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sxmmer-cherry · 21 days

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❝ あなたがいれば世界はもっと明るくなります。 ❞

𓆝 OVERTURE — inherently difficult it is indeed, to understand them and their musings. of all complexities in their heart and soul, simplest is their love for you; eternal, deep, and soft. it needs a tangible manifestation too, though. what is their love language, then, after all?

𓆝 FEATURING — all genshin men.

𓆝 NOTES — they are all in established relationships here! it's something i wrote in a sudden bout of madness🤭a formatted old post <3

🐬—masterlist. —the author. —leave a note. —navigate.

𓆝 GENSHIN MEN WHO LOVE HUGS. nothing better than the warm embrace of your gentle arms, after all. all day they've dealt with idiots and snakes alike, and now that night has befallen, they wish to rest well within their lover's warm arms. it's like they're floating amidst clouds with the ecstasy they feel at the sensation of your lovely scent and presence. your soft heart beat reminds them they need not fret now—whoever or whatever might it be, you'll keep it at bay for now and let them rest; with the protective arm you place against their back. bonus points that it saves them long-winded explanations that they may or may not even be able to give.

— switch it to when you're so upset you're unwilling to talk. whether the anger be directed towards them or not, they will always work towards dissolving it. so even when you protest with soft pushes and push against their chest to move out of their hold, they don't let you go until you're crying and taking all the frustration out on them. it's what they want really— to rid you of your anger and feel relaxed; so don't be surprised when they laugh at your soft apology afterwards. they just feel glad that you were honest with them in a moment of weakness, after all.

AL HAITHAM, LYNEY, CHILDE

𓆝 GENSHIN MEN WHO LOVE OFFERING YOU LOVELY WORDS. their words are honey to your ears, dissolving the bitterness of a rough day as they sink in. almost as though they open their mouth to speak, but instead of words, flowers fall out. it's the sweetest gesture really, even more so when your ears are bleeding out from the pain of listening to worse and worse people the entire day. and in their eyes, watching you smile softly as your frown relaxes is the best gift really. they don't really need anything back, just a kiss in return would be lovely.

— but if it's you attempting at offering them gentle words, they melt entirely. they forget their anger and laugh, becoming humble once again and losing their wrath. the way you gently appeal to their heart makes them heart-eyed, and as they stare lovingly at you, they can't help but smile shyly. to be the receiver of your love they feel much grateful, even more so when they're angry. they're all the more willing to talk out it with you now— although you don't have to fret about them being too reckless now, they won't direct their anger anywhere. it disappeared the moment you spoke so softly, after all.

KAZUHA, HEIZOU, ZHONGLI

𓆝 GENSHIN MEN WHO LOVE HOLDING HANDS. they think it's cute, but more than that it's perfectly warm and affectionate—affectionate enough for you to smile as you both walk together and warm enough for both of you to engage in loving conversation. it's a gesture protective enough for everyone to know who you belong to. it makes them giddy really; complimented by your small habit of slightly tightening your fist around them when you're talking away about something passionately and they know to listen very carefully, even more than they were earlier, and respond to you with the loveliest of smiles.

— much similar is the situation when you initiate the gesture; although it makes them so shy they might as well just need a moment to snap out of it before finding in themselves the boldness to look back into your warm eyes. it's so sweet really, watching them being that shy when they themselves suggested that it'd be warmer if you held their hands— not that you aren't used to such displays of shyness though! it just makes them laugh a bit when they think back to it; what a pleasure to be reminded of your childish smile as they blushed then.

BAIZHU, CAPITANO

𓆝 GENSHIN MEN WHO LOVE KISSES. don't get them wrong— it's nothing weird or dirty, it's just that it's the closest they can get to you without going any further. but more than that they love to see the way your eyes widen slightly whenever they kiss you even when you've been with them for so long. they love the way return to their normal size just as quick and then shut in a loving, gentle gesture. they feel obsessed with your vanilla scent as you push your tongue against theirs in a playful gesture, finding your soft lips the heaven they needed to return to after a long day at work. and such a delight is your shy grin afterwards as you break into a chuckle and hide your face in their chest— shy of their passionate display of love and they're left laughing at your sudden shyness.

— reverse it with when you're so giddy with love that you can't resist planting one against their lips in a quick manner, pulling away just as quick as you lean in. they won't say its unsatisfactory— not really, in fact it's twice as potent because once they feel the cloud-like softness of your lips against their own, they're left wanting to pin you down and first kiss you properly before you can flitter away once again; taking into consideration your butterfly-like disposition. they laugh at your bubbly nature honestly— what an innocent butterfly you are.

KAEYA, NEUVILLETTE, WRIOTHESLEY

𓆝 GENSHIN MEN WHO LOVE GIFTS. trust them, it's not the worth or the value of the gift that matters. but it's the intention, for to them, it is more than obvious what intention you had behind giving them that particular gift. so even when they find an envelope from you entailing work details, they can't help but smile gently at the sight of the rose petal seal. they mentioned it to you— their fondness for these kinds of fancy seals, so to think that you caught on to t so quick manages to make them laugh as they softly tear the letter open, warmth igniting in their chest. and so was the case when you once left them a bouquet of garden roses before leaving for work, telling them that you were in a good mood today and would wait for them at the restaurant. they don't need to rely on these romantic outings for you really, but to them it's the thought, the regard you had for their feeling behind such gestures that matters.

— so they're just as generous if not more with their gifts. whether it be something as small as a chocolate, they just know all your likes and dislikes. even while buying groceries they remember in casual yet great detail of every condiment you like, don't like and use. so don't be so surprised when they pick out with complete confidence— yet with no knowledge of your previous fixation with it— the pair of earrings out of the hundreds of others you've had your eye on for a while. it makes them laugh honestly— they're your lover after all, who will take care of your needs and feelings if not them?

DILUC, KAVEH

𓆝 GENSHIN MEN WHO LOVE RANDOM ACTS OF SERVICE. they're in your service, through and through your honour! all jokes aside, they seriously love you so much. when you come back home after a tiring day, or even if you simply tired yourself out after toil, they'll always keep the kettle ready for you. they're not so verbal with their feeling always, in fact rarely so for in their eyes it is actions that truly matter. they prefer practicality and devotional displays of affection that let you know that you're loved. from waking up five minutes earlier than you do to throw out the garbage, to making sure the kitchen is warm enough to be worked in before you come home from work, they mind it all and with surprising memory and dedication. hence, you smile with great pride when someone questions the devotion of your husband towards you, because you never have anything to say other than 'absolute and in complete measure'.

— but they feel just as happy when you're just as sensitive to their requirements and incorporate it into your habits. they love it so much when you remember the way they like various foods or beverages, or when you make sure to turn the heaters on in the study before they return to ensure they can work peacefully on their extra documents. just as soft they are when you always arrange their study when they're too tired to do so themselves and sigh with both relief and a sudden rush of affection when they see all the books winded and in their proper positions. they love offering you devotion and being offered the same— it's really just a question of who's at home to take care of things and who's not at the end of the day.

AETHER, CYNO, THOMA, DOTTORE

𓆝 GENSHIN MEN WHO LOVE QUIET ADORATION. now look, they're your lovers, alright. they'll sing you a ballad if need be, but upon catching the slightest glimpse of your innocent smile— it's like they're weak in the knees. they're stoic men in real life, wary of excessive emotion or sentiments, but you stir in them the passion that forces them to admire you in ways more than poets have known. it's endearing really, watching them struggle at first but then you come to sight and they've written a paragraph about everything they've loved about you. and their pen just won't stop still because now it'd rather expose their desires, all the things they've ever thought of admitting to you, saying to you, but never managed to. it's cute when you find the crumpled paper under their desk and read it with a mischievous smile. they think the universe has answered them when you ask them out on a date to the nursery the next day— unaware you read how much they'd love to show you their knowledge about plants.

— cuter again is the situation when you wake up one day and find them sitting next to you, rubbing their eyes in a lazy manner. the sun is directly behind them when they turn to you and smile the most ethereal smile you've ever witnessed, the sun sitting atop their head like a crown of their royal elegance. so stirred are you that your hands move later at their own accord as you pick the brush and paint the scene— unable to forget even the tiniest detail; their lazy eyes to the soft stretch of their lips, then their rose tinted cheeks and the messy morning hair. you'd rather not show it to them and keep it covered with a white cloth in your studio at all times. its when they coincidentally go into that room during cleaning that they find the portrait and pull the sheet out of sheer curiosity that they can't shut their mouth out of awe— trust them that they've never found themselves so beautiful than when you painted them, and nor will they ever do so ever again.

ALBEDO, WANDERER, XIAO

𓆝 GENSHIN MEN WHO LOVE QUALITY TIME. it doesn't matter the least bit to them what you both do during these pockets of stolen times between duty and responsibility, as long as they're with you. they're down for anything really, whether it be watching a movie or going to a pottery shop or learning a new language or just taking a nap. they're all down for it! it's just that finding time is so hard with their busy schedule that they're desperate at all times to have any bit of time to devote to you. they're so fond of you in fact, that even if they found you picking between dresses for your next night out with them, they'll laugh and then easily point at that black one and the pair it with the black coat and silver necklace. and then when they find you smiling secretively, they'll blush deep red and then drop the dress on the bed and won't speak another work out of shyness before you hug them and ruffle their hair, telling them that you really were just admiring them for their thoughtful nature. and then they'll hug you back, just as red, before pulling you down with themselves, tickling you, until you're just as red as they are from laughing.

— same is the case when you steal some time and then suggest seven different ideas about what you can do next with them, waiting for them to choose out of suitability whereas all they're waiting for is a slip of your tongue so that you accidentally admit your own preference— which you wouldn't have said in favour of knowing their choice— and suddenly they wish to do it too, and you, in your evergreen innocence agree with a joyous spirit thinking they're so lovely to have a choice naturally similar to yours. it's never a question for them actually— all their personal time is always devoted to you!

AYATO, GOROU, PANATLONE, TIGHNARI

𓆝 GENSHIN MEN WHO LOVE DEEP LATE-NIGHT TALKS. they can't sleep early, so trust them when they say it and keep turning over and over again in the bed. and then when you snap they're left laughing sheepishly, trying to explain why they can't sleep in the first place. often they manage to make you calm down and engage in a discussion— about your friend, the stars, the local news channel, the milkman, the festivities, you name it and they'll have an entire book they can write on the said topic. and they speak just as animated about these topics too, always including an incident about it or a joke that convinces you into talking a little bit more. while it initially entertains you, being talkative as you yourself are, you end up feeling entirely drained by the time the clock strikes three and you have to convince them into sleeping. red-eyed when you wake up they apologize with innocent gazes, almost instantly gaining a tired sigh from your side; the usual indication that they are too endearing for you to scold them.

— usually, however, it does not end up like this. late-night talks happen when the champagne opens and you two are alone, pondering one thing or the other in silence before either grows tired of the silence and mentions the smallest catalyst for the other to narrate a speech on, laughing when three hours pass without the flow of topics getting over. and no end is visible to the eternal dialogue even after you both see the time— stopping only with a laugh when a third person interferes. it's what they love so much really, these moments where you're honest and transparent with them, these pockets of time that are reserved for the both of you. it might not appear anything particular, but these long talks with you are what keeps them sane when stress and anxiety hit.

ITTO, GAMING, VENTI

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beefboyandbabygirl · 10 months

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

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

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

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

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

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

wordcount: 10.0k

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

Sometimes you think that the loneliness might kill you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sometimes you think that the loneliness might kill you.

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

What do normal people do when they feel this bad?

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

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

There’s never anyone at the door. _____________________________

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

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

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

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

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

“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Tina.

“Morning, Tina,” you mumble back.

“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Gerard.

“Morning, Gerard,” you mumble back.

“Morning.”

“M-”

Wait a minute.

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

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

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

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

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

“Nice to meet you too, Y/n.”

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

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

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

This is not new.

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Y/n?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

“Uh-”

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

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

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

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

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

You feel like shit. _____________________________

Why is no one else cursed?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He leaves.

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

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

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

“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Tina.

“Morning, Tina,” you mumble back.

“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Gerard.

“Morning, Gerard,” you mumble back.

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

“Morning, Wonwoo.”

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

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

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

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

“My favorite woman in accounting!”

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s great-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wonwoo’s eyebrows raise. “Boyfriend?”

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

A pause.

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

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

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

This would be torture. _____________________________

It is not torture.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s a pause.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“W-Wonwoo, you don’t have to-”

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

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

Eventually, he lets you go.

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

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

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

“I, uh, I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Of course.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyebrows furrow.

“Wha-”

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

“Cured?”

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

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

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

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

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

“We can just hug if you-”

You feel bold.

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

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

What had Wonwoo been talking about? Touch-starved?

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

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

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

His hands run up and down your sides.

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

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

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

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

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

“Wonwoo,” you pip.

“Mhm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He does take care of you.

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

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

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

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

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

“We’re almost done.”

“Mhm.”

“I can’t believe we’re almost done!”

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

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

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

A pause. He tilts his head.

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

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

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

“We’re not done.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He breathes out unsteadily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I take off your clothes, pretty?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“W-What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We don’t have to-”

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

“It’s just if you were too tired..-”

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

“Okay. C’mere then.”

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

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

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

“Come ride me, baby.”

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

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

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

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

“Can I put it in?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re so pretty, baby.”

“Your tits are so perfect, shit.”

“Pretty girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You catch your breaths.

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

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

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

“Am getting your dick out of me?”

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

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

He tilts his head teasingly.

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

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

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opennwindows · 8 months

Note

May I request a smoll eyeless jack x f reader nsfw story? Or headcanons?

eyeless jack x fem reader NSFW hcs

cw: 18+ content, medical kink, breeding kink, biting, blood, kinda disrespecting boundaries?? kinda not??, afab fem aligned reader

a/n: hey let’s all ignore my wildly different formatting for each post until i figure out wtf i’m doing lmfao. i decided to do hcs for this since i enjoy rambling and i have a couple fics already lined up and those take significantly longer for me to write!! i hope that’s okay anon, i just want to get more stuff posted :) also i threw a bunch of random ideas together for this so if you’d like anything else more specific please req again!

sooo we all know eyeless jack is a demon, right? to say dude is into some freaky shit would be an understatement.

- jack has a higher sex drive than most due to his demon tendencies. pair that with the rush he gets after a good evening of organ harvesting and you’re in for a Very Long Night. his stamina is also no joke.

- wear a short skirt? it’s getting cut off with his scalpel. accidentally slice your finger while chopping vegetables? well you better turn off the stove because he’s bending you over it. he senses you’re ovulating? he’s fucking you twice as much.

- if you’re into medical play and getting cut up with surgery tools he will be over the moon.

- if not, you’re gonna have to have a sit down talk with jack. he will do his best, but he can end up viewing you as just a lowly human at times. you’re gonna have to put your foot down sternly to fully gain his respect. he cares about your boundaries (somewhat), it just takes a minute to get through to his human side.

- on that note, don’t even dream of dominating him. he’ll laugh in your face and restrain you if the idea even crosses your mind. the thought of a weaker being telling him what to do during sex is comical to jack. he might let you ride him if he’s feeling lazy, but his clawed hands will be gripped around your waist as a silent reminder of who’s in charge.

- he’s into degradation. not the typical “you’re a whore” shit. no, this guy will take every chance to remind you that you’re just a fragile little human that’s only breathing because he lets you. if you feed into his ego, jack will reward you with his face between your thighs for hours.

- ooh let me take a moment to talk about this monster’s tongue. godly is an ironic term to describe anything involving jack but it’s the only fitting word. it’s long, slightly textured, quick and strong. he looooves to edge you until you inevitably break and the only words you can form are broken pleas. you’re gonna have to pry him off of you during your periods. he’s a little nasty

- jack will pretty much refuse to cum anywhere that isn’t inside you or your mouth. during sex, he tends to fully give into his animalistic demon qualities. meaning the only thing running through his mind is ‘breed, breed, breed.’

- big corruption kink. like MASSIVE. i think all the pastas have some form of corruption kink, but obviously the whole demon thing brings it to a new level. if you were a virgin when you met him, he’s gonna have to physically restrain himself from pouncing on you the second its brought up in conversation.

- let’s talk about positions. jack’s not really picky as long as he’s fucking your brains out but he does have a few favorites. mating press is almost always a winner since it feeds into his need to breed (i crack myself up). missionary is a classic that ensures he can have complete control. jack is also a fan of fucking on operating tables???? don’t ask me ask him, he’s odd. his least favorites involve 69, cowgirl, or pretty much anything that involves you on top of him. he doesn’t really get tired so doing all the work doesn’t bother him.

- will 100% spit in your mouth and he doesn’t care if you think it’s gross. get used to it sorry. if you’re into it then you’ve won.

- probably will throw a tantrum if he finds out you masturbated without him. he’s given you so much special attention and you still want more? well. he’s gonna fuck you so hard that you’ll be too sore to even think about touching yourself. i’m praying for you girl good luck.

- LOVES TO BITE ON YOUR CHEST AND NECK. i cannot stress this enough. and he WILL draw blood, i mean his mouth is full of sharp teeth so it’s basically a given. bro will be fucking you and straight up take a drink break FROM YOUR THROAT. be prepared to never show your neck or cleavage in public ever again. unless you’re into that. then you go girl, we’re all cheering for you.

- jack thinks it’s hilarious to say terrifying unsexy shit during sex. “i can’t wait to cut you open and eat those delicious kidneys that belong to me….” you just look at him with your mouth open. you’d be better off ignoring his annoying ass he (probably) doesn’t mean it.

#eyeless jack #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack x you #eyeless jack x y/n #eyeless jack smut #creepypasta smut #creepypasta #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta x female reader #creepypasta x reader #celia reqs #eyeless jack headcanon #i refuse to abbreviate creepypasta yall are crazy for that

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xxkissesforchanniexx · 1 month

Text

𝐏𝐥𝐮𝐬 𝐎𝐧𝐞

Pairing: childhood bff!Chan x fem!reader (non-idol au) Word count: 3.4k Genre: Fluff 🥰💖, Smut 🔥❤️ (angst if you squint) Warning: Weddings... (lord help me), pro best friend chan, mentions of familial favoritism, semi rough sex? , soft dom!chan, sweet name calling(babygirl, princess), slightly jealous chan, comfort, lord someone teach me how to make better warnings, i think thats all? (someone needs to teach me to proof read.)

A/N: THANK YOU FOR 100 FOLLOWERS I LOVE YOU <3 I'm working on improving the formating of my works so >.> bare with me if some of the stuff doesnt translate over well on different devices, especially the text message part >.>

When you were young, you often got compared to your sister, your sister who loved pink and poodles and tutu skirts. She was younger than you by a year and yet, she always out did you, always was a step ahead, always beating you in everything. Yeah, you loved her, but the pain of comparison drove a wedge between you two.

You were 5 when you met Chan. He was very silly, always playing games and smiling, you happened to attend the same school and after he stood up for you against an older boy at the park you two were inseparable.

Chan, who sang for you. Chan, who shared his food with you. Chan, who taught you how to dance. Chan, who teased you for acting like a nerd. Chan, who was your best friend.

Chan was sitting on the couch in your apartment, watching a cringey romantic comedy with you when your phone rang. You gave it a glance and cringed, your grandmother's name appeared on the screen with a image of the woman with an almost plastic smile.

