#an endless desire to DO GOOD but not knowing how or what to do. And that scares him. Because if he‚ the anomaly‚ the first cosmic flaw‚

[fanatictf]

Good evening, I'm new to this… so if it wouldn't be too much trouble… Imagine a fanfic or one-shot about the Decepticons from Transformers Prime ( Soundwave and Shockwave) being yanderes with a reader with the power and abilities of Magneto from X-Men!!… I imagine that Reader's encounter with Shockwave would be witnessing Reader with his open hand controlling a helicopter making it not move and suddenly when he closes his hand into a fist, the helicopter explodes with the person inside. Or if they managed to win Reader's love, she would accompany Soundwave and Shockwave on missions… Reader would use metal pieces as shields so no attacks would touch them. Can you imagine Reader, with his power, bending a Decepticon into a square block?. It's an idea… Reader would be dangerous both as an ally and as an enemy, I mean she can control everything that is made of metal and they are made of metal!

I wait your kind response :D

I can totally do that! Also I welcome all and any ideas! I'm open to everything pretty much.

*-–°–-♠-–°–-*

Metal Tamer

Soundwave, Shockwave X Metallokinesis!Reader

TW: Murder, kidnapping

(1/2)

Next

Escape from the government was no cakewalk. You had been on the run for God knows how long, and still couldn't show your face anywhere. Didn't stop them from being able to track you down, and that made your life a living hell. All you wanted was to live in relative peace, and do what you desired. But no! You had powers the government wanted to study and use for their own benefits.

You had your hood up as you walked along the road that led to Jasper, Nevada. You moved during dusk and night where things were cool and activity was low. Made it easier to not be spotted, but luck was not your friend today. You turned your head to the sky as you heard a helicopter. You were fed up, annoyed and outraged. How can people so damn persistent!

You extend your hand in front of you. Laser focused on the helicopter and stilled it. You can feel its weight in your body. The rumble of its engine and rotor blades. You never did it at this big of scale before but you were done with them! You let out a shallow breath, and closed your fist, tight. The helicopter crumbled and then exploded from its components being crumbled with it.

"Fascinating." A monotone voice sounded behind you causing you to whip around.

You didn't have the energy to freak out. Didn't have the energy to panic and run. Exploding that helicopter definitely took a toll on your energy, you didn't notice during the moment of adrenaline rush. Maybe this was your fate. Endless running finally comes to an end, as you feel your body go numb and you're out.

═══════

You jolt awake and groan out. Your body ached all over and you were... Wait where are you? You sit up and look around. This isn't like anything you've seen before. It's all metal. Was this another government thing? Oh you are so ready to maul the next person you see!

"Finally awake," That same voice from before!

"Who are you?" You demanded, as you looked into the direction of the voice.

"Shockwave."

You froze for a moment, when you finally got a proper look at your captor. Giant cyclop with one red glowing eye. Much taller than you, and... Metal. His metal, all metal. You stood up quickly and focused on him with your hand extended. You couldn't focus though, your body ached too much.

"It would be illogical to attack me. You aren't recovered completely."

You went to bite back, but then a tendril wrapped around and lifted you up. You shrieked and struggled in the hold of the data cable. You looked over your shoulder and saw another huge robot. This one is faceless, or at least appears faceless. They lifted you up with their tendril and walked over to Shockwave.

"Soundwave." Shockwave greeted the other bot who only inclined their head slightly in return.

You stopped your struggle. You accepted you weren't going anywhere, with these two walking metal giants around. You hate to admit that Shockwave was right too. Your body still ached, and you knew as long as you hurt you can't focus on bending anything. Soundwave also was just holding you. Just tight enough that you couldn't wiggle out. Might as well get comfortable. Right?

[spiderman2-99]

Where should you be kissed?

Knuckles. it feels as though you have fought every day of your life. sometimes, you cannot even tell how much of the blood on your hands is your own... and how much comes from those who've tried to hurt those you defend. you deserve the gentleness of a kiss to your bruised knuckles and broken skin, a reminder that you are not only made of violence.

[stolen from templeofvengeance; tagging you]

[luvcaleb]

EYES ON ME.

nsfw (18+). i really did not mean for this to be a whole fic but i just kept typing. and typing. and typing... anyway, here are the usual cws: blowjob, cunnilingulus, corruption kink, praise kink, unprotected sex, marathon sex (sylus is starved), more yearning than you'd expect from a sugar daddy fic, and side note that sylus is older than you here (you decide how much lol). likes and reblogs will be very appreciated!

pov: you're a barista at the cafe sylus usually orders at and he overhears you saying you want to try being a sugar baby to make more money.

sylus generally avoids interacting with ordinary citizens. for one, they live in a separate world from him, and two, he'd rather not drag other people into unnecessary trouble.

you are no exception to this rule he placed upon himself. or at least, you should be.

but he can't help being drawn to your sunny smile, undeterred despite his intimidating appearance. he can't help but relax his shoulders when you greet him “welcome!” in a warm, gentle voice. he can't help but ask you how your day went, listen to your complaints, and chuckle fondly when you say something particularly funny.

and he can't help but notice how your sunny smile has diminished the past few weeks, weighed down by late nights and endless work juggling several part-time jobs to get by and pay the debt your father left behind.

so when he overhears you saying you want to try having a sugar daddy, he moves against his better judgment.

it's not hard to track you down in a shady site. even easier to lure you with an enticing price, better than any old, rich fool can offer.

and really, sylus doesn't plan on doing anything to you. this is somewhat like a donation, he convinces himself. that's all there is to it. he's not being possessive.

he pays you for your time. feels amused seeing you sit beside him with an almost visible question mark on your face, not knowing what to do. sure, you have a general idea what sugar babies do, but it was probably not simply watching an old romance movie while snacking on finger foods.

you think it must be some sort of foreplay, but he drives you home. the next time he calls you over, you eat together in a who-knows-how-many-stars restaurant in a tall skyscraper overlooking the city, which ends in a similar fashion. in the next, he takes you shopping and fills your closet with luxury brands, yet again ending the day with a drive to your shabby apartment.

and it's nice. it's really nice. to the point it's too good to be true. from the very beginning when you learned your client wasn't going to be an old geezer, you already thought you lucked out. but with sylus practically treating you as his girlfriend, leaving nothing to be desired, things couldn't be better. you can't even consider the possibility of being sylus's side chick that he's cheating with because there's nothing for him to gain from this arrangement. if you really think about it, sylus is basically throwing you all his money.

you think you can leave things like this. after all, you have nothing to complain about.

but on one of your gigs taking up a friend's waitress shift at a fancy restaurant, you see sylus with a woman.

they're both well-dressed. sylus always is, but now even more so with his styled hair and clean, crisp suit. the woman looks gorgeous in her champagne dress, all smooth silk and beautiful curves. the men around her can't help but stare.

he leads her to a table. pulls out her chair for her. smirks at her as they exchange friendly banter, looking like the picture-perfect couple.

a cold settles deep in your chest, even if you have no right to feel bad. you don't have the right to feel upset because it isn't like you're bound by any serious relationship.

but for the rest of the night, you try to avoid their table. you hope he hasn't taken notice of you, but that's probably wishful thinking considering you've felt an intense gaze on your back all this while.

eventually, they leave, and so do you. as you walk home, you try to dissect why you felt so awful. is it because he might cut you off now that he's interested in another woman? it must be. once he breaks off whatever you have, you're going to have a hard time finding someone else to mooch off of. you'll be back to the same old dreary lifestyle; the magic has worn off, and cinderella has to be miserable again.

but it isn't just that, even if it should be. you shouldn't feel so shitty seeing him with another girl if you only saw him as a client. somewhere along the line, you've started appreciating his quiet smiles, his teasing smirk, his kind gaze. there's something soft about his innocent touches, tucking your hair behind your ear or his thumb wiping away cake frosting on your cheek.

and you hate the idea of him doing all of that to that woman he was with.

“you should pay more attention to your surroundings, sweetheart.”

sylus interrupts your thoughts. you turn to look at the street beside you where you find sylus leaning against his car. waiting.

you hesitate only for a moment. you get in, and he drives you home. the silence is unsettlingly tense, so different from the comfortable quiet you've grown used to in your past drives.

eventually, you bring yourself to speak. “let's go to your house.”

sylus says, “i haven't asked for your services tonight.” it's soft, teasing, and most importantly, it's not a no.

the familiar manor comes into view, grand and imposing as always. he opens the car door for you. asks to carry your bag. unlocks the front door.

he drops it when you push him down the plush sofa, catching him by surprise. you've never quite seen him as stunned as he is now, stock still as you press your mouth against his. clumsy. unsure. yet eager. his fingers tangle in your hair, unmoving for just a moment, but soon he manages to tear himself away.

“i didn't ask for you to do this.”

he hasn't. he probably never intended to do this sort of thing in the first place.

but it isn't like he doesn't want to. his voice is strained. he's still holding you, as if afraid you'll pull away once you realize this is a bad idea. he's staring at you like you're the only thing that matters.

and you realize that you enjoy this attention. you like having his hands around you. you like him doting on you. you like him looking at you.

you don't want him to look at anyone else.

and, you come to realize, you want this just as much as he does.

---

there's a sense of clumsiness when you wrap your hands around his cock, hesitant and unpracticed. you seem as if you've never done this before. sylus should not be as thrilled as he feels at this discovery.

perhaps he should be a little turned off. but his dick feels the hardest it's ever been when you start giving kitten licks to his tip, innocently looking up at him through your lashes like you're asking for praise.

he murmurs filth under his breath when your lips close around his head, sucking at a spot that makes him shudder. he forces his hips to stay absolutely still even if he wants to destroy your throat. he can't afford to scare you away now. not when you're finally within his reach.

yet sylus can't help but run his hand through your hair, pulling you closer. making you take him in deeper. guiding your head as you bob up and down. you're gurgling around his cock, spit dripping from your mouth, tears in the corner of your eyes. so obviously struggling but still sucking more of him in, eager to please. you choke when his cock hits the back of your throat, and still, you hollow your cheeks, licking everywhere you could.

and that does it for him, making him finish much, much quicker than he means to. his cum fills your mouth, warm thick streams that overflow from your lips. he doesn't expect you to swallow, ready to catch with his palm, but you gulp it all down like a good girl.

sylus's chest fills with deep satisfaction. he tells you well-deserved praise as he showers your face with pecks, capturing your lips in a kiss that tastes bitter but oh so nauseatingly sweet.

he wants to reward you for being a good girl, you he pulls you to the edge of the mattress, pressing down on your thighs as he digs in. the first lick on your pretty pussy makes you yelp, legs kicking out in surprise. he gives your thighs a warning squeeze, and by the second, you're obediently staying as still as you can, whimpering to your palm.

you taste as sweet as you look, and sylus hums contently as he licks up all your slick and it never runs out. you moan so nicely for him when he laps at your clit, continuously flicking his tongue at the small bud, and you all but scream when he sucks it hard, tangling your fingers in his hair and jerking up your hips.

he doesn't complain when you ride his face, staring intently at your expression twisted in pleasure. your mouth is shaped around an ‘o’, eyes rolling back as he dares to slip his tongue inside your hole. he rubs your engorged clit with a rough thumb, fucking in and out your pussy with his tongue, groaning amidst the lewd symphony of squelches.

