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saiidahyunie · 26 days

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ballroom extravaganza

minatozaki sana x f!reader || cont. of fake and true ! pt.3 here

synopsis: you scored the date with the girl from the bar, things are shaping up for the better (maybe/maybe not), and your cousin mina is starting to raise some suspicions.

warnings: fluff ; smut!! ; sana giving/recieving ; reader recieving/giving ; fucking in the car/office/bedroom (freaky deaky) :D ; sana being needy ; sana praising ; cursing ; anything else i didn't let y'all know ; might be proofread

a/n: dang y'all really like sana don't ya? (bias wrecking me ill never recover) hope you guys enjoy this second part as much as the first one!

you’re basically jumping out of your own skin when you hear the knock on your door, and twirl around to see the bedside clock.

8:29

a minute early. you’d be impressed to keep the hefty lunch in your stomach to not vomit it out.

“coming!” you cry out, before taking a second to fuss with your current appearance. you played it simple, the flashiest part of the red dress that shuhua loaned you. like the black one, it’s slim-fitting and short, the neckline cutting above the swell of your breasts. your lips are a stained deep red, just to match. tzuyu always said to you that the color was striking for you to pull off.

after straightening the dress, you step out of your room and walk towards the entryway of the door, taking a second to toe on your black pumps. and then, with a steady exhale, you open the door.

sana stands on the other side of it, one hand in her pocket of your black slacks and the other carrying a bouquet of roses that she promptly shoves at your chest. you take them, cradling to your body, and look up to find her already gazing at you, eyes raking from the top of your head and down. again and again.

“hey.”

“hi.” you smile at her. “these are really beautiful, thank you.”

sana jerks her head in acknowledgement, and you can see the faintest flush of pink spreading to the tips of her ears. you bite your lip as you set the flowers down, staving off the rare urge to giggle.

she’s still standing by the door, holding her arm out. “so are you ready to go?”

you take it, curling a hand around her bicep, letting her lead you out. “please.”

—

“alright,” sana says, laying her menu flat on the table, staring at you with grave seriousness. “speak.”

“huh?” you look away from the giant, crystal chandelier hanging above you two. the restaurant she’d take you to was only slightly less fancier than the one at the four seasons hotel.

slightly.

“i can tell you want to say something.”

you smile nervously. “yeah, about your driving, maybe. i thought we were gonna—”

“y/n.” she says firmly; it has the same affect as dumping a bucket of ice water over your head. “no bullshit. you might as well say what you wanna say.”

“fine.” and this is easy to sink into, your mode of no-nonsense: the compartmentalization of what stresses you. “why did you give me the money?”

“because i wanted to.”

“i know, but why? did you feel bad for me?”

“a little.”

you grit your teeth. “did you pity me?”

“no.”

“then what?”

“i’ve been in your position before. kind of.”

“what do you mean.”

“struggling college student, a shitty job, caming from harebrained ways to get money. everyone who’s gone on the path to grad school, doesn’t matter if it’s med, law, blah blah blah whatever, knows how fucking hard it is to survive.”

your cheeks flush from sana’s words, picking at the white table cloth. “so you empathized with me?”

“basically.” sana says, sitting back in her chair, smiling at you. your eyes follow along the lazy draw of it. “i didn’t expect you to be so difficult about it.”

“it’s not like it’s common to give strangers hundreds of dollars within an hour of meeting them. forgive me for being concerned.”

“do you still want to give the money back to me?” sana asks.

“yes.”

“okay. then let’s change the subject.” diverting to the basic cookie cutter icebreaker in existence. “what are you majoring in?”

“sana—”

she reaches across the table and grabs your hand, squeezing it slightly. dazzling brown eyes swallow up your field of vision as she leans into you. “what are you majoring in?”

you bite your tongue. you don’t want to relent into sana’s charms; mina would have your head if she knew that sana was running away with it. but she’s making it so so easy, smiling when you answer, “i’m finishing up my bachelor’s in child education. aiming to get my masters in child’s psychology.”

“you like kids?”

“yeah,” you reply, visibly softening to sana. “last summer i did my internship at a local kindergarten and i love it. kids are…easy in a way that people aren’t.”

“what do you mean?”

“they don’t expect anything from you. not anything beyond food or water or playtime. you know, nothing super sophisticated or adult. and they’re easy to talk to. they don’t care what you say to them or if you don’t talk much in general. they’re not judgy and it’s nice.” you hit that right out of the ballpark, and sana stares with lips parted as the facts are laid out for you.

“i’ve never thought about them that way,” she says, her hand shifting atop your own. her thumb skims across your knuckles. “it sounds nice.”

your heart thrums like a hummingbird against the walls of your chest. every languid caress pulls a shiver from you. “you don’t like kids?”

“i don’t dislike them. i’m neutral, i guess. i know i’d like to have my own.” sana replies.

“do you have any siblings?”

“nope. i’m an only child.”

“i would’ve never guessed,” you say dryly.

“ha! has anyone told you you’re funny?” sana inquires, and you’re stifling a laugh while she’s smiling at you, gaze fond. “what about you?”

“well, i’m an only child.” you reply. normally you’d leave it at this. you don’t really like the notion of getting into the nitty-gritty of your past, but sana’s presence robs any reticence from you. “my parents passed when i was younger so i was raised by my aunt and her cousin.”

“oh.” sana slips her fingers into the spaces of your own and squeezes gently again. “i’m so sorry.”

“it’s okay,” you say, smiling awkwardly. “it happened when i was little. i’m kind of accustomed to it now.”

“can i ask you a question?”

“a personal one?”

the corner of sana’s mouth quirks. you want to trace it with your fingers.

“if you were in that desperate of a situation, why didn’t you ask her for help?”

“i can’t afford to take any money from my aunt or cousin. she can’t afford it.”

“did you try asking?”

“i’m not saying she would’ve said no. but if she tried, i wouldn’t have accepted it.”

“sounds startlingly familiar.”

you pull your hand from hers with a smile and an eye roll before picking up the menu in front of the table, raising it up high enough to cover sana’s face.

“can we order something now?”

—

when you get back in the car, you’re warm, languid with a stomach full of risotto and red wine. sana’s hand rests on the gear shift between you, the other one on her wheel. you like watching the motion of them as she drive, like the curls of sana’s knuckles and the rasp her palm makes against the wheel when she turns it. you wish to feel the warmth of it against your leg.

well, in a city like new york, it’s nothing more than unpleasant.

“you know i wasn’t kidding when i told you that you’re a horrible driver.”

“do you own a car, y/n?”

“i usually take the subway.”

“okay. pro-tip if you ever do drive in these streets, better to be offensive than dead. or stuck in traffic for two hours. which, believe it or not, is fucking worse.”

but despite sana’s words, she seems to listen to you. the drive stretches longer, and you lean into the plush leather seats as you stare out the window, dreading the sight of every familiar building, the street signs that you know lead to your apartment. for a moment, you debate asking to get ice cream, or go to the park, a movie theater–-anything and everything to extend this. you don’t want to leave the pleasant warmth of her car.

“y/n?”

you look over to see her smile. “i thought you were asleep.”

“i’m not tired.”

she takes her hand off the gear shift, thumbs a lock of your hair without breaking your gaze. unwavering.

“neither am i.”

when she pulls into your squat, little apartment complex, you’re gripping the edge of your seat, nails squeaking against the buttery leather. she smoothly pulls into an empty space, parking backwards—what a show off—-before turning to you. with as huddled into the seat as you were, her hand is behind the headers, arm bracketing you, you feel consumed. surrounded by her scent, in her car, the engine humming beneath them, with her so close. you can’t breathe without inhaling her.

sana’s noticed it too. her eyes have gone dark, swallowed by her pupils.

“i had fun,” she says.

“me too.”

her mouth twitches. “you gonna try giving me the money back now?”

you jolt at the reminder, bending to snatch you purse, but sana’s hand flies from her headrest to your hand, hot over your knee.

“i was kidding. i don’t want it back. i don’t need it.”

“sana—”

“y/n.” she interrupts firmly. “i don’t need it. and in my opinion, i think you can do a hell of a lot more.”

your defenses waiver before they crumble completely, and you feel your chin wobble. to your horror. “you’re too nice to me.”

she grabs it, pressing her thumb into the plush of your bottom lip. your stomach clenches as sana’s eyes flicker down, anticipation making your headlight.

“i don’t think i’m nice enough,” she whispers, but it barely registers. you’re already reaching for her, mouth open to beg; hand on her wrist, and she meets you half-way, swallowing your muted please.

sana’s kiss is desperate, intense like the rest of her. one hand buried in your hair while the other presses against your knee, a searing, overbearing heat that sinks into your insides, coiling tingly in the pit of your gut. despite your furious protestations to tzuyu, you haven’t felt this in a while, the wet-warmth of another mouth against your own, the life of someone else’s tongue, opening you up further.

you press closer, so frantic you almost climb over the armrest, but sana pushes you back down to your seat. she breaks away from your mouth to kiss down the line of your throat, flicking her tongue out to taste your overheated skin, smiling when you sigh. your hips jerk beneath her hold when she sucks at your pulse point.

she grins, teeth nipping at your jawline. “you like that, sweetie?”

there’s a shock-wire running from the heat of her mouth to her clit. sana’s barely touched you and you’re already keyed-up, on the cusp of euphoria. if you touched yourself now, you’d be so far gone, but you’re not sure she’d let you.

sana returns to kissing your throat, pausing to suckle at it with teeth and tongue, laving it against your skin in soft, wet strokes. she uses the hand in your hair to tilt your neck towards her, directing you like a puppet on strings. her other hand roves up and down your exposed thigh in gentle motions, more exploratory than anything, as if she can’t keep from touching you. and the thought sends a jolt of electricity to pass through you, sparking between your legs. it makes your hips can’t, makes the desperate need for friction a burying, voracious thing, primed to consume you.

when she kisses the swell of your bottom lip, it comes out of you in a breathless pant, nails biting the seat. “p-please touch me.”

“where?” sana asks, thumbing the hem of your dress, close enough to be a physical pain. “where, baby? here?”

“n-no.”

“then where, y/n?” your eyes are black, eager with predatory intent, and you hate how much you love it; the consuming weight of her attention, like she wants to eat you whole.

without much coronation, you take sana’s hand and shove it between your thighs, spreading them wide. you’re initially afraid that she’ll keep teasing you, that she’s lost in the power trip, but she surprises you when she groans and kisses you roughly, fingers tracing up your slit.

“so fucking wet you are,” sana raps when she breaks away, almost crazed. she dips her hand beneath the waistband of your panties, the sensation of her fingers against your sensitive skin sending your eyes rolling. your hips buck, demanding delicious friction, and she surges in, laughing into your mouth.

“you can cum just like this, can’t you?” she asks, voice rumbling against your cheek. her thumb slides up and down the seam of your cunt, the heel of her palm adding the barest pressure to your clit, but it’s good. the mere taste of it almost enough to send you over the edge, just for the sweet torture.

her knuckles pull against the gusset of your panties as two of her fingers center over your clit. her pace at first is light, slow, exploratory like the way it’d been on your leg. her eyes on your face are focused. she wants to know what’ll take you to the edge, and you know it isn’t this. so you grab sana’s wrist and raise your hips to force pressure.

“faster,” you pant, liquid gaze cutting to her. “h-harder. i like it–”

she steals the words from you, kissing again with a mouth full of bite. the motions of sana’s fingers quicken, slide down to the tease of your e trance while you grind frantically into her palm. you’re so wet you easily accept the glide of her first finger, and when she pushes in the second, the stretch is sweet, a welcome thing. you thrust onto them, wishing vainly that she’d toss you into the backseat and fuck you with something more.

the thought makes you clench around her, and she curses loudly, burying her face into your sweaty neck.

“are you always this depsrate when you’re getting fucked?” sana hisses, thrusting her fingers into you harder, without relent. “you always feel this good?”

you choke out a sob, feeling the familiar swoop in your belly, the swelling tide that welcomed euphoria. as you clutch her wrist, chasing it, sana rests her head atop your shoulder, her voice going soft, reverent.