"You should probably answer." Chan said, "Would make it worse if you didn't."

You gave your best friend a side eye. "Nah really?"

He laughed lightly as you answered the phone.

"Hi, honey, you are joining us this year for the whole family get-together aren't you?" The old woman's voice came through the speaker to your ear.

"Of course Grandma-" You started.

"That's what you said last year, and you didn't come."

You made a face, the reason you hadn't gone was because you were sick. "Things happen Grandma."

"And the year before that?"

You pursed your lips, glancing at Chan. You weren't avoiding your family really you were just... avoiding the conflict that ensued when you were with your family. And by conflict you meant the constant onslaught of questions and disappointed looks you got whenever your family asked about anything you were doing with your life.

"And anyway, it's been so long since we've heard from you, we want to see how you've been, keep the family together, bring new people in along the way." Your grandma sounded so happy.

"What do you mean?" You were confused by the "bring new people".

"Oh dear. Did your sister not tell you?" Your grandma sighed, "She has a surprise for us this year."

You sighed. Your little sister always was one better than you, or two, or ten...

"Y/n?" Your grandma's voice brought you out of your daze and Chan leaned forward looking at your face.

"I'll be there this year grandma, I promise."

"Alright. Bye bye honey."

"Bye..." You said in a small voice hanging up.

Chan smiled slightly at you. "So?"

"Help."

His eyes widened slightly before darting around. "You know I really would if I could read minds but it's awfully sad I cant."

You rolled your eyes at the man. "My family dislikes everything I do."

"And?" Chan leaned back, raising a brow.

"They don't dislike you."

"What are you trying to do here?"

You clasped your hands and gave your best friend the most innocent pure pleading gaze. "Come with me, so they won't hate on me."

Chan made a face. "No-"

"I'll pay for the wifi in your apartment for the next two- four months." You grabbed your friend's big hands in yours, "Please!"

"Just because they don't hate me doesn't mean they won't hate on you." Chan said exasperated.

"BUT they'll find someone to compare to you so I won't have to be put down by this." You give him a pleading look.

"Y/n. I've done a lot of dum shit before this is my limit."

"Channie!" You begged. "Come on! I'll pay your netflix subscription too!"

Chan groaned. "Fine! You're making me feel guilty."

"AH! You're the best Chan." You smiled hugging you friend.

He rolled his eyes and patted your hair. "You're lucky netflix is expensive."

So there you were dinner, with your family, your grandmother quick to jump and compliment Chan and compare your father and uncles to him when they were his age. Everyone complimenting your sister and asking her what the big news was. Your dad looked about ready to leave when your younger sister stood. tapping her spoon against her glass gently.

You looked at her, she smiled at you, a smile you couldn't read.

"I have a big announcement to make." She looked at her boyfriend. "Well.. we have a big announcement to make."

"What is it dear?" Your mother asked.

"We're getting married!" Your little sister jumped and smiled. Everyone started clapping.

The initial excitement and congratulations ended, leaving a gently chattering at the table.

Cue your grandmother.

"Y/n dear, what about you?"

Silence.

Everyone looked at you.

Your sister sighed slightly. "Granny, you can't pester her. Give her time, she might get married before 40."

A soft laugh rippled over the table, you stared at your little sister. She smiled innocently, your fist clenched under the table. So what if she was younger and prettier and more successful. You made a move to excuse yourself but Chan grabbed your fist under the table, you relaxed your grip and his fingers slipped between yours and squeezed gently. Your heart skipped a beat and you looked up at your best friend, smiling.

Her Majesty the Queen 01:53 She was obviously out to get you.

Butt Hunter 01:53 I agree

🐶 01:54 Go to the wedding in white.

Baby Chick 01:54 💀

. Me 01:54 I'm NOT going to my sister's wedding in white!

Beanie boy 01:54 He's giving real solutions here.

Squirrel 01:55 Just don't go?

Bread. 01:55 All you do is avoid conflict.

Squirrel 01:55 NO I DONT

Noodle Spirit Survivor. 01:56 shut up. it's 2 in the fucking morning.

. Me 01:56 Sorry Chan, we'll shut up now.

Beanie boy 01:56 Erm actually it's 1:56 AM

🐶 01:56 It's called silent old man.

Bread. 01:56 LMFAO

Baby Chick 01:56 LOL

Butt Hunter 01:56 I don't think his phone box has a silent button.

Squirrel 01:57 😭

Her Majesty the Queen 01:57 💀

You put your phone down and picked up the invitation to your sister's wedding, 4 months... all you had was 4 months to get someone to go to the wedding with. You sighed, going to the app store and downloaded for the nth time, tinder. Cringing.

You had four months to at least meet some expectations, get a nice guy for maybe a month or two, ask him to be your plus one to your sister's wedding then what? You shrugged to yourself and shoved your phone under your pillow before going to sleep.

Chan realized he was screwed, he watched you get ready for another date.

"Honestly." You sighed sitting down to put on your makeup. "I might just go with a random guy. Or maybe I could take Hyunjin or Jisung."

He pursed his lips. Was he even an option for you? What made this guy from tinder so important you had to doll yourself up to go see him. Chan bit his lip, you were his best friend, he could fix the problem, he could be your plus one, he could ask. but he didn't. He was too scared to.

He remembered his conversation with Changbin and Minho a few days earlier. Maybe he was being too much of a pussy. He'd known you for ages, he knew how you liked your coffee and the music that calmed you down, he knew what part in silly romance movies made you cry, he knew when you were uncomfortable and when you were too angry to speak.

"If you keep beating around the bush with how you feel you might never get a chance."

Changbin's words rang in his ears and he bit his lip.

"Y/n what if-" He started.

The doorbell rang as you finished applying your lip stick. "Oh, I gotta go Channie." You stood and hugged him. "Wish me luck."

"Good luck." Chan gave you a small smile and the moment you were out the door he was cursing himself for not stopping you. "Damnit."

Chan wished he hadn't wished you luck. You and Seokmin, your date, apparently hit it off. For the next two and a half weeks Chan felt like a third wheel in his own friendship with you, if you weren't on the phone with Seokmin, you were texting him, and if you weren't texting him, you were talking about him.

It really came to a head when Hyunjin invited the entirety of the group chat to go out for karaoke and you were busy with Seokmin the day off.

It hand't really been his intention to show up at your place angry, just the thought of you not just ghosting him but the whole friend group. He knocked a few times. no response.

Chan knocked again. he still got no response. Sure the key in the dirt of the potted plant hanging under the sign of your apartment number was for emergencies only, but this was an emergency. (to him anyway.)

Chan opened the door and entered your apartment, expecting to hear lewd sounds or... what else was he really expecting. But as he approached your door his heart ached. It wasn't a sound he heard often from you but it was one he could recognize any day. Chan pushed the door open slowly. You sat on your bed, hugging a pillow, eyes red and puffy, tears streaking your face, you didn't notice him until he closed the door gently behind himself.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly.

You quickly wiped your tears. "Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

Chan sighed. "Come here." He sat on the bed and opened his arms.

You leaned into him muttering, "Seokmin is a dumass."

"What happened?" Chan asked, rubbing your shoulder gently.

"He blocked me." You sniffed. "Out of the fucking blue."

Chan hummed softly. "His loss."

You looked up at your friend, "You're so dum."

"Nuh uh, I think I'm pretty smart princess." Chan smiled gently.

"I don't think so." You laughed softly.

He looked down at you. "'M smart enough to stay your friend."

You nod slightly, "I stayed attached to you at the hip is more like it."

"Didn't have a problem with it."

"Chan." You rubbed your friend's arm.

"Hm?"

"Go with me."

"Where?" he asked dumbly.

You sat up and flicked his forehead. "You know where."

"I don't get anything out of it." He rubbed his forehead.

"I'll uh..."

"Worry about it later." He huffed and stood, smoothing your hair. "Should we get (comfort food)?"

"I was wondering when you'd ask." You punched him softly and led the way out of your room.

The day of the wedding you were wearing a long pastel blue dress, and Chan a matching suit, it wasn't the first time you'd matched with your best friend, but this felt more special. Your grandmother and parents gave you side ways glances during the wedding procession, and once the reception had started so did your grandma's vulture like flocking.

"Y/N i really thought you would've come with someone other than Chan, maybe your sister was right you just need time." the old woman sighed.

You sucked in a breathe but Chan grabbed your hand under the table, his words making you freeze, "Is there a problem with me attending as her boyfriend?"

You turned to Chan and he squeezed your hand as if urging you to play along.

Your grandmother looked at you stunned. "What? Since when?"

"The dinner really opened my eyes, maybe guys don't approacher because I'm around, I do look like her boyfriend don't I?" He glanced at you, "Why not give it a shot?"

Your family must have heard your grandmother's cry because your mother and father came over a few moments later and you watched as Chan worked his charm, a mask on his face the entirety of the time.

Your sister looked between you and Chan, blinking quite a bit. As your parents congratulated you on not being single for the first time, you felt like you out did your sister, you looked at Chan, he smiled gently at you and your heart jumped.

After a lot of drinks and cake you decided it was time to head home.(Chan had to drag you out.)

The ride back to your apartment was quiet, you were too buzzed to speak and Chan was focused on driving.

Chan smiled softly, glancing at you. "Wasn't so bad was it?"

You took a moment before you spoke. "Did you mean what you said?"

Chan's brows furrowed, "About what?"

"Did you actually think of me like that after the dinner?" You looked at him.

Chan sucked a breath, squeezing the wheel. "Would you believe me if I said yes."

"I don't have a reason not to."

Chan pulled off the highway onto the smaller road that lead through the city and to your apartment.

"Well?" You asked.

Chan bit his lip and nodded. "I meant what I said."

You remained quiet until he pulled into your apartment complex. And even after he got you into your apartment. You stood there, looking at... Chan. Chan who knew you better than you knew yourself, Chan who always calmed you down, Chan who got angry for you, Chan who bought you food when you were sad and held you until you grew tired of it(you never did you never could), Chan your...

"You meant it?" You were completely sober now, picking up the conversation as if you hadn't been silent for the past half hour.

Chan nodded.

"Is that all there is to it?"

"No." he breathed, stepping closer to you.

"Tell me. What else?" You asked quietly.

"How do I even begin?" He laughed slightly. "I'm sorry-"

"Why are you apologizing?" You looked at him confused.

"For not telling you how I felt from the get go." he smiled, "If there's anything that makes me sleep at night it's you, if there's any place I feel safe it's with you. You make me more happy than I can describe with words alone, there isn't another person I'd be with in any life." He reached and caressed your cheek. "I wanted to fight myself when I let you go out with Seokmin. I want you, I need you, I..." He paused, scanning your face for a signal, any sign to keep going.

"You're going to shut up now when you're at the climax of your speech?" You laughed slightly.

He smiled and rolled his eyes, "I love you. I always have."

"You're really an idiot." You kissed him gently.

Chan blinked in shock. "I-"

You smiled, proud of yourself. "Now-"

Chan grabbed your face and pressed his lips to yours again, you stared for a moment before relaxing into the kiss wrapping your arms around his neck. His tongue fighting yours before he pushed into your mouth to taste you, biting your lip gently.

"Wanted to do that for so long." He breathed against your lips, pulling away slowly.

You grabbed his collar. "If you don't finish what you started I will."

Chan's eyes widened and a smirk grew on his face. He kissed you again and his hand moved to the back of your dress. "May I, princess?"

"You may." You giggled as he removed the dress and your made quick work of his buttons before he shrugged off the jacket and shirt, picking you up and carrying you to the bed.

You squeaked as he threw you onto the bed and got on top you. "Nervous?" he asked laughing lightly.

"No... Of course not." You said looking away.

He smiled and turned your head to face him kissing you passionately before he moved to suck a dark mark just next to your jaw. "So pretty, just for me."

You gasped softly and nodded. "Just for you Channie." Chan continued his assault on your neck before removing your bra and smiling at your chest, he kissed your lips gently. "This is my favorite part of you," He moved to kiss your chest, sucking a nipple into his mouth and biting gently, relishing in the cry that escaped your lips, "But this is second best."

You blushed, "Stop doing that?"

"Doing what?" Chan chuckled against your right breast, pinching the left.

"You-"

"Huh?" He kissed down your belly and bit hard beside your belly button.

"Ow-" You gasped and grabbed his hair.

"Gotta make sure they know you're taken if you wear a crop top." he murmured and moved lower kissing your thigh and pulling your legs apart. "This is mine hm? I think I waited for it long enough." He kissed your thigh before pulling your pantie off. He tossed it haphazardly over his shoulder. He took amount to admire you and you shifted slightly.

"Channie. You're staring." You muttered.

"That a problem princess?"

"Pervert." You rolled your eyes as Chan tugged you to the edge fo the bed.

He rubbed your clit with his thumb applying just enough pressure to make you moan, he smiled. "That feel good?"

You nodded, panting.

"Use your words." He said rubbing your clit a bit faster.

You moaned and tried to move away but his hand came to hold you down. "No, no."

You blushed, "Meanie."

He smirked kissing your belly before slipping a finger into you. You moan as your wall clenched around his digit, he moved it in and out slowly, thumb still working at your clit.

You gasped and bit your lip as he pushed another finger into you. He paused looking at you.

"What?" You tried to move for friction but he held you down.

"I want to hear you."

You blushed furiously, eyes wide.

Chan laughed lightly and started fingering you again, his middle and ring finger curling to find your g-spot.

You let out a loud cry and Chan smiled, he moved to kiss you, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth, he started grinding his palm into your clit as his fingers moved deeper. You moaned into the kiss and squealed, legs kicking slightly. Chan slid a third finger into you and you squirmed.

"It's too much!" You whined.

"I think you can take it." He said kissing your neck, "Just a little bit more, princess, wanna feel you cum on my hand."

You moaned louder as he pinched your nipple, sucking on the other one. You gasped as he started grinding his tented crotch against your thigh.

"Are you going to cum for me?" he cooed into your ear. "Cum for me, please, princess."

You moaned loudly as you came hard on Chan's hand.

He hummed and lifted his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean before leaning to kiss you. "You taste good babygirl." He stood to remove his pants letting them fall to the floor.

You moaned at the lewdness of the action as Chan moved between your legs, tapping his cock against your clit.

"I'm gonna make you feel good, make you mine." He said, his voice thick with lust.

You bit your lip and nodded. "Please. "

Chan smiled kissing you gently as he pushed into you.

A throaty moan erupted from your throat and Chan groaned. "Sound so pretty," He pulled out slowly and pushed in deeply, you cried out at the slight burn. "I'm sorry baby," He kissed your cheeks gently. "Can I move now?"

You nod and before you could ground yourself Chan was pistoning into you, fucking you as if he wouldn't get to again. You held onto him tightly, clawing at his broad shoulders. He moaned and squeezed your hips tightly. "You're so tight princess."

He moaned softly against your neck, kissing and biting, leaving marks that would surely become hickeys by morning, as he rutted into you over and over. You moaned louder, panting into the heated kisses he granted you. The bed creaked and slammed against the wall with the force of it all, the sound of sin slapping against skin filling your bedroom, you were positive the neighbors could hear but it wasn't like you had room to care.

Chan's hand slipped between your bodies and he began rubbing your clit. "C'mon baby. Cum for me again."

Your mouth fell open in a silent cry as he began thrusting into you harder, hitting your g-spot.

"Cum for me princess." He said through grit teeth.

Another thrust sent you toppling over the edge and you came hard, vision going white as you let out a broken cry. Chan followed quickly, his thick length throbbing inside you as you milked him for everything he had. He kept thrusting his gaze distant and glassy.

You whimpered and trembled as he overstimulated you slightly. After a few more thrusts he finally slowed down and relaxed on top of you.

"Let me take you out on a date..." He muttered against your shoulder.

"I'd like that." You said running your fingers through his curly hair.

What da cringe ending 😭 I really want to thank everyone for 100 followers LOVE YALL <3 requests will reopen soon, I'm still busy with school but I hoped you liked this it took really long to make.

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stitched-mouth-vs-the-world · 7 months

Text

Master’s Whore

Pairing: Vincent Phantomhive x Fem! Maid! Reader.

Warning: NSFW, Smut, Master x Servant (possible power dynamic), Cheating, Pet Names, Creampie, Unprotected sex (please wrap it and stay safe everyone!), Intercourse (P in V), Breeding kink?

Summary: Vincent fucks his maid just a room over from his entire family.

Word Count: 806.

Format: Kinktober Fic, Day 1

A/N:

Welcome to Kinktober! My first fic, posted on time. Let's see if I can keep it up for the rest of the month. Hope you like the first edition to Stitched's first Kinktober!I did try to keep this gender neutral in the beginning, but it's a little hard to with smut so you can see when I stopped trying to be GN and just made the reader female. I suppose you can say the reader's gender is still ambiguous despite their female body (and though Vincent calls them 'Princess').I tried to make a McDonald's joke at the end but I don't think it landed at all (I can't fucking believe I made a McDonald's joke in a smut fic)

If you think this fic is good, just wait for Day 2...

Here is the masterlist for all of my Kinktober 2023 works.

—-///—

Your eyes slowly rolled back as the master fucked himself into you.

"Shh, baby, I know you can be quiet..." He whispered into your ear.

You whimpered against your master's hand. It was becoming harder and harder not to scream in ecstasy from his thin fingers and thick cock. Two fingers were pressed against your clit, rubbing in slow sensational motions whilst his dick eased in and out of you at nearly the same pace.

You were trying so hard not make a noise. The consequences of being caught in such a scandalous position with Earl Vincent Phantomhive could be devastating. Not only was Vincent's happy family was at risk, but most importantly your reputation and job was at risk.

Imagine what people would think of you, the Phantomhive mistress whore.

But the thought of the dangerous consequences thrilled the both of you. Made you both all hot and bothered.

"Oh Master!" You moaned out.

Vincent squeezed your jaw tightly, a warning to quiet down.

"Oh princess, you know my family are just outside that door. Are you trying to get us caught?" Vincent tutted.

You whined and lowered your head slightly. You stood facing the door with the Earl right you behind you and inside you, watching and almost daring someone to walk in and catch you in the act.

Vincent suddenly picked up the pace, moving faster in and out of your desperate hole. You placed your hands over Vincent's, the one still squeezing your face, as an attempt to hide your moans and cries better. Vincent groaned behind you, feeling himself grow closer to his climax.

"Oh God, I'm going to fill you up so good my little maid." He huffed into your ear.

"Please Sir!" You cried, the sound muffled behind both your hands and Vincent's over your mouth. You were just as close.

It wasn't long before you and your lover made it to your long needed orgasms. As promised, Vincent spilled his seed far into your awaiting hole. Whilst your cum spilled onto the carpet under you. You'd have fun trying to get that stain out later, seeing as you couldn't possibly leave it for your co workers to deal with.

You sighed and went to stand up straight, but Vincent stopped you with a kind hand on your back.

"Wait Darling, we can't let all this cum go to waste." Vincent chuckled.

He pulled up your panties nice and tight and lovingly tapped your pussy through your panties before letting you stand up and turn to face him.

Vincent tutted again and sighed as you looked down at your cum on the carpet, he was stingy with cum, always insisting both your fluids be properly taken by the other. Vincent liked getting his and yours cum worth. Oh well, he'd just have to make up for it later. He pulled himself back into his trousers and smiled at you while stretching a bit.

