of water and a plate of snacks. The thought of him trifling through your cupboard makes your heart stutter a little and you’re so overwhelmed with feelings that you can only manage to give him a small smile in thanks.

The two of you sit quietly side by side on your bed, eating the snacks Jamie had brought. He checks in on you again and again, making sure you’re totally comfortable. And then, he clears his throat and shifts around, looking uncomfortable and you can feel your heart rising into your throat, dread gripping at your stomach.

“Are we gonna talk about what you said?” He asks, tracing shapes on the bare skin of your knee as he talks and looks anywhere but your face.

“I think I meant it,” you tell him, feeling as if your whole world is crashing down around you. There are other important things in your life, work and friends and family, but there’s something about Jamie that even after the limited time you’ve had together, the thought of losing him makes you sick to your stomach.

“Good, that’s good to know.” He goes quiet for a moment but his fingers never still in their drawing, “I think so too.”

“Good,” you tell him with a smile, one that he returns and it makes you want to cry because he’s so gorgeous and wonderful and you won’t be losing him after all, there’s a hope for you, a future, and that’s all you need.

You know nothing is certain and there are plenty of things that could go wrong, but you try to bask in the afterglow of what’s been confessed the same way you’d lay in the sunshine. You feel warm and happy and you’re determined to hang onto those feelings, to enjoy the time you spend with Jamie instead of worrying that everything will come crashing down.

There’s just something about him, something that makes your worrying come to a pause whenever you’re with him. He brings you an unexpected sort of peace, one that you vow to enjoy now that you’re not worrying when it will disappear, when he’ll disappear. For once, that feeling in your chest isn’t one of anxiety but one that you’re convinced is love.

You love Jamie Tartt, and that thought isn’t as scary as it once was.

Tags: @andr0medafallen @pazvizslasprincess @scaramou @parcelofbread @lightninginab0ttle @curlypeter @maggiecc @percysaidnever

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt fluff #jamie tartt smut #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfiction

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penelopepine · 13 days

Text

Little Purple Stars

Part 1 Part 2

Ghost x FemReader x Soap

Content: Soulmate AU, fluff, no angst

Everyone had a soulmate; whether that connection was platonic or romantic was entirely up to those involved. Some people even had multiple soulmates, like you did, which wasn’t that uncommon. It happens whenever a person turns 20 yrs old. They are suddenly able to draw on themselves, and have the picture appear on the skin of your soulmate.

You had two soulmates; one of them rarely ever drew on themselves, and if they did it was only with a black pen. Usually said drawing would also be a little black heart next to something that you or your other soulmate drew. You’ve always called this soulmate, Moon.

On the other hand soulmate number two, or Sun as you called them, was much more open and was constantly drawing little doodles all over themselves.

Sun and Moon; basic maybe, but you’ve always felt that it fits them perfectly.

It was your third time entering the Olympics and you couldn’t be more excited. You’re first year you unfortunately didn’t place, second year you won the bronze, and this year you were aiming for the gold. Most of all though, win or lose you hoped that by the end of today you will have made contact with your soulmates.

While getting ready for today you had drawn little stars in various shades of purple around your eyes, making them resemble freckles. Drawing on your face was generally frowned upon, but when events that are going to be televised all around the world exceptions are made.

You tried to give them a hint to watch the Olympics today by drawing the Olympics rings and a TV, but realistically you knew there was no way they could watch the entirety of the broadcast. Even if they did turn it on they could very easily miss your appearance. The only thing you could do now was hope that the two individuals with matching purple stars were watching.

Ghost watched as every little star slowly appeared on Soap's face knowing that his face looked the same only that the stars on his face were covered by the mask. It wasn’t until Gaz walked in the office as well and asked about them did Soap even know they were there.

“What do you mean I have stars?”

“Yeah on your face,” Gaz pulls out his phone and quickly takes a photo before showing it to the Scot.

“You knew they were there and you weren’t going to say anything?” Soap turns to face Ghost with a playful grin, “Well now you gotta take off the mask; I can’t be the only one walking around here with star freckles.”

“In your dreams MacTavish.”

Gaz chuckles at the two of them before he sits down in an empty seat, “So I know you didn’t do this,” pointing to Soap, “and you definitely didn’t do this. Can I ask why lucky number three decided to do this?” Directing his question towards the lieutenant.

“I assume it has something to do with the Olympics.”

“Aye, they drew that symbol yesterday didn’t they. I guess that was their way of giving us a warning for this; must be for some kind of watch party,” Soap guessed.

“Sounds like my kind of party, the ice skaters are performing in just a bit and I don’t plan to miss it.” Gaz holds his phone showing them the Olympic broadcast already up on his phone before popping in one of his earbuds.

“I didn’t take you for someone who would enjoy watching figure skating; all it is is watching people move on the ice innit?” Ghost questions, he’s never had any interest in the Olympics before. It was never something he had time to sit down and watch.

“We can go to an ice skating rink ourselves, and watch Soap try to skate if you want to watch more chaotic skating.”

“Oi, I didn’t even say anything, don’t go dragging me into this!”

“You were gonna say something and that’s enough for me!”

“Yeah yeah whatever,” Soap turns back to the paperwork he had been working on, “I’d like to see you try and skate. Let’s see who’s laughing then.”

The men chuckle to themselves and all of them focus on items in their hands. It wouldn’t be until an hour had passed that the silence amongst them was broken.

Gaz’s sudden gasp drew both Ghost and Soap’s attention to him.

“What happened mate; a skater fell down?” Ghost asks with slight amusement in his voice. He couldn’t imagine himself getting this worked up over anything as simple as ice skating. Continuing to watch as Gaz doesn’t say anything; simply sitting in his seat with his mouth slightly hung open.

“Gaz?” Soap questions as he steps towards him.

Very suddenly Gaz shoots up and steps towards him as well, grabbing Soap’s face once he is close enough. Holding up his phone and looking frantically between the two.

“Aye, wha’ the fuck do you think you’re doing!” Soap swats Gaz’s hand away from his face, “Didn’t your mum ever teach you about personal space.”

“Look!”

Soap focusing on Gaz’s phone to see what had the man so worked up. On the screen was a woman dressed in purple elegantly dancing on the ice, but what really caught his attention was the fact that she too had purple star freckles on her face; ones that matched his perfectly. “Oh fuck; Ghost!”

Ghost couldn’t believe what he was seeing for a moment. They had finally found their missing piece. Watching her dance and spin on ice he suddenly understood why people would enjoy watching this. She looks ethereal.

Looking at Soap he sees an awestruck look in his eyes. He won’t admit but the stars are quite cute on him; on both of them. How on earth did he end up with these two incredibly beautiful and talented people as his soulmates?

Later all three men are huddled together over the phone watching the award ceremony. The room had gotten embarrassingly loud when it became clear that you had won; Price had charged into the room asking them what had them all yelling for. He had luckily understood when the situation was explained by a sheepish soap, who was definitely making the most noise out of everyone. He was quick to get his energy back though once Price had left the room.

“We have to let the lass know we know we saw her!” Soap rushes to the desk pulling out multi colored pens; waving them towards Ghost.

You had done it! You had really done it; the gold was yours! Standing on the first place podium next to the other medalist you couldn’t help but wonder if your soulmates are watching you. You hope they were proud of you if they had seen your performance.

Trying to subtly check any exposed skin for any kind of sign or acknowledgement that you had been seen, and to your great delight you had been. The sun and moon had found their star.

There on your wrist was a drawing of a gold medal and right next to it was a little black heart.

They had seen you, they knew who you were. That thought both excited and terrified you. The only thing to do now was wait for them to show themselves; to find you.

Stepping down from the podium, and making your way off the ice you give your wrist a kiss and wave towards the cameras.

#simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #soap x reader #ghost x reader x soap #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #x reader #fem reader #soulmates #john soap mctavish x reader

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shankss-magnificent-ass · 7 months

Text

Imagine Shanks teaching you how to use a sword part 2

FYI, in case it wasn't obvious, IDK anything about fencing, or swords fighting other than the point bit goes in the other feller.

Shanks: Can I offer you a piece of advice?

You: Sure.

Shanks: I think you'd benefit from widening your stance, it'd enable you to move around easier, especially since you like to use your weight to throw your opponent off balance.

You: Like this? *Shifts your feet apart*

Shanks: No, like this *grabs your hip, and kicks your legs further apart* Now try a few moves.

You: *tries to focus on your sword, but can't because he's kneading your skin*

Shanks: No, no, you're far too stiff * Pulls you against his chest, leaning over you slightly to guide your hands in a fluid motion* See, you keep locking up your elbows at the wrong time.