“you’re so good, y/n,” she says in a frantic stream, mad with want. “so good. so, so fucking good. my perfect girl.”

you keen when it washes over you, that white-hot heat that robs you of sense. you shudder beneath sana’s grip, clutching her wrist as you ride it out. she helps you come down from it, kissing you languidly and keeping her pace inside you slow. when you can breathe again, she pulls them out of you. you flush hotly when she sticks her fingers in her mouth, but the embarrassment doesn’t linger long. you surge toward her, hands flying towards the button of her pants. meets her in another frantic kiss.

“i wanna make you feel good now,” you whisper, palming her. “i want—”

sana uses her hand in your hair to bind you up against her and kisses you again, long and full enough to make the words melt from your tongue. you’re hazy when she pulls away, pliant.

“i think,” she says. “that there’s always next time.”

“next time?”

“next time,” sana repeats, rubbing your cheek with her thumb. “it’s late anyway. you should go to bed.”

“oh,” you say blankly. “okay.”

sana kisses you again, twice on your nose, before leaning over to open your door. you stumble out of her car, binding your purse tight against your chest. you wave at her from the entrance of her building before you step inside, and see the shadow of sana’s hand as she waves back, driving off. when she turns onto the street, you rush inside, a hot, sharp balloon swelling in your chest.

your hands shake when you slot the key into your door and turn the knob, switching on the lights. you kick your shoes off and toss the purse onto the couch, moving on muscle memory. you can’t think beyond the warm, floaty haze that’s clouded your mind, and when you shut the door behind you, you laugh.

over and over. carelessly. all the while remembering the firm grip of sana’s hand and the scent of her, clogging your nose even now, a smell you want to bottle up and keep.

next time, you think, giddy, nearly dancing in the small space. she said there’d be a next time.

just then, you hear the high trill of your phone and dart to the couch, yanking open your purse to fish it out. you flush a pink when you notice the notification next to sana’s name– a text that reads, goodnight- and as you go to type your response, another notification pops up. one from venmo.

a cold spike of adrenaline shoots through you when the app opens, fingers trembling. you almost drop your phone entirely at the number attached: $1,000 dollars.

“for school,” it reads.

your breath quickens. the hot balloon in your chest expands and expands until it pops, a physical pain against your ribcage.

i thought— your eyes burn. the realization sinks into your like molasses. i thought she—

the night you met sana, she expressed concern when she learned why you were there. she’d condemned jihyo and implied that you deserved something more, something better. she’d left you money as a gift, to be kind.

a gift, sana told you. you don’t owe me anything.

so why is it, then, that you have the distinct impression that jihyo had been simply outbid.

—

you’re thinking about next time. sana said that there’d be a next time.

that next time would come, then twice.

then a third.

and after.

the day after that, and the day even after that.

the room is reverberating the echoes around you, loud with the sounds of heavy pants and wet slaps of skin. you’re clinging to the sheets beneath you, pushing yourself up, moving your hips to meet the frantic pace of sana's fingers curled up inside you. sana then buries a hand into your hair and hitches you up for a kiss that never takes. it’s broken quickly, leaves both of your swollen mouths parted and breathing of each other’s oxygen. you’re relishing the intimacy of the moment.

when the building pressure at the base of your stomach grows to become too overwhelming, you fall back on the mattress, unmoored without sana’s presence, but she follows you as she always does. she’s binding her arm around your waist and raises you up, hand cupping your cunt while she’s all over your neck again.

“c’mon,” sana says, voice wrecked, torn from her. “c’mon, honey, one more.”

you gave sana the opportunity to sit on her face earlier, brown eyes flashing dark and predatory at you while you grind all over her mouth. the hot curl of her tongue relentless against you, reducing you to a living nerve ending. sana wrung out two splintering orgasms out of you, flipping you on your back before you could even recover. you loved it, and you still do, seeing all the ways that you can challenge sana.

her slender fingers dip down to your clit again and causes you to moan loudly, rocking into her as she circles it firmly: rough, fast motions that she’s learned that you love. to bring you back to that edge quick.

sana kisses you again, her other hand slipping to your breast above and squeezing. she’s groaning into your core, it’s making you fall deeper into the madness of your situation.

“you’re so—” she barely mumbles out, her hand on your breast slides down to clamp the divot in your hips. sliding the pillow under the arch of your back in one seamless motion. she’s too good with her hands. “fucking unreal, and perfect.”

her mouth against your other mouth starts the chain reaction. you’re moaning out more strain behind it. a star-burst of affection igniting in your chest. sana continues to swipe her tongue, the unyielding pressure that makes your vision swimmy, and you let go.

you’re sobbing out while your hands are trying to find what’s left of the comforter as ecstasy steals over you. sana continues to drive her fingers and tongue into you, letting you feel it: in the air, at the base of your throat, between the rapid, uneven pacing of thrusts from her fingers. when you’re all tuckered out, the clenching fading out from your cunt, soaked with slick while it gets on different parts of your skin; from the leg, to one of your obliques, to the small peak of your boob.

“o-okay, that’s e-enough.”

“you taste so fucking good,” sana murmurs, mouth hot against the column of your neck. her hands trailing up and down your stomach. “when you clench around my fingers is just—”

fucking shit this woman. “sana, please.”

she sits up with a chuckle, and you’re at the same level too, instantly resting your head on her shoulder, kissing it. sana wraps her arm around your waist, kissing the top of your head, her fingers are tapping away at the v-line. you look up and she kisses you, grinning with delight.

“will you stay over?” you ask, too plaintive when she pulls away. sana’s smile falters and you feeling the realization, disappointment inbound.

“i can’t.” a spike lances through you. “my department has a meeting early in the morning. i can’t skip.”

“oh.” you hate yourself for being upset—she’s a doctor, of course she’s busy—but the feeling rises up anyway, along with the insidious notion that she’s gotten what she wanted and so has little use for you now. without thinking, you start to drift away from sana in slow little increments that she catches, and she pulls you up tight against her, pressing her lips to your hairline.

“i wish i could say,” sana whispers. “if it were up to me, i’d be here with you everyday.”

the words are cruel, considering what they are–what you are—but the pain is stamped down. masking it with teasing. “how would you work then?”

“i’m sure my supervisor could find someone else to fill my place. someone as equally ecstatic to dig their hands into some guy’s intestines.”

“you’re so…casual when you talk about your job.” you say out of respite.

“are you worried?” sana asks.

“no.” answering while tracing fingers across sana’s chest, over her still-racing heart, before tapping her chin. “but it makes me wonder if i should be.”

“is the child psychology major going to psychoanalzye me right now? when i’m twenty-nine years old nearing thirty?”

“you know the issues of childhood can be far-reaching. you never stop feeling the effects of it.”

“incredible.” you laugh when sana dips her head and takes your finger in her mouth, biting it gently. “but i’ve always been this way.”

“which is?”

a half-feral grin spreads across sana’s face before she abruptly flips you over. you yelp into her mouth as she kisses you, long and slow, and settles over you. she breaks away, still grinning. “crazy about you.”

you’re flushing hotly, which makes her bark out a delighted laugh, and sana kisses you again. over and over and over. her lips trail from your fluttering eyelids to the tip of your nose to your chin, every nook and cranny of your face that she can reach. when her lips meet yours again, you can taste the sugar on her tongue.

“god, i wish i could stay,” sana rasps, breaking away, and you cling onto her.

“then stay.”

“if i did, i’d have to leave at 5 to get ready at my apartment in order to be at the hospital on time. also you have an early class tomorrow. chances are i’d wake you up and you wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep.”

your jaw tightens, and teeth catch your tongue. you don’t want to accuse sana of making excuses, because you know she’s right; it’s happened before. and that’s what burns you, the idea that your angst could have no standing. the operating off of your injured feelings and nothing substantial. this is transnational after all.

“okay.” you say, coolly. “guess this is goodbye then.”

“bye y/n.” sana says, kissing your mouth. “goodnight.”

sana kisses you several times, smothering you in affection. she only stops after you simple, nipping at your nose once before rising off the bed. you watch as sana peels away off the bed, walking around your room, picking up her clothes from the floor and pulling them on. when she’s done, she strides over to you and slides a nick of your hair back, kissing your forehead.

“i’ll call you tomorrow, sweetheart.”

“okay.”

sana ducks down, skating her nose along the edge of your hairline, keeping her mouth close to your ear. “i’ll see you later.”

you move your head and catch sana’s lips. against them, whispering. “mn, see you later.”

you notice with some satisfaction that sana’s eyes are fevered as she pulls away, dark with wanting, and you shove your face back into the pillow, clinging to it. sana mutters a soft curse and makes her way to the door, only to immediately jam the knob when she goes to close it. she mutters a curse again, much louder.

“just give it a little wiggle,” you say, sitting up. “it gets a little tight sometimes when you twist it.”

“how long has it been like this?”

“since i got the apartment.”

“what the fuck?!” sana exclaims. “did anything else come broken?”

“sometimes the water pressure in my shower is really low.”

“jesus christ, y/n.” sana says again, louder, angrier. “why haven't you told your landlord?”

“trust me, i have.” you say shrugging your shoulders. “if i said anything more than that he’d just shut off the water entirely.”

sana sounds pressed, jiggling the knob harder. “i’ll kill him then.”

“it’s really not that ba—”

“i’m coming back next week with a repairman,” sana interjects, tone brokering no argument. “i can fix the doorknob myself but i’ll get a plumber for the shower.”

you duck your head, embarrassed. “you really don’t have to do that, sana.”

“i want to,” she replies, eyes softening when she looks at you. “i don’t want you living in some shit-hole with no running water.”

“i have running water.”

“we’ll see what the plumber says.” and with that, sana gives up on fixing the jam and breezes past the doorway. a few seconds later, you can hear sana at the front door shut behind her. with a deep sigh, you fall back into the bed and reach for your pillow, thick with her scent, and curls around it to fall asleep.

in the morning, you wake up to a ten dollar venmo notification for coffee and the contact information of the plumber sana mentioned.

—

“why haven’t you got my calls or texts?” is the first question that mina asks when you answer the phone. you stifle a laugh.

“well, good to hear your voice mina.”

“you haven’t called me,” she says again. “is everything okay?”

you sigh and sink into your loveseat, socks skipping over the fractured leather. your fingers cradle the coffee mug. “nothing’s wrong.” you say. “i’ve been really busy.”

“with what?”

“school,” is what you reply with. “not sure if you’ve kept up, but i’m in my last year now. i’ve been getting most of the important work done as much as i can.” a second passes before you add, “and communication is a two-way street. you haven’t been calling me either.”

“busy with work.” is what mina says in defense.

“see?” you quirk, a sip of coffee passing through your mouth, tapping your fingers on your knee, waiting for mina to speak. neither of you are particularly verbose, so the shared calls usually play out like this: tense silence, quick updates, the voids that harbored resentment. but you’ve grown far from the desire of mina to be soft for you (she has, doesn’t want to admit it) and you’re just accustomed to the dispassion.

for the final question on the script: “do you need any money from me?”

“no, mina. i don’t need money from you or auntie.”

“i assume the tips are good at your job then?”

“even better.”

she hums, like this was real answer, saying, “if you ever need anything, call me.”

“you know it when i do.”

“okay then.”

mina hangs up with a click before the goodbye is even truly articulated on the tongue.

—

your ears perk up when a knock is heard on the door, moving from your kitchen to walk to the entrance. curious, you open it, only to be swept up into sana’s arms before you can even say hello. she kicks it shut behind her and pins you to the old wood, lips roving over your face.

“what—” she kisses your mouth twice in quick succession. “—are you doing here?”

“left the hospital for my lunch break,” sana breathes, hitching you up so that a leg is wrapped around her waist. she dips to suck your collarbone, mouth curling when she hears you mewl. “decided to come here.”

“d-did you eat?”

“no.”

sana’s hand slides up from the curve of your ass to your breast, squeezing gently. you moan softly, head thumping against the wood. “you—you should.”

she separates from your throat to shoot a sly grin. “i’d rather eat you out first.”

mindless, spurred by sana’s passion, you surge down to kiss her. tightening your legs around her, thighs squeezing as sana’s hand cups your clit. with every pass of the hand, you can feel the shift of your underwear, panties clinging.

sana buries her hand into your hair, yanking back to expose your throat. she ducks her head to you for another kiss, trailing her lips up and down the line, tongue darting out to taste. her other hand dips down to your ass to bind you up against her, rolling until your toes curl. you sigh and slide your hand into sana’s hair. it would be so easy to just cum from this, but you’d rather put sana’s mouth somewhere else.

you pull her up by her hair, stomach clenching at the naked want on sana’s face. her eyes, half-lidded and hazy, are trained on your open mouth. when you lick them, her thumb catches your bottom lip.