He walked over to the door but before opening it, he turned back to you and grinned, "I'll want you again before the day is over, so I'll need you stay later than usual. You don't have a problem with that, do you Princess?"

You stood in front of your master, skirt still pulled up, cum sticking to your thighs and filling your cunt also covering the carpet under you whilst your legs shook. His words had your pussy clenching around nothing, again.

So obviously you smiled and slowly shook you head, "Not at all. Master..."

#stitched #stitched talks #stitched’s kinktober #kinktober 2023 #vincent phantomhive #vincent phantomhive x reader #black butler #black butler x reader #kuroshitsuji #kuroshitsuji x reader #kuroshitsuji smut #vincent phantomhive smut #stitched writes

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eelnoise · 7 months

Text

caveat

zoro x afab reader

c/w: choking, slight cum play, praise, use of the word 'slut', oral sex (both giving and receiving), unprotected sex, soft!zoro, slightly possessive zoro

a/n: i put my whole pussy into this because i'm so biblically down bad for this man. someday i'll figure out how best to format my fics but until then please take this sloppy setup

word count: 2849

Zoro prefers you close. He prefers to see you, to hear you. Hell, even just knowing you’re in a room with him is enough - provided you’re in his vicinity. Much like his swords, you’re precious to him. He needs to protect and care for you, to keep you pristine and without blemish.

And just like his blades, you’re nearly always at his side.

You don’t mind at all. You’re sated to indulge in what you know means a lot to Zoro, so you find yourself in the training room alongside him, curled up on a bench with a book open in your lap.

This quality time usually comes with a caveat - Zoro’s inexplicable and hungry arousal after a workout.

Zoro doesn't notice the shift in his body, the way his heart pounds in his chest, or the way his cock hardens against his thigh. He's too focused on his training, too absorbed in the rhythm of his breathing and the burn in his muscles.

Of course, when Zoro's attention turns away from his own breathlessness and toward the source of his arousal. His eyes lock onto you, taking note of the book in your lap and wondering how long until you set it aside for something else. Something naughtier. His gaze holds for several long moments before Zoro finally breaks the silence.

"You know," he says gruffly, voice roughened by exertion, "it might help if you stopped pretending to read that damn book." His tone is teasing but there's an undercurrent of desire in his words - a clear indication that he wants nothing more than to see you put down those pages and come crawling to him instead.

You look over at him and tilt your head in interest. "Pretending?" You reply, a bemused look etched onto your face. "And why would I be doing that?"

Zoro smirks, his teeth flashing white against the backdrop of his tan skin. "Oh, we both know you haven't turned a page for a while," he says casually, leaning back on the weightlifting bench with nonchalance. "What's the matter? Lost in thought?"

Damn him and his observation haki.

He pauses, letting his gaze drift down to the curve of your breasts before snapping it back up again. "Or maybe you just enjoy watching me sweat." A slow grin spreads across his features as he waits for a response, anticipation coiling tightly within him.

Your guilt is plastered upon your face at his words and a warmth that hadn't been there prior now washes over your cheeks. You'd been caught staring, and staring at him while he's this horny was not exactly the wisest decision. The flustered expression you give him makes his cock twitch almost painfully.

"Fine." You admit, closing the book and placing it to the side. "I was watching. So what?"

Zoro's smirk grows wider at your admission, a dark and predatory gleam lighting up his eyes. "So what?" he echoes, voice low and throaty. "Well, since you asked..."

Without further warning, Zoro pushes himself off the weightlifting bench, his muscular form moving with surprising grace and fluidity. In a single, almost impetuous motion, he's on his feet before you, towering over with his intimidating presence. His hand reaches out, fingers curling gently around your chin as he tilts your head back to meet his gaze. "I think it's time we found out just how much you like watching me sweat." Zoro says, his voice now little more than a rough whisper.

With that, he descends upon you, his lips crashing down onto yours in a possessive, hungry kiss. His tongue darts out to claim your mouth, demanding entry as he presses his hardened length against your soft stomach.

You allow him entry, tongues quickly meeting in a lustrous dance. You taste even better when he's this worked up, and he wasn't about to take it for granted. At the sound of a soft mewl from your lips between breathless, wet kisses, Zoro has to fight the urge to take you there and then.

No. He wants to savor this, to savor you.

The sound of your arousal sends a shiver down Zoro's spine, fueling the fire burning deep within him. He moans low in his throat, his hand sliding up your back to grasp at your hair, pulling gently on those silken strands.

Without breaking the kiss, Zoro steps back, drawing you along with him. His other hand reaches down, grabbing at the hem of your shirt and pulling it upwards in one swift motion. The fabric rides over your head, revealing the skin of your torso. His eyes drink in the sight of your smooth soft stomach, hardened nipples peeking through your bra clearly visible even beneath the thin material.

A growl rumbles low in his throat as he trails his fingers lightly over your skin, tracing lazy patterns that send shivers down your spine. "You're so fucking beautiful," he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough with desire. "And all mine."

"Yeah?" You coo, your sultry tone undeniable. "You want this pretty girl to scream your name?" You know that you're in no position to ask this question, simply teasing him is enough to drive him fucking crazy when he's this rabid for you. And the more you do it, the harder he'll fuck you.

But he isn't in the mood for your game this time. As far as Zoro is concerned he's going to fuck you until you can't see straight anyway.

"You already know the answer to that question." Zoro growls, his voice a low rumble that vibrates against your skin. With that, he spins you around, taking a seat on the bench in your stead. His hands slide down your hips, tracing slow circles as he teases the fabric of your panties. "On your knees," he commands, his voice a dark rasp.

Zoro's heart is racing now, his blood pounding in his ears as he watches you comply, deliciously delicate form kneeling before him. You look up at him through your lashes, a challenging glint in your eyes that does nothing to dampen his arousal.

"Spread your legs," He demands, the rough tone of his voice alone causes you to sigh in arousal. "Show me how much you want this."

You do as you're told, spreading your thighs and pulling your panties to the side, glistening pussy on display and offering yourself to him. "Mmm," You purr, gaze glassed over with lust. "Wanna make you feel so good, baby."

Zoro watches each word leave you in slow motion, transfixed on how each syllable curls off your pretty lips. Before he can think, he's freeing himself from the confines of his shorts and letting his thick, desperate cock fall right into your face.

Zoro groans deeply, his hips jerking forward as he feels the heat of your breath against his engorged shaft. It takes every ounce of self-control he has not to come right then and there, your eager anticipation driving him wild.

He watches, his heart pounding in his chest, as you lower your head and take him into your mouth. Your lips slide smoothly over the head of his cock, sending a shiver of pleasure coursing through his entire body. Zoro's hands come to rest on your shoulders, his grip firm but not quite enough to hold you in place.

"Fuck," he breathes, his voice ragged with desire. "You're so good at this."

With that, he pushes gently against your head, urging you to take more of him. Zoro watches as you obediently open your mouth wider, taking him deeper into your throat. Wet, sloppy sounds echo around the room, fueling his lust even further.

"That's it, baby," he growls, his hips starting to rock gently against your face. "Sucking me so well like the good little slut you are."

Your eyes don't leave his, even as you bob your head up and down, each pleased groan of pleasure or soft words of praise sending out a pang of arousal right to your desperate, weeping pussy. You run your tongue flat against the underside of his length and swirl it around the tip. The mix of saliva and pre-cum coats your busy lips and drips down both your chin and his cock.

He allows for you to pull back for a moment to take a breath, long strands of fluids attaching your mouth to his cock. It's just a moment, though, for as soon as you've recovered he forces your head back down onto him with a forceful motion. You gag around him from the sudden filling of your throat, but he loves the sound.

"Fuck," he breathes out, tangling his fist into your hair and beginning to move your head at his own pace. "Gonna let me cum on that face, right baby?"

"Mhmmm~" You hum, making his dick vibrate from the tone. He grunts in reply, shoving your head right against his pelvis, nose buried in moss green hair as the back of your throat is hit over and over again. Zoro's free hand moves to the front of your neck, grasping it tightly to feel the outline of his cock rut into your warm, slick mouth.

Tears beat at the corners of your eyes and your fingers dig into his thighs as he nears his release. Zoro's hold tightens around you, his soft grunts of pleasure having turned into louder, filthier moans.

Suddenly, he pulls your lips from him with a wet pop and a whine. He holds you in place by your hair - pressing his cock tip to your swollen bottom lip, and instinctively you lull your tongue out against it.

"Shit," Zoro hisses out when you plant a series of open-mouth kisses on it, quickly moving to pump himself with his other hand. "You want my cum in your mouth?"

"Please," you whine, throat a little rasp from how greedily he had face fucked you. "Wanna taste you; need you on my tongue~"

Your words send him over the edge. Zoro tugs at your hair tightly as long, drawn out, and slightly whimpered moans fall from his lips. Thick, white ropes of his spend coat your face and tongue while his hips slowly grind out his high. You, without question, swallow the pool of his seed in your mouth.

"Fuck, baby," Zoro growls, rubbing in the cum on your lips with the head of his dick. "You look so good painted in my cum." He leans forward, releasing his grip on your head, eye taking in your used, messy appearance as if committing it to memory.

Zoro snatches you up then, grabbing you by the hands and swapping your positions so that you’re now sitting on the bench. "Lean back," he demands, tone gruff and low as he hovers over you. "Show me that pretty pussy."

You oblige, of course, leaning on your lower back and spreading your legs open to him like a gift before sliding your panties down, leaving them hooked around your ankle. Zoro grabs onto your thighs with large, calloused hands and spreads your pussy lips open with his thumbs. Without warning he lunges forward, capturing your clit in his mouth with a hungry moan.

He's devouring you, eating you like he would a peach. Zoro slurps your clit loudly and inches two fingers inside your soaked folds. "Fuck!" You cry out, your own digits teasing your nipples. "Feels so good, Zoro~"

His mouth works over you so fucking good that you're already on the precipice of your release. He's flicking his tongue and lapping at your sensitive flesh, your hips buck forward along his lips, coating them in your wetness. Zoro groans against you, vibrating your soaked folds and thrusting his fingers deep within you, curling them so deliciously against your g-spot.

"You like this?" He grunts, taking your cunt-flavored juices greedily. "Tell me what you want."

"Wanna cum!" You sputter out, voice rasp and quivering. "Wanna cum so bad, please…" You're begging. Desperate cries for your sweet release ring in his ears and he absolutely loves it.

Zoro drills his digits into you harder, feeling just how your inner walls flutter around them. "Gonna make you cum, baby." He growls, taking your moans as encouragement. With a series of hard sucks to your clit, you come undone. A sharp, high-pitched scream emits from your throat, body shaking with the force of your orgasm.

"Fuck," Zoro says, pulling away from your pussy and leaning over your sweaty, heaving form. "So fucking pretty." He reaches forward, using the fingers that had been deep in your cunt to wipe some of his leftover cum from your cheek before sliding the digits into your open, willing mouth and forcing the taste of you both onto your tongue. You suck on his fingers, licking them clean.

Then, with one sudden move, his lips are on yours in a fiery, passionate kiss. Zoro doesn't care about the leftover cum smeared across your soft lips, and you don't care about the taste of yourself on his. The kiss is messy, it's sloppy and it's full of teeth and tongue, but as long as you're tethered to him, as he's bound to you, nothing else seems to matter.

Zoro breaks the kiss, but his lips rest just on top of yours. "Think you're ready for my cock now, baby?" He asks, though he knows the answer and you know just how hard he's about to fuck you.

"Fuck," You sputter out, feeling his dick twitch against your slit. "So ready. Need you to fuck me so badly~" Your words are weak, and your voice is raspy, but the look on your face tells him that you're genuine. Genuine and ready for him to fill you.

Zoro smirks, his eye gleaming with lust. "Then take it." He says roughly, shoving his thick cock into you with one quick motion. You gasp, body arching off the bench as he buries himself into your pussy to the hilt. "So fucking tight." Zoro hisses, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he starts to move, thrusting his hips forward in a steady rhythm that has you crying and clawing at him in absolute ecstasy.

Large hands dig into your hips - and you already know that by the end of this, you'll be marked with ten fingertip-sized bruises. Zoro's movements become more frantic, his growls and low grunts of pleasure meeting your salacious cries and whimpers in a cacophony of your entwining lust. Your pussy milks his cock and it makes his eyes roll back into his head with how fucking good you feel, how warm and tight you are around him, how perfect you are.

Zoro grits his teeth, jaw tensing in an attempt to avoid cumming too quickly. But it's hard, so, so hard to not let go and fill you with his seed like the good little cumdump that you are. He picks up speed, forgoing whatever rhythm he had going as he loses himself in the sensation of fucking you.

The tip of his cock hits your cervix hard, each slam of his hips into yours making you see stars. "Zorooooo~~~" you wail, completely cock-drunk with a glazed-over expression. His heavy balls slap against your ass and echo throughout the room as he drills himself into you at a nigh inhuman pace.

The only word left in your vocabulary seems to just be his name, judging by the jumbled, quavering mantra of disjointed syllables that fall from your swollen lips. He can't take it any longer. The way you're calling for him, crying his name over and over as he bottoms out in you without mercy - it's all too much. "Fuck!" Zoro hisses, his death grip on your hips somehow tightening. "Gonna fucking cum, baby. Gonna cum right inside your tight little pussy."

You feel his muscles tense, and with a loud cry of your own name as a warning, Zoro erupts into you, head thrown backward and hips jerking violently while his cock throbs and fills your pussy to the brim with cum - so much that it surprises you.

"Fuck." Zoro pants, collapsing onto you as his chest heaves from exertion. He presses a kiss to your sweaty forehead, heart racing from the intensity of their intimacy. "So good."

As you catch your breath, you hold him close. Both of your chests are flush together, and you swear that you can feel his heartbeat. Arms wrap around his broad shoulders, one of your hands slipping into his hair to gently caress his scalp in a comforting way. Zoro hums in satisfaction as your soothing embrace works wonders for both his mind and aching body.

“Thank you.” Zoro breathes softly into the crook of your neck, his voice barely higher than a whisper. He knows he doesn’t need to thank you, but he wants to. You kiss the top of his head and smile.

“Zoro,” You begin, your voice soft and sweet. “I love you.”

He looks up at you then, one slate-gray eye shining with affection. He smiles.

“I love you, too.”

#one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #roronoa zoro x y/n #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro smut #one piece x reader smut #zoro x reader #ronoroa zoro #opla

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itsclydebitches · 1 month

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Hazbin Hotel: Let's Talk About Cursing!

Trigger warning for lots of cursing in this post (obviously) and discussion of canon abuse scenes

As I delve further into the Hazbin Hotel fandom, I’ve inevitably come across a variety of people who dislike the show for an equal variety of reasons. One criticism I’ve seen with some consistency is in regards to the cursing and yeah, I get it. That’s not going to be everyone’s cup of tea. However, the repeated claim that the cursing is only there as a—failed—attempt at bad, lazy humor got me thinking about why I personally liked the cursing, and why I think it serves a greater purpose in the show.

Now yes, some of the cursing does function as an arguably simplistic joke. The most common setup I’ve noticed is one that leans into a contrast in tone/personalities. We see this a lot with the polite, comparatively timid Charlie as she navigates her distinctly vulgar domain.

Charlie: “Hi, mister!” Demon: “Go fuck yourself!”

The entirety of “Happy Day in Hell” plays with this contrast, setting up Charlie’s slightly skewed, but significantly optimistic perspective of Hell. We are shown again and again how her lyrics are contradicted or twisted into something less innocent through the visuals: a “revealing” street where it’s “hard not to stare” has BDSM going on in a nearby window, Charlie will “open the door” for her people and then literally does so... for a guy who’s already dead. (Or, you know, temporarily out of commission until he heals, or whatever demons do when they’re ‘killed’ by things other than angelic steel.) The entire point here is to contrast the happy, skipping girl claiming that there’s a “warm, fuzzy feeling” in the air with the actual environment of unchecked fires and decaying limbs. And yes, that can be amusing. Not necessarily for everyone as humor is highly subjective and dependent on context, but distilling this contrast down to the shock of a polite greeting getting a “Go fuck yourself!” in response is a kind of entertainment. Especially when Charlie’s reaction adds another layer: for me that’s a very funny—and currently relatable—expression.

We can potentially make the case that this humor format overstays its welcome, but I personally think the show does a good job of keeping Charlie’s cursing both simple and comparatively rare, so that when she is put into these contrast situations the humor lands better. The best example I can think of in the latter half of the show is Susan. There we get the whiplash of polite, trying-to-get-these-people-to-like-her Charlie reaching a breaking point to become “FUCK YOU, YOU OLD BITCH” Charlie. It’s a moment that builds off of the earlier surprise of the courteous Alastor calling someone an “Ornery old bitch”—while Rosie is trying (and failing) to find a nicer way to phrase this.

However, as stated above I think the cursing serves more of a purpose than to just be funny for (some) viewers. Beyond those who simply find cursing distasteful, I’ve seen a fair bit of, “This is so stupid. No one even talks like that!” going around.

Except... I do? I talk like that.

See, I like cursing. I was born to former hippie parents and grew up playing MMOs, so cursing was something I became pretty acclimated to. Personally, I’m glad I was because I’m fascinated by language and cursing—for better or worse—is an integral way that many people communicate. I was taught to see cursing not as the Bad Forbidden Thing You Must Never Ever Do, but rather as just another form of expression, something to be used in moderation and under specific circumstances. Once I became an adult I already understood how I wanted to curse and when it was appropriate to do so. People at work are often shocked when I tell them I curse a lot because no, of course I’m not doing that at my job. That isn't considered professional in this space. Among my friends though?

We can sound a lot like the Hazbin crew.

Undoubtedly the most common curse in the show is “fuck” and its variations, which very much tracks with my personal experience among other people who curse. In fact, it’s so ubiquitous that it barely counts as a curse at all in some groups. It’s more of an easy, accepted way to add emphasis. Vaggie’s “What the fuck was that?” about Alastor’s commercial is a perfect example. She’s pissed and simply saying “What was that?” doesn’t carry the same weight, no matter how angry she may sound when she says it. Vox’s long “Fuuuuuuuck” at the end of “Stayed Gone” conveys an emotion you just can’t capture any other way. No dialogue at all would create a fundamentally different experience of Vox’s feelings and another non-cursing response is just gonna hit different. Not necessarily bad, just different.

“I don’t want to go to the party!” “I don’t want to go to the freaking party!” “I don’t want to go to the fucking party!”

The above represents three distinct characters to me and I think Hazbin Hotel gets that. Cursing isn’t thrown around randomly because something something cursing supposedly sells; it’s all linguistically logical. Characters curse when something surprising or bad happens, or when something unexpectedly good happens, when they’re angry, trying to be sexy, or they want to add that emphasis. That’s a lot of different situations where cursing can be useful and when you use “fuck” in your daily life a lot you become pretty desensitized to it. As said, for many it’s barely a curse at all. Which means that when you really want to curse you’ve got to up the ante. It doesn’t surprise me one bit that the two uses of “cunt” I can recall—a word that is generally considered far worse than “fuck” and makes a lot of people understandably uncomfortable—is used by two of the worst characters in moments that are meant to horrify the viewer:

Adam: “Can’t wait a whole year to slaughter those little cunts / I know it’s just been a week, but we’ll be back in six months!” Valentino: “When I say you’d better get that fucking cunt out of my studio, you say...?”