he hasn't planned on touching you, no. but he's thought of it countless times on nights he felt especially lonely after you left. imagined you on his lap, fondling your soft chest, playing with your cute pussy. he wondered what spots made you feel good, where you'd be sensitive. what faces you'd make when he touched them.

sylus doesn't have to wonder anymore, committing the sinful sight to memory. you've always been cute, but he thinks you're even more adorable now, squirming as he gently eases a finger inside you. you're wet enough to fit two, but it's still quite tight; it might take a while before you can take him in. he presses a reassuring kiss on your inner thigh when he finds your g-spot, telling you to stay still and be good.

so sylus spends a bit of time between your legs, adding more fingers as he laps away at your clit. at your first orgasm, he fucks you through it, not stopping his hand until the spray of cum has ceased. by the second, you've drenched his sheets and his arm, but by the way you're moaning his name almost incoherently, you don't want him to stop.

on the verge of a third, a fourth finger teasing at your entrance, you're begging him to fuck you. sylus has felt close to bursting for a while, so he doesn't complain. he rubs his cock between your wet folds, tapping at your clit with the head. slicking his cock with your juices as he marvels at how tiny you seem under him, the length of him intimidatingly massive laying on your stomach.

when he pops the tip of his cock inside, you clench around him immediately, warm and so goddamn tight. he can't slide it in one, smooth thrust; he fucks it inside bit by bit, observing your face for any signs of pain, but all he sees is a dazed, drooling slut, crying out his name and for him to put it all inside her. he shushes you, reasoning he has to be slow, but he's very well on the edge of his patience.

when his cock is halfway in, you turn into a shuddering, sobbing mess. his tip has poked somewhere sensitive, and when he grinds against it, you squirt hard, spraying cum on his abs. he laughs in disbelief, meanly rubbing tight circles on your clit to make your orgasm last longer.

once sylus has finally bottomed out, he whispers endless compliments to your ear, hands roaming around your skin. he can't stop his hips from thrusting, tirelessly fucking in and out of your soaked cunt with vigor he hasn't had in years. sylus doesn't consider himself the vocal type, but now he can't shut up about how pretty you are, how good and sweet you are for him. how nice and tight your cute pussy feels, how you're made to take in his huge cock.

he uses you the way he imagines in his dirty fantasies, like a whore he pays to bed. yet at the same time, you're his precious little princess, the one person he shouldn't hurt. the one person he should treat with utmost care. the one person that should stay untainted by the filthy world.

but you're moaning so loud, enjoying being his little slut. you want to be fucked hard and fast, fingerprints on your hips and waist. you want to be bred full of his cum and do it all over again. you want to be his.

so sylus takes you in all the ways he knows how. on your back. on your knees. on his lap. he lets you ride him, fucking up into your cunt when you get tired. he takes you against the wide, clear window panes, uncaring if someone might have seen. he fucks you while standing, holding up all of your weight, making you watch yourself on the mirror as he thrusts inside. he never once pulls out when he cums, your pussy crammed with his hot, milky loads.

you make a mess everywhere, but you don't have time to worry about it. you don't even worry about the chances of getting pregnant, being pumped full of sylus's cum. even if you did end up pregnant, sylus keeps going on and on about wanting you to be his pretty wife, that he won't let you want for nothing, that he'll provide for your every need if you'll just stay with him.

and in the face of his love, bordering on desperate obsession, you don't even know why you were ever worried about him falling for anyone else.

from the moment he laid eyes on you, he couldn't look away.

[021894s]

TANGLED DESIRES- p.sh

PAIRING: enemy!sunghoon x f!reader

SYNOPSIS: At a prestigious private school, you and Park Sunghoon are locked in a constant rivalry. During a party at your friend Karina’s, a heated argument between you two escalates into an unexpected, passionate encounter. The next morning, you wake up in his arms, forcing both of you to confront the new, complicated tension between you. As you navigate the fallout and shifting feelings, you start to question if your biggest enemy might actually be something much more.

GENRE: enemies to lovers, rich kids au

WARNINGS: smut (unprotected sex, oral sex) rivalry, hurt feelings, angst. ALL ARE OF AGE

wc: 15.4k

You attend the most prestigious school in Korea, where the sky-high tuition fees are only accessible to those born into pure wealth. This elite institution is a playground for the richest families, and your name is synonymous with success. Your family, being the owners of one of Korea’s top corporations, you seem to have everything at your fingertips—a glamorous life of luxury, an enviable social circle, and endless opportunities.

To the outside world, you’re the quintessential rich girl: impeccably stylish, effortlessly popular, and seemingly flawless. Yet beneath this polished veneer lies a different reality. Despite your privileged upbringing, you’re kind-hearted, fiercely intelligent, and deeply dedicated to everything you do. Your friend group, including Jake, Jay, Heeseung, Sunoo, Niki, Jungwon, Yuna, and Karina, forms a close-knit circle that navigates the pressures of their world together.

But there’s always been one glaring exception: Park Sunghoon. The feud between the two of you is infamous, an unspoken tension that pulses beneath the surface of your otherwise harmonious friendships. No one really knows how it started, and no one seems to care enough to unravel it. Instead, everyone just tolerates your constant bickering.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The lunch table is alive with conversation, the usual chatter amplified by the excitement of the latest gossip. Karina sits comfortably beside Heeseung, leaning into him with an easy confidence that only she can pull off. She’s in the middle of talking about her parents’ latest venture—something about opening another resort somewhere exotic—when she casually drops the bomb.

“So, they’re gone for the whole weekend,” she says, her voice loud enough to catch everyone’s attention. “And you know what that means…”

Jake perks up immediately, his eyes bright. “Party?”

Karina grins. “Obviously. Saturday night, my place. No theme this time, just show up and bring your best energy.”

Yuna claps her hands in excitement. “Finally! It’s been forever since the last one. I was starting to forget what a real party looks like.”

Jay laughs. “As if you’d ever forget. You practically live for these things.”

Yuna sticks her tongue out at him, but her smile doesn’t waver. “Guilty as charged.”

Heeseung wraps an arm around Karina’s shoulders, looking amused. “You’re not worried about your parents finding out?”

She rolls her eyes. “Please, they won’t even notice. And even if they do, what’s the worst that could happen? They’ll just buy me something to make up for being gone.”

“Must be nice,” Niki mutters, leaning back in his chair.

Sunoo nudges him with a grin. “Oh, come on, don’t act like you’re not excited. You were the first one to ask about the music last time.”

Niki shrugs, but he can’t hide his smile. “Yeah, well, only if it’s not Sunghoon’s terrible playlist again.”

You glance across the table, catching Sunghoon’s eye. He’s lounging back in his chair, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “My playlist was fine, thank you very much,” he retorts. “It’s not my fault you have no taste.”

You snort. “Please, Sunghoon, your taste in music is as bad as your taste in everything else.”

He looks over at you, eyebrow raised. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

You shrug, feigning innocence. “Nothing, just that your definition of ‘good’ is highly questionable.”

He chuckles, the sound low and irritatingly smug. “Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Karina cuts in, sensing the rising tension. “Alright, let’s not turn this into another one of your little spats. Save it for the party, okay?”

Sunghoon smirks, still looking at you. “Looking forward to it already.”

You roll your eyes but can’t resist shooting back, “Don’t get too excited, I might just ignore you all night.”

“Oh, the horror,” he replies, his voice dripping with mock terror. “How will I ever survive?”

Jay laughs, nudging Jake. “You know, one day they might actually get along.”

Jake shakes his head, grinning. “Nah, where’s the fun in that?”

Karina steers the conversation back to the party details, running through a list of essentials while Heeseung nods along, offering suggestions. “Invite whoever you want,” she says, “oh except luci, last time I caught her giving mark head in my parents bedroom, I haven’t been able to go in there since.”

You laugh and nod in agreement, trying not to notice how Sunghoon is still watching you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you wonder what’s going through his head, but then you push the thought away. Whatever it is, it’s probably nothing you need to worry about.

Karina claps her hands, bringing the attention back to her. “So, everyone’s in?”

There’s a chorus of agreement, and the table erupts into a mix of laughter and excited chatter as plans start to form. You glance over at Sunghoon one more time, catching his eye for a brief second before looking away. This party is already shaping up to be interesting… and you have a feeling that’s an understatement.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The lunch buzz still lingers in your ears as the group makes its way back across the pristine campus grounds. The sunlight reflects off the sleek, modern architecture of the school’s main building, and you can’t help but admire the way everything here seems to sparkle—like even the bricks and mortar are aware of the school's prestige.

You find yourself walking beside Karina, who’s still chatting excitedly about the party, while Heeseung stays close, throwing in a comment or two. Yuna and Sunoo are a few steps ahead, their heads bent together as they giggle over something on Sunoo’s phone. You catch Jake and Jay trailing behind, still debating something about sports cars or the best summer destinations.

Just as you’re about to reach the entrance, you feel a presence beside you. You don’t need to turn your head to know who it is; Sunghoon always manages to sidle up to you when you least expect it.

“What, are you following me now?” you ask, not breaking your stride.

He chuckles. “Oh, please. Don’t flatter yourself. It just so happens our lockers are in the same direction.”

“Right,” you drawl, rolling your eyes. “Like you don’t go out of your way to annoy me.”

He glances at you, smirk still firmly in place. “Maybe I just like seeing you get all riled up. It’s entertaining.”

You shoot him a glare, but before you can fire back a retort, the group reaches the main hallway. The chatter from the student body fills the air, a mix of excitement and post-lunch drowsiness. The smell of expensive cologne and designer perfumes lingers in the air, an unmistakable signature of the school’s elite.

Karina stops at her locker, Heeseung leaning against it with a casual arm draped over her shoulder. She turns to you, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “So, you’re coming early on Saturday, right? I need a hand setting things up.”

You nod, grateful for the distraction from Sunghoon. “Of course. I’ll be there.”

“Great!” She beams. “And maybe you can help me make sure everything stays under control. You know how things can get with this crowd.”

Heeseung laughs softly. “Good luck with that. I don’t think anyone’s ever managed to keep Sunoo and Niki under control for more than five minutes.”

As if on cue, Sunoo pops up beside you with a grin. “I heard that, Heeseung! I’m an angel, thank you very much.”

Niki appears at his side, raising an eyebrow. “An angel of chaos, maybe.”

The group laughs, and you feel the tension in your shoulders ease. It’s moments like these that make all the bickering and drama feel worth it.

But then, just as you’re about to make another comment, Sunghoon’s voice cuts through the noise. “So, Y/N,” he says casually, “what are you going to wear to the party? Let me guess… something that screams ‘trying too hard’?”

You whip your head around, narrowing your eyes at him. “And what are you planning on wearing, Sunghoon? Something that screams ‘I own everything but a personality’?”

There’s a collective gasp from your friends, followed by a chorus of laughter. Sunghoon raises his eyebrows, feigning a look of hurt. “Ouch, that one actually stung a little. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

You cross your arms, feeling a triumphant smile tug at your lips. “I’ve got plenty more where that came from. Try me.”