“please,” you gasp, moving against sana’s hips. arching. “we need to go to my—”

sana grins, almost madly, and kisses you hard enough to steal your breath. “what? you’re afraid your neighbors might hear me fuck you again?”

you blush hotly and sana laughs, but ultimately decides to appease you, heaving you off the wall. she seeks out your lips again and stumbles into the room. impatient, sana kicks open the door, heedless when it slams loudly into the wall.

you hardly notice also, giddy when sana pushes you onto the bed. it’s a race to get clothes off, pairs of hands fulmbling with the zippers and buttons until sana bats her pants away, you yanking your sweatpants off, meeting for another kiss as she lowers herself over you. you moan loudly when her fingers tease the opening between your legs, feeling the wetness in an instant.

“my god,” you sigh out, clinging to sana, blood burning beneath your skin; every movement a siren call to your own pleasure. “please, just—just touch me, sana.”

sana grins rakishly, eyes glittering with mirth. ever the eager observer to your own demise.

“you’re always so polite, sweetheart.” sana says, and moves down to kiss you. you yourself arch to meet her, pulse skittering at her proximity, at the heady invertibility of mindless pleasure, and—

the lights go out.

sana stills above you. at first, you’re surprised, waiting for them to flicker back on. this happens sometimes. i mean—the building is old as in 1920s red stone–faulty wiring and out-dated, but nothing comes to fruition.

“fuck,” you spitt, arousal plummeting to now nothing. you move from under sana. “fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—”

“what’s wrong?” sana asks. you rise from the bed and she follows you to the kitchen. you snatch a pile of envelopes from your counter to dig through them, only to stop when you notice that the lighting outside is too dim to see. you sigh heavily, marching over to your couch to read by the flickering candles. sana sits down beside you, eyeing cautiously. “what’s wrong?”

“the light bill,” you croak. “the rental agency upped the price recently but i must’ve paid the old amount without ven thinking. god, how could i be so stupid?!”

“you’re not stupid. don’t talk like that,” sana snaps. she then takes a deep breath, voice much calmer when she adds, “and this is an easy fix. if you pay it now, it’ll be back on in a few hours. this shit happens, y/n.”

“but i don’t–” have the money. you clench your jaw tight, forcing the words down, but sana can see the pain on your face, can hear it lingering in the air, unsaid.

“i’ll help you—” you shake your head; you don’t like this, the reminder—” let me help you.”

“no, sana.”

“it’s not a big deal. i want to.”

“i can’t ask you to—”

sana suddenly shifts closer and grabs your face, cupping it between her palms. she looks int your eyes, gaze probing.

“let me,’ she cajoles. “you don’t have to bear the burden of this all on your own. if i’m offering to help you, let me help you.”

your heart swells. with relief. with dismay. “okay.”

she pecks your lips before standing up, thumb trailing down your cheek. “where’s your laptop? if your account is set up online, i can pay it now. i still have about forty-five minutes until i have to get back so i can wait with you until then.”

“it’s on my desk.”

sana nods once, turning on her heel to march into your room. the second she’s out of sight, you bury your face into her hands, burning with shame.

—

right after class ends, your phone vibrates.

you pick it out of your pocket, thumb grayling over your cracked screen to see sana’s contact photo flashing up at you; it was the one taken three weeks ago, with her smiling while you pressed a kiss to her cheek. you’re clicking the green button.

“hello?”

“i just realized you’ve never been to my apartment,” sana says, surprising you. “we’ve been together for almost two months and you’ve never seen my house.”

“oh.” your cheeks flush, pulse skipping at together. “you’ve never really brought it up before.”

“like a fucking idiot. do you wanna come over?”

your body warms in a near–sudden response, to your eternal horror, and with a bite of your lip. “sure.”

“cool! i’ll pick you up right now.”

“you're not working today?”

“no. i worked eighty hours last week so they gave me a day off. i’m on call, though, which is shitty anyway.”

“i’m sorry.”

“it’s fine,” sana dismisses. “so you’re still on campus?”

“yeah. i just got out of class.”

“alright, i’ll be there in twenty.”

“okay. bye.”

“bye.” sana says, but lingers on the line. for a moment, you think she’s forgotten to hang up, and moves to do it for her until she adds, softly, cutely you might think.

“i’m excited to see you.”

your heart thuds, and she hangs up before you can even say something back.

for twenty minutes, you wait near the entrance of the school, fiddling with your phone until sana texts you to come meet her. finding the car quickly, walking towards the sleek, gray two–seater of her vintage mercedes, and opens the door to see sana grinning at you. a pair of dark sunglasses sit on the bridge of her nose.

“hi,” sana smiles.

“hi.” you say back, hating at how shy you still get around her, considering. sana, though, always appears to take a bit of pride to it.

she chuckles, leaning back in her seat and shifting the car into drive, pulling into the main road. you settle in to watch the hypnotic motion of her hands as she turns the wheel—it almost makes you nostalgic for some reason.

“so,” sana says, turning onto the street. “how was class?”

“fine. just sat through a lecture.”

“about?”

“well, just the study of psychosocial development of erickson. how the different stages can be embedded by sociological challenges. you don’t want to hear the rest from me.”

“ah.” you suck a smile in; seeing the cogs in sana’s brain turning. “sounds interesting.”

“it’s a lot to cover. my professor was telling us about how some guest speaker that’s gonna be presenting next month. apparently she specializes in existential psychotherapy so i’m thinking of seeing that when it comes.”

“that’s really cool. do you know the name?”

“no.” you appreciate the effort that sana is showing. elizabeth, as wonderful and cool she was, tended to block you out sometimes: on the occasion she ever needed to. “what about you? how was work?”

sana groans. “terrible. a guy was rolled in with a bullet wound and was hemorrhaging like crazy. i was able to stop the bleeding and get the bullet out, but the anesthesiologist almost od’d him and killed him. idiot.”

“wow,” you say. “is he okay now?”

“yeah. but i’m never having that dumbass with me at the table again.”

“you might have to, though. you’re a new doctor, sana, i don’t know if you have the luxury of writing off your co-workers.”

sana smirks. “i might.”

flicking the blinkers on, she turns on the road that leads them deeper into the upper west side. sana drives into a small parking lot behind a tall building before pulling into a space. once the car shifts into park and the keys are yanked out, you step out, mouth parting as you take in the veritable skyscraper in front of you.

“you live here?!”

“yeah,” sana says, taking your hand. seeing the stupefied expression, grinning and leading you inside. a red-headed doorman greets sana as you make your way across the lobby. the elevator didn’t even feel like an elevator and once you got past sana’s front door, you’re in full flabbergasted mode—eyes open like saucers. sana smiles at your gasp but when her eyes flicker to you they narrow.

“i thought it would be a penthouse of sorts.”

“trust me, it is but at the same time it isn��t.”

sana’s apartment may not be as lux as you initially thought, but it’s still nice regardless. you can tell that it was costly, dark furniture andwide, open spaces and tall windows. the walls are painted with a light grey. a flat-screen plasma tv hangs in her living room, mounted over a fireplace. the black velvet leather couch is in front of it, clearly brand new.

her voice echoes the walls. echoes. you’re left marveling. “are you hungry?” sana asks from the dining area, “i have some food from the other day.”

“what do you got?”

“some leftovers from this dimsum place, pretty good actually.”

you giggle. “i thought you would have a much more sophisticated diet to fall back on.” meeting her at the kitchen island while she opens the box of food, tossing a bite into her mouth while you’re scanning through the dumplings.

“this is delicous.” you say in between bites, sana leaning over pressing a kiss to your temple. “you’re not eating as much, not enough craving?”

“i had some food earlier.”

“how earlier are we talking?”

“before i scooped you up.”

you hum while she feeds you another bite of the warm dumpling that melts so tenderly into your mouth.

the relaxing downtime with sana felt like a completely different world in her house. you got to know sana’s rough run down backstory of how she got to some form of power when it comes to dealing with which practitioner helps with her or not. being well-connected in her line of work was something to be fortunate with, but sana doesn’t like the idea of wealth being wrapped around her. sure, her clothes may be nice, demeanor brash and language abrasive at times, but she sees the world in a more different light compared to tzuyu and elizabeth on the topic of privilege.

as for how she got into her career of being a surgeon, she signed up for dual-enrollment in the last two years of her high school to graduate early. the calling of med school already being long in terms of time, so the sooner she could get out, the better.

“i like that,” you say. “i like how your mind works. i like—”

you. you almost say it. and it aches to not project it, the sudden sting of yearning. you, you, i really like you.

but catching yourself tripping up was something more of a simple defensive mechanism. “the story,” you finish. “pretty funny.”

“i have better ones.” sana says, grin lighting up her face, more radiant than sunlight. and her obliviousness burns twice as hot. “do you wanna hear about the time my friend bang chan and his best friend felix got mutual restraining orders back in college?”

—

you’ve read the name of tobio kageyama for probably the thirtieth time in two manga volumes before your mind decided to call for a needed break.

sitting upright from the couch, stretching and popping joints across the body. a look at the clock shows that it’s a little past eight, realizing that you’ve studied for roughly about two to three hours. too bad you didn’t notice it before because your brain is already bugging and battered into mush.

so you head to the kitchen, glass cup filled before drinking it once or twice before noticing that sana hasn’t drank any water since she took up a fortress in her office two hours ago, claiming that she had a work call. you fill another glass again, dropping a few ice cubes, before making your way towards her office door–knocking once, “hey, you busy?”

sana’s voice sounds muffled, weary. “no, come in.”

entering the room, hesitant like you were intruding on some sacred space. like the rest of her house, sana’s office was nice, richly-furnished. she has a tall, wooden desk in front of her, several files and stacks of paper placed on top. there’s a bookshelf behind in the corner, thick tomes marked by names that you don’t even want to try to read or recognize. the walls are also painted in a dark gray, and there’s a leather couch off to the left side with a blanket placed over it. even sana needs to have her naps sometimes.

sana then calls for your attention, glasses perched on the bridge of her perfect nose. “did you need something?”

“no,” you say, inching closer. raising the glass, “i just wanted to get you some water.”

she smiles in thanks, taking it from you while she approaches with an outreaching hand, grabbing the glass downing it in one gulp. frowning with a mild concern once she gave you back the glass, “were you thirsty?”

“a bit. i didn’t feel it until now.”

“are you hungry?”

“not right now. i’ll eat when im finished with this.”

“you should take a break,” you say, stepping towards sana. you lean back with your butt to the edge of her desk, half sitting. up close, you can see sana’s stress more evidently, eyes low with exhaustion. “sit on the couch with me. we can watch something together.”

“i can’t do that, y/n.”

“why not?” would a short film be better?”

“i have paperwork. a lot of paperwork. not to mention forms, test results, patient files. i want to try to get through them by tonight.”

“and you will,” you reply softly, stepping between her legs, resting your hands on her shoulders. “just ten or fifteen minutes of your time, please.”

“no way we’re watching a movie in ten minutes.”

“not the movie, you idiot. i was gonna say food instead, you should eat.”

“‘m not hungry.”

“not even a snack?”

sana lets out a smile, placing her hands on your hips. “i appreciate you for being concerned, baby, but i’ll be done soon. i promise. then we can go get something to eat together.”

looking down at the ground, hands still on shoulder. you’re smoothening the crinkles of sana’s large shirt, fingers brushing up from her neck up to her hair. you lean down and kiss sana fully on the lips, slowly, once, twice, a few times, and rest your knee on her chair between her legs. you break away a bit to pepper languid kisses across the slope of her jaw.

“relax,” you croon. “take a break with me.”

sana sinks into you, sighing like she’s expelling a pressure from deep within her chest. her eyes flutter closed, hands twitching around your waist, and when you dip down to kiss her throat, you feel the flushing heat rising from her body.

desire races to the forefront like a freight train, bowling over you with its inteistiey, and you’re running a hand up her thigh towards the center. sana gasps sharply into your parted mouth, fingers clutching around your waist. you’re nearly smiling.