You: Okay, so like this? *Steps away from him and goes through the motions*

Shanks: Perfect, *Ruffles your hair* wanna try it against me?

You: *Has to deliver a message to Whitebeard* Alright, that's the message, I'll skedaddle now.

Whitebeard: Is that what you think? That I'll let you go, just like that?

You: *nods with confidence* Yep, just like that.

Whitebeard: Gurararara! No, but I'm glad to see Shanks sent me such an interesting crewmate. *Reaches for you*

You: *pulls your sword* Don't touch me!

Whitebeard: Oh, you think you can take me, little one?

You: Seeing as I just started learning two weeks ago, and I've never seen real combat? No.

Whitebeard: Gurararara!, then you're not a threat at all.

You: No. *lowers your sword* But I really don't like being touched by people I don't know.

Whitebeard: That's fair and fine... Who's been teaching you then?

You: Shanks.

Whitebeard: Shanks really? He's never taken a student before.

You: He says I've got natural talent, but I believe he was just trying to be nice.... or get into my pants, I can't tell.

Marco: It's always a bit hard to tell with him.

You: tell me about it, one minute he's grabbing my hips and the next he's ruffling my hair and treating me like a kid. It's very confusing.

Marco: He's the King of mixed signals.

You: Tell me about it.

Whitebeard: Listen, I'm bored and itching for a good fight, so I'm going to hold you here to draw Shanks here. But while you are here how about my boys and I give you a few lessons and help you with your training.

You: Do I have a choice?

Whitebeard: uh-uh

You: fine then, but I want a room to myself.

Whitebeard: I'll have a guest room prepared for you, but let's figure out your skill level in the meantime?

You: uh, sure I guess.

Whitebeard: Ace, get em

Ace: *Jumps at you with his swords from one of the sail yards*

You: *shrieks like a lunatic as you evade his rapid attacks*

Whitebeard: Good good, you're really light on your feet for a rookie.... st-... Stop running away and fight!

List of Up-and-coming works

Support me on Kofi and Patreon

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #shanks #shanks x reader #akagami no shanks #red hair shanks #red haired shanks #whitebeard #edward newgate #portgas d ace #marco the phoenix #marco the pineapple #whitebeard pirates #from the depths of the dragon's hoard #tma original #9/17/23 #no beta we die like men

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seospicybin · 4 months

Text

REWIND.

PART II

Hyunjin x reader x Seungmin. (s,a)

Chapters: Part I

Synopsis: As a part of a research team that works on a memory-erasing machine, you work alongside the professor whom you greatly admire and a computer geek who relentlessly flirts with you. But the one that you want is the one that you can't have. (10,1k words)

Author's note: Happy reading! Let me know what you think of this fic after :)

Hyunjin almost slips as he runs in his socks and when he returns to the staff lounge, he finds you lying on your stomach on the sofa.

He can see the shape of your body basked in the faint moonlight that shines through the floor-to-ceiling window like a beautiful nymph out of Greek mythology.

He loses track of time just standing there, staring at you with admiration pooling in his eyes. He would have mistaken you for a marble statue if you weren't moving, propping a hand under your head, and turning your head his way.

"Are we going to use that condom or what?"

This is what he's been waiting for but he wouldn't mind if you changed your mind, he would love to just lie next to you and stare at your face all night.

But Hyunjin simply can't resist feeling the softness of your skin under his fingertips and the way you whimper under the faintest of his touch. Oh, he's in too deep!

"I'm afraid you have to make me wet again," you playfully say as you lay back on the sofa facing up.

"That wouldn't be a problem," he says, planting his mouth on your stomach and blowing air on it.

You laugh at how tickling it is and put your hand over your head, "My dad used to do that when I was a kid. Oh no, you make me think of my dad," you croon.

It's a good thing that Hyunjin knows how to take your mind off things, he puts his mouth on your cunt and wets it with his slick tongue.

Your hand reaches for his head and you pull him, making him hover above you so you can kiss him. He can feel you licking your essence off his lips then mix it all up in a deep kiss.

You spread your legs open and wrap them around his dainty waist, drawing him closer and closer until there's not even an inch left between your bodies.

Before Hyunjin forgets, he reluctantly breaks the kiss and props his elbow against the sofa.

"Wait a minute," he says.

"You make me wait again," you complain with an adorable pout.

He softly laughs then rips the foil packet with his teeth and carefully takes the rubber out.

"Need my help?" You offer with a soft scratch on his head.

Hyunjin doesn't answer but sits on the sofa, putting all of his focus on rolling the rubber down his length and pinching the end to make a little space.

He settles himself between your legs as you put them on each side of his waist. He doesn't hesitate to insert his fingers inside you again, feeling you clenching as he curls them inside

"Fuck..." he lowly hisses.

He pulls his fingers out only to see they're coated with your essence, he puts them in his mouth next, licking them clean.

"Do you think you can take me?" He asks with a hand that runs down the valley of your breasts.

You're slyly smiling and nodding at his words with a finger tugged between your teeth.

He uses the tip of his cock to tease your clit, "But you're so little," he says.

You prop your elbows against the sofa and reach for his cock, repeatedly rubbing it down your folds to lubricate it with your wetness, then slowly, you push it inside you.

You lean back down as you calmly mutter, "You can do the rest."

It's only the tip but Hyunjin already feels like he's about to lose it. He grips your thighs as he slides in the remaining length, little by little with his eyes intently watching his cock disappear into you.

"Oh, my God! Yes..." you breathlessly moan.

He glances up and sees you touching yourself with your eyes closed, seeing you enjoying yourself reminds him that he should be enjoying it too.

Don't think too much, he reminds himself.

He pushes in until his cock is buried inside your tight, warm walls. He has to take a moment just to try to calm down. He lets his body hover above you with a hand propped next to your head to not put his whole weight on you. He can't seem to gain any of his senses back.

Suddenly, he feels a finger pressing on his forehead, then he hears your laugh.

"You have this crease on your forehead," you tell him, dropping your hands around his neck to pull him close.

He lets out a shy laugh and hides his head in your neck, "It's just— you just feel so good," he mutters.

The two of you stay like that for a moment until Hyunjin is sure that he has some self-control in him to continue. He looks at you, slowly lowering his mouth on yours as he starts moving his hips.

It's not the first sex he's having but it's the first time Hyunjin doesn't think about his own pleasure. He wants to make you feel good, more importantly, he wants to make this special.

His thrusts are slow and steady yet they're enough to make you a moaning mess under him. You're whimpering against his lips, your hands are clawing at his back and your legs are locked around him.

At times, he wants to follow his greed, having all of you at once but he reminds himself that you're not just some girl, you're the girl. You're the girl he likes and adores, you're the girl that he believes is more than just one of his passing fancy.

He knows you've just climaxed for the second time just now from the way your walls tightening around him. He immediately slows down, giving you a moment to relish the immense pleasure.

"I'm cumming," you breathlessly inform a little too late.

"I know" He murmurs, then presses a kiss on your lips.

You eagerly return his kiss with your hand taking a fistful of the hair on the back of his head, a kiss that turns into a slow, sensual making out in the middle of sex.

You gasp for air when you let go of the kiss with your eyes still closed and he uses the opportunity to remove the strands of hair covering your face, putting them to the side and holding them there.

"You have no idea how long I've been wanting to do that," he mutters with a low sigh.

When you open your eyes, you catch him staring at you and smile, "What? Lose your virginity?"

Hyunjin cracks a laugh and softly caresses your cheek, "Yeah, that."

"Let's switch positions," you say, not waiting for his approval to turn over without pulling out of him.

With you on top of him, Hyunjin can see all of you, the shape of your body against the soft moonlight and the eyes that looking down on him, full of glint, lustful, and alive.

Never in the times he thought of you, you would be on top of him and slowly rocking your hips back and forth, feeling his full length inside you.

"Oh..." His moan is quivering.

You maliciously smile knowing what you're doing to him and now, rolling your hips in slow, circular motions.

Hyunjin's hand immediately grips your waist to stop you because he knows if you keep doing it, he won't last long.

"Give me a moment," he tells you with a suppressed grunt.

You take the hand resting on your waist, exploring your body with it, and let him feel you. You run his hand down your chest and cup your breast, letting him knead on it.

You let your hand and let his hand continue its exploration while you lowly moan as he caresses your body with his knuckle.

"Gosh, you're so beautiful," he sighs in disbelief.