He leans in slightly, lowering his voice just enough that only you can hear. “Maybe I will,” he says, his eyes flicking over you in a way that makes your pulse quicken. “But you’re going to have to do better than that if you want to get under my skin.”

You’re about to retort when a voice interrupts. “Can we get through one day without you two turning everything into a competition?” Jay sighs, looking exasperated. “Seriously, it’s exhausting just watching you.”

Jake nods in agreement, though he’s grinning. “You guys need to find a new hobby. Preferably one that doesn’t involve verbal sparring in the middle of the hallway.”

You shrug, unable to resist the urge to keep poking at Sunghoon. “I’m open to suggestions, but I doubt Sunghoon has any better ideas.”

Sunghoon leans back, crossing his arms with a playful smile. “Oh, I’ve got plenty of ideas. But I think you’d be too scared to try them.”

Before you can respond, the bell rings, signaling the end of lunch. Karina groans. “Ugh, saved by the bell. I guess we’ll have to pick this up later.”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

As everyone starts to disperse to their respective classes, Sunghoon gives you one last look, a challenge in his eyes. “Don’t worry, Y/N,” he says smoothly. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

You roll your eyes, but your heart is beating just a little faster. You can’t help but wonder what exactly he’s planning… and why a part of you is actually looking forward to finding out.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The day of the party arrives with a crisp, clear sky and a hint of excitement that seems to permeate every corner of the city. You wake up early, feeling a mix of anticipation and nervous energy. Karina had texted you the night before, reminding you to come over in the afternoon to help set up for the party. You agreed eagerly, knowing that any opportunity to help would give you something to focus on and take your mind off the strange tension building between you and Sunghoon.

When you arrive at Karina’s mansion, the house is buzzing with activity. Karina’s housekeeper greets you at the door with a warm smile, directing you to the large, open-plan living area where Karina is already busy coordinating the decorations with a small army of helpers. The space is being transformed into a glamorous party venue with twinkling lights, elegant table settings, and a dance floor that looks like it’s straight out of a high-end club.

Karina spots you as soon as you walk in, her face lighting up with relief and excitement. “Y/N! Perfect timing. I’m so glad you’re here. We could use an extra pair of hands.”

You smile, rolling up your sleeves. “What can I do to help?”

Karina hands you a stack of neatly folded napkins and points towards a table covered with party favors. “Start by setting these up on the tables. I want everything to look perfect tonight.”

You get to work, organizing napkins and arranging snack trays, chatting with Karina about the last-minute details. The hours fly by as you work alongside her, the room gradually coming together into a setting that is unmistakably Karina’s style—classy, sophisticated, and just a bit over the top.

As the afternoon drifts into evening, Karina claps her hands and gathers you for a brief break. “Alright, it’s time for a quick change. You’ve been working so hard, and I want you to look as fabulous as the rest of the evening.”

You raise an eyebrow, half-teasing. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

Karina waves her hand dismissively. “you don’t want me to answer that. cmon you’re hot, why not show off a little?”

Before you can protest, Karina ushers you into her bedroom and pulls out a sleek, little black dress from her closet. The dress is short and simple with a cut that accentuates your figure without being too revealing.

“Put this on,” Karina insists, handing you the dress. “Trust me, you’ll look amazing. And don’t worry about the hair and makeup; I’ve got that covered too.”

You change quickly, admiring the way the dress fits and the way it makes you feel more confident and glamorous. When you step out of the room, Karina is waiting with a professional-looking makeup kit and a few hair tools.

As she works on your hair and makeup, she chatters away, filling the room with her usual upbeat energy. “you look sexy”

You smile at her reflection in the mirror. “Thanks, Karina. You don’t think it’s a bit much? It’s definitely more out there than I usually go for”.

Karina beams, finishing up with a final touch of lipstick. “babe there’s no such thing as too much. And who knows, maybe you’ll catch someone eye tonight,” she tells you with a wink.

With a laugh and a final look at yourself in the mirror, you feel a surge of excitement. The dress feels perfect, and the makeup and hair make you look polished and ready for the night. As you head back downstairs, you catch sight of Karina’s smile of approval, and you can’t help but feel a bit more confident about the evening ahead.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The music starts pumping through the walls as you and Karina make your way back downstairs. The final touches have been set, and the room looks like a scene straight out of a teen movie: fairy lights strung up in every corner, a couple of disco balls catching the light just right, and a dance floor that practically begs people to let loose. Karina surveys everything with a grin that stretches from ear to ear.

“See?” she says, nudging you with her elbow. “This is why I always go all out.”

You chuckle, glancing around. “Okay, okay, you were right. This does look kind of amazing.”

The doorbell rings, and Karina practically bounces on her toes. “That must be the first guests! Come on, we have to greet everyone in style.”

The two of you rush to the front door, and soon enough, your friends start streaming in. Sunoo is the first to arrive, with Niki and Jungwon right behind him. They all look ready to have the best night ever, and Sunoo immediately zeroes in on you, his eyes going wide.

“Oh. My. God. Y/N!” Sunoo exclaims dramatically, clutching his chest. “Look at you in that little black dress! Who is she?!”

You roll your eyes, fighting back a grin. “Alright, Sunoo, calm down. It’s just a dress.”

“It’s not just a dress,” Niki interjects with a grin. “It’s the dress. Who are you trying to impress tonight?”

Jungwon nudges Niki. “Yeah, spill. Is there someone you’re hoping to catch the eye of?”

You smirk, crossing your arms. “Oh, please, like I’d tell you guys even if there was.”

More of your friends arrive, and soon the room is buzzing with chatter and laughter. Jake and Jay show up not long after, both of them effortlessly cool as always. Jay immediately gets to work DJ-ing from his phone, while Jake heads to the makeshift bar, already concocting a round of mixed drinks.

Then, just as you start to relax, you see him—Park Sunghoon. He steps in, looking annoyingly good in a casual black button-down and jeans. His eyes scan the room until they find you. For a split second, he looks almost surprised, but then his trademark smirk appears.

“Well, well,” Sunghoon says as he strolls over to you, hands casually shoved into his pockets. “Look who decided to play dress-up. You got a hot date tonight or something?”

You scoff, giving him a look. “Oh, please, Sunghoon. Unlike you, I don’t have to try so hard to impress everyone.”

Sunghoon chuckles, leaning in just slightly. “Right. Because you just show up looking like that for fun?”

Before you can shoot back a retort, Karina swoops in, looping her arm through yours. “Hey, Sunghoon, quit being a troll. Y/N looks amazing, and you know it. Now go get a drink and try to be nice for once!”

He holds up his hands, his grin widening. “Alright, alright, I’ll behave... for now.”

You watch as he saunters off to join Jake at the bar, and Karina gives you a knowing look. “Don’t let him get under your skin tonight, okay?”

You nod, trying to brush it off, even though you’re still buzzing from his teasing. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good.”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The party is in full swing now—music thumping, people laughing, and the lights twinkling overhead like stars. You find yourself swept up in the fun, moving from one conversation to the next, the earlier tension with Sunghoon momentarily forgotten. You’re by the snack table, popping a few chips into your mouth when Haechan sidles up next to you with his signature grin.

“Hey, Y/N,” he says smoothly, leaning in a little closer than necessary. “Looking good tonight. That dress is seriously working for you.”

You smile at him, amused by his blatant flirting. “Thanks, Haechan. You’re not looking too bad yourself,” you reply, playing along. He’s always been a harmless flirt, and you don’t mind the attention tonight.

He grins wider, clearly pleased. “I try. But seriously, I can’t believe I’m just now noticing how stunning you are. Were you hiding this whole time or just waiting for the perfect moment to make your grand entrance?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, you know me. Always dramatic,” you joke, and he chuckles, leaning in a bit more.

“You’re full of surprises, Y/N. Makes me want to know you better,” he says, his voice dropping slightly, and you can’t help but laugh at his over-the-top delivery.

What you don’t notice is that from across the room, Sunghoon has been watching the entire interaction with a growing frown. He’s leaning against a wall, a drink in hand, his eyes narrowing as he watches Haechan lean closer to you, flashing that charming smile. His jaw tightens, and his grip on the cup becomes visibly tighter.

Heeseung, who’s been standing beside him, follows his line of sight and notices the tense look on his friend’s face. A knowing grin spreads across Heeseung’s lips as he leans over to Sunghoon, nudging him with his elbow.

“Someone looks like they’ve got their feathers ruffled,” Heeseung teases, keeping his voice low so only Sunghoon can hear.

Sunghoon scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“Sure,” Heeseung laughs. “That’s why you’ve been glaring at Haechan like you’re ready to knock that grin off his face.”

Sunghoon doesn’t respond right away, but his eyes remain fixed on you and Haechan. Heeseung watches with amusement, clearly enjoying the show.

“Just admit it, man,” Heeseung continues, his tone light. “You’re jealous.”

Sunghoon finally looks away from you, giving Heeseung a dismissive look. “I’m not jealous. I just don’t like seeing him act like a fool.”

Heeseung snorts. “Right. Because you’re so worried about Haechan embarrassing himself.” He claps a hand on Sunghoon’s shoulder. “Come on, dude, just go talk to her. Or are you afraid she’ll turn you down?”

Sunghoon shoots him a glare. “Shut up, Heeseung.”

Heeseung just laughs harder, clearly unbothered by Sunghoon’s mood. “Alright, whatever you say. But just so you know, glaring at Haechan isn’t going to do anything except make you look more obvious.”

Sunghoon doesn’t answer, but Heeseung’s words seem to hit a nerve. He turns his attention back to you, his expression unreadable, though there’s still a flicker of something in his eyes—something more than just casual interest.

Meanwhile, you’re still chatting with Haechan, completely unaware of the little drama unfolding across the room. But you can’t shake the feeling that someone’s watching you, and when you finally glance up, your eyes meet Sunghoon’s for just a second. He quickly looks away, and you can’t help but wonder what that was all about.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The party continues to buzz around you, but after a while, the noise and energy start to feel a bit overwhelming. You decide you need a break, a moment to yourself away from the chaos. Without saying anything, you slip out of the crowded living room and head toward the balcony, where the air is cooler and the music is just a muffled hum in the background.

You push open the glass doors and step outside, letting the crisp night air hit your face. It’s a welcome change from the warmth inside. You lean against the railing, taking a deep breath, trying to clear your mind. The stars are faint above the city lights, and you can hear distant sounds of traffic, a reminder of the world continuing outside this little bubble of a party.

You close your eyes for a moment, just enjoying the quiet. But then, you hear the soft sound of footsteps behind you. You turn, half-expecting to see Karina or maybe Sunoo, but your heart skips a beat when you see Sunghoon stepping out onto the balcony.

“What do you want, Sunghoon?” you sigh, not bothering to hide your annoyance.

“I could ask you the same thing” he replies, his voice closer than you expected. You feel the warmth of his body behind you, jus inches away. “Running away from the party?”

”Hardly.” You glance over your shoulder at him. “Just needed a break from all the fakes and liars inside.”

His lips curl into that familiar, infuriating smirk. “And here I thought you thrived on that type of thing. Who knew Y/N had limits?”