“you’ve eaten me out before,” you whisper. “but you’ve never let me do the same for you.”

sana laughs but it’s off, brimming with echoes of a dark promise. “i find it more enjoyable when i eat up your pussy then have you eat mine. better for me to see you cry the way i want you to.”

there’s a thrill pulsing through your body, throbbing dully in your cunt. you’re ducking down to kiss her again, practically panging into sana’s open mouth as you palm her through her pants. her face is screwed up with a tight coil of pleasure, eyes shut. her fingers dig into the leather armrests at her side.

“let me,” you whisper again, almost begging. “i want to.”

sana’s eyes crack open, solely, regarding you as though you were something to be consumed. i want to, you think with a sort of nameless, desperate sense of urgency. i want you to.

she nods, and you kneel at her feet.

you’re kissing through her jeans first, soft, affectionate little pecks that make sana groan, fingers sliding up her legs again. you help sana clumsily unbutton her pants, shucking it down and off her thighs. the panties are quick to follow, only first with a trail of your lips over the black-laced fabric, soaked with her wetness that fills up your nose. sana is wrecked with the effect you have on her, just some light kisses and heavy petting, making your cunt fucking clench; you don’t think you’ve ever met anyone who’s wanted you even half as much.

when sana’s panties are gone left with her shirt; the scent is intoxicating. her folds are glistening. she sighs of pure bliss when you lick up her slit, mouth lingering on her clit. her hips twitch from the initial contact. you stifle a smile when you shower a few more kisses, and she groans loudly when you part her legs, squeezing her inner thighs tightly the more you shove your face into her cunt.

you’ve eaten out girls before, but sana was more of an anomaly. to play it safe, you experiment, trying to see what she likes best. licking at her, teasing her walls with a finger, leaving teased kisses to the area outside of her pussy. sana can’t contain herself when she pulls your head back in with her hand, moaning into her core, the vibrations too overwhelming coming from your mouth to her legs.

“fuck,” sana moans. “fuck, y/n–baby, fuck. i’m gonna—”

nodding at her, you don’t let up the pace of tearing up her cunt. fingers in walls and grunting into her. she doesn’t even let you breathe. the heels of her feet on your shoulders as her hands are on the back of your head, nails scratching the scalp the more you’re lapping her up. only then you pull away as she coos out locking eyes with you, the sight of licking your mouth lean with your tongue from her slick almost makes her lose it from the seat.

“i’m gonna ruin you,” sana promises, snarling, gaze devouring, mad with want. it sends a deep vibration into your cunt while she looks up to the ceiling. “you won’t be able to walk.”

you could’ve just came right then and there, vision whiting out at the edges. somehow you kept your sanity in check, ducking your head for more fully. humming and sliding your tongue over her cunt, nibbling on her clit and with a sudden jerk followed by a sharp groan, she cums.

a whole assortment of papers, files, pens, and pencils are scattered to the floor as sana digs her hand beneath your shirt and rips it off of you. your lips meet hers for another frantic kiss, laying back as she’s settling over you.

she shoves your sweats down along with your panties, letting them dangle from your feet. sana then moves back to your chest, hands moving like a firebrand, searing your skin with every touch. desperate to feel more of it, you sit up slightly and unclasp your bra. the second you’ve tossed it, sana’s hands are quick to palm, mouth hot against your own as she swallows your keening sigh.

“you have the most perfect tits in the world,” sana breathes, thumbs circling your nipples, forefingers roving down to pinch. the sweet pleasure-pain sparks a heavy throb in your core, and she arches into you, spreading your legs wide. you moan when sana’s mouth is around your breast, the other hand folding you.

“god, sana, please,” you beg, clinging to her. your hips are twitching, the emptiness inside you turning into a physical ache.

“what is it, baby?” sana switches over to your other mound, tongue laving over your nipple. your eyes fluttering, mind spinning at the sight. “what?”

moaning helplessly, and her hand slides down to your cunt, thumb sliding up the wet gusset of your panties to find your clit. when she presses down, your hips jerk forward, shrieking. she’s laughing around your boob.

“yeah, there we go,” sana sighs out, rubbing at you languidly, moving slow with the roll of her hips. “that feels good, doesn’t it?”

“ye—ah—yes, yes it feels good.”

“i know.” sana kisses up to your throat, sucking the soft spot beneath your jaw, lips deceptively sweet. “but you want more, don’t you.”

more.

your stomach seizes at the thought of it, the promise. you grasp at her wrist and sana hisses, dipping her hand beneath underneath your underwear to slide a finger inside you. keening when she adds another digit, stretching you open—another sounds leaves your mouth and sana laughs when you’re clamping around her fingers.

“you feel so good like this, y/n. so good.” she watches as she fucks her fingers in and out of you, transfixed by the sight. almost resentful of her own body. “i wish i could live in you. i wish—”

“you could,” somehow croaking that out when she has four fingers inside. “i’d let you.”

sana lets her intrusive thoughts get the better of her, growling while she surges down your body. your panties are up in the air as she raises a leg up, thumb petting your clit. you’re rearing up with a shout, a splintering sound, bursting, but sana doesn’t give you any breathing room. next thing you know, she has the flat plane of her tongue swiping upward that pushes your undoing even faster.

it’s good enough to cry, you can feel the salt on your tongue when sana leans up again for another kiss before trailing down to your pussy. there’s a malformation with how the kisses are sloppier on your lips above and below, but the pleasure is good. she makes you feel like euphoria is an ever-present force that is kept within you, and it’s much deeper than the sex. the sprawling root of it is happiness, and sana.

“c’mon, y/n, my lovely girl,” sana says tightly, jaw clenching when she breathes over your clit. her eyes hazy like she might be the one to cum again. “give me another.”

you wrap your legs around her, canting up so that her mouth and tongue go deeper, and you both moan from it. sana’s finger finds your clit again, so wet the sound is purely obscene, but it only strokes the fire of your pleasure, makes it build higher and higher.

“that’s it. there we go. t-there—”

sana stops short. a bitten-off cry, and she doubles down on your clit. her fingers clench around your walls, and there’s a gentle wave—mouth parted to sigh.

she stays for a second, pulling her hand out examining the slimy fluid between the fingers, licking them seductively that makes you roll your eyes and look away. sana just laughs at you, “fuck you, for making me like this.”

your head hits the desk, “not sorry. i like it when you’re needy for me.”

she huffs out, “little minx. when i’m done with you—”

“what? i won’t be able to walk?”

sana’s face falls flat, but her eyes spark with lurid determination as she leans in and whispers, “everything i’ve gotten in life, i’ve had solely because i wanted it badly enough. you think that doesn’t apply to the things i wanna do to you?”

your heart hammers like a jack-rabbit. red-hot heat slowly consumes your face. “i—”

she moves off of you but keeps her arms bracketing your hips. “we’re moving to my room,” she interjects. “i need a bed if i want you to sit on my face.”

eyes were wide open while you managed to slip out of sana’s hold, scurrying to the bedroom down the hallway. sana’s signature laugh echoes as she chases you down behind.

—

it’s a bit chilly outside when mina calls you, the autumn weather creeping beneath your new coat to settle into your bones. hitching the collar up your neck for cover, and the phone is out from your pocket to see your cousin’s name. you’re repressing a sigh, picking up,

“hey.”

“yo.” mina has many greetings. “where are you right now?”

“i got out of class, walking to the subway.”

“are you by yourself?”

“yes,” you say. “obviously. why wouldn’t i be?”

“you usually have that slightly taller girl tagging along with you. the one with the model face.”

“tzuyu.” you correct sharply. “and you’re not wrong, but she has her own life. you know? a girlfriend?”

“and you? you got anyone?”

frozen, stumbling in your tracks. mina could be asking for curiosity, but you know your cousin too well; she’s not the kind to be asking unnecessary questions.

“no, i don’t,” you answer cautiously.

“are you sure?”

“why even bother asking me?” you retort, voice clipped. “even if i was seeing someone. i’d mention it right away, even with thanksgiving around the corner.”

“i don’t see what thanksgiving has anything to do with it.”

“most normal people introduce their partners to family, mina. not everything personal is some dirty little secret.”

“don’t you dare try to get snippy with me. i was just asking a question, not cuffing you to a table for an interrogation. chillax.”

you’re cringing with knitted brows, stepping down the stairwell into the subway station. it’s a lot warmer, “whatever. i just wanted to know why you were asking.”

“i was asking because you haven’t been calling me lately. i figured that someone else was taking up all of your time besides auntie.”

your jaw tenses. there’s this wave of guilt that makes your clinch your lip, voice much gentler when you follow up, “i’ve just been busy, mina. you know that.”

“yeah?” the customary ten seconds of loaded silence pass before mina adds, “speaking of busy, don’t come down for thanksgiving this year. i’m gonna be busy with work.”

work. the nameless occupation mina had never bothered explaining to you, not since you were in your teens. you’ve had your own suspicions and theories, but you never even had the frame of mind to confirm them yourself.

even with the disappointment; it’s actually comforting in a weird sense. “that’s fine. i have finals to get ready for anyway.”

“you’re not upset by this?”

“no.”

“and you’re not lying to me about anything, right?”

“no, mina.” you say, smiling ruefully. “why would i? when have either of us ever lied each other about anything?”

good as dammed, but there’s no care for it. i wouldn’t even matter anyway. it comes as a concern for how little tinges of that feeling is there still.

mina sighs out. “talk to you later then, if you do call me.”

you hang up after. the lasting thought of mina doesn’t even come afterwards.

—

not even more than two steps into the entrance hallway when the doorbell calls you.

you’re freezing, eating away at the fragile patience, but when you look through the peephole. you don’t think twice about opening the door. “tzuyu?”

she’s standing across from you, arms folded, foot tapping, and pouting. “you’ve been neglecting me.” she accrues.

“huh?” you ask stupidly while blinking in a fast state.

tzuyu rolls her eyes and breezes past you, chilling air carrying the rich scent of yves saint-laurent. you follow her into the living rom, watching her shuck off her louis vutton jacket and tosses it onto the seat.

“well?” she demands, whirling around to face you. “tell me what did she do to you?”

“what?”

“your little sugar mommy-doctor-girlfriend.”

“tzuyu–”

“whatever she did, she’s good enough to keep you from calling or texting your best friend for a week.”

“what?” you’re gasping out again. “a week? i haven’t…”

with a rush of the phone, you’re pulling up messages only to notice that you have, in fact, been ignoring tzuyu’s texts for the better part of a week. all of your besties messages. the only person you’ve kept consistent contact with is sana, and the last text you sent her was–

well—best to the imagination.

“i’m so sorry,” you breathe out, throwing your phone off to approach tzuyu, taking her mittened hands, gently directing her to sit on the couch. “i’m so sorry, tzuyu. i didn’t mean to ignore you or shuhua or irene or anyone, i just—”

“you’ve been preoccupied with your new girl?”

“yeah,” you admit, bit of shame hanging, but adding, “and school. dooyoung–the guy editing my thesis—says it’s coming together really nicely, so.”

tzuyu whoops, reaching out to shake your leg. “and you’ll be presenting it next semester! how do we feel about that?”

“pretty good.”

suddenly, her eyes soften, shifting closer. “i was mostly kidding, by the way, about you neglecting me. i remember how i was when i first got with shuhua. you couldn’t get me away from her.”

“it’s different, though.”

“what makes you say that?”

“because shuhua is your girlfriend and sana is my—”

you stop, horrified by the abrupt burn of tears. you turn away to conceal yourself, blinking hard, but tzuyu was always quick to notice. she wraps her arms around your elbow, leaning into your shoulder. “your sugar mommy,” she finishes gently, but you flinch like it’s a slap.

“yeah. that.”

“if it bothers you so much, then why are you staying with her?” i’m sure she’s given you enough that you have time to figure out another way to get money. it’s not like you need her.”

“yeah,” you reply dully, still not meeting eyes with tzuyu. your mind is playing the denial aspect a lot more tougher now. “you’re right. i don’t.”

—

with all things and struggles, you compartmentalize.

you’re refusing to think of the blooming feelings for sana more than you have to, and in the even that you can’t, distraction was the solution: school, work, friends. and on the rare occurrence as crazy it would seem, shopping.

