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velvetvisionsaurora · 18 hours ago

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Pairing: Mafia Ateez OT8x Reader

Warnings: smut, fluff, angst, poly ateez, violence and weapons, mafia ateez, organized crime, parental death and grieving process, bullying, possessive and controlling behavior, suicidal thoughts

Summary: When Y/n Ricci is forced to marry Kim Hongjoong—leader of the notorious ATEEZ organization and one of eight men who cruelly abandoned her seven years ago—she finds herself trapped in their heavily guarded compound with the ghosts of her past. As she navigates the dangerous world of mafia politics and her own wounded heart, Y/n discovers that all eight powerful, irresistible men still harbor deep feelings for her, suggesting an unconventional solution to their shared dilemma. But before she can consider forgiving them, let alone loving them again, she must uncover the dark secret that tore them apart—a truth that could either heal their fractured bonds or destroy them all completely.

18+ only- No Minors

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Masterlist

Chapter 5: Target Practice and Proximity

Off limits. Like you're property. Like you're a possession to be controlled and monitored.

They hadn't just trapped you in this house, they'd cut you off from the outside world entirely. From your friends, your support system, your entire life beyond these walls.

The audacity. The absolute fucking audacity.

They want to play games with your life? They want to isolate you completely?

“KIM HONGJOONG!”

Your voice echoes through the house like a war cry as you storm toward the gym, bare feet slapping against marble with each furious step. The rage coursing through your veins has reached a boiling point that makes your earlier knife-throwing incident look like a mild disagreement.

You slam the glass door open with such force that spider web cracks spread across its surface, the sound of fracturing glass punctuating your entrance like an exclamation point. Seven heads turn toward you in various states of surprise and alarm.

"Well, good morning to you as well, my lovely fiancé," Hongjoong says with faux sincerity, not even pausing in his workout routine. Sweat glistens across his torso as he continues his reps, treating your explosive entrance like a minor inconvenience.

You respond to his saccharine greeting with a perfectly articulated middle finger.

"I'm off limits?" you spit, the words dripping with venom.

“Because you’re mine now.” Hongjoong doesn’t even look at you, his focus remaining on his weights as if you’re nothing more than background noise. “And what’s mine doesn’t associate with other men.”

“Yours?” You let out a harsh laugh that echoes off the gym walls. “I’m not your fucking property, Kim Hongjoong.”

He finally stops his workout, setting down the weights with deliberate care before turning to face you. There’s something predatory in his gaze as he steps closer, invading your personal space.

“Aren’t you?” he asks softly, his voice carrying a dangerous edge. “Your father signed the contract. Your name will be Kim in three months. That makes you mine in every way that matters.”

“A piece of paper doesn’t make me yours,” you spit back, refusing to back down even as he towers over you. “And neither does some archaic notion of ownership.”

His lips curve into that infuriating smirk. “We’ll see about that, little one.” The casual dismissal, the way he speaks about your future as if it's already set in stone, as if your opinion matters less than appearances, sends your anger to stratospheric levels.

"So I truly am a prisoner?" Your voice rises with each word. "So that means what—I won't be allowed to see any of my friends? Will I have to move so I won't be around any of the guys here?" The implications hit you, looking around. "Are you planning to isolate me from everyone I care about?"

Hongjoong stands to his full height, his expression infuriatingly calm. "Maybe so."

Your nostrils flare at his words, the casual cruelty of them stealing the breath from your lungs. The gym falls deadly silent except for the sound of your ragged breathing.

"Hongjoong, you know she has an attitude problem," Wooyoung stage-whispers from across the room, clearly trying to ease the tension with his trademark humor. "Why would you anger it?"

Your eyes slice toward him like laser beams, and Wooyoung suddenly becomes very interested in his water bottle, examining it as if it holds the secrets of the universe.

"Oh, would you look at that," he says dramatically, holding up the obviously full bottle. "Completely empty. I should really go refill this. The kitchen water is so much better than... here."

He takes a step toward the door, but your voice stops him cold.

"Don't you dare move, Jung Wooyoung."

Hongjoong sighs, finally seeming to realize that his dismissive attitude has pushed you past your breaking point. "You can't be seen with other men, or texting Chris Bang. It wouldn't make our marriage believable."

"What I do with my personal business is—" You stop mid-sentence, a horrifying realization dawning. Your eyes narrow as you look between all of them. "How did you know I was texting Chris?"

Hongjoong just stares at you, his expression giving away nothing. The silence stretches uncomfortably until Wooyoung starts fidgeting, looking increasingly nervous.

"Well, the water in the kitchen really is much better," he babbles, taking another step toward the exit. "Much more... hydrating. I should really—"

You move faster than anyone expects, grabbing him by the shirt collar and yanking him back. Your faces are inches apart as you look directly into his wide eyes.

"Are you running surveillance on my phone?" you ask, your voice deadly quiet.

Wooyoung swallows hard, his usual confidence evaporating under your intense stare. "Well... I mean... I'm personally not..."

The admission hits you like a physical blow. They've been watching you. Reading your private conversations. Monitoring your every interaction with the outside world. Yunho. You look at the resident hacker and tech nerd, who has the decency to look sheepish.

A growl of pure fury escapes your throat. "I would say I'm going to shoot Yunho, but we all know it was your leader's idea."

You release Wooyoung's collar with enough force to send him stumbling backward. Your gaze sweeps the room, taking in their various expressions—guilt, defiance, nervousness, and in San's case, what looks almost like admiration.

But it's Wooyoung's reaction that catches you off guard. Instead of looking ashamed or apologetic, he's staring at you with a dreamy expression, his eyes slightly glazed.

"God, you're so hot when you're angry," he breathes, apparently forgetting that he's supposed to be nervous. "Like, seriously. The way your eyes get all fierce and your voice gets that growly thing... it's doing things to me."

The entire gym falls silent. Even Hongjoong stops his posturing to stare at Wooyoung in disbelief.

"Did you just..." Yunho starts.

"He did," Yeosang confirms quietly.

"While she's threatening to shoot people," Jongho adds, sounding almost impressed.

San starts laughing—not his usual charming chuckle, but full-bodied laughter that echoes off the gym walls. "Only Wooyoung would get turned on by a death threat."

"It's not just the death threat," Wooyoung protests, his cheeks flushing but his eyes still fixed on you with unmistakable desire. "It's everything. The fire in her eyes, the way she's not backing down, how fierce she looks. She's magnificent."

Your anger falters for just a moment, derailed by the sheer absurdity of the situation. Here you are, discovering that they've been violating your privacy, threatening violence, and Wooyoung is having what appears to be a very public moment of arousal.

"Are you insane?" you ask, genuinely bewildered.

"Probably," he admits cheerfully. "But you're still gorgeous when you're ready to commit murder."

The comment draws a snort of unwilling amusement from Mingi, who's been silent throughout the entire confrontation. Even Seonghwa's lips twitch slightly, though he tries to maintain his diplomatic composure.

But your momentary confusion quickly gives way to renewed fury as you remember why you're here.

"Do not," you say, pointing a finger at Wooyoung, "think that your inappropriate attraction is going to distract me from the fact that you've all been spying on me."

"It's not spying," Hongjoong interjects, apparently deciding to rejoin the conversation. "It's security."

"Security?" You whirl on him. "Reading my private messages is security?"

"When those messages involve contact with potential threats, yes."

"Chris isn't a threat! He's my friend!"

"He's an unmarried male heir with his own agenda," Hongjoong counters. "And you're going to be my wife. That makes you off-limits to men like him."

The possessiveness in his tone, the casual way he claims ownership over your social life, sends you spiraling back into rage.

"I am not your property," you snarl. "I am not a possession to be controlled and monitored. I am a person with my own thoughts, feelings, and relationships."

"You're a Ricci who's about to become a Kim," he replies coldly. "Your relationships affect our family's reputation. Everything you do reflects on us now."

"Then maybe you should have thought of that before agreeing to this farce of a marriage," you snap back.

The words hang in the air like a challenge. Around the room, the other members watch the standoff with varying degrees of tension and fascination. This is clearly a battle of wills that's been building since your arrival, and now it's finally come to a head.

Hongjoong steps closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "This marriage is happening whether you like it or not. You can make it easy on yourself by accepting the rules, or you can make it difficult and face the consequences."

"Is that a threat?"

"It's a promise."

The words crackle between you like electricity. In this moment, with fury radiating from both of you, it's impossible to tell if you want to kill each other or...

"Oh my God," Wooyoung whispers reverently. "The sexual tension in here is incredible. You two are like fire and gasoline."

"Wooyoung," Seonghwa warns.

"What? I'm just saying what we're all thinking. Look at them—they're practically breathing fire at each other. It's the hottest thing I've ever seen."

Your face burns with a mixture of anger and something else you refuse to acknowledge. "You're all insane," you declare, backing toward the door. "Completely, utterly insane."

As you reach the cracked glass door, you turn back to face them one last time.

"And Hongjoong? The next time you want to know who I'm talking to, try asking instead of spying. You might be surprised by how cooperative I can be when treated like a human being instead of a prisoner."

With that, you storm out, leaving eight men in various states of arousal, amusement, and stunned silence.

Behind you, you hear Wooyoung's dreamy voice: "I think I'm in love."

"You've been in love with her for years," comes San's dry response.

"Yeah, but now I'm in love and turned on. It's a dangerous combination."

You slam the door to your room hard enough to rattle the windows, but even through your fury, you can't quite shake the image of Wooyoung's glazed expression or the way Hongjoong's eyes had darkened when you'd challenged him.

Dangerous indeed.

* * *

You storm back to your room, slamming the door with enough force to rattle the windows. The confrontation in the gym replays in your mind—Hongjoong's possessive declarations, the casual way he discussed monitoring your communications, the infuriating smirk when you'd challenged him.

Your phone lays on the floor where you'd dropped it after Chris's devastating revelation. With shaking fingers, you scroll through your contacts until you find Marco's number. He picks up on the second ring.

"Sorellina? You're calling early today. Everything alright?"

The concern in his voice nearly breaks your composure. Marco has always been your anchor, the one person in your family who sees you as more than just a political asset.

"No," you say, your voice cracking slightly. "Nothing is alright."

"What happened?"

You take a deep breath, trying to organize your thoughts. "Hongjoong declared me off limits to all unmarried men in the alliance. Chris can't even talk to me anymore. None of my male friends can."

Silence stretches across the line. When Marco finally speaks, his voice is carefully controlled. "Y/n..."

"They've been monitoring my phone, Marco. Reading my private messages. And now they've essentially announced to everyone that I'm property of the Kim family." The words tumble out in a rush, years of frustration and fresh rage mixing into a volatile combination.

"Shit," Marco mutters, and you can hear him moving around, probably pacing his office like he does when he's thinking. "When did this happen?"

"Yesterday, apparently. Chris just told me. He said word came down from the Kim family directly."

Another pause. "Y/n, I need you to listen to me, okay? And I need you to stay calm."

Something in his tone makes your stomach clench. "What do you mean, stay calm? They're treating me like a possession, Marco. Like I'm some medieval bride being traded between kingdoms."

"Because in our world, that's essentially what you are," he says gently. "Sorellina, this wasn't Hongjoong specifically. This is standard protocol for the Kim family—for most of our families, actually."

You sink onto the edge of your bed, feeling like the floor has shifted beneath your feet. "What?"

"It's like an engagement announcement, but more... comprehensive. When a family announces that their heir is marrying someone, especially someone from another powerful family, they declare that person off limits. It's about respect, territorial boundaries, preventing conflicts."

"But Chris said—"

"Chris is Bang family. They've been allies with the Kims for decades. Of course they'd receive the notification." Marco's voice is patient, explanatory, like he's teaching you something fundamental about your world that you should have already known. "Y/n, every family in the alliance probably received the same message within hours of your engagement being finalized."

The implications crash over you like a cold wave. This isn't Hongjoong being possessive or controlling—though he certainly is both of those things. This is protocol. Tradition. The way business is conducted in your world.

"I didn't know," you whisper.

"Why would you? Papa never explained these things to you because you were never supposed to be the one getting married. That was supposed to be my responsibility." There's a note of guilt in Marco's voice. "But with the Russo situation escalating and the need for immediate alliance..."

"He chose me instead," you finish hollowly.

"The Kim family specifically requested you, actually. Hongjoong's choice, from what I understand."

That stops you cold. "What?"

"Papa didn't tell you? The marriage proposal came from Hongjoong directly. He could have chosen any unmarried daughter from the allied families, but he asked for you specifically."

Your mind reels, trying to process this information. Hongjoong had asked for you. After seven years of silence, he'd specifically requested you as his bride.

"Why?" you ask, though you're not sure you want to know the answer.

"My guess? Papa has been thinking of marrying you to one of the mafia families for protection for a while now. Papa and Mr. Kim are close, so I assume Hongjoong got wind of it."

"Possessive," you say flatly.

"Protective," Marco corrects gently.

You snort. "If I have so many protectors, why am I always the one getting hurt?"

Marco is silent for a moment, and when he speaks again, his voice is softer. "Because none of us are very good at protecting against emotions, sorellina. Just against violence."

The truth of that statement sits heavily in your chest. Marco was eight years your senior, your father's son from his first marriage. Elena, your mother, hadn't been his biological mother, but he had loved her just the same—and he had been there for you when everyone else had disappeared.

After your mother died and the boys abandoned you, it was Marco who had picked up the pieces. Marco who had held you through nights of endless tears. Marco who had made sure you ate when food seemed pointless. Marco who had literally stood between you and the balcony railing one particularly dark night when living had seemed too painful to continue.

He was the reason you were still breathing. The reason you had found your strength again.

‘No, you're the only one who actually protects me,’ you think to yourself.

Marco chuckles, the sound warm and familiar. "At the end of the day, Y/n Ricci doesn’t need protecting. Still throwing knives at him?"

"Just the once. Though I'm considering making it a daily occurrence."

"My money's on you if it comes to actual violence," he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "But Y/n, try to understand—this off-limits declaration, it's not necessarily about controlling you. It's about protecting the alliance, preventing misunderstandings, making it clear that you're under Kim protection now."

"Protection," you repeat flatly. "It feels like imprisonment."

"In our world, they're often the same thing," Marco says quietly. "You know that."

You do know that. You've always known that. But somehow, experiencing it firsthand feels different than understanding it in theory.

"I hate this," you admit, the words barely audible.

"I know, sorellina. I know." Marco's voice is soft, sympathetic. "But you're a Ricci. We adapt, we survive, and we find ways to win even when the game is rigged against us."

"And if I can't adapt to this?"

"Then you'll do what you've always done—you'll burn everything down and rebuild it your way." There's pride in his voice now, the kind of fierce affection that's sustained you through the worst moments of your life. "The Kims think they're getting a compliant mafia princess. They have no idea what they've actually signed up for."

Despite everything, you find yourself smiling slightly. "You really think I can handle this?"

"Y/n, you've been preparing for this world your entire life, even if you didn't know it. You're sharper than most of the men in these families, you're ruthless when you need to be, and you have a moral compass that will keep you from becoming a monster." Marco pauses. "Plus, you're scary as hell when you're angry. That's going to serve you well."

"The scary part seems to be working," you admit, thinking of Wooyoung's reaction in the gym. "Though not in the way I expected."

Marco laughs. "What do you mean?"

You find yourself telling him about the confrontation, about Wooyoung's completely inappropriate response to your threats, about the way the others had reacted. By the time you finish, Marco is laughing so hard he can barely speak.

"Oh my God," he gasps. "Y/n, you have eight of the most dangerous men in the city wrapped around your finger and you don't even realize it."

"That's not—they hate me, Marco. They abandoned me seven years ago, remember?"

"Sorellina," Marco says, his voice turning serious again, "men don't monitor someone they hate. They don't specifically request someone they hate for marriage. And they definitely don't get turned on by death threats from someone they hate."

The words settle in your chest, creating an uncomfortable flutter that you don't want to examine too closely.

"Maybe," you say finally. "But that doesn't change what they did to me."

"No, it doesn't," Marco agrees. "And you have every right to make them pay for that. Just... try not to actually kill anyone. I don't want to have to explain to Papa why his daughter is wanted for murder."

"No promises," you say, but you're smiling now.

"Fair enough. Listen, Y/n, I have a meeting I can't postpone, but call me tonight, okay? And remember—you're not as powerless in this situation as you think you are."

After he hangs up, you sit in the quiet of your room, processing everything he's told you. The off-limits declaration wasn't personal—it was protocol. Hongjoong had specifically requested you as his bride. The Kim family, like most families in your world, operates by rules and traditions that value protection and territorial boundaries above individual freedom.

None of that makes you feel less trapped, but it does help you understand the game you're playing.

And if you're going to be stuck in this situation, you might as well learn to play it to win.

You look out the window at the oak tree, remembering Yeosang's words about Mingi and Wooyoung, remembering the careful way Hongjoong had watched you during your confrontation, the way Yunho's eyes had held desperate hope.

Maybe Marco is right. Maybe you have more power here than you realize.

The question is: what are you going to do with it?

* * *

The meeting room was thick with tension as all eight members of ATEEZ sat around the polished conference table. Hongjoong's jaw was still tight from the confrontation in the gym, while the others wore various expressions of concern, guilt, and in Wooyoung's case, lingering arousal.

"We need to discuss what just happened," Seonghwa began diplomatically, his fingers steepled as he surveyed the group.

"What's to discuss?" Hongjoong replied curtly. "She needs to understand her position."

"Her position?" Mingi's deep voice carried an edge of disapproval. "You mean as a prisoner?"

"As my future wife," Hongjoong corrected sharply.

"Same thing, apparently," San muttered, earning a glare from their leader.

Yunho shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "The phone monitoring... maybe we should have told her upfront."

"We went too far," Mingi said firmly, his usually gentle demeanor hardening. "Reading her private messages, isolating her from friends—we're treating her like the enemy instead of someone we're supposed to protect."

"Protect?" Jongho scoffed. "We're the ones she needs protection from at this point."

"She threw a knife at my head," Hongjoong reminded them.

"And you smirked about it," Yeosang observed quietly. "Almost like you enjoyed it."

"Because I did," Hongjoong admitted, running a hand through his hair. "Seeing that fire in her eyes, that defiance... it reminded me of why I—" He stopped himself abruptly.

"Why you fell in love with her in the first place?" Wooyoung finished with a dreamy sigh. "God, did you see her today? The way she grabbed my shirt, looked me right in the eye? I thought I was going to spontaneously combust."

"You have a problem," San told him flatly.

"The problem is that we're all still in love with her," Mingi said heavily. "And she hates us. We broke something precious seven years ago, and now we're making it worse."

"We didn't have a choice then," Seonghwa said, though his voice lacked conviction.

"And we do now?" Yunho asked. "Because we're still making choices that hurt her."

The room fell silent as the weight of their situation settled over them. They'd saved her life seven years ago by breaking her heart, and now they were slowly destroying what remained of her spirit.

"Maybe we should—" Hongjoong started.

*BANG!*

The sharp crack of gunfire cut through his words, sending all eight men to their feet in an instant. Training kicked in as they moved as one toward the sound, hands reaching for weapons

*BANG! BANG! BANG!*

The shots were coming from the garden, rapid and precise. They burst through the patio doors to find you standing in the far corner of the grounds, your mother's pearl-handled pistol extended in a perfect two-handed grip.

You were still in your outfit from the gym confrontation—the crisp white blouse now rolled up at the sleeves, your hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. But it was the deadly grace of your stance that made them all stop in their tracks.

*BANG!*

Another shot rang out, the bullet finding its mark in the center of an improvised target you'd set up against the garden wall—what looked like a photo taped to a piece of cardboard.

"Jesus Christ," San breathed.

You lowered the weapon, examining your handiwork with critical eyes before reloading with practiced efficiency. Only then did you notice your audience.

"Don't mind me," you called out with false sweetness. "Just working on my stress relief."

Wooyoung's face split into the widest grin any of them had seen from him since your return. "That was incredible! Did you see that grouping? She's a natural!"

"Her form is off," Mingi observed, his trained eye catching the slight imperfections in your stance.

You turned to face him, one eyebrow arched in challenge. "Your form is off," you replied with cutting sarcasm, though you made no move to correct your position.

Instead of being deterred by your attitude, Mingi stepped forward with characteristic determination. "May I?"

Something flickered in your eyes—surprise, perhaps, at his calm persistence. After a moment, you gave a short nod.

He approached slowly, respectfully, until he was standing just behind you. "Your stance is good, but your grip could be tighter," he said softly, his deep voice rumbling near your ear. "And you're tensing your shoulders."

His large hands came up to hover near yours, not quite touching but close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his skin. "May I adjust your grip?"

The question was asked with such gentle formality that you found yourself nodding again, though your breath caught as his fingers finally made contact with yours.

Mingi's touch was surprisingly gentle for such large hands, his fingers carefully repositioning yours on the weapon's grip. "Like this," he murmured, his chest nearly brushing your back as he leaned in to check the sight line. "Feel the difference?"

You did feel a difference, though it had less to do with the gun and more to do with the way his proximity was affecting your ability to breathe properly. He smelled like sandalwood and something uniquely him, warm and comforting in a way that made your treacherous heart skip.

"Now, relax your shoulders," he continued, his hands ghosting over your shoulder blades without quite touching. "The tension travels down your arms and affects your accuracy."

Despite yourself, you found your body responding to his calm instruction, muscles you hadn't realized were tight beginning to loosen.

"Better," he said, satisfaction evident in his voice. "Now try."

You raised the weapon again, hyperaware of his presence behind you, the way he seemed to radiate calm strength. The shot that followed was noticeably more precise than your previous attempts.

"Perfect," Mingi said, and the pride in his voice sent an unwelcome warmth through your chest.

From their position by the patio, the other seven watched this interaction with varying degrees of fascination and envy. Wooyoung looked like he might vibrate out of his skin with excitement, while Hongjoong's expression had darkened considerably.

"Should we interrupt?" Yunho whispered.

"Absolutely not," Yeosang replied quietly. "This is the first time she's let any of us close since she arrived."

"Look at her," San murmured, noting the way your rigid posture had softened under Mingi's gentle guidance. "She's actually relaxed."

"Mingi always was good with her," Seonghwa observed. "Even as children, he could calm her down when the rest of us couldn't."

In the garden, you lowered the weapon again, turning slightly to look at Mingi. He was still standing close—closer than you'd allowed anyone since arriving—and for a moment, something passed between you that had nothing to do with firearms training.

You glanced at Yeosang who gave you a nod. You remember your conversation. "Mingi and Wooyoung—they don't show it the way the others do, but they were affected the worst by leaving you."

"Thank you," you said quietly, the words carrying more weight than a simple acknowledgment of instruction.

"Anytime," he replied, his eyes holding yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

The moment stretched between you, fragile and tentative, until Wooyoung's excited voice shattered it.

"Can I try next? Please? I promise I'll be good!"

You stepped away from Mingi abruptly, the spell broken, your defenses slamming back into place. "I think that's enough for today," you said curtly, engaging the safety and tucking the pistol into your waistband.

As you walked past them toward the house, you paused beside Wooyoung. “Maybe next time.”

With that, you disappeared into the house, leaving eight men standing in the garden, each lost in their own thoughts about the woman who continued to surprise them at every turn.

"Did anyone else notice," Wooyoung said dreamily, "that she said 'next time'?"

"I noticed," Mingi said quietly, his eyes still fixed on the door where you'd disappeared. "I also noticed she didn't flinch when I touched her."

"Progress," Yeosang murmured.

"Dangerous progress," Hongjoong added, though his tone held more thoughtfulness than anger.

In the distance, they could hear a door slam—your door, most likely—but for the first time since your arrival, it didn't sound quite so final.

Maybe, just maybe, there was hope after all.

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count-on-mi · 16 hours ago

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Daddy's Forbidden Affairs Part 2 (Momo)

Momo had always maintained a relationship with her father. However, due to the pandemic, she hadn’t returned to her hometown for nearly two years. Finally, after completing her schedule in Japan, Momo returned home, and the pent-up desire between her and her father could no longer be contained. They planned to indulge in their forbidden passion during the short holiday.

"It's been so long, Momo-chan~" As soon as Momo opened the door, her father enveloped her in a tight embrace. Momo let out a soft moan and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. "Mmm... Daddy... I missed you so much..." Momo tilted her head up, her pink lips brushing against her father’s chin, her slender fingers slipping into his pajama pants to gently grasp his already eager erection. "I missed you too, Momo-chan..." Momo’s father sucked on her flushed lips, his large hands kneading her soft breasts through her uniform. "Two years apart, and my precious daughter has grown even more... These breasts are so soft..." "Hmph... Stop teasing..." Momo giggled coyly, dodging her father’s hungry kisses, though her hands worked even harder, stroking his shaft. "Daddy... I want it... Let’s go to the bedroom... I can’t wait to devour your big cock..." Momo’s father let out a hoarse chuckle, one hand lifting Momo by her buttocks to carry her, the other pulling open the bedroom door.

The room was already prepared with a mattress, ready for the father and daughter to fully indulge in their long-delayed forbidden pleasure.

Once inside, Momo’s father eagerly tossed her onto the bed, leaning down to fiercely claim her lips. Momo responded passionately, her sweet tongue darting out to tease his mouth while her hands hurriedly unfastened his belt, pulling out his thick, throbbing cock. "Mmm... Daddy..." Momo moaned, her hands rapidly stroking the rigid shaft. "It’s so big... I want to taste it..." Momo’s father growled, tearing open Momo’s blouse and bra, lowering his head to suck hard on one swollen, sensitive nipple. "Ah... Daddy... It feels so good..." Momo gasped repeatedly, her hands pressing his head against her chest. "Harder... Mmm... Daddy, bite me... I want you to devour me..." "Momo... My baby..." Momo’s father released her nipple, kissing down her collarbone to her abdomen, his large hands kneading her full, soft breasts, thumbs teasing her erect nipples. "You little slut... You’re getting naughtier..." he said, before taking her other nipple into his mouth, sucking vigorously, his tongue skillfully flicking the sensitive bud.

Momo’s hands tangled in her father’s dark hair, her head thrown back as she cried out wantonly, her body writhing involuntarily, her breasts morphing into various shapes under her father’s ministrations. "Ahh... I can’t take it... It’s too intense..." Momo’s body trembled uncontrollably, her pussy already soaking wet. "Daddy... Don’t just focus on me... Take care of my pussy too..." "Alright... Whatever my baby daughter wants, Daddy will give you..." Momo’s father released her, kissing down to the inside of her thighs, then slipping a finger into her drenched entrance. "Oh... Ah..." Momo arched her body, her tight, wet pussy sucking his finger with wet sounds. "Daddy... You’re so good at this..." Momo’s father added another finger, thrusting into her tight hole, while his other hand climbed to her erect breasts, kneading them roughly. "Ahh... I’m going to break... It’s too good..." Momo cried out pitifully, her core gushing with hot liquid. "Daddy... Deeper... Fuck me with your big cock..." "Momo... You little whore... Daddy’s going to satisfy you..."

Momo’s father withdrew his fingers, climbing over her and pressing his thick cock against her chest. "Good girl... Service Daddy..." he commanded, guiding his cock to her red lips. Momo gave him a seductive glance before lowering her head, taking the massive head into her mouth. "Mmm... So big..." Momo hummed contentedly, her lips and tongue working together to suck and lick, her tongue teasing the sensitive tip and ridge. "Daddy’s cock is still so delicious..." Momo’s father hissed in pleasure, grabbing her breasts and pulling his cock from her mouth to slide it between her pale, soft mounds. "Baby... Let Daddy enjoy your big tits..." he murmured, squeezing her breasts and thrusting his cock between them. "Ah... Daddy... So intense..." Momo tilted her head back, tears forming at the corners of her eyes, but her moans grew louder. "My tits... Daddy’s going to break them..." "Baby... Your tits were made for Daddy to fuck..." Momo’s father panted, speeding up, his cock sliding smoothly between her slick breasts. "Come on... Shoot all over me, Daddy..."

With one final thrust, Momo’s father buried his cock deep in her cleavage, the tip brushing her chin, and erupted, spraying thick, white cum across her. "Ahh..." Momo’s eyes widened in a daze, her breasts drenched in her father’s cum, the white liquid trickling down her neck and pooling in her collarbone. Momo’s father pulled out, admiring her soaked breasts with satisfaction. "Baby... Look how depraved you are..." he said with a grin, stroking her cum-covered chest. "You just got home, and you’ve already made Daddy cum on you..." "Hmph... It’s all your fault, Daddy..." Momo pouted playfully, punching him lightly, then lifted her breasts, licking their mixed fluids with lewd sounds. "Daddy’s taste is still so good..." Seeing this lascivious display, Momo’s father’s recently sated desire stirred again. He pulled her close, positioning her to straddle him, his cock aligned with her dripping pussy. "Come on, baby daughter... Let Daddy claim you again..." he said hoarsely, gripping her round hips and thrusting upward.