Hyunjin can't wrap his head around the fact that not only he can see it, but he can touch and feel it too. He brings his hand to your face and sighs again, "So beautiful."

You lay your hands on his chest and hover above him as he asks, "Let's continue, mmh?"

Not sure if that was a rhetorical question but Hyunjin can only prepare himself for what's coming. You move at a steady pace, making him drown in pleasure and he feels the need to do the same so he uses his thumb to gently circling on your clit.

You keep clenching and unclenching around him and it does nothing but give him the utmost pleasure, he can feel that his release is only a minute away. You pause for a second to plant both of your feet on the sofa to give him more depth and ultimately, more pleasure.

Hyunjin isn't ready for it but seeing the way his cock slips in and out of you is hypnotic, he can't seem to do anything but let the pleasure pull him under.

He blanks out for a moment as waves of pleasure wash over him and finds himself overwhelmed, running out of breath.

You kiss his open mouth and giggle, "Are you okay?"

Can't believe how you casually asked him that when you've just made him cum and it's the best one he ever had. Maybe it's the sex, maybe you're too good at it but he believes it's because he's doing it with you.

He roughly brushes his hair to the back and sighs, "Fuck... That was so good."

Even though he's still catching his breath, he puts his arms around you and draws you close, pulling you for another kiss. He breaks the kiss but keeps your head close to him.

"I can tick it off of my bucket list now," he playfully says, sending you collapsing on top of him, laughing.

Hyunjin comes back from the bathroom to find you in the pantry dressed in his sweater with your black tights on. He sees you taking the leftover pizza out of the microwave and start munching on it.

He sits on the stool and takes the other slice of pizza from the plate, then tilts his head to the side, watching you eating as he takes a bite of his pizza.

Aware of the stare, you're smiling as you chew on your food. You turn away to grab a new can of soda from the fridge and pop it open.

"Now that you've had sex with me, you can stop pestering me," you tell him.

Hyunjin takes the can of soda from your hand and takes a sip, "What if I want to keep clinging to you?"

"Just go..." you grumble, taking your canned soda back from his hand, "like... date someone your age."

Hyunjin hates it whenever you bring it up, not only about it but the way you make it sound like he's a snotty 12-year-old boy. He drops his half-eaten pizza on the plate and leans forward on the counter.

"That's a lame excuse," he says in disagreement.

"What?"

"The age gap thing," he replies.

He stacks his hands on the counter and looks at you, "I'm of age, you're of age," he points out the only fact that matters here.

Hyunjin snatches the can of soda from you again, "I'm hot, you're hot," he lays out another common thing you both shared.

You giggle at that and wipe your hand on a napkin.

"And the sex was great," Hyunjin adds with a lopsided grin.

You raise an eyebrow at him, doubting his remark.

"I know you liked it," he confidently says, finishing the can of soda oda and wiping his mouth after.

He gets off his stool to get another can of soda from the fridge and leans against it as he opens it, "And you obviously know I like you," he lists another one.

Hyunjin calmly sips his drink before coming up to you, standing right close to you as he makes a conclusion out of the list of things that are true between you and him.

"And despite that, I keep annoying you, I know you like me too," he makes a bold statement, ignoring his heart that is pitter-pattering inside him.

The fact that you have nothing to say to that only means it's also true. Despite the way you act annoyed whenever he flirts or teases you, you like him but sure, yeah, not as much as he likes you.

But you like him.

Hyunjin rests his elbow against the counter and looks at you, his eyes crinkling under the fluorescent lights.

"So tell me," he says, "What stopping us from dating each other?"

It's your turn to steal his soda now, taking a long gulp with your eyes locked in a gaze with him. He senses that you have the answer but is reluctant to say it to him and you don't have to, he knows enough from working with you for a few months now.

Hyunjin thinks he knows the reason why.

"My sweater looks good on you," he compliments.

He gets on his feet to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around you, not wanting to think, he just wants to kiss you and exist in this moment with you.

So he does, he crashes his lips against yours and kisses you with all of his heart, even though they won't be enough to change your mind.

"But what's underneath is better, of course," he mutters against your lips as he slips his hands under the sweater, fondling your breasts as he continues kissing you.

The sound of the landline phone ringing echoes through the halls and reaches Hyunjin's ear. He groans because he gets interrupted for the second time, not when his hands are busy getting under your sweater.

You abruptly stop kissing him and gasp, "It must be the Professor!"

You gently push him away and dash to your desk, Hyunjin unconsciously following you there, watching you take a deep breath before picking up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Yes, Professor?" You confirm your guess.

"Hyunjin?" You glance at him, signaling that Seungmin asks for him.

He presses his ear close to the phone to hear glimpses of the conversation.

"He didn't pick up the phone because he's in the bathroom," you cover for him.

Fuck. His phone is in his jeans and it's lying around on the sofa in the pantry, that's why he couldn't hear him calling.

"Yes, yes," you nodding along as you speak, "I'll tell him that."

You slowly turn around to face Hyunjin after hanging up the phone, he can see the slight panic on your face.

"What?" He curiously asks.

"He's on his way here," you answer.

"Professor Seungmin?"

You nod.

"Oh, fuck!" Hyunjin curses, feeling a mix of things but mostly in disbelief that he still decides to come when he could have spent the night with the missus.

"We have uh..." you fumble check the time, "like... half an hour?"

Hyunjin refuses to believe that his sweet dream should end this way. He follows you as you walk back to the pantry.

"Okay then... we still have time for another round of sex," he jokes.

"No..." you grumble.

You pick up his jeans and toss them at him, "We have to start cleaning up!"

Hyunjin puts on his jeans and almost trips on them as he does it in a hurry, "What do you want me to do?" He asks.

You're putting on your skirt as you talk, "You do the main lab and he–" you pause to zip your skirt before continuing, "he wants you to send the system status."

He almost malfunctioned looking at you taking off the sweater next, forgetting what he's about to say to you.

"What are you waiting for?" You ask, perplexed.

"Let me just—" he quickly puts on his t-shirt and brushes his hair to the back.

Even after that, Hyunjin stays there and watches you putting on your bra, swiftly clasping the straps together without looking.

"Hyunjin!" You call him while tossing his sweater back at him.

That works to snap him out of it, getting him moving and realizing that he needs to remove any signs of fun around the place.

However, Hyunjin still needs one more thing. He comes up to you and without thinking, presses a long kiss on you. The kiss certainly takes you by surprise that you can only look at him when he pulls away.

"I'm going now," he breaks into a run before you can complain.

When Hyunjin arrives at his desk and encounters a serious problem, he knows that his sweet moment has finally come to an end.

The sheen of sweat is apparent on your forehead, you scoop some water and splash it right onto your face. You fix your hair, tuck your blouse inside your skirt and not forgetting to spray some perfume. You do anything to get rid of any evidence that you’ve just had sex with your co-worker.

You do a final lap and make sure there’s not a single trace of fun that happened in this workplace a while ago and head to the main lab. You spray the place with a can of air freshener to remove the smell of weed that may still cling in the air.

Hyunjin’s head turns in your direction, “We have a problem!”

The last thing you need to hear is there’s a problem and from the look on Hyunjin’s face, you can tell that it’s serious. You sigh and take a stand next to him, “What?”

He types fast on his keyboard and shows you a chart, “He was off the map,” he says.

With your head already filled with worries, you find it hard to focus on it, “What do you mean?”

“He went off the brain map. He was almost erasing the wrong memory,” he explains with his fingers touching his plush lips.

“Almost? That doesn’t mean it happened, right?” you ask with a quivering voice.

“The failsafe… it worked to stop him from going way off and led him back on the map,” he confirms yet he’s not looking so calm about it.

“Then what is the problem?” you meekly ask, knowing that it’s going to be time to dread.

Hyunjin glances at you and pinches his lower lip before speaking, “You know we have to tell Professor about this right?”

“Oh, fuck!” The profanity automatically falls out of your mouth.

Surely, you have the option to not tell him and act like nothing happened but Seungmin would know. He would most likely check it himself and eventually finds out, there’s no way out of this but come clean to him that you both fucked up.

“Oh… fuck…” You meekly curse with your hand massaging your temple.

Now you know how serious it is that your head starts to spin and you get groggy, you blame it on the alcohol and the recreational drug mixed with anxiety, making you suddenly feel sick. If Hyunjin wasn’t there holding your hand, you would have broken down onto the floor.

“It’s okay. We’ll just tell him it happened so quickly that we didn’t notice but the failsafe worked, the procedure is almost done anyway,” Hyunjin resolves, trying to comfort you.