“an IKEA drawer?” sana asks, baffled. you keep your phone between shoulder to ear. “why the fuck did you go to IKEA?”

“i needed to,” you answer, pushing the giant box inside of your apartment, leaning against the wall as it’s on the wall. “my other drawer was broken. i’ve had it for like, seventeen years, so i figured that it was time for a change.”

“and you could afford it?”

a rhetorical question. what sana’s really asking if the two bundred she sent you last week was a decent enough amount that you could splurge on. clenching your teeth, flushing.

“yes.”

“y/n, baby. i sent you the money so that you could go shopping.”

“i did. and i shopped at IKEA.”

“are you gonna build the drawer now?”

“yeah.”

“let me come over. i can build it for you/”

“sana, it’s fine. i’ve built furniture before.”

“so have i. in fact, i bet i could have it done in half the time it takes you to read the instructions.”

“oh really now?” cocking a brow in disbelief. “how soon can you come over?”

—

time didn’t really pass, staring at sana from the bed, chin resting on your palm as you watch her hiss and curse to herself, pink screwdriver in hand. the sweat rolls enticing down the hard ridges of her abs, her hair is up and out of her face in a knot. the most exhilarating part in all of this was watching him use her shirt as a sweat rag.

“are you sure you don’t—”

“i’m almost done,” sana snaps, eyes flashing with indignation. “just give me ten more minutes.”

true to her word, she was nearly done. the drawer stands tall in front of her, most of the pieces already constructed and put into place. all that’s missing is the top set of the drawers, which she has in her hands right now.

still, it’s only mildly entertaining just to watch sana. you debated studying to pass the time, but the focus wasn’t enough on your book to make it stick. reading was also out of the question, and texting irene went nowhere after she revealed that she was on a date and couldn’t speak. the news that things with her and seulgi were going well and exciting to hear, but not long after. sana’s shirt was off.

“it’s really fucking hot in here,” had been the excuse mainly.

“is this supposed to keep me distracted? you ask.

“i’m not trying to do anything. if you’re distracted, that’s your prerogative.”

liar. she’s been annoyed the second you stopped foching on her long enough to try facetime tzuyu.

you sigh, spitefully debating on what you can do to fluster sana. the limited options, though, tend to lean more in one direction and the idea of willfully doing any of them was embarrassing.

suddenly, she whoops. “i finished!”

you roll over on your stomach to see sana sliding the drawer into the top slot, circling it, pulling on different knobs to test the tightness and checking for smoothness of the pulling out and pushing in of the drawers. she grins at you, triumphantly. “i told you i could do it.”

“i never said that you couldn’t.”

“it was in your tone.”

you smile, and sana straightens up to bend something in her body. a loud crack sounds, followed by a pained sigh, and her eyes open more glazed. “fuck.”

soon after sana is laid flat on the mattress when you motioned her, face turned towards you with a look that says are you okay?

“my back. it’s been annoying me since work—fuck.”

you nick your head as you cautiously glide your hands over her skin, kneading the muscle softly, and sana just hums with relief. “keep doing that.”

straddling on sana’s ass, languidly moving your fingers up. she just melts. sana perks up when you giggle. “what?”

“nothing.”

“tell me.”

“i think it’s kinda bad for you to have back pain at your age, and it’s kinda mindblowing how active you are.”

“don’t be that dramatic, i’m not that old.”

“for someone that’s near thirty.”

“that’s a bit harsh.”

you giggle again before leaning down, lips skimming sana’s ear lobe. “i’m just teasing you.”

“you’re so fucked up for saying that, i’m only twenty-nine still.”

“don’t be so sensitive.” you say pressing a kiss to her nape. “not bad if you're in your early late twenties early thirties while i’m in my early twenties.”

sana sinks into you, like clay in your hands. when you move to the ridge of her cheekbone, she leans into you, turning her head to catch your lips. a languid kiss is shared, tongues melding, unhurried, but that fire is sparked between your hips and it becomes urgent. it’s a slow grind that’s rolled out, eyes fluttering at the friction.

you pull away while sana breathes out, “fuck,” and flips you over now that you’re straddling over her front. your hands are on her waist, and sana moves her leg up between your legs, doubling down on the notice that you’re not wearing anything underneath the shorts, lips parting.

she leans up to kiss you. sana always kisses you, mouth consuming like she wants to suck you inside. “i didn’t know you watching me build furniture would get you so hot.”

“everything you do gets me hot.”

sana moans and binds you up against her, hips bucking, delicious friction sending stars behind your eyes. you wrap your arms around her neck, panting into her mouth, so euphoric that you want to weep. so happy.

when she breaks way to squeeze your breasts, a loud knock sounds at the door, startling you. sana, however, is unmoved.

“ignore it,” she says, breath hot on your neck. “ride me.”

your eyes flutter and you’re grasping at her hair, already picturing it, the slick coming out of you on her leg, the fruition and contact deep enough to send you reeling. and then you hear it:

“y/n!” another loud knock, more insistent. “open the door!”

shit, you think, cursing, the word flying form your mouth now. “shit, shit.”

sana pulls away from you, concerned, but you’re already beating her in the scramble. she watches you rush to the mirror to fix your hair.

“what’s up? who is that?”

“mina,” you breathes, cold panic pulsing through your veins. “my cousin.”

“oh, well—”

“it’s a bigger deal than you think,” you snap. “and stay here. she can’t see you.”

sana’s eyes widen. “what–?”

“stay here, sana.”

you rush out of the room and hurry towards the front door. through the peephole, you see mina on the other side, arms crossed and expression stoic. you exhale deeply before opening the door, forcing a smile.

“hi, mina.”

she hums in greeting, shoulders knocking as she walks past you. when she spots the IKEA box, she stops short.

“you bought furniture?”

“yes,” you answer hesitantly, clammy fingers clasped behind you. “i needed a new drawer.”

“why didn’t you tell me?”

“i need to call you every time i buy furniture?”

“no. but these things sell for three hundred bucks. it’s expensive.”

“this one was on sale. one–fifty.”

mina makes a deep sound in her throat, unsatisfied, but her journey is continued throughout your apartment.

“so, uh. what are you doing here?”

“it’s thanksgiving tomorrow.”

“oh. i thought…you told me not to come. you said you were busy.”

“some time opened up in my schedule,” she says, and finally stops long enough to look at you. her eyes were shrewd, filled with knowing. it only raises the sirens going off in your head louder. “i decided to come see you.”

“ah,” you breathe. “well, um. i didn’t buy any food. maybe we can order–?”

“why are you so flustered? mina interrupts. “is there something going on?”

“what? no, no, of course–”

“mina?” icy pinpricks poke your skin, and you slowly turn around to see sana standing in the hallway. her clothes and hair have been fixed, and she smiles at mina with a polite curiosity.

your cousin’s expression sours instantly. “who the fuck is this?”

“mina!”

“who is this. why is she in you apartment?!”

sana walks towards mina, unphased by the insult. she sticks her hand out, “my name is minatozaki sana. nice to meet you.”

mina peers at sana, neck tilted at an angle that would be comical if not for the fact that you feel like throwing up. finally, she looks at you again.

“we need to talk.”

#hyunie #sana x reader #twice x reader #kpop x reader #kpop imagines #twice sana #sana #minatozaki sana #minatozaki sana x reader #twice x you #twice imagines #sana imagines #sana minatozaki #twice fluff #twice smut #sana smut #sana twice

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ginkgo-phyta · 30 days

Text

sneak peak alert!! here's one for my dom!spencer x reader smut fic. its still a wip, so hopefully this tides y'all over some. enjoy! 18+ mdni

(pay no mind to how ooc this is teehee)

“Watch.” Spencer hisses, shoving your head back to its original position. Uncontrollably, a faint whimper rips from your throat. You wordlessly do as you’re told, training your eyes on the man on the screen in front of you fucking his partner’s throat, her eyes watering and rolling back until all you can see are the whites. “C’mon, baby. Tell me what you like.” As your perched in his lap, Spencer’s voice is sickly sweet now mumbling against your arm, nipping it lightly. His left hand is under your shirt, fingertips barely playing with your hardened and sensitive nipples. His right hand is still on your back, moving between scratching your skin and teasing the waistbands of your shorts and panties. He’s driving you crazy.

The urge to close your eyes is hard to fight off, but you try your hardest. “I…” You’re breathless, despite not having even done anything yet, “I like how he’s controlling her,” you gulp as Spencer begins to roll one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, “a-and using her.”

“That’s what you want, hmm.” It’s not a question, so much as an observation. “You want me to use you like a toy?” Spencer leans in to mouth against your ear, “Want me to fuck your throat ‘til you can’t even speak?” Where did he learn to talk like this? Who is this man?

You know it’s not rhetorical. He’s waiting for an answer as his deep breaths whip strands of your hair around. He dips his head to press kisses onto the back of your neck. Your hands dig into his plush thigh as much as is allowed by the cloth of his pants stretched tight. “Yes,” you breathe out. Even to yourself it sound desperate.

“Oh, my dirty girl.” He drawls, roughly cupping your tit and kneading it as he wishes. “You want my cock, don’t you? Just wanna shove it down your throat?”

His words have your stomach turning cartwheels, and you moan at just the thought of his dick in your mouth. You’ve never yearned for anything so intensely, craved something so intrinsically. Nodding emphatically, you draw your bottom lip between your teeth.

This was going to be a long night, but you wouldn't want anything less.

comment, reblog, like! :D follow to stay updated on the release of the finished piece :P

link to my sub!spencer sneak peak

#18+ only #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid imagine

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matrixbearer2024 · 2 months

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Hey I have an idea for "Get Off My Screen" what if Y/N starts talking to Vox less and less and he is so confused so he goes through her phone to try and figure it out and sees her Instagram announcing a new bf and Vox is soooo jealous but she basically ignores his protests and so life goes on as normal for them both until one day he gets nosy and checks her texts on her phone with her bf and finds nudes from her and then he gets annoyed and lectures her about it which leads to her getting angry and ignoring him but then a few weeks later he checks Y/N and the bf's chats again and sees him threatening her

On a completely unrelated note I luv this series and also definitely need a Vox of my own in my phone cause I can't write or spell for shit lol

You Could Do Better(With Me)

Protective!Vox x CollegeStudent!Reader

WARNINGS: Mentions of Alcohol, Nudes, Blackmail, Manipulation

A/N: Okay this was actually pretty angsty, more on Vox's side because he's just dealing with a lot of emotional whiplash- most of which he doesn't really deal with well but he powers through it to be there for you. At this point in time he's kind of certain he likes you, but not that he loves you. Kind of like the: "Oh I'm really fond of this person, I want to make sure they're safe and happy." Without realizing the romantic implications nor how deep the level of attachment really is. So far, Reader's only kind of had a puppy-love crush on Vox but has blatantly disregarded it because well- Vox is fucking dead so what the hell are you supposed to do?? That and Vox constantly gets on Reader's nerves with his shenanigans so even if she gets the Cupid valentines filter when he cranks up the charisma- his stupid hijinks quickly do away with it and make him seem idiotic(cutely) again. The story also has a lot of emotional stuff so if you'd rather stick to the comedy feel free to skip this interlude and the one directly after it.

A/N: Either way, that's currently the pace these two are at- and this is a songfic! If you want to listen to the tune while reading- here it is! "Need You Now" by Lady Antebellum. The story itself is slightly different from the prompt since I made it centered around how Vox perceived things were going. As always, I hope y'all have fun and enjoy! Happy Reading!

youtube

Vox wanted to pretend everything was okay.

Walking through the halls of the Vee tower, he really wanted to play it off like nothing was bothering him.

And still, he found himself checking his phone for any updates or messages from you.

Day by day you were starting to slowly disappear from his routine.

He didn't notice it at first, how you were pulling away-

It was just the little things initially.

One word replies, emoji spam-

Vox figured you just weren't in the mood to listen or talk.

Did he do something that hurt you?

Up until the point that you both didn't really have any meaningful conversations anymore.

Which, as much as he tried to start anything proper-

It would always fall flat.

Were you still even trying?

He woke up one morning and followed his routine, shooting you a greeting before he started the day.