"Ahh... Daddy..." Momo threw her head back, her body trembling violently as another wave of pleasure surged from her core. Momo’s father began moving, his cock plunging in and out of her tight pussy, each thrust burying him fully before pulling out, leaving just the tip at her entrance. "Ahh... Too fast..." Momo clutched his shoulders, her body swaying with his rhythm. "Slow down... Ah... I’m going to cum again..." Momo’s father ignored her, intensifying his pace, each thrust slamming into her most sensitive spot. "Baby... If you can hold back, I’ll slow down..." he teased wickedly, his hands kneading her snowy breasts, thumbs pressing her sensitive nipples in sync with his thrusts. "Mmm... Daddy... I can’t..." Momo collapsed into his arms, her body shuddering, waves of pleasure overwhelming her. "Then you’re done for..." Momo’s father smirked, pulling out completely before slamming back in with force. "Ah—!" Momo screamed, her senses shattered by the deep thrust, a flood of liquid gushing from her core as she climaxed. "Baby... You’re so lewd..." Momo’s father slowed his movements, his cock still sliding in her hypersensitive post-orgasm pussy. "Cumming so fast from Daddy’s cock..."

Momo slumped against his shoulder, sobbing softly. "Daddy... I can’t... You’re too strong..." she said brokenly, her body still trembling from the lingering pleasure. "I’m going to die from your fucking..." Momo’s father kissed the tears from her eyes, his hips still moving, driving his thick cock deep into her core. "Baby... Don’t worry... Daddy will take care of you..." he soothed, speeding up again, each thrust scraping her most sensitive spot. "Tell Daddy... Compared to your boyfriend, who’s better?" "Daddy... You’re so mean..." Momo blushed but admitted, "You’re so much better... His cock isn’t even half as big as yours..." "And... I’ve already drained him... He can’t satisfy me anymore..." she panted, her body swaying uncontrollably. "I only want Daddy to fuck me... To show him who makes me happier..." "Baby... So honest..." Momo’s father grinned, thrusting hard, piercing her deepest spot. "Then let Daddy conquer you completely... So you’ll never forget my cock..." "Ah..." Momo threw her head back, a high-pitched moan escaping as another gush of liquid poured from her core.

Momo’s father seized the moment, gripping her waist and pounding into her sensitive post-orgasm state. "Baby... Daddy’s going to fuck you to death..." he growled, his cock ravaging her wet pussy, hitting bottom with every thrust. "You’re mine... Only mine..." "Daddy... I want you too..." Momo clung to his neck, her breasts bouncing wildly. "I only want you to fuck me... I don’t care about anyone else..." Momo’s father, driven mad by her words, fucked her with near-brutal force, each thrust crushing her sensitive spot, eliciting more wet sounds. "Baby... You’re Daddy’s angel..." he murmured, pulling out completely before slamming back in, piercing her deepest, most vulnerable spot. "Ah—!" Momo screamed, biting his shoulder as her G-spot took the fatal hit, an unprecedented wave of pleasure overwhelming her, causing her to squirt uncontrollably. "Baby... You did it..." Momo’s father roared with delight, erupting inside her, flooding her womb with his cum.

They collapsed together, their ragged breathing slowly calming. "Baby... I can never get enough of you..." Momo’s father rasped, his hand stroking her bare back, lingering on her round ass. "Daddy... I want you too... I want to keep doing this with you..." Momo hugged his neck, her lips brushing his jaw, still insatiable. "Then let’s go, my little vixen..." Momo’s father flipped her over, pinning her beneath him, his cock hardening again and pressing against her freshly fucked pussy. "Daddy’s going to fuck you until you beg for mercy..." Momo spread her legs, wrapping them around his waist, urging, "Daddy... Hurry..." Momo’s father grinned and thrust in hard, sparking another round of intense sex...

Time flew by, and half the short holiday passed quickly. In every spare moment, Momo and her father indulged in passionate sex in every corner of the house, as if trying to merge their bodies. The dining room, living room, kitchen, bedroom, bathroom—every place bore the marks of their debauchery. Momo’s pussy and ass were thoroughly fucked by her father, gushing at the slightest touch; his stamina and endurance reached astonishing levels, fucking her to delirium nearly every night. Addicted, they couldn’t stop, clinging to each other whenever her mother was away, trying every position in countless rounds of relentless thrusting until they were utterly spent.

Though utterly depraved, this seemed the perfect way for the long-separated father and daughter to reconnect—in the throes of sex, time seemed to stop, their souls perfectly aligned, with no barriers between them. They devoured each other as if making up for two years apart, sometimes pushing each other to the limit just to chase that mind-shattering ecstasy.

But such a life was fleeting, and as the holiday’s end loomed, they faced the reality of parting...

The air grew heavy with impending separation, and Momo’s emotions became complex. She was eager to return to Korea and shine on stage, but she couldn’t bear leaving her father. These days had deepened her attachment to him. As she wrestled with her feelings, her father knocked on her door.

"Baby... Are you asleep?"

Momo’s heart raced as she leapt out of bed to open the door. Her father immediately pulled her into his arms, kissing her deeply. "Daddy... We have to part again..." Momo said sadly, clinging to his neck, her lips brushing his jaw with soft kisses. "Baby... I know... But I couldn’t hold back..." Momo’s father said with a wry smile, his hands roaming her body, kneading her full breasts through her clothes. "Let’s make the most of tonight... I won’t wake you in the morning..." Momo understood—he wanted to fuck her senseless one last time to make up for their upcoming separation. She nodded, letting him push her onto the bed, stripping her clothes off to reveal her tender, alluring body.

His heated gaze raked over her naked form before he leaned down to kiss her breasts, his tongue flicking between her sensitive nipples. "Ah... Daddy..." Momo moaned, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, pressing his head toward her more private areas. He obliged, burying his face between her thighs, his skilled tongue teasing her clit and dipping into her wet hole. "Oh...! Daddy... Stop...!" Momo’s moans grew louder, her pussy flooding under his expert touch, lost in the madness of their passion.

Feeling her gushing arousal, he knew she was ready. He knelt between her legs, gripping his ready cock and rubbing it against her slick entrance before thrusting in hard, hitting her deepest spot. "Ah—!" Momo screamed, his massive cock filling her completely, striking her G-spot and sending waves of pleasure crashing through her. He grabbed her waist and pounded relentlessly, each thrust crushing her sensitive spot, drawing more sweet sounds. "Baby... You’re so good... So tight..." he panted, his cock ravaging her pussy. "You’re Daddy’s... Forever..." Momo’s tear-filled eyes held a dazed, enraptured look as she hugged his neck, thrusting her hips to meet his, her pussy clenching around him. "Daddy... I want you... Give it to me..." she begged, lost to reason, wanting only to be filled by him...

"As you wish... My baby..." He roared, speeding up, his final deep thrust flooding her womb with his cum. Momo cried out, her body convulsing with another climax, her nails digging into his back...

A car horn sounded outside—dawn was approaching. Momo’s father gently wiped her body clean with a towel. "Daddy... I’m really leaving tomorrow..." Momo lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, still lost in the afterglow, reluctant to return to reality. He kissed her forehead softly. "Silly girl, we’ll have another holiday, won’t we?" Momo turned to him. "Will there really be a next time?" He smirked. "Of course, and I’m already thinking about how to fuck you next time." He paused, his eyes lingering on her breasts. "Like... bringing Sana and Jihyo along for a foursome..." "Ah—! Daddy, how could you...!" Momo gasped, imagining the scandalous scene if she brought her bandmates to meet her father.

Her heart raced despite her embarrassment... She was shy but couldn’t help fantasizing. Sana was one thing, but Jihyo, the dependable leader she barely knew in this context... "Damn it... Daddy, how could you say that..." She flushed, trying to get off the bed. He pulled her back, chuckling. "Don’t be shy... I’m just planning ahead... Trust me, Sana and Jihyo have already been in my bed..." Momo froze, staring at her grinning father in disbelief. She knew Sana was also her father’s lover, but... Jihyo? Jihyo, the reliable, professional leader—how could she...? "You... How do you know..." Momo stammered, a mix of disbelief and jealousy in her tone. "Jihyo never told me..." "Heh..." Momo’s father smirked, kneading her ass. "You think Jihyo could escape me? She’s better at hiding it than I am..."

Momo’s heart sank—he’d even taken Jihyo... That was too much! "Daddy... How could you... Jihyo’s my respected leader..." she protested, tears in her eyes. "What else are you hiding from me..." He shook his head, sighing. "Baby... You know our relationship is taboo... I’ve been careful to keep it secret. I didn’t expect Jihyo to have her own designs on me... She raped me when I wasn’t paying attention, then kept seducing me. I couldn’t resist..." "What?!" Momo’s eyes widened, staring at the man lying so convincingly. "Daddy, you’re making that up! You must’ve started it!" He laughed, denying it. "You trust Jihyo over me?" He kissed her lightly. "Don’t worry... I’ll fuck Sana and Jihyo just as good as I fuck you..." Momo pouted, indignant. "I don’t care... Daddy’s mine alone... You can’t touch other girls..." "Alright... I promise I won’t, as long as you bring them to me to fuck," he said, rubbing her lip with his thumb, his tone wicked.

Momo bit her lip, unsure how to respond. She was jealous of Jihyo and others but also craved watching her father dominate other women... This conflict tormented her, trapping her in a deep struggle... Finally, she made up her mind. "Fine... I agree... But Daddy has to promise not to neglect me when you’re fucking other girls..." She met his gaze defiantly. "You can fuck anyone, but you have to save the most love for me..." He laughed heartily, pinning her down. "Greedy girl... But I like it." He sealed her lips with his, his fingers slipping back into her wet pussy. "Mmm... Daddy... No..." Momo protested weakly, unable to resist his powerful body as he had his way with her... "Don’t worry... I’ll satisfy you, my baby..." he murmured, his fingers thrusting rapidly, bringing wave after wave of pleasure...

#minasaiyatis #twice smut #girl group smut #kpop smut #female idol smut #m reader #twice imagines #momo smut #twice momo

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svnscape · 2 days ago

Text

epilogue: i hate u i love u

the whole house was quiet. jaemin’s snores were abnormally loud and even louder during summertime, even with the air-conditioning on, which meant haechan’s hopes of sleeping tonight were completely ruined.

summer vacation, before a whole new beginning for everyone, had just kickstarted but haechan couldn’t find the tiniest bit of joy to fully immerse himself into it, even if he was currently sleeping in a multimillionaire’s house, on a beyond comfortable mattress with the air conditioning on full blast.

he just couldn’t.

plus the fact that it was impossible for him to sleep off his thoughts, as jaemin’s snores grew even louder, made haechan groan and jump off the bed to head to another room.

chenle had given him full access to a ginormous room where haechan conveniently put all of his stuff in, in case he couldn’t sleep or wanted more peace.

even if he doesn’t act like it, chenle was very observant and caring towards all of his friends and recently, especially to haechan as he noticed the shifts in his behavior ever since all of them graduated.

he knew he was going through it, immensely, and the only way he could cheer him up was by shutting up and giving him the peace and quiet he needed sometimes.

so that is where haechan heads off to, his footsteps barely audible on this very shiny floor, as he made his way towards the end of the hall.

it was very quiet and smelled like expensive lavender, if that was even a thing.

he genuinely loved this room and its huge and bouncy duvet, as haechan spent most of his time here, listening to music and looking at your instagram account.

yes he was very much stalking you and he would rather die than have his friends find out about this new hyperfixation.

but tonight he had different plans as he finally eyes that small black and very worn out object sitting on top of his laptop.

mark’s usb.

i mean it was about time he finds out what’s in it and get it over with and he was obviously not enjoying this vacation, so whatever that usb holds, it had no hopes of ruining his already very monotonous and rotting summer.

so he sits down on the desk and plugs that usb in, without a second thought.

he just wanted it to be over.

but that usb had other plans as it took forever to load its files onto haechan’s computer, making him close his eyes and sigh in despair.

nothing about mark came on easy and it was genuinely making him loose his mind.

but then finally, the 3 files had loaded and haechan’s heartbeat spiked.

why the hell was he nervous?

he eyes them for a good ten minutes before he finally decided to open the first one, on the left of the screen, that was named “read first”

he clicks on it to find a small and simple untitled word file.

so he clicks again.

hey! it’s your markie. sorry you already know that. i’m nervous typing this out when you’re literally a hallway away from me. it’s 4am and you looked exhausted today so i’m guessing you’re sound asleep. i can’t sleep though.

anyways i’m sorry if this was corny or uncomfortable. i’m sure you’re wondering why the hell did i leave you a usb hahah. you probably called me old too, i know you very well hae.

but yeah, other than this file you’ll find two other ones, one named haechan and the other named tunes. open them both.

the haechan file has all the demos we recorded almost three years ago. yeah i kept them and i listened to them almost everyday. it also has demos i recorded later on and thought they’d only sound good with your voice in them. i don’t know if you’ll like them or even listen to them but please consider them as an apology. i would love for you to grace them with your voice haechan.

the tunes file has all of my unreleased songs. i’m still waiting for the approval of my label but there’s one song i’ve been waiting to release — i hate u i love u. i don’t care if my label says yes or no but i need your approval first. i’m sorry but it’s a song about you and it’ll mean the whole universe to me if you’d listen to it and tell me if i can release it, i won’t do it without your approval.

please let me know, please.

before you close this file, please let me say;

hae… i’m sorry for everything. i was scared because i felt myself feel too deeply about you and i had to choose between you, my career and another person who i’ve come to realize that i just ruined their time and made them believe in something that was never meant to go further. for some reason, i always loose my words when it comes to you but i think my song will explain it all: so again, please listen to it. i won’t release it unless you allow me to.

bye.

- mark minhyung lee

click here to listen to mark lee’s latest single — lyrics down below

Feeling used, but I'm still missing you

And I can't see the end of this

Just wanna feel your kiss

Against my lips

And now all this time

Is passing by

But I still can't seem to tell you why

It hurts me every time I see you

Realize how much I need you

I hate you I love you

I hate that I love you

Don't want to, but I can't put

Nobody else above you

I hate you I love you

I hate that I want you

You want her, you need her

And I'll never be her

I miss you when I can't sleep

Or right after coffee

Or right when I can't eat

I miss you in my front seat

Still got sand in my sweaters

From nights we don't remember

Do you miss me like I miss you?

Fucked around and got attached to you

Friends can break your heart too, and

I'm always tired but never of you

If I pulled a you on you, you wouldn't like that shit

I put this reel out, but you wouldn't bite that shit

I type a text but then I nevermind that shit

I got these feelings but you never mind that shit

Oh oh, keep it on the low

You're still in love with me but your friends don't know

If u wanted me you would just say so

And if I were you, I would never let me go

I don't mean no harm

I just miss you on my arm

Wedding bells were just alarms

Caution tape around my heart

You ever wonder what we could have been?

You said you wouldn't and you fucking did

Lie to me, lie with me, get your fucking fix

Now all my drinks and all my feelings are all fucking mixed

Always missing people that I shouldn't be missing

Sometimes you gotta burn some bridges just to create some distance

I know that I control my thoughts and I should stop reminiscing

But I learned from my dad that it's good to have feelings

When love and trust are gone

I guess this is moving on

Everyone I do right does me wrong

So every lonely night, I sing this song

I hate you I love you

I hate that I love you

Don't want to, but I can't put

Nobody else above you

I hate you I love you

I hate that I want you

You want her, you need her

And I'll never be her

All alone I watch you watch her

Like she's the only girl you've ever seen

You don't care you never did

You don't give a damn about me

Yeah all alone I watch you watch her

She's the only thing you've ever seen

How is it you never notice

That you are slowly killing me

I hate you I love you

I hate that I love you

Don't want to, but I can't put

Nobody else above you

I hate you I love you

I hate that I want you

You want her, you need her

And I'll never be her

coming soon, in september: i hate u? i love u? season two — don’t

new scene, new people and old appearances. will your relationship with haechan hold strong or will you both go back to old habits? don’t get tempted.

prev — m.list

taglist: @bbykaixx @alwayswonbinning @weepingsweep @dudekiss3r @kukkurookkoo @hoeingthefuckup @gomdoleemyson @haeclips @luvvhaechan @hsified @heegyuwrld @lubunnii @firydst @daengiez @nahyuckers @httpsxnox @n0hyuck @hi00000234567 @scoobysnackszoo @minkyuncutie @yuthabitz @haechology @neogotmysam @sanniekook @kisseokiss @nqyzhuo @kooookie @lovenha7 @andassortedkpop @jising-jisang-jisung @markleesleftpinky @ourbeautifulaffair @dilflover44 @nctdreamchaser @leehaechie @nosungluv

a/n: and it’s overrrr

yes this smau was inspired by the song — i hate u, i love u

i was obsessed with this song when i was younger lmao.

anyways. thank you so much guys! seriously!!! you’ve made my experience of posting my first smau on tumblr so good and fun i will never thank you enough.

i’m still gonna spend more time focusing on this story and universe so please interact and come to my asks with anything you’d like to say. i’d be beyond happy answering you.

also it’ll make me very happy if you guys would tune in for my next series which i’ve already spoiled the title of (reflections). more infos about it will be posted soon hehehe.

again, thank you and i love you all!!!

see you soon for the second season.

mwah!!!!

— ruby.

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lostintransist · 15 hours ago

Text

Hell's Spawn | Shave and a Haircut

Part 1 | AO3 | 18+ MNDI

CW: Mentions of a knife kink

June 30th saw you up at midnight vomiting your nerves into the toilet. The stark experience of being alone, not even photos of the happy times dotting your walls, is what followed you to the ED for your first day. It stuck. Almost seemed as if the universe had inked its empty pain into you. It made everything worse at work: learning to navigate your attending, figuring out which nurses would teach you what they did or would be willing to answer questions, tracking down the cleaning staff to understand how they cleaned the room after a bedbug case. Okay, that one was purely to keep you from burning your clothes and walking the short distance home naked.

The little time you got to spend in your studio apartment was plagued with chaos. Either you needed a psych consult for yourself or you had visitors.

Your spices were constantly being updated, your underwear going missing, your dresser top getting completely flipped. When you say flipped, everything had been rotated 180°, from the shape your discarded bra made as it draped over the edge to the pen you had tossed there three days ago. Someone had started spritzing cologne on your pillow. It was almost as if without a normal way to greet you and beg for attention they reverted to something ‘safer’. It wasn’t. They had turned into feral cats desperate to understand love.

Horangi Kim got a simple text from you.

>Are they in Reno?

How did he reply to your question? Thumbs up. Fucker knew what they were up to.

>Tell them my schedule changed and I’m at the hospital tonight.

The fact he took the time to shift through the emoji reactions to find the saluting yellow face just served to piss you off. It added to the plans you crafted for each man who might arrive.

Your studio apartment opened directly to a view of your bed. You had a small patio table set on a round rug to break up the little space you had. To the left of the front door was a small coat closet and a boxy kitchen that had a pass-through over the counter. At least whoever designed it let the counter overhang for seating. Past the kitchen was the bathroom, not even big enough to have a tub. You could cross the room in six steps, three if you moved like you did for a code call. Whoever designed the building set all the plumbing on the same wall. The neighbor to your left had their kitchen abutting yours. And to the right? Well, their bed had to be on the same wall that yours was. Here’s hoping they were quiet when they had people over for nighttime activities.

Setting a spare pillow on the floor next to the bed, you settle in to wait. Sitting in the dark, except for your silly little dripping faucet night light in the kitchen, it doesn’t take long for the deadbolt to click open and the door to open to a shadow.

Once he stepped through and locked the door behind him, you stand.

The plastic curtains shift and sway as you stand. Krueger, Sebastian, shifted his stance as he leveled a gun on you.

“Put that away,” you snap at him. “And while you’re at it turn on some lights.”

He does as commanded. Much as they refuse to admit it, men who take orders for a living will often do as they are told. Tone is key.

The light clicking on has you squinting past the bright pain. And there he is. Krueger haunted your rare dreams that were not about work with his warm hands and his attitude. An attitude that had you wanting to bite into his neck and shake like a cat until it broke. He wore a pair of dark glasses, a cap, and a black medical mask. A long-sleeved shirt, the same color as the mask, hugs his muscles is tucked into his green cargo pants, which are tucked into his boots. God, you want to make him come undone. To send him out the door without looking flustered and startled.

Circling the bed, you snag the straight razor kit from the edge.

“Sit.” You point with a chin to the chair pulled away from the table at an angle.

He stares as you walk toward the kitchen, but does as you’ve commanded.

“I missed yo—”

Stopping, staring up into his hidden face, you reply.

“Sebastian?”

“Yes, how may I dazzle you today?” He smirks down at you.

“Shut the fuck up,” stepping past him, the kitchen welcomes you. Tipping the water to hot you let it run. Soaking a hand towel, you fill up a small tea cup and turn off the water. Before anything else, you set the brush in the hot water. Wringing it out as best as you can you head for Sebastian who watches you, eyes predatory.

No words are shared. Stepping between his feet, spread wide as if to assert dominance, you remove his cap, sunglasses, and mask resting them all on the table next to the arm he draped there. Wrapping his face starts with his ink-dark eyes. They stared at you as if you shifted too close you would be pulled into their depths, a singularity trapped in an iris.

He soaks while you prep the rest of the steps. Your grandfather had taught you how to use a straight razor. You had been thirteen and stuck at his house for the summer after ‘mouthing off’. Pointing out the inequity of ever-changing rules your mother laid down like laws, had resulted in being sent away. The exile to the middle of nowhere seemed like a bit of an overreaction. Pop-Pop’s words smoothed over your soul now, guiding your hands.

Dumping the water from the teacup, you prep the soap. Once a solid lather clings to the bristles you move the rest of the supplies to the table. Sebastian’s head shifts minutely, tracking your movements. Settling between his spread thighs you brush his shoulder first. Best to let him know you were near than scare him and chance him getting jumpy.

You settle a dry towel around his neck before lifting away the wet one from his face. His beard is speckled with red, a contrast to the blond of his head hair. Not what you expected. It is sparse, disappearing completely near a stripe on his chin, and gets patchy near his sideburns.

Smart man that he is, though entirely too cocksure and rude, he remains silent.

Once all your tools are arranged to your liking, you begin; pre-shave oil drips into your palms, warming under the heat of your hands. Taking your time you spread the oil from your skin to his. Dark eyes never leave you. Sebastian shifts under your touch, letting your directions guide his head as you now add the lathered soap. He shivered when the straight razor first brushed his face.

Your eyes flicked to his. Now? Now he wouldn’t look at you, avoided your eyes like a maiden caught sight ogling the strong men as they worked.

“Interesting.”

The murmured word settled between you as you pulled his cheek taut again. An easy glide of the blade you kept sharp took off the bulk of the hair as it passed. Wiping it against the towel around his neck Sebastian sucked in the tiniest breath when the back of the razor touched his neck.

This time you kept your eyes on your task. It continued like that, you touching him with purpose but not to relieve the pressure you could see growing in the stretch of the seat of his pants. You aren’t surprised that the man had a knife kink. He would be surprised when you sent him out the door with a clean face and a smack to the ass though.

Wiping the leftover soap from his face, you lather him up again. The second pass goes against the grain. Sebastian starts to breathe harder. There is less barrier between the blade and his skin now. You clean both cheeks and then his chin, before shifting to his neck. It is there that you pause.

Razor notched beneath his Adam’s apple you press slightly harder than needed, and wait. It takes him five seconds to focus his eyes on your face. His pupils have blown wide.

“If you, or the others, continue to fuck with my shit when you visit I will ask Horangi to tie you down as a castrate each of you.” The low menace in your tone, combined with the blade atoms from making him bleed, rips a groan from his throat. “I am busy and do not have time for games. Be helpful, or be gone.”

Three passes more and his shave is complete.

Sebastian is panting. His eyes track you now, boring into your face as you neatly avoid falling into his gaze. Your panties are soaked and your nipples are hard, begging for attention inside your bra. As much as you wanted to get railed into the mattress, until the bed frame gave way, if you let him touch you now he wouldn’t have learned his lesson.

Wiping his face clean of soap, you step back.

Dragging your eyes from his face to his boots and back you let yourself fall into his tree-dark eyes now.

“That’s all. Now, get out.”

“What?” The single word from the man who at times could not shut the fuck up to save his life gave you a savage level of joy.

Lifting your brows you let the vicious grin out.

“I didn’t stutter. That’s it. You will get no more from me tonight.”

“Your body begs to be touched,” Sebastian leaned forward, reaching for you even as you stepped beyond his grasp. “I can please you until you can’t walk.”

“My body always begs for touch—the needy bitch that I am would drain you dry. Too bad for you, men that steal my panties don’t get to see them on me.” That smile that would scare lesser men grew on your cheeks. “Now get out of my house, Sebastian.”

Sebastian Krueger was not a man that had been bested often. And never before had he been bested with no recourse. He stood, body flinching from the pinch of his pants against his erection.

Your mad grinning, wild in the way that crooned men to their deaths from the bow of the ship, spun a web around him. That web directed him out the door, the touch of your fingerprints and your blade still singing in his skin. The door clicking shut, and the deadbolt slamming home, did nothing to stop the sounds of your breathy moans seeping from beyond his reach. You had been affected too.

Forehead pressed to the peephole, Sebastian came without a touch at hearing your cries of seeing stars. He would destroy anything, anyone, for the chance to touch you like his still-hard body ached for. Help is want you wanted? Help he could provide. Hell, not even just him. Much as he hated the idea of König or Nikto touching you the way he yearned to they could remove your burdens and see which man survived being pulled under the waves.

Hell Masterlist | Masterlist | Taglist

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#poly!kortac #poly kortac #cod #fanfiction #cod x reader #cod krueger #krueger x reader #nikto x reader #nikto call of duty #konig call of duty #konig x reader #lostinstransit writing #female reader

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doctorbitchcrxft · 14 hours ago

Text

When the Levee Breaks | Lucifer Rising | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: just so much angst, all of it, mentions of torture, potentially triggering for those with religious trauma, ADDICTION DISCUSSED HEAVILY, relapse, withdrawal, etc

Word Count: 6307

A/N: Y'all!!!!! The end of season 4!!!!

Thank you so so so so so so so sososoososos much for stickin’ by me thus far. I am so very blessed and thankful to be writing for such a supportive audience.

I do just want to make y’all aware that I will be waiting until I have completely finished writing season five to upload the first episode of the season. I do apologize! That’ll probably take me a few months to finish. However, I do want to prioritize writing my queue of requests and also make sure that this last season is as amazing as possible. Thank you, thank you, thank you, for all of the support.

<3, m

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You didn’t have much time to think on Castiel’s foreboding message to you because Sam was practically vibrating with anxiety. “Alright, let's hear it,” he practically pleaded.

“What?” Dean responded.

“Drop the bomb, man.” Sam was clearly still ignoring you, and you were temporarily okay with that. “You saw what I did. C’mon, stop the car, take a swing.”

The older brother shook his head. “I'm not gonna take a swing.”

“Then scream, chew me out.”

“I'm not mad, Sam.”

The man scoffed. “C’mon. You're not mad?”

Dean pursed his lips. “Nope.”

After making sure your phone was on silent, you rang Bobby’s phone for three rings exactly, and then, hung up before he could answer.

“Right. Look, at least let me explain myself—”

“Don't. I don't care.”

“You don't care?” Sam replied. He sounded almost hurt.

“What do you want me to say, that I'm disappointed?” Dean sighed. “Yeah, I am. But, mostly, I'm just tired, man. I'm done. I am just done.”

Just then, Sam’s phone rang. “Hey, Bobby.” You could see his expression turn to panic in the passenger’s side mirror, and you did your best to look discreetly.

“What's going on?” Sam asked.

Dean feigned surprise as Sam hung up the phone. “What'd he say?”

****

“Well, thanks for shaking a tail,” Bobby told you as you rushed into the hallway toward his panic room.

Dean nodded. “Yeah, you got it.”

Sam opened the door.

Smoothly, Bobby told him, “Go on inside. I wanna show you something.”

The younger brother walked into the panic room while you, Dean, and Bobby stayed in the doorway.

Sam looked at Bobby expectantly. “Alright. So, uh, what's the big demon problem?”

“You are. This is for your own good,” Bobby said evenly, and you and Dean helped to quickly shut the door.

“Guys? Hey, hey. What?” Sam walked toward the barred window in a panic. “This isn't funny. Guys! Hey! Guys?” he continued shouting even as you walked away. Once Bobby latched the window, his cries were muffled and easier to stomach.

“Thanks, Bobby,” Dean told him quietly when you were farther away from the door Sam was repeatedly banging on.

“Don’t mention it,” the man replied. “And I’d be thankin’ her.” He nodded toward you.

Dean slipped his fingers in yours and brought them up to his lips to kiss gingerly. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry I said those things to him back when we picked up Jimmy,” you told him. “I do plan on apologizing to him when he’s… y’know, better.”

Dean nodded. “You don’t have to apologize. I mean, you coulda said it differently, but you were right.”

Bobby sighed. “Alright. You kids better get some sleep. I got the upstairs bedroom ready for ya.”

“Thanks, Bobby,” you smiled weakly.