His phone is vibrating on the desk and he goes to check it, reading a text from someone, “Tim said Professor has just come through the gate.”

All of a sudden, you wish you could have smoked that one rolled joint from Hyunjin’s tin can, it would really helped you relax., you run to your desk and put your lab coat on. Seungmin could come any minute now and you check your appearance for one last time, then rummaging inside your bag to put a fresh coat of lipstick and pop two mints into your mouth.

The sounds of the elevator chimes open make your heart drop and you tell yourself that it’s time to put an act. You smack your lips together and turn around on your feet, ready to greet him.

“Good evening, Professor!” You cheerily greet which only makes it seem even more suspicious.

Aware that you’re smiling too enthusiastically, you quickly tone it down a little and clasp your hands together in front of you, letting him know you’re at his service.

As usual, Seungmin avoids looking into your eyes, he swings his briefcase and takes off his coat, putting it down on your desk, “What’s the update?”

Even though you know he’d ask that very question it still catches you off guard, your hands are flailing as you take his briefcase and coat in your hands.

“Uh… they uh… they’re on their ninth and progressing,” you stammer.

Seungmin doesn’t waste time to check it himself, you decide to put his things in his office first and join everyone in the main lab after. You have to go back to retrieve your notebook, in case Seungmin wants you to do something.

As expected, he’s checking everything himself, and from the look of Hyunjin’s face, he told Seungmin about it already.

“I checked everything and nothing else shows up, it’s only that one… I-I’m sorry, Professor, I left for a moment and not…” Hyunjin is babbling, trying to explain himself.

However, Seungmin seems to not hear him, he’s too busy checking everything himself. It would have been great if he scolds any of you but no, he stays quiet with his jaws all clenched and it looks hot on him but gosh, it only makes you more nervous.

Hyunjin throws a glance at you and you take it that he needs you to back him up but the problem is something feels caught in your throat, not allowing you to speak out. You repeatedly gulp air to muster up the courage to open your mouth and

“Hyunjin, I want you to check the log system!” Seungmin orders without looking away from the computer screen.

Hyunjin awkwardly gets up from his chair and scratches his head, “In the server room or…?”

Seungmin turns his head to the side, sharply glancing his way, “As soon as possible,” he says.

Even though Seungmin is not answering his question, Hyunjin immediately scrambles to get his laptop and hugs it close to his chest, “Copy that!”

He heads for the door when Seungmin calls his name again and you exchange a glance with him right before he turns around, “Yes, Professor?”

“Don’t miss out on any details!” Seungmin warns him with an icy glare.

Even if it’s not aimed toward you is already enough to send a shudder down your spine. Feeling bad for not being able to defend Hyunjin, you chase after him as he leaves for the server room in the lower level and grab his elbow, “Hey...”

In response to your sad call, he softly smiles and takes your hand to squeeze it, “I’ll be downstairs. No need to worry,” he says with a playful laugh.

You scoff and reach for the collar of his sweater, fixing it for him, “Okay.”

“Can you tame the beast while I’m away though?” he jokingly asks while keeping his voice low, afraid that Seungmin would hear it.

You doubt you can do that but you stifle a nod, “I’ll try.”

One thing you learned from working as his assistant for three years is that when Seungmin is mad, it's better to give him space.

You let him work in the main lab by himself, he'd call for you when he needed you which is a rare thing, and he's doing fine by himself most of the time.

However, you know that you and Hyunjin's recklessness has caused this therefore, you have to try to ease him up and most importantly, apologize.

Watching through the window in the pantry, you see that Seungmin is leaving the main lab and he's most likely going to his office.

You were planning to make a cup of tea for yourself in the hope of helping you sober up but then it seems like a good idea to make one for Seungmin too. who knows a nice cup of tea would help to relax him?

You keep retreating with a tray in your hands, having second thoughts about the tea but you remind yourself that it's not fair that Hyunjin has been taking all the blame himself and you should take responsibility too.

Three knocks on his door and you let yourself in, "I made you a cup of tea, Professor," you quietly mutter, almost inaudible.

You have been looking down at the floor but the absence of his answer makes your eyes wander, he only turns the light on this desk and keeps the rest of the room dark.

Through the faint moonlight that shines through the blinds, you see Seungmin's silhouette, the tall figure and wide shoulders. His hands are busy untying his tie open and pulls it around the collar of his shirt.

You have to actively tell your brain to start talking and not just stand there, staring at him.

"Professor, I'd like to apologize for being so careless and putting the test subject at risk," your throat is so clogged up that you find it hard to say those words.

Seungmin doesn't say anything but gets to the coat hanger, putting his suit jacket on there.

"Why? You're not the one operating the machine," he calmly says.

It's like walking on thin ice, one wrong step and you're done. So you choose your next word carefully or else, you'll be drowning in his icy glares.

"Because I was here when it happened and I should've alerted Hyunjin about it," you tell him, taking over the blame from Hyunjin.

Seungmin's head snaps in your direction yet he remains standing there, rolling the sleeves of his shirt to his elbow.

"Do you understand how important this test is?" He asks, his voice is calm yet sharp.

At this point, you just have to follow his words if you want to make it out alive so you meekly nod, "Yes, Professor."

He then goes around the desk, leaning against the desk, and crosses his arms in front of him, "Do you want me to fail?"

You strongly deny with a head shake, "No, Professor."

You look at him even though you can't see much in this dim light, "I know that I disappointed you but it was never my intention to make you fail," you earnestly tell him.

It's kind of offending that he makes it sound like you tried to sabotage him when in fact, you were neglecting your work to fool around with your colleague but you can't tell him that, right? Well, fuck.

Seungmin suddenly lets out a snarky laugh, "You see, the whole world wants me to fail," he says.

You take a step closer to let him see that you mean every word you say, "I don't want you to fail, Professor. I do."

"And why's that?" He asks, sounding a little weary.

Except for the desk lamp that casts a backlight behind him, it seems like Seungmin finds comfort in the dark that lingers in the room so that he can drop his facade and become a man who simply seeks validation from someone.

"Because you're great, Professor," you reply without wavering.

"Your brilliance is just... I don't think I ever met a man who is not just good but also passionate about his works," your words fell apart in the middle because it's never easy to try to fathom your thoughts into words.

"You're amazing, inspiring..." and you don't care if that sounds phony or cliché, you want him to know that.

It's like your body is attracted to him, your feet unknowingly take you another step closer to him and your hand rests on his arm.

"And if only you could see yourself the way I see you, it'd blow your mind," you tell him.

This time, Seungmin holds the gaze longer than a second and it intensifies into a stare that sees right through you and you let him, you let him see the respect you have for him and your pure admiration.

And it's too late to hide those feelings that stem from all that, so you let him see them too.

You break away the eye contact and fumble to recover, "Professor, I—"

Then he reaches for your face, turning your head to make you look into his eyes again, and weirdly, you feel like you already have a home in them.

The next thing you know, your lips are on his lips and you don't care whoever leaning in first, all you can feel is how warm and welcoming his kiss is, it almost feels like coming home.

However, in the next moment, you realize how wrong this is and abruptly stop kissing him. You immediately retreat until the back of your legs hit the sofa.

"I'm sorry, Professor, that was so..."

Wrong? But that didn't feel wrong, it feels right and if anything, it confirms your feelings are true for him.

"I love you, Professor," you blurt out yet letting them out feels relieving like a ton of weight gets off your chest at once.

"In fact, I've loved you for years now," you continue, ignoring how pathetic you spun saying that.

Then you plop down on the sofa and plant your face in your hands, realizing the damage you've done.

"Oh, my God..." You take a shaky breath through your mouth as tears pooling in your eyes.

"I shouldn't have said that," you mutter with the guilt gathering in the pit of your stomach and making you feel sick inside.

There's no turning back now and all you can do is face the consequences, it means losing the job and losing him forever. You feel pathetic for feeling the saddest for the latter.

Seungmin takes a seat next to you on the sofa and his hand holds your chin, gently turning your head his way. You feel so exposed as he looks at your tears-streaked face and how pathetic you look right now.

And you're ready to hear him saying that the two of you can't do this, that he has a wife and this is wrong but instead, you see fondness in his eyes as he tenderly wipes your tears with his knuckle and puts your hair to the side. He holds your face with both hands like you're a fragile object that needs extra care.

You finally find the reason why he kept avoiding your eyes and that's because he feels the same for you, he gets lost in each other's eyes and knows what it would do when that happens.

It's what happening now and it's getting out of control yet none of your hands are going for the steering wheel, you both let it happen, and you let your lips collide in an explosive kiss.