It just so happened that once he was finally able to check his phone to shoot you a wish goodnight-

You hadn't even replied to his morning message.

He was busy throughout the day, so he wasn't given the opportunity to worry about you.

But now, worry he did.

Vox quickly made his way towards his monitor room despite how late it was.

He went through your files, your pictures-

Wait.

Wait a goddamn minute.

Who the fuck was that?

He glitched slightly when he saw how that guy grinned in the picture.

It reminded him of his own, just so fucking fake.

Not to mention the air the person had around them.

They just exuded a great sense of showmanship and arrogance.

One Vox was all too familiar with.

That wasn't even the first picture you had with that person recently.

And the more the overlord looked, the more worked up he got.

He wasn't sure if it was anger, envy, irritation, or just a mix of everything under the sun.

Holding your waist, hugging you close, in some pictures your faces were so close together that you were almost kissing.

He was glitching in his chair from the emotional overload.

Who did this guy think he was to be able to treat you like that?!

Vox definitely punched a few screens from fury and jealousy.

Come the next day when he confronted you about it-

More like became a clear pain in the ass that you really couldn't ignore-

Making your computer practically unusable even-

Was when you revealed to him that you didn't mean to hide something like this.

You just simply forgot to say anything.

Vox didn't know if that was worse than if you tried to deceive him.

"Geez, so you have a boyfriend now?"

"Oh come on, you act like I'm not allowed to date. I'm a responsible adult Vox, not a kid."

The tech overlord only stared at the screen.

Was that really all you saw him as?

A digital guardian?

Just... someone who treated you like a kid?

He scoffed, he could count more times where he was the childish one.

That was stupid.

Besides that, he had more pressing matters to deal with.

What was this... horrible sinking feeling that was running through his systems?

It was like a weight that made him struggle breathing.

"Vox?"

"I'm still here. Can't believe you would forget to tell me something as important as this."

His claws dug into his armrests, he should've been happy you found yourself a partner.

If that partner just didn't remind him so much of himself.

"I'm sorry okay? I was really busy the last few days."

"The last few days? How long have you even been talking to this guy dollface?"

"Months? Probably? I've known him for a while now, he was the school crush when I was back in high school."

Vox wanted to convince you that this guy was bad news.

A walking red flag if you will.

He... should know.

Vox was at least aware of himself that much.

Still, he swallowed it all back and just replied to you again.

"I don't mind the fact you're off the market, hell- congratulations even! Just don't get into any sketchy shit. You know, anything that could be used against you as blackmail."

"Yeah yeah, I know what I'm doing Vox. Seriously, don't worry about it!"

You simply brushed off his worry, typical.

That just made the suffocating feeling even worse.

He didn't even know where it came from, or why.

"Oh yeah! I've got a boyfriend now!"

Those words replayed in his head like a bullet to the skull.

The day hadn't even started.

And Vox already wished it was over.

This just continued for a while, your presence in his schedule became negligible and Vox was falling back into his old vices.

He became snappy, irritable, just downright intolerable to be around.

The employees were feeling it, the Vees were collateral-

Not even Valentino could placate Vox's current horrid state.

It's been a week.

Vox stopped bothering to message you in the morning.

But he didn't stop checking if you would message him even once or twice.

It was pathetic.

And another.

Vox broke more than a dozen phones from just throwing them around.

He drank himself to sleep every night.

Valentino and Velvette were getting tired of having to dump his wasted ass on his bed every time.

And another.

Vox holed himself up in his monitor room whenever he wasn't needed.

No one could get him to come out.

Not even for food or water.

If he needed anything he would get it himself.

It was a long day of broadcasts and meetings, another monotonous cycle in his fast-paced life.

Vox intended to just drink until he passed out again, but he somehow found himself drunkenly stumbling through the halls of the Vee Tower into his monitor room.

He honestly didn't even know what he was doing this time.

The overlord fought to keep his own head up as he collapsed in his chair.

He glanced over to the side your computer's screen was connected to and let out a shaky sigh.

God, he fucking missed you.

Against his better judgement, Vox connected himself to your devices again.

He went straight to your playlist and just pressed start.

Picture perfect memories, scattered all around the floor~

Vox spun around in his chair, letting the music ebb and flow into his brain.

He took another swig from the bottle of alcohol in his other hand, squinting at the screens.

Everything was just kind of fuzzy.

Reaching for the phone cause, I can't fight it anymore...

It took him by surprise when one of the screens showed your living room.

Had you connected him to your TV again?

"Vox...? Are you there?"

And I wonder if I've ever crossed your mind?

He was too out of it to properly say anything, Vox couldn't recall if the words that stumbled out of him were even coherent.

"Dude... you look like shit."

Listening to your voice gave him a slight moment of sobriety.

"Likewise dollface."

For me it happens all the time...

"Are you wasted??"

"Erm, not really. Just buzzed."

He was able to take a good look at you then, your eyes were red and puffy like you'd just been crying.

It's a quarter after one, I'm all alone and I need you now...

"What the hell happened to you?"

"Uh... well... you know that guy I was dating?"

Vox took a swig of alcohol before he replied, there was no way he was making it through his conversation unless he was drunk out of his circuits.

"My personality copycat? Yeah, what about?"

Said I wouldn't call, but I've lost all control-

"Your personality- what??"

"Dollface, do you seriously think I wouldn't notice how much of a walking red flag that asshole was?"

You paused as he took another swig of his drink, Vox didn't miss that look of guilt and pity in your eyes.

"But you just called him your copy."

"And? I know I'm a piece of shit. Takes one to know one."

And I need you now...

"Whatever, I don't think you'd stoop as low as he did."

"That's for me to judge, what did the bastard do?"

He saw the slight tremble in your posture, your voice cracked as if you were holding back sobs.

And I don't know how I can do without-

"I- I knew I should've listened to you. I sent him compromising pictures and he... he-"

"You sent him nudes and he used them to blackmail you didn't he?"

You flopped back down on the couch and his unfocused eyes met your watery ones.

So that's why you'd been crying.

I just need you now...

"It doesn't feel good to have your trust broken by someone you gave your heart to I'd reckon."

You scoffed at him, wiping away your tears as they continued to fall.

Vox so badly wanted to make it stop, but he didn't trust himself to be lucid enough to say the right words.

"Well wouldn't you know? I'd bet the women over there would throw themselves at your feet."

Another shot of whisky, can't stop looking at the door...

Vox couldn't tell if it was his imagination or not that made it seem like he heard jealousy in your voice.

There wasn't any reason for you to feel envious anyway.

He took another swig of alcohol before meeting your gaze once again.

Wishing you'd come sweeping, in the way you did before~

"So what if there are? I'm too busy to pursue a dedicated relationship. I mean- have you seen the amount of shit I have to deal with every day?"

You looked dejected by his answer, or at least that's what Vox thought.

Yeah, he was absolutely wasted.

And I wonder if I ever cross your mind?

"So what did you do? Did you break up with the guy?"

"Can't. If I do, he'll release all my pictures online."

Vox hummed, pulling up a window on your computer for you to interact with.

He was a paranoid man as is, but this just proved it didn't hurt to have precautions in place.

For me it happens all the time...

"What is that?"

"Something I made for all your files months ago."

"What does it do?"

Vox took another swig from his bottle.

It's a quarter after one, I'm a little drunk and I need you now...

"A safeguard, all files you send from your devices can be irreversibly corrupted remotely. An encryption thing, I tried to tell you about it but you didn't respond."

He wasn't surprised that you pressed the prompt to start the file corruption process on those pictures you'd sent.

Hell, everything you sent the rat bastard that broke your heart.

Honestly, the fucker didn't even deserve you.

Neither did Vox if he had to be honest with himself.

Said I wouldn't call, but I lost all control-

The overlord stayed silent as he drank once more from his bottle of booze.

It was nearly empty at this point, not that he cared.

He could only assume you were watching the progress bar load which was why you didn't say anything.

And I need you now...

Vox just watched as you eventually got up and used your phone to call someone.

A smug smile worked onto his face when he realized who you were talking to.

After all, you'd only curse like a sailor when you were genuinely mad.

And I don't know how I can do without-

"You're kind of hot when you get angry you know?"

"Pfft, is that why you like to piss me off then?"

"Maybe, though I usually do just to get a reaction out of you anyways."

I just need you now...

Vox saw you roll your eyes, a smile finally gracing your face and he couldn't help but return it.

"I just became single again and you're already hitting on me huh?"

"Whaaaaat? I would never."

Vox humored you well into the morning hours.

The both of you talking once again like old times.

Like nothing even happened.

Eventually it got to the point you had fallen asleep on the couch right in front of the TV during one of Vox's stories.

The overlord let a soft genuine smile appear on his face at the sight.

At least you were okay again.

He swirled the remaining alcohol in the bottle and threw his head back as he downed the rest of it.

Finally feeling the exhaustion catch up to him, both emotionally and physically-

Vox's screen dimmed as he succumbed to slumber right alongside you in his chair.

A/N: HOOOOLY SHIT THIS CHAPTER IS LONG- this was an absolute UNIT of a segment but it gets better in the next one I promise, besides- I don't want to doom Vox and Reader by the narrative, that would just be a sucky ending. We'll still have more emotionally vulnerable stuff in the next interlude so if that's not your cup of tea feel free to skip it too.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #vox #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin vox x reader #vox x you #Get Off My Screen Series

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allisonlol · 5 months

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Ah, a Jouno simp...I've always been more of a Chuuya and Fyodor simp. Having said that Jouno is fast becoming a new contender. On that note..if you get time (uni is a real time eater) could we maybe get headcanons on ideal types of woman for Chuuya, Jouno & Fyodor please

a/n: chuuya and fyodor are on TOP too! jouno was love at first sight tho <33 but i would love to do this for u!! keep in mind y'all this is my OPINIONNNN so be nice or else. felt like i was writing kunikida's list of ideals LOL

warning: fem reader

(Chuuya, Jouno, Fyodor) And Their Ideal Woman

Chuuya

i feel like he's...not really picky??

like as long as ur decently nice and somewhat confident he'd be down to get to know u

i feel like chuuya would definitely be drawn to someone who puts a lot of effort into their appearance tho. he does the same so it's not a double standard!!

^such as well-put together outfits and styling ur hair or makeup to match

this is random but i think he likes girls who wear glasses...it's fine if u don't but bonus points if u do!! especially the round frames

doesn't care about height much. but if ur taller than him don't tease him too much or he'll be insecure :(

personality wise, i think chuuya would like someone who is sweet and a little shy, but knows when to stick up for themselves? like not a pushover

someone who is soft-spoken would be a nice contrast to his hotheadedness and bring out his softer side <3

Jouno

his type is me. next

all jokes but i think jouno would like someone who is very similar to him

^you would have to have a substantial amount of things in common to get close to him in the first place, since he doesn't waste his time on anyone

i'm thinking someone who is quick to aggravate, reserved, and sarcastic

there's a lot of playful banter instead of flirting

appearance doesn’t matter much since he can't exactly see you lol. but he would like to lightly trace over ur face and such to picture what you look like

due to his enhanced sense of smell he would love someone who smells good all the time...like regularly uses lotions and perfume but doesn't over-do it (too much would give him a headache)

^has an inclination towards sweet and warm scents, like vanilla. claims the florals are "too overpowering" (although he likes cherry blossom)

i also feel like jouno would like someone with longer hair. he likes running his hands through it or playing with it :)

Fyodor

he likes anyone who will shut up and sit down to obey his order <3

i'm only partially joking here. he would need someone who will typically submit to him

^doesn't mind pushback once in awhile tho. likes the debates that come up if you question or disagree with him

fyodor would like someone who is very quiet, softspoken, and intelligent. the less friends you have, the better too!