When you’d finally finished showering and were busy brushing your hair, you met your eyes in the mirror for the first time in days. Your damp hair looked messy to you no matter how many harsh strokes you made through it, your eyes had a sadness you couldn’t remove no matter how many times you’d tried smiling at yourself in the mirror, and your cheeks had an abnormal flush. You’d thought you were doing better, and then, you saw Jimmy again. Every horrible thing you’d done came flooding back, and it reopened the wound inside you’d tried so hard to mend.

Dean came up behind you and pressed a kiss to your shoulder, but you hardly registered it. With his arms around your waist, his eyes met yours in the mirror. “Are you okay?”

You turned to face him. “I don’t even know anymore, Dee. Are you okay?”

His lack of an answer was enough for you.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” you said.

“For what? You haven’t done anything,” he answered.

“I know. But I figured you’d wanna hear it from someone.”

He leaned his forehead against yours and closed his eyes, and you tilted your chin up to kiss his nose.

“I don’t know how to help him, (Y/N),” Dean sniffled. He was trying his best to hold back tears, and it broke your heart.

You reached up to cup both sides of his face. “It’s not your job to help him. I know you want to, but you can’t help somebody who doesn’t wanna help themselves.”

“I’m gonna damn well try.”

“Dean, I tried with Steven. And I lost him anyway.” You hadn’t meant for your voice to sound so harsh, but it was the truth. “Look, I think we’re doing the only thing we can do for him right now. And if, after he detoxes, he chooses to relapse? We can’t do anything about that.”

Dean broke away from you and walked over to the bed with his shoulders squared. “He’s not gonna. I’m not gonna let him.”

“I don’t think you would’ve let him start demon blood in the first place, and here we are,” you responded. You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Look, I don’t wanna fight with you. Not you. Not right now. Can we just go to sleep? Please?”

Dean’s face was stoic, but he nodded.

When you’d slipped under the covers with him, he wrapped his arms around your waist. “I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you.” He kissed your forehead.

“I know, baby, it’s okay.” You brushed a hand over his head and rested it around his neck. “Goodnight.”

“G’night, sweetheart.”

****

The next day, you stood with Dean outside the panic room. Sam had been slamming against the door for hours, and you needed him to stop.

“Okay. Let me out. This is not funny,” the younger brother pleaded, grabbing the bars on the small window.

“Damn straight,” Dean replied gruffly.

You leaned against the wall with your arms crossed, simply listening.

“Dean, come on. This is crazy,” Sam chuckled, although there was an edge of nervousness in his voice.

“No. Not until you dry out.”

“Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lied to you. Just open the door.”

Dean’s face drew together. “You don't have to apologize. It's not your fault. It's not your fault that you lied to me over and over again. I get it now. You couldn't help it.”

Sam sighed. “I'm not some junkie.”

“Really? I guess I've just imagined how strung out you've been lately,” the older one scoffed.

“You're actually trying to twist this into some kind of ridiculous drug intervention?”

Dean shrugged. “If it smells like a duck.”

“Dean, I'm not drinking the demon blood for kicks. I'm getting strong enough to kill Lilith.”

“And my brother didn’t do drugs for kicks,” you couldn’t help but add, “he did it to calm himself down after my dad beat his ass. He did it ‘cause his life sucked. There’s always a reason, Sam.”

“You’re acting like I’m shooting heroin—!”

“You might as well be!” you shouted back. “You think this is making you ‘stronger,’ but you are erratic. You’re weak. You’re desperate.”

“Try pathetic,” Dean added.

“Killing Lilith is what matters. Or are you two so busy being self-righteous you forgot about her?” Sam snarled.

“Oh, Lilith's gonna die. Bobby, (Y/N), and I will kill her. But not with you.”

“You're not serious.”

“Congrats, Sammy,” Dean stated firmly. “You just bought yourself a benchwarmer seat to the apocalypse.”

Despite Sam’s begging for Dean not to go and to let him out, Dean shut the window and walked away. You cast one look at the door before following him out.

****

Sam’s screaming had gone on for hours. No matter how many glasses of whiskey you and Dean drank, you couldn’t drown it out.

“And I thought meth withdrawals were bad,” you said monotonously, taking another sip of your whiskey.

“How long is this gonna go on?” Dean asked Bobby.

Bobby raised an eyebrow. “Here, let me look it up in my demon-detox manual. Oh wait. No one ever wrote one. No telling how long it'll take. Hell, or if Sam will even live through it.” Leaving you with that thought, Bobby’s phone rang. “Hello. Suck dirt and die, Rufus. You call me again, I'll kill you.”

Dean made a face. “What's up with Rufus?”

“He knows,” Bobby replied simply.

It left you with more questions than answers.

Then, Bobby’s phone rang again. “I'm busy, you son of a bitch. This better be important.”

As it turned out, the news Rufus had to share was incredibly important. So many seals were breaking at incredible speeds, and there couldn’t be many left intact.

“Where the hell are your angel pals?” Bobby nodded at you.

You shook your head. “For once, I wish I knew.”

Bobby looked like he didn’t want to say what he was about to. “I'm just wondering…”

“What?” you and Dean asked.

“The apocalypse being nigh and all…” he trailed off, “is now really the right time to be having this little domestic drama of ours?”

Dean’s shoulders went rigid. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I don't like this any more than you do, but Sam can kill demons. He's got a shot at stopping Armageddon.”

The older brother scoffed. “So what? Sacrifice Sam's life, his soul, for the greater good? Is that what you're saying? Times are bad, so let's use Sam as a nuclear warhead?”

“Look, I know you hate me for suggesting it. I hate me for suggesting it,” Bobby responded. “I love that boy like a son. All I'm saying, is maybe he's here right now instead of on the battlefield because we love him too much.”

You nodded. “I get it,” you said after a moment.

“You do?” Dean glared at you.

“Yes.” You glared right back. “To hell with the apocalypse. But remember what I said last night? About ‘you can’t help somebody who won’t help themselves’?”

Dean nodded, though his eyebrows were still furrowed and angry.

“Sam doesn’t want to stop,” you said. “And it stings. And I hate it. But we can’t keep ‘im locked in there forever. Even if we do stop the apocalypse, we could let Sam out and he could immediately go out for another fix.”

“I can’t believe you, (Y/N)—” Dean shook his head.

“Dean,” you cut him off. “I already lost my brother. I don’t want you to lose yours. I don’t wanna lose my friend. I’m telling you, I think letting him out might be the move.”

Dean shook his head and headed to the door. You didn’t see him for hours after that.

****

While you were upstairs writing in your journal, you heard a subtle flapping of angel wings from the corner of your room.

“What do you want, Castiel,” you sighed.

“Hello, (Y/N),” he replied.

“We’re gonna set some boundaries now, ‘kay?” You shut the journal and crossed the room to the angel. He didn’t react to the finger you shoved in his face, but it was clear it annoyed him slightly. “You don’t get to turn into Uriel on me, alright? You don’t get to do that. I won’t answer your every beck and call. You can tell me what you want me to do, but that doesn’t mean it’ll happen. Got it?”

“Have you finished?” Castiel asked monotonously.

Your glare was enough of an answer for him.

“You will answer when I call. You will do as I say. Remember, my orders do not come from me. They come from—”

“Oh, the big man upstairs?” you scoffed and turned away from him. “And where the fuck has he been? Multiple seals have broken in the last few hours alone, and you and the angels seem to be on sabbatical. But, please, order me to go stop all of them on my own without any divine intervention. Go ahead.”

“I’m growing tired of your whining, (Y/N),” Castiel told you. “You will let Sam out of the safe room tonight.”

You snorted. “And why would I do that?”

“Because you know what Heaven will make you do if you don’t.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “You wouldn’t do that to me, Clarence.”

He sighed. “The order doesn’t come from me, (Y/N). You know that.”

“So, here’s my options, right?” Tears welled in your eyes. “Either I submit fully to Heaven’s whims, or you make me torture my boyfriend. And you would do that to me: you, Castiel.”

“You cannot put this on me,” he responded flatly. “My orders are from my superiors. I am merely the messenger between them and the humans in my charge. I am not doing anything to you. Heaven isn’t, either. You make the choice here.”

When you looked back up, he was gone.

****

Castiel had apparently paid Dean a visit after he met with you, and Dean swore to obey Heaven’s orders for the greater good of humanity.

“Correct me if I'm wrong, but you willingly signed up to be the angels' bitch?” Bobby questioned Dean.

The screams from Sam in the basement were deafening you despite how muffled they actually were.

Dean gave Bobby a harsh look

“I'm sorry. You prefer 'sucker'?” the elder man scoffed. “After everything you said about them, now you trust them?”

“Bobby, go easy,” you urged. “They probably threatened him the way they’ve been threatening me.”

Dean whipped his head to meet your eyes. “They’re still threatening you?”

You looked down at the floor.

Your partner sighed and looked back at Bobby. “I've never trusted them less. I mean, they come on like shady politicians from planet Vulcan. I just— I’m out of options. It's either trust the angels or let Sammy trust a demon.”

Bobby finally nodded. “I see your point.”

The room quieted. In fact, everything was quiet. “Y’all hear that?” you questioned.

“Yeah, that's a little too much nothing,” Bobby replied.

Immediately, the three of you sprinted to the basement and opened the window in the door. Your eyes immediately landed on Sam who was convulsing on the floor of the panic room violently.

“What if he's faking?” Dean asked you.

“That’s not faking,” you said, and you immediately threw open the door.

The three of you did your best to hoist him to the cot and hold him there.

“We're gonna have to tie him down for his own safety!” Bobby shouted over Sam’s choking. “Dean? You with me? Dean! Before he has another fit.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let's just get it over with,” the older brother finally replied.

****

The seizure was the final straw for you. Ultimately, you were the reason Sam was seizing from withdrawals. You were the reason he was in pain, and you were helping Dean hurt him. You tried to convince yourself that you were only letting him out to fulfill Castiel’s wishes and protect Dean, but deep down, you felt it was the right thing to do.

You’d told Bobby and Dean you were just sitting with Sam until his seizure was over, but you’d opened the door for him and untied him. Once back upstairs, you heard Bobby and Dean arguing.

“I'm gonna ask one more time. Are we absolutely sure we're doing the right thing?” Bobby asked, looking between you and Dean.

The younger man sighed. “Bobby, you saw what was happening to him down there. The demon blood is killing him.”

Bobby’s voice got quiet. “No, it isn't. We are.”

‘Okay, good. At least he’s feeling the same.’ You almost breathed a sigh of relief.

“What?” Dean asked.

“I'm sorry. I can't bite my tongue any longer. We're killing him. Keeping him locked up down there. This cold-turkey thing isn't working. If— If he doesn't get what he needs, soon, Sam's not gonna last much longer.”

“No. I'm not giving him demon blood. I won't do it.”

“What if he dies, Dean?” you asked.

“Then at least he dies human!” he argued. “I would die for him in a second, but I won't let him do this to himself. I can't. I guess I found my line. I won't let my brother turn into a monster.”

**** After you’d ensured Sam was out of the room, you couldn’t hold it back any longer. You knew Dean would be furious, but you’d done as Castiel asked. Castiel never explicitly told you not to tell Dean, so now was the time.

“Okay,” you finally said as you finished drying the last dish from dinner. “I can’t hold it in anymore.”

Dean chuckled. “What? Your stomach’s already that upset?”

You would’ve smiled had the circumstances not been different. “No. I let Sam out.”

The room went completely silent.

“You’re kidding,” Dean said.

“I’m not.”

“Dammit, (Y/N)!” he roared, immediately standing from the table. “Why the fuck would you do that?!”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Because Castiel made me!”

“No, you can’t use the angel excuse this time,” he grunted. “You wanted to let him out. Hell, that’s what we’ve been arguing all day about!”

“No, Dean, I’m serious!” you answered. “He was in our room last night. He told me the same thing that Uriel told me. That if I didn’t comply, I’d have to hurt you.”

“And why would the angels want him high on demon blood? I mean, what reason would they have to let ‘im out!”

“I don’t know, Dean!” you answered. “Look, I was honest with you. I let him out. Heaven’s orders. But they never said we couldn’t track ‘im down and bring him back.”

Dean was clearly still fuming, but he nodded. “Fine. If something happens to him, I swear to god, (Y/N)—”

“I don’t want him in danger anymore than you do! I swear. I wouldn’t have let him out if it weren’t for the angels. I would’ve kept him locked up, because even if I disagree with you, he’s your brother. I wouldn’t go behind your back like that without angel intervention. I promise.” Your words seemed to sink in a bit. “I swear, Dean.”

“Alright!” he huffed finally. “I’m allowed to be pissed off about this. But I believe you.”

You breathed out in relief. “Thank you. He would’ve taken one of Bobby’s cars. I’ll run all the plates and find the one that’s missing. Okay?”

“Okay.”

****

You worked hard through the whole night to find where Sam had taken Bobby’s car. Around ten that morning, you got a hit.

Dean walked over to you with a cup of coffee. Though he was still mad, you were grateful for the small peace offering. “Police found Bobby’s car.”

“They did?” Bobby cut in.

“Yep,” you replied. “Abandoned in an alley in Jamestown, North Dakota.”

“He's switching up,” Dean nodded. “Any other cars stolen in Jamestown?”

“Two: nineteen ninety-nine Honda Civic, blue—” you began.

Bobby cut you off. “Nice and anonymous, like Sam likes.”

“What was the other one?” Dean questioned.

“White oh-five Escalade with custom rims. It's a neon sign,” you answered.

“You're right. He'd never take that. Which is exactly what he did,” your partner decided.

“You think?”

“I know that kid,” Dean insisted. “Alright, I'll head in that direction. You stay here, ride the police databases,” he told Bobby. “C’mon, (Y/N). We gotta find him quick.”

****

And you did. Dean truly knew his brother better than anyone. Sure enough, the flashy car Dean knew Sam would’ve stolen was parked in the lot of a hook-up motel, a place Dean knew his brother would never stay unless he was trying to evade Dean.

“Dee, are you gonna be okay?” you asked him quietly before the two of you got out of the car.

He couldn’t verbally respond. He just took a deep breath and nodded. You pulled the demon knife out of the glove box, and you and Dean headed inside.

You hid around the corner at the end of the hallway and waited for Sam or Ruby— who you knew he had to be with— to leave his room. Soon enough, you heard Sam’s unmistakable and retreating footsteps.

Dean’s face was set in hard lines as he peered around the corner at his brother. Your heart cracked in your chest at the entire situation.

With the demon knife clutched in your hand, you steeled your nerves and entered Sam’s room.

“Sam?” Ruby called from inside. You could tell she was lounging on the bed from the way half of her body was concealed by the wall that formed the bathroom in front of you.

“Guess again,” you said, and you were on her in an instant. Since you’d managed to catch her slightly off-guard, she was unprepared for the way you slashed at her throat with the demon knife. The knife only managed to scratch her as she pushed you off her. Dean was next to brawl with her, and you tossed the knife to him that he caught effortlessly. As you fought Ruby, the two of you moved expertly. You had become so accustomed to Dean’s fighting style, and him to yours, that the two of you moved almost as if you were dancing.

Within minutes, Sam was back in the room and joining the fray. He begged you and Dean to stop, but neither of you relented.

“Well, it must've been some party you two had going, considering how hard you tried to keep me from crashing it. Well, solid try, but here I am,” Dean snarled.

“Dean, I'm glad you're here. Look. Let's just talk about this.” Sam held his hands out as you stalked around Ruby.

“Not until she’s dead,” you insisted.

Sam cut his eyes at you. “Ruby, get out of here.”

“No, she's not going anywhere.”

Sam stepped in front of his brother as Dean tried to rush Ruby.

“She's poison, Sam,” Dean insisted.

“It's not what you think, Dean.”

“Look what she did to you. I mean, she up and vanishes weeks at a time, leaves you cracking out for another hit—”

“She was looking for Lilith.”

“Bullshit,” you jumped in.

Sam shook his head. “You're wrong, guys.”

“Sam, you're lying to yourself. I just want you to be okay,” Dean tried. His eyes had softened considerably. “You would do the same for me. You know you would.”

“Just listen.” He tossed Ruby’s knife that he’d taken from Dean onto the bed. “Just listen for a second. We got a lead on a demon close to Lilith. Come with us, Dean. We'll do this together.”

Dean nodded with his lips pursed. “That sounds great. As long as it's you, me and (Y/N). Demon-bitch is a dealbreaker. You kiss her goodbye, we can go right now.”

Sam’s face fell. “I can't.”

Dean shook his head and turned away.

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“Dean, I need her to help me kill Lilith,” Sam insisted. “I know you can't wrap your head around it, but maybe one day you'll understand. I'm the only one who can do this, Dean.”

“No,” you said.

“No?” Sam scoffed. “Right, I forgot. The angels think it's you two.”

“You don't think we can?” Dean questioned pointedly.

“No,” he snapped, “you can't. You're not strong enough.”

“Oh, and you are?” you laughed coldly. “Who the fuck do you think you are, dude?”

“I'm being practical here. I'm doing what needs to be done.”

“Yeah? You're not gonna do a single damn thing,” Dean insisted.

Sam shouted, “Stop bossing me around, Dean. Look. My whole life, you take the wheel, you call the shots, and I trust you because you are my brother. Now I'm asking you, for once, trust me.”

“No. You don't know what you're doing, Sam.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Then that's worse.”

“Why? Look, I'm telling you—”

Dean cut Sam off. “Because it's not something that you're doing, it's what you are! It means—” He stopped his sentence short.

“What? No. Say it.” Tears had formed in Sam’s eyes, and despite your anger, you were heartbroken for him.

Dean took a deep breath. “It means you're a monster.”

Sam nodded sharply, and he wiped away a sniffle before punching Dean hard.

“What the fuck?!” you shouted.

“Stay out of this, (Y/N)!” Sam replied.

You rushed Sam, jabbing your elbow underneath his jaw and uppercutting him.

Dean was back in the fight, and the two of you tried your hardest to pull your punches in an attempt to keep from hurting you. However, it seemed that Sam had other plans. His punches were hard. His punches were angry. You felt hatred behind his jabs, and the feelings were physically hurting you worse than any of the punches he threw.

He threw you into the wardrobe roughly, and you felt a muscle in your back pull. Then, you raised your head to see Sam above Dean choking him viciously.

You cocked your gun from the heap you were in on the ground aimed at Sam’s head. The brunet snapped his head toward you, and hurt flashed across his face at the determination in your expression. “Let go of him now, or I swear to god, I will shoot you like a fucking dog, Winchester.”

To your relief, Sam listened. Dean gasped and choked while he clutched at his throat.

Sam’s jaw was set. He stood up with his hands raised. “You don't know me. You never did. And you never will.” The brunet walked toward the door.

“You walk out that door,” Dean choked out, “don't you ever come back.”

Sam stopped for a moment. He looked at the damage he’d caused, then once at the two of you, and then, he left.

Every bone in your body hurt, but you willed yourself to rise from the floor for Dean’s sake.

“Dean?” you coughed. “Baby?”

“Yeah,” he replied breathlessly from his unmoving position on the floor. “Yeah, I’m here, sweetheart.”

You limped over to him, clutching your side where you’d caught Sam’s leg when he kicked you. “Can you sit up?”

“I’m fine, (Y/N),” he insisted.

“No, shut up.”

His mouth immediately closed.

“Can you sit up?”

He nodded, and you helped him into a sitting position against the bed.

“I know you don’t wanna hear it right now—”

“(Y/N)—” Dean warned, an edge in his voice.

“—but I am so fucking sorry.” You bent down next to him.

With his eyes closed, Dean just reached for your hand. You took it immediately, and Dean squeezed it to assure you he appreciated your apology.

****

You’d had a horrible migraine since the fight with Sam, and you didn’t doubt that you had a concussion.

“I’ll kill ‘im for what he did to you,” Dean snarled, clutching a beer bottle. The two of you sat at the table in Bobby’s kitchen.

“It’s okay,” you said.

“No, (Y/N), it’s not.”

“I agree, it’s not,” Bobby chimed in. He handed you a fresh ice pack that made you wince when you put it to your head. “Maybe you should give ‘im a call.”

Dean was completely zoned out, staring out the window behind you.

“Dean? Dean! You listen to a word I said?” Bobby called.

“Yeah, I heard you. I'm not calling him.”

“Don't make me get my gun, boy,” Bobby sighed.

Finally, the older Winchester turned toward him. “We are damn near kickoff for Armageddon, don't you think we got bigger fish at the moment?”

“I know you're pissed. And I'm not making apologies for what he's done, but he's your—”

Dean cut him off. “Blood? He's my blood, is that what you were gonna say?”

Bobby gave him a sharp look. “He's your brother. And he's drowning.”

“I know he is,” you said. “But we should not call him right now. Steven was addicted to meth; I’ve told you this. He doesn’t want help. Neither did Steve. If we keep trying, we’re just gonna push him further to his drug.”

“It’s not too late for him, kid. You gotta keep tryin’.”

“No, damnit! No.” Dean’s voice softened. “I gotta face the facts. Sam never wanted part of this family. He hated this life growing up. Ran away to Stanford first chance he got. Now it's like déjà vu all over again. Well, I am sick and tired of chasing him. Screw him, he can do what he wants.”

“You don't mean that.”

“Yes I do, Bobby. Sam's gone. He's gone. I'm not even sure if he's still my brother anymore. If he ever was.”

Bobby was fuming for a reason you couldn’t understand. He swiped his hand across his desk, throwing books and papers to the ground. He advanced on Dean, and you froze.

“You stupid, stupid son of a bitch! Both of you!” Bobby roared. “Well, boo hoo, I am so sorry your feelings are hurt, princess! Are you under the impression that family's supposed to make you feel good?! Bake you an apple pie, maybe? They're supposed to make you miserable! That's why they're family!”

“Bobby, we can’t fix him if he doesn’t want to be fixed! Why don’t you get that?!” you responded loudly.

“You sound like a whiny brat.” Bobby turned back to Dean. “And you? You sound like your dad. Well, let me tell you something. Your dad was a coward.”

“You’re way off-base, Singer,” you sneered.

“Don’t you tell me what I am, kid. Both of you, listen to me. Your dad? He'd rather push Sam away than reach out to him. Well, that don't strike me as brave. You are a better man than your daddy ever was. So you do both of us a favor. Don't be him.”

You shook your head and huffed, turning away from the two men.

When you looked back up, you were suddenly in the cabin you’d tortured those vessels in. “Oh, you fuckers.”

“Whoa, (Y/N), mind your language, kiddo,” Zachariah sneered.

“What do you want, man?” you asked. Your voice was more exhausted than anything. “Why am I here?”

“Excuse the nostalgia trip,” he replied. “We just needed to separate you from the elderly alcoholic and our man-of-the-hour.”

Your brow furrowed. “Dean? What do you want with him?”

“We’re just keeping him safe until it’s time for him to play his part,” he replied simply.

Your stomach had dropped slightly, an unsettled feeling within you. “What about the apocalypse? Shouldn’t we be focusing on that instead of ‘keeping Dean safe’?” you asked.

A slow smile stretched across his face. “We’ve got one seal left until showtime.”

“You dropped the ball that bad?” you scoffed. “And what does that have to do with Dean?” Suddenly, realization smacked you like a ton of bricks. Your breath quickened, and your jaw dropped in disbelief. “Oh,” you laughed in bewilderment, “oh. You don’t want to stop the apocalypse, do you?”

“Nope. Never did,” the angel smiled. “The end is nigh. The apocalypse is coming, kiddo, to a theater near you.”

“Then why did you nearly get us killed several times tryin’ to save seals?” you asked.

“Our grunts on the ground; we couldn't just tell them the whole truth. We'd have a full-scale rebellion on our hands. I mean, think about it. Would we really let sixty-five seals get broken unless senior management wanted it that way?” Zachariah stated snarkily.

You shook your head, beginning to pace the floor while you ran a hand through your hair.

“The apocalypse— poor name, bad marketing; puts people off— when all it is is Ali/Foreman. On a... slightly larger scale. And we like our chances. When our side wins— and we will— it's paradise on earth. Now, what's not to like about that?” he grinned.

“You’re gonna waste millions of people in the name of a petty dick-measuring contest?” you questioned in complete befuddlement.

He shrugged. “Well, you can't make an omelet without cracking a few eggs. In this case, truckloads of eggs, but you get the picture. Look, it happens. This isn't the first planetary enema we've delivered.”

You just continued to shake your head. “I can’t fucking believe this.” “Seems Uriel was right about your language and insubordination,” he droned.

“Oh, go to Hell.” You spun on your heel. “So, the plan’s to keep me and Dean locked up while Sam does… what, exactly?” You looked at him expectantly.

Zachariah inhaled deeply. “Sam has a part to play. A very important part. He may need a little nudging in the right direction, but I'll make sure he plays it.”

“What does that mean? What are you gonna do to him?” you asked.

“Sam, Sam, Sam. Marcia, Marcia, Marcia.” The angel rolled his eyes. “Forget about him, would you? You have larger concerns. Why do you think I'm confiding in you? You're still vital, dear (Y/N).”

“Which means…?”

He just smirked at you.

“Okay, if you won’t tell me what you want with me, tell me what you want with Dean.”

“You humans and your false loyalties,” he sighed mockingly, shaking his head. “Dean’s going to stop Lucifer.”

“How the fuck is he supposed to do that?” you questioned pointedly, crossing your arms.

“You’re going to help him. And when it's over, and when you've won, your rewards will be... unimaginable. Peace, happiness,” he trailed off and chuckled. “Trust me, one day, we'll look back on this and laugh.”

You sneered, “How much of this is ‘god’s divine plan’? “His plan to prosper and not to harm us’?”

Zachariah laughed coldly. “God? God has left the building. I’ll leave you to stew in your melancholy. Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

Despite his threats, as soon as he was gone, you ran full-force at the cracked window beside the fireplace. Unfortunately, all that did was really hurt your shoulder, and the window remained intact. You groaned, and then, you picked up a chair to hurl at the same window. Still, nothing worked.

Tears of frustration formed in your eyes, and your heartbeat roared in your ears. Nearly ripping at the roots of your hair, you tried to collect yourself with a few deep breaths.

It was all too much. It was too heavy. And then, something dawned on you. Lilith was the last seal. You remembered something from the copy of Revelations your mother once owned that the first demon— Lilith— was supposed to die in order to break the sixty-sixth seal.

“You let me out right now!” you screamed, banging on the walls. “Let me out! LET ME OUT!”

Suddenly, Castiel appeared behind you.

“What do you want, you son of a bitch—” you snarled.

“I am sorry for what we’ve done to you,” he said, cutting you off. “Good luck, (Y/N).”

“Where’s Dean?!”

Before he could answer your question, you’d been transported to the outside of a church. The sky was dark and ominous above it, and your apprehension mounted when you saw the red stained glass adorning the windows of the slowly collapsing exterior.

“(Y/N)?”

You audibly sighed in relief as you ran toward the source of the voice. “Dean!”

He caught you in his arms and buried his face in the crook of your neck. He breathed you in deeply, and you closed your eyes in content. Then, he began his usual search of your face and body for injuries while his hands cupped your chin. “You okay?”

You nodded, smiling warmly. “Are you?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. C’mon, we gotta go,” he said, running toward the back entrance of the church with your hand in his.

“I’m assuming you got the same spiel that I did?” you asked.

“What, with the angels bringin’ on Armageddon? Unfortunately.”

“Yeah. Lilith’s the last seal. If she dies, so does half the world.”

Dean kicked in the back door with ease, and then, you came to a much larger set of wooden doors that would’ve been much, much harder for him to kick down. You could hear a sultry voice singing Sam’s name, and then, the younger Winchester spoke himself.

“Sam, don’t!” you cried.

Dean continued trying to break the door down, and you kept screaming for Sam to listen to you.

“(Y/N)?” Sam called, his voice small. “Dean, are you there?”

“Sam!” Dean shouted between heaving breaths. “Sam! Don’t!”

Then, you heard Ruby and Lilith egging him on.

“Sam, no!” you screamed.

It was too late. You heard a whooshing sound followed by Lilith choking on her own blood, and your eyes widened in horror. Then, they landed on a large, iron candelabra. “Dean, help!”

He immediately rushed to your aid, and the two of you used the base of the candelabra as a battering ram. Over the clanging of iron against the door, you could hear Ruby monologuing about how masterful her plan had been in getting Sam to kill Lilith. Sure enough, Ruby had been on Hell’s side the whole time.

The two of you finally broke through the door, and you reached into Dean’s jacket to grab the demon knife. Ruby stood from the side of a hunched over Sam to confront you and the older brother.

“You’re too late,” she smirked.

“I don't care,” Dean replied.

You advanced on Ruby, a dangerous look in your eyes, and Sam grabbed her from behind to hold her in place. You plunged the knife into her stomach, making sure she held eye contact with you as the light drained from her.

Sam sputtered, “I’m sorry.”

“Sammy, let’s go,” Dean urged.

Then, you noticed the blood pouring from Lilith’s mouth had formed a spiraling circular pattern on the floor. “Uh, guys?” Suddenly, a brilliant white light shot up from the center point of the pattern, and the convent began to shake.

Dean grabbed your waist and pulled you to his side with one arm, and you clutched his jacket.

“He’s—”

Your eyes met Sam’s as he spoke. He was clutching Dean’s shirt, and Dean was clutching him with his other arm.