You roll tour eyes, turning back to the view. “Yeah, well, believe it or not I do. But you wouldn’t know anything, would you?”

Sunghoon steps closer, his breath brushing against your ear, sending an unwanted shiver down your spine. You feel a rush of heat flood your cheeks and something else you refuse to acknowledge. “You don’t know anything about me, Sunghoon. And id keep it that way if I were you.”

He laughs, a deep, rich sound that makes your skin prickle. “I think you like it when I get under your skin. Why else do you always react like this?” You scoff, turning to face him, only then realizing how close he actually was. “Maybe i’m just tired of you acting like you’re gods gift to the world. newsflash: you’re not.”

His grin widens, and he takes another step closer, invading you’re space entirely as if he wasn’t already to begin with. “Admit it.” he says, his voice dropping lower. “You like our little games. You like the way I push your buttons.”

Your heart is pounding now, and you hate that he’s right, that there’s something about him that gets to you in a way no one else does.But you refuse to five him the satisfaction of knowing it. “In your dreams,” you snap, though the breathlessness in your voice betrays you.

He reaches out, his fingers brushing your arm, and you feel a jolt of heat at the contact. “Is that so?” he whispers, his lips dangerously close to yours now, his eyes dark with challenge. “Because I think you’re lying. I think you want this as much as I do.”

Your breath hitches, and for a moment, you’re frozen, caught in his gaze. The intensity in his eyes makes your pulse race, a mix of anger and undeniable attraction. He’s so close now that you can feel his breath your lips, and before you can stop yourself, you grab his shirt, pulling him the last few inches towards you.

“Maybe I just want to shut you up,” you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper. “Then do it,” he taunts, his lips brushing against yours, almost but not quite a kiss. It’s all the encouragement you need. You close the distance, your mouth crashing against his. His hands grip your waist, pulling you closer, and you press against him, fueled by a mix of anger and desire.

The kiss is intense, a battle of wills as much as it is anything else. His lips are firm, demanding, and you meet him with equal force, neither of you willing to give an inch. Your hands move up to his hair, tugging slightly and he groans against your mouth, deepening the kiss.

You’re lost in it. Lost in him, every nerve in your body alight with sensation. His hands slide up your back, his touch sending sparks through you, and you hate how much you crave it, hate how much you want him despite everything.

You’re breathless when you finally pull back, your heart hammering against your ribs. Sunghoon’s lips are parted, his breaths coming in ragged, and his eyes are dark with something dangerous—something you know you shouldn’t be entertaining.

His hand is still on your waist, his thumb brushing the exposed skin just beneath the hem of your shirt, and you swear every nerve in your body is on fire. He leans in close, his lips grazing your ear, and his voice comes out in a low, almost pleading murmur. “Come back to my place.”

It isn’t a question, but there’s something in his tone that sends a shiver down your spine, a combination of hunger and desperation that mirrors what’s coursing through your veins. For a moment, you’re tempted—so, so tempted to just say yes and give in to whatever this is. But logic fights its way to the surface, and you pull back just enough to meet his gaze.

“Are you serious?” you ask, your voice wavering more than you’d like.

His expression doesn’t falter, his eyes locked onto yours. “Dead serious.” He swallows, his grip on your waist tightening, as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away. “I don’t want this to end here.”

You hesitate, your mind racing. This is Sunghoon—Park Sunghoon—the guy you’ve spent so long arguing with, glaring at across rooms, doing everything in your power to avoid. But there’s something different about the way he’s looking at you now, something raw and real that makes it hard to think clearly.

“I don’t know,” you say, trying to sound firm, though your resolve is crumbling by the second. “I mean… this is crazy.”

“Maybe,” he agrees, his voice still low, still laced with that edge of desperation. “But I think you like crazy.” His lips curl into a half-smile, that familiar cockiness tempered with something else, something softer.

You bite your lip, weighing your options, feeling the tension between you both—hot, magnetic, impossible to ignore. “This is a bad idea,” you whisper, though even you can hear the lack of conviction in your words.

Sunghoon steps closer, closing the distance again, his forehead almost touching yours. “Probably the worst,” he says, his breath hot against your skin. “But if you don’t say yes, I’m going to lose my mind.”

You can feel his heartbeat through his shirt, can feel how fast it’s racing, and you know he means it. Part of you is screaming to walk away, to leave now before you make a mistake, but there’s another part—a louder, more reckless part—that’s screaming for you to stay, to see where this goes.

“Just one night,” he murmurs, his lips brushing yours again, barely a kiss, just enough to make you shiver. “No strings, no expectations. Just… us.”

You close your eyes, fighting against every instinct telling you to run. But when you open them again, his gaze is still locked onto yours, and you can’t deny the heat pooling in your stomach, the way your skin tingles with every touch.

“Fine,” you breathe, barely louder than a whisper. “One night.”

His grin is immediate, but there’s relief in it too, and he closes the distance, pressing his lips to yours again, this time harder, more insistent. “Let’s get out of here,” he says against your mouth, his hand sliding to intertwine with yours, and you know there’s no going back now.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

You manage to sneak past your friends to leave Karina’s mansion, the partygoers and scattered distractions making it all that more simple.

The drive is quiet, both of you caught in your own thoughts. The city passes by in a blur of neon signs and headlights, the streets quieter than they were earlier. You steal a glance at him, watching the way his jaw clenches, the way his fingers tap against the wheel like he’s counting down the seconds.

Sunghoon pulls up to his mansion, its sprawling, modern architecture framed by towering trees and high walls that ensure absolute privacy. The wide driveway curves up to the grand entrance, where soft lights cast a warm glow over the marble steps and tall double doors. You glance around, taking in the sheer size of the place—not because it surprises you, but because you’ve never been here before.

Your own family’s estate is nothing to scoff at, but there’s a distinct style to his home—something sleek and almost understated, despite its size. You tilt your head slightly, noticing the details: the way the garden is meticulously maintained, the sharp lines of the building softened by the greenery that surrounds it. It’s impressive, in a way that’s different from what you’re used to.

He takes your hand to lead you inside, you follow him down the dimly lit corridor, decorated with family pictures and modern art that costs a fortune. He pauses at his bedroom door, his hand still holding yours, and turns to look at you one more time. “Last chance to change your mind,” he murmurs, though his thumb strokes the back of your hand, a comforting gesture.

You take a deep breath, then shake your head. “I’m not changing my mind.”

A small smile tugs at his lips. “Good,” he whispers, unlocking the door and pushing it open.

You step inside, and he follows, closing the door behind you. The space is dimly lit, warm, and there’s an unexpected coziness to it—minimalistic but comfortable. The air feels thick with everything unspoken between you.

Sunghoon turns to you, his gaze intense, and he steps closer, his hand moving up to your face, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ve been thinking about this all night,” he admits quietly, his voice almost a growl.

Your breath catches, and you feel the heat rush to your face. “Then stop talking,” you murmur, your own voice breathless.

His lips are on yours in an instant, capturing your mouth in a kiss that’s all-consuming, filled with all the tension, the want, the frustration that’s been building for so long. You kiss him back just as fiercely, hands sliding up his chest, feeling his heartbeat pounding beneath your palms.

Sunghoon's hands roamed over your body, squeezing your tits. You let out a small involuntary moan, a grunt leaving him immediately after. His lips move down to your next, trailing up and down before reaching that sweet spot right behind your ear.

It all feels to fucking good, your panties sticking to your core. He moves to sit on the edge of his bed, pulling you into his lap before catching your lips once again. His growing hardness is poking at you. “You look so fucking sexy in this little dress,” He tells you in a low tone that makes you clench around nothing, the ache between your legs growing. You start grinding on him, his hands grabbing your ass, encouraging you to keep grinding against his clothed length. “That’s it baby, grind on me, keep rubbing that pretty pussy over my cock.”

Your head is thrown back, lip in between your teeth, his words encouraging your quickening movements. “Need you so bad, Hoon,” you manage to get out.

“Yeah baby? tell me what you need.” He tells you. It’s almost embarrassing how much you wanted him. “Need your cock.” Without another word you feel his hands back on your ass, lifting you up and throwing you down on his bed. He looks up at you with mischievious eyes, hovering over you as his hands roam down the sides of your thighs to them hem of your dress. “Can i take this off?” he asks, caressing the soft, exposed skin there.

Eagerly, you nod quickly, reaching for the hem to help him pull it up and over your head. Luckily you opted for a pair of black lacy panties and opposed to your more comfortable ones. He audibly sighs and your exposed figure, “You’re so beautiful,” He tells you, his fingers working to slide your panties down your legs and tossing them to the side, revealing just how much you wanted him.

“Shit baby you’re so wet.” He leans down, placing soft, wet kisses just below your navel, dangerously close to where you wanted him most. “Hoon please,” you murmur out. He straightens out, unbuckling his belt to pull down his pants and boxers all in one go. While he wasn’t remarkably long, he made up for it in girth. You lick your lips at the sight, anticipation and heat pooling.

He pumps himself a couple times before he’s lining himself up with your entrance. He takes his time, making sure to smear your slick between your clit and his length. You feel his tip parting your folds, your breath hitching in your throat. “You ready?” his eyes meet yours for assurance. No words come out your mouth, all you do is nod.

He enters you carefully, a strong contrast from his words earlier in the night. The last thing he wants is to rush, just because of how unpatient and horny he is. You close your eyes, holding in the gasp that threatens to escape your lips. “Relax baby, I got you.”

“I know,” you breathe out. The sudden stretch has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. The burn quickly turning into a delicious one. “That’s it,” he praises you continuing to slide in until he’s nestled completely between your walls. “You take me so well,” he grunts, his length twitching inside of you.

“Fuck me, Hoon” you murmur, your walls clench around him, throwing his head back at the feeling. Before you know it he’s pulling out of you, only to smack his hips back against yours. It knocks all the oxygen out your lungs, leaving you breathless as he repeats the same action over and over again. “Fuck,” you breathe out, focusing on how good he looks above you.

You’re in a complete feeling of euphoria. Sunghoon’s skills topping those of the few guys you’ve slept with before. In that moment, all the bickering and years of back and forth leave your mind completely. The only thing closing your mind is how good him of all people is making you feel.

“Hoon… faster,” you let out, his hips snapping in a faster pace on command. Your back arches off the bed, hands grasping the sheets in small fists. He notices and reaches for them to thread his fingers through yours, pinning them above your head. “You like that baby? love how good you feel… fuck you’re so tight. Gonna make you cum so hard.”

“I’m so c-close, fuck,” you breathe out. His thrusts become messier and you know he’s close. “Cum on my cock pretty,” he grunts, hands letting go of yours to grip your hips. Clenching around him, it takes a few for pumps before you’re both coming undone. His cock twitching inside you as he fucks his cum into you.

He drops his sweaty forehead against your shoulder, quick, deep breaths meeting your skin and he comes down from his high. It takes you both a while before your breathing steadys. “You good?,” he asks you, settling on the bed beside you. “mhm,” is all you say in response, unsure as to where this leaves your relationship. It all felt to good to ignore. “Are you good?” you ask him after a moment of silence. “Better than I have in a long time.”