^wants you all the himself lol. if you're very introverted, he won't have to worry about you getting close to anyone else as much (did someone say...possessive...)

does want someone who is close to his intellect but doesn't match it. he wants to be able to teach you things and feel superior

don’t bash me here BUT i think fyodor would like a woman who fits that “trad wife” stereotype. like just chills at home and does housework for him. he tends to neglect taking care of himself and his surroundings so he appreciates if you care for him in that way

i also believe fyodor would be drawn to someone who's style resembles his own. i have a very distinct image of a woman with dark hair, elegant clothing, dark makeup

another one who appreciates if you put a lot of time into your appearance

immense bonus points if you're also russian or can speak the language

taglist: @deadmitochondria @miycutie @scul-pted @exorcisedstraydog @chuuyasboots @shy-socially-awkward-intovert @beandaifuku @stygianoir @sonder-paradise @dreaming-of-ambedo @nervousyetconfidentway @beautiful-is-boring @irethepotato @serenareiss @thescrunkly @ashthemadwriter @mrsdostoevsky @creamygojo @disa-ster

#bsd x reader #bsd x y/n #bsd x you #chuuya x reader #fyodor x you #chuuya bsd #chuuya x you #chuuya x y/n #jouno bsd #jouno x you #jouno x reader #jouno x y/n #fyodor x reader #fyodor bsd #fyodor hcs #jouno hcs #chuuys hcs #bsd imagines #bsd hcs

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smolvenger · 4 months

Text

It's Christmas, After All (Loki x fem! Reader Oneshot)

Summary: It seems you are spending Christmas alone...until Loki joins you.

Word Count: 4987

Warnings: SMUT!! 18+ (Thigh riding, blowjobs, sex on a chair and table, doggy style, p in v sex, orgasm denial), Spoilers for Loki season 2, lots of angst in the beginning with loneliness until it becomes tooth rotting mega indulgent fluff. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, y'all!

DICK-Tionary: Smut starts at "Gladly" and ends at "Panting, you held onto each other as he helped you down."

A/N: Hi there @loz-3!! I am your Secret Santa for @fictive-sl0th's event! Happy Holidays and I hope you enjoy it and don't mind how super indulgent and wild it gets! Happiest of holidays to you!!! :) I hope it makes you happy this season and all year around!!!

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr @loz-3

It should be a special day.

But here you were. Doing the same things as normal. Your same coffee. Your same breakfast. Your same place. Scrolling the same apps on the same phone. The same sky. The same weather. Only with some festive decorations around the place. Once it had cheered you up to see lights amid the gloomy weather. Now it made the place seem gaudy.

Social media was all the same. Smiling, happy people with their families and significant others and friends. How was it that people had big friend groups in real life as adults and did things together constantly? It felt like no matter how hard you reached out at work….they weren’t interested. You saw one girl from college with her husband and two little kids all in matching pajamas. You wished partly to get one of those pajamas. Because no matter what tacky red plaid set you got, you at least belonged to a group that all wore the same set. That you were included. One of something.

It didn’t feel like a holiday or a special day. Especially not Christmas- the day that was supposed to be the best of the year. To think you didn’t have work. Then at least you would have something to do, to get your mind off everything.

But no. Only quiet, lonely, long hours on a day of gathering and joy. Only there was no one to gather with. And the joy you were trying to make yourself feel…was nothing.

You were living on your own with a roommate. And she was off with her boyfriend to be all heart eyes and then eat casseroles with his family.

Your parents had booked a trip. They said they were sorry but next time they would bring you. And off they were at some tourist spot. You wished you could go- as tacky as the place was, as much as you had seen it top to bottom… it meant you could at least play cards and drink wine and cook meals with them on this holiday.

All of your friends lived far away in other places. Some were doing amazing things. Incredible jobs and opportunities. Greatness was reached for them…..but not for you. Some lived in town but grew apart- getting married. Or onto their own lives. Regularly posting pictures about their own “best friends.” Best friends who weren’t you.

You had befriended the Avengers, but off they went to either save the world or to their own families to celebrate. You knew Thor and Loki would go to Asgard for a feast with their family to commemorate Yule. Much less Loki- the handsome, charming trickster god probably had better things to you than deal with you...at least any more than friendship. A tiny one began between you two as you talked. But no…you were overthinking. What would he even see in you? You likely weren’t even his type! At least he didn’t notice your ogling when he was in the room. But…he was a god. He could have whoever he wanted….and not likely you.

You looked down at the texts you sent over to your sister and her husband. They were the only true, close friends in town you had.

“Hi there Sydney! I'm just asking- could I come over for Christmas? I want to just hang out!”

It was sent and Read on December 20th. No reply.

Then at the text over with your brother-in-law.

“Hey, there Sam! Can I come over and celebrate with you guys? I can bake something and bring it over! Plus I can’t wait to see your faces when you open my gifts!”

Sent December 22nd. No reply.

Once you have done everything together with your sister. Then she got married and suddenly…she had someone else. And you had no one. You then still tried to reach out to them. Going to movies, enjoying little family dinners, hanging out, and even sleeping over at each others’ houses.

Now…nothing. You looked at another text you sent them.

“Hey, Sydney! I’m free tomorrow- want to watch that movie we both discussed for the longest time seeing?”

Sent on December 18th. Read. No response.

It was like you no longer mattered to them anymore.

You wanted to yell at them. You wanted to march over to their place, open the door, and scream at both of them. Throw an angry tantrum like a child. How dare they ignore you. Leave you alone- they were all you had. The only live friends they had outside of a bunch of superheroes and gods who were always busy. You wanted to throw something at them. Yell that they never replied to your messages. That suddenly you were ignored and unimportant. That they were all you had and accusing them of treating you like dirt. Call them out for their shortcomings as you cursed and called them harsh words. You wanted to tear them both apart.

But…that was Destroying what good relationships you had with your sister and your brother-in-law. At least that’s what your mother would say.

But…you knew there was a chance they were both working on Christmas with their jobs. They worked night jobs and slept all day. They refused to go to things you planned to do with them due to “needing to sleep.” They had to make ends meet and It wasn’t fair on their end.

Yet on Christmas, it wasn’t fair on their end.

You ruminated more on them. Sydney and Sam, spend their days sleepily cuddling, binging streaming shows, cooking, and working nights. Discussing baby names and having one when they clearly couldn’t afford the rent increase. Their impracticality and sometimes immaturity. yet you loved them. But it was like they were in a bubble. Wrapped up in their little world. At least, Happy and in love. You wanted to be in love, to be loved, wanted, included….and here you were…alone.

Unloved. Unwanted. Unincluded.

You knew if you watched any Christmas movies, you would be surrounded by images of people smiling in groups. People were with their spouses, lovers, friends, and families all smiling and happy. Even if there was conflict like in any movie and someone was left in solitude…later they would all hurry in full of chatter and laughter and smiles. Because belonging, being wanted, was now just a fantasy.

You sat down on the couch and cried. What was worst of all - It was your favorite holiday. The lights, decorations, hope, music, food, beauty, joy- yet you were spending it alone.

Because you weren’t wanted anywhere by anyone.

You were spending it and closing the year as a failure. A lonely, awful failure.

The tears rolled down, making you gasp for breath and continue to sob. Curling up in the fetal position on the couch, crying, crying away until you were gasping for breath and snot running down your nose.

You heard some talking outside. It was colder- though a couple you knew, Mr. and Mrs. Malloy, was walking around. They lived in the big house across the road. They were dressed in their designer furs holding portable cups that you knew were homemade chocolate-peppermint espresso. Mr. Malloy with his brown hair, sharp green eyes, and a face that looked more like Handsome Squidward than an actual person. Mrs. Malloy with long, shiny red hair that was soft and full of products and curled to perfection, and her face was perfectly done with makeup products that were three times your car insurance. You could already smell the cologne and perfume from in your house. They smelled of money and loved to flaunt it to everyone.

As they strutted, a stranger walked by. Hands in pockets. A tall man in a big red puffer winter jacket with a black beanie hat that hid the top of his head walked by. It was hard to make out his face. They accidentally bumped into him.

“Watch where you’re going, asshole!” barked Mrs. Malloy, gripping her cup with her designer gloves. “I almost got coffee on me!”

“I’m sorry,” voiced the stranger. He bowed his head down, genuinely ashamed.

A decent person in the Malloy’s position would have acknowledged and accepted the apology. Perhaps even laugh it off- the coffee was still untouched and their clothes intact. Assure the stranger it was alright.

The Malloy’s were not decent people.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it! Just leave!” sneered Mr. Malloy.

The couple huffed and walked away past him. Taking sips from their drinks. Their noses up in the air.

The stranger behind lifted an ungloved, white hand towards them. His fingers swirled in the air. Then he fled to the far corner to watch.

Then as Mr. and Mrs. Malloy looked down their cups, sensing something was off. When they did, they let out a scream.

Out of the lid, instead of steaming espresso were a lot of tiny brown snakes that slithered out of the cup and down onto the ground. You let out a gasp where you stood watching.

The couple tried to stomp at them, but in vain- the tiny snakes were as invincible as cockroaches. Mr. and Mrs. Malloy screamed and ran away to their three-story house in fear.

You burst into laughter so much your cheeks hurt and your face felt warm.

It then hit you- you knew only one person even capable of that.

The man returned from his corner, his face turning to see you. He gave you a wink. You gave him a smile and a wave.

With a tilt of his head, the jacket turned to a dark brown peacoat and his hair was long, dark, and curly. An ivory face with cheekbones that could cut steel and sweet blue eyes. Hands casually in his pockets. The most beautiful man in all the realms you had ever seen.

At once, you threw on a jacket. You hurried to open the door. Loki walked to you with a smile.

“You’re here?!” you asked.

He gave a shrug

“If I have to tolerate my father’s Yule feast for one more minute, I was going to go mad,” Loki announced.

You took a step closer to him. The air was chilly, though not cold enough for snow.

“But why here? Why me? You could go anywhere….” you mused.

He let in a tight breath, raising a hand to brush through his curls.

“I may be a god of lies and deceit…but I…I didn’t want you to be alone today, my dear,” said. “And you, a great beauty of Midgard, alone on an auspicious day- it didn’t seem right.”

Chest fluttering from the complement. You…in just your sweater and jeans, a great beauty?! Yes, he could flirt and charm a statue to blush. That was his nature. Compliments rolled off him like his magic. You better not think any more of it.

Your whole self was bursting with gratitude and happiness. To have company, especially on Christmas of all days. To not be alone anymore.

Wiping off a few stray tears, you ran forth and tackled him in a hug, crying and laughing as he hugged you back. Accepting it. You were both lonely souls, not wanted, not chosen. So it was fate that a god should cross paths with a mortal with whom he shared so much of his pain.

“Come inside and get warm,” you offered.

He smiled, looking at the grey sky. The ground was grey with gravel and green from the grass.

“Let’s make something to get warm from,” he suggested.

With a flick of his hand, the temperature shot down. You shivered further into your coat. Then it began to snow down big, white puffs. You smiled, letting a hand out to feel them. How soft they were! Their tiny, intricate patterns where none were the same. A small laugh came out despite you.

“It’s beautiful! Now it really feels like Christmas!” you praised.

You didn’t realize the god of mischief looking at you, the white flakes falling on his dark hair and the rims of his long eyelashes. A softness on his features. His own heart picked up at the happy look on your face. His smile was soft.

“Alright- now let’s go inside,” you offered.

His hand reached up magic pouring through and around.

His magic went around in little golden slivers that went around the place. You gasped as it transformed everything it touched. Your jaw dropped at the transformation.

It was turned into a perfect Christmas home- a crackling fireplace grew from the wall with two green stockings. A turkey dinner complete with every side dish you could name was served on the table. Its delectable smell made your mouth water. A record player opened with the overture of Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker ballet, the beautiful, playful, and mischievous music ringing through and sounding better than any ho-hum Christmas song the radio blasted ten billion times. Because it was from him. From Loki. And as you looked at the tree, with even more glittering gold decorations around it, a few resembling the horns on his helmet, a beautiful star sparkled on top. You gasped when you saw the skirt- there were piles of presents in green wrapping paper with gold ribbons. They weren’t there before.

You went to one like a little child full of both innocent greed and wide-eyed curiosity. You picked it up and shook it, feeling something in there.

“Are the gifts…real?” you asked.

“Of course- and a good portion of them are for you!” he replied.

The music moved onto the second part of the ballet’s first act- “Un fete du noel.” Soft strings and flutes over repeating lower strings full of anticipation and joy.

“Oh, but Loki…I..this is…so much, I-”

“If it weren’t for you, I’m sure I’d be either strangled to death or stuck in a tree of my creation! And I promise you they aren’t all pranks. Only one-quarter of them.”