“He’s coming.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-nesmith @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @jusbear @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl l @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #spn #supernatural #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #spn series rewrite #supernatural series rewrite #supernatural reader insert

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suku-enthusiasts · 10 hours ago

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Were Just Friends || s. ryomen - (one shots)

❛ ❜ Ryomen Sukuna x f!reader (one shot series) - Arguments

❝you asked your best friend to take your v-card. As friends. No feelings, no strings- Spoiler: it completely ruined your friendship. Now you're dodging each other, pretending nothing happened, while secretly nursing a years-long crush. From meme-filled silence to tearful confessions, jealous fights, and awkward flirting — somehow, you stumble your way into love, marriage, and a house full of sarcastic chaos. Turns out, “just friends” was never really the plan.❞

word count ; 1100k

cw ; mdni • 18+ only. contains explicit sexual themes and content. use of alcohol. smut . anxiety. major fluff

main masterlist | series masterlist

You were eight months in now. Two months into living together. Two months of tiny shared routines, two months of learning all the new edges of one another. The way Sukuna left his socks everywhere — in the bathroom, under the coffee table, somehow even once in the fridge — the way you could never seem to close a cupboard door fully, always leaving them slightly ajar, making him huff every time he walked past the kitchen. You knew it wasn’t perfect. No one had promised it would be. But tonight — tonight was different. It started with something stupid. It always did.

You had left a pile of mail sitting on the counter — again — and Sukuna had huffed about it under his breath, something sharp and muttered. You had snapped back, the irritation already simmering from the long day at work, from the way he’d been short with you lately, from the way he never seemed to just talk about it when he was upset. It escalated fast — a clash of stubborn wills. “You always do this,” you said, standing stiff in the middle of the kitchen, arms crossed tight over your chest. “You act like you’re not mad but you are, and then you sulk around and expect me to fix it without you even saying anything.” Sukuna leaned back against the counter, arms folded, jaw tight. His face was set in that infuriatingly blank way he got when he didn’t want to deal with something. “I’m not sulking,” he muttered.

You scoffed. “Oh my God, you’re literally sulking right now.” He pushed off the counter, eyes flashing. “So I’m not allowed to be pissed when you leave your shit everywhere?”

“It’s not about the fucking mail, Sukuna!” you snapped, voice rising. “It’s about the fact that you never talk about what’s actually bothering you! You just shut down and expect me to guess.”

“That’s bullshit,” he growled, taking a step closer, hands clenched at his sides. “I don’t shut down.” You laughed, sharp and humorless. “You live shut down. God forbid you admit you’re wrong or — I don’t know — actually talk about your feelings like a normal human being.”

His mouth pressed into a hard, angry line, and he shook his head. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing?” you said, quieter now but no less sharp. “You’re scared. Scared if you open up, you’ll lose control. Scared I’ll see all the shit you try to hide and I’ll—” You swallowed thickly. “I’ll leave.” Sukuna said nothing, but his jaw clenched so hard you could see the muscle jump.

“And I’m tired, Sukuna,” you said, voice cracking. “I’m tired of pretending it doesn’t bother me. I’m tired of letting things slide because you won’t meet me halfway.” The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. You stared at him, heart hammering, waiting — for what, you didn’t know. An apology. A fight. Something. But he just stood there, rigid, silent, locked up tight.

Of course he wasn’t going to say it.

Of course.

You nodded once, sharp, and turned away, throat tight.

“Forget it,” you said, voice low. “Just—forget it. I’m going to bed.” You moved past him, brushing his shoulder, and something in him cracked. “Wait.” You froze. Sukuna’s voice was rough, tight in a way you’d rarely heard. You turned, slowly, to find him standing there, his arms loose at his sides now, hands open — empty. He looked at you, really looked, and for once he didn’t hide the storm in his eyes.

“You’re right,” he said, the words ragged and raw, like they cost him something to say. “I’m scared.” You blinked, throat tight.

He exhaled sharply, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I’m fucking scared because I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to not screw it up.”

“Sukuna—” you started, but he shook his head. “I’m not good at this,” he muttered. “At talking. At being... open. I never had to be before. No one ever stuck around long enough to make it matter.” He looked so wrecked, standing there in the dim kitchen light, bare and vulnerable in a way that made your heart ache. “But you do,” he said, softer now. “You matter.” You swallowed hard, blinking against the sting in your eyes.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he said, voice low. “I don’t want to hurt you. But I don’t know how to not... be this way.” You took a shaky breath and stepped forward, slowly, giving him the chance to pull away — but he didn’t. He stood there, letting you close the distance, until you were close enough to feel the heat radiating off his skin. You reached out, hesitantly, and curled your fingers into the hem of his shirt. “You don’t have to be perfect,” you said, voice trembling. “I just need you to try.” He stared at you, and something in his face softened — melted. “I’ll try,” he murmured, and it wasn’t a promise, not really — it was something better. It was the truth.

You surged up on your toes and kissed him — a soft, aching thing, not desperate, not angry, but full of all the love you hadn’t had the words for. He kissed you back immediately, one hand sliding to cup the back of your head, the other settling low on your back, pulling you flush against him. The kiss deepened slowly, mouths moving together in a way that spoke of apology, of forgiveness, of promises made without words. When you finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“I love you,” you whispered, barely more than a breath. He made a soft, broken sound and kissed you again, slower this time, lingering.

“I love you too,” he murmured against your lips. “Even when you leave the fucking mail everywhere.” You laughed, wet and shaky, and he smiled — a real smile, crooked and boyish, the kind he only gave to you. You tangled your fingers in his shirt and tugged him toward the bedroom. “Come to bed,” you said, voice soft but sure. He didn’t resist. Later, tangled in the sheets, skin to skin, he whispered against your temple, “I’m gonna get better at this.” You smiled into the curve of his shoulder, heart full and steady. “I know,” you whispered back.

And for the first time in a long time, you both slept easy, the kind of sleep that only came when the truth was finally laid bare, when love was not perfect — but real.

#anime fanfic #fanfiction #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen smut #sukuna smut #jjk sukuna #sukuna ryomen #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #jujutsu sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen x reader #jjk ryomen #jujutsu kaisen ryomen

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moondrunk-pages · 22 hours ago

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Rough Hands, Soft Words

The common room is quiet, cast in that late-afternoon sort of light that makes everything feel slower, softer. Most students have cleared out for dinner or patrols, but Remus hasn’t moved from his armchair by the fire. A book rests open in his lap, half-read. Or less than half, really—his eyes keep drifting to the boy sitting opposite him.

Regulus Black.

Which, in itself, is a problem.

He’s lounging like he owns the place, long fingers idly spinning a quill between them, legs crossed, hair artfully disheveled in a way that’s probably planned. He catches Remus watching, and instead of doing the decent thing and looking away, he smiles—slow, sly.

“You’re staring, Lupin.”

Remus blinks, trying and failing to mask the warmth rising in his cheeks. “Wasn’t.”

“You were.”

Regulus stands, stretching like a cat, then makes his way over with the kind of quiet confidence that Remus envies. He doesn’t ask before sinking into the armchair next to him—closer than necessary. Their knees brush. Remus pretends not to notice.

“Let me see your hands,” Regulus says, out of nowhere.

“What?”

“Your hands,” he repeats, already reaching. “Indulge me.”

And for some reason—maybe it’s the lazy curl of Regulus’s voice, or the spark of mischief in his stormcloud eyes—Remus does. He holds them out, palms up, awkward and unsure. They look embarrassingly work-worn against the firelight, all scars and dry knuckles and ink smudges.

Regulus makes a sound, soft and intrigued, and then places his hands against Remus’s.

Their fingers align, mostly. Regulus’s are elegant, thinner, cool to the touch. Remus’s are larger, broader, the pads rough with years of quill-gripping and... other things.

Regulus studies them like they’re something ancient and holy.

“Merlin, Lupin,” he says, almost a whisper. “Your fingers are so long and rough.” He drags his gaze up, locking eyes. “They must feel… interesting.”

Remus’s mouth goes dry.

He’s suddenly very aware of the temperature of the room. Or maybe just of Regulus’s hands still pressed to his. Or the smirk curling his lips like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

Because he does know what he’s doing.

Remus is praying to gods that are long forgotten—any deity that might save him from the way his entire body has gone tense, the way blood is rushing to places it shouldn't in a public space, the way his brain has completely short-circuited.

He wants to speak. Really, he does. He wants to make some clever retort, or at least say something—but his tongue betrays him. His heart’s beating loud enough to drown out thought, and he knows that if he opens his mouth, he’ll stutter through every syllable like a schoolboy with his first crush.

Regulus leans closer. Barely an inch now between them.

“You're blushing,” he says softly, like it’s a secret.

Remus pulls his hands back, not roughly—but he needs distance. Air. Sanity.

“I’m not,” he mutters, despite the obvious.

Regulus doesn’t chase his retreat. He just smiles, self-satisfied, and stands.

“Let me know when you’re ready to hear what I think your hands feel like,” he says, and strolls off like he hasn’t just set Remus Lupin on fire.

The book in Remus’s lap has long since fallen to the floor.

based on a post i saw here on tumblr! by @indigostation

#moonwater #remus lupin #regulus black #romantic moonwater #marauders #pride month #pride #mlm

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juliettrulyyours · 2 days ago

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Human Fangirl Turned Demon Manager

Human Fangirl Turned Demon Manager (Part 2)

HFTDM Masterlist

synopsis: you’re a low-level paperwork clerk demon who somehow ended up hired (threatened) by a smug, too-pretty demon named Jinu to become the manager of the demon realm’s first-ever demon boy band. all because he accidentally found your boy band concept sketches.

warning: cursing and boys being boys (ugh)

i’m really bad at making accurate timelines so… just know i tried my best. also, taglist is officially closed (as of june 29, 2025).

For the next few days—ever since the King of Demons actually approved this fantasy plan of yours—you found yourself knee-deep in demon idol group logistics.

Which was a sentence you never expected to say in either your life… or afterlife.

You’d barely slept or eaten. You’d gone full-on manager mode and locked yourself in a dusty, abandoned hell-office armed with a whiteboard, sticky notes, five sketchpads, and a glowing coffee mug someone (probably Baby) cursed to refill itself with demon espresso. At least… you hoped it was espresso.

The name you decided on for the boys? Saja Boys.

It was catchy, slightly edgy, and translated to “Lion Boys,” which was what you thought Jinu resembled the first time you met him. You’d also assigned each member a carefully crafted idol persona, based on classic K-pop archetypes you knew by heart.

Now, with the group name finalized and their personas set, you were all gathered around a broken table in what was generously being called the Saja Boys’ training room (it was really just a rebranded storage dungeon), brainstorming something even more important—

“What if…” Romance leaned back dramatically, fingers laced behind his head, “…we call our first song ‘Demon Lord Explosion Dynamite.’”

“No,” you said immediately.

Abby jumped in next. “Okay, okay, hear me out… Demon Boys.”

“That’s literally just who you are,” you deadpanned.

Baby slaps his hands on the table. “Wait—what if—‘Demons.’ It’s simple and easy to remember.”

You inhaled slowly. “Do you guys not know any other words besides ‘Demon’?”

They all exchanged looks.

“…No?” Mystery offered.

You pinched the bridge of your nose and took a breath. Then another. This was fine. You were fine. You had trained for this. This was where your inner K-pop stan, human-era strategist, and demon-realm survivor came together.

“Okay,” you finally said, “how about trying one of the looks I sketched out before deciding on a title?”

You flipped open your sketchpad to a page filled with pastel-themed outfits, perfectly coordinated and soft on the eyes. You may or may not have added bunny ear options at the bottom. You glanced up. The boys were staring at the page… then at you… with identical “are you serious?” expressions.

“It’s called a cute concept,” you explained. “Just think finger hearts and aegyo. You reel the fans in with sweetness, then trap them forever. It’s basic K-pop science. I had spreadsheets on this when I was still alive. This will go viral overnight.”

Romance looked offended. “You want me to wear bright yellow?!”

“It brings out your hair,” you shot back.

Jinu raised a brow. “And you think this’ll work?”

You nodded—maybe a little too confidently, considering you were still scared he might bite your head off if you said otherwise.

He studied the sketches one last time, then snapped his fingers. There was a puff of pinkish smoke, and was that glitter? And when it cleared—

Your jaw dropped. Gone were the terrifying, edge-lord demon boys you’d been dealing with for the past few weeks. Standing before you now were five glowing, pastel-wrapped soft boy idols who looked like they belonged in a spring comeback teaser video.

Romance had hearts on the knees of his jeans. Baby wore a yellow beret that somehow made him look both adorable and dangerous. And is it just the demon magic or did he kinda look like Min Yoongi?

Well, now you know who’s your bias if they actually pull this off.

You stared—mouth parted, eyes wide—completely and utterly starstruck. Maybe Jinu wasn’t lying when he said the other guys were hot, too.

For a moment, you forgot you were in the demon realm. You clutched your clipboard to your chest and whispered, “Oh my god. They’re so cute.”

Then, out of nowhere.

Baby turned and smacked Abby across the face with his beret. Mystery levitated mid-air while cradling a mic stand he summoned out of literal nowhere. Romance pulled out a mirror and started whispering compliments to himself that you were absolutely sure should be kept between him and his ego. Jinu adjusted his cuffs while you stared. And then, as if he could sense your gaze, he turned and winked at you.

You flipped him off without thinking.

Just like that, reality snapped back into place. You shook your head, cleared your throat, and tried to collect what was left of your dignity.

“R-Right. So, anyway—”

You flipped your notebook open and started talking again.

“What about a title like…” you scribbled quickly, “…Soda Pop?”

All their heads turned to you. Each with a different expression, clearly reacting confused to what you’d just said.

“Sowda Fap?” Mystery repeated, his brows furrowed.

“No, I think she said ‘So The Fuck,’” Baby chimed in, completely deadpan.

You side-eyed Baby. You couldn’t believe this was the same demon who, just earlier, reminded you of your bias wrecker. Suddenly, your train of thought was cut off by Jinu’s voice.

“Explain,” he said simply.

You cleared your throat. “First of all. It’s SODA POP. Like, you know...” You gestured like you’re holding a can and drinking from it.

They all just stared at you. At first, it was blank confusion—then came the smirks and they all started snickering.

You blinked, puzzled, until it hit you. Your eyes widened in horror as you blurted out, “No! It’s a drink! In a can! Take your minds out of the gutter!” You tried your best not to stutter, even though your cheeks were heating up fast.

These perverts. Ugh. No wonder they were sent to the demon realm.

“Anyway! We’ll talk about soda next time.” You quickly waved it off, trying to reel their attention back to what’s important. “Let’s focus on the song.”

You tapped your pen on the notebook, regaining your focus. “It’s catchy. It’s got this bubbly, effervescent vibe to it. Something that sounds sweet on the surface but has a deeper, unexpected edge underneath. Perfect for grabbing fans’ attention and holding it.”

As you said that, they started bumping shoulders and wiggling their eyebrows. You nearly rolled your eyes out of your skull.

Still, you pushed on. “We’ll build choreography that’s clean, simple—something with shoulder movements and little signature gestures that fans can mimic. We’ll talk about that part later. For now, I want to focus on maximizing your visuals and crafting lyrics that get stuck in fans’ heads like a curse.”

You paused, tapping the pen once more. You looked at them, waiting for their thoughts. They were all silent now, actually thinking it through.

Then Abby whispered, “It sounds fine…”

Romance nodded and added, “Soda Pop... kinda hot.”

You looked at them with a small smile tugging at your lips. This was progress, they weren’t the easiest demons to work with but still! This was progress.

Jinu finally chimed in, smirking as usual. “So The Fuck it is.”

“It’s Soda Pop! You know it’s Soda Pop—quit messing with me!”

—

As more days passed, maybe you judged them a little too harshly.

Yeah, you were still terrified they might one day turn you into demon soup if this whole plan—all of you had been training for over a month—didn’t work, and they decided it was your fault. Especially since Jinu based this entire soul-devouring strategy on the sketches you made—the ones he confessed to finding after being asked to deliver your reports to the Third Circle.

But hey! Maybe you were just overthinking again.

Speaking of Jinu, you actually hadn’t seen him all day.

The last time you spoke to him was when you asked if he could search the realm for someone with a working printer. Since then, only the other boys had been bothering you—and always for the most unnecessary reasons.

Though, to be fair… some of those moments almost made you wish Gwi Ma would just eat you and get it over with.

For instance, the time Abby decided it was a great idea to dye his hair while Jinu left you in charge with very specific instructions: “Don’t let them do anything funny.”

“What did you do?!”

You screamed from the bathroom door as Abby turned to face you, his hair now split down the middle. Its color is half lime green, half bubblegum pink.

“The fans are gonna love it.”

You stared at him like he just slapped you with a stick. What fans?! You hadn’t even debuted yet.

“You’re not allowed to improvise! We had a concept!”

He spun to admire himself in the mirror, then winked at you.

“You said cute, right? Green and pink are cute, no?”

You tried not to roll your eyes before marching over to him. “Come with me.”

He raised a brow and leaned against the sink dramatically.

“Woah, just like that? I mean, you always stare at me, so it was about time—”

“Shut up and just follow me before Jinu gets back.”

An hour later, he was sitting cross-legged on the floor while you dried his now-normal hair with an old towel.

He exhaled, then mumbled, “Hey… thanks for not ratting me out to Jinu.”

You just hummed in response and kept drying his hair. He just lets you.

After that day, he didn’t try to sit on you as much as he used to.

Guess that was progress.

There was also the time you saw Mystery just sitting on the ground outside the building.

He was just… watching. Watching what? His hair? You didn’t actually know. You could see him staring upward, but his bangs covered his eyes so completely it was hard to tell.

You hesitated a little before quietly sitting beside him and offering him a soda pop.

He stared at the can, then looked up at you.

“None of you knew what a soda pop was, so… figured I could give you one of mine,” you mumbled. “The delivery guy sent me an extra dozen! It’s not because I—whatever.”

You placed it beside him and ran off before he could say anything.

The next day, when you came back to that same spot, there was another can of soda pop beside the empty one you’d given him.

You looked at it, then picked it up with a small smile. Ever since then, you’d always find a new one waiting for you.

You never saw him leave it.

Yet it was always chilled.

Another one was Romance bothering you for the eighth time that same day.

"Manager~" Romance croons as he drapes himself dramatically across your table. "Do you think the fans will cry if I announce I have a girlfriend?"

You don’t even look up from your clipboard. "I don’t care."

"You’re no fun."

"I’m your manager, not your life coach."

He pauses, then acts like he’s deep in thought. “Yeah, but still…”

You glare at him. "Romance, go to rehearsal and quit bothering me."

He pouts at your words and sulks all the way to the door. Though not even fifteen minutes later, you see an iced espresso floating over to you. You lean forward and spot a heart drawn on the lid with sharpie.

So that’s where your sharpie went.

Inside the heart is your name. Wow, his handwriting is really awful.

You take the cup and sip.

Hmm, so he does pay attention.

The most recent incident was with Baby. You were handing out the concept sheets, each detailing their assigned K-pop boy archetype. As you were about to explain it, you caught him chewing on the corner of the paper.

"WHY—why are you like this—"

"I'm hungry."

"You don’t even need food!"

Baby shrugs. "Still hungry."

He then finishes the entire paper in one go. He smirks at you while you glare at him.

The two of you just stare at each other until you’re the first to break and start your speech.

Later, while Baby was heading to his room, he opened the door and spotted a bag filled with spicy chips and soda pop. He just stared at it for a moment, then opened the chips and started eating without a word.

The next day, while you were sitting in the training room, Baby suddenly plopped down on your left shoulder, startling you.

“I’m sleepy. Braid my hair.”

You stare at him, confused. “Huh?”

He didn’t respond—his eyes were already closed.

You just started braiding, even though you didn’t have a rubber band.

—

Jinu is walking down the dim hallway of the building, a neat stack of freshly printed Saja Boys posters tucked under his right arm. He had just come back from the human realm—because apparently, all the printers in the demon realm were broken. Like, why even have printers at all?

He’s kind of annoyed. The trip took longer than expected, and when he finally got to the human realm, he got swarmed by a group of girls asking for his “number.” What does that even mean? He’ll have to ask you about it later.

As he walks, he takes one of the glossy posters and smirks. His plan is finally coming together. After this, after the debut—and if it becomes a success—he and the boys won’t need you anymore. He can take it from there. Oh, and your concept book too, of course. You could return to your simple, boring, underpaid demon office life.

He stops mid-way down the hall, pausing at a faded door with a paper heart taped to it. “Manager”—written in pink glitter pen (courtesy of Romance and your pen collection).

Adjusting the stack of posters in front of him, he pushes the door open without knocking.

“Manager, I got the post—”

(Cue dramatic slow-mo as "Everytime" by CHEN & Punch begins playing out of literally nowhere.)

His words get caught in his throat as he sees what’s inside.

There you were—standing in the side of your office, softly lit by string lights and bathed in wind from the broken window. The dusty mirror in front of you caught your reflection as you held a pair of yellow circular glasses in one hand, debating whether they looked better on your head or off.

And for the first time… Jinu saw you in your human form.

Your eyes are clearer, no oversized robe swallowing your figure, your cracked fang is gone, and you’re standing upright, hands fussing with your hair.

You looked…

Adorable.

You're wearing a fitted pastel-pink shirt and a pair of jeans. Perched on top of your head are round, yellow glasses. You’re focused on your reflection, debating whether to wear the glasses or not—putting them on, taking them off, again and again—until the sound of the door interrupts you.

Jinu is staring directly at you.

Your eyes met his, confusion flickering in your gaze. “…What did you say?”

He doesn’t reply—he just keeps on looking at you, which makes you furrow your brows.

“The posters?” you repeat softly, tilting your head.

Jinu finally snaps back to reality, stammering slightly as he tries to reply. “Y-Yeah. The posters. I… got them.”

You smile faintly. “Oh! Good job. Just divide them later between everyone. I’ll tell you where we’ll be handing them out in the human realm.”

He nods at what you said, yet he’s still standing in the doorway.

You tilt your head again. “...Is there anything else?”

You look at him, waiting for a reply. He opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again. Your face scrunches in confusion. What is he? A fish?

“…Nope.”

He drags the “P” with a pop, then bumps his shoulder against the doorframe while trying to walk away—almost dropping the posters before catching himself with the wall to stay steady.

Without even closing the door, he just leaves.

You shrug it off and look back at yourself in the mirror.

Yeah… it’s definitely cuter with the glasses.

next part

—

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chestersbraincell · 7 months ago

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So we all have that one person we have such deep philosophical ponderings with that we entirely dissociate from our sense of self to the point it feels weird to be “back” by the time the conversation ends?

#philosophy #philosophical #that one person #dissociation #my dad btw #hhhhhh #it’s rare though #it usually takes a few hours and I already burden him enough with my problems as is so #I gotta do it responsibly #can’t wait to get comfortable enough with my therapist to do this to them #therapy will end one of two ways #either they somehow fix me #or I break their mind first #also likely option is I end up in some form of mental #institution #tw sui ideation #tw sui implied #tw sui talk #because I care so little about my life atp #for the first time #ever #I’m planning to be completely open with them #no corner of my fucked up mind will be left unexplored #rip my future therapist rip #like oh yeah ahaha I actually do have this entirely unlogical beliefs and intrusive thoughts #and I logically know they are entirely unrealistic #doesn’t stop me believing them tho #and get this get this #I actually use specific delusions to cope with others!!!#an entirely self contained mind fuck

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flashhwing · 9 months ago

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got Fiona in her carrier! Let her out almost immediately and gave her lots of treats and scritches. she seems really wary of it still and is acting a little traumatized so time will tell if I can get her in there again

#I messed up with her big time by forcing her into the last carrier #I spent thirty minutes already trying to coax her in there and was gonna miss my train #but that made it completely impossible to ever get her in there again. through coaxing or by force #which is a shame coz the very first time I took her out she went in and out of her carrier no problem! but now she is traumatized #so I got a new carrier. different shape #bigger opening #no fear pheromones (which were so strong even I could smell them)#and working gradually on getting her used to it #we’ve been working on it but not like dedicatedly #and she has a vet appointment in a week #but also I’m gonna be gone all weekend. that’s gonna throw a wrench in the plans lmao #this has been a post #Fiona the cat

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shosweet · 18 days ago

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toru baby: you hate me

you look at the screen then upwards to a hidden camera — is this a prank??

???

toru baby: why aren’t you back yet

i just got there???

toru baby: so u don’t love me anymore

you had to put down the phone. what in the world is fuckass satoru gojo talking about now, you thought to yourself.

your friends, already seated at the table, noticed you and started calling you over. putting your phone in your pocket, you walked over to them, greeting them with open arms and wide smiles.

now sitting down, you feel your phone vibrate like crazy.

toru baby: come back COME BACK WHERE DID YOU GO PLEASE THIS IS THE END OF ME YOU HATE ME YOU HATE ME

oh. my. goodness.

i’m going to block you

toru baby: NONONONO NO PLEASE

you crane your head up at one of your friends calling your name, asking how you’ve been.

toru baby: fine just LEAVE me ig…

you sigh as you put your phone on do not disturb (as if that’d do anything), put it in your purse, and carry on with your dinner plans.

“ ‘toru?” you call out. all the lights were turned off, but the tv in the living room was still on. walking closer, you see those familiar, messy, white strands falling onto the couch.

leaning over the armrest, you see your boyfriend having a quiet tantrum — pouting, brows furrowed, arms crossed.

“you hate me,” he grumbles. you smile and sit next to him, cupping his cheek as you kiss the other.

“no i don’t,” you respond, satoru’s face still not budging.

“you do,” he persisted, eyes glued to the screen in front of him. you kept kissing his face, trying to get him to reveal his true colors.

“dooon’ttttt,” you sang. he fought the smile creeping on his face. once you saw his lips twitching, you took that opportunity and smushed your face into his cheek, a loud “muuuuuuuah!” staining it a glossy, rose color.

he finally gives in, smiling and pulling you into his body as he fell onto the couch. he pampered your face with kisses, letting out what he held in. after a good minute of laying there together, you sighed and sat up.

“i’m gonna get ready for bed, ‘kay?”

his heart broke, utterly shattered by your words. he groaned like he was shot in the chest, cried like some older kid bullied him on the playground.

“just tell me to die while you’re at it!” he wailed.

“you can come with me if you want, y’know,” you said, rolling your eyes as you pushed yourself off the couch.

“no,” he deadpanned, too distraught to even look at you.

“baby…”

“no.”

“ ‘toru—”

“okay fine if you insist!” he sprung up from the couch, a complete 180 as he turns off the tv. you gave him the dirtiest look as he waits like a dog by the door just before a walk.

“you love me,” he smirks, getting so close to your face your noses touch. you only sigh and playfully push his face away.

“unfortunately, i do.”

#gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #jjk #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk satoru #gojo x you #fluff #gojo fluff

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honey-tongued-devil · 9 months ago

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Arcane characters finding you asleep at their workplace

The devil works hard, but I work a little harder, so I’m back to writing Arcane headcanons a month before season two comes out.

Jayce:

- Strong sense of guilt,

- The first thing that comes to his mind is that you must have waited for him for a long time to fall asleep

- He will make it up to you by trying to cook something for you, stopping to buy your favorite sweets before heading home, and giving you a shoulder massage the moment you sit down somewhere after you wake up.

- The man of the Hamlet-like dilemma: he doesn’t want to wake you, but he also doesn’t want you to be uncomfortable.

- If he has something urgent to do, he’ll try to cover your shoulders with something, even just his jacket, to keep you warm while he finishes only the essentials.

- Once he’s free, he will very gently try to lift you from the chair, apologizing when you wake up and mumble something incoherent.

Viktor:

- In the early years of university, it sometimes happened that he found you in his room asleep, slumped over on a chair or bed with your shoes still on.

- But as the years went by and the lab became his main space, that sight became a constant, repeating at least twice a week.

- He tries to make as little noise as possible, whether with his aides, the door, or the stack of books and notebooks he needs to organize.

- Before getting to work, he leaves the room again to bring you your favorite hot drink with a plastic lid pressed on top, so it doesn’t cool down.

- Then, in complete silence, he works, deciding what to leave for tomorrow and what to do now, so he can finish as soon as possible without delaying too much.

Ekko:

- It’s hard to define what exactly a workplace is for Ekko,

- But he often finds you at the Firelights' tree, in that room that’s supposed to be his, having likely sneaked in through the window to surprise him.

- There are days when he comes back fairly early but stays to tell stories to the kids, and others when things go wrong, and he returns when it’s already dark, and almost everyone is asleep

- Finding you like this always makes him feel the absence of something more stable

- But he shakes his head and quickly pushes aside doubts about his ideals, stepping out of the room again and making more noise as he enters again, so you wake up, and he can pretend to be surprised in front of your open eyes.

- By now, you know he steps out and comes back in, but it makes you smile every single time.

Vander:

- You always sit at a table in the back of the Last Drop to wait for him, trying not to bother him, doodling, doing calculations, or planning something for the next day just to keep yourself entertained.