Seungmin kisses you hard and deep like he's been wanting to do that for a long time. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close and tight like he's never letting go. And... oh, the way a heavy sigh slips out of his mouth between kisses only tells you that he wants it just as much as you.

"Call my name," he suddenly mutters against your lips.

"Profes—"

He then puts his thumb over your lips, stopping you from calling him by his title.

"Call my name," he says again then swipes his thumb across your lips.

"Seungmin..." you breathlessly say.

It's the first time you call him by his first name yet it doesn't feel foreign in your mouth, it's a simple thing yet it brings him a lot closer to you.

He hastily presses a kiss on your lips, then rests his forehead against yours as he says, "Say it again."

You softly smile with your eyes closed and say his name again, "Seungmin..."

Seungmin smiles hearing you calling his name and it's the first smile you've seen on him in a long time, it's nice and endearing, but what makes you happy is knowing that you're the one who made him smile.

Without warning, Seungmin crashes his lips on yours again, harder and deeper. He holds your body closer and tighter, not letting you go, and oh... you don't care that you'll end up in flames, it hurts so good.

It takes him almost an hour to extract data in the server room and he gets used to the constant whirring of the machinery in there.

When Hyunjin gets out of the room, he is greeted by the eerie quiet of the empty building. The elevator is already on stand-by when he pushes the button up, he gets in right away while hugging his laptop close to his chest.

He pushes the floor number on the panel and waits for the doors to close when suddenly, the doors slide open again.

Hyunjin reckons it's the security taking another lap around the building to make—

His eyes widen when he sees that it's the least person he expects to ride an elevator at four in the morning with. He recognizes her from the expensive bag and the towering heels she's wearing when she has no one to impress.

"Mrs. Kim?!" He awkwardly greets, failing to hide the perplexity in his voice.

"Take me to him," she says, keeping her head straight as she speaks.

There's nothing to see here except that she'll find Seungmin working hard in his lab but Hyunjin also can't help himself thinking, what if...

He anxiously picks at the lint on his sweater the whole elevator and hopes that none of you are anywhere near each other.

The second the elevator doors are open, Hyunjin slips out ahead of her and hurriedly guides her toward the main lab.

"Professor has been working hard in the lab. Please, this way," he says, showing her the way as he walks two steps ahead of her.

But of course, Mrs. Kim is not one to fool, she notices that the light in Seungmin's office is on and decides to check it.

"He's not in his office, he's in the main lab observing the test," Hyunjin insists, trying to avert her attention away when he doesn't even know where the two of you are but his instinct tells him that it's right behind that door.

It's too late for Hyunjin to try to stop her somewhere as she pushes the door open, and lets it fly open.

Hyunjin slowly turns his head and sees his fear become reality. Seungmin is lying on top of you on the sofa with your hands all over each other, not just kissing, but passionately making out like two drunk lovers that they're not aware of people watching them.

"Working hard, huh?" Mrs. Kim says at Hyunjin, throwing daggers with her eyes.

It takes Hyunjin a moment to think of what he needs to do, he aggressively knocks on the door to snap both of you out of your lover's daze.

Seungmin breaks the kiss, he lifts his head toward the door and the moment he sees his wife, his eyes instantly dim like day turns to night.

Mrs. Kim stomps her heels against the floor and it's echoing in the hallway, Hyunjin gets out of the way as Seungmin runs out of his office to chase for his wife.

"Wait, wait, wait," Seungmin shouts as he keeps running after his wife to the elevator.

"I knew it, Seungmin," His wife says as she keeps aggressively punching the elevator button.

"I came here to work. This is a... uh..."

Even a genius such as Seungmin can be at a loss for words when he gets caught in this situation, Hyunjin reckons.

You come out of the office not long after with your hair disheveled and your eyes red like you've been crying, "Mrs. Kim, I'm so sorry, it's my fault, I kissed him first, I..." you run out of breath as you talk fit every word into one sentence.

Mrs. Kim walks past Seungmin and comes at you but maintain a safe space. She looks at you with disgust in her eyes and it goes on for a few seconds until she stops staring and claps her purse in front of her.

"You can have him," she says to you.

That gets you confused, and you blink your eyes unable to respond to that, "But Mrs. Kim... It wasn't my intention. I'm just a stupid girl with a stupid crush, I—"

"YOU ALREADY DID!" She raises her voice at you, making you smaller than her as you shrivel in front of her.

Seungmin grabs her by the elbow but that's not enough to stop her, at least, she calms down as she lets out a heavy sigh.

"You already did once and now you fucking did it again," she may have lowered her voice but it stings a lot more than the previous.

"Wh–What do you mean?" You ask her in genuine confusion while raking your hair to the back.

Mrs. Kim glances at Seungmin, hinting that it's his turn to speak, "Fucking tell her!" She says to him, yanking her hand away from him and entering the elevator.

Hyunjin is caught between you and Seungmin now, the tension is suffocating him but what is unbearable is seeing you hurt.

"Seungmin?" You meekly call him with your eyes glassy with tears.

"You wanted it," Seungmin says.

"What?" You ask in utter confusion.

"You begged me to do the procedure on you," He gives you the full answer.

You stagger to the back and hold the edge of your desk to steady yourself, "What did I–I do?" You stammer.

Seungmin looks at you then towards the elevator, he puts himself in this position where he has to choose between you and his wife.

"Seungmin," You desperately call his name again as your tears overflow your eyes and roll down your cheeks like waterfalls.

"Please..." you sadly beg.

But Seungmin knows better that you're asking him more than just an answer, you want him to stay, you want him to choose you, not her.

Hyunjin watches as the scene unfolds into a gut-wrenching sight as Seungmin makes a final decision, he goes for the elevator and leaves you here, breaking down all alone.

"Are you... are you okay?" Hyunjin asks as he helps you get up from the floor.

What is okay about this? He chooses her and not you.

No matter how much you expected this, you can't escape the pain of knowing that he left you after what you both shared a while ago.

What is okay about finding out he's been hiding something from you?

You need to know what she meant when she said you already have him once and you get a hunch that it has something to do with the locked files. It's just been there, speaking out to you, telling you to open it.

"Let's get you a glass of water," Hyunjin says, putting his hand on your back to get you to the pantry but you turn away.

You barge into Seungmin's face and search for his access key, you spill out the content of his briefcase for it and find it tucked in his wallet.

Hyunjin is about to enter the office when you run out carrying the access key with you to the main lab. With your eyes blurry with tears, you access the locked file on the computer and scan the access key to unlock it.

There are files, the same ones a test subject took whenever they get chosen for a test and you open the profile to find yourself on it.

Your heart sinks and it's bringing you down with it, you open the file one after another and your name is written all over it as test subject number 3.

Hyunjin takes your hand away from the computer to stop you from digging further into it but he's too late, you have pressed the play button on a video interview of you and you're dressed in a patient gown.

Then a voice asks, "So... tell me what you remember."

SEUNGMIN: So, tell me what you remember.

YOU: [Exhales] We met at a lecture before and I am aware of how important you are, how smart, how respectable you are and I wanted to work with you, and I... I liked you immediately at the job interview.

YOU: A month into the job, I discovered that you're so mature and you're just so... nice. I admire you so much [inhales] I was– I get so tongue-tied around you when all I wanted is for you to think that I am smart [sadly chuckles]

YOU: Oh, Seungmin, I can't do this [sniffles] how can I do this? [Covers face with hands]

SEUNGMIN: It's for the best. You know that.

YOU: Yeah, I know [sniffles]

YOU: [Takes a deep breath] Remember that day when our hands accidentally brushed and we both felt that surge of electricity? You explained that when an atom has protons and electrons in odd numbers, electrons get excited. Then you said... it was you who was excited and in that moment, I just knew, I knew something was going to happen, something wonderful [smiles]

YOU: We took that trip to the beach at midnight and got there when it was time for sunrise, you got mad because I made your slacks drenched in seawater but that day I saw the biggest smile on your face [wipes tears]

YOU: You got this idea that we should live in one of those beach houses so we can watch the sunrise together... [sighs] The next month, you rented one and we went there every Saturday.

YOU: My life only existed every Saturday when I spent the early hours watching the sun rise in your arms in that beach house... [lets out a sob]

YOU: Gosh, we were so happy... we were so happy, Seungmin [sadly smiles]

You can't recall those memories in your head but you feel the ache in your chest, you can feel tears begin clogging your throat and it burns the longer you keep it down.

The interview is 98 minutes long and you're only on the first fifteen minutes, you're clutching at your chest as you hit the fast-forward button to the last five minutes of the video.