This horror is especially emphasized in Valentino’s scene. The creators know this word is coming up and deliberately build towards it. Angel is currently being abused and has been reminded that Valentino “owns” him. The above question is a part of a trio that Valentino asks (a standard structure in writing), wherein the third option is the outlier/most shocking of the three. The animation leans into that shock, with the music building and Valentino grabbing Angel to pull him close right on the word “cunt.” Perez even puts emphasis there because he knows that this is a significant word that will change our understanding of Valentino.

Despite having hit Angel multiple times and taunting him with the contract, this is the moment Valentino stops playing the ‘nice’ employer. This is the real him. No more fake compliments and endearments aimed at Charlie, no more fake comfort/intimacy aimed at Angel. That “cunt” conveys a hell of a lot about how Valentino really sees them and when you have a cast of characters who are already cursing on the regular, it takes a word on that level to do that kind of work. If Valentino had said, “get that fucking bitch out of my studio” it wouldn’t have had nearly the same impact because he’s the kind of guy who uses "bitch" even when playing ‘nice.’

Adam’s line from “Hell is Forever” does very similar work. The scene needs a word to align with the horrific reveal that another extermination is just six months away, that conveys Adam’s deep disgust for Charlie’s people, and that still catches the viewer’s attention even though he’s the character (I believe) who curses the most. Here the music drops and Adam is a little closer to speaking than singing; there's this shift because, like with Valentino, our perception of him is shifting. This isn’t just some egotistical idiot who wants to be called “Dick Master,” he’s the leader of an army coming to gleefully kill them. Framing a whole world of people—people Charlie loves—as “cunts” while treating their murder as a holiday that can’t come soon enough creates an, 'Oh shit. This guy is actually a threat' understanding that you can’t quite get with anything else.

On a smaller scale, cursing does other character work throughout the whole show. I watched a number of cursing compilation vids for this meta (that was a trip lol) and again, cursing is not thrown in randomly. Each character has a unique way of cursing that aligns with their personality and motivations:

As said, Adam curses the most in the show which helps sell his truly over-the-top, irreverent personality. Linguistically, the amount he curses also allows for some fun grammatical play. Lines like, “Fucking love putting my name on shit, shit’s the best!” help convey the versatility of cursing.

Also as said, Charlie curses a fair bit but she’s comparatively polite and her cursing tends to be a result of genuinely big emotions—like saying “Crap” when she’s shocked and falls, or “Shit!” when Adam locks her out of the room—rather than sprinkled into her conversations as a modifier. That leaves space to create those moments of amused surprise when Charlie really let’s loose.

Sr Pentious curses even less than Charlie which fits his secretly gooey center. He talks a big game at the start of the show, but he’s actually quite bad at being, well, bad (especially the Amazon version compared to pilot!Pentious). His idea of getting one over on Alastor is ripping a bit of his coat. He loves his Egg Bois and “doesn’t want to live” without them. He has no desire to go into battle without minions/a big machine to hide behind and, of course, he’s the first to be redeemed. He's too much of a secret sweetheart to curse a lot.

Interestingly, Niffty doesn’t seem to curse at all. At least, not enough for me to think of examples off the top of my head. Right now I’m inclined to read that as an extension of her lived experiences/design—the cute 1950’s housewife archetype who is obsessed with keeping things clean doesn’t [gasp!] curse—as well as a way to maintain her legitimate creep factor. As said, cursing is common among the hotel residents and is a way for them to linguistically fit in. Niffty, however, is positioned more as an outsider (despite how much they all obviously love her): she’s actually scary in a way most demons aren’t and despite how weird this whole world is, she stands out as someone no one else can make sense of (even Alastor). If cursing is normal, Niffty is a character who is decidedly positioned as not normal.

Angel curses a fair bit, though his irreverence is conveyed more through innuendos. Angel is great at verbally twisting others’ words (especially Husk’s) to give himself a conversational advantage:

Husk: “Go fuck yourself” Angel: “Only if you watch me~”

Husk: “You’ve come—” Angel: [very loud orgasm noise] Husk: “...to the right place.”

Meanwhile, Husk uses “fuck” plenty, but he’s also one of the few characters who use “bullshit" too. I wouldn’t say there’s anything particularly revealing about that choice, but just giving him a go-to curse that’s otherwise used infrequently helps make his character distinct in a cast of other cursing characters.

Vaggie occasionally curses in Spanish, showing us her heritage if she used to be human, or a distinct knowledge/verbal preference if she’s always been an angel.

Heaven, as the ‘good’ side, doesn’t curse as a general rule, which leaves room for cursing to do more of that silent character work. We’re reminded of the stuffy, overly critical beings she’s dealing with when Charlie receives the combined judgement of the court for saying, “Fuck yeah!” In contrast, we understand just how shocked St. Peter is to see a Morningstar when he lets out an unintentional “Fuck!” The angry vindication of Charlie’s “That’s what the fuck I’ve been saying!” lands harder after multiple scenes of very little cursing, and Lute’s “Some crack-whore who fucked up already? / He blew his shot like the cocks in his mouth—” helps set her apart as an exorcist + Adam's second in command: her shocking violence comes through in her word choice too; words that supposedly don't belong in Heaven.

In what’s arguably the funniest line in the whole show, Lucifer undermines his dramatic standoff with Adam by going, “You mess with my daughter and now I’m going to fuck you.” Beyond just cutting the tension, that fits his bumbling, oblivious personality perfectly. Lucifer is crazy powerful and can absolutely wreck Adam. He also has none of the classy intimidation that, say, Alastor displays when he tries to convey that. This is a depressed himbo who makes ducks in his free time and settles on, “Hey, bitch!” when greeting his estranged daughter. Of course he’s going to accidentally turn a threat into a promise of sex.

Which finally brings me to Alastor, someone whose cursing is already understood well by the fandom. He’s characterized as manipulatively courteous, using manners to both hide his true nature and draw attention to his power—’You’re so beneath me I’ll just calmly sip my coffee and politely ask who you are, despite the fact that we've fought multiple times.’ This is a guy who calls people “My dear” and unironically insults them with the phrase “wacky nonsense.” So when he curses you can BET it’s gonna have an impact. It sure did for me. I had to pause the episode after Alastor’s first “Fuck you” because it was so shocking to hear that language from him. And that’s the point! The scene wants that reaction from the audience. The "Fuck you"s visceral anger contrasting the fake laughs he and Lucifer have been giving, the quick-fire exchange that’s suddenly cut short by Alastor’s choice of a direct insult, the fact that he’s officially dropping the polite veneer they’ve both been indulging in and raising the stakes before Charlie intervenes, the loss of the radio filter that otherwise demonstrates his control over a situation... all of it screams, ‘THIS IS AN IMPORTANT CHARACTER MOMENT.’

"Fuck you” reveals that, for the first time in the show, Alastor is legitimately threatened by someone. Which makes sense given that, you know, Lucifer is the King of Hell. Cursing for Alastor isn’t normal, so when he does curse it’s going to reveal something about a guy who otherwise is obsessed with being unknowable. Having the King of Hell dismiss him is actually infuriating in a way Sir Pentious’ threats could never be and the exchange kicks off a rivalry that rattles Alastor in ways Vox’s never has. (Side note: is it any wonder people ship them? Character A making control freak Character B feel vulnerable is classic!) It’s no surprise to me than that the one other true curse we get from Alastor is, “I’m about to end your fucking life,” delivered to Adam who, like Lucifer, poses a legitimate threat and does end up beating him. I say “true” curse because calling Susan a “bitch” does similar work for him, but the takeaway is humorous rather than dramatic. It’s funny that the only people who can piss Alastor off enough to curse are the First Man/a powerful exorcist angel threatening his life, the literal King of Hell... and Susan.

So there’s a lot going on here, more than what many viewers might assume if they approach the show as just “stupid,” needlessly vulgar entertainment. As shown above, I don’t think the cursing is needless, especially given that, well... they’re in Hell. They’re sinners, supposedly the worst that humanity has to offer, so of course they're going to curse a lot. Does cursing mean you’re a bad person? No. Can you craft a hellish world that doesn't rely on cursing to convey a group's immoral nature? Sure.

Does it make sense that a writer would equate a sinful, irreverent cast with linguistic rebellion and would want to convey a certain vibe that, frankly, you just can’t get without dropping an F bomb?

Yeah, I think so. No one has to like that kind of creative decision, but it’s worth acknowledging it as a deliberate choice.

That’s all! Thanks for reading this fucking long post ✌️

#Hazbin Hotel #Hazbin Hotel meta #mymetas #tw cursing #cw cursing #tw abuse #cw abuse

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ghostlywhiskey · 7 months

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lawyer!price who calls you into his office one day because he's having formatting issues trying to draft a motion and can't figure out how to fix it. typically you don't work on his cases, being assigned a different set of attorneys at the firm, but your desk happens to be closer to his office. so, when you hear your name come out of him in a frustrated tone to come into his office, you quickly stop your current task and head to the doorway of his office. "yes, john?" your tone of voice far softer and laced with nerves since every conversation you've had with other paralegals at the firm mentions their fear and/or their dislike for him.

price looks up at you as you stand in the doorway. "i don't have time to go back and forth sending this fucking document over email trying to figure out why its being a pain and the assigned paralegal is out sick today." is all he says, his eyes staring at you as you stand completely still in the doorway. he didn't tell you to come over to his desk, so your brain cautions you to wait until he orders you to do so.

is he gonna ask me to come over and look at it?

can she move her fucking feet already to look at this word doc.

"well-" "do you-" his words are quickly cut off by yours and both of you fall silent. quickly taking advantage of the silence, you speak up again quickly before he can get a word in. "do you want me to take a look?" you finish your sentence from before, cautiously taking small steps towards his desk like he's an animal in a zoo enclosure that could harm you. except instead of harming you, you'll end up on the unemployment line.

"please." the word sounds forced out of him, like he's trying to bite back any frustration.

how am i suppose to know or assume what you want, prick.

walking over to his desk, he slides his chair back as you get closer, giving you room to stand by his desk to look at his computer. you reach over to grab the mouse, bending down slightly to look at the screen better. as you click around trying to fix the formatting, you don't even bother explaining what you are doing to correct it - knowing damn well the attorneys will always just default to asking you or another paralegal to fix it.

after a few minutes, you hear him clear his throat and stand up. a quick glance without moving your head to make it obvious shows him discreetly adjusting himself as he walks over to the doorway of his office. the only words to leave his mouth are, "i'm getting coffee." as he disappears outside his office door.

fucking skirts. it's not even a short skirt. what the fuck is wrong with me.

you shrug it off, trying not to think too much of it. by the time he gets back to his office, you are already back at your desk and resuming your prior tasks.

as he walks back into his office, he sees a post-it on his keyboard reading, 'fixed the format. lmk if you have any other issues'. the sounds of the post-it crumpling in his hands and hitting the plastic bag of the trashcan faint, but loud enough for you to hear. the action causing you to roll your eyes.

you're welcome.

#captain john price #john price #captain price #captain price x you #john price x reader #john price x you #john price cod #price x reader #price x you #it would be a slow burn fr #like man would not budge on his actions for a long ass time #would subtly make changes to his case load so ur on more cases with him #anyway

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druidrot · 3 months

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so i was looking at the other parts of the ways to show emotion prompt list and part 3 has some great lists so i was hoping you could do “opening mouth slightly” pupils dilating” and “licking lips” with Gale from the how to show desire prompts 👀👀 no worries if not, congrats on the new blog!

thanks so much! and thanks for being my first requester! i’m happy to oblige. now i’m posting on mobile so i apologize if the formatting is wonky. with that being said, enjoy!

just a short little drabble, unsure of word count

pairing: gale dekarios x reader

rating: mature - more suggestive than anything else;)

he’s allowed to have fun at the tiefling party okay?? just let me have this. i get it’s canon divergent just shut up and let me be horny

It was here Gale felt his resolve crumble.

He prides himself on his self-control. In fact, he thinks he’s been a saint since he joined your adventuring party, since this painfully slow dance started between you both.

But he feels his patience waring thin. The tiefling party at the camp has no doubt been a success. He waited patiently as you did your rounds accepting their gifts and thanks so very graciously. He bid his time as you danced and sung and drank with everybody else, working your sweet charm on them.

He knows better, though. He thinks you are a different person under the cover of moonlight, here where you stare up at him with half-lidded, glassy eyes, lips pulled up in the sweetest little smile. You still hold your chalice of wine but your free hand has taken to his, twirling your fingers around his long, narrow digits. He feels his mouth drop open as you take a step closer, your pupils dilating until the beautiful color of your iris is all but hidden.

Around you, the little celebration rages on. In the distance, you can hear Karlach whooping over some drinking game the rowdier of the bunch had taken to playing. Just down the camp from you, Alfira sings a lovely ballad of lover’s lost, Lakrissa bobbing her head from a few paces down.

Gale should be excited about the festivities, elated with the things your party accomplished, ready to drink his troubles away for the night. Instead, he finds himself totally enamored with you., eyes locked on your every movement. He doesn’t know when you became so intoxicating to him, but in this moment, he finds he can’t complain.

“You look like the tressym got your tongue,” you whisper, sidling even closer. “My my, have you been brooding here because I’ve not paid you any attention? Or is saving poor helpless refugees not really your speed?”

You bump your nose against his as your tongue wets your lips. His eyes are immediately drawn to the action and he has to physically fight the urge to rush forward and kiss you. Instead, he grins roguishly at you.

“Quite the rotten little minx, you are,” he teases. taking a step back to cool his body. “Go enjoy yourself, darling. Besides, I’m sure there’s quite the line to get a dance with you tonight. You’ll have plenty of time to harass me later.”

“What if I want to harass you right now? What if I want to spend all night harassing you?”

Gale feels like he’s on fire. Before either of you can really process, he pulls you into a slow, heady kiss.

“You will be the death of me,” he pants between desperate kisses. “You will be the death of us all.”

He is quick to escalate, despite his warning and his lips grow frenetic as he chases your tongue with his, pushing into your mouth with a sense of urgency you didn’t think him capable of. He pulls your body close, impossibly so, and you can do nothing but moan as he continues to kiss you.

“The orb,” Gale tries, whimpering between consuming kisses.

“Don’t blow up on me,” is your only retort, happily losing yourself to the weight of his kiss.

#baldur's gate 3 #gale dekarios x reader #gale x reader #gale dekarios #gale dekarios fanfiction #reader insert #bg3 x reader #gale fanfic #ask #rotwrites

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rustingcat · 8 months

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The moment Kara heard Sam was coming to town she knew there would be trouble.

Not that she had anything against the woman, quite the opposite, she absolutely adored Sam. But her visits tend to be a bit… chaotic.

It started not long after Ruby turned old enough to babysit Esme by herself. Sam would fly to National city for a weekend, leaving Ruby at the Danvers-Olsen house for a paid sleepover with Esme, and dragged the superfriends to the nearest Bar to get them all shitfaced drunk.

Kara would not easily forget waking up on the roof of a ferris wheel once, wearing a clown outfit and hugging a pogo stick. She did forget the events leading up to that point due to the large amount of alcohol she consumed the night before.

Kara briefly toyed with the idea to visit her parents on Argo for the duration of Sam's visit, or at the very least her first night. But she hasn't seen her in so long, and with Kara's very busy schedule she decided it's a good opportunity as any to take some time off and enjoy a night out with her friends. She just hoped there would be no stumbling drunkenly into any more theme parks.

That's why she was very surprised to learn that Sam's new adventurous plan was a simple game night at Kara’s apartment.

With alcohol, of course.

Kara kept her drinking at a minimum, just enough to get some nice buzz out of it, but a far cry from a complete black out. She wasn't the only one, most participants had seemingly decided to avoid a similar fate. Much to Sam's disappointment, Kara assumed, since she kept asking them to do shots.

After a few tame games of Settlers of Catan and a round of pictionary, Sam decided to spice things up a bit. They started with a game of 'would you rather' that slowly evolved into an open question format where everyone answered the same questions.

"Favourite… type of apple?" It was Nia's turn to ask, she spent almost 5 minutes struggling to find a question before settling on one.

"Really? That's the best you got?" Sam asked disappointed.

"I was panicking! That's the only thing I could think of!" Nia said defensively, her arms raising in the air in surrender. "Do you have anything better?"

"You know it," Sam said with a sly smile.

"Go ahead then."

"Alright," Sam clapped her hands, moving her gaze from one person to the next slowly before she continued. "Not including your actual partner, who would you marry out of the people in this room?"

"And I can't choose Nia?" Brainy asked, his hands deep in Nia's hair, drunkenly caressing her hair between his fingers. He may have gotten slightly drunker than most by trying to be nice and accepting most of Sam's shots.

"That would be against the rules." Sam smiled and twisted the wine glass in her hand.

"That's preposterous!" He exclaimed. Nia's head recoiled with a small groan of pain as Brainy accidentally hit her head. "There is no possibility in the multiverse I would pick anyone but her!" He announced, Nia remembered to move her head in time to avoid the second hit.

"You're no fun," Sam rolled her eyes. "Nia?" She smirked.

"Only Brainy, of course." She proclaimed loudly. Brainy rewarded her with a kiss on the forehead while she mouthed 'Kelly' under her breath.

Sam winked to her in return, while the rest tried to hide their chuckle.

"Kelly, you're next for no particular reason," Sam turned to her with a smile.

"Nia," Kelly replied with a matching smile. "For no particular reason."

"Alex?" Sam changed the topic before Brainy could interject.

"You know, I think we could've worked out," she weaved her hand towards Sam's direction.

"Yeah, we could've had some fun," Sam smirked back at her. "Alright, Kara, what about you?" She turned to face her.

"Lena," Kara answered without much thinking.

"Well, she is rich, it makes sense," Sam said under the rim of her glass.

"Rich wife is very convenient," Alex nodded in agreement.

"I'm not choosing her because of her money." The idea of reducing Lena to her finance, a walking wallet if you will, infuriated her. She was so much more than that. Kara put down her empty glass and stood up a bit faster than she intended.

"Then why her?" Sam challenged with a raised eyebrow.

Kara blinked in surprise, was it not obvious? "Because she is amazing! She's brilliant, smart, kind and… pretty," she added with a small blush creeping up her neck. "Also a great listener and problem solver, which is important in a relationship. And-"

"Yeah okay, we got it," Alex cut her off.

Kara gave her a mocking look in response, eyebrows squinted and tongue sticking out as she walked up to the kitchen to refill her glass.

"Lena, who is your pick?" Sam continued with the game.

"Kara, of course." The way she said it, as if there were no other options, filled Kara with warmth she was not expecting. She also wasn't sure why it made her smile so much, but it did. Then again they were best friends, it would be awkward if they were not to pick each other, right?

"Hey Kara, can you get me a beer?" Alex called out.

Kara studied her for a second. "No, you were being annoying."

"Wha- Kara!" Alex whined.

"Get one yourself," Kara shrugged, and poured herself a glass of white wine.

"Kara, can you give me a glass of red, please?" Lena asked. Her voice was so soft, it sent shivers down her spine.

"Of course," Kara quickly pulled another wine glass from the upper cupboard and placed it on her kitchen island.

"Hey, I asked you first," Alex shouted in retaliation, as she finished filling the second glass. "So you're getting Lena's drink and not mine?"

"Yes," Kara answered with a smile, walking back to the living room while maintaining eye contact with her sister, knowing it would annoy her more.