- But by now, the sound of drunkards and the clinking of coins and glasses have become background noise that helps lull you into a catatonic state.

- Vander usually notices after about an hour that you've fallen asleep; he always keeps an eye on you, but sometimes the customers cause problems.

- He doesn’t like leaving you there, so far away, so he usually waits for a quieter moment to come over, pick you up, and bring you behind the counter, laying you down with your arms and head resting on the wooden bar.

- He knows it’s not a big improvement, but his priority is to keep you safe.

- When he finishes working, he closes the bar without doing the closing duties, sets his alarm for earlier than usual, and carries you to your room in his arms, covering your forehead with kisses.

Silco:

- The problem with Silco finding you asleep in his office is that he rarely arrives alone.

- There’s always either Sevika or at least two other henchmen following him.

- He sighs and sends them away, not without Sevika giving him a provocative look that means everything and nothing.

- He hates those situations because part of him feels a strange warmth at the thought of you sneaking into his office for whatever reason, but on the other hand, he knows it negatively affects his image to be seen as a leader who tolerates certain insubordinations.

- Because sneaking into the kingpin’s office is something that would get almost anyone else outside decapitated. But not you.

- He huffs, pacing the room to deal with both emotions, and when he finally calms down, he approaches you, shaking you slightly to wake you up.

- It’s certainly not the gentlest gesture on his part, but most of the time, it ends with you either going back to sleep in his bed while he works, or sitting on his lap while he flips through papers without paying them much attention.

Jinx:

- She can’t contain her excitement at all. When she notices your figure in her workshop, she always lets out a little happy sound that wakes you up.

- From there, she immediately starts apologizing at least a thousand times, feeling guilty for waking you up but still too happy that you came to visit her.

- She helps you up, talking nonstop about her day and anything that comes to mind as she leads you outside.

- It’s not because she doesn’t want you around, but because she assumes you must be hungry as soon as you wake up, so before you're fully awake, you’ll find yourself at the Last Drop with enough food in front of you to feed her father’s entire gang of henchmen.

- And she will absolutely feed you herself when she sees you haven’t taken a bite in too long, while stealing food here and there and continuing to talk.

Vi:

- For her, too, a "workplace" is a somewhat vague concept,

- But in return, she has her secret spot, where she hides at night and tries to survive when she’s not out on the streets looking for trouble.

- Every time she finds you there, she feels an indescribable pang in her heart.

- She always feels like she’s neglecting the person she loves and failing to make you understand how much she cares about you.

- She always hesitates before waking you up; sometimes she’ll even go change into clean clothes and wash the grime off her hands and face first.

- Then she’ll wake you by sitting next to you, giving you a kiss, calling you by a silly nickname only the two of you know, and rubbing her forehead against yours before asking, with a rhetorical smile,

- "Did you miss me?"

Caitlyn:

- Sometimes you find yourself in the inner waiting room of the precinct, with her colleagues pointing out your body slumped in the chair and raising their eyebrows, teasing her. Other times, you simply sneak into her room, which isn’t much different from the police station anyway.

- Every time, she sighs and gently wakes you, her pale eyes a little sad.

- “Why didn’t you call me?” It doesn’t matter to her that you didn’t want to disturb her, because to her, you’re never a disturbance. It’s not a problem to have you around, even in public. She just feels bad that you waited instead of telling her, so she could have come much sooner.

- She takes you away from the station without any issues, letting you continue resting against her shoulder as a Kiramman private vehicle takes you both to her home.

- If you’re already in her room, she usually changes and lies down next to you, taking the chance to nap together, wrapped in each other's arms.

Mel:

- Falling asleep inside the Senate? Impossible.

- But the keys to her office and her room are always in your pocket, and you usually bring her something to eat when you visit, though by the time you fall asleep, both the coffee and the treats are cold.

- She’s not used to displays of affection, so she stays still for a few seconds before smiling and shaking her head.

- She doesn’t wake you immediately, not because she doesn’t want to, but because if the sound of the door didn’t wake you, you probably need the rest. So she lets you sleep for at least 30 minutes before coming over, brushing your hair behind your ears to wake you, laughing when you lift your head with your eyes still closed.

Sevika:

- The first thing anyone would think is that falling asleep at the Last Drop is extremely dangerous. However, Silco’s henchmen aren’t too different from bipedal dogs by now; they know who you are, recognize your face and scent, and if they notice you’ve fallen asleep somewhere, at least three of them sit at your table to ensure your safety.

- Sevika is always tasked with the worst imaginable jobs—tedious, long, and often dangerous—so when she finally returns, it’s usually either time to open the bar to the public or time to close it.

- Even when she sees you, she can’t come to you right away, so she makes a face at whoever is watching over you, as if urging them to protect you better while she heads into the office.

- Like Silco, part of her feels subconsciously softened by the idea that someone would feel the physical need to be with her so much that they’d wait, sitting until they fell asleep.

- But on the other hand, she’s terrified that someone might see you and come after you to settle personal scores in a cowardly way.

- When she finally comes down, she pulls you into her arms without saying a word, holding you under her large cape as she carries you away.

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gojorgeous · 1 year ago

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"MINE, MINE, MINE."

pairing: alpha!geto x omega!fem!reader summary: your doctor won’t refill your prescription until you’ve reset your cycle. you’re desperate for that refill, but geto’s not having it. content: MDNI (18+ ONLY), a/b/o dynamics, nsfw, dubcon? (reader doesn’t want a heat but it’s medically necessary (LMAO what)), established relationship, unprotected sex, breeding, praise, pet names, knotting, slight manipulation, dacryphilia, somnophilia, spit, blood, oral (fem!receiving), so much licking and smelling?, geto and reader are just downright feral LMAO, lmk if i missed anything. a/n: have y’all figured out that i have a breeding kink yet… anyway, this is the first a/b/o fic that i’ve ever written but i just read one and was feeling *inspired*. if people want i might do a prequel sort of thing for this that goes more in-depth about how they met and stuff. lmk! also, i have a vampire gojo fic planned hehe get ready bbs. if you want more of my omegaverse fics check out my alpha!gojo fic here! and remember, AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED! divider credit to: @cafekitsune wc: 5.2k

“No.”

No? You shift in your seat, cold and plastic, sure you must have heard him wrong.

“I’m sorry?” you ask. You press your tongue to the roof of your mouth, an anxious habit.

“I can’t refill the prescription. I’m sorry, but, frankly, it would be completely irresponsible of me to do so. I’m shocked your previous physician prescribed them for so long.” Fingers find yours and twine them together. Your eyes flash to Geto, but he’s only staring at your new doctor, staring with that furrow in his brow he only gets when he’s worried.

Your new, soon-to-be old, doctor sighs again, running a hand through his thinning white hair. “You need to have a heat as soon as possible, allow your body to recalibrate. Indefinite use of suppressants is dangerous and unhealthy. They are meant to manage your cycles, not stop them altogether.”

Sweat beads on your palms. He can’t be serious. But it’s his first opinion. Surely there’s another option.

“I-I’m sorry, doctor. I don’t think I’m understanding.”

Another glance at Geto reveals that he’s frowning now. When his eyes find yours you see the decision there, one he’s already made without you. Your stomach drops.

The doctor sighs and suddenly the walls of the office feel small, tight, suffocating. The twinge of alcohol and chemicals in the air makes your nose scrunch. “Let me say this clearly. I will not refill your prescription for suppressants, nor will any other reputable physician. You have been taking them continuously for far too long. You risk permanent damage should you delay a proper cycle any longer.” The doctor glances to Geto, then back to you. “Go home with your alpha and allow nature to take its course. It’s what’s best.”

Your eyes widen with realization– you are not leaving this office with what you came for. Your heart pounds and your palms sweat. “Th-that can’t happen, doctor. I need my suppressants. My job- I can’t be out that long a-and Geto can’t either, we–”

“We will go home,” Geto interrupts, and his tone is final. “Thank you, doctor, for the advice.”

Geto pulls you to your feet, gently but firmly. He leaves no question about the fact that you’re leaving. You can feel the intensity radiating off him in waves. You ignore it. You turn to your new doctor, silently smiting him. Why did your old one have to retire?

“Doctor, you don’t underst–”

“Thank you again,” Geto interrupts.

Before you can make another sound, another protest, Geto pulls you through the door, out of the office, and back to the car. He opens the door for you, as he always does, except this time you’re not so eager to accept his chivalry.

“Suguru,” you bite out. His eyes meet yours, but they are surprisingly gentle. So calm. How is he always calm?

“Just get in, baby. We’ll talk about it in the car.”

You debate saying no, but you can’t bring yourself to start a fight when he’s being so good. You grumble when you climb in, buckling your seatbelt before Geto can do it for you.

The engine revs to life, but you hardly notice. You’re already scrolling your phone, the search bar reading a simple and straightforward “doctors offices near me”. You scroll right past the first ten, for once in your life wanting a doctor that’s a little sketchy. You scroll further– still not sketchy enough. Someone who’ll give you the prescription you need, even if it’s not necessarily… ethical. Or maybe you could get some on the street? Surely there was some kind of dealing ring for that. There was a dealing ring for everything, right?

“What are you doing?” His voice is soft, but his fingers are tight around the steering wheel, skin stretched tight across his knuckles.

You lift your phone to your ear, dialing the first office that looked relatively shitty enough. “Getting a second opinion,” you answer.

Suguru plucks the phone so swiftly from your fingers that you hardly even notice it’s gone. You see him end the call and slip it into his back pocket, out of your reach.

“Hey!” You scramble across the center console, hopelessly grabbing at your lost phone, your last hope.

Suguru grabs your wrist, restraining you far too easily for your liking. “You’re not getting it back,” he says. His eyes never leave the road.

Your brows pinch and anger boils in your stomach. “This is not for you to decide. It’s my body.”

He glances at you, unconcerned. Still calm. “And you’re not in a headspace to be making a responsible decision about it, so I’m making it for you.”

Your jaw drops and you pry your wrist free of his grasp. You escape, but you know it’s only because he allows it. “I am of perfectly sound mind, thank you.”

He shakes his head and sighs. “You’re blinded by desperation.”

“It’s still not for you to decide!” When you don’t notice any change in his expression, you switch tactics– from anger to honesty. You let your face fall, let your true feelings creep through. “You know how much I hate it, Su.”

Finally, he cracks. It’s instantaneous, the way he melts for you- the way the soft smile finds his lips and his hand finds yours, twining your fingers together. “I know, but you have to, baby. You heard the doctor.”

You clench your jaw and avoid the sting of tears behind your eyes. You had heard the doctor, but you weren’t ready. Maybe next month, when you’d had more time to mentally prepare.

Your skin crawled. You hated it, hated this. You hadn’t had a heat in years, avoiding them like the plague. You hated how vulnerable they made you, how they put you at the mercy of another. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Suguru– you did. You trusted him more than anyone, anything, but you still hated the feeling of being so completely helpless, so completely out of control, even if it was Suguru you were submitting to.

For most of your life, you’d successfully hidden your omega status. With the help of suppressants, you’d passed as a beta until your early twenties. Then you met Geto.

You’d met at work. He was cute, beautiful even, you’d thought, but he screamed alpha– and alphas could be dangerous, especially for hiding, unclaimed omegas like you. You’d stayed away as long as you could and, for a while, you were quite successful. You avoided him in the halls, sat at the opposite end of the table in meetings, replied to emails succinctly but politely. All was well until you’d been trapped in an elevator with him one morning, biting your lip anxiously as you waited to reach the twelfth floor. He’d smelled so good that day, perhaps due to an oncoming rut. You hadn’t been able to resist inching closer, taking deeper breaths. Suguru would later tell you that he’d suspected your hidden status, but he had no reason to question you. At least, not until he had you up against the elevator wall with his face buried in your neck. One deep whiff was all he’d needed to know exactly what you were, even with suppressants in your system.

You’d dated for a little over a year, until you’d decided he was the one. Your fingers dust over the mate mark on your throat, the one that had not only made you undoubtedly Suguru’s, but also the one that had revealed to the world exactly what you were. There was no hiding your true identity with an alpha’s scarred mark on your neck.

Suguru had never seen you through a heat– no one had. You’d taken your suppressants daily, ever since you met him and even long before that. He’d claimed you on a day like any other, no heat necessary. He hadn’t had a rut in all these years, either. When he felt one coming on all he had to do was pop a single pill and all was well– apparently with none of the nasty side effects that came along with your suppressants. Another unfair privilege of being an alpha you supposed.

“Sugu, I can’t do this.” Your lip is raw from how much you’ve been chewing on it by the time you reach home.

Suguru softly shuts the door behind you, lifting your twined hands to his lips, gently kissing your knuckles.

“Yes you can. I know you can.”

You shake your head. He doesn’t understand– doesn’t know what this will do to you, how it will break you. While you hadn’t had a heat in years, you had experienced them before. You loathed them more than anything, loathed the way your mind was a slave to your body and not the other way around, loathed the way your whole body pulsed and throbbed, loathed the way it made you feel so… weak. “I can’t. It’s-it’s-” Your hands come up to cover your face. You sigh and feel the blush crawling beneath your cheeks. “It’s embarrassing. Humiliating.”

There’s silence for a moment, and then a soft sight. Suguru pries your hands from your face gently. When you meet his eyes, he’s all business.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, baby.”

You shake your head and pull away, pacing. “I don’t want anyone to see me like that, Sugu. Not even you.”

Strong hands catch your waist, holding you still. “It’s not a question. It’s happening– for the sake of your health.”

You scoff and shake your head. “It’s not–”

His thumb presses to your lips with just enough pressure to demand silence. The omega in you coos to listen, to submit– the other part of you reels with annoyance.

“End of discussion.”

He’s closer now and you can feel waves of his breath skating across your skin. It’s like a drug, one that the primal side of you can never get enough of. Give in, give in, give in, your omega begs. Listen to your alpha… You try not to focus on the fact that he smells good enough to eat. You know what he’s doing– using his dynamic to persuade you, to make you see his way, playing to the omega you can usually hide so carefully.

“Sugu…” you say. You intend to be angry but you trail off when his eyes catch yours.

“I got you, baby.”

Your heart melts at the words. He waits. Maybe he knows that the smell of his skin on yours is playing tricks on your mind. You wage a battle within. Every instinct urges you to agree and with every passing second it becomes harder to disagree. Perhaps he’s right, perhaps it's time you give in for once. Let him take care of you, your omega purrs. You’re nodding before you realize what you’ve done.

Suguru kisses you quickly, allowing no time for takebacks. When he pulls away he gets to work. He whips his phone from his pocket and you listen to him talking to his boss, your boss, saying that you’ll both be out of work for a week on “family” leave. Your face heats when you realize that your boss now knows exactly what you two are going to be doing for the foreseeable future. Suguru kisses you one last time before he’s out the door, off to get enough food and supplies to last a week. You won’t be leaving your apartment for some time. You don't fail to notice that he doesn’t return your phone before he’s gone.

You don’t notice a difference, even after the sun is gone. It’s not surprising, considering you usually take your suppressants at night– it’ll take a little while longer for them to fully exit your system… you hope. When you’re brushing your teeth you stare at the empty prescription bottle longingly.

You join Suguru in bed. The moment you crawl onto the mattress he pulls you closer into his bare chest. You savor the way your bodies fit so perfectly- like he was meant for you and you alone. His front curls around your back, a leg slotted between your thighs.

“Feel anything?” he asks.

You shake your head to hide your swallow. You almost shiver when Suguru buries himself in your neck, inhaling your scent. You feel him harden against your backside. He must be able to smell your approaching heat even before you can. Part of you expects instinct to take hold of him, for him to make a move, but he only presses a kiss to your jaw and holds you tighter.

“Sleep, baby.”

For once, you follow orders without a fight.

–

Hot. Too hot.

When your eyes flutter open, you feel the pounding of your heart, the labor of your breath, and the growing ache between your legs.

You sit up so fast you see stars, panic flooding your veins. No, no, no, no, no. This was wrong, you’d made the wrong choice. You couldn’t do this. Already, you could feel control slipping from your grasp, your consciousness giving way to something more primal, more feral. You scramble, preparing to stand, to find your phone, to lock yourself away and suffer through this on your own.

“Deep breaths, baby.”

Only then do you realize Suguru is already awake. He’s behind you, hands on your shoulders, both a comfort and a restraint.

“Can’t-” Your breaths are ragged and so are your words. “Can’t do this, Sugu-”

“Yes, you can.” He whispers. He pulls you closer, tighter against him. “You will.”

You shake your head frantically, tears pooling on your lashes. When you turn, Suguru is staring at your neck, at the mate mark on your throbbing pulse. His jaw is clenched when his tongue darts out to wet his lips. He’s restraining himself, you realize. A glance down reveals he’s already painfully hard in his pants. You wonder how long he’s been sitting there, taking in your scent, waiting for you to wake. No doubt his rut has already been triggered.

His eyes raise to yours and he pauses at the tears that leak down your cheeks. He leans closer, and the scent emanating from his neck makes you groan against your will. His kisses away the tears. Slowly, one at a time.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he whispers. “I’ve got you.”

Your body pulls him closer, even as your mind pushes back. “My phone, Sugu,” you panic. “Gotta gimme my phone. C-call a new doctor.”

He shakes his head and when you start to squirm he only holds you tighter, holds you in place.

“No, baby.”

You whimper, seeking the scent gland on his neck against your will. The smell makes your clit throb almost painfully.

“Sugu, please,” you cry. Tears stream from your eyes, staining your lover’s skin.

“‘S gonna be okay. Just let it happen. Don’t fight it, love.”

With each passing moment, you feel your fight slipping further and further away. Suguru rubs at the muscles in your back until you’re slumped against him, pitifully moaning like a wounded animal. It’s not long before your body takes the reins, until you start desperately humping at his thigh, your clit throbbing almost painfully.

“That’s it. Good girl.”

Your eyes roll back at the praise and when Suguru grips your waist you cry out at the touch. Everywhere his skin meets yours feels electric. You’re burning, burning, burning. It’s not until Suguru lays you down on your back that you see the sopping patch of slick you’ve left on his thigh. You whimper at the sight.

“‘S okay, baby. ‘Ve got you.”

Suguru is looking nearly as lost to the lust as you are. Only his willpower and intent keep him from shredding away your panties and breeding your cunt full that very second. He’s never been in the presence of a scent so intoxicating. He’s never been with you, or any omega, through a heat. He thought you smelled amazing before, but now… He is lost to you, lost to the heat he feels emanating from every inch of your skin, to the honeyed scent pouring from your neck, to the slick he sees staining through your panties. His dick twitches in his pants.

“Love you so much, baby. Gonna take such good care of ya,” he whispers. Instinct drives him forward until he’s plastered his lips to your jaw, licking and biting at the skin. You nearly scream at the sensation. You feel his touch everywhere, all at once. With your last coherent thoughts you know that this heat will be unlike any other you’ve ever experienced. It’s already so intense you can hardly think, and you’ve only just begun.

“Sugu,” you plead.

The sound of his name on your lips breaks him. His hand dips across your stomach, thumbing past the edge of your panties until he’s running his finger through your slit, gathering your slick and rubbing it against your clit.

You scream and thrash, so sensitive it nearly hurts, but he only moves to pin you beneath him, forcing you to take everything he gives.

“Gonna make you feel ‘s good, baby.” he hums. He’s lost to you, to your desires, to your needs. Every piece of him screams to please you, to take care of you, in every way possible.

He continues his messy circles on your clit and until you’re gasping, hole clenching around nothing, begging to be filled.

“S-Sugu…” you whine.

The growl that rips from his throat has you arching your back and bearing your throat in an act of submission. You hear a tear and watch your panties hit the floor. Your shirt follows and then you’re completely bare beneath your alpha. His eyes go black at the sight, pupils blown so wide you can hardly see a smidgen of their usual brown. There’s a deep rumble in his chest that has you keening and reaching for him, needing him. He doesn’t waste time. His tongue finds your neck, laving sloppily at your scent gland and the sensation is so delicious that you writhe beneath him.

His fingers slide down your stomach, dipping between your thighs and rubbing at your clit. The touch is somehow gentle despite the complete and total hunger in his eyes, but it has you whining nonetheless. Every place he touches you, which is nearly everywhere, stings so delightfully that your eyes are already rolling back.

But you can’t wait. You can’t. Your body is starved, rabid, and you know what you need.

“Ssssugu… please…” your words are hardly above a whisper, barely a breath, but your alpha still hears you, still knows what you want, what you need.

“I got you, baby… shhhhh…” He gives a final lick to your scent gland before he’s leaning back on his knees, parting your thighs wide, exposing your leaking cunt. You can feel a puddle of slick beneath your ass, your hole clenching desperately around nothing, aching to be filled.

Warm hands slide up your skin and settle on your hips, tugging you a little further down the bed. You whimper, but don’t have time to say anything before you feel him slipping through your folds. A glance down reveals his weeping tip, achingly flushed, bumping and rubbing against your clit. When did his pants come off? You don’t know, you don’t care, all that matters is that the sight steals your breath away.

“Gonna knot you good, princess.”

You nod, wanting nothing more than for him to make good on his promise. You claw and grip at his arms, chanting his name endlessly. His chest rumbles again and your thighs part further on instinct. Finally, he gives you what you want. You feel him pressing in, fat tip stretching you wide. One of his hands moves to press down on your tummy and the combination has tears pooling in your eyes.

He slides in slowly. With every inch you think he must be done, that you can’t take any more. But you can, and you do. When he’s finally fully in your jaw is hanging open in ecstasy and your eyes are rolled back in your skull. His fingers brush your clit and your hips jerk.

“That’s it. So good, baby. So fucking good.”

Your tears flood over, racing down your cheeks. He’s over you again, loose strands of black hair brushing your skin and forcing a whimper from your throat. He licks away your tears, lapping at your cheeks like you’re a fucking lollipop. His hips start thrusting in time with his licks, and it’s more than you can handle. Your thighs tremble and suddenly you’re begging. Pleading, whining, screaming for more. He gives it to you. One hand finds yours, twining your fingers together as he pounds into you so hard he’s rattling your skull. He’s licking at your scent gland again, driving you further and further toward a cliff you’re afraid to fall from. You think this orgasm might shatter you, might break you so thoroughly you’ll never be put back together again. You can feel it tightening at your core with each thrust, each lick, each kiss.

“Fuck,” you hear him growl and whimper at the sound of his voice so close to your ear. “‘M gonna bite you, princess. Gonna mark you up and knot you so good you’ll see fucking stars.” You pant beneath him, unable to word how excited you are by his words, how deliciously they roll across your skin and seep into your spine. “Tell me you didn’t take your pill, baby. Tell me I can breed this pussy full and it won’t go to waste.” He’s not talking about your suppressants you know, but rather the contraceptives you take in tandem with them. Of course you took it, but suddenly something makes you wish you hadn't. “‘M gonna flush ‘em down the fucking toilet. Never letting you take that shit again.”

The primal part of you surges forward at the idea. It chants deep in your mind. Yes, yes, yes…

“Suguuu… please…” It seems like those are the only words your tongue can form.

His lips press to yours, shushing you. “Shhh, baby. Don’ worry. I got you.” He licks across your cheek and down across your jaw until he finds your scent gland again. His thrusts pick up again and you think you might pass out from how good you feel, from how tight your muscles are coiling. You can feel his knot pulsing inside you, preparing to fill you to the brim. You’ve never felt more ready for anything.

“Sugu–”

And it’s at that moment that he makes good on his promise. His teeth sink into your neck and you feel your bond snap taut like a string, pulsing with the closeness of your connection. It’s pure ecstasy. Suguru’s knot swells, notching tightly inside you and when you feel his cum pulsing into your womb it’s all too much. You think you must be screaming from the pleasure but you only hear the ringing in your ears as your orgasm washes over you. Your muscles clench, your toes curl, your back arches, you see those stars Suguru promised. Heat tingles through your limbs and down your spine and you think you’ve probably just melted into the mattress. But you haven’t, and when your vision returns, you’re panting and staring at the ceiling.

Suguru is above you and you can feel him still cumming, still releasing rope after rope of thick, hot cum into you. The sensation makes you groan and he laps at your neck, cleaning up the blood from the new mark he’s just given you. Your consciousness trickles back in, the primal piece of you partially sated for the time being. You remember the context of your situation, why you’re here and not at work, what you’re doing. You’re puzzled by why you’d been so panicked by the idea of a heat before. How could you have been so reluctant, so scared, when nothing has ever felt this right?

Suguru is peppering you with kisses now, pulling you tight to his chest and rolling you both onto your sides where you’ll stay until his knot softens.

“Sleep, princess,” he says and he uses that tone that always compels you to listen, to please. You happily do as he says and when your eyes drift shut it’s not long before you’re lost to a world of comfortable darkness.

You wake to the throbbing again. All of the pent up need Suguru had sated has returned with a vengeance. You need him again, but it appears he already knows that.

You feel him between your legs, his hair fully loose now and tickling the insides of your thighs. He’s eating you out, slurping up the cum that’s leaking down your thighs and spitting it back onto your cunt. It’s filthy, disgusting, and you love it.

“Sugu–” you gasp and your hips buck. His eyes lock with yours and the smile he gives you nearly makes you come on the spot. He holds your gaze as he licks one last long stripe over your folds. You whimper and clench around nothing. Empty, empty, empty…

“Sorry, baby,” he whispers against your skin. He’s kissing his way up your body now, leaving little circles of spit that cool when they touch the air and make you shiver. “‘Y smelled so good…”

You whine and whimper, clawing at his back and leaving scratches you think might draw blood. You’re too worried about getting him inside of you to check.

You’re gasping like you’ve never had a breath of air in your life, like you’ve drowned and every touch he gives you fills your lungs with much-needed oxygen. His hands rub gently at your waist, but it’s not enough. You want him to wreck you, ruin you. You say as much.

“M-more…” you beg and when he hums against your neck you squirm desperately. Warm hands dig into your flesh and suddenly you find yourself flipped onto your stomach. You feel Suguru behind you, pushing your thighs apart with his knees. His hands find your hips again and lift, propping you up with your face still pressed to the pillows. When you whimper he runs a soothing hand up and down your spine.

“‘S okay, baby. Relax. Lemme take care ‘ve you.”

Yes, yes, yes, you think. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted anything more. His fingers dig into your skin, holding you still when he feeds his dick into you, one inch at a time. You cry out, tearing at the sheets and begging for more, even when you already feel like you’re splitting in half. When he’s finally seated inside you he drapes himself over your back, brushing your hair over one shoulder to expose your neck. He leans in to lick you again, thrusting sharply the moment his tongue brushes your skin. You wail, pressing your face to the sheets and attempting to rock yourself back against him. One of his hands smooths over the flesh of your ass as he sets a pace, one that makes you bite down on a pillow to muffle your screams.

“No.” Suguru uses that tone that makes you listen, that one that calls instinctively to the omega inside you, that urges you to please. He reaches for your pillow, tossing it aside and letting his hand curl around your throat as he continues to fuck you, letting his fingers feel the vibrations of every noise you make. “Let me hear you, baby. Always let me hear you.”

You nod, eager to make him happy, eager to do as he says. You don’t dare restrain a single sound, eyes rolling back. The angle he has you at has your thighs trembling. He’s so deep, so close. You feel his heartbeat against your back, feel his tongue on your skin, his hand on your throat, his cock at your cervix.

When he groans, you groan with him, feeling his dick pulse inside you, his knot beginning to swell. You need it, need it so bad you can hardly stand it.

“P-please, please, please–”

He swells inside you, locking your bodies together as his orgasm hits. It’s all you need to find your own. You wail into the mattress, cunt clenching and legs trembling until you collapse, flattening against the beg. Suguru follows you down, wrapping his arms around your waist and whispering in your ear.

“Take it all, baby. Good girl. Take it all…”

You nod, not even sure what you’re agreeing to. All you can feel is his cum flooding your insides, pulsing and pumping so deep into you that you swear your tummy is swelling with the sheer amount of it. Still, your body wants more, clenching and milking him for every last drop, just like he asked.

When you both come down from your orgasms he pulls you into his chest once again, whispering promises of protection and love that lull you into a trance-like state of happiness. When you fall asleep again, he’s chanting a word that your omega repeats right back to him. “Mine, mine, mine.”

When you wake again it’s to the sound of Geto staying true to his word and flushing every last birth control pill you have straight down the toilet. Your omega surges at the idea, but one mewl from you and he’s back in your arms, like you’re somehow the one in charge, not him. With every passing moment, you being to think that might be true- that perhaps a heat does not makes you as weak as you thought. Your alpha submits as much to you as you submit to him.

The week is spent in a frenzy. You do not measure by the numbers on the clock or where the sun is in the sky, rather you know time only as how long it’s been since Suguru’s been locked inside you. If it were up to you, you’d never stop, but Geto forces you to sleep, to eat, to bathe. Of course, he’s never far away when you’re following his instructions and you usually get a kiss and his knot as a reward for being such a good girl.