YOU: ...said it's for the best, you offer me to get a procedure done because it's the only way we can get past this [sniffles]

SEUNGMIN: It's the only way. No one will get hurt this way.

YOU: [Nods] I know.

You roughly wipe the tears on your cheek with the heels of your hands, then rewind the video a few minutes back to find out the reason that led you to do the procedure with

SEUNGMIN: Go on.

YOU: It's so hard [cries into hands]

SEUNGMIN: You can do this.

YOU: That day... that morning, I noticed the symptoms, and I don't know [rubs temples] I think I got too excited and hastily decided to tell you that I'm pregnant. I know I should've confirmed it first but I was just so enthused to tell you we might have a child together, our child, our future... [looks up in tears] There's nothing I wanted more than having a future with you.

YOU: [sobs] [rubs chest]

YOU: I took a test in the afternoon and turned out, I wasn't pregnant, it was... [sniffles] it was a false alarm but you, Seungmin, you were already far gone...

YOU: [choked sobs]

YOU: That's when I realized that I want a man who doesn't want the same thing as me [sobs louder] I was so wrong, I was so wrong to think that I can have it all...

YOU: [Wipes tears with hands] I want what you can't give. I want what I can't have in the first place.

YOU: I want you and it hurts living with that truth [clutches chest]

YOU: The most hurtful thing is I still want you... even to this very second.

The sound of your own voice from the video blurs into a background noise as you feel the tightness in your chest and it keeps tightening, making it hard for you to breathe.

Your hand is clutching your chest, hitting at it to help you breathe but it does the opposite, you feel hurt instead.

Tears are dropping onto your hand and the surface of the desk, then you see the access key lying there next to your hand.

You take it, pull out the Polaroid, and turn it over to see that it's a photo of you resting your head on Seungmin's chest and you both smile at the camera, frozen in time.

What you said is true, you and Seungmin were so happy like two people in love.

No matter how many memories you erase, if two people are drawn to each other, there is little that can be done to stop that.

Even though you can't remember those memories, you somehow remember how they feel and they're real. You choke on a sob and fall onto the floor, crying into your hands.

You see, remembering is easy but it also hurts so much.

SIX MONTHS LATER

"I can finish this myself," Professor Song says, her red lipstick in contrast to the plain white decor of the lab.

"Are you sure, Professor?" You ask, holding your notebook close to your chest as you watch her perform a dissection on a blue crayfish.

"Yes," she replies as she picks up an iris scissor.

"It's Friday night, a young girl like you should be leaving the office early," she says, turning her head to the side to flash you a smile.

It's been months and you still haven't used to this treatment, not that it's bad, she's nice, almost maternal but most of the time, she feels like a friend that you can comfortably talk to.

"I don't have anywhere to go, Professor," you say with an embarrassed laugh.

"Why not? Get out there, have a few drinks, and flirt with a handsome fella or two," she says, carefully cutting the tail with a cartilage knife.

Scientists are all the same, they work better when they're given the time and space. You have got permission to leave anyway so why should you stay and be a nuisance?

"Is there anything else you want to do then, Professor?" You ask.

She stops bending down and looks at you, "Yes. I want you to send an email to Dr. Lee. Ask him if he has sent the specimens I requested," she orders.

You jot it down quickly in your notebook, "Anything else?"

"No. That's it," she says.

You put your pen back in your lab coat pocket and clasp your hands together in front of you, "Well then, Professor, I'm off to flirt with a handsome fella or two," you poke fun at her.

She hovers to the other table to get a new set of dissection kits, "But remember, only take one home," she warns you.

You chuckle at that and bid your farewell, "Have a great night, Professor!"

"You too, darling!" She says in response.

You return to your desk to do Professor Song's last order of the day and as usual, the girls in the next cubicle are talking about everything they're reading on the internet to pass the time until it's time to clock out.

One of them notices your arrival and knocks on the wall of your cubicle, "Hey, someone came and looking for you," she says.

You stop taking off your lab coat and put it back on, "Yeah. Who?"

"He didn't tell me his name but he's really cute," she answers with a sly smile dancing on her face as if she's amused by her own thoughts.

"Thank you for letting me know," you mutter to her.

From the way she got swooned by the brief meeting, you kind of guess who it is and you'd be devastated if it wasn't him.

Your co-worker pops out of her cubicle again, "Oh and he said he'll be waiting by the aquarium," she adds.

"Okay. Thanks," you mutter your gratitude.

You focus on the task in your hands first, writing an email per Professor Song's request, and leave the second you get the notification that the email has been successfully sent.

The natural history museum you're working in has one floor specialized in sea life and that's the division you're a part of, the aquarium is right below your office.

You skip riding the elevator knowing they'll be crowded with people leaving from work and opt for the emergency stairs. Your heart is racing because what if your guess is wrong?

But also... what if it's right?

The aquarium tends to be dark and the only source of lights are coming from the tanks. You search through the place, among the visitors to find one who has been waiting for you.

And you find him standing by a tank full of seahorses.

Hyunjin looks the same. He's still dressed in oversized clothing and ripped jeans, he still misses his month haircut, except that now, he painted his nails black.

The bluish light of the aquarium casts a glow on his face and he looks so mesmerized by it, quietly observing it with his hands buried in the pockets of his jeans.

You quietly stand next to him, also shoving your hands in your lab coat pockets.

"Do you know that seahorses mate for life?" You utter a random fact to him.

Hyunjin softly chuckles and keeps looking at how the seahorses tangled their tails together to avoid losing each other when they travel.

"I kind of jealous of them," he says.

"Yeah? Why?" You ask.

"Imagine you're a seahorse and one day, you meet another seahorse, you get together and it just... works out," he answers.

"Well, yeah, too bad that you're a tall, sexy computer genius and not a seahorse," you jokingly say.

Hyunjin turns his head at you and your eyes meet, you both burst into laughter almost at the same time. You come to him and throw your arms around him for a quick hug.

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

He holds your hand by the fingers as he speaks, "I didn't– I didn't want to disturb you, you seem busy and all," he answers.

"That didn't stop you from pestering me before," you joke.

Hyunjin takes a moment to look at you, probably making sure that you've been recovering well from that day.

"Wow!" He clicks his tongue as he checks you out.

You suddenly get flustered, "What?"

"I can't believe that I love seeing you in a lab coat," he replies.

It feels good to reunite with him even though looking at him reminds you of that night when everything fell apart. How you said unkind things to him, how you left that night and never returned. You were too embarrassed to call or even text him, you were so mean to him when he didn't deserve any of it.

"Are you busy now?" He asks.

You shake your head, "No, I was actually about to leave."

"Okay, great," he enthusiastically says.

Hyunjin is standing on his tiptoes as he asks you, "Do you want to get dinner with me?"

He must be so used to your rejection and probably think you'd reject him for the umpteenth time. This time it's different, you nod and accept his offer right away, "My treat."

You check the time and it's a little after five which means you're eligible to leave your duty.

"I'm going to get my things and we'll meet in the lobby?"

"Yeah, sure," he replies with a grin.

"See you in five!"

As you're about to leave, you remember something and turn around to look at him. You take something out of your lab coat pocket.

"You can have it while you wait," you playfully say, putting

takes a lollipop out of your lab coat pocket and hands it to him,

The dinner went well, you caught up on so many things and Hyunjin was being careful the whole time by avoiding talking about the lab or Seungmin.

The night continues with him treating you with coffee since you paid for dinner. With the coffee shop is crowded, you decide to wait outside next to a newsstand and there you see him, Seungmin.

Seungmin is on the cover of every magazine there is, talking about his success in building a memory-erasing machine. It's either that or the news that he's expecting a child with his wife who would eventually become the heir of her parents' pharmaceutical empire.

You feel happy for him, genuinely happy to know that, at least, one of you is happy.

"Here you go," Hyunjin hands you one of the coffee cups he's holding.

You look away and take the coffee cup from him, "Thank you."

The night is warm so you both decide to take a walk in the park, trying to digest the dinner you both had. You stop by a bench look over the fountain and sit there.

"So you're working with fish now, huh?" Hyunjin says.

"Not fish. It's sea life," you correct him with a dramatic eye roll.

It's amazing that he can finish his iced coffee so fast, leaving only the ice cubes on the bottom of the cup. He puts the empty cup away and leans back on the bench.

"How about you?" You ask.

Hyunjin gulps air, probably hesitating to talk about how he still works for Seungmin. You put your hand on his knee and say, "You know you can stop being careful around me."