"Why?" Alex challenged, squinting her eyes while maintaining the eye contact.

"Wife privileges," Kara shrugged and took her place next to Lena, shifting a bit closer to her this time before she placed her glass on the table.

Kara almost forgot about the whole thing, until a week later when Lena brought it up. They were sitting in Lena's new office, talking about her new conjoined plan for both her foundation and the newly reformed L-Corp for a new source of green energy. A top secret plan, but Lena was talking about it with so much enthusiasm that Kara couldn't help herself, asking more and more questions, eager to learn more about it. Soon after, Kara found herself in the halls of the foundation's labs, Lena excitedly telling her about the project in detail.

"This sounds amazing, Lena! But I thought this was top secret, not that I'm complaining. I love seeing you this enthusiastic, but how come I get to hear about it?" Kara asked eventually.

Lena was quiet for a moment, before she answered "wife privileges," with a shrug, her cheeks slightly pink.

Kara brought it up next, when she forced Lena to leave the office at a reasonable time. Claiming 'wife privileges' as the reason Lena has to follow her home and relax for a bit.

Lena later used it as an excuse to steal a fry off of Kara’s plate, even though she insisted she only wanted a salad. When she met Kara raised brow she simply shrugged and claimed “wife privileges.”

It quickly became an inside joke for them, a reason for them to do a nice thing for each other or an excuse to get away with stuff; like buying lunch, stealing clothes or bringing surprise pastries. Things they were already doing anyway, they just had a better excuse to do it more often.

"Hey, it's been a month since that game night," Kara said, raising her very fancy wine glass to her lips. Lena invited her to a fancy Italian place that opened recently. It was right after Kara mentioned a craving for pasta the day before.

"Are you suggesting it's our anniversary?" Lena smirked, leaning back on her chair. She didn't need to be specific, she knew Lena knew what she was talking about.

"Happy anniversary." Kara raised her wine glass and smiled. She loved how quick Lena could understand her.

"Happy anniversary." Lena raised her own glass to toss it with hers, smiling her wide smile with the dimples that made Kara all warm inside. She was so captivated by the smile that it took Kara a few moments to realise the waiter was standing right beside them.

The meal was, of course, amazing, not only because of the quality Italian cuisine, but her fantastic company. Kara always felt most like herself when she was with Lena, she wasn't sure why but she made her feel at peace.

They finished their meal, still deep in conversation, sipping the remaining of their wine when the waiter appeared. Presenting them with a complementary tiramisu with a candle and two spoons, wishing them a happy anniversary.

Kara was about to correct him when Lena thanked him with a nod and gestured for Kara to dig in. She couldn't help the goofy smile that spread on her face. Out of all the inside jokes so far, she had the feeling that that was their best one yet.

Read the rest in AO3

#so excited to publish this little fic #been sitting on that one for a while #kara danvers #lena luthor #supergirl #supercorp #supercorp fic #my art #my fic

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catiuskaa · 2 months

Text

new task: valentine’s day.

PAIRING! seungmin x reader ; enemies/rivals2lovers!

SUMMARY: boring classes, boring classmates, boring assignments…to seungmin, everyone is boring even if he’s used to pretend otherwise, but you seem to get on his nerves. you, your stupid poem, and his stupid letter.

WC: 10.6k (OH MY FUCKING GOD)

CW: it’s like fluffy comfort because I say so, kim seungmin supremacy (YES), use of spanglish (just on the text messages bc yes, it’s not relevant to the plot, dw), use of text format for plot convenience (and a whole bunch of emojis and colors), the reader is stupidly short (which i know all about), use of cliché valentine and enemies2lovers tropes (BECAUSE THEY ARE FUN AND THEY WORK), academic rivals (we love to see it), bad student reader x good student seungmin (like bad/mean girl x good boy ish), mentions of the unability to deal with complicated feelings, mentions of masking feelings, slight hint of bullying?, mentions of being followed, use of (pet)names because I don’t like using ‘y/n’: little one, shortie, shortcake, smallable, pretty, (yes i’m just petty like that, sue me), hyunjin as a walking therapist, and the ending is almost a reference to a show i'm obsessed with (not gonna say it so i don't spoil it for you guys hehehe)

SPECIAL THANKS! To my lovely pookies @lyramundana and @tonks-21 for ideas and support, plus also, most of the classmate’s names are thanks to gorgeous gourgeous @stayconnecteed and her spanishverse series bc i’m so invested! Go check all of their blogs out! 100% recommend. son mis chicas españolitas, hehe<3

A/N: alone on valentine’s day? same for me, pookie! but dontchu worry, mister kim seungmin is here to help us out<3 (and if not, we can always help each other😚🫶)

[☆★🌷★☆]

{PROLOGUE: THE GROUPCHAT}

At first, you didn’t really know him.

To think for a second that there was a time where you didn’t know who he was made you sigh. Oh, how you wish you had never, ever encountered him.

…Kim Seungmin.

Some may say that ‘rivals’ or ‘enemies’ is a term that could seem too intense regarding a simple statement: that you two didn’t get along.

But no. Because those kind of words were exactly how you’d define your relationship.

And it had all started the first day of your last year before graduating. When you made the class groupchat.

> you created ‘Year 13-A 😼😼’

> you added ‘lucas🤺’ ‘atenea🛐’ ‘noa🫶’ and 16 more.

> you: guys help, am I missing people?

> you: @ atenea🛐 told me to create this group for homework n stuff but idk if I have everyone’s numbers 😵‍💫😵‍💫

< noa🫶: tía you’re missing two people no?

< lara💋: hala, new people?? 👀

< noa🫶: pero- they’re literally from the other group, girl

< abril🌻: you even know them lara

< abril🌻: se te va la pinza JAJSJA

< miguel📚: sí, there should be 22 people (creo)

> you: oh right, Lix told me!

> you: yeah i’ll add them now, brb 🏃‍♀️

Well.

Rookie mistake.

> you added ‘kim seungmin™️’, ‘hyunjin🎨’

> you: omg i even added everyone

< lucas🤺: omg omg

< kim seungmin™️: omg omg so crazyy

You rolled your eyes, smiling slightly as you texted. But that was just because you hadn’t talked to him before.

Now was a different story, of course. You wouldn’t smile, not for Kim Seungmin.

> you: @ kim seungmin™️ what was crazy is how difficult it was finding someone who had your phone number, lol

< han(gry)🐿️🎙️: fr fr omg

< lucas🤺: que es omg

< lucas🤺: ‘oh me gustas’ ? omg?

< lara💋: you’re such an idiot, asshole

< lucas🤺: ohhh you love me so bad 😌😌😌

< isabel🌸: she knows better lol

< lucas🤺: dude, you’re my sister

< lucas🤺: shouldn’t you be backing me?

< isabel🌸: there’s a fee for that, dude.

You giggled at the stupid teasing, used to your mates’ shenanigans that never ceased to make you laugh.

But then, he replied.

< kim seungmin™️: @ you the only difficult thing here is you reaching graduation

…

Your smile faded.

You read that once more. Then again. And another time.

You chuckled dryly.

What was this guy on about?

> you: ah? wdym?

You remember thinking that maybe he was joking. That maybe he was someone who talked to people with a lot of harsh remarks without really meaning them. That maybe he was trying to be funny, or something.

Other texts showed up, but Kim Seungmin —named like so in the contact Felix had shared to you— wasn’t replying.

< minho🐈: guys wtf it’s 00:12

< lucas🤺: oh he uses the other clock

< lucas🤺: so its am-pm for us but not for you

< lucas🤺: think you’re special? wanna fight?

< noa🫶: lucas just shut up and go to bed

< han(gry)🐿️🎙️: damn right 🛌🛌🛌

< miguel📚: guys, stop texting 😓

> you: yeah guys lol

< minho🐈: no u started this

< minho🐈: u shush

You snickered softly, used to Minho’s humour, quickly playing along.

> you: ?! unfair ☝️🤓

< kim seungmin™️: no, minho’s right for once

< kim seungmin™️: you should shush

< kim seungmin™️: you’re less annoying when you’re quiet

You frowned at your phone, your face contorted in angry confussion.

Who did this guys think he was?

With a huff, you typed a rapid “gtg guys!”, ignoring Seungmin’s texts, and quickly settled your phone back on your pocket, getting off the bus and finally arriving home.

You groaned, the text that that Seungmin idiot had sent still rolling in your head even after you laid in bed. You passed your hands through your hair.

“Difficult to reach graduation?” You mumbled, eyes fixated ln the chatroom the sentence feeling like acid in your mouth.

Kim Seungmin wasn’t ready for how difficult his last year was going to be, solely for his stupid text message.

[☆★🌷★☆]

{ACT 1: NOT A LOVEFOOL… YET}

To be in the same class group than him was slightly tolerable.

Is what you’d like to say if you were in a good mood. But it wasn’t the case.

You were mad. As fuck.

“I just need you to give it a chance,” Miss Fernández stated once more, and you had to hold back to not roll your eyes at her.

“But Miss. I know that this subject is difficult and that he could, uh, help me out with the project,” you muttered reluctantly, because on normal circumstances, you wouldn’t go as far as to let Kim Seungmin help you with chemistry. Not ever.

You weren’t in need of help that desperatly.

And that was a fact, not a matter of ifs, buts, or maybes. That was an absolute. Something that lovely-yet-not-so-much teacher Lucía Fernández, spanish accent and all, was not getting.

“Listen. We both know that your grade is the best I can offer considering your behaviour in my class, despite of your average knowledge of the subject. And in this case, I am offering to set that aside if you work on these following assignments with your classmate Seungmin.”

Her harsh tone was also an absolute, and that made you clench your jaw. You blamed Lucas for her attitude towards you —after all, that one accident with a Bunsen Burner had been mostly his fault—, but you breathed in, trying to offer your most pity-inducing grin.

Judging by her glare, it wasn’t working.

“Miss, I—”

“I’m sorry.” She didn’t look like she was. “It’s my last word. And I think that after coming three days to my office on each of your free periods, this is getting a bit tiring.” She sighed, adjusting her glasses by a soft push of her finger.

Nope. She definetely wasn’t sorry.

Witholding a groan you left her office, and huffed as the door closed behind you, swiftly heading to meet your group of friends when they got out of their Biology lesson in other building within the school grounds.

It was a chilly evening, maybe not too much from what one could expect for the first week of February, still one that made you hide your face in your scarf and you hands in your jacket pockets.

You settled your headphones where they belonged, humming to the music to hold back the need to rant and rave against your chemistry teacher, when your phone dinged.

< henry li🫧: everything ok? saw you in lucifer’s office rn

< henry li🫧: did you do smth again? you cheekyyy 🙊

You gingerly laughed, and started typing out your answer, when, out of nowhere, you bumped against someone, making all of the books that they were carrying fall down of their grasp.

You pursed your lips, then pressed them in a thin line. Staring at their— his back, you saw that his backpack was almost empty. Why the fuck would he carry all of his books on his hands then?

The guy had quickly bent down to get his books back, and you followed too, taking your headphones off and quickly trying to prevent the papers from getting wet because of the floor, that was damp from the rain before, when your hands softly brushed against each other, still, you forced yourself to ignore it.

“I’m so…” the word dissapeared in your mouth.

“It’s ok, don’t… oh.” He blinked, his face showing nothing. For fuck’s sake.

Why did it always have to be him?

He swiftly took all of the things from you, as if your touch could be worse than the wet floor. You frowned, feeling a cold shiver trail up your spine, and you crossed your arms in front of you, struggling to seek some warmth.

“Watch it, little one.” He mocked with a light smirk. “I might accidentally step on you one day.”

You looked at him through your eyelashes. What. An. Idiot. You passed a hand through your hair, chuckling dryly.

“I-,” you sighed, shaking your head sideways. “Nah, you know what? I don’t have time for this crap.” You smiled at him widely, full of sarcasm.

But just when you were about to leave, you felt a tug at your sleeve, the fabric of your shirt not thick enough to hide the warmth of Seungmin’s grasp on your forearm. You frowned, confused at the lack of any uncomfortable feelings because of it. There was none, but rather a need to cover yourself with it and wear it like a jacket.

“Did you fix it?”

You blinked, trying to get your brain to focus on his words.

“Huh?”

He rolled his eyes, but his hand didn’t move an inch. “You said you were going to talk to Miss Fernández so we wouldn’t be partners, which is, well, so mature, congratulations,” he tsked, but then continued. “But did it work?”

You licked your lips and swallowed, your throat feeling dry. What was going on? You needed to focus.

In a harsh motion, you moved your arm away from his grasp. You forced yourself to ignore how your skin missed it.

“I… no. She settled. You- I mean… we…” the word felt awkward when it rolled off your tongue.

We? There was no such thing in between Seungmin and you. No we, no us, no nothing. And it was like that for a reason. One that you had almost forgotten with how softly his slender and warm hand had been holding your forearm. Ugh.

As you struggled to say those infamous words, your phone dinged again, and you mumbled a short “oh, wait,” and unlocked it.

< henry li🫧: leaving me on read, shortcake?

Seungmin stared at your phone, shoving his hands on his pockets when he saw you smile at the bright screen. He bit his lower lip. He hadn't taken all of his stuff out of his backpack just for this.

“So,” he licked his lips, and it almost shocked you the sudden roughness on his tone and demeanour. “Chemistry is easy. We can meet up on Friday in the public library. An hour or two should be enough, even for someone with a fun-sized brain like yours.” He chuckled meanly, the motherfucker.

Ever since that stupid text from him, you had made it your mission to surpass him, or at least reach his level, and to be honest, you were even succeding in some cases, like philosophy, art history, spanish, technical drawing and business studies. But Chemistry?

Chemistry would always kick you in the ass.

Before you were able to come up with a comeback for his stupid snicker, the bell rang, and you felt an arm laying its weight on your shoulders.

“Smallable!” Lucas laughed, then realized that you were talking to a certain someone and ful Ty ly gasped. “Oh my god. Are you two finally dating and I interrupted— AH!” He was interrupted by your elbow hitting his side. Noa and Atenea chuckled behind him.

“No. Seungmin was just leaving.” You huffed with a frown, but then you smiled, almost excessively, like a small maniac. “Right?”

But before he was able to reply or mock you, Atenea spoke, ruining your chances of kicking him away.

“But we all have English now,” she said, and if it had been someone else, like Lucas, you would’ve stepped on his shoe or something. “We’re going to the same place, we can go together.”

Seungmin felt you stare intensively at him. He smiled at Atenea, finding that he enjoyed having you look at him, reason why he loved annoying the shit out of you.

“Sure!” He smiled politely, almost sheepishly, and you bit your lip to hold back the need to scoff at his 'obviously fake' kindness.

Because except for you, the rest of your class —heck, probably the rest of the school— were smitten with Kim Seungmin.

Top of the class, funny, kind, and cutely introverted Kim Seungmin was just a dorky student who tried to get along with everyone.

But that was wrong. And you may not have any proof aside from his mean attitude towards you and only you, but you knew it.

Seungmin had to be more than just a pretty boy with high grades, and it was only with you that he proved you right.

You stayed next to Lucas, hoping that Seungmin would at least stay with your friends and ignore you.

But to your horror, he smiled at you, a pink dust on his cheeks. “If you don’t mind?”

Oh, son of a bitch.

“No… it’s whatever.” You huffed.

Because against his dorky self, to the rest of your class —heck, to the rest of the school— you were the quote on quote “bad student.”

Troublesome, mean, class clown? Check. You laughed at teachers in class with Lucas far more than what could be ignored, the dresscode had always been more of a guide in what to wear, unlike what most students usually followed, and you may have been expelled a bunch of times.

Even if you were somewhat kind to the people in school, and even if they all knew your rivalry with Seungmin, God forbid you were mean to him.

You wouldn’t see the end of it.

And he knew it.

Bitch.

So there you were, walking to English class with your friends plus innocent Seungmin —who no one had called, not even the ghostbusters—, who was snickering and giggling with Atenea about who-gives-a-shit. Something class-related. You couldn’t be bothered to listen.

Lucas chuckled next to you.

“Careful, Spongebob.” He laughed. “Some could say you seem jealous.”

…WHAT?!

“Of… of Kim Seungmin?” You snorted. “Are you on drugs?”

He ruffled your hair. “Sure, sure, keep lying to yourself, shortie.”

Finally, you arrived to class, but before you stepped inside, Seungmin stopped you, whispering in your ear.

“Yeah, shortie.” He teased, his lips almost grazing the shell of your ear. “Don’t be too jealous. We wouldn’t want everyone to know you love me.”

His whisper would’ve been almost enticing if it weren’t for the fact that it was Kim Seungmin the man in question, and he snickered, pushing his glasses back.

But then someone cleared his throat behind you two.

“Care to sit down? I don’t have all day.” Mister Holmes grunted, carrying a monster drink and a coffe at the same time.

That mas was slightly terryifing.

You squinted at Seungmin and then walked to your place at the back of the class, hoping that your cheeks felt warm because of how the teacher had startled you and definetely not your classmate’s honey-like voice.

“Pssst. Heeey,” Noa smiled teasingly, whispering with a smirk. “Pssst. You’re blushing…!”

“Shut up!” You frowned at her, but you were unable to hold back a smile. But it was because of your friend Noa. Not Kim Seungmin.

Mr Holmes cleared his throat, and finished off his monster, throwing it to the bin.

“So. I’ve been hearing from some students in the hallways that you’re all excited for saint valentines’ day.” He stated in a strong voice, one that filled the class with little to no effort. “And sadly so, I was thinking of putting an exam that Wednesday…” he faked a sigh, and you had to hold back a laugh, contrary to the frowns and groans that appeared in your classmates faces. Pfft, what a character. “Unless… you guys want to do something in true valentines fashion.”

Mr Holmes crossed his arms, laying back on his chair, his stare cold and face lacking any kind of emotions.

“Say… any ideas, Mr… Kim?”

Seungmin sat up straight at his name being mentioned, and you rolled your eyes, holding back a mocking smirk.

“I ugh… I wouldn’t want to bother my classmates with a lot of work, sir… but maybe… maybe a writing assingment related to the topic would be… enough?” Seungmin stated, his tone soft and shy, and there was even a blush that trailed up from his neck, but he stayed staight and firm as he spoke.

“A valentine-themed task.” Mr Holmes enunciated as he pondered. “It’s a… decent idea. Any complaints?”

You felt some of your classmates’ eyes on you, and you sighed, crossing your arms in front of you, remaining silent. As long as it wasn’t an exam, you’d accept whatever.

“With that settled, I’ll upload the task online this afternoon, but it’ll have to be written by hand. Be sure to hand in a picture of your assignment on time, or your final grade will be affected.” The teacher turned on his laptop, and started taking assistance.

[☆★🌷★☆]

Time had passed dreadfully slowly, until the bell rang and Mr Holmes dissmissed all of you so everyone could leave for the day.

“A valentine-themed task.” You huffed in annoyance as you stuffed your locker with books you weren’t going to take home.

“I thought it was original.” A voice snickered lowly behind you, and you slapped your locker close, smiling at him.

“Well, Henry. It’s no surprise your taste sucks.”

You chuckled when he rolled his eyes.

“I was waiting for your reply,” he mentioned with a soft tone.

You closed your locker, and you two started walking together. “Oh, sorry, I totally forgot,” you apologized with a smile, but he brushed it off. “Yeah, I was with Lucifer earlier. She’s making me work with Seungmin for this term’s assignments.”