It’s ten days later when your heat finally starts to wane. It feels as though every inch of you is covered in him. Bites, hickies, kisses, cum… no part of you has been left untouched. Suguru has had you everywhere. The bed, the shower, the bath, the kitchen. Every surface in the whole apartment reeks of sex and slick. He never keeps you too far from the bedroom, though, where you’ve piled up mountains of his shirts and sheets. Anything that smells like him, anything that can keep you tethered in those brief moments when Suguru goes to fetch you food or water or run you a bath. He takes care of you, just like he promised.

When you wake completely clear-headed for the first time in well over a week, it’s to Suguru’s arms and lips. He’s got you all wrapped up in him, his arms locked around your waist almost like he expects you to bolt. You almost do when everything comes flooding back to you, this time with a completely clear conscience. But then he kisses your neck and whispers a delightful little, “welcome back, baby” against your neck and suddenly you’re realizing how… revitalized you feel, like a part of you has finally been properly satisfied after years of waiting. You’d always hated this, always hated the part of you that begged and cowered, hated heats- but maybe with Suguru… they really weren’t all that bad.

taglist (DM me to be added!): @lacheri, @la-undercover-latina

link: alpha!gojo fic

please consider leaving a comment, sending in an ask, or reblogging! interacting with authors is the best way to support them! thanks for reading ♡

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goldenhourology · 4 months ago

Text

SLACKING OFF.

pairing: jeon wonwoo x f!reader

genre: smut, angst, fluff, coworkers to lovers, friends to lovers

summary: being technologically averse, yet a complete control freak to your core, you tend to annoy senior IT specialist, jeon wonwoo, to no end. but after an apology brings you two closer together, wonwoo finds himself reaching out to you more often than not. on and off slack. despite what you two had originally perceived, you find yourself thrown into feelings that neither of you could've ever prepared for.

warnings: handjobs, fingering, oral (f!recieving), unprotected sex, missionary position, belly bulge, grinding, praise, wonwoo is a service top!!, multiple sex scenes, jerking it in an corporate office bathroom lol, drunk horniness, miscommunication, reader is learning how to open up<3, mutual pining. nsfw (minors / ageless blogs dni).

word count: 19.2k

note: hello new ppl, welcome to the first goldenhourology one shot ✨ I've written things in the past, but this is my first really long one shot. the longer it got, the more I stressed out lol. but I've seen a lot of people do this 20k word one shots, so I thought I'd try my hand at it! also idk much about tech, so if I got anything wrong in this, pls ignore it. thank you to anyone who gives this a read!!

in rotation: picture you, chappell roan / dress, taylor swift / valentine, laufey / diamond boy, sza

Some said your late 20s were the last few years of fun before you fully allowed yourself to be an adult, so why were you always drowning in work?

It didn’t help that you were an executive assistant in one of the biggest software companies in the U.S. When you took the job, surely, you should’ve known that you’d be signing up for an exorbitant amount of work, ranging from invoice management, planning travel for your boss, to even research for senior managers. Despite the constant stress you were under, you liked this job. You liked the trust that your boss had in you. You liked that they let you be independent and figure things out on your own.

And when you couldn’t … you simply contacted IT.

It helped that a senior IT specialist sat right across from your cubicle.

Jeon Wonwoo wasn’t the most talkative cubicle buddy, nor was he the most pleasant. He did his best to give you a smile every once in a while, but he had to fight the urge to throw his head in his hands whenever you send him a message on Slack. You didn’t typically need help with anything, except in the area of tech. You were so organized and incredibly smart – it didn’t take an idiot to see that – but god forbid, sometimes … you could be so technologically averse.

Maybe he just had too many years of schooling under his belt – he was 28 now with both a Bachelors and Masters in Software Engineering – but you surprised him with some of your requests. Sometimes, you’d delete files by accident, need to renew your subscription to important apps, even locked yourself out of your own computer once. He had interns underneath him that could be available to help you, but you had consistently messaged him. And he sat directly across from you. No matter what, it was always going to be Wonwoo that had to help you. Fate had made sure of that.

There were times that you realized you were bothering him. Either you heard him curse from behind his extremely large monitor or he adjusted his glasses so much that you thought he might break them in half. And to be honest, you liked being in control of your own work, so you’d try to find a solution. Typically, solving your own tech problems left your computer in more disarray.

And there was Wonwoo to save the day yet again.

You [10:58 AM]: Morning, Wonwoo!

You [10:58 AM]: I screwed up

You [10:59 AM]: Boss sent me some documents that were password protected, but he’s away for the next two days and not answering his phone

You [10:59 AM]: So I might’ve downloaded some software to help me unlock it and I think it’s attempting to hack my email as we speak

You [11:01 AM]: I’m so so sorry! I didn’t want to bother you

Jeon Wonwoo [11:01 AM]: I’ll be right over.

Luckily for you, Wonwoo was able to fix the problem and stop your email from getting hacked. Whoever was the owner of that virus-filled program you tried to download didn’t gain access to those password-protected documents before Wonwoo secured your computer. But it was close. Too close.

Not only that, but he had a multitude of other projects today. He had to train two new interns … have one of those annual performance reviews with the head of IT … change over a dozen new passwords for people … and then he found out that they’re changing servers. Which meant everything backed up on their former server had to be transferred over to the new one. Fucking great.

He wasn’t sure how many times he sighed today, but it had to be over a hundred. When he couldn’t stand to be sitting anymore, he stood up and paced around the third floor of the building. Today felt like the longest day of his life. And there was a mustard stain on his green sweater vest. And he got a shitty haircut a few days ago. And he probably needed new glasses because he was getting headaches.

It was time for a coffee. As well as a day off.

Coincidentally, you were also headed to the break room that afternoon in need of a green tea. You were about to walk in when you heard your cubicle mate letting out a frustrated breath while talking to another IT specialist. He was clearly fed up about something, or maybe just tired of this day. You hid next to the doorframe, and just when you thought it was safe to step out, you heard your name fall from his lips.

“I don’t understand how she does it,” Wonwoo complained, hands smacking against his sides. “Seriously, it’s mind boggling. I’m pretty sure she has her Masters in Business Administration, but she does this shit that just makes me … Oh my god, she literally tried to download some faulty software off the internet today, instead of just asking me or someone else for help.”

“Oh, yeah, everyone wants to turn to you when you got that attitude, man,” someone – Lee Seokmin, maybe? – joked.

“You get what a mean.” Wonwoo watched the first couple drips of shitty office coffee fill his cup. “I was able to save her computer, yeah, but it would be nice to avoid an emergency for a day.”

Seokmin slapped him on the back. “The joys of working in IT.”

You huffed, stalking away from the break room and back to your desk. There was only so much office gossip you could take, especially when it involved you. As soon as you sat down, you finished typing up an email at the loudest volume possible, your fingers basically punching themselves into the keys. You heard Wonwoo slide back into his desk chair, the fresh smell of burnt coffee wafting across to you, and he didn’t say a thing. Not that he would ever know you had eavesdropped. But not a “hello” or “how has computer been after this morning?” He went back to work, burning his tongue on the overly hot liquid.

Maybe Wonwoo was right; maybe you did need to just stop overthinking and ask for help instead of figuring stuff out on your own. Or maybe this asshole needed an attitude check.

You decided to not bother him for the rest of the week, complaining to your friends that Friday night about your shithead of a coworker. They said he might be looking out for you in his own fucked up way. You said he might just be an asshole.

Come Monday morning, you had realized your ignoring hadn’t effected him at all. He still sent you the same small smile as he walked in and sat down across from you. Could he really not see how pissed you are, or had the facade you’d crafted for so long as the perfect corporate employee work too well?

You should just be upfront with him, take control of the situation. Like always.

You [9:44 AM]: I heard you in the break room a few days ago.

You [9:44 AM]: I just didn’t want to bother you. That’s why I had tried to figure out the issue on my own. Didn’t realize that was a crime

Jeon Wonwoo [9:46 AM]: Crap.

Jeon Wonwoo [9:46 AM]: You weren’t supposed to hear that.

You [9:47 AM]: Well, I did

Jeon Wonwoo [9:50 AM]: Listen.

Jeon Wonwoo [9:50 AM]: Not that it excuses anything, but there’s so much going on at work. It wasn’t all about you. I was complaining just to complain and I didn’t mean any of it.

Jeon Wonwoo [9:50 AM]: I’m sorry.

You [9:51 AM]: Wow

Jeon Wonwoo [9:51 AM]: What?

You [9:51 AM]: You’ve never come across as someone who can apologize well

Jeon Wonwoo [9:52 AM]: Are you sure you aren’t projecting right now? We sit across from each other. I’ve seen how stubborn you are.

You [9:53 AM]: I thought you were apologizing to me????

Jeon Wonwoo [9:56 AM]: I’m sorry. Again.

You [10:01 AM]: Okay, you’re forgiven

Jeon Wonwoo [10:09 AM]: Can I make it up to you with a coffee?

You didn’t go out on dates. The last one you went on was … years ago, probably in undergrad. Once you go for your Masters, all energy to date goes out the window.

Not that this was a date. This certainly was not a date.

This was an apology coffee after work, since the two of you seemed to have an affinity for caffeine at late hours.

Even if, per chance, he thought this was a date … you’d eventually have to let him down easy. It probably wasn’t in your best interest to date someone like Jeon Wonwoo, but you’d also closed yourself off from love for far too long. It wasn’t that you didn’t get lonely – you did, very much, especially on late nights where it was just you and your favorite vibrator – but it was just … scary. Opening yourself up. Losing just a small semblance of control. You weren’t even sure you could physically allow yourself to do that after being alone for so long.

Your heart had been tucked away so many years ago, locked inside a box, and then in another box, and so on. With the final lock being so complicated that only someone who knew the last four of your social security number could answer. No one was opening up that box. Your heart was safe from the outside world.

You were independent, reliant on only yourself, and you liked it that way.

Once he had gotten both your coffees, he sat down next to you at a hightop table, folding his winter coat over the back of his chair. He had managed to remember your latte order and it tasted perfect. Your eyes flitted up, ogling him for a moment. When you’re not under the fluorescent lights of the office, Wonwoo was … attractive. To say the least. Maybe he always had been and you were too blind to see it. Maybe his face was perpetually hidden by his monitor.

His hair was tousled in the way that it looked effortless, even if he hadn’t brushed it after rolling out of bed. He had a tendency to wear sweater vests with white t-shirts underneath, or button-downs with jeans. But it was only when he showed off his forearms that you realized he was surprisingly built underneath his oversized clothes. He was tall and his shoulders were broad. You liked his glasses too; they always sat on the edge of his nose. A thin line was etched into both lenses, suggesting age, but they framed his face well.

Yeah, you thought to yourself, he is handsome.

“Why are you staring at me?” He asked, knocking you out of your stupor.

You blinked and looked down at your coffee, removing the lid. “Oh, I … uh … good question.”

“Listen,” he started, eyes flickering to his hands, “I’m really sorry about what I said –”

“You don’t have to keep apologizing.”

“– And I understand if you want to go to HR about this –”

You shook your head. “Wait, what? Why would I do that?”

He glanced around, until finally, his eyes were on you again. And suddenly, you were wondering if his eyes were dark brown or the color of cinnamon. “Isn’t that what any rational person would do?”

He had you stumped there. If this were a different situation … you probably would do that. “I’m not going to tell HR about this, Wonwoo. You apologized and said you didn’t mean it. I have to trust that.” And you didn’t trust lightly – hardly at all – but something about Wonwoo made you feel like it could be easy with him.

“We all have shit days,” you added, taking a sip of the scalding hot latte. “You have a ton of stuff on your plate. Doesn’t give you an excuse for what you did, but we all say things in the heat of the moment that we don’t mean. I have so many things to organize throughout the day, and sometimes it gets the better of me. Remember when I had book that last minute trip for our CEO and I was on the phone for hours with Delta and Suzanne in finance had the nerve to start bothering me about some invoice? I lost it on her for a straight minute.”

“Oh, my god, yeah,” he chuckled, pinching the bridge of his nose as the memory resurfaced. “Her eyes almost came out of her skull at your reaction. To be fair … Suzanne needs to be knocked down a peg sometimes. She always blames IT when she can’t get into her email, but it’s because she’s constantly typing her password with one letter off.”

You couldn’t help but giggle. Your hand hit the tabletop a few times as you let your workplace personality fade in front of your coworker. “Those new IT interns don’t know what’s coming once Suzanne comes for them,” you joked.

“The IT interns don’t know anything. Period.” He jabbed his finger onto the table. “I mean, they’re interns, but it takes so much time to train them. If I have to teach them JavaScript one more time …”

“Say it, Jeon Wonwoo,” you egged him on, a chuckle filtering at the end. “What will happen if you have to teach those good for nothing interns JavaScript?”

A slow smile made it’s way onto Wonwoo’s face, and … damn, you were actually a really cool person. “Well,” he cleared his throat, “I’ll tell you what will happen …”

Jeon Wonwoo [12:13 PM]: Did you bring lunch today?

Jeon Wonwoo [12:13 PM]: I just found this new cafe down the street and was thinking about grabbing something there in a few. Did you wanna come?

You [12:14 PM]: Do you think they have a chicken salad sandwich on the menu

Jeon Wonwoo [12:15 PM]: I can only assume so?

You [12:15 PM]: SOLD

You both go out for more coffees, before and after work. You found yourself excited to wake up early, to meet up with Wonwoo at the coffee shop located in the lobby of your work building. Always getting there before him, you typically ordered two coffees – remembering his order to a T – and when he walked in five minutes late, he promised to buy the next round. You never let him.

You began planning lunches over Slack, discussing what was on special at that cafe he found last month. In fact, you two talked most of the day on Slack. A message from you had once gotten on his nerves, and now … he was eager for it. Eager to hear your thoughts throughout the day, excited to talk about what new dumb question an intern asked him today or to see more pictures of your grandma’s cats.

And Wonwoo … Wonwoo was easier to get along with than you thought. You just had to peel back the layers before he finally got comfortable, and honestly, you could relate. To be fair, you had a few more layers than he did, but he was slowly learning that you were more than what he perceived. After that first coffee, he realized how funny you were, and then a couple lunches later, he learned you were an avid romance and thriller reader – and nothing in between. It wasn’t until last week that he finally cracked you open enough to learn about your love for Elder Scrolls Online. He was sure you were joking at first, but when you clarified how serious you were, he almost fell off his chair.

“I’m not shocked that you play it,” he said over coffee one morning. “What I’m shocked at is that you’d rather play Elder Scrolls Online and not Skyrim.”

“Of course, you would say that,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “I don’t really have an interest in the game universe. I started playing Elder Scrolls Online to relieve stress while applying to colleges, and then I just … didn’t stop.” You shrugged.

Much to his own surprise – even with your take on Skyrim – Wonwoo thoroughly enjoyed your company. It was insane that you both had spent almost two years sitting across from each other before realizing how much you liked each other. Words always left unsaid. Eyes staying glued to computers. It had been a routine for you both that you had never strayed from – until now. So many tech requests over Slack … and now he was actively looking forward to work everyday. To seeing you. To talking with you.

You.

Jeon Wonwoo realized how much he liked stockings. Specifically, he liked the way you looked in them.

And that’s when things got dangerous.

He started to notice the days you would wear them, and then concluded which day you did laundry. You liked wearing blouses with a pencil skirt and stockings on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays. Those were now his favorite days.

Wednesdays you’d wear dress pants and maybe a sweater, whereas on “Casual Fridays,” you were clad in a t-shirt with a cardigan layered and jeans. You always looked nice at the office, but those stocking days … they were getting to him.

Sometimes, he’d watch the way you walked away from your desk – either to the Boss’ office or to the finance department – and he couldn’t help but let his eyes trail down your legs. You had these stockings that had a slight tear in the back, and he wondered if you realized, or was he just too much of a perverted loser to be the first person to notice? He wanted to purchase a new pair for you. He wanted to replace all your stockings and buy you enough that you could wear them with a skirt everyday, just so he could see you in them.

Maybe he was a loser.

You looked up at him, even in heels, and you had this way of smiling at him that left him questioning why you liked hanging out with him in the first place. His personality couldn’t be that charming to warrant your attention. But you were warm – even when your hands were perpetually cold – and kind, never straying once he was in front of you. And you had this lip gloss that stained your lips magenta and made them shine. Even in the dim fluorescent lights. When his chair turned just slightly and he let his eyes glaze over you, one finger rubbing at his top lip, he couldn’t help but be curious if the gloss had a flavor to it … and then, he’d get distracted by your legs again. And your blouse, and your hair.

Don’t even get him started on the way you smelled.

Maybe he was a loser. No, he was most definitely a loser.

It was a Thursday night. Almost 7 PM and you were still at the office. You had plans to go out tonight to celebrate your friend’s new job, but you ended up having to cancel when the Boss placed a stack of paperwork on your desk before leaving the building at promptly 6 o’clock. Why he couldn’t have given you all these invoices and memos hours ago was beyond you, but you weren’t even halfway through this stack and the janitor was now mopping beside you.

When a Slack notification appeared on the side of your monitor, you didn’t even read it before spinning around in your chair. There Wonwoo was, leaning back in his own chair while a progress window ticked on one of his dual monitors. You raised a brow. “I didn’t even hear you over there,” you commented. “Why are you still here?”

“A month or so ago, the IT head told me that we’d soon be transitioning servers, so all of our backups and data need to be transferred over to this new server.” He explained, adjusting his glasses and glancing over at the progress window. It changed from 23% to 24% finished. “Someone had to be the lucky person to stay after hours and make sure it all went smoothly.”

You twirled a pen in your two fingers and crossed your legs. “Oh, that sucks.” Your skirt hiked up a little, and just that small flash of exposed skin had Wonwoo averting his eyes.

“Yeah,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’m assuming you’re still here because of that.” He nodded towards the pile of paper.

“No, no, obviously I love being here after hours with you,” you replied, sarcasm dripping from your tone, but it still ignited a short spark of hope within him. (Wonwoo, can you chill the fuck out? He chastised.) “You know the Boss has a penchant for letting invoices pile up. He just so happened to let that pile end up on my desk before he left today. And some of these needed to be filled out …” Your eyes skimmed the first paper on your desk. “Oh, yesterday!”

Wonwoo offered to help you while also keeping watch of his computer – 28% finished – but you insisted you could handle it. “I already bother you enough during work hours,” you said before turning back to your desk. He knew by now that you were simply too stubborn to give up control of the project. Once you had started it yourself, you needed to see it through. He wasn’t sure if you two were close enough that he could be completely honest, that he could tell you that it was fine to let go this independence that you kept on a tight leash. He was willing to help. (God, was he willing.)

But he chocked it up to telling you once that you were “so fucking stubborn.”

Your reply had come in the form of a swift kick to his knee.

Wonwoo glanced at his monitor. 67% finished.

It was 10 PM and you were just about finished with the paperwork, but you were running on fumes. Just a few memos left and you’d be done. To get you through the next hour, you needed something. So you headed to the break room, suddenly craving some burnt workplace coffee. (What was it about this coffee maker that gave it such a distinct burnt flavor? You’d never know.) After placing the pod of coffee grounds in the slot and filling the water, you pressed the start button, turning around with a huff to see Wonwoo striding into the break room. A crushed, styrofoam coffee cup was clutched in his large hand before he tossed it in the barrel beside you.

“How’s your transfer going?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest. Coffee had started to pour from the machine and into your cup.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s at 88% now. Hopefully should be done in the next hour.”

“Me too, if all goes well.” A sigh escaped your lips. “I still have a few more papers to fill out. Shouldn’t take me more than an hour, but I haven’t looked through them all yet.”

Wonwoo stepped forward, reaching in the direction of the styrofoam cups. “If you had let me help you –”

You tried sidestepping out of the way to give him some room, but his hand brushed against your arm anyway. Your chin tilted up as your eyes met his, back pressing against the counter. “It wouldn’t have helped,” you finished for him.

His arm paused mid-air, and he looked down at you. Eyes narrowing, he replied, “You’re one of the most stubborn people I’ve ever met. You have this desperate need to be in control of everything.”

“And why is that a bad thing?” Your tone took a hard edge. The last thing you wanted right now was to put effort into arguing, but you were tired and already on the edge of a breakdown. “I’ve relied on myself for as long as I can remember. I like being in control. I like being stubborn. If I didn’t do most things myself –”

“You ask me to fix something on your computer at least once a day.”

“That’s different.”

“You’re right,” he agreed, and you noticed then just how close he was. Your chests were practically touching. “Sometimes you do try to figure things out yourself and almost break your hard drive.”

His progress window was probably at 93% finished now. He should head back to his desk, but his feet stayed planted right where they were.

“Why does it matter?” You exhaled loud, your hands slapping against your hips. “Do you want an award or something? You have your way of doing things, and I have mine. I’m not perfect, but I … I like things the way they are.” Change is scary, you thought to yourself, but didn’t dare voice it out loud.

He was so close that he could smell your perfume. The scent of lavender mixed with orange blossoms and vanilla filled his nostrils, swirling around his brain. He could get addicted to this smell, to you. Maybe he already was. When his eyes roamed down to your legs and he saw his favorite pair of stockings on you, he damn near collapsed. In fact, he hadn’t even realized the soft groan had left his lips until your gaze found his, your pretty irises growing wide.

You were just so … captivating.

His hands were on both sides of you, pressing your back further into the counter. Your black coffee steaming and fully abandoned in the coffee machine. He was holding himself back, his knuckles going white with restraint. But he wasn’t like you. He could only keep himself in control for so long. And with you here right now, your perfume surrounding him, your stockings-clad thigh brushing against his leg, your a hand placed on his chest … he was a goner.

“Wonwoo,” you whispered, palm still resting on his shirt, “we …”

When your voice trailed off, Wonwoo’s instincts got the better of him. “Please, just …” One hand came up to smooth against your cheek, and he was almost out of breath as he pulled your face to his. “Let me do this.”

He gave you enough time to shove him back, to yell at him, to tell him you didn’t like him in that way. But your neck was craning towards his, and he took that as a sign to crash his lips onto yours. They were softer than he expected, and the taste … your gloss tasted like – well, like nothing. But if he pretended, he could’ve sworn there was a slight cherry aftertaste. His glasses bumped into your nose, but he’d been too overwhelmed to remember to take them off. Mouth moving against yours, his hips crammed you more against the counter, hard enough to leave a bruise on your spine. You didn’t care though. His shoulders were so wide that they shielded you, inviting your body into his, and your fingers fisted into his button-up. Tongues tangled, eager to taste more and more of each other.

Wonwoo could kiss you forever. You didn’t want him to stop.

But all good things must end. Because when he instinctively placed his leg between yours, he knew this was going too far. Especially because you two were still at work. In the break room.

He instantly removed his leg, his lips breaking from yours. Your eyes connected, the room filled with only the sounds of heavy breathing, before you wiped a trail of spit from your chin.

Wonwoo’s head spun behind him. Thank god, there was no CCTV camera by the coffee maker.

Jeon Wonwoo [9:09 AM]: Good morning.

Jeon Wonwoo [9:09 AM]: I shouldn’t have done that last night.

Jeon Wonwoo [9:10 AM]: Still friends?

You [9:14 AM]: We probably shouldn’t be talking about this on Slack

You [9:15 AM]: Here’s my number: 855-777-0821

You [9:18 AM]: But yes friends :D

Wonwoo did not want to be just friends. But he was utterly terrified of what you would say if he voiced that. You had kissed him back, yes, but … hadn’t you agreed to be friends far too quickly? You had both hung out post-kiss – he liked to call this period of time A.T.K. (after the kiss) – and you didn’t seem to be ruminating on it like he was. Of course, he didn’t know what you were thinking, and you could be so hard to read sometimes when your layers weren’t stripped back enough. But …

Could it really have meant nothing to you?

If that were the case, he didn’t know how it was possible for you. He couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss even if he tried. When he saw you the next day – Friday, January 9, A.T.K. – the first thing he noticed was your lip gloss and all he wanted was to have it smeared over his mouth again. He noticed the way your hair fell over your shoulder, remembering how soft the strands felt when his fingers had slipped between them. He noticed that you were wearing those jeans that hugged your ass just right, and – god, now he was wishing that he had touched more than just your cheek. Wonwoo wanted to touch you everywhere. And vice versa. He didn’t care if your hands were constantly freezing or if they were dry during the winter. He wanted you to touch him however you pleased. He wanted to grab you and kiss you and hold those cold hands in his warm ones –

Oh, my god. He had a boner. At work. Just the mere memory of a kiss had him shifting himself in his pants underneath his desk, hoping no one noticed.

Eventually, he stood up, trying to keep a casual hand over the bulge in his pants as he fast walked to the bathroom. Nobody batted an eye, but you did steal a glance over at him once his back was turned. Your brow raised at the way he was practically sprinting for the elevator, not realizing that he was heading for the second floor restrooms. He must be excited for something. Probably a package, you thought before turning back to your computer.

Wonwoo felt like he could finally breathe once he was inside a stall. He rested his head against the cool tile wall, feeling the ache start to settle in his groin. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this way. What 28-year-old gets a boner from a kiss? You had him acting like a goddamn teenager.

What had you done to him? Just one kiss and he was completely under your spell.

(Or maybe he’d been this way all along.)

His fingers fumbled with the zipper on his jeans as he finally pulled himself out of his jeans, stroking from base to tip. Thankfully, no one was in the bathroom. He couldn’t believe his life had come to this. The last thing he ever wanted was to be that guy who jacked off in the bathroom. But you had to wear those goddamn jeans –

Wonwoo wasn’t good at hiding his feelings, but he was doing a pretty good job even as this was killing him inside. He wasn’t like you; he found it hard to restrain himself, to ignore everything that was bubbling up inside him. He could feel himself cracking. What would be the thing that finally broke him?

The answer was simple: alcohol.

Lee Seokmin [11:26 AM]: Dude lol. Why’d you run away from your desk like that

Lee Seokmin [11:26 AM]: I think you could win the Olympics with that kind of sprint!

Jeon Wonwoo [11:39 AM]: Don’t ask.

Lee Seokmin [11:40 AM]: Alrighty then ;)

Lee Seokmin [11:41 AM]: On another note … you free next Thursday? My buddy in the marketing department, Josh, finally has a night off from his kid so we were thinking of getting a group together for drinks after work. Interested?

The last thing you ever expected was to be invited to drinks with Seokmin and some of the managers in marketing, but Wonwoo said you should come. “In fact,” he had clarified, “you should come so I don’t have to deal with DK’s drunk antics all night.” Who were you to deprive him of your presence when he was that desperate? Plus, there was a nice girl in marketing that was also invited; maybe tonight was the night to befriend her.

But the marketing people knew how to party. You were only halfway through your second beer whereas the rest of your group was on their fourth. And three tequila shots deep. Wonwoo, seemingly, had an affinity for tequila, unlike yourself. He was able to throw them back like it was nothing; he didn’t even need a chaser. When Seokmin had requested they all get a fourth, he was met with a round of cheers, and even Wonwoo – quiet, introverted Wonwoo – threw his hands up with excitement. You placed a hand on his shoulder, whispering in his ear, “Are you sure about that?”

Wonwoo felt his whole body freeze when your hot breath reached his ear. A pale, pink flush appeared on his cheeks, but you chocked it up to how drunk he was. Eventually, he waved away your worry with his hand. “I’m fiiiiiiiiine. Hey, how about I get you another beer?”

“Are you even coherent enough to get me another –”

“HEY! Bartender! Can I get one more of these?!” He shouted, waving your empty glass in the air. “Oh, and more tequila!”

Seokmin slapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder, laughing along with him. As you made friends with the rest of the marketing department, you found yourself glancing at Wonwoo every so often. His cheeks were so rosy now, and his glasses kept slipping down his nose. To be fair though, everyone in this dive bar seemed to be in the same state of mind. Seokmin was singing along to the Sabrina Carpenter song blasting through the speakers. Josh was so drunk that he was crying about how much he loved his friends. They had even gotten Suzanne in finance to come out, and she was making friends with everyone for once. And Wonwoo … oh, god, Wonwoo’s head was now on the bar top and he was closing his eyes –

You abandoned your beer and walked over to your friend, shaking his shoulders. His eyes instantly opened, expecting to see Seokmin, but when his gaze met yours, he instantly felt all warm and fuzzy. “Okay,” you said, trying your best to hoist this 6 foot man off the barstool, “you’ve had enough. I’m taking you home.”

It was like pulling teeth to get him to tell you his address, but you guessed you shouldn’t be surprised when the man on your arm was blackout drunk. After flagging a taxi, you shoved him in the seat next to you and rubbed your hands together to get them warm. Wonwoo’s head was on your shoulder the second you sat down, his eyes fluttering closed as the taxi sped off into the night. You watched his fingers twitch on his thigh as he whispered sleepily, “I think my family would really like you.”

“Is that so?” You chuckled, squeezing his arm for reassurance, but little did you know just how much your touch effected him. “Why’s that?”

“Because you’re you,” he replied, and then yawned. “Only you and Mingyu would do this for me.”

Your brow furrowed. “Who’s Mingyu?”