He looks at you, making sure that you're okay with it, "Well, we've been working hard on the production of two new machines," he says.

Everything seems to be going as Seungmin planned and as someone who was once part of it, you're proud of what they have achieved.

He grabs your hand resting on his knee and squeezes it, "Are you okay?"

You gave yourself enough time to wail over everything and even though, you haven't fully recovered, you don't intend to waste any of your time on it.

So to answer his question, you can confidently answer, "I'm okay."

He nods and rubs the back of your hand with his thumb, "You still don't remember any of it?"

You shake your head, "No."

If there's one good thing that comes out of it is that the machine worked wonders. You can't extract the memories you mentioned in the video interview but they do evoke certain feelings you didn't know you had.

Now you get why Professor Hale glanced at you when he said the MNE-Machine is a huge success.

"How about—" Hyunjin stops himself from continuing his question.

"My feelings?" You finish his question for him.

You look inside you for an answer, "Forgetting seems to only amplify the feeling of loss but by remembering the pain... it helps me keep moving," you tell him.

You look up at the night sky and inhale the summer air as you talk about the one thing you learn about all this.

"I'm trying to embrace the entirety of my experiences, the good and the bad, the joyous and the painful... I'm learning still," you end with a low sigh.

Hyunjin slips his fingers between your fingers and laces them together, "I think you're doing great," he says.

Another thing that you learn is that these experiences and memories, regardless of their emotional weight, shape our identities, guide our actions, and ultimately, make us human.

And you'll always remember Hyunjin as a kind and warm person, most of the memories you have of him are good ones.

"Hyunjin," you call his name.

"Yes?"

"I'm so sorry for what I said that night," you sincerely apologize.

You remember how he tried to stop you from leaving, driving at dawn while crying and you shoved him hard, cursing at him and telling him to leave you alone.

"Hey, it's okay. I understand that you were so emotional that night and I would have too if I were you," he says.

Hyunjin is always so kind and understanding, you don't know how you failed to notice them before. Oh, well, it's because you were too busy putting all of your attention on the wrong guy.

He then puts his arm around your shoulder and mutters, "I'm glad you're okay," he says.

And in shared experiences like this, both the joys and the sorrows, are what bind the two of you together.

The walk to your apartment building is quite far from the bus stop but he's not complaining, he likes it and it means he gets to be with you longer.

"Did you find someone else to pester on?"

Hyunjin is busy wondering whether he should hold your hand or not when you suddenly ask him a question.

"The new assistant is a Star Trek fan and a math enthusiast, hard pass," he answers.

You laugh and grab his wrist to take him to cross the street and Hyunjin uses it as an opportunity to hold your hand. He senses your eyes on him as he confidently intertwines his hand with you and surprisingly, you're not letting go.

"How about Rina? You should ask her out," you recommend again.

Hyunjin rolls his eyes, "I told you, she's not my type."

"Then what is your type?"

"Older and prettier," he shortly answers.

You laugh and swing your clasped hand as you walk the street.

"It's a plus if she's great at sex," Hyunjin adds with an eyebrow raised.

You shake your head and laugh it off, your hand shoots in the direction of a building, "This is me," you say.

Hyunjin is not ready to part yet, he slows down his pace to buy him a minute or two. You let go of his hand to rummage inside your bag for your keys, it's jiggling when you get it out.

He stops at the base of steps that lead to the door of your house and waits as you unlock the door. There's another day and another chance to see you again, but... Gosh, he misses you so much, a few hours aren't enough to cure his longing.

You turn around to face him, walking down one step to be on the same eye level with him, "It's been great catching up with you," you tell him.

So this is it, this is the part where he has to say goodnight and see you again another day. Hyunjin inhales air and puts on a smile, "Thank you for the dinner."

"Thank you for the coffee," you say back.

"Thank you for the fact about the seahorses," he adds with a lopsided grin.

You chuckle and hold your hair from being blown by the summer breeze, you suddenly look him in the eyes as you say, "I can't believe that I'm about to say this."

That gets him curious, he gazes into your eyes and asks, "What?"

You press your lips together and smile, "I'm so happy to see you again," you tell him.

It's not just words, he can see it in your eyes and how they light up as you look at him.

If only you knew how long he's been waiting to see you again. Hyunjin waited because he knew meeting him would remind you of that painful night and that's the last thing he wanted: seeing you hurt.

"Are you going to just stare at me and not kiss me?" You say.

Is it selfish of him to say that despite the hurt, he still remembers the happy moments you both shared that night? He wishes you only remember that and now you said those same words from that night, he knows now you keep those in your memory too.

Hyunjin doesn't waste another second to put his lips on yours and while he pours all of his feelings into his kisses, he feels like his chest starts to fill up with hope in return.

Gosh, you still taste sweet and heavenly, he feels like his feet are floating off the ground as your kisses are taking him out of this world.

When you let go of the kiss, Hyunjin is still reeling from it.

"Do you want to come in?" You ask.

And in a second, Hyunjin finds himself back on earth, in this moment where you finally letting him in.

With all of his heart, Hyunjin answers, "Yes."

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strangemaleswaps · 1 month

Text

Strange Job Swap

“Oh it's beautiful!” exclaimed the customer waiting in line. I handed her a nicely decorated cake for her son's birthday.

“It's no big deal. Just doing my job.” I acted like it was no big deal, but really I was gladly accepting the praise!

“This is perfect though. Have you considered being an artist?” she replied with a slightly more serious look.

“Yes I have actually…but the job market is tough.”

“Aww you'll get there eventually! Don't give up! Well anyway, you made my day so for that, thank you!”

“You're welcome.” I was a bit sad though, because she was right; I SHOULD be an artist. I recently earned my bachelor's degree, but yet I was still stuck in this dumb hick town, working as a grocery store cake decorator. I may have been good at what I do but I wouldn't want to do it forever!

At least my co-workers are pretty decent, especially my fellow bakery buddies, Chase, Amber, and Domingo. Amber was cool and didn't take anyone’s shit, which is why I loved seeing her because I didn't have much confidence when dealing with unruly customers. Domingo was very sweet, and even though he didn't speak very good English, he's hella good at his job. And Chase, well…he's hot! His bleach blond hair somehow always caught the light at a perfect angle. I don't know how I even kept my focus when he's working next to me.

At the end of my shift, I clocked out, and decided to buy a couple groceries like I normally did. I scanned everything at the self-checkout, put the receipt into one of my bags, and started walking towards the exit. The store had 2 exits on either side of the front, but I only took one because the other had a certain asshole at it - Richard.

The greeter position was removed a long time ago, but they bring it back for employees that have been injured or are too old, so that they can keep their jobs. Now this old guy named Richard had surgery a long time ago and became the greeter while he recovered. But yet he never went back to his old position.

He always stays at one specific entrance, and the reason I hated him so much was because he's racist. Part of his job has him checking customers’ receipts to make sure they didn't steal anything, which seems pretty unnecessary when you have those anti-theft machines at the exit. But I've seen him. The only people he checks the receipts for are minorities. It's not a subtle thing either; he’s super friendly, greeting and saying goodbye to all the white people passing but when it comes to someone who's not, his demeanor suddenly changes.

My luck must've run out today, because I found the sliding glass doors at my usual exit were broken and currently being fixed. The area was blocked off by a barricade, and I knew there was only one other way to leave. I headed over to the other exit, and there Richard was, waving goodbye to a white mother and her toddler. He was wearing his typical gray uniform shirt that was clearly too small, because you could see his gut and nipples trying to poke through. Gross.

I moved through the aisle, trying not to draw attention to myself, but it was all for nothing because right on cue, Richard walked up to me and gave a great big (and so obviously fake) smile.

“Hello sir, can I see your receipt please?”

“Richard, it's me, Marco. I work in the bakery. You've seen me a million times before.” His smile suddenly faded, and his eyes narrowed, as if every ounce of happiness in his body just vanished.

“That's no excuse. How do I know you aren't stealing?”

“Because I want to keep my job?”

“Don't backtalk to me. You seem awfully suspicious today.” He then reached for his walkie talkie and started to page a manager. I really was able to walk out with no repercussions because I truly didn't steal anything, but there's a chance he would page the Asset Protection lady, who was almost as awful.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” Nobody answered him. Thank god.

“Am I free to go now?” I said happily. The anger returned to his face.

“Just don't let me catch you stealing again. Or there'll be consequences!”

“Yeah…suuuure.” I walked out the door, into my car, and back home. I can't believe some people honestly. I was so sick of this town! I needed to move away real soon.