You’re not sure when you fall asleep. The exhaustion taking over you all at once.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The morning light filters softly through the heavy curtains, casting a gentle glow across the room. You wake to the sound of birds chirping outside, their songs a peaceful contrast to the intensity of the night before. The bed is warm, and you’re nestled comfortably under the covers, Sunghoon’s arm draped over you.

You shift slightly, the movement causing Sunghoon to stir beside you. He mumbles something incoherent, tightening his hold on you before settling back into a deeper sleep. You take a moment to just lie there, letting yourself absorb the strange, surreal comfort of the situation. There’s an odd serenity in the room, a calm that feels almost unreal given the whirlwind of emotions that led you here.

As you slowly become more aware, you gently untangle yourself from his embrace, careful not to wake him. You sit up and stretch, glancing around at the elegant room that’s now your temporary sanctuary. The soft morning light highlights the sleek lines and modern decor, giving the space an almost ethereal quality.

You slide out of bed and make your way to the bathroom, feeling a little self-conscious but determined to gather yourself. You glance at yourself in the mirror, trying to process the whirlwind of the past night. The evidence of sleep lingers in your eyes, and you smooth your hair, mentally preparing yourself for whatever comes next.

When you return to the bedroom, Sunghoon is still asleep, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. You take a moment to just watch him, the vulnerability in his expression softened by sleep. There’s a part of you that feels a pang of something—softness, maybe even affection—though you’re still trying to fully understand what it all means.

Deciding not to linger too long, you quietly gather your things and start to get dressed. You’re pulling on your clothes when you hear a rustling behind you. You turn to find Sunghoon blinking awake, his gaze immediately locking on you with a sleepy, yet intense look.

“Good morning,” he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep.

You smile softly, trying to keep things light despite the previous night's intensity. “Morning. I didn’t want to wake you.”

He stretches lazily, a smirk forming on his lips. “And here I was thinking you’d sneak out before I even woke up. Not very considerate of you, you know.”

You raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize I was supposed to tiptoe around your mansion.”

He chuckles, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Yeah, well, you should be lucky you’re not being kicked out for your unexpected visit.”

You roll your eyes, pulling on your shirt. “Oh, please. It’s not like I forced my way in. You made it pretty clear you wanted me here.”

His smirk widens. “True. And now I’m faced with the charming aftermath of our little escapade. How do you intend to handle that?”

You shrug, trying to keep your tone casual. “I think we both know this doesn’t exactly change things. We still don’t like each other. This was… a one-off.”

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “A one-off? That’s what we’re calling it now? What happened to all that intense ‘hate’ from last night?”

You narrow your eyes at him, feeling a bit defensive. “It’s complicated. We both know that. I’m just here to sort myself out.”

He stands up, stretching with a yawn. “Well, I suppose if you’re done with the morning-after drama, I should at least make you breakfast.”

You look at him skeptically. “Breakfast? You’re really pulling out the stops now?”

He gives you a mockingly hurt look. “Don’t sound so surprised. Even enemies deserve to be fed after a night like that.”

You smirk, shaking your head. “Fine. Breakfast it is. But don’t think this means I’m sticking around for a whole lot of chit-chat.”

He grins, clearly pleased with your response. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Just a quick meal and then you can be on your way.”

As he leads you to the kitchen, you both fall into a familiar rhythm, trading barbs and jabs that feel almost comfortable in their own way. The awkwardness of the night before is still there, but it’s tempered by the humor and banter that defines your relationship.

In the kitchen, Sunghoon starts pulling out ingredients, his movements confident and efficient. You watch him, feeling a strange mix of irritation and appreciation. Despite everything, there’s something almost endearing about the way he’s trying to play the gracious host.

“So, what’s the plan after breakfast?” you ask, grabbing a coffee cup and filling it. “Are we going to pretend like nothing happened, or do you have some other grand gesture in mind?”

He looks over at you with a smirk. “Maybe I’ll just enjoy the novelty of seeing you eat my food. Consider it a small victory.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a genuine smile on your lips. “Enjoy it while it lasts. I’m not here for long.”

He chuckles, placing a plate of food in front of you. “Don’t worry, I won’t be offended if you leave right after. I’m sure we’ll find new ways to annoy each other soon enough.”

You take a bite of the breakfast, shaking your head in mock exasperation. “I’ll hold you to that.”

As you eat, the tension from the night before begins to ease, replaced by the familiar dynamic of your interactions. It’s not exactly comfortable, but it’s familiar—a small reminder that despite everything, some things never really change.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The bell rings, signaling the end of the period, you gather your things and stand up, eager to leave the classroom and escape the strange tension that’s been hanging between you and Sunghoon all day. You’re heading toward the door when you feel a light tap on your shoulder. You turn around to find Sunghoon standing close, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Can I help you?” you ask, trying to keep your tone neutral.

Sunghoon leans in, his face just inches from yours. His breath is warm against your ear, and you can feel his proximity even though you try to back away slightly. “You look cute today,” he whispers, his voice low and deliberately teasing.

You freeze for a moment, your heart skipping a beat as his words sink in. You’re taken aback by the unexpected comment, feeling a rush of irritation mixed with something you can’t quite define. You quickly compose yourself, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Seriously?” you hiss, trying to keep your voice low so that no one else hears. “Now you’re trying to play nice? How pathetic.”

Sunghoon pulls back slightly, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I’m just making an observation,” he says innocently, though the amusement in his eyes betrays him.

You roll your eyes, your frustration evident. “Yeah, well, save it for someone who actually cares. I’m not in the mood for your games.”

As you turn and walk toward the door, you hear Sunghoon’s laughter behind you, light and mocking. You try to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks as you make your way out of the classroom, determined not to let him get under your skin. Despite your efforts to stay composed, his words linger in your mind, adding to the awkwardness and confusion of the day.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Lunch at school is a lively affair, with the cafeteria buzzing with the chatter of students and the clatter of trays. You and your friends—Yuna, Karina, and the rest—settle into your usual spot at the table. Sunghoon and his group are seated across from you, and you can feel his gaze lingering on you, even as you try to focus on the conversation with your friends.

Karina is mid-sentence, animatedly discussing the latest school gossip when Sunghoon's voice cuts through. “Oh, come on, Y/N. You can't actually believe that nonsense.”

You glance up, catching Sunghoon’s eyes. He’s smirking, clearly enjoying the opportunity to poke at you. “And what’s so ridiculous about it?” you retort, trying to keep your voice steady despite the irritation brewing inside you.

“Seriously?” Sunghoon’s grin widens. “It’s just a bunch of exaggerated stories. You’ve always had a knack for falling for that kind of thing.”

You roll your eyes, feeling a familiar annoyance bubbling up. “Says the guy who’s always spouting off about how everything’s ‘not worth his time.’”

Sunghoon leans back in his chair, folding his arms. “At least I don’t get caught up in every little bit of drama that comes my way.”

You scoff, crossing your arms. “I’m not the one who spends half his day looking for ways to pick fights. Maybe if you weren’t so obsessed with making everything a competition, you’d see things more clearly.”

Yuna and Karina exchange glances, trying to stifle their laughter as the two of you go back and forth. Karina nudges you playfully. “Looks like you two are back to your old routine.”

You shoot her a sidelong glance, annoyed but unable to hide a small smile. “Oh, you have no idea.”

Meanwhile, Sunghoon’s eyes are fixed on you, his smirk never fading. Every time you catch him looking, you feel a mix of frustration and unease. His gaze is unrelenting, and despite your best efforts to ignore it, you can’t help but feel self-conscious.

“What are you staring at?” you snap, catching him in the act.

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow, his expression innocent. “Just observing. Is that a problem?”

You narrow your eyes, crossing your arms. “Maybe if you had something better to do than harass me, you wouldn’t have to be so nosy.”

He chuckles, leaning forward with a teasing glint in his eyes. “Maybe I just enjoy watching you get all riled up. It’s entertaining.”

You glare at him, feeling your irritation spike. “Yeah, well, it’s not exactly a compliment.”

Sunghoon shrugs, still smirking. “Suit yourself.”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

After lunch, you head to your next class with a sense of relief, hoping to escape the tension of the cafeteria. As you settle into your seat, the classroom buzzes with the usual pre-class chatter. You glance around, hoping to avoid any more interactions with Sunghoon, but he’s in the same class, sitting a few rows behind you.

The teacher arrives, and the room quiets down as the lesson begins. You try to focus on the lecture, but the lingering effects of the lunchtime bickering keep your thoughts scattered. Every now and then, you can feel Sunghoon’s eyes on you, though you avoid turning around to confirm it.

Halfway through the class, you feel a small piece of paper land softly on your desk. You glance down to find a note with neat handwriting:

*“Can we at least pretend to be civil? I promise I’m not plotting your demise.”*

You roll your eyes, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. You scribble a quick reply:

“Why start now? It’s more fun to keep you on your toes.”

You fold the note and toss it back over your shoulder, hoping it will reach him without drawing too much attention. A few moments later, you see Sunghoon’s hand reach forward to grab it, his expression unreadable.

The rest of the class proceeds in a blur of lectures and notes. The occasional glances you and Sunghoon exchange are filled with unspoken tension, but you both manage to keep your interactions to a minimum.

At the end of your lecture, you pack up your things and make your way out of the classroom. You’re heading down the hall when you hear Sunghoon’s voice behind you.

“Hey, wait up.”

You stop, turning to see him catching up with you. He’s wearing a casual expression, though there’s a hint of seriousness in his eyes.

“Seriously? What now?” you ask, trying to keep your tone even.

Sunghoon’s gaze lingers on you, and he seems to consider his next words carefully. “So, I was thinking… why don’t you come over to my place later?”

You raise an eyebrow, puzzled. “For what? We already had our… whatever that was.”

Sunghoon gives you a knowing look, his smirk widening. “Come on, you know you’re curious. Besides, you know you want me.”

You feel a rush of heat at his words, and you try to maintain your composure. “And what happened to it being a one-night thing? Are you trying to make this a regular thing now?”

Sunghoon’s eyes twinkle with mischief. “Maybe I am. Or maybe I just want to spend more time with you. Either way, I think you’re interested.”

You hesitate, feeling the pull of his words. The desire that was ignited the night before is still burning strong, and you find yourself tempted despite your better judgment.

With a sigh, you give in, unable to resist the allure of what he’s offering. “Alright, fine. I’ll come over. But just to see what you have in mind.” Sunghoon’s smile broadens, clearly pleased with your decision. “Great. see you later.”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Later that night, you stand outside Sunghoon’s, house, or rather mansion. With a deep breath, you ring the doorbelll, and a moment later, Sunghoon opens the door. His eyes rake over you, and there’s that cocky familiar smirk on his face. “Youre here,” he says, stepping aside to let you in. There’s no hint of surprise, just a kind of smug statisfaction, like he knew you’d come.

“Yeah,” you reply, stepping inside “so what’s this all about?” Sunghoon doesn’t answer immediately. He just walks past you, heading into the foyer. You follow, your curiosity piqued, but you don’t miss the way his eyes flicker back to you with that same intent look. He turns around suddenly, before you can even process what’s happening, he’s closing the distance between you, leaning in like he’s about to kiss you.