The taxi pulled up to a brick apartment building then, and your cold fingers struggled to get cash out from your pocket while Wonwoo was practically laying on top of you. Finally, you did your best to haul him out of the seat, thanking the taxi driver before gathering an arm around Wonwoo’s shoulders. The building was definitely old with vines of ivy crawling up one side. There was a dead tree with snow covering it’s branches directly by the door, spilling snowflakes on your head as you struggled to input the code Wonwoo managed to remember. And then, you were pulling him up two flights of stairs, which took far longer than you estimated. You had basically ripped his keys from his hand once you reached his apartment and continued to drag him inside, laying him on the old couch that was conveniently right near the door.

Wonwoo grumbled as soon as his head hit the armrest, and he almost fell off the couch if it weren’t for you catching him and rolling him back onto the cushion. “I’m going to go get you a glass of water,” you said, quickly rushing off to his kitchen. “Please, for the love of god, don’t fall off the couch again.”

He whined for you to come back, but you pretended you didn’t hear it, because if you did, you’d have to reckon with the tingle that bloomed between your legs at the sound of his desperation.

The entrance of his kitchen was right in front of a small hallway that sectioned off two ways. There was a bedroom door on each side of the hall, and once you walked inside the kitchen, you found a tiny table from the 80s and the dishwasher currently running. You didn’t have time to contemplate that now, and instead pilfered through his cabinets until you found a glass and filled it with tap water. Rushing back to his side, Wonwoo was already laying halfway off the couch and you sighed.

You set the glass of water on his coffee table and lifted him back up. With a little bit of help from you, you both managed to shrug off his winter jacket and you tucked a throw blanket over him to prevent him from falling off again. A heavy exhale slipped past your lips as you knelt by his side, and you couldn’t help but reach out to pushed back his hair from his forehead. His eyes were closed, but you knew he wasn’t sleeping. You smiled to yourself.

Were coworkers supposed to show this much affection for each other?

“Wonwoo,” you said softly, and he cracked one eye open. “Do you want some water?”

He shut that eye again, grimacing at the thought of anything entering his body right now. “Ab…absolutely not.”

“It’ll make you feel better,” you persuaded, but he still shook his head. “Okay, so what do you want right now?”

His breath stilled for a moment. “Can I be honest?”

“That’s never stopped you before.”

“I …” No, he couldn’t be that honest. “I want you to … keep p–pushing back my hair. It’s … relaxing.”

You chuckled, “Okay, you got it.” Your fingers were at the crown of his head again, smoothing back the strands. You hadn’t noticed until now that he had a freckle on the left side of his forehead; maybe you’d just never been this close to notice. Well, actually, you had. There was this thing you two did called a kiss –

“If you’re going to fall asleep, I’m going to take off your glasses,” you informed him, slipping his glasses off and setting them by his glass of water. It was late, much later than you anticipated on staying out, and you both still had to go to work tomorrow.

But then his hand was grabbing your wrist, his grip surprisingly firm for how intoxicated he was. “Can I b–be honest again?” He slurred, his eyes half open to meet yours.

You sighed, placing your hand on top of his, thumb brushing over his knuckles. “Just know whatever you say will be used to make fun of you tomorrow –”

“I can’t … I haven’t …” He took a breath to formulate the words in his head. “… Stopped thinking about our kiss.”

You blinked down at him, watching the way his eyes began to close again as he relaxed into the old couch cushions. “You can’t just say shit like –”

He scoffed dramatically. “I’m noooot,” he defended, his hand slipping off your wrist to curl underneath the blanket.

“Wonwoo …” Your voice trailed off, the words dying on your tongue.

“Who the hell are you?”

You immediately got to your feet at the sound of another person’s voice behind you. Eyes growing wide, you took in the sight of the man in front of you wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, droplets of water trailing down his chiseled abdomen as he shook a smaller towel through his hair. He might’ve been taller than Wonwoo, only by a little bit, and his skin was a golden tan that reminded you of summertime even in this harsh winter. Why was Wonwoo hiding handsome men in his apartment? The man looked at you, waiting for an answer, his brows raised.

“Oh,” you cleared your throat. “Um …”

“Leave her alone, Mingyu,” Wonwoo groaned from the couch, turning away from them to lay on his side.

So this was Mingyu, you concluded. This slightly god-like dude that looked like he walked straight out of a porno was the only other person who’d help Wonwoo when he was blackout drunk. Interesting.

Mingyu raised his hand awkwardly for you to shake. “His roommate,” he clarified.

“Oh,” you replied, grasping his hand for a moment and telling him your name.

Mingyu instantly grinned, laying the small towel over his neck, holding both ends. “So you’re her.”

You blinked, not knowing how to respond to that. Perhaps there was no way to respond; the silence was comfortable enough. You decided to keep that in mind for later though.

“He’s … well, he got very drunk,” you informed Mingyu, gesturing to a now-sleeping Wonwoo with both thumbs. “I wanted to make sure he got home okay.”

Mingyu nodded, and then sighed. “I’ll take care of him. Don’t worry,” he promised, opening up the door for you. “Get home safe, okay?”

Wonwoo: Sorry about that the other night. I won’t get drunk like that again. It doesn’t happen very often

You: it’s okay! I’m used to handling drunk people

You: don’t get me wrong, I like to have my fun but it’s easier for me to take care of other people than like … be incoherent and anxious lol

Wonwoo: By the end of the night I was starting to feel that way. Not fun

You: DRINK WATER

You: your roommate is hot btw. does he always walk around without a shirt?

Wonwoo: Of course, he didn’t have a shirt on when you met him

Wonwoo: Everyone likes Mingyu

You: well, I like you [UNSENT]

The bi-annual sales meeting was started to boost morale and talk with other departments that you didn’t see as often. It was typically held at a hotel in the downtown city, with the company flying in all the sales reps from across the country. There were even a few from overseas. In reality though, this was usually the week where coworkers made mistakes. At least one person was let go after these sales meetings, and HR had their eyes peeled for an entire week.

You never made a mistake at one of these. And you didn’t expect to any time soon.

This was a week of rubbing elbows with slimy sales reps and making sure some old man hadn’t spiked your drink. For most, this was a week to slack off, but a woman working in corporate couldn’t relax in these settings. You’d been making corrections to your boss’ presentation for the entire company for what felt like forever. (Realistically, it’d been almost two weeks.) You probably went through the 50 slides at least twice as much, checking for spelling mistakes and making sure it was in the right place on your desktop. Not on some random external hard drive. Not in the trash.

But it was finally the day you’d been dreading. Presentation day, and everyone at the company was eager to hear the Boss reveal if they hit their goal for the year, amongst other things. You checked the slides another time, and then made sure no one would trip over the HDMI cord connected to the projector. The Boss gave you a reassuring smile, and then it was go time.

Your boss could be a shit bag – what CEO wasn’t? – but he had a way of speaking that made everyone so excited for the future. He was probably the reason why morale was always so high, and everyone looked forward to his presentation at these meetings. Your finger hovered over the right arrow button as he went through his speech, pointing out company statistics and what he wanted them all to accomplish this year, before finally getting to the goal reach. And his answer was nothing short of what the audience wanted to hear. He congratulated all of them, and everyone clapped together at the good news.

When you looked out at the crowd that had gathered, you realized almost every seat in the ballroom was filled. Some were even standing near the door and – wait, there was Wonwoo, leaning against the wall in the back. IT didn’t need to be here for this presentation. In fact, they were encouraged to be doing other things, like manning a table near HR and offering on-the-spot tech help. A smile made it’s way to your lips, watching the way Wonwoo was listening intently.

Once the presentation was over and the room erupted in small talk, your boss came over and thanked you for helping out yet again. “Of course,” you replied, as if there was anything else to say. He gave you a comforting squeeze of the hand before walking off to talk to some of his favorite sales reps.

As you shut your laptop and began to place your things in your backpack, Wonwoo slipped into the chair beside yours. Just the sight of his grin set you at ease, but also made you nervous at the same time. Why were you suddenly so nervous? This was just Wonwoo.

Just Wonwoo. Just Wonwoo. Just … your Wonwoo.

“Congratulations,” he beamed, giving you a high five. “I know you’ve been working on this all week, but you did it!”

You always stressed so much about this presentation, but at the end of the day … “All I did was press a button,” you shrugged.

Wonwoo rolled his eyes. “Well, yeah, but you didn’t accidentally delete your file like every other time you’ve messaged me on Slack.” He chuckled, and you scoffed at his teasing. “I’d call that a win.”

The second to last night of sales meeting week was the longest night of the year. It was a tradition for everyone to go out to a bar the company rented out, drinking whatever alcohol they could get their hands on while celebrating a job well done. You only saw half these people twice a year, and half of the time they’d have a beer in their hands.

You did your best to ignore every sales rep that tried to speak with you without slurring their words, but that was damn near impossible when some were already on their second cocktail. However, no matter how embarrassing it was, you did allow them to compliment you and your hard work. Who were you to turn down the validation? And when the time came, even your boss came over to compliment you again, and you realized there was truly nothing like being good at your job.

Just for a moment, everything felt okay. It was like the loneliness dissipated, the sting of years without pleasure or having someone by your side … it all faded when you were rewarded for your hard work.

Maybe tonight was the night you had fun for once.

When you finally found Wonwoo later that night, he was surrounded by a few younger members of the IT team, debating what computer language everyone should be obligated to learn. You waved to him from where you stood by the bar top, and that was all it took to have him walking away from his team and towards you. He wrapped one arm around your shoulders, insisting to buy you drinks for the rest of the night, and you didn’t hesitate to agree. If there was anyone here you trusted enough to hand you a drink, it was Wonwoo.

Just Wonwoo.

The hour was reaching midnight now, and you weren’t sure how many martinis you had, but you were hiccuping a storm. That was a telltale sign that you were totally, thoroughly drunk. Wonwoo was only drinking beer and pacing himself, unlike that night at the dive bar, but he was enjoying the sight of you finally letting loose. You hung on his arm, staring up at him with your big eyes, glazing over from all the alcohol coursing through your system. He didn’t like how this effected him; he shouldn’t be attracted to the way your gaze looked while you were intoxicated. But he couldn’t help but wonder if your eyes held the same shine while your lips were wrapped around his –

No, this was too much. He should take you back to the hotel.

The two of you glanced around the bar, realizing it was mostly cleared out. You definitely needed to leave now.

He tugged on your arm, wrapping one of his around your waist to support you. “C’mon now,” he grunted, helping you walk out. “Let’s get you back.”

“I didn’t f–finish my drink thoooooough,” you argued, despite letting him lead you out of the bar. “And I can walk … on my own. Swear!”

“Listen, you took care of me once,” he said as you two walked into the brisk cold air. The hotel was, thankfully, only a block away. “Let me take care of you.”

Even with the alcohol pumping in your veins, just the sound of those words falling from his mouth made you grip him tighter. You felt like your bones were made of jelly, and it wasn’t just from the vodka. It was him, and the way he made you feel, and how secretly warm he was, and the way he took care of you as you took care of him, and – oh, god, you wanted to cry because you liked Jeon Wonwoo so much.

So, so much.

It was much easier to get you back to your hotel room than his apartment, seeing as this hotel had a working elevator. You slumped beside him, tripping over your feet every so often, as he hauled you down the hallway to your room. You gave him your keycard easily, and once the door was open, he squeezed your hand to silently let you know it was time to move again. He helped you into the room, shutting the door behind him, before laying you down on your bed with the clumsiness only he could have.

You were laughing now, hiccuping from the alcohol, but laughing nonetheless. And he was laughing at your hiccups. Or maybe he just liked the way you grinned at him.

He assisted with taking off your boots and jacket, too embarrassed to remove anything else. And it definitely wasn’t appropriate to either. Tearing back the covers, he nestled you underneath them, and said, “You got everything, right? I’m a call away if you need me.” He grabbed one of the small trash cans in the room and placed it at your bedside. “If you need to vomit and can’t make it to the bathroom, just use the trash can here –”

You hand came out to wrap around his forearm. “Stay, Wonwoo.”

Your sleepy eyes were killing him, making his inhibitions melt and his cock throb at the same time. He sighed, sitting on the side of the mattress, and before he could stop himself, he was tucking hair behind your ear. “You know I can’t do that,” he said, his voice like a caress. “You know how it would look if someone saw me leave this room tomorrow morning. HR is on all our asses this week.”

“I know,” you slurred, and then pressed your flushed cheek into his palm. “I j–just thought you … were taking care of me thoooooooough …”

His resolve crumbled into a million pieces. This was complete, utter torture. You had to know how you effected him, but of course you didn’t, because you were stretching under the covers and yawning like you didn’t just make his heart stop.

That’s how he ended up in your bed, shutting off the lights and settling underneath the comforter. Until you came closer and rested your head on his chest. Despite how fast his heart was beating, he felt so at peace, and you both fell asleep in the clothes you wore out tonight.

Only a few hours later, you woke with a clear head and the beginning of a hangover. Your head was pounding like crazy, and it took everything in you to slip out from the comfort of your bed and pad your feet over to the bathroom. The bright light was burning your eyes, but you needed it to find the Tylenol you left by the sink. Filling a cup with water, you took the medication and prayed it worked sooner rather than later.

You squinted at yourself in the mirror, realizing you were still in the outfit you wore yesterday. With a sigh, you picked up the big t-shirt you left on the floor yesterday morning and stripped yourself until you were in nothing but your underwear. You pulled the t-shirt on and slumped against the wall, pressing your forehead against the cold tile. Now this felt like heaven for your headache.

It took a couple of minutes to get yourself to move again, feet slapping against the floor as you walked out of the bathroom. You noticed Wonwoo was awake too, in the midst of slinking back under the covers, and you saw his jeans abandoned by his bedside.You crawled back to your cocoon of blankets, and he instantly wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you against his chest. And you … you didn’t move away. In fact, you pressed yourself closer, finally hearing how his heart raced. Wonwoo didn’t care if it was probably 4 AM and he probably had to leave in a few hours – before anyone else woke – because he was holding you and smelling you hair. You smelled … god, you smelled so good that it made him hard almost instantly.

You felt his hand splay against your spine, as if trying to hold himself back, and it was then that your eyes opened. The room was dark, but you knew when his gaze was burning into yours only seconds later. You slipped one hand out from the covers, cupping his cheek as your thumb brushed over his lower lip. Under his breath, he muttered a soft, “Shit,” because you both knew where this was going.

You agreed you wouldn’t do this again. You agreed to be friends.

But now you’re kissing again.

Your hand moved from his face to his neck, and his hands are gripping your cheeks to make sure your mouth stayed on his. His fingers were shaking. He kissed you desperately, as if he needed this just to be able to breathe again, and maybe he did. You were like putty in his hands, molding yourself to his body as your tongue tangled with his. Whatever ache you felt in your temples drifted between your legs, causing you to moan into his mouth. And fuck, just the sound of you made his cock swell, precum soaking through his boxers.

The room felt so hot all of a sudden, but your cold hands came in handy as they rested on his neck. His left hand slid down to your ass, finally giving it a firm squeeze after kicking himself for not doing it when he first kissed you. That made you moan again, and he decided he’d never stop touching you like this, just so he could hear these sounds fall from your lips.

He slid his knee between your legs on instinct, and you didn’t hesitate to start grinding against his thigh. The friction felt delicious and soothing. You both kissed each other slower, a little messier, focusing on touching each other everywhere you dreamed about all these months. Your fingers traced down the column of his neck, down the thin cotton of the shirt he was still wearing from yesterday, while bucking against his thigh. His lips left yours, dragging across your cheek so he could nibble on your earlobe, feeling it grow warm and red from all the attention. “You have no idea how long I’ve needed you,” he whispered, and you damn near almost came from that confession.

You weren’t used to this; you couldn’t remember the last time you experienced pleasure like this with someone, but you couldn’t imagine stopping. Not when he angled his thigh just right, the muscle in his leg rubbing against your clit, your panties completely soaked. You cupped him over his boxers, feeling his bulge throb in your palm, and you cooed, “Can I …”

He groaned. You didn’t need to say more; Wonwoo was smart enough to know what you were insinuating. He felt disoriented, drunk off of you and your touch, smell, everything. “Are you … are you sure you don’t want to …” His voice was giving out, but from the way your fingers were slipping under the waistband of his boxers, you knew you wanted just this, and he’d give you whatever you wanted. “Yes. Yes, of course. That’s fine,” he finished.

You chuckled softly. He smiled against your neck. Pulling his cock out and wrapping your palm around it, you began to stroke him slowly. “Oh, god,” he was sighing into the crook of your neck, his brain in such a state of disarray when you resumed grinding against his leg while also pumping him from base to tip. This couldn’t be real; he had to be dreaming, but he could feel your wet panties sticking to his thigh. He could feel himself shake as he clung to you and pressed sloppy, wet kisses to your throat. It was all too much, but not enough at the same time.

“Wonwoo,” you whimpered, and he dragged his lips back to yours just to feel how your mouth moved when you said his name. You bucked your hips faster, your arousal coating his thigh, and warmth bloomed between your legs. When your hand on his cock reached his head again, you rubbed the pad of your thumb over his slit, making more precum bead onto your knuckles. “Wanna cum with you,” you begged, stroking him faster and in time with your hips.

“I know you do, I know,” he breathed against your lips. “Just a little faster … yes, just like that. Fuck.”

Only a moment later were you trembling, hips stuttering as pleasure took over your body. You came hard, squeezing his thigh between your legs, and your cry was swallowed by Wonwoo’s lips. If he didn’t kiss you, he knew he’d moan so loud it would wake the entire hotel. Because – oh, god, he was cumming now, and he was sighing against your mouth as he erupted in your hand, ropes of cum staining your t-shirt. He could’ve swore he saw white. He’d never felt a release like this before; not with anyone else. Not even when he jerked off. But maybe it was because this was your hand and you were cumming on his leg, and fuck –

You were still shaking in each other’s arms, minds blank and reeling, bodies coming down from the high. It took the kind of strength that moved mountains to slip from his arms and clean yourself up. But by the time you came back from the bathroom and cuddled up next to him, Wonwoo was already fast asleep.

Jeon Wonwoo [6:08 AM]: I had to leave early this morning before anyone woke. But if you want, I’d like to see you at breakfast this morning :)

You [7:31 AM]: Jeon Wonwoo, I’m begging you to just text this to me

You [7:31 AM]: Also, was your phone hacked? Since when do you use emojis?

There wasn’t much to do on the last day of sales meeting week. The only things on your plate were to make niceties with some of the new reps, and probably attend a few presentations by HR. When you had finally woken up this morning to just you in the bed, you almost considered skipping the HR presentations, feeling too guilty and like they might see right through you. It was irrational, but you were sure that this was the only way to feel after realizing that you hooked up with your coworker and friend.

Not that you hadn’t wanted to. Not that you hadn’t been thinking about it since your kiss. No, it wasn’t like that at all.

So why were suddenly terrified to see him at breakfast?

You got ready as quick as you could – but of course, making sure you wore that V-neck sweater that showed off your cleavage just right – and threw your hair up before leaving your hotel room. The line for the breakfast buffet was packed, but you waited patiently and decided to sit near the bar once you plate was full. The rest of the dining room was filled with people and you weren’t awake enough to make shitty small talk. Sitting here at the bar top was peaceful and quiet –

“Is this … seat taken?”

Your eyes met his instantly, and you noticed the way Wonwoo was cringing at the line he threw at you. You decided to forget it, for his sake, and gestured for him to sit down. Fuck, you were so goddamn nervous, even though you had agreed to meet him in the first place. You wore this low-cut sweater for him. You both sat in silence for a bit, crunching awkwardly on the burnt bacon, and shifting in your seats.

“Did you …” You were surprised that your mouth was moving on it’s own volition, spilling any words that came to your head. “… Do anything this morning since you were up early?”

Wonwoo choked a bit on a strawberry, but recovered quickly. “Uh … yeah, yeah, sure. Once I came down here, one of the IT interns found me in a panic because he couldn’t set up one of the rep’s new work phones. Created a whole scene over nothing.”

You snorted and sipped your coffee. “Is that intern still breathing?”

His eyes flickered to yours, a slow smile growing on his face. “Yes, actually.”

You fell into sync then, letting the awkward silence melt away as you joked about Wonwoo’s interns. He wasn’t meant to teach college students, god help them. But as your plates became empty and a server came around to take them, you two were left with only the mugs in your hands, strangely reminiscent of that apology coffee he bought for you so long ago.

Wonwoo sighed. “Hey, so about last night – or I guess, this morning …”

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you interjected, setting your coffee down. “I have a hangover, but I am thriving.”

He blinked. “Well, that’s good. But I was referring to –”

You almost couldn’t look at him when you said, “The fact that we’re definitely not just friends anymore?”

He chuckled. “Yeah, that part.”

“I …” You licked your lips as you gathered yourself. There was this … terrifying flutter in your chest. You’d never felt something like this before, but you weren’t keen on letting it go. Not yet. “I would like to see you again. Like that. Definitely not during work hours. If you catch my drift. This is awkward.”

Wonwoo had to turn his head so you wouldn’t see him trying to hold in his laughter, but it was clear as day. You sighed loud and hit his arm, making him look at you once again as he snickered to himself. “You know, you could just ask me if I want to hang out.”

You leveled a look at him and huffed. “Okay, Wonwoo, do you –”

“Yes,” he beamed. “Always, yes.”

You found yourself at Wonwoo’s side more often than not. What used to be work get togethers transitioned to meeting up at a bar, or checking a new restaurant on the weekends. Sometimes he’d ask you to come over so you could taste test a new recipe he found. (Unfortunately for both of you, Wonwoo wasn’t very good at cooking, but he was getting better. Somewhat.) Those recipe nights, however, always led to him lifting you up on his creaky kitchen counter and kissing you so hard that you almost forgot to breathe. Until Mingyu came into the kitchen, making a gagging sound, and you two instantly detached from each other.

Friday nights were known as Mingyu’s Movie Nights, and Wonwoo began inviting you to those. He had said that this would help knock a few movies off your Letterboxd Watchlist, but you knew that was just an excuse for wanting to see you. You probably saw him more than anyone now, but you couldn’t deny that you … wanted to see him too. Having him in your life made everything suddenly better. He was kind and smart and thoughtful. He made you laugh in ways you couldn’t explain, and obviously … he didn’t have to do much to make you want him. He’d simply have to look at you and you’d get on his lap. If Mingyu wasn’t there, of course.

Wonwoo seemed to blossomed with you. He was more excited to leave his apartment, more eager to become a better cook. He spoke up often, whether it be at work or out with you, rather than letting someone talk. He wanted to learn all the things that you liked, wanted to touch you exactly where you needed it, wanted to find new ways to leave you breathless. Because it was for you.

Even Mingyu noticed a difference in his friend. He’d known Wonwoo for so many years now, but he’d never made this much of a change for anyone. One night, when you and Mingyu were alone in the kitchen, he mentioned, “He’s different around you.” And then kept pouring wine in three glasses while Wonwoo picked a movie from the living room.

There were also times where Wonwoo was a booty call, of course, and neither of you had any problems with that. Some nights, Wonwoo would call you after Mingyu went to bed, begging you to come over, but ended up settling for phone sex. His attraction to you in stockings only went up, and it was difficult for him to contain his arousal at work when you strutted around just knowing how it affected him. There was days where all he wanted to do was pull you into a janitor closet and fuck the living daylights out of you. But it wasn’t like you’d let him anyway.

You had your fair share of desperate moments too. Especially tonight, as you were out drinking with your friends at a local spot you’d been coming to for years. The live band was loud and you’d had your fair share of shitty margaritas already. One of your friends was tugging on the arm of some rando she met on the dance floor, yelling over the music that she was leaving and she’d text you when she was home safe. That left you shit out of luck for a ride home, and suddenly very lonely. The last thing you wanted was to drink alone at a shitty bar on a Saturday night.

Wandering outside, your heeled boots crunched in the snow as you looked for the nearest Uber. The fastest one around would take over 20 minutes to get to you, and as you looked around the empty city streets … wait, didn’t Wonwoo live around here? Maybe all the tequila was just getting to you. But you called him anyway, and despite the time reaching 1 AM, he answered instantly. He heard the slight lisp in your voice, and once he got out of you exactly where you were, he realized you were right. It only took him about 10 minutes to get to where you were, parking on the side of the road.

He sighed at the sight of you sitting on the curb, shivering and hugging your jacket around you. Various drunk people filtered in and out of the bar, but none of them checked on you – a freezing girl just sitting on the side of the road. “Why didn’t you wait inside for me?” He asked, his breath hot against your cheek when he pulled you up in his arms. Your dress rode up a little, and his hands were quick to yank it back down. “It’s the middle of winter.”

“I jusssst thought … the cold air would sssssober me up,” you slurred, letting him place you in his passenger seat before running back over to the driver’s side. His car was warm, making you bury yourself in your jacket, but his hand on your thigh was even warmer somehow. If your fingers weren’t so cold, you’d wrap your hand around his wrist, inching his palm up higher as he drove.

Once he was parked, he wasted no time getting you out and helping you up the stairs to his apartment. Mingyu was passed out on the couch, an old movie from the 80s playing on the TV, but you could hardly register it because your brain was spinning and Wonwoo was practically dragging you to his bedroom. He was grateful that all the lights were off so you couldn’t see how messy it was, but honestly, it was a miracle if you could see anything clearly right now.

He sat you down on the bed and you looked up at him with bleary eyes, which made you so fucking hard to resist. All the tequila you drank was pumping through your bloodstream, and you couldn’t help but fist your hands in his t-shirt and try to kiss him. He evaded your lips though – no matter how much he wanted to – and you whined, “Whyyyyyy won’t you kiss me?”

“Shhh …” He whispered, yanking off your boots. “Inside voice. Mingyu’s sleeping.”

You smacked your hands against his mattress. “He’s sleeping in the living room!”

Wonwoo got back to his feet, gesturing as he instructed, “Arms up.” You were too intoxicated to do anything but oblige, lifting your arms as he struggled to pull your dress over your head. Once it was off and thrown to the side with your boots, your hazy vision caught him looking through his drawers for clothes for you to wear. But didn’t he just take your clothes off? You could’ve sworn he did that because he wanted you too right now.

You protested when he tried putting you in one of his simple white tees, but your body felt too limp to fight. He slipped the shirt over your head before pulling back his comforter and wrapping you in it. With your eyes half open, you watched him come to the other side of the bed, yanking his pants down and crawling in bed beside you. He reached over you and set his glasses on the side table. You sighed dramatically. Now he was just torturing you. Wonwoo simply chuckled to himself, realizing what you were angry about.

His arms instantly wound around you, his lips pulled into a smile at your hairline. You looked up at him with a scowl and your voice slurred, “Whysss your eyes closed?”

Wonwoo snickered under his breath. “Because it’s late and I’m tired.” His hand on your lower back traced circles, attempting to coax you to sleep.

“I thought you wanted meeeee,” you complained. Your hand reached in between you two, smoothing your palm against his groin as he slowly started to harden under your touch. You heard his breath hitch slightly, so you kept going, a soft ache beginning between your own legs at just the thought of putting him in your mouth.

“Sweetheart, I always want you.” He then grabbed your wrist, moving your hand away from him, and then lacing your fingers together. Pressing a kiss to the side of your forehead, he sighed sleepily, “But you’re much sexier when you’re sober.”

You started to realize why you didn’t usually do this, why it had been so long since you let someone see every part of you. What you looked like completely stripped down – both inside and out – completely vulnerable for your person. How your face contorted during pleasure, and how it relaxed when you were taken care of.

Catching feelings like this meant giving up control.

You didn’t work on the weekends unless you had to, and when the Boss sent you a high priority email on Saturday morning, you didn’t hesitate. He had transferred over a bunch of sensitive files that were needed for a board presentation first thing Monday morning. But of course, something just had to go wrong: the files were corrupted and you had no way of figuring out what to do. And it wasn’t like your boss was on call like you were on a Saturday.

This was how you ended up at Wonwoo’s apartment.

You had called him in a panic, explaining what had went wrong, but he didn’t seem too fazed. He was used to your tech emergencies by now. But by the time you got to his apartment, out of breath after running from the train station, he had realized just how serious you were taking this. You both sat down on his couch and you let him work his magic. His fingers moved across the keys as if he were a musician, and you couldn’t stop biting your nail nervously.

Mingyu came back to the apartment after grocery shopping, waving at you before putting all the food away. Seeing as you were here, maybe they could all go out and have fun tonight. He went into the living room, ready to mention a band that was playing at a local venue later, but upon seeing the stressed look on both your faces, he exhaled. “It’s a Saturday,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Why do you two look like that?”

“Corrupted documents,” Wonwoo answered quickly, not even looking up from the monitor.

“I don’t even want to know more,” he said, grabbing his leather jacket from the coat rack and tugging his arms through the sleeves. “Just your faces are making me anxious. I’m heading out. Don’t wait up.”

You gave Mingyu a wave as he left, but Wonwoo was too focused to even say goodbye. It took about another hour and one cup of coffee, but Wonwoo eventually figured out how to uncorrupt the files. You let out a sigh of relief as he handed the laptop back to you and you were able to open each of them without issue. Thank god, you had managed to figure this out before Monday morning. And … having Wonwoo wasn’t too bad either.

“Thank you,” you beamed, not being able to resist pinching his cheek. “My hero.”