When I got home my dog, Kenny, was excited to greet me as usual so I let him outside to do his business while I got into my running clothes, prepping for a run. As I let Kenny back in, I went to check the mail and found a weird envelope in between the bills and spam. I opened it up and it was a letter addressed “to whom it may concern”. I threw it away without a second thought but Kenny suddenly ran up to the trash can, took it out, and placed it back in front of me.

“You really want me to read this, don't you boy?” I said cheerily as I patted him on the head.

“To whom it may concern,

Are you struggling with your current job? Unhappy with the life you have? Well I have just the cure for that! We are now selling happiness inducing coins for only $1 with free shipping! One flip of this coin will guarantee you will soon get a job you love! Get it fast before it all runs out! Just follow the link on the back of this letter if you are interested.” - VV

I wondered who or what VV was supposed to be, and $1 with free shipping sounds too good to be true, so this seemed like a scam. I also wasn't a superstitious person, but for some reason my gut was telling me that this was a good idea. Kenny seemed to think so too as he was wagging his tail under the table and I read. I followed the link listed on the back of the page, typing in each random letter and number combination into my phone and ordered the lucky coin. I went to bed that night feeling a little more hopeful.

The next day at work was just like the previous day, only the door was fixed so I didn't have to walk out the exit Richard was standing at. We did make eye contact though, and he shot me a dirty look. I got home to find that the package had already arrived, which was awfully quick. I cut open the box and inside was a golden coin with a picture of a brain on it. The other side had a picture of a person with their arms spread wide. It was a really weird design. I read the instructions.

How to use:

Flip the coin

No matter what side it lands on, you'll be guaranteed happiness in your new job!

It sounded so lame, but I followed the instructions anyway. I flipped the coin the air, and slapped it on the back of my other hand. Tails. Nothing happened. I guess it was just $1 so it wasn't a huge waste of my time. It's pretty cool looking so maybe I could display it on my dresser or something.

I felt especially tired the rest of the night, but I was fine because I had a day off tomorrow. I was gonna go to the park with Kenny, as well as do a few errands. I was just glad I had time away from my job.

The next morning my alarm went off for some reason. I must've accidently set it by mistake. The weirder thing was Kenny wasn't there. Normally at the sound of my alarm, he comes running from wherever he was sleeping, and jumps on the bed to get me up. But there was nothing. When I started to truly wake up and become more alert, I realized that my alarm was set to the default or something. Instead of my usual calming piano, it was an annoying ringing. I opened my eyes to see what was happening. My vision was blurry, but I could tell I wasn't in my own room.

What happened? Did someone kidnap me? The alarm clock wasn't even on a phone, but rather it was an actual alarm clock. I had no idea what was going on, but I reached over to turn it off so I could think. I'm certain I must've been kidnapped somehow but why? And why would they set an alarm clock? I couldn't see but felt around the nightstand for a clue and found a pair of glasses. When I tried them on, just like that, my vision returned to normal. I had perfect vision before! Why did I suddenly need glasses? I reached up to scratch my head and found my hairline was incredibly receded. I was balding! I looked down with my now clear vision to find an even worse fact. I was chubby!

I sat up and stared at the foreign gut and two large man tits, as well as numerous graying chest hairs. I ran my hands through the hair, pinching them to make sure they were real. I pinched the tits as well, and felt sensations I've never felt before as they wobbled when I let go. I ran my hands through my face and felt a mustache and double chin, and began feeling nauseous at the thought of what I actually looked like. I didn't see a mirror in the room so I walked out the door trying to find a bathroom. The fat jiggled all around as I ran.

I got to the bathroom and nearly puked on the spot when I saw who I was. Richard. Oh god no. Of all people, I had to look like this racist bastard? I stared at myself and grazed my hands along my face. Suddenly I felt angry and started pinching it instead, as if I was doing the same thing to the real Richard, but denial didn't help; that was my face and it hurt. I touched his mustache and pinched it, as if it would come off.

Just then I heard the doorbell ring. I didn't want to interact with anybody looking like this but until I figured out how to fix it, I knew I had to pretend to be Richard. I answered the door to find the mailman.

“Howdy Rich! Woah uh.” He stared at my chest. I forgot I was still shirtless. Having this much fat hanging from my body was almost like answering the door naked. “I see you've lost some weight!” he said, obviously lying.

“Oh uh, thanks.” I replied, trying to imitate Richard’s voice, which was pretty easy considering I've mocked him before.

“Well anyway, not much today; just a letter.” He handed me a letter with a purple stamp on it.

“Well uh see you tomorrow!” The mailman went on his way and I closed the door. I opened the letter and found a note similar to the lucky coin advertisement.

To whom it may concern,

Good morning! I trust that your lucky coin worked well? Welcome to your new life! As promised, you now have a job that you love. Unhappy with the results? Just flip the coin once again, and make sure it lands on what it landed on before! If not, however, your fate is sealed. Best Wishes! - VV, Venefica Viola

Shit. They're not lying though. Richard did love his job. And since I was in his body, I now had that job! But who is this Venefica Viola? It sounded like Latin somehow. I walked back to the bedroom to find Richard’s phone. Luckily he didn't have any lock screen pin so I could easily get in. I searched for a translator, dodging the random pop up ads that were everywhere on his phone and looked up Venefica Viola.

Violet Witch. So magic is involved somehow. I needed to get my coin back so I could undo this! It must still be at my own house. Shit! I just realized why the alarm clock went off. Richard worked today! He had perfect attendance and never uses his PTO, so not going in was gonna look suspicious. I glanced at the clock and realized I only had 20 minutes.

Even though I'd love to see Richard be humiliated by going to work in his underwear, I decided that it wasn't worth attracting attention so I looked through his clothes to put on a work uniform. I found a pair of boxers and accidently flashed myself when I completely forgot I didn't have my own dick either. It was all wrinkly, but honestly a lot bigger than I thought. No. I was not about to get horny over Richard's dick! I found what he normally wore to work and put the rest on. I found tucking the shirt was more difficult than usual, as I had to pull it over my belly.

I guess I could make this work…for now. I hated to admit it, but Richard wasn't all that bad looking. It was his personality and habits that made him so repulsive, but now that I was in control of him, he didn't look all that bad. Maybe I could even turn things around for now and do something nice for the people I know he hates. I grabbed the car keys on the nearby table, and drove to work.

I walked in the store, put Richard's nametag on, and clocked in. I nearly started walking to the bakery area but stopped myself. I guess I'm really going to have to be a greeter for a day. This feels humiliating. I made my way to the front entrance and just stood there, waiting for customers to enter or exit.

Soon enough customers began arriving and I tried my best to act like Richard, though one customer asked if I was all right because I guess I overdid it. I didn't ask any customers to show their receipts though, because I might as well take advantage of being a greeter. I noticed Domingo at the checkout and when he bagged up his groceries, he approached me first instead of the door. He hastily grabbed his receipt and started showing it to me. I wasn't about to let this happen.

“No no it's ok. You don't have to show me the receipt anymore.”

“No?” He looked shocked.

“Checking receipts is stupid anyway. I don't need to do it anymore.”

“Really? I can go?”

“Yep! Have a good day.” It was unnerving seeing him so scared at the sight of me, but he smiled like normally did as he put the receipt back in the bag and walked out.

As I moved towards the break room to take my break, I noticed someone who looked awfully familiar walk through the door. It was…me! I mean Richard. It must've been; if I was in his body, he must've been in mine. It became more obvious by the way he was walking, taking big steps as if he was used to having his gut swinging around…like mine was now. God I hated this. I had to talk to him to sort things out. He smirked as I approached.

“Hey!”

“Oh it's you. I mean me. I mean,” he paused for a second and rounded his mouth into an even bigger smile, which looked uncanny with my face. “The old me.”

“What do you mean ‘the old you’”?

“Well seeing as I'm much younger now, while you're much older, I think the term is appropriate.”

“Well yeah, but not for long. I'm going to switch us back.”

“Oh no you're not! I may have preferred being white, but I’m enjoying youth again! Oh, and don't worry. I saw that coin thing and that letter this morning, and I made sure it would never see the light of day again. You got that…Richard?”

He called me that in the same mocking tone that I always use to call him. I can't believe this!

“Y-you can't do this! I had a future!”

“That's my future now old man. You know maybe I could be a model with these looks. Maybe make one of those, what do you kids call it? OnlyFans?”

God no, I'm an artist, not a pornstar. He can't do this!

“The greeter is a real fun job, Richard. Enjoy it. You're hired!”

#strangemaleswaps #body swap #male body swap #male tf #weight gain

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