Henry frowned. “And we hate that guy… right…” you chuckled.

“Exactly. We don’t like him.”

“So then, don’t do it. You were going to meet him to study, right?” You nodded, smirking slightly at him.

“We agreeded to meet on Friday to start, in the library.” You added, watching his smirk widen. “What are you thinking?”

He stopped walking, smiling at you. “There’s this club that opened recently. Been wanting to go have a look. Apparently, it’s like exclusive and shit. And it’s Friday.” His light-coloured eyes shined as he looked at you. “Meet me there?”

You grinned cheekily.

“Sure. Can’t wait.”

[☆★🌷★☆]

You hadn’t noticed Seungmin on the school bus until this year.

Because he had made himself noticeable, sitting at the back of the bus, a couple seats away from you, but oh, dorky Seungmin was always friend of everyone, sheepishly starting conversation with any kinds of people in the bus, no matter the year they were in.

Before his text, you had even thought he was cute as he gingerly chatted with a group of kids who were probably starting high school.

“Is it too difficult?” A little girl asked.

And it surprised you how he turned to her and smiled, almost tugging at your heart strings, eyes like crescent moons.

“It’s only difficult if you stop trying. And we don’t give up, right?” He stated cheerfuly, and all the kids shined at his sheepish and bashful brightness, high-fiving the girl that talked to him.

You forced yourself to shove those memories to the back of your mind. That Seungmin wasn’t real. And you didn’t like him. The real him. Right?

“Oi, Kim Seungmin.” You called, as it was only you two left on the bus.

He was surprised at your call, but only side-eyed at you, lazily raising his brows, signalling that he was listening. You frowned.

See? You thought to yourself. He’s mean. He isn’t sweet, nor cute. Focus.

“What kind of lame ass idea was that?” You huffed with a mean smile. “A valentine-themed assignment.” You snorted.

His bus stop was close, so he ignored you as he picked up his coat and backpack, but you kept on talking. “You know? Hallmark office called, they want their boring clichés back,” you mocked, laughing.

Backpack on and coat hanging on his arm, he stared at you, and waited for a red light to walk to your seat.

He settled next to you, still staring at you as you chimed mean remarks about his originality and such and such.

“Anything else to mumble? I couldn’t hear you from down there.” He snorted meanly, and you were too focused on annoying him that you didn’t notice his stare at your lips as he licked his own.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re such a lame guy. He gave you the chance to choose, and you chose that piece of—?!”

His lips tasted as sweet as his voice that day with those little kids.

You felt his hand slowly creep up and cradle your face, his eyes closed as he kissed you, and slowly, your eyes closed too.

It was sweet. So sweet. But what was it? It was a flavour that you knew. Its sweetness was so familiar, but you couldn’t seem to figure out what was it.

You kissed him back, and he let out a surprised whine as you sighed, your hands, which had been frozen on his shoulders, waiting for your order to push him away, slowly followed up and remained on his face, your thumbs almost stroking his cheeks.

You wanted needed to know what he tasted like.

But it was when your hands went into his hair that he sighed too, melting under your touch, that your brain clicked.

…

what were you doing?

…

WHAT WERE YOU DOING?!

You pushed him away, and your breath hitched.

He didn’t look like fake Seungmin.

In front of you was not the innocent boy who had straight A’s and was shy enough to not be able to say no to a lot of things, who sheepishly spoke up in class, or who treated everyone with a bashful kindness that was so endearing.

This Seungmin was different. His glasses had a bit of a fog in them, his hair was all messed up, and his lips were plush, pink from your tinted gloss and slightly swollen from your kiss.

This Seungmin was a wreck, all flustered and kissable, and he looked like a mess.

But it felt real.

And for a second, you wanted to kiss him again, yearning to figure what that kiss tasted like, the word for it almost in the tip of your tongue.

He panted, struggling to catch his breath.

“Finally,” he huffed with a smile, but his dark eyes didn’t match the mocking in his tone. A small part of your mind thought that they looked prettier than any light eyes you had ever seen. “So you were able to shut up, after all.” He gulped, still panting.

He moved away from you slowly, as you remained there, frozen, like a piece of art in front of him, cheeks blushed, lips flushed and parted as your eyes stared at him, an emotion much different from this evening.

He found himself enjoying this one even more.

“Eh… T-this is my bus stop.” He muttered when the bus stopped. Maybe it wasn’t, but he didn’t care. He felt like he would have the energy to run home if needed. “I-I’ll… see you tomorrow.”

You blinked as he stood up and walked away.

What…

What had just happened?

[☆★🌷★☆]

{ACT 2: UNDER THE STREETLIGHT}

After avoiding Seungmin like the plague all Thursday, only looking at his back when you zoned off in class, Friday arrived earlier than expected.

You hadn’t been able to concentrate at all, the thought of his sweet taste lingering in your mouth, almost letting you feel the ghost of his lips pressed against yours.

“Hello? Earth to… oh, you’re awake, Jesus.” Abril looked at you with a smile, but she was unable to hide her worried look.

“Of course I am,” you mumbled, shaking your head sideways. “What’s going on?”

“You haven’t even touched your delicious and totally-not-overcooked pasta.” Lara mentioned the cafeteria lunch as she poked it whith her fork, full of humour. “It leads to believe that you’re dealing with something far more interesting that the technical drawing homework, that’s for sure.”

You bit your lip, hesitating.

“Is it because Henry Li has been ignoring you?” Noa mentioned softly.

You blinked, puzzled. “Huh?”

He’d been ignoring you? Now that she had mentioned, maybe that could’ve happened. Maybe you would’ve realized if you hadn’t been so focused on Seungmin and whatever-happened-that-cannot-and-should-not-be-remembered-every-five-minutes…

…or maybe you should look for an easier name for it.

“Uh, no, he invited me to this new place today, actually,” you brushed your hair with your hand mindlessly. “But I’m fine. Really. Just tired.” You smiled at the girls, and joined in at their conversation.

After lunch, you separated from Lara and Noa, who had literature, and Abril, who had been hanging out with a guy called Jeongin from her photography club recently, and so you headed to the study room.

It was a quiet place, quieter that what you had initially expected for a high school study room. Matter of fact, you thought it was a pity that the school closed it after class, considering that in that case you wouldn’t have to walk to the public library.

You opened the door silently, finding that there were barely any students, only three or four people studying silently. You were heading towards a lonely corner so you could listen to music in a high volume without having to pay attention if it could be heard through your headphones. Or maybe, considering that it hadn’t been a lie and that you had slept like four hours maximum, you could probably rest there until the bell rang.

You snickered when you looked to your right, finding someone struggling with the technical drawing homework that had been assigned that morning, the one that Lara and Noa had been talking about.

You gently tapped the guy’s shoulder, but spoke before he even turned.

“You’re missing this incline here,” you whispered on his ear, your arms coming above his shoulders, placing your hands above his, placing the square and bevel on the right angle. “It should be seen, but with dotted lines, get it? That way the side-view makes sense.” You added with a soft giggle.

“Oh, right. T-thank you…” he mumbled, not facing you.

You brushed it off as weird, but your sleepy self wasn’t bothered enough to notice or pry, and instead smiled, ruffled his hair and settled in your cozy little corner, placing your scarf in between your arms and rested your head on it, merely “resting your eyes”, but only if a teacher happened to come and check on the students.

Seungmin stared at your sleeping figure, eyes almost wide. He felt like his heart was going to explode underneath the layers of flesh. His hands tingled, his usually warm and sweaty palms missing the comfortable coldness of yours, so soothing and relaxing.

Either you had completely gone crazy, or he had fallen asleep trying to complete the stupid assignment. He knew you were good at technical drawing, it was one of the subjects were he wasn’t. It wasn’t a surprise when several students started asking you for help on their papers and assignments, considering that you were one of the few who was able to receive praise from the teacher, a middle-aged man with no kind of vocation with kids or teaching, by any means.

But it had never happened when he was the one in need of help, had you ever considered the idea of helping him.

He watched you, puzzled, as he had never done before, and maybe it would be the first time of many because Seungmin found himself liking what he was seeing, dare I say mesmerized by the image before him.

By you.

Your sleepy figure was as calm as he had ever seen from you, sleeping with little to no care in the world. Your hair remained stuck in a ponytail, which allowed Seungmin to notice that it left the skin of your neck visible, and despite the voice on his head saying that it was a behaviour quite like a man from the Modern Ages, just being so fixated at that small bit of skin, he couldn’t help but feel bashfully amazed.

Suddenly, he noticed you licked your lips, your eyes still closed and your small smile never faltering, but that made something start to flutter in his stomach, as if a whole lot of butterflies had been awaken at the sight of you, tranquil, and sweet, and cute, and he forced himself to stop looking at you abruptly, wondering why he had done that in the first place.

Licking your lips only made Seungmin aware of how dry his were, and action plus the thought of your lips immediately brought back what had happened on Wednesday.

Crazy. He’d gone completely crazy.

He felt his hand slowly approach his lips and he grazed them with his fingers, almost able to taste your chapstick back on his lips. Because he had been able. All Wednesday night. And a small part of him wanted more of it.

He blushed, scratching his eyes. He hadn’t slept shit, his mind betraying him every time he attempted to close his eyes instantly going back to the memory of how you stared at him after your kiss, dark pupils, and red lips, and so ridiculously gorgeous that it made Seungmin wonder why whenever he saw you he resorted to his first line in code: being mean.

He never used that side with anyone. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried, because small, teasing and slightly unhinged Kim Seungmin had tried to be himself in middle school, and… well.

Let’s just say that it didn’t work like expected.

But everyone loved dorky, funny and sweet Seungmin. Even with the difference with grades, that had definetely not been appreciated in his early years, nowadays people would see that as a part of him, and he recieved praise for it, not only from teachers, but also nice classmates, who sometimes went to seek help from him.

He just needed to pretend for a bit. Smile here and there, and put on a sheepish act of bashfulness that despite it not being natural, it wasn’t totally bad. It wasn’t like middle school.

But then you came in the picture.

Something about you made Seungmin want to tease you. To see you finally look at him after battling in your head if you even should, and then, sometimes when you were mad enough, you’d glare at him, and he couldn’t help but grin. Your cheeks flushed in anger that creeped up your body, how you looked at him through your lashes or how you’d tease him back. The first time you had done that, his brain’s chemistry had changed, he was sure of that.

He didn’t care about the mean remarks, and that now seemed almost obvious, considering what had happened almost two days ago in the school bus.

But it got impossible to miss when Seungmin noticed your sleepy self shivering in your slumber. With a mental groan, careful of not making any kind of loud noise in the study room, he slowly got closer to your corner, and tried to close the windows near it. And failed, because the stupid windows were old and rusty, only able to move them a bit.

He bit his lip, arguing in his head. Would that be enough? No, it probably wasn’t, right? Yeah, it couldn’t be. Considering that you always wore thin clothing, always borrowing your mates’ jackets…

…it couldn’t possibly hurt to do a bit more, right?

Seungmin approached you further, and shook a hand close to your face, but you were dead, as still as a fallen tree, despite the sunlight that enetered throught the windows glowing on your face, the Sun in winter, that brought little to no warmth, made you shine in his eyes.

He’d see you in the public library a couple of hours later. It didn’t mean anything. He could probably tease you for sleeping in school later. Yeah. And then he’d ask for his jacket back.

Seungmin was lost in his thoughts as he carefully settled his jacket over your shoulders, and he froze when you sighed deeply, surrounded by a familiar warmth and a cozy scent that you didn’t know you had missed or needed until then, but you didn’t wake up.

He blinked when he noticed your phone in your hand, the screen suddenly turning on. He giggled at your wallpaper, which had a silly joke on it and a funny doodle of a banana.

But then his eyes trailed down to the notification that had made the phone turn on.

[3 new messages from: henry li🫧]

> sorry i didn’t get to see u yesterday, had to sort smth out!

> guys.its.totally.a.real.address.wdym.lol

> it’s the address for later, shortcake 😉❤️

…huh?

Seungmin blinked once. Twice. Nah, his glasses had to be deceiving him. Then, another notification popped up.

> can’t wait to see you ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

He winced silently.

Ugh. What a cringy choice of emojis.

Did you really like this guy?

He frowned, going back to his place in the study room.

Ugh.

He didn’t care, obviously. Why would he care? That wasn’t his business. Never was, never would be. Not like he was interested. Pffft, no. Not at all. Yeah, nah. That kiss had been a one time thing. Totally. 100%. He wasn’t thinking about it again. Nope. Nor did he want to kiss you again. Not in a chance.

Just… ugh.

It was just that… no. Scratch that. No further comments.

He sighed as he went back to his work, feeling a sudden inspiration hit him as he took out a blank paper for the English class valentine’s assignment, but not before he looked at you again, then shook his head, turning the music back on in his headphones. He started writing, drafting, and throwing papers away, getting slightly desperate at his perfectionism.

He sighed. His eyes trailed off towards you.

Slowly, words started to flow in his head. Pretty sentences, things that he had kept hidden in the back of his mind. Maybe it could be good to let it all out. It couldn’t hurt. Yeah.

So he stared writing. Vomiting word after word. And he finished earlier than expected, with two papers.

One was perfect for the english assignment. It was boring and dull enough to be handed in for a school work, but good enough for his perfectionism.

And the other… was something different.

Something that had only happened because you were there, in front of him.

He stood up, letter on his hand. He leaned against the table you were sleeping in, and settled the jacket further on your shoulders. He sighed, grabbing a pen from his pencil case, folding the letter and signed it.

Maybe it was a bad idea, he thought as he picked up his stuff from the table and adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

He looked at your figure once more before heading out.

It had been to check if you were still asleep, of course.

Just to check.

Yeah.

[☆★🌷★☆]

Your phone vibrated in your hand again.

And again.

With a groan, you silently accepted that there was no way you could fool an inanimate object into believing that you were still asleep.

But when you yawned and looked around and didn’t find the posters in your room, but rather a whole bunch of tables and chairs, your eyes widened.

It hadn’t been your alarm but a phone call that had awoken you.

“Y-yeah?” You mumbled, picking up the call and quickly taking your backpack and scarf and rushing out of the study room, taking a quick scan and making sure you weren’t leaving anything behind.

“I’m heading to the club now, shortcake.” A low voice greeted. “Are you getting ready?”

Who…?

“H-henry?” You frowned slightly.

You heard him snicker through the other side. “Yeah?”

Fuck, shit, fuck.

“N-nothing! Nothing, I, uh, I was just doing my make up. Y-you know.”

What? You frowned, even more this time. No, that didn’t make any sense. You always blabbered about how you never did your make up for clubbing because the one you owned was cheap and never stayed on anyways.

“Sure, yeah.”

It didn’t seem like he had noticed.

“You can head there before me. I’ll go there eventually, yeah?”

You heard him snicker on the other side of the phone call. “Ok, baby.” He cleared his throat, stuttering a bit. “Y-yeah, I mean, I’ll uh… get there in a bit. Don’t rush.”

Only then you felt that the wind from outside wasn’t freezing your bones like usual. You squinted at the jacket you were wearing.

“Henry, did you…?” But he hung up.

It probably was him. Yeah. That’s why he had called you. To make sure you’d wake up.

Besides, there were little to no people who’d do such a kind gesture towards you, and even if the jacket was pretty much your style and it smelled like heaven, it didn’t feel like something any of the girls would keep around.

So, why didn’t it made you feel giddy that Henry had given you his jacket?

You kept on running through the hallways and catched the bus that was usually there for students who had extracurricular classes, unlucky people who had to stay in school late in Fridays. You never had, using Fridays to be a bit lazy or to start homework sooner just to hand it in earlier than Seungmin.

Oh.

Friday.

Seungmin.

The library.

You bit your nails, staring through the window.

Would he wait there for long?

What was he going to do once he figured you weren’t going to show up?

Were you… feeling guilty?

No… that… that couldn’t be, you chuckled dryly. Mean decisions against Kim Seungmin didn’t spend too much time on the judgmental side of your brain. You just… teased him back. And he’d take it. And double it. And so on.

So why did this feel too mean?

Could it be because of whatever-happened-that-cannot-and-should-not-be-remembered-every-five-minutes?

Could the fact that it had been the best thing that had happened in a long while?

Well, fine.

Not just ‘thing’.

A kiss.

And for fuck’s sake, what kiss.

You groaned and grunted, sprinting home as soon as the bus stopped.

Why did it always have to be him?

You entered your room and burst open your closet. The jacket was cool, you thought. And if you were going to see Henry, you could just wear it and hand it back to him in the club.

It was vintage, but its warmth engulfed you as if it had been handmade. Its funky designs and patterns looked cute, and its grey color contrasted well with it. You chose the first dress you saw, a tight black dress with no sleeves that you would’ve discarded as too short if you had more time, but it wasn’t exactly something you could’ve bragged about.

Jacket, dress, high socks, boots, wallet, phone, keys, headphones… yeah. You nodded, checking all of the boxes in your mental list, and started hurriedly walking to the address he had sent.

You hoped you weren’t going to be too late.

[☆★🌷★☆]

“Pick up, pick up, pick up…”

“The number you are trying to call is turned off or out of coverage. Please, leave your message after the—”

You hang up, tired of hearing that mechanic voice over and over again.

You looked around you, and there was nothing that looked like a club. You had tried to enter the building that the address lead to, but it hadn’t got well.

A strange figure opened a small window and gave you a look, almost disgusted. It took you a second to understand that they were wearing a mask, with dark lace and other colours. But just when you were about to speak, the window slammed close.

You blinked, puzzled. Where the fuck was Henry sending you? What kind of club was this?

You had started to roam around the building, trying to call him —and failing misserably, because the damn guy couldn’t pick up the fucking phone for the life of him—, but now you were starting to run out of ideas.

It was past 12pm, your legs shivered with every slight wind that swooshed your way, and there was no one that was going to pick up the phone. Not Henry, that ridiculous imbecile, not Lucas, who always bragged about having his phone in night mode, so nothing would get to him until morning, and not the girls, because Noa had her phone turned off, Atenea was most likely sleeping, Abril and Lara hadn’t picked up either, and your list of close friends who could possibly pick up was… that.

And no one was picking up the fucking phone.

You were about to keep on ranting about how disgustingly bad this was turning out to be, but you heard footsteps coming your way. You looked around, but didn’t find the source. With a frown, you walked to the building again

Placing your hand on one of the windows, who were dark and almost impossible to see through, you could notice that in the dim light from what could be seen outside, Henry was well entertained with a certain kind of company, so much that he couldn’t even pick up your phone.

You closed your eyes and leaned your forehead against the tinted glass. Of course. Yeah. That made total sense. It was Henry, after all. He had always been known to be kind of an asshole anyways. It couldn’t possibly come out as a surprise the fact that he actually was.

You shook your head and mentally mocked him and the blond girl he was kissing.

Henry Li could go to Hell.

Guess there was nothing left to do now. You had dumped Seungmin, and Henry had dumped you. It was an ass move over an ass move. Maybe you kinda deserved it.

But then your thoughts ended in a halt, because you swore you could feel a shadow starting to follow you from a distance.

They were behind you, but not too close, and due to their hoodie it was imposible to distinguish their face.

So you started walking. Turning left. Right. Left again. Right. Just kept on walking. Don’t look behind you. They’d probably just leave. This had to be your imagination, 100%.