“Woah wait,” you say quickly, pressing a hand against him firm chest to stop him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Sunghoon pauses, eyebrows raised, but there’s no real apology in his expression. “What do you think in doing?” he counters, his voice low, almost daring him to challenge you. You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the way your heart is racing. “I didn’t come here just to… you know.”

He smirks, leaning in just enough that you feel the warmth of his breath. “Then why did you come here?”

You hesitate, caught between wanting to play it cool and the undeniable pull you feel toward him. “Maybe I was curious.” Sunghoon chuckles, “You’re here because you want this, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his hand grazing your hip lightly, testing your boundaries.

You swallow hard, trying to keep your composure. “You think you know everything, don’t you?”

His smirk widens. “I know enough.” He leans in again, and this time, his lips brush against your neck, a bold move that sends a jolt of heat through you. You bite your lip, figuring the urge to melt into his touch. “I didn’t say you could—“

“Then stop me,” he challenges, his voice a whisper against your skin. Your mind races every logical thought battling against the desire that’s been simmering between you since the other night. You hate how easily he gets under your skin, how is arrogance is both infuriating and strangely alluring. But instead of pushing him away, you find yourself lingering, testing the r limits just like he is.

“You’re infuriating,” you mutter, half annoyed, half breathless. He pulls back just enough to look you in the eye, his expression smug but hungry. “Yet I don’t see you walking away.”

You hate that he’s right. Instead of anything else, you meet his gaze head on, feeling that dangerous spark between you flicker into something more. “Just shut up and kiss me,” you say, finally giving in, if only to wipe that smug look off his face. And he does—without hesitation, with the kind of intensity that makes your head spin. It’s heated, unrestrained, and nothing like you imagined, and yet somehow it’s exactly what you wanted.

With a frustrated sigh, you put a hand on his chest and push him back a step. “Okay, seriously, what is this?” you demand, trying to keep your tone steady. “We can’t just keep… doing this whenever we feel like it. It’s stupid.”

He raises an eyebrow, looking way too amused for your liking. “Why not? You look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

You shoot him a glare. “Don’t flatter yourself. I just… I don’t want this to get messy.”

He smirks, clearly entertained by your struggle. “Messy? You mean you don’t want people to know you like kissing me?”

You scoff, crossing your arms. “I don’t like anything about you, Sunghoon. But if we’re being honest, there’s… something here, and I don’t see it going away anytime soon.”

His grin widens, and you want to slap it right off his face. “So, what? You’re proposing a deal?”

You roll your eyes. “Maybe. Friends with benefits. No strings attached, no drama, no catching feelings.”

Sunghoon chuckles, but there’s an edge to it. “Friends? I don’t think we’re even close to that.”

“Fine,” you snap, annoyed that he’s right. “Enemies with benefits then. Just… an arrangement. To get this out of our systems.”

His gaze darkens, and for a second, you think you see something flicker there, something unreadable. But then he leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear. “And what makes you think I’d agree to that?”

You raise your chin, meeting his challenge head-on. “Because you want this just as much as I do. Maybe more.”

He pauses, his lips curling into a slow, wicked smile. “Okay, I’ll bite,” he says, his voice low. “But here’s the deal: we do this my way. No whining, no complaining, and you definitely don’t get to pretend you don’t want it.”

You scowl, hating how cocky he looks, how certain he is that you’ll cave. “Fine,” you bite back. “But don’t think for a second that this means I like you.”

He laughs, the sound rich and mocking. “Trust me, I’d hate it if you did.”

You feel your blood boil at his arrogance, but there’s a thrill in it too, in the way you both seem to enjoy this game. “Deal,” you snap, holding out your hand.

He takes it, but instead of shaking, he pulls you in closer, his lips just inches from yours. “Just remember,” he murmurs, his eyes locked on yours, “this doesn’t change anything. I still can’t stand you.”

You smirk, matching his intensity. “Right back at you.”

And before you know it, his lips are crashing against yours again, and all that frustration and anger blurs into something reckless and wild. For now, you’ll play his game, but you know this is far from over.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Over the next few weeks, the “arrangement” with Sunghoon becomes a twisted game of secrecy and tension. You find yourself sneaking glances in class, meeting him in darkened hallways between periods, and exchanging heated looks across crowded lunch tables. The two of you are constantly dancing on the edge of discovery, and it’s becoming harder to hide the intensity simmering between you.

It starts small. The accidental brush of fingers when passing by in the hallway, the way his eyes linger a little too long when you’re speaking. But then, it escalates. The stolen moments between classes turn into late-night texts and spontaneous meetings wherever you can find some privacy. Empty classrooms, deserted stairwells, even the back of the library—places where no one would think to find the two of you together. The more time passes, the harder it gets to keep up the charade.

You’re starting to notice the way his friends glance between you two, confused by the sudden silences or the shared looks you forget to hide. Jay catches you one morning when you’re walking out of the library with Sunghoon following a few steps behind, your hair slightly mussed, your lips redder than usual.

“What’s going on there?” he asks, a teasing grin spreading across his face. “You and Sunghoon plotting world domination or something?”

You laugh it off, rolling your eyes. “Please. He’s too much of an idiot for that.”

But Jay looks unconvinced, his gaze flicking back to where Sunghoon is standing, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, watching you with a smirk that’s all too knowing. “Sure,” Jay says, dragging out the word like he’s not buying it.

At lunch, it’s even worse. Sunghoon sits across from you, his foot nudging yours under the table. It’s subtle, but it’s enough to send a jolt up your spine. You kick him back, hard, and he just chuckles, leaning back in his chair like he’s thoroughly enjoying the game.

“What are you two whispering about?” Yuna asks, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. You’re both quick to cover it up, but it’s obvious that your friends are starting to catch on.

“Nothing,” Sunghoon says smoothly, his voice annoyingly casual. “Just telling Y/N that she looks like she needs more sleep. Those dark circles are really showing.”

Your jaw clenches, but you force a sweet smile, playing along. “Oh, don’t worry about me. I’ll sleep just fine once I stop seeing your face every day.”

He grins, but there’s a flicker of something more heated in his eyes, something you recognize all too well. “Yeah, right.”

Karina frowns, sensing the tension that seems to hang in the air whenever you two are in the same room. “Seriously, what is up with you guys?” she asks, tilting her head.

You wave it off, laughing a little too loudly. “We’re just being our usual selves. You know how it is—can’t stand each other.”

But your friends are starting to notice the little things. The way Sunghoon’s gaze always seems to drift in your direction, the way you keep sneaking out of group study sessions with flimsy excuses, only to return looking flustered and breathless. Sunoo even catches you and Sunghoon exchanging hushed words in the corner of the hallway, too close for comfort, and he raises an eyebrow, a mischievous grin forming on his lips.

“Are you two planning a secret mission, or is there something else we should know?” he asks, his tone playful but probing.

Sunghoon just shrugs, but you can feel his eyes on you, daring you to say something. “No mission,” he replies coolly, “unless it’s trying to survive Y/N’s terrible attitude.”

You force a laugh, but the heat in your cheeks gives you away. “Yeah, well, some of us have better things to do than deal with you, Sunghoon.”

But it’s getting harder to pretend, harder to keep the fire between you from spilling over in front of everyone else. Every time he’s near, it feels like the world narrows down to just the two of you, a constant push and pull that’s impossible to ignore. The stolen kisses, the midnight texts, the moments of heated bickering that seem to blur into something more—it’s becoming too much to hide.

And it’s only a matter of time before someone figures it out.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

You grip the sheets of your bed, lip caught between your teeth as sunghoon is under your duvet, tonguing your wet entrance, heat pooling in your belly, felling the intensity of your orgasm creeping up on you.

It’s all cut short when your door bursts open without warning, and Karina barges in, her voice already raised. “Y/N, I swear I’m going to lose my mind—!”

You freeze, your heart stopping in your chest. “Karina!” you squeak, quickly yanking the sheets up to your chin. “What happened to knocking?”

Karina stops mid-rant, blinking at you. “Oh, come on, like I ever knock?” she scoffs, throwing her hands up in frustration. “Anyway, you will not believe what Heeseung just did—”

She’s moving closer to the bed, and you panic, shifting slightly to keep Sunghoon hidden beneath the covers. You can feel him tense up, and his hand slips to your thigh under the sheets, pinching you playfully. You bite your lip to stifle a gasp, kneeing him as a warning.

Karina continues her rant, oblivious. “I mean, he had the nerve to ditch me for practice again, and I’m just—ugh, I needed to vent to someone who understands!”

Your mind races, desperately trying to keep her attention away from the suspicious lump between your legs. “That sounds… really frustrating,” you say, a bit too brightly. “But maybe just, you know, talk to him?”

Karina flops down on the edge of your bed, dangerously close to Sunghoon’s concealed figure. “Oh, I’ll talk to him, alright. I’m just so sick of his stupid excuses—”

Sunghoon’s fingers press into your clit under the sheets. He’s grinning, enjoying the situation far too much. You jab him again, your heart racing.

Karina glances at you, finally noticing your tense posture. “Are you okay? You’re acting weird,” she says, her brows furrowing.

You force a laugh, your voice too high. “I’m fine! Just… woke up. Didn’t expect you to burst in like that.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Since when do you care if I burst in? And why are you so… red?”

You feel the heat creeping up your neck. “Uh, just… hot in here,” you stammer, shifting to keep Sunghoon completely out of sight.

Karina looks like she’s about to press further, but then she sighs, clearly more focused on her Heeseung drama. “Whatever, I just needed to get that off my chest. He drives me insane!”

You nod quickly. “Yeah, I get it. He’s… Heeseung, you know?” Karina gives you a small smile, her frustration easing. “Thanks for listening. And seriously, you look so weird right now.”

You laugh nervously. “Yeah, just tired.”

Finally, she stands up, heading toward the door. “Alright, I’ll leave you to… whatever you were doing. I’m gonna go call him and give him a piece of my mind.”

You nod eagerly. “Good luck with that!”

As soon as she leaves, you exhale in relief, lifting the cover to eye Sunghoon, who’s still grinning like an idiot. “What?” he whispers, amused.

“What?” you repeat, incredulous. “You almost got us caught, that’s what!”

He chuckles, pulling you back down under the sheets. “Relax. She didn’t notice a thing.”

You roll your eyes, but your heart is still racing from the close call. “You’re lucky,” you mutter.

Sunghoon just leans in closer, his lips brushing your cheek. “You love the thrill,” he murmurs.

And damn it, you hate that he’s right.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

It's late, the night air cool against your skin as you lean against the wall outside the school building, waiting for Sunghoon. You don't even know why you agreed to meet him here. Maybe because he seemed so insistent, or maybe because a part of you wanted to see him, even though you’d never admit it.

He arrives moments later, his footsteps heavy as he approaches. There’s a different energy about him tonight—something serious, something intense. His usual smirk is nowhere to be found, and his hands are shoved deep into his pockets. He stops in front of you, a little too close, and you have to tilt your head up to meet his eyes.

“What’s this about?” you ask, trying to sound casual, though your heart is pounding in your chest.

He doesn’t answer right away, his gaze boring into yours like he’s searching for something, something he can’t quite find. You shift on your feet, uncomfortable under his scrutiny.