Silence engulfed the room as you both noticed how the sky was already getting dark. You cleared your throat, slipping your laptop back into your bag and muttering, “Thanks again. I know I kind of barged in and wasted your Saturday afternoon –”

Like the saint he was, Wonwoo simply smiled at you. “No time with you is a waste.”

Whatever words you were about to say clogged in your throat. You swallowed hard, attempting to hide your fluster, but you ended up choking out, “I … should go.”

“You don’t have to.” He stood from the couch, walking over to you and running his hands down your arms. His brow lifted. “Do you want to?”

You let the strap of your bag fall to the floor as your hands cupped his neck. “No, not particularly.”

Wonwoo chuckled, leaning in and letting his lips just lightly graze yours. “We have the place to ourselves,” he hummed, slowly dragging you backwards with him. “Mingyu’s gone … probably won’t be back until midnight.”

You bit your lip to suppress a giggle, letting him lead you to his room, as limp as a rag doll. Once he shut his bedroom door behind you, he flicked the light on. You pressed your back against the door and your eyes roamed around the space. This was the first time you saw his bedroom with the light on; every other time had been pitch black. You liked that his walls weren’t bare – they were filled with posters of his favorite musicians or photographs. On his desk was a large monitor and a gaming set up, but also a camera with stacks of film next to it. His furniture was old – probably from the 90s, probably passed down from his family – but the scratches within the wood told a story. And unlike most men, his sheets were gray.

Wonwoo realized you were scanning his room, and he became acutely aware of the clothes scattered amongst his floor. He muttered something to himself, beginning to pick up the clothes piles and chuck them into his hamper. “Sorry,” he murmured. “I wish I inherited the organized gene like Mingyu.”

You tilted your head, striding over and pulling him up, making him halt his actions. Your hands went to his face as you brought him closer. With a smile, you whispered, “I don’t want to talk about Mingyu,” before pressing your lips to his.

The kiss became deep far too quickly, or maybe time was passing faster than usual. Your lips crashed so hard against his that they’d bruise. He took off his glasses, setting them on his drawer, before his fingers hooked into the belt loops of your jeans. You stepped forward, making him step back, then another, and another – until you had him falling back on his bed. You straddled him, arching your back so you could lick into his mouth just how he liked. Hands sliding up his shirt, you felt his abdomen flex underneath you. His fingers in your belt loops jerked you closer, pressing your hips to his, and it wasn’t long before he was moaning into the kiss.

You smiled against his mouth, dragging your lips down his neck, and then even further, as you slinked down his body. Your eyes were trained on his, and he was trying his best not to look like a complete idiot in front of you. But it was difficult when you were looking at him with those eyes and – oh, now you were pulling down the waistband of his sweatpants, practically salivating when you noticed how hard he was already.

But … this was what you guys always did. Not that he had an issue with you giving him blow jobs, but none of this felt particularly intimate. You never really let him worship you; you took control of the entire situation. As if you were bringing your professional stubbornness to the bedroom.

“Wait,” he choked out as you palmed his growing bulge. “Can we … can we try something different?”

Your brows furrowed and you continued pressing sloppy kisses above his groin. “Why would we do that?”

Wonwoo let out a frustrated sound, and before you could prepare yourself, he was yanking his pants back up and pinning you underneath him. You blinked up at him in surprise, and he was gripping your wrists above your head now, his bodyweight pressing you into the mattress. He almost looked shocked that he had the strength to push you back, but his blown-out pupils gave away his true desire.

“What was that for?” You asked incredulously. Nerves clouded your thoughts, making you stutter. “I thought … I thought you liked …”

“No, trust me, I do,” he assured you, and then tipped his head as he gazed down at you. “I just … why won’t you let me take care of you?”

You scoffed then, trying to cover up how petrifying this conversation was becoming. Were you that transparent now, or did he simply know you far too well for your own good?

“I have no idea what you’re –”

Wonwoo gave you one of his infamous leveled looks, and you sighed. “You’re in constant need of seeking control when it’s always at your fingertips. It’s okay to let it go; it won’t slip away.” He let go of your wrists then, but kept his body hovering over yours, holding himself up by his elbows resting near your head. “Please, just … surrender it for once. Let me take the lead.”

You glanced down at your hands on your chest, twiddling your thumbs. Eventually, you murmured, “It’s hard. I’ve never done that before.”

“Can we try? I like …” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, then let his head fall as he chuckled to himself. “This is so awkward. I just – I like prioritizing your pleasure. It feels much better for me and I think it will for you too. And if you don’t like it –”

“I’m not good with change,” you blurted.

“I know,” he whispered, his voice taking on that husky tone that made warmth pool in your stomach. His eyes flickered to your lips now, noticing how swollen they still were. “I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. It was just a suggestion, and I probably ruined the mood.”

You shook your head immediately, allowing your fingers to tenderly sweep over his shirt. “No, I …” A voice in the back of your head told you this was a good thing, and you did want this, but the fear of change was overwhelming. You wanted to step out of your comfort zone, desperately, for once. You were allowed to do this; you were allowed to be happy.

Your gaze met his again. “I want to try.”

His eyes softened with affection, but then he asked, “You’re not just agreeing for my sake, right?”

“Now when have I ever done that?” You laughed, making him smile along with you.

But as soon as his mouth met yours, that awkward, giggling persona seemed to melt away. Jeon Wonwoo morphed into an entirely different person, someone that possessed your jaw in his large hand, pulling at your bottom lip before kissing you harder. It was enough to leave you gasping for air once he pulled away, spit connecting you two, and he continued to suck and nip his way down your throat. He made sure to leave marks in places that could be covered up for work, but he’d know exactly where they were. God, would he even be able to control himself at his desk, knowing where his bites were hiding under your clothes?

Tugging your sweater over your head, he practically whined at the sight of your breasts, constricted in the bra that you told him was too old once, but you kept wearing it anyway because he said it was cute. He lifted you for a moment, expertly removing it with one hand, before licking the valley between your breasts. You arched into him, sighing into your arm when he swirled his tongue around your taut nipple. He glanced up and realized you were hiding your face, so he pushed your hand off. “I want you to look at me while I do this,” he cooed, but it sounded more like a demand.

Despite the embarrassment, you did as he asked, feeling completely bewitched as you watched him cup the swell of your breast, tugging on your nipple. This felt like a goddamn Pornhub video. You two have had sex before, yes, but not like this. Never like this. Wonwoo had always let you do what you were comfortable with, keeping his other side at bay while you rode him hard on the couch. But this … this felt like something else entirely. The way he was lavishing both your nipples, coating them with his spit, demanding you to watch … Expletives filtered softly from your mouth, wetness gathering between your thighs. It suddenly felt too hot and your jeans were still on.

Wonwoo was taking his time with you though, and it was very clear to you that this wouldn’t just be one of those nights where you had sex for 10 minutes before ordering pizza. When he lifted his mouth from your left nipple, he asked calmly, “Do you like this or do you want more?”

You sneered, “Well, of course, I like –”

His hand came up instantly to pinch your other nipple, and you couldn’t stop the whimper that came out of your mouth. “No teasing,” he said, lowering his head to flick that nipple with his tongue. “Just answer me.”

“More,” you choked out, your hips arching off the bed, seeking friction. “Please, more.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss between your breasts once again, before lowering himself down your body. His eyes never left yours as he dragged his lips down your stomach. Eventually, he had to stand from the bed so he could finally unzip your pants, tugging when they got stuck around your ankles. When the cold air hit between your legs, you realized how soaked you were already. Wonwoo smirked to himself, slowly rolling your panties down your legs.

“Don’t let it get to your head,” you joked, kicking your panties off into a pile by his bed.

He lifted your ankle, nipping playfully, and replied, “Told you that you’d like me taking the lead.”

You rolled your eyes as he settled between your thighs, bending your knees back so your feet rested beside his head. You bit your lip as he placed sloppy kisses on your inner thigh, biting hard enough to make a bruise. Wonwoo fought hard to maintain a sense of composure, but god, the sight of your pretty pussy oozing slick made him wonder if he could cum untouched. You had let him finger you before, but had never been in the mood for this. And this was something Wonwoo had been fantasizing about since the day he noticed that tear in your stockings. He could jump for joy if that didn’t make him look like an absolute fucking loser.

He pushed your folds apart with two fingers, running a hand down his face as he attempted to school his expression. It was just so fucking hard to act cool when you were this aroused. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip. You reached out and brushed his hair back from his forehead, deciding to quip, “Wonwoo, can you even find the clit without your glasses on –”

Without warning, he spit on your pussy and buried his face between your thighs. The words died on your tongue immediately, and you let out the loudest whine he’d ever heard in his life. He smiled, but that didn’t deter him from circling his tongue around your clit. He wound one of his arms around your thigh, holding you in place as he pressed his face further.

Wrapping his lips around your clit, he sucked and drew out the prettiest sounds from you, using his free hand to slip two fingers inside you. You tasted exactly like he dreamed about, sweet and tangy and so unmistakably you. He looked up at you from between your legs, curling his fingers in the spot that made tears prick at your eyes, and when your gaze found his, it was like something in him snapped. “Fuck,” he muttered, his voice muffled, feasting at you like he’d been starved for days.

Your fingers were in his hair now, pressing his head more into you, which only made this more enjoyable for him. He nearly came in his pants when your hips began to buck against his face, but this was about you. And him experiencing you cumming on his face. But mostly you. His fingers pumped faster inside you and his tongue was now flicking your clit, allowing more of your arousal to invade his mouth. He’d never get tired of this taste; he was obsessed. Now that he finally got a taste of you … he never wanted to not be doing this. Never wanted his face too far from the apex of your legs. Not when you had the sweetest taste that could move heaven and earth between these thighs.

And when you finally came on his tongue, he noticed that your legs shook like an earthquake. Your essence flooded his mouth, and he moaned – god, did he moan – lapping at you, never missing a drop of what you gave him. His fingers kept curling inside of you, making your orgasm feel like forever. When he finally removed them with a wet pop, he didn’t miss the opportunity to have more of you, wrapping his mouth around those two fingers and licking off the last of your release. You watched him, completely mesmerized by the way he savored you, even darting his tongue out to capture the whatever seeped out of you. Your hips jolted, suddenly so sensitive, and he grinned up at you.

You hardly caught your breath before he crawling up your body, kissing you hard and letting you taste yourself on his tongue. Your hands fisted in his t-shirt, and when you ripped your lips away from his, you arched a brow. “You are still fully clothed,” you reminded, and then swiped at the spit lining his bottom lip.

Wonwoo simply smiled, ghosting his lips over yours before trailing them to your ear. “I’m getting to that part. Patience,” he whispered, nibbling on your earlobe. “You must really want me inside you.”

“I want to not be the only one naked.”

“Say it,” he prodded in a weirdly casual tone.

“What?”

“Say you want me inside you.”

“This is ridiculous –”

He lifted his head from your jawline. “I can easily leave this room and order a pizza,” he teased, and you blinked at him. He was actually being serious. He would completely ignore what looked like a throbbing erection in his pants, just to make a point. You knew he wasn’t trying to be mean; he wanted to get you out of your comfort zone. This was so stupid, because you did want him inside you. Embarrassingly so. He had just given you one of the best orgasms of your life, but you still had this … aching need to be filled. Your cheeks heated just at the thought of it.

“I …” Your eyes closed for a moment, trying not to make your whole face turn bright red. With a sigh, your eyes connected again, and you answered, “I want you inside me, Wonwoo.”

He rewarded you with a kiss, pulling away before it could get too heated again, and stood from the bed. “Well, when you ask nicely …” He smiled, that dominating demeanor slipping for a moment as he pulled his shirt off. You’d never get tired of the way Wonwoo looked without a shirt. He didn’t let anyone see it very often – he wasn’t like his roommate – but the moments he did, you felt eternally grateful. His torso was toned, with defined abs and pecks that made your mind boggle. You liked that his arms were long and muscled; his hands large and slightly calloused.

You liked everything about him.

When he finally went to kick off his sweatpants, he noticed a large precum stain on the gray fabric from just eating you out. Which was probably the biggest jab to his calm and collected attitude right now, but he didn’t let it slip. He simply threw the sweatpants to the side, coming up close to the bed again, where your legs were now hanging off the edge. You gazed up at him as if he held the world in his palms, watching the way he reached into his boxers and pulled out his cock. Your eyes widened at the sight, never used to the size. He was slightly thicker than average, but long. Longer than you ever expected. With a pretty pink head leaking sticky precum.

It was killing you how long he was taking. Your legs shifted, ready to make a move to yank him underneath you, but he was faster than you. He pinned your wrists about your head with one hand this time, using his other to keep a firm grip on his cock. “You want to be in control that badly, huh?” He asked, tilting his head.

His hand was moving up and down his shaft now, letting precum dribble on your stomach. Your eyes flickered from his cock back to his eyes. “I just … I need you, Wonwoo,” you begged, your voice taking on a new tone. And somehow … wanting him so bad like this was ten times more arousing than riding him on the couch. “Please, please, Wonwoo. Please, fuck me.”

Your pleas had him falling apart, and he sighed, letting go of your wrists to discard his boxers too. His cock flopped against his stomach, hard and aching and – fuck, had he always been veiny? He got on top of you again, cooing against your lips, “I know, baby, I know.” His rubbed the underside of his length against your wet folds, moaning at the slightest bit of friction. “I’ll fuck you real good. I promise.”

Pressing the head of his cock at your entrance, his breath hitched at just the feeling of your arousal coating his shaft. You both had never taken your time with sex. But he was doing that tonight now that he was in control, letting himself slowly push inside you, feel you completely stretch open for him. You mewled, slinking your arms around his neck and carding your fingers at the nape. And when he finally buried himself to the hilt, his lips fell open and he groaned. You felt so good he could cum right now, but he needed to get a grip. The last thing he needed was to cum too fast.

Not that you would like him any less if he did.

“Wonwoo,” you cried, your hips arching up to meet his. “Please.”

Your voice snapped him out of whatever trance-like state he was in. He settled more on top of you, resting his elbows on both sides of your head, and pulled all the way out so only the tip remained. You whined at the emptiness, which soon changed to a gasp when he bullied his cock back in. Your fingers tugged at his hair; your legs crossed around his waist, drawing him deeper inside. “Fuck,” he muttered, still feeling how tight you were, how you molded yourself for him. “So fucking … god, so wet.”

His restraint could only last so long. He’d gotten his fill of feeling you adjust around him. He couldn’t take this anymore, or he was going to cum before you both had even started. With a deep breath, he set a brutal pace inside of you, his hips snapping forward. Tears rolled down your cheeks; how could something feel so good that you cried? Wonwoo seemed to be thinking the same thing, because he was burying his face in the crook of your neck and groaning, “God, so good … you feel so good … how can anyone feel this good?”

The only word you could choke out was, “Ditto,” which you’d regret for hours after this. But now was not the time.

He was fucking into you so hard that you were already sore, but you were holding onto him for dear life, clinging to him as that warmth burned in your gut. The way his cock curved and grazed your g-spot perfectly, making you tremble and whimper his name like a prayer. He placed a hand on your stomach, feeling how deep his cock nestled inside you, and you noticed him shiver in your arms. He was trying desperately to fight off his release. That coil in your gut began to tighten, and from the way Wonwoo was breathing, you knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. He wanted you to cum first though – like always – wanted to feel you clamp around him, squeeze him so tight that he saw white.

So he did what he did best: reached in between your bodies, finding your swollen, sensitive clit so easily, and rubbed slow circles. He lifted his head from your neck, wanting to see that familiar look in your eyes when you saw stars. “Are you gonna cum for me?” His voice was so deep that it reverberated against your chest.

And finally, as he pressed his thumb down hard and pushed into you just right, you felt your orgasm crest. “Fuck, Wonwoo,” you sobbed, body shaking as you came undone.

But Wonwoo wasn’t stopping. He kept fucking into you, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. And when your walls squeezed him so tight, he buried himself completely and came hard, a generous amount of fucks leaving his lips. His cheek pressed against yours; his groans muffled by the comforter. You held him close as he filled you to the brink with his release, and it almost felt like hours before he realized he finished.

You exhaled together, allowing your heart rates to settle. He turned his head slightly, pressing a kiss to your cheek, and then to your nose, and now he was kissing all over your face. Your cheeks instantly tinged pink, but you let him do as he pleased. He didn’t even make a move off you, letting his cock soften inside your warmth. When your eyes opened, he was staring down at you like you were the sun. You searched his eyes, “What?”

His dark gaze flickered to your lips for a moment, and then he asked, “Did you really say, ‘Ditto,’ during sex?”

You and Wonwoo had gotten into a routine. Of course, you saw him 5 days out of the week at work, but you wanted more of him. You figured out Mingyu’s schedule, coming over most nights when he wasn’t home – besides Mingyu’s Movie Nights. You would let Wonwoo cook for you, and he promised he was getting better, before he led you to his room with kisses to your neck and a firm grip on your hand.

He always went with whatever you were comfortable with, but you found yourself letting him take the lead more often than not. You liked letting him prioritize you; you liked being selfish with him. Giving up control felt … much better than anticipated. Everything about this felt too good to be true. But you couldn’t help yourself, and you didn’t want to spoil it by asking him the dreaded, “What are we?” For now, you’d exist in your safe little bubble, where he would smile at you at work and then fuck your brains out after hours. It felt perfect, simple.

You approached sex through a different lens now. Instead of simply riding him on that godforsaken old couch, you let him go at his own pace: placing you on his lap, having his way with you and making you cum at least 3 times before he sunk you down on his cock, bouncing you up and down as you clung to him, practically letting him use you as a flesh light. Even when he let you sit on his face, it was on his terms: his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave a mark, trying to suffocate himself with your pussy, not allowing you to cum until he said so, no matter how much you needed to. But it felt too good to stop. You didn’t want this to stop. You liked the lack of control, liked the way he took care of you. The way he bent your knees back as he slid into you, keeping eye contact, so you’d feel him that much deeper … the way he could feast on you for hours, never getting enough of your taste … there was something about it that made you feel more than beautiful.

Especially when he looked at you as if you were his world.

Especially when he fucked into you and you realized you might be in love with him.

You tended to get lost in thought while laying in bed on an early morning. The birds chirped outside, your phone chimed along with each new notification. Curling underneath your comforter, you held your pounding head, reminiscing on last Sunday. You had gone over Wonwoo’s apartment and he had surprised you with a spaghetti dinner. Mingyu promised that it was “more edible than usual” before he left you two alone in the apartment.

You had noticed the shine in Wonwoo’s eyes, how excited he was to do this for you. He had never bothered to learn anything for anyone, but all he wanted to do was please you. To make you happy. And you could see that in the way he gazed at you, making your stomach do flip flops. Letting him have all this control over you, letting him see past the fortress you’d kept up for who knows how long … it was scary and exhilarating all at the same time.

He taught you how to play his favorite video game after dinner, placing you in between his legs on the couch and letting you lean back against his broad chest. His arms cocooned around you, nestling your body in his embrace. Sometimes he would nibble on your ear as you fought to maintain hand-eye coordination with the controller. Eventually, you had given up and asked to watch him, but that led to his hand dropping the controller as the enemy killed him off. And then his fingers were slowly slipping down the waistband of your leggings, rubbing your slit over your panties. You had arched into him, your ass pressing against his hardening erection as he pulled your panties to the side, already finding you wet and ready for his touch. He chuckled in your ear, “How long have you been thinking about this?” His index finger rubbed tight circles on your clit, and all that you could formulate for a response was a moan as he –

You cut yourself off from the memory before it could end you.

Your stomach churned. Despite your better judgement, you had completely fallen head-over-heels for senior IT specialist, Jeon Wonwoo, and that was terrifying. He had seen your personality unfold, seen the most vulnerable parts of you. But nothing was more scary than admitting to yourself how much you liked him, maybe even loved. You were frantic to the point of exhaustion, so stressed that you felt sick. Soon you were shivering, your head pounding as a fever came on, and you stayed home from work for a few days. Your phone notifications be damned – you stayed in your bedroom with the blinds closed, sleeping the days away.

Every so often, you would hear your phone chime. Your phone screen would light up with another text message. But … you couldn’t bring yourself to answer him. This behavior was illogical and stupid; you just simply couldn’t help yourself. You were an avoidant. The only thing you knew how to do was slowly push him away before he saw all the layers underneath your carefully crafted facade.

What if he finally saw how anxious you were all the time?

What if he knew how you secretly craved to be loved your entire life, but you looked for it elsewhere, in places like workplace praise or crowded bars where you couldn’t see another person’s face?

What if he knew you weren’t as organized up in your head as you were at your desk?

Or worse … what if he didn’t like you back?

TUESDAY, APRIL 22

Wonwoo: What’s going on?

Wonwoo: I managed to find out that you’re sick. I can make you soup, if you want? I know my cooking is terrible. But what if this time it’s good and it cures you?

Wonwoo: If I threaten to message you on Slack, will that make you reply?

Wonwoo: I promise I won’t. Unless … lol

Wonwoo: You’re not dead, right?

Wonwoo: Please, answer me.

FRIDAY, APRIL 25

UNKNOWN: hey, it’s Mingyu. I found your number in Wonwoo’s phone. he’s really messed up right now and worrying about you.

UNKNOWN: idk what’s going on between you two, but I don’t like seeing him like this.

UNKNOWN: just … call him. or text him. or something.

Jeon Wonwoo [10:13 AM]: Did your computer die and you need a new charger?

Jeon Wonwoo [3:21 PM]: I miss you.

When you finally returned to work, it’s on a day that your cubicle mate had decided to work from home. You couldn’t decide if that was a blessing or curse until the next day, when you wished that he decided to work from home forever. It was on a Tuesday morning that you finally faced him again, locking eyes with him from across the boardroom table in an all-hands meeting. You weren’t sure what to say, weren’t sure what you could say, but … he didn’t speak to you any way. In fact, even when you both got back to your desks, he kept quiet, throwing on his headphones and focusing on whatever task was at hand. His attitude change wasn’t exactly surprising, but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak to him either.

All your other coworkers looked bewildered. The silence between you two made just about everyone feel awkward. They all saw how close you and Wonwoo had become, and now everything just felt … flat. Silent. Empty. It was like you two were strangers. Maybe you had never really known each other in the first place, if you could both discard each other so easily.

But that just seemed too good to be true. You thought about him everyday, despite yourself, and he had to think of you too. You caught his eyes on you every once in a while, and you couldn’t help but yearn for him in silence. It was probably time for you to take charge again and make the first move, but you found yourself hesitating. Again. You were overwhelmed with thoughts of rejection.

This was why you never gave up control with someone before. It left you suddenly so, so doubtful.

You [1:34 PM]: I can’t get into my Outlook. I think I’ve locked myself out

Jeon Wonwoo is now offline.

You [1:36 PM]: I miss you too

It was a busy Sunday, the first notes of Spring evident in the air. You needed to go to the post office today, the supermarket, probably check in on your parents … but that was all discarded when you made the sudden decision to take a taxi to Wonwoo’s apartment. Your hands were shaking more than his when he first touched you. Your leg was bouncing with anxiety, and when the taxi finally pulled up to his building, you considered never getting out.

But you couldn’t continue being a coward. Besides, this driver had places to be, with the way he was arguing for you to pay in cash.

You were lucky enough to slide in through the building’s entrance while someone was walking out. The less you had to embarrass yourself by calling Mingyu to let you in, the better. The walk up those two flights of stairs was long and tiring, and it wasn’t because you always hated them. You physically couldn’t make yourself go faster, too frightened of what he was going to say when he saw you. Maybe he wouldn’t say anything; maybe he’d slam the door in your face. And you couldn’t blame him, because now you were at his door and – oh, god, you wanted to hurl.

The door was opening before you could even catch your breath. When you caught that first glimpse of Mingyu, you realized how much of a mistake this was. You could always turn back, run down the stairs before anyone could say a word.

But as soon as you both locked eyes, Mingyu raised his brow, but not in a mocking sense. It was as if … he expected you to be here. He sighed, leaning against the door, and without looking back, he called out, “Wonwoo! You got a visitor.”

Your eyes went wide, and then Mingyu was pushing past you, leaving the door open and muttering, “Good luck.” He was rushing down the stairs two at a time before you could even say a word back. But then you were seeing him, and you wondered if it had always been this hard to breathe around him.

Your fingers played absentmindedly as you both stared at each other. His glasses were slipping down his nose, but he made no move to fix them. His own hand was too busy dropping the controller that had been in his grip, now clattering to the floor. His hair was messed up and he was wearing his favorite comfy sweatsuit, and you … you were put together, as always. Your hair unwashed, but pulled up in a ponytail, and wearing that cardigan he liked so much on you. If he wasn’t so hurt, just the sight of you would have him on his knees right now, begging to have you.

He had to turn around and walk away. If he didn’t right now, he’d just –

“Wait,” you said, walking in and closing the door when he spun away. “Please, don’t. I –”

“What could you possibly say?” He snapped, facing you once again. You had never heard his voice at this octave before, never seen so much distress on his face. “I thought we knew each other well enough that you wouldn’t cut me off out of nowhere. As if I’m just some guy you met at a bar last weekend.”

Your mouth opened, and then closed.

“Do you … do you even understand how worried I was about you?” He ran a hand through his hair, voice cracking for the first time in forever. You took a step closer to him. “You weren’t answering me and I just … my head went to the worst. I thought Mingyu was gonna kill me the next time I mentioned your name. And then, to see you at work and realizing that you were actually just ghosting me was a fucking punch to the gut. I didn’t get it. I still don’t get it. But I’m so pissed at you for hurting my feelings that I’m not even sure if I wanna know.”

“Wonwoo –” You started.

“Please, don’t say my name like that,” he sighed and pinched his nose. “I realize that you came all this way to finally break the news to me, but I’m good. It’s very obvious to me now that you don’t like me as much as I like you, and to save us the pity party, let me get you home –” He reached for his wallet to grab some cash for your next taxi.

But you interrupted before he could finish.

“I love you.”

He paused, looking up and making sure he heard you right. “What?”

“I’m in love with you,” you said it again, and it felt so freeing to have this weight lifted off your shoulders. You moved closer, now standing a foot away, but refusing to touch him for your own good. “And I’m not just telling you that as an excuse. Ignoring you was cruel and I can never forgive myself for hurting you. I just … when I realized how deep my feelings for you were …” Your throat closed up, as if your body was acting on instinct, preventing you from being vulnerable with him.

Wonwoo closed the distance. “Hey,” he whispered, tucking a hair behind your ear. “I’m right here with you.”

His voice was so reassuring – as always – opening you up like a blooming flower. And suddenly, your mouth didn’t feel so dry anymore and your nails stopped making crescent-shaped indents in your palm.

“I got scared,” you confessed, your gaze locked on his. “And I ran away, because that was the easiest thing to do. I thought ignoring you would be best for both of us, and I stubbornly didn’t want to hear your opinion on any of this. What I did was wrong and I … I hate myself when I do stuff like this to people I care about.”

Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes, but he wiped them with his thumb before they could fall. You sniffled, noticing the hurt in his eyes had faded, replaced only by adoration. Your lips pursed as you searched his gaze.

“I’ve just … never allowed anyone to open me up like this. I’ve never given my feelings to someone and let them care for me.” You blinked, your eyes rimmed red. “I’ve hardly been able to comprehend my own feelings because I’ve been scared shitless of them in the first place. But I can’t … I can’t justify pushing you away anymore. Because I love you. I don’t like being alone anymore and all I ever want to do is see you. Sometimes I’m afraid if I stop holding you, you’ll disappear. You do so much for me; you literally fix something on my computer everyday. I think if I let you go right now, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life, and I –”

Wonwoo cut you off by pressing his lips to yours. You couldn’t remember the last time he kissed you like this: so gently with his palm cupping your jaw. You felt yourself relax when he slipped an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His tongue licked into your mouth, sighing with relief when the familiar taste of you entered his orbit again. The taste of coffee and peppermint gum and the peanut butter and jelly you definitely had for lunch today. It was everything he loved about you, and he smiled into the kiss.

When he finally pulled away, he said, “Sorry, I interrupted your monologue.”

“It’s okay. Someone needed to before I got into the Hamlet soliloquy I prepared.”

He chuckled, grinning from ear to ear, and just that had a blush creeping to your cheeks. “I forgive you,” he whispered, leaning back in to ghost his lips all over your face. Your warm breath fanned his mouth. “Just don’t do that again. I know I don’t show it very often, but I’m secretly very …” He smiled softer this time, pecking just slightly on the corner of your mouth. “Sensitive.”

Your fingers hooked into the waistband of his sweatpants, wanting him all the more closer. “I know. I promise.” You brushed your nose over his. “If I ever ignore you for even a couple hours, you have full permission to annoy me on Slack.”

Wonwoo had to cover his mouth from letting out the loudest laugh possible, but it made you feel all the better to see him happy. You could spend forever seeing him this happy. You got up on your tiptoes just to stare at him more, to press yourself closer and feel his grin against your cheek.

But he was holding your face now, sighing down at you with a smile that almost made you swoon. “For the record,” he replied, “I love you too.”

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