But when you took a peak, the silhouette was not only still behind you, slowly walking towards you, but a slight bit closer this time.

You swallowed dry, gulped, even. Your heart tightened in your chest. What kind of joke was this? Your eyes were tearing up. You were tired, and this was mental. Adrenaline rumped through your body, and even if you were already lost, you kept on walking.

You took your phone from your pocket. Think, think, think. Who could you call? Who could pick up at one am? You scrolled down your list of contacts, until for a reason you don’t fully get, your eyes stopped at a certain name.

—> seungmeannie

It couldn’t possibly hurt to try… right?

You sniffed almost silently, and pressed call.

One beep.

Two beeps.

Three beeps.

You started crying a bit louder, unable to hold it back.

“Eh, hi…?”

“S-seungmin!” You sobbed, smiling. It was the first time in your life you had been that happy just from being able to hear his voice, raspy and low.

“W-what?” He stopped talking, and you guessed that it was because he hadn’t figured out who was calling him so late at night. “Do you know what time it is, you fun-sized dingus?” He groaned sleepily at the phone.

You bit your lip and sniffed.

“Wait. Are you… crying?” His tone had changed.

“I-i’m sorry about t-this eve-ening.” You sobbed, failing to hold back the tears, hugging the jacket that was still on your shoulders.

“Are you drunk, little one?” You never thought your shoulders could relax as fast as they had when his soft tone of voice called you that stupid nickname.

“N-no, I… I went to this stupid club, with-“

“With Henry, yeah.” The way he said his name, as if he wanted to put that stupid bitch in a box and send him to the end of the world took you by surprise.

“B-but um, he’s not picking up my phone and I…” you gulped. Taking a peek behind you, you shivered. “I think someone’s following me.”

“Wait, what?” Seungmin had never stood up from bed as fast as he had done that night. “Where are you?” He asked to the phone as he randomly picked a sweater and his glasses, biting his lip as he struggled to put on his shoes.

“I… I don’t know.�� You sobbed. “I started walking away so he’d go, but it didn’t work.” You mumbled, sniffing. You felt so stupid.

“Everything’s going to be fine, yeah?” It was the first time in the whole afternoon that you felt like that statement could be true. Because Seungmin was going to help you. “Don’t hang up. Tell me what buildings can you see. Try heading away from small alleys. I’ll find you.”

Seungmin rushed out of his appartment, not before scribbling down what was happening in a post it note and left it on his mother’s bedside table.

“T-there are some restaurants, but they’re all closed.” You started, dubious as how was this going to work. “There’s a road to my left.”

“Can you name any of the restaurants, little one?” Seungmin had a hunch, and he huffed, sprinting to the plaza closest to his appartment.

“I just passed by a Mexican, I think.” You sniffed, Seungmin’s soothing voice working like a charm and calming you down slowly. “In front of me, I think this is a Japanese… it’s called Ginza.”

Seungmin chuckled, feeling relief flooding his body. “Y-yeah, ok! I- god, yes, I know where you are. Keep walking straight ahead. There should be a park, right?” He started running, hiding the fact that he’d have to rush and make the usual fifteen minutes it could take him to arrive where you were and make them five.

He needed to see you and make sure you were safe.

“I… shit, yeah! I can see it!” You went back to crying, a smile planted in your features.

“I’m almost there. You’re doing so well, little one.”

You felt your cheeks getting warmer at that. Walking a bit faster, you looked behind you, finding that the silhouette was still there.

But Seungmin was close. Seungmin said everything would be fine.

“S-seungmin?” You mumbled at the phone, wanting to hear his voice, so soothing and warm.

“Under the streetlight, silly.”

You heard the beep that sounded when Seungmin ended the call, but he was there, tangible, a couple of meters away from you.

You chuckled, happy to see him for the first time ever, and crying away the pent up stress and worry, you ran off to him, and clung your arms around his neck tightly, unbothered at the need to stand on the tips of your toes to do so.

Seungmin stuttered, still panting from the marathon he had ran to get there, 100% baffled at this. But it was ok. You were there. You were safe.

“T-they’re still behind me.” You whispered against his chest.

He could feel your nervousness on your tone, how scared you were judging by how strongly your arms closed behind his neck, and hesitated for a second before hugging you back, his arms pulling you closer by your lower back, keeping you grounded and so weirdly safe in his grasp, and it felt so strangely comforting coming from him that your eyes swelled with more tears.

You couldn’t see or feel the person behind you anymore, but Seungmin did, somewhat clearly.

The only thing that his mind made up that moment is that for the person to leave, they’d have to believe you two did know each other.

And Seungmin’s heart beated loudly in his chest when your grasp loosened and you stood back on your feet, allowing him to see how your lip trembled, how you were holding back tears and how you looked at him with a million emotions hidden in the colour of your eyes. He had never seen you cry before.

His hands itched to touch you again, a sudden need to comfort you that overwhelmed him.

So he did.

His hands cradled your cheeks, his thumbs brushing away your tears, and he pecked your lips softly, smiling at your baffled face. His arms engulfed you in a comforting hug that smelled so much like the jacket you were wearing.

He looked behind you, and the silhouette was nowhere to be found. As if it had never been there before.

“It’s ok.” Seungmin whispered in your ear. “I’m here now. You’re safe. They’re gone, yeah?” His arms rested on your shoulders as his slender hands stroked your hair. “No one’s gonna hurt you now, pretty.”

And you started to cry on his shoulder, because not only then you realized how bad you had needed a hug, and not even the fact that it had been a hug from him that you had secretly yearned for, but because none of your excuses made sense now.

There was no ‘fake’ or ‘real’ Seungmin.

Whatever he was, fake or not, stood in front of you as he hugged you under the streetlight.

And you sighed as he cooed at you softly, because deep down you had known for a while.

It was time you came to terms with it.

[☆★🌷★☆]

{ACT 3: WINDOWS, LETTERS AND POEMS}

Wednesday. 9:56 am. 14th February.

Most of your classmates were still arriving from their next class as you stared at two papers in your hands slightly from afar, pencil in your lips.

You had discarded most of your creations all Monday and Tuesday when you finally ended with a draft you liked for the stupid english homework. It was nothing out of the ordinary.

But the letter in your other hand, however, was something you had never done before.

“What’s that you got there?”

Any kind of bubbly and nervous emption you had vanished at the sound of that low voice.

“Fuck off, Li.” You grunted in a husky tone, frowning at him and grabbing back the letter from his hands.

“Is it a love letter for me?” He chuckled, ignoring your behaviour.

“Why the fuck would I write that, huh?” You laughed, a chuckle full of acid, one that had much more hatred that you had ever said before.

Henry brushed a hand through his hair, and you couldn’t help but think he looked stupid. You had liked this guy? Ugh.

“Because today is valentine’s day, shortcake.”

You squinted and frowned at him.

“Swishing those dyed and damaged locks like a Loreal advert won’t make anyone fall in love with you.” You snorted, and realized the people in the hallway had fallen into silence, listening to your conversation. “Or maybe it worked with that blond girl in the club?” You pretended to ponder out loud, leaning against the locker behind you, facing him with confidence.

“Wait, what?” He mumbled.

You snickered, taking him by surprise. “Oh, silly. I was never going to date you. I kept hearing that you were an ass and figured that was right, because aside from me, little to no people talked to you. I guess I just felt pityful.” You faked a pout.

He clenched his fists, his shoulders tense.

“You’re lying.” He grunted.

You chuckled. “You wish I was. That blond girl didn’t steal my man. She stole my problem.” You heard some gasps from the people in the corridor, as they had formed some kind of circle around you two.

But then, Henry snorted, and cleared his throat, talking with a much louder voice. “So you’re not going to let everyone know about you and Seungmin?” He smirked. “I feel like that’s a bit unfair. Making it seem like I’m the bad guy and all.”

You tried hard to make it seem like that hadn’t surprised you. You were so surprised by it that you didn’t have time to react when he yanked your letter from your hand.

“Such sweet words, all dedicated to him,” he mocked. “I think these people want to know.”

“Give it back!” You clenched your jaw, your eyes dull with embarassment.

Even if he wasn’t as tall as Seungmin, there was still a decent difference between you and him. And with a sly grin, he raised the paper above your head.

You licked your lips, anger filling your body.

“Give. It. Back.”

But then he started reading.

“I looked at him as if he were the Sun, in that I never looked at him except in frustration.” He read out loud, moving the paper from your reach everytime you tried to reach. “I seeked his warmth, I complained when he was gone, but I never looked, not until I noticed he was leaving, and in the beauty of the sunset, I wondered how I had never seen him before.”

You stared at the floor, a blush spreading through your cheeks, coming from your neck.

“And that’s basically what happened.” You mumbled to Abril and Lucas over at a bench in the school grounds, hours after that whole thing had happened.

“What?!” You flinched at Abril’s loud voice. “I’m going to kill him. I am so going to murder that nasty ass bitch.” She threatened to stand up, but Lucas grabbed her forearm.

“And what about Seungmin?” He questioned softly, a lot more gentle that what you usually would expect.

You felt heat rush to your cheeks.

“I haven’t spoken to him since Friday” You stared at him with a weakness you had never felt before. “It’s like he doesn’t want to talk to me, I…” you sighed. “I don’t know what to think anymore.” You sniffed.

You had to stay in the study room for the afternoon, waiting for Atenea to get out of the club she was in so you could head to the library together like you had promised, but as you studied in silence, someone sat in the chair in front of you, frowning at you.

You took your headphones off and scratched your eyes. “Eh… Hyunjin?”

“Abril told Lara and she told me,” he mentioned in a huff. “And I’ve known Seungmin for many years. He’s not an impulsive guy. He hasn’t treated anyone like how he treats you.”

You blinked, puzzled, but frowned at him. “Are you going to scold me?”

“You better believe I am!” He scoffed. “Would you like me to politely tell you that you’ve behaved like a total idiot around him?”

“What are you—?!”

“You simply never bothered to talk to Seungmin about any of what Lara told me!” He stated with force, and you didn’t think to tell him to shut up, considering that the study room was empty that time.

“Do you really expect me to understand whatever was happening and tell him right away?” You blurted out with anger, a bit shocked at his rough approach. “Had I had the opportunity I would have!

He rolled his eyes, passing a hand over his face in a sign of desperation.

“You had every opportunity! For months!” He left his hand on the table, and started tapping at it with force, trying to make a point. “Admit it. Seungmin has been in your head ever since we both changed from the other class and you two started bickering.” Hyunjin’s eyes stared at you with a fierce glare that almost threatened to pierce holes through your skull.

“That’s bullshit!” You spitted out defensively.

“Oh, spare me!” He brushed it off. “There have been countless clues! Your stupid need to make everything a competition when it comes to him is infuriating. He talks to me about these things, you know?” He swallowed, and you leaned back in surprise, but he kept on going. “How you look at him when you’re angry, or how you mock and tease him back. It’s stupid!” He cursed out loud. “And these last two weeks have only made it so much worse.”

“What do you mean, worse?” You pondered softly, slowly taking in Hyunjin’s dramatic act.

“I mean, you were totally smitten by how he ridiculously kissed you at the back of the bus last week, considering that you kissed him back.” He stated clearly. “And he wouldn’t shut up about it and how you were ignoring him after, which, great fucking work, by the way, the dude wouldn’t shut up about you.” Hyunjin blinked slowly, trying to recall and voice what he was thinking. “And then he lends you his jacket when a mystery debutant shows up.”

“A—a what?”

“Motherfucker, eh, that Henry asshole.” Hyunjin rubbed his eyes. “I had to endure him talking shit about him for an hour because he saw him texting you some weird shit with cringe emojis.” The exasperation on his tone rendered you almost speechless. “And even then he struggled to admit how fucking jealous he was about that guy. He had your attention. He had your smile. You looked at Henry, not at Seungmin, and ah, for fuck’s sake.” Hyunjin covered his face with his hands. “He felt so ridiculously powerless that he talked to me about it. He’s never done that before!”

You were only able to blink, struggling to grasp everything he was saying.

“And then, with no word of warning, you called him, at, what, like, one in the morning?” Hyunjin said in a huff, the thought of that bringing back his anger, making him stare at you with a frown again. “He, jesus, he talked for AGES about how you hugged him, and the fact that you were wearing his jacket, like— like you’re doing now, what the fuck.” He stopped mid-scolding, staring at you with confusion.

“It’s… it’s his?”

Hyunjin’s eyes widened slightly as he nodded. “What, you didn’t know? You helped him with tecnical drawing, he gave you his jacket, bla bla bla. That whole thing?”

You blushed, shaking your head sideways. You had done what?

“Nevermind. You can talk to him about that later.”

It was your turn to scoff now. “Judging by the fact that he sent you, I don’t think he would like to see me anytime soon.”

Hyunjin chuckled dryly.

“Don’t you even dare keep ignoring him. This stupid game has lasted for too long. Besides, he doesn’t know I’m here. He thinks I’m in dance practice, but whatever. You needed to know, because he’s a mess.” Hyunjin stated, passing a hand through his hair. “He can’t sleep well, he can’t concentrate, he can’t do anything.”

It looked like the scolding was over, but there was a remaining anger that came back to him as a memory struck.

“And, moreover, you callously ignored the letter Seungmin wrote you, even though he told you he loved you!”

You were looking at your notebook on the table, halfly staring at your nails and fidgeting with them, but your head almost snapped when you stared at him.

“What letter?” You muttered, your eyes locked on his. He frowned, his eyes slightly widening.

Your heart started beating faster, almost so loud you could hear it in your head.

“Hyunjin, what letter?!”

[☆★🌷★☆]

Seungmin felt his lungs on fire.

Run, run, run.

His feet were hurting, because his old ass shoes were busted enough that their insides were almost destroyed from everyday use.

But he needed to find you.

Maybe it was because it was Valentine’s day, despite the obvious influence that a certain friend of yours had done.

“Wait, you— you missed school this morning?” Lucas had muttered with a puzzled look, eyes wide.

“I had to go to the dentist to take my braces off. Yeah.” Seungmin stated again. “So whatever you meant by ‘being an ignoring bitch this morning’, I know nothing about it.”

And then someone next to them had chimed in. “You’re talking about Henry and what happened this morning with—“

“Yeah. Why?” Seungmin had interrupted, frowning slightly.

“There’s a video of it.”

Run, run, run.

The look in your eyes when you spoke with Henry. Your smug smile when you caught him by surprise.

Your poem.

His eyes had widened when Henry started reading it in the video.

Was it…?

Could it…?

Could it really be for him?

He wanted needed to find out.

He needed to find you.

“Watch where you’re going!” A man grunted at him, and Seungmin quickly apologized, running off.

Run, run, run.

He knew where you lived just because of Friday, when you had asked him if he could head towards your house with you, still a bit scared from what had happened. He accepted in a heartbeat, reassuring you that it was fine with a million smiles.

His hand had never left yours. Your touch, colder than his, had something so adicting to it that he didn’t want to let go.

Time seemed to pass slowlier when he recognized your neighbourhood. He was about to ring on your floor, but then, your silhouette got out of the elevators, and you both blinked at each other, staring through the glass door.

You opened it slowly, approaching him.

The look in your eyes was different than what Seungmin was used to.

It wasn’t similar to how you had looked at him ever since the school year started, with a shimmer of anger that turned your cheeks pink. Or how you had looked at him that afternoon in the back of the school bus, pupils dark and lips red and slightly swollen from kissing. Or how your eyes glowed in hope and comfort that Friday night.

It was different. He wanted to savour it. He wanted to see every detail of it.

He walked towards you and cradled your face in his hands.

“Wait.” He muttered in a whisper, taking off his glasses in a movement that to you felt almost enticing.

“What is it?” You whispered back.

He blinked at you as he cleaned his glasses with the hem of his shirt.

“You’re fucking blurry.” He snickered softly, with a sheepish smile that tinted his cheeks pink.

You giggled.

He settled his glasses back in place, and smiled when your image made sense before him.

“Better.” He muttered.

“Seungmin, I—“

But you stopped speaking when his lips crashed against yours.

There it was. He tasted sweet like how hot chocolate tastes in a rainy day. You smiled at your discovery, wanting to taste it for hours.

He wanted to kiss you for days to come, even if there was a million things left for both of you to say.

“I’m sorry.” Kiss. “I wasn’t in school this morning.” Kiss. “But I saw a video of it.” Kiss. “And I needed to—“

You giggled, taking his glasses and settling them on the top of his head.

“We can do the talking later.” You smiled, your cheeks red as your hands grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.

“Are you sure?” He gulped, blushing too as he mumbled.

“Yeah.” You smiled even more. “I’d rather do the kissing now.”

You'd never know what happened with his letter. But considering where that had lead you, maybe it wasn't totally bad that the wind had carried it out the window.

[☆★🌷★☆]

~Kats, who, believe it or not, took the text argument in the beginning from an old school groupchat (yes i was the target akbdksbdks idk why lol, but no, i did not have an enemies2lovers :( lmao)

HAPPY FUCKING VALENTINES DAY!

TAGGING! (oh wow) @that-crazy-five-foot-two-chick @deadcrow-donteat @obyyyy @euphoric-univers @aslou @19marka @daisyjihannie @im-loco66 @coolbabydumplings @amarecerasus @sharonxdevi @han-to-my-minho @abbiespooks @moon0fthenight @koala-wonderland @hecrtful @hheesungsung @vampcharxter @kpopandblunts @daisy-dont-play @skz-lover21 @skyl1nninie @lunathewonyoungstan @5starlee @pchyyhoe @4ln-stay8 @michelle4eve (bolded and/or purple means it won’t let me tag you, pookies! please check your blog’s privacy settings <3)

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badomensbaby · 2 months

Text

above the law. lrh

pairing: luke hemmings x fem! reader

summary: luke's so sick of his assistant, you, talking all the damn time. he finally does something about it.

warnings: 18+ only. minors DNI. smut, thigh-riding, unprotected sex, verbal degradation, rough bj, slightly dubious consent, office sex, cum-swallowing, cursing.

word count: 4,173

a/n: i wrote this originally back in early 2023 as an au using one of my wattpad original characters. through some editing, i've decided to change the pov and post it here! i hope you enjoy x

feedback and constructive criticism welcome. requests are open!

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

"Hemmings, get your head out of your ass for once and finish this goddamn deal."

The curly headed blonde's eyes snap away from the project he's currently in the middle of, various folders scattered amongst his desk, drowning him in useless paperwork all for a stupid fucking merger.

"The fuck do you think I'm doing?" Luke grumbles under his breath, snapping the Bolton file shut and tossing his overly expensive fountain pen on top of the mess he's created. Ashton Irwin, one of three named partners, stands with his arms crossed in the doorway of Luke's corner office, an unamused expression on his face.

"I think you're trying to do all this shit on your own instead of utilizing your associate, that's what I think," the honey blonde scoffs, thick brow raising, "Where's Y/N anyway? You send her across town for your stupid coffee again?"

"No," Luke's quick to defend, though it is the easiest way to get you out of his eyesight for a little while and focus, "I've got her on the Mansfield settlement."

"The Mansfield- that's Mike's case, idiot," Ashton shakes his head, "What's the deal, Luke? You really hate Y/N that much?"

A sigh of exhaustion leaves Luke's lips, head cocking back as he stares at the ceiling. "She's just chatty," he says vaguely, "Can't get a single fuckin' thing done 'cause she won't shut up."