“Sunghoon?” you prompt, your voice wavering just slightly.

He finally speaks, his tone lower than usual. “I’ve been thinking… about us,” he says, the words almost hesitant, like he’s testing them out.

You blink, caught off guard. “Us?”

He nods, his expression serious. “Yeah, Y/N, us. You and me… whatever this is.”

You swallow hard, trying to keep your face neutral. “I thought we agreed it’s nothing,” you reply, but your voice comes out softer than you intended.

Sunghoon’s eyes narrow, frustration flashing in his gaze. “Yeah, that’s what we said,” he agrees, “but it doesn’t feel like nothing to me anymore.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you feel a lump forming in your throat. You’ve never seen him like this—so open, so exposed. “Sunghoon, I don’t know what you’re getting at,” you say carefully.

He takes a step closer, his expression more intense. “I’m saying that I’ve caught myself… thinking about you. A lot. When you’re not around, I’m wondering what you’re doing, who you’re with. I hate that it bothers me when I see you talking to other guys, and I can’t stand the idea of you being with anyone else.”

You feel a wave of panic rising in your chest. This is too much, too fast. You press your back harder against the wall as if trying to create more distance between you. “Sunghoon, this was never supposed to be serious,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I know, and I tried to keep it that way. But every time I see you, every time we’re together… I can’t help it. I don’t want to help it.”

You shake your head, refusing to let his words sink in. “You don’t mean that,” you insist, more to yourself than to him. “You’re just saying this because it’s… new or whatever. It’ll pass.”

Sunghoon’s jaw clenches, and he moves even closer, leaving barely any space between you. “No, Y/N, it won’t. I’ve tried to stop feeling this way, but I can’t. And I know you feel something too, even if you won’t admit it.”

Your pulse quickens, and you feel your resolve starting to crumble. “I don’t—” you begin, but he cuts you off.

“Stop lying,” he says firmly, his voice carrying a hint of desperation. “You’re scared, I get it. But don’t pretend like this is all just a game to you.”

You feel a flash of anger, your defenses rising. “What if it is, Sunghoon? What if I don’t want anything more than what we already have?”

His expression falters for a moment, a flicker of hurt crossing his face. “Then I guess I’ve made a mistake,” he murmurs, taking a step back.

You feel a pang in your chest, a sharp, unexpected ache. “Sunghoon…”

He shakes his head, cutting you off. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

For a second, you want to reach out, to say something, anything, to make that look on his face go away. But the fear of letting your guard down, of admitting that he might be right, keeps you silent.

He takes another step back, his expression hardening. “I won’t bother you about it again,” he says, his voice cold. “Let’s just go back to pretending like none of this ever happened.”

You nod, though you feel a tightness in your throat. “Yeah, let’s do that,” you say quietly, even though your chest aches with a feeling you don’t want to name.

Sunghoon turns and walks away, and you’re left standing there, the cool night air biting at your skin. You watch him go, feeling something inside you break just a little, and you wonder if maybe you’ve made a mistake too.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The next morning at school, everything feels heavier. The halls are crowded, but it’s like there’s a spotlight following you, and you can’t shake the feeling that everyone knows. You make your way to your locker, avoiding eye contact with anyone, especially Sunghoon.

You don’t see him at first, but you feel him—his presence looming in the periphery. It’s like he’s everywhere, watching you, and it makes your skin prickle with nerves. You busy yourself with rearranging your textbooks, trying to calm the storm inside your head.

“Hey, Y/N,” Karina chirps, appearing beside you. Her usual bright smile is there, but her eyes are curious, searching your face. “Are you okay? You seemed a little… off yesterday.”

You force a smile, gripping your locker door tighter than necessary. “Yeah, just tired, I guess.”

She studies you for a second longer, then nods. “Well, you should have come to dinner with us last night. It was a total mess, as always, but fun.”

You nod absently, not really listening. Your eyes flick over Karina’s shoulder and catch Sunghoon’s gaze across the hallway. He’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching you with an unreadable expression.

“Y/N?” Karina prompts, bringing your attention back to her. “You’re zoning out again.”

“Sorry,” you mumble. “Just a lot on my mind.”

Karina glances over her shoulder, following your line of sight. Her brow furrows slightly. “You’ve been weird around Sunghoon lately,” she remarks. “Did something happen?”

Your heart skips a beat, and you quickly shake your head. “No, nothing. Why would you think that?”

She shrugs, unconvinced. “I don’t know… Just a feeling.”

You’re saved from having to respond when the bell rings. You grab your books and make a beeline for your next class, trying to ignore the heat of Sunghoon’s stare burning into your back.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Class drags on painfully. You can’t focus. Your mind is a whirlwind of confusion and annoyance. You thought sneaking around with Sunghoon would be fun, a game—a way to blow off steam. But now it’s getting messy, and you’re starting to feel the consequences.

When the bell finally rings, you bolt out of the classroom, desperate for fresh air. But as soon as you turn the corner, you’re yanked into an empty hallway.

Sunghoon.

His grip on your arm is firm, and his eyes are intense, searching yours. “We need to talk,” he says, his voice low.

You pull your arm free, glaring at him. “What’s there to talk about, Sunghoon? We agreed this was supposed to be casual. No strings, remember?”

He frowns, clearly irritated by your tone. “Yeah, but it doesn’t feel like that anymore, does it?”

You cross your arms over your chest, trying to steady your breathing. “That’s because you’re making it weird. Just… back off a little, okay?”

Sunghoon’s jaw clenches, and he takes a step closer. “Back off? You’re the one acting all paranoid, Y/N.”

“Maybe because you won’t stop staring at me like everyone else can’t see it!” you snap back, your voice rising. “This was supposed to be simple. But you’re turning it into something… complicated.”

He scoffs, a humorless smile tugging at his lips. “Maybe because it is complicated. Or have you not noticed?”

You hate the way your chest tightens at his words, the way his closeness makes your heart race. “Don’t do this, Sunghoon,” you warn, your voice quieter, more vulnerable than you’d like.

He pauses, his gaze softening just for a second. “Do what?”

“Make this more than it is,” you whisper, feeling a knot form in your throat. “Because I can’t… I won’t.”

Sunghoon’s expression hardens again, and he leans back, crossing his arms defensively. “Fine,” he mutters. “If that’s how you want it.”

You swallow, forcing yourself to stay composed. “Yeah. It is.”

He nods curtly, stepping away, his face unreadable. “Good. See you around, then,” he says before turning on his heel and walking away, leaving you standing in the empty hallway with your heart in your throat.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The next few days are torture. Sunghoon keeps his distance, and you tell yourself it’s for the best. But every time you see him, every time you catch his eyes across the cafeteria or in class, there’s a hollow ache in your chest that you can’t ignore.

Your friends notice the tension. They ask questions, but you shrug it off, pretending everything’s fine. But you can’t stop replaying your last conversation with Sunghoon, the way his face looked when you told him to back off. You hate how much you miss him, even if you’d never admit it to anyone, especially not to him.

One afternoon, as you’re walking to your car after school, you spot him leaning against a tree nearby, talking to some girl you don’t recognize. He’s smiling, that same smile that used to be reserved for your private moments. Something sharp twists in your chest, and you quickly look away, anger flaring up.

He catches your glance and, for a moment, his smile falters. But then he leans in closer to the girl, laughing at something she says, and your stomach churns with a mix of jealousy and frustration.

You grip your bag tighter, feeling a sting behind your eyes. This is exactly why you didn’t want things to get complicated. You turn away, refusing to look back.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Sunghoon avoids you. He’s usually the first one to shoot a teasing remark your way, but he’s silent. The hallways feel strangely empty without his usual jabs, and your friends are starting to notice the shift between you two.

“Are you guys fighting again?” Karina asks, as the two of you walk to lunch. Her tone is half-exasperated, half-amused, but you know she’s genuinely curious. “You and Sunghoon, I mean. There’s definitely more tension than usual.”

You shrug, trying to seem indifferent, but your stomach twists with anxiety. “When aren’t we fighting?” you mutter.

She gives you a knowing look, but thankfully doesn’t push it further. You’re not sure how much more of this you can take without your feelings bubbling over. You’re determined to get through lunch without letting Sunghoon get under your skin, but when you enter the cafeteria, you spot him immediately.

He’s at your usual table, talking to Heeseung, but his gaze is elsewhere. The second you walk in, his eyes find yours, and there’s a fleeting moment of something unreadable in his expression. A flash of frustration? Longing? You can’t be sure.

You take a deep breath and head over, sliding into your usual seat. Karina sits next to you, and for a moment, everything feels normal. But then Sunghoon starts talking.

“So,” he says, his tone casual but his eyes locked on you, “Heeseung, heard you and Karina had another spat. What was it this time? You didn’t say ‘I love you’ enough?”

Heeseung rolls his eyes, but Karina just laughs, lightly smacking Heeseung’s arm. “Don’t listen to him, babe. He’s just deflecting from his own issues,” she teases.

Sunghoon smirks, but there’s no real humor in it. “I don’t have issues, Karina. Just people who like to make things complicated,” he says, glancing at you.

You feel your face heat up, irritation boiling over. “Oh, please,” you snap back. “Like you’re the picture of simplicity.”

He leans back in his chair, his eyes glinting with challenge. “Never said I was. But at least I’m honest about it.”

Your chest tightens. “Honest?” you scoff. “You’ve been playing games from the start, Sunghoon.”

He shrugs, feigning indifference. “Maybe I have. But at least I know what I want.”

His words send a jolt of electricity through you, and you clench your jaw, trying to keep your composure. “And what’s that, exactly?”

He leans forward, his voice dropping low so only you can hear. “You. But you already knew that.”

Your heart skips a beat. For a second, you’re frozen, caught between wanting to slap him and… something else. Something you’re not ready to face.

“You’re such a—” you start, but before you can finish, Sunghoon’s foot nudges yours under the table, and your breath hitches.

You’re hyper-aware of the table between you, the curious glances from your friends, and the heat creeping up your neck. Sunghoon’s gaze is still on you, challenging, waiting for your response.

You can’t help the retort that slips out. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

He shrugs with a small grin. “More than you know.”

Before you can shoot back another insult, heeseung cuts in, oblivious to the tension. “Okay, what is happening between you two? I feel like I missed an entire chapter here.”

Sunghoon doesn’t even glance at Heeseung. “Nothing’s happening. Right, Y/N?”

“Right,” you reply, forcing a smile, but your voice sounds strained, even to your own ears.

Heeseung and Karina exchange a look, clearly unconvinced. “Sure, whatever you say,” Karina murmurs with a smirk. “Just remember, denial isn’t just a river in Egypt.”

Sunghoon’s lips twitch in amusement, and he finally looks away, leaning back in his chair as if nothing happened. But under the table, his foot is still lightly brushing against yours, sending sparks up your leg.

You bite the inside of your cheek, determined not to let him see how much he’s getting to you.

But you can’t help it—the sensation, the frustration, and the undeniable attraction between you are all mixing into one chaotic storm.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The bell rings, signaling the end of lunch, and everyone begins to gather their things. You stand, trying to shake off the tension still lingering between you and Sunghoon, but Karina has other ideas.