“Thank you!” you gasped.

You went up and hugged him. So overjoyed, you pecked him on the cheek. He blinked in surprise. As you turned around, the god himself blushed pink.

Giggling, you picked up a present. The pranks were ones that were empty until the ribbons became little sparkling fireworks that made you laugh.

Then there was one that was empty when suddenly your clothes were transformed from your plain sweater and jeans to the fancy Christmas outfit of your dreams. It was a deep green dress made of velvet with a fitted waist and a long skirt, like something the ladies of White Christmas would wear. You felt….felt beautiful in it. You smiled at him in thanks.

They own were things you long craved for, and wanted. Beautiful things. And practical things. Things outside of your budget. Things that would help make life easier. Or a little beautiful. The very things you wanted. If you wanted it desperately there it would be laid. Lovely, lovely things. You were crying- but tears of happiness.

Loki merely sat on the couch, smiling at you. Beneath his peacoat was his average Midgard wear. A shirt and brown khakis that were both deliciously tight. A tie that made him seem like a professional office worker. As he eventually took off the coat and rolled up his sleeves, you stifled the urge to gawk at him.

“Oh, and your presents!” you gasped to Loki.

“I’m out of my father’s palace, what more could I need?’ he asked smoothly.

You felt warm and tingly inside but ignored it.

“Oh no! You deserve something too! I…I got you two gifts! They were on sale and I couldn’t pick just one. I hope it’s…it’s alright!” you offered.

You ran into your room. The music still tinkling, moving onto the Dance of the Snowflakes. He used his magic to open the curtains to see the window. The beautiful snowy day. People ran out to play, children giggling. To think…though he was a Frost Giant and feared, his magic could do a little good.

You emerged out with two boxes. One small and one big in red wrapping paper. He opened up the smaller box and found a set of fine brushes and combs. He grinned at them, testing the bristled with one of his beautiful, long fingers.

“I didn’t know how you cared for your hair- I always thought it looked nice- I thought you could use some!” you suggested.

He gave a small laugh looking at them.

“They’re perfect! I could always use them- Mother used to scold me for not tending to my hair! These I will treasure,” he assured you.

He then began to open the second bigger one. His eyebrows lifted as he got to the box and removed the lid. Inside was a thick, knitted black scarf. He smiled at it, testing it by wrapping it around him. It fit around him like it was made for him.

“You know me well, my dear. Thank you,” he replied.

With grumbling stomachs, you went over to the table. He conjured black cloth napkins and had one placed delicately on your lap. It was like being at a much fancier restaurant than being at your apartment.

You sat down and enjoyed the dinner- the meat was tender and full of flavor. The sides were all of your favorites, hot and freshly made. The desserts and sweets were full of powdered sugar that melts in your mouth. You had to suppress the sounds you made at tasting them. Loki had to remind you to slow down and taste it, enjoying it.

You showed one of your favorite Christmas movies. He asked questions and you laughed and explained everything. He looked at the commercials that played on the TV and then one featured Santa Claus. He tilted his head at it.

“Hmm, he looks like my father. Father was one of the inspirations for this Claus figure- did you know that?” he commented.

“Really! Though- Santa Claus is much nicer! I assure you!” you promised him.

The fire roared and it was quiet. He conjured two mugs of mulled wine. You sipped and smiled at the hot, spicy drink. The alcohol burning you a little, but relaxing you. You both let out a cheer for the holidays. The sun outside began to set early as it always does on a winter day. You both chatted- about Thor, your family and work, about the Avengers, the gifts, all sorts of things. He then looked around the place, finishing the wine with a last sip as he sat on the chair.

“Loki…I cannot thank you enough. I know I said thank you a hundred times today- but…why did you do all of this….for me? Not just to get away from Odin, but…you didn’t have to give me all of these gifts and a nice meal and make my place pretty…”

He cupped his mulled wine mug with both hands.

“Because…because…my dear, because….” he began to stutter.

He paused. His blue eyes were big, but never left yours. A god full of magic…and he was nervous!

“I really don’t know how to say this,” he continued.

Your throat went tight and your heart raced wildly. Wondering if this was a dream.

“But I feel sometimes…you and I…are tied together. No matter how hard I try to stop, you always appear there in my head. At every time of the day. You….you who have stayed by my side. Listened to me. Cared for me…And I find I want to return to you. Even if I had to crawl on my knees to get to you, I would. Because, my dear, I…I have…soft feelings for you, my dear…tender feelings…”

Unable to take it, you set down your mug and grabbed his shoulders, pulling him into a kiss. were on him like an animal. His hands reached over to your waist. You kissed him- tasting the hot spiced wine he had been drinking. His hand went to you.

It wasn’t long until he had backed up. He sat on a chair and at once you straddled him.

His breath hitched- he was getting hard and you felt him right on your pants. You held his face and kissed him. He was groaning as you did. There were wet noises from the kissing.

“Dear girl, darling, sweet girl…I want to take you on each surface and ruin you in every way,” he said.

“Then start here- with this one,” you offered with the chair. “Ruin me then.”

With a flick of magic, your clothes changed. You were in deep green lingerie of a babydoll and high lace stockings and a lace thong you were certain was green too. He was only in black pants and a santa shirt that was wide open, showing his delicious wide chest with black chest hair and six-pack.

He smirked at you and said one word.

“Gladly.”

Holding onto him, you ground against him as you kept kissing his neck, his shoulders over his shirt. He moaned at the touch. You went to his neck-sucking on as you touched each bit of him. His large, delicious hands feel the lingerie on your mid body and your legs. You heard him chuckle.

“I see my little pet is eager,” he began.

He set you on his thigh and you gasped.

“Here you go- ride this first. Get yourself ready- and I want those sounds of yours loud. So I know what pleasure I can give you.”

You began to roll your hips. He moved it up and down, eyes brimmed with lust as he watched you.

You let out one moan- his leg hitting your thin panties, already getting wet. Then as you grinded on his leg again, you let out another louder one like he commanded. You saw his erection even on the darkness of his pants as you did. His hands touched your body beneath the babydoll, squeezing your hips. Then going up, holding both of your breasts, squeezing and feeling them.

His chest was revealed- wide and strong pectorals, with a little hair. Abdominal muscles with a six-pack made of ivory. You rode his thigh for another minute, letting your thong get ruined with how soaked you became. Then you leaned forward, grinning. You began to kiss his chest. Then you used your tongue and licked it. The hot skin beneath you, a little salty from his sweat. He moaned in turn.

“Yes…I like that…that too, my dear- keep…keep going…”

You then stopped, smiling at him.

“I have to thank you first…for everything you did today,” you giggled.

At once you got on your knees, eagerly finding the zipper of his pants and undoing it. Out sprang his large cock, white pearls dripping off of the tip. So hard it was touching his stomach.

“See…see what effect you have on me, pet? What you do to me- even when you just smile at me…we need to take care of that…”

“Yes…let me….” you grinned.

You set your lips around his cock and began to suck at it. He let out a groan. His hands find the top of your head. You sucked at it like it was candy, as saltier than the rest of his skin. As you did, you swirled your tongue over the tip and he hissed out your name. He began to experimentally thrust a little inside you. Though your eyes burnt, you took as much of it as you could- for he was a god even with the size of his length. His shudders through him.

“Yes…good girl, my good, good little mortal- taking your god's cock in your pretty lips, on your knees- yes-good fucking girl,” he voiced out.

You felt him tense up, a small release as he gasped. You then went up, wiping off his cum that dripped down from your mouth. At once you got up and had him watch as you swallowed. His own body stilled. His cock still raging hard. One of the benefits of being a god- he was always horny and ready and didn’t take long to want more after he came.

“Norns,” he voiced in awe.

Then you mounted him, still hard.

You kept at it, lapping up his skin- kissing him on that delicious chest and on his shoulders. You could feel yourself get even wetter as he did.

“My darling-I-I cannot take it-I- have to be inside of you…” he breathed out, his voice raspy.

His hands gathered your skirt to your waist and he ripped apart the thong of your own creation. Your wetness cold from the sudden exposure. You wrapped your legs on the couch to mount him. At once you plunged inside. You let out a cry from the size as you adjusted. You began to ride him- your breasts bouncing.

“Ah- ah!oh-oh-Loki- fuck, yes- there-yes, I love-I love you-fuck!” you were moaning’

“Yes-yes-take your god like a good girl- all of it-all of me-”

He groaned and made a small sound. As he pounded away. You felt yourself speeding up, the high, about to reach bliss when….when he stopped. His hands are on your waist.

“I want to take you like a whore now,” he said. “Would you like that?”

“Yes…yes please,” you said.

He picked you up, legs around. He kissed you, still tasting himself on your lips and breath. Your hands still fisted around his curls. still around and brought you to the table. The plates and silverware made a sound like a crash as they fell to the floor as he shoved them aside.

He had you bend down over it. He let out a guttural breath with a smile at the sight of your bare ass over it for him. He gave you a strong spank and you let out a small yelp. Gripping the table on the other end for what was about to happen.

“Who is your god?” he asked.

“L-Loki is.”

He spanked you again. You let out a cry.

“Who gave you all of this-?”

“Loki did!”

“And you will pay back by being my obedient little girl, will you?” he asked.

“Yes, yes please-”

He thrust inside you from behind. You let out a cry. His breaths were low pants. He pounded in, the table shaking. What plates and silverware and food there was shaking with it. Your hand became a tight fist as he pounded on. It was so rough, hard, and filthy, you couldn’t help but love it.

He pulled you roughly up, your own moans with each filthy thrust of his.

“Yes-even here- you will take…take your god's cock in every way. Yes- yes, there-fuck-norns-what you-you do to me-your god,” he hissed out, his breath right behind you.

You felt it bubble up again. You let out another moan as you tilted your neck behind him, feeling it.

“Yes-yes Loki- Loki-please…please- I’m about to-to cum, please, let me-let me cum-” you pleaded. Your own folds inside shaking from the power.

“No…wait…”

He pulled out of you. You let out a small sigh. Your body shaking. Taking so much. Desperate for release.

“When you cum, I want to see it,” he breathed out.

He flipped you around and positioned you to wrap your legs around him. You embraced him. At once he entered again. Then thrust into you, slow at first.

“Eyes on me. No one else- watch me. I want you-want you to look me in the eye when you cum. So no man. No god- no one can give you this pleasure-”

He began to pound into you again on the table, you bounced Your breath was hitching in high gasps.

“Ah- oh- hmm-yes-yes there-oh gods-Loki-”

“Eyes on me, darling-look at me-”

His hands then wandered to your clit. So powerful and large, they began to strum it. You let out another moan.

“Look- at-me,” he commanded.

You were so hazed you forgot- his voice commanding-your had your eyes focused on him. His jaw tightened, fighting his own release too.

“Eyes. On. Me- who gives you pleasure?”

“You do!” you cried out.

“Say my name, darling-”

He fiddled with your clitoris faster, you fought it, it was finally going to break at this rate.

You let out a shout. It was building up in you. He pounded you into a fury. So many quick deep thrusts, the table going wild.

“Yes- say it darling- say it, I’m cumming- yes- cum with me- look at me- look at me- yes, I feel it- I’m going to-going to cum- I command you- say it- say my-say my name!!”

You let out a breathy cry of “Loki!” as it broke on you and you climaxed so hard his face and the room spun.

Panting, you held onto each other as he helped you down. He conjured you a glass of water to sip on.

“Are you ok?” he asked. “It was a lot.”

“It was perfect. Presents, a meal, and an orgasms- you’re spoiling me rotten already,” you teased.

He smiled and chuckled at the phrase. You both got in blankets snuggling before the fire.

So much time had passed it didn’t occur to you that your phone dinged with an alert. You picked it up. An hour ago, your sister and her husband sent a reply saying they were sorry since they fell asleep and now saw you and that you were welcome to see them. You let out a laugh.

“Would you like to, my dear?” he asked.

“Not in this…” you gestured to the babydoll. “But I do want to keep it…I have my favorite gift to enjoy tonight?”

“The ravishing little number you have on?” he asked.

“Oh no…it’s a handsome gift, tall, dark hair, blue eyes,” you giggled as you wrapped your arms around him.

“Merry Christmas, pet,” he whispered.

It was indeed.

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