"She's your associate, Luke, stop pawning her off on Mike or he'll swipe her out from under you."

"Good," he forces out a low chuckle, meeting the man's eyes, "He can have her."

"Don't say things you don't mean, you know she's one of the best associates we've got." Luke's eyes roll at his boss' words, sitting up straighter in his desk chair.

"Whatever," he mumbles softly, not willing to admit your brain is undeniably better than half the fucking people he's met. "Can I get back to work now?"

A defeated sigh escapes Ash's lips, "If I don't see Y/N in here working with you I'll make sure to send Calum your way."

"Calum?" the curly haired boy's nose wrinkles, shaking his head, "That's like giving me a fucking puppy, Ash, literally useless."

"Your call." he responds, a little smirk on his lips before pulling Luke's office door shut behind him. A groan leaves Luke's throat at this, the urge to rip every last blonde ringlet from his head at the idea of spending the remaining afternoon going over these stupid files with you.

Regardless of the fact that you’re distracting, which he'll never admit aloud, he shoots you a vague text requiring your presence in his office, no more than twenty minutes from now.

And of course, your dainty little wrist began knocking on the dark wooden door of his office precisely twenty-three minutes after he'd sent the text, only fueling his annoyance. A curt "come in" leaves his lips but his eyes remain on the file, instead of the sinful black dress on your curvy frame.

Tasteful and tightly fit, your fingers instinctively tug at the material resting on your mid thigh, a worrisome look on your features. For as long as you can recall, Luke's always teased you about your wardrobe, especially the bright colors and silken skirts.

"You're late," his tone is flat, hand scribbling away at the paperwork he's nearly memorized already, "I swear to god if you say some bullshit about the elevator again-"

Luke's words die in his throat as he lifts his head, eyes landing on the tight fabric on your frame, hugging every fucking dip and curve of your body. You meet eyes, yours widening, worried you’re going to be lectured again. Was your dress too plain, too boring?

The sweetheart neckline alone almost makes Luke lick his lips, stifling the urge to say something far, far more inappropriate to his associate. "Doesn't matter," the blonde rushes out, "We're gonna be here all night. Preorder from Machi's while you're at it."

"Okay," is all you say, walking closer to his desk, the click of your heels echoing Luke's ears as you bend over, just slightly, grabbing his desk phone and beginning to dial.

After nearly four hours and neither had made a miraculous discovery, a whine of agony leaves your throat, sat across the moderately sized office, snapping yet another useless file folder shut. "Luke,"

"What?" he rasps, tearing his eyes away from the file, meeting your eyes, his own filled with annoyance. "Don't tell me you've got nothing, Y/N."

"There's honestly no reason why Bolton should be merging with Daniels," you sigh out, running a hand through your hair, "Seriously, it's like Pampers merging with Microsoft, they have no interest in one another."

"Christ," Luke mutters under his breath, jaw tensing as you continue to ramble useless information, "Do you ever shut up?"

Mid-sentence, your lips snap shut, a warmth spreading across your cheeks. "Sorry," you respond softly, and Luke almost feels bad for being so curt, but god you never close your fucking mouth. "Did you find anything?"

A huff of air leaves Luke's nose, "Maybe," he says, twirling his fountain pen between his fingers, leg bouncing aimlessly as he scans over the documents for the umpteenth time. "But you keep fucking talking and it's throwing me off."

"Sorry."

"Damnit, Y/N," his curls bounce slightly as he shakes his head, rifling a hand through them, glancing over at your position on the small sofa, dress slightly ridden up your smooth thighs. "Come here, let me show you something."

Hesitantly, you toss the file on your lap onto the cushion, standing and making your way over to Luke's desk, oblivious to the fitted material of your dress riding a bit higher than intended. Luke swallows thickly, attempting to keep focus on the file in his hand. As you lean over slightly to see what Luke's underlined, his eyelids fall shut, the smell of your perfume annihilating his senses.

"But that means-" you cut yourself off, lower lip tucked between your teeth, palms flat on the corner of Luke's desk, "This isn't about combining their companies, is it?"

"No," Luke finally says after a moment, slowly blinking his eyes open, "But we need to convince the judge it is."

"That's impossible, Luke, it's clear they're only doing this for-"

"I know, just figure it out, Y/N."

"That'll take all night," you whine softly, "I'm not sleeping in the office two nights in a row." Luke's teeth grit together at your response, frustrated and fed up with your goddamn attitude.

"If you can't do it I'll find someone who can," he cranes his neck to meet your eyes, narrowed and darkened, "You wanna whine about a few more hours be my guest, but you're not doing it here."

"But-"

"Jesus fucking-" he abandons his pen with a thud, rubbing the palms of his hands against his tired eyes, "I seriously have never met someone so goddamn annoying. All you fucking do is whine and complain and talk my fucking ear off," Luke rambles lowly, "You wanted to be an associate, so be a goddamn associate and shut your fucking mouth before I shut it for you."

You stand upright, embarrassment washing over your features, attempting to remain composed as tears threaten your eyes. It's not a secret that Luke's always harbored some sort of annoyance toward you, but he's never spoken to you in such a vile manner before. You swallow the thick lump in your throat, fists balled at your sides. How dare he say those things to you?

"You're an asshole," you say, voice wavering slightly, "You're always a dick to everyone. Nobody's ever good enough for you. I wanted to be an associate to learn and do what I love, not be talked to like a child."

"The fuck did you say to me?" Luke counters with a raised brow, ringed fingers slowly rolling up the sleeves of his fitted black dress shirt. "I think you forget who you work for. Not Ashton, not Michael, definitely not Jessica. You work for me, Y/N, and if you want to keep your fucking job I think you owe me a goddamn apology."

Luke's eyes flicker between yours and the hemline of your little black dress, the skin of your thighs soft and tempting as he widens the distance between his legs, splayed open. "Come here," he says, a bit quieter this time, though he's fucking seething internally, he can't deny how fucking hot it is talking down to the you. Hesitantly, you step closer, stomach swirling with uneasiness.

"You don't wanna go through those files? Fine," Luke forces out a low chuckle, "But I've got work to do and I'm not gonna let you get in the way of that. So what you're gonna do is sit right here," he taps on his clothed thigh, "Shut your fucking mouth and make yourself cum on my thigh."

"What-"

"You heard me."

"Luke, I-"

"It wasn't a question, Y/N. And so help me god if you complain or make a fucking sound you're more than welcome to leave."

For the first time, you’re speechless. Standing so close to the man you swear hates you with every fiber of his being, asking you to make yourself cum on his thigh, you can't help the clench of your own thighs at the thought. Sure, you’ve had those kinds of thoughts about the tall blonde, but never did you imagine his request.

"So? What'll it be?" Luke asks impatiently, a thick brow raised as he grabs his pen, clicking it profusely, leaning back in his chair.

Wordlessly, and swallowing your pride, you step closer, slowly lifting your leg over the blonde's thigh, his foot firmly planted on the small rug beneath him. His eyes almost widen, as if he didn't expect you to comply, and he stifles a grunt when your warm center meets the fabric of his slacks. He can feel how fucking wet you are through the thin material of your underwear, your dress sliding a bit further up your thighs, almost exposing yourself to him.

"Alright then," Luke clears his throat, leaning forward slightly to grab the Bolton file, relaxing in his desk chair. "Get to it."

With her heart rattling in her chest, you grasp the armrest of Luke's chair to ground yourself, filled to the brim with shame. Are you really going to do this? You can still back out, you don't need to show Luke how pathetic you are, fucking leaking on his slacks just from his crude words. You don't even register the rock of your hips against his thigh until a soft moan slips from your lips, catching Luke's attention, his eyes briefly flickering to you.

And fuck is it hot. Your eyes slowly flutter shut as your hips roll in slow motions, the friction from the fabric forgotten, sensitive clit throbbing from your movements. Luke's jaw tenses, tearing his eyes away from the tempting sight, his cock twitching in his slacks.

Shame and embarrassment are out the window as you near your first orgasm, the explicit images of things you’ve only dreamt of unfolding behind your eyelids. You can only fucking imagine how Luke's fingers would feel inside you, the things he'd say as he's bottoming out inside of your tight heat. And it's suddenly overwhelming as you clench pathetically, throbbing against his thigh and your own legs shaking as you finish. "Fuck-"

Luke's eyes widen, biting hard at the inside of his cheek to keep his composure, the sound of you falling apart on his thigh sending a jolt straight to his aching cock. He wants nothing more than to bend you over his desk and fuck the daylights out of you until you’re drooling and forgetting your own goddamn name.

Reality comes crashing down as your orgasm passes, ragged breaths leaving your parted lips. Did you really just make yourself cum on your boss' thigh? "Luke-"

"Do it again."

"What?" You ask breathlessly, straightening your back, "You- you want me to do it again?"

"What did I say about shutting that pretty mouth of yours, Y/N? If I tell you to do something, do it," he scoffs, acting as though the sight of you cumming didn't turn him on even more, "If you're pathetic enough to do it once I'm sure you'll have no problem doing it again."

Your sensitive clit throbs helplessly as you swallow, white-knuckling the armrest and rocking your hips yet again. The swollen nub continuously brushing Luke's slacks has you choking down whimpers and whines, fearful of Luke's reaction to you making noise. Though, the idea of what he'll do if you don't comply lingers in your hazy mind.

The intermittent bounce of Luke's leg isn't doing you any favors either, little uh uh's leaving your parted lips.

You’re fucking drenched, the thin fabric of your lace underwear doing nothing to keep your arousal from coating Luke's thigh as you roll and rock your hips a bit quicker, your second orgasm creeping up on you, your head tossing back when a low, drawn-out whine leaves your lips, cumming for the second time like a pathetic whore.

And Luke fucking loves every goddamn second of it.

Attempting to calm yourself down from your release, thighs still trembling, Luke tosses the file onto his desk. He hadn't read a damn word of it anyway, not when you’re grinding your pretty little cunt against his thigh like a slut.

Suddenly embarrassed, your cheeks flush a deep crimson shade as you realize what you’ve done. You’ve soaked the fabric of Luke's slacks with your release, your own goddamn boss. "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"Don't say another word," he firmly cuts you off, "Get on your fucking knees."

"Why-"

"I'm honestly so fucking tired of listening to you, Y/N," Luke's tone lowers, a scoff leaving his lips, watching as you scramble to the floor. "Gonna shut you up, make good use of that stupid fucking mouth of yours."

Catching sight of the wet patch on his slacks, he nearly groans, ringed fingers fumbling with his belt buckle in record time, desperate for the release of his achingly hard cock. You seem to catch on, widened doey eyes flickering up to Luke's, your hands neatly folded in your lap. Luke pulls his slacks down just enough to allow his length to be exposed, not wanting to show an ounce of vulnerability to you. You don't deserve a sweet intimate moment, you deserve to be fucking ruined.

"Open your mouth," he grunts, hissing as he grasps the base of his cock, your lips parting slowly, the blonde stepping forward and guiding the tip past your lips. "Wanna see you choke on my cock."

He doesn't give you a moment to register his words before he's thrusting fully into your mouth, tip poking the back of your throat and a choking sound emitting from your lips. You scramble to grasp at the backs of his thighs to keep yourself steady. The sight of your sparkly lipgloss coating his cock is so fucking intoxicating and he wonders why he hadn't thought of it sooner.

Using his hands to grasp your hair quite roughly, he continues to fuck into your mouth at a degrading pace, not allowing you to adjust to the forceful movements. Choking and gagging sounds fill the otherwise quiet room, spit dribbling from your lips. "Yeah, you like choking on my cock, Y/N? So much better than hearing you fuckin' talk."

Your nails dig into the fabric of his pants, a grunt leaving Luke's lips as his hips continue thrusting his cock into your mouth. You can barely take all of him, the base nearly untouched. "All you're fuckin' good for, hm?"

And suddenly he's removing himself from your mouth, chest heaving from how fucking wrecked you already look, the small tears pooling your waterline smudging the mascara you'd put on. "As much as I wanna watch you swallow for me," he heaves out, "I wanna feel that pretty fuckin' pussy of yours."

A pathetic whimper leaves your lips, clenching around nothing as you remain on your knees before him, a string of saliva connecting your swollen lips and the reddened, aching tip of Luke's cock. "You want me inside you?" he asks.

You have no words, honestly, the burn left behind in your throat from Luke's forceful thrusts halts you from speaking. Instead, you nod. "No, I want to hear you fuckin' say it, Y/N. I'm not an asshole."

"Yes," you weakly respond, "I want you."

"Good. Take that fuckin' dress off while you're at it."

Your shaky and frail fingers grasp the hemline of your dress hesitantly, eyes flickering between his leaking cock and his firm gaze, pulling the fitted material over your head and tossing it aside. Now sat in nothing but a pair of soaked, white lace panties and your heels, Luke's eyes fall on your bare breasts. "So fuckin' pretty."

"Luke-" you whimper quietly.

"Shut up," his hands reach beneath your arms, pulling you to your feet. Luke reaches around you, large hand swiping the array of documents off of his desk, sending them to the floor with a thud. You release a soft gasp when your bare backside meets the cool wooden desk, "Can't say I've never thought about this."

Luke's hands fall to your hips, gripping the skin roughly, and guiding you down until your back is flush with the desk, legs spread pathetically, displaying your clothed core to him. "God, you're so fucking soaked it's pathetic," he laughs lowly, shaking his head, and trailing a finger along the dampened material, coated in your previous orgasms and current arousal. He sends a soft smack with the back of his hand to your swollen clit, causing a whimper to leave your lips. "You'll let me have you any way I want, huh?"

"Luke-"

"Don't talk, I already know the answer," he raises your legs so your heels are resting on the edge of the desk, fingers ghosting the inside of your thighs teasingly, "Because here you are, spread out on my fucking desk like the whore you are."

"Please-"

"God, you just can't listen, huh?" his hands retreat from your skin, fumbling with his necktie, folding it into a neat little square. "I said I don't wanna hear you, Y/N." leaning over you, the tip of his cock pressing against your clothed core, he forces the folded tie between your lips, gagging you. "There, much better."

Luke works quickly to pull the pathetic excuse for underwear down your legs, tossing them alongside your dress on the floor. His cock twitches at the sight of you, fucking glistening and leaking just for him. He trails two fingers up your wetness, slicking his cock with your arousal, and prodding the tip against you. "Look at me," he says, hovering over you, hands on either side of your head. Hesitantly, you meet his eyes, your own widening, "Wanna watch you take my fucking cock."

You look so fucking pretty all gagged up for him. Running his tongue along his lower lip, he roughly juts his hips forward, instantly bottoming out and a muffled scream leaves your lips at the stretch. The tears that brimmed your eyes previously begin to fall, feeling so full, "Fuck," he hums lowly.

He rocks his hips a few times, watching as your eyes practically roll back into your head. And god does that make him so fucking proud, staring at you as drool slowly dribbles from yourr lips. He halts, roughly tugging the tie from your mouth, fingers gathering the spit and shoving it between your lips. "Don't be messy," he tuts, before placing the tie back, "Already fuckin' droolin' like a whore and I'm barely getting started."

Luke retracts his cock, hands grasping at your hips and flipping your body, the sound of your stomach colliding with the wooden desk echoing through the room. "I don't wanna look at you," he says, palming the skin of your backside before smacking the smooth flesh. He realigns himself with your entrance, one hand splayed on your bare back to hold you in place.

Roughly thrusting inside once again, the moans and muffled choked sobs barely reach Luke's ears, too fucking entranced by the feeling of your tight little cunt taking him so well. "This," he rocks his hips forcefully, "Is fuckin' mine. Anytime I goddamn want it, you're gonna give it to me."

You scramble to grab the opposite edge of Luke's desk, white knuckling it as he forcefully pounds into you, so fucking deep and quick you can barely breathe. "Such a tight fuckin' cunt," he groans, fingernails scraping along your back, "Taking my cock like a good fuckin' slut."

Instinctively you clench around him, eliciting a deep borderline growl from Luke's throat, hand previously raking down your back finding your hair, fisting the strands between his fingers and yanking you backwards until you’re halfway to his chest. You rest your palms flat on the desk, eyes pinched shut in pleasure while he continues fucking into you at an unruly pace.

"Clench again for me," he moans out, feeling the muscles in his stomach tighten, his orgasm slowly beginning to build. You comply, your thighs trembling, clenching as hard as you can. "Fuckin' god," Luke tosses his head back, eyelids fluttering shut in pure bliss.

You choke out another moan around the tie in your mouth, unable to warn the blonde of your third orgasm that's quickly approaching as he continuously pokes the perfect spot so fucking deep inside you’re nearly a drooling mess. The hand not entangled in your hair grips one of your breasts roughly, sending you over the edge in a series of muffled cries. Tears stream down your cheeks, cunt tightening around Luke yet again, the blonde hissing as he feels your release coat his cock, the slick sound of his thrusts growing louder.

"Fuckin' milkin' my cock like a whore," he spits out, grip tightening on your hair as he pulls you closer, thrusting into you impossibly harder. You can't fucking think, you’re a dizzy mess and can hardly form a thought. You can't even feel the drool pooling from the edges of your lips. "Gonna fill up that sweet little cunt of yours and make you mine."

Luke pulls you flush to his chest, your head lolling against his shoulder. Though he isn't one for kissing, he doesn't hesitate to graze his teeth against your exposed neck, sinking them into the supple flesh as his hips begin to stutter, groaning against your neck as he releases inside. You wince at the rough bite on your neck but you’re too spent to care, leaning fully against him as he rocks through his orgasm.

You’re in a daze when he pulls out of you, nearly falling against the desk, the blonde quickly reaching for you to keep you upright. Though he's smug and feeling overly satisfied for ruining you, a swirl in his stomach tells him he needs to make sure you’re alright. He pulls the tie from your mouth, not commenting on the drool spilled from your lips. "Y'okay?"

You can't fucking speak.

Luke's brows furrow with worry, hand delicately grasping your jaw and searching your hazy eyes. Pupils blown out just like his, fresh tears lingering on your cheeks. "Oh, baby," the pet name falls from his lips effortlessly, "C'mon."

Tucking his softening cock into his pants and guiding you away from his desk and towards the couch, he plucks your heels from your feet. Though he'd never in a million years consider aftercare, he's stripping his button down from his broadened frame and slipping your arms inside, buttoning it to cover your exposed body. "Luke," you toss your head back onto the plush couch.

"Hm?" he hums softly.

"I need to- need to clean up," you rasp quietly, a hint of a blush on your cheeks, head reeling from the soreness between your thighs.

"That's what m'here for," he coos sweetly, though the smirk of his lips has you swallowing thickly. His ringed hands trail along your warm and flushed skin, parting your trembling thighs, the sight of his release slowly dribbling out of your sweet cunt nearly has his cock stiffening in his slacks again. "Mm, such a pretty wrecked little pussy."

A gasp leaves your lips as he leans forward, nose brushing your lower stomach, tongue gathering his cum from your sensitive folds. Lapping up every fucking drop, Luke straightens himself out, reaching a hand towards your swollen lips and parting them with his thumb. You’re beyond confused as he tightly grips your jaw, before spitting the contents into your own mouth. Swiping any remnants from his own lips, he narrows his eyes. "Fuckin' swallow."

Clasping your pretty lips shut, you comply, feeling a stir in your stomach when your eyes meet, and swallow.

"My good fuckin' girl."

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