“Hey, Y/N,” she calls, grabbing your arm just as you’re about to head out. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

You nod, feeling a knot form in your stomach. She leads you to a quieter corner of the hallway, away from the crowd. You can tell by the look on her face that she’s not letting this go.

Karina crosses her arms, tilting her head slightly. “Okay, seriously,” she starts, her voice low but pointed. “What the fuck was that back there?”

You blink, trying to feign ignorance. “What was what?”

She rolls her eyes. “Don’t play dumb with me. You and Sunghoon… there was some serious tension at lunch. It was like watching a live soap opera, and I feel like I’ve missed a few episodes.”

You sigh, glancing around to make sure no one is listening in. “It’s nothing, Karina,” you insist, but even to your own ears, it sounds unconvincing.

Karina raises an eyebrow. “Nothing? Really? Because from where I was sitting, it looked like something. A big something.”

You bite your lip, unsure of how much to tell her. “Look, we… we just don’t get along. You know that.”

“Yeah, but this felt different,” she replies, not letting up. “Like, I don’t know, it almost seemed like… there was something more there.”

Her words hit a little too close to home, and you feel your cheeks heat up. “You’re imagining things,” you say quickly, but Karina’s not buying it.

She leans in closer, her expression turning more serious. “Y/N, I’m your best friend. I know when something’s up. And that? That was definitely something.”

You hesitate, torn between the urge to confide in her and the fear of admitting the truth. “It’s complicated,” you finally admit, your voice barely a whisper.

Karina’s eyes widen with intrigue. “Complicated how?”

You swallow hard, looking away. “I don’t even know how to explain it. We’ve just… been hanging out a little more lately. And things got… weird.”

“Weird how?” she presses, clearly not letting this go.

You take a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “We’ve been… hooking up,” you confess, your voice almost inaudible.

Karina’s mouth falls open in shock. “Wait, what? You and Sunghoon?” She looks like she doesn’t know whether to laugh or gasp. “Since when?”

“A few weeks,” you admit, feeling a strange mix of relief and anxiety now that the secret is out.

Karina blinks, taking a moment to process. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“I didn’t think it would last this long,” you say defensively. “I thought it was just going to be a one-time thing, but then… it wasn’t.”

Karina’s expression softens slightly. “And how do you feel about it? About him?”

You shrug, trying to appear nonchalant. “I don’t know. It’s confusing. Half the time, I can’t stand him. The other half… well, you saw how lunch went.”

Karina lets out a small laugh. “Yeah, I did. It’s like you two can’t decide whether you want to kill each other or… not.”

You groan, leaning back against the wall. “That’s exactly how it feels.”

Karina nudges you with her elbow. “Just be careful, okay? Sunghoon’s not exactly known for being straightforward with his feelings.”

You nod, appreciating her concern. “I know. Trust me, I’m not expecting anything… much. It’s just… whatever it is.”

Karina gives you a knowing smile. “Alright, but just remember, I’m here if you need to talk. Or, you know, if you need me to kick his ass.”

You laugh, feeling some of the tension ease. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

As you walk back to class, you feel a little lighter, but also more uncertain than ever. Because now that Karina knows, it feels more real. And that scares you more than you’d like to admit.

You pause for a moment, letting your thoughts catch up to your racing heart. Sunghoon had admitted it first, hadn't he? In his own cryptic way, he’d confessed he wanted more than just the back-and-forth, more than just the thrill of the chase. You remember the way he looked at you that day, his eyes full of frustration and something else — something softer, something you weren’t ready to face.

He’d said he wanted you. He’d practically dared you to deny that you wanted him, too. And ever since, you’ve been trying to convince yourself that it didn't matter — that it was just some passing thing, some fling to fill the boredom. But it wasn't. It never was.

You sigh deeply, leaning back against the wall of the building. The memory of his words still lingers like a brand on your skin: "I want you." It had sounded so simple when he said it, so sure. Like he wasn’t afraid of the mess that came with it.

You’ve been too afraid to admit it to yourself, but now… now it feels like you’ve been fighting a battle that’s already lost.

He confessed his feelings first, but you’ve been holding back, afraid to let yourself feel the same. Afraid of what it might mean, of how it could change things between you. You thought you could control it, could manage the situation and keep your distance, but all you’ve managed to do is dig yourself deeper into this mess.

You’re tired. Tired of fighting your own heart, tired of pretending you’re unaffected. Tired of feeling like you're caught in this tug-of-war between desire and denial.

*He’s already put himself out there,* you remind yourself. *He made the first move.* And that thought alone is enough to push you forward, to make you realize that maybe it’s your turn now. Your turn to decide if you want to keep running or if you’re brave enough to let yourself fall.

Pushing off the wall, you feel a wave of determination settle over you. If you’re going to do this, you need to find him and be honest. Not just with him, but with yourself.

Because you don’t want to keep this back-and-forth going, this constant dance of pushing and pulling. You want to know where you stand — with him, and with whatever this thing between you is becoming.

You take a deep breath and start walking, knowing exactly where to find him. And this time, you’re not going to let him get away without an answer.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

You find Sunghoon by the lockers, leaning against the metal with that typical nonchalant pose he seems to have perfected. His head is tilted down, focused on his phone, but he looks up as you approach, sensing your presence. His eyes flicker with surprise for just a moment before his usual guarded expression returns.

“What do you want?” he asks, his voice laced with that familiar arrogance, but there’s something else there, too—an undercurrent of curiosity, maybe even hope.

You don’t bother with pleasantries. “We need to talk,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. You try to sound firm, but even you can hear the slight waver in your voice. Sunghoon raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued.

“Oh, so now you want to talk?” he retorts, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “After avoiding me all day?”

You roll your eyes, feeling the tension bubble up again. “I wasn’t avoiding you,” you snap, even though you both know it’s a lie. “I just needed… time to think.”

He straightens up, slipping his phone into his pocket. “Think about what?” he asks, and his tone is a little softer now, less mocking.

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of your next words pressing down on you. “About this. About us,” you say, your voice steadier now. “I’m tired of all this back and forth, Sunghoon. I’m tired of pretending like there’s nothing between us when we both know there is.”

His eyes search yours, and for a moment, his guard slips. “I told you how I felt,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re the one who kept pretending it was just… nothing.”

You feel a pang of guilt twist in your stomach. “I know,” you admit, meeting his gaze head-on. “And I was wrong. I thought I could just… push it away, ignore it. But I can’t. Not anymore.”

Sunghoon’s expression softens, just a little. “So what are you saying?” he asks, his voice careful, as if he’s trying not to hope too much.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to stay honest. “I’m saying… I want to figure this out. I want to try… whatever this is between us. But I need you to be real with me, Sunghoon. No more games.”

He takes a step closer, closing the distance between you, and you can feel your heart pounding in your chest. “I’ve been real,” he says, his voice low and intense. “I’ve been real since that night at Karina’s party, and I’ve been waiting for you to catch up.”

You’re taken aback by the sincerity in his words, by the way his eyes seem to bore into yours like he’s trying to see into your very soul. “I’m here now,” you reply, your voice barely a whisper.

Sunghoon takes another step closer, and now he’s right in front of you, his breath warm on your skin. “So what do you want?” he murmurs, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair from your face. “Do you want me, or are you still trying to convince yourself you don’t?”

Your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, you’re not sure what to say. But then you realize you’ve known the answer all along. “I want you,” you admit, your voice steady, finally letting the truth slip past your lips. “But I don’t want to keep pretending like it’s nothing. I want to try… something real. But I don’t want it to be this constant push and pull, Sunghoon. I can’t keep doing that.”

Sunghoon’s lips curl into a small, almost relieved smile. “Then let’s stop playing games,” he says softly, leaning in closer. “Let’s see where this goes, no more pretending. Just you and me.”

You feel a strange sense of relief wash over you at his words, a weight lifting from your chest. “Okay,” you whisper, and it feels like the most honest thing you’ve said in a long time.

His smile widens just a fraction, and he closes the final distance between you, his lips brushing against yours in a way that feels both familiar and new. It’s not the frantic, heated kisses you’ve shared before—it’s slower, deeper, filled with a promise of something more.

And for the first time, you feel like you’re finally on the same page. Finally moving in the same direction.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Over the next few weeks, things between you and Sunghoon change in ways you never could have anticipated. At first, it’s subtle — small shifts that only the two of you notice. You spend more time together between classes, sitting closer at lunch, and texting late into the night. The playful bickering is still there, but it’s softened somehow, more like an inside joke than a battle.

Your friends don’t notice at first. They’re used to seeing you and Sunghoon together, arguing about this or that, so the extra time you spend with him doesn't raise any immediate red flags. But eventually, the signs become too obvious to ignore.

One day at lunch, you’re sitting next to Sunghoon, your legs brushing under the table. His hand casually rests on the back of your chair, his thumb occasionally grazing your shoulder. Jay, seated across from you, narrows his eyes, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Okay, what’s going on?” he asks, his tone teasing but his eyes curious.

You glance over at Sunghoon, who just smirks. “What do you mean?” you reply, trying to sound nonchalant, but you can feel the flush creeping up your neck.

Jay gestures between the two of you. “This,” he says, waving his hand. “You two. You’re being weird. Weird even for you two.”

Karina, who’s been listening in, gasps. “Oh my god,” she says, her eyes widening with realization. “Are you guys… together?”

The table goes silent for a second, everyone turning to look at you. Sunoo’s eyebrows shoot up, and Jake leans forward, looking like he’s trying to solve a particularly complicated math problem.

Sunghoon leans back, crossing his arms over his chest with a grin. “Depends,” he says casually. “What do you think?”

You elbow him in the side, rolling your eyes at his vague answer. “Yes,” you say, looking at your friends. “We’re… together. Kind of.”

“Kind of?” Sunghoon echoes, feigning offense, and you shoot him a playful glare.

“Yes, kind of!” you insist, turning back to your friends, who are now staring at you like you’ve just revealed you’re secretly an alien. “It’s… new.”

Heeseung chuckles. “I mean, I’m not totally surprised,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “You two have been like a powder keg waiting to explode for years.”

Yuna nods eagerly. “Honestly, it was about time,” she adds, and you can’t help but laugh at her bluntness.

Jungwon, however, looks mildly concerned. “So, you’re serious?” he asks, glancing between you and Sunghoon. “Like, actually serious?”

Sunghoon looks at you, his smile softening just a bit, and he nods. “Yeah,” he says, and there’s a sincerity in his voice that makes your heart skip a beat. “We’re serious.”

Your friends take a moment to process this. Then Jake grins. “Alright,” he says, raising his glass of soda. “To Y/N and Sunghoon. The enemies-to-lovers arc we didn’t know we needed.”

You laugh, and everyone joins in, raising their glasses. It’s strange, in a way, seeing everyone so quickly accept what feels like a massive shift in your life. But it also feels… right.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Over the next few days, things become more obvious. You and Sunghoon are no longer trying to hide. He reaches for your hand in the hallways, and you let him. He kisses you on the cheek in front of the others, and they pretend to gag but smile knowingly when they think you’re not looking.

You catch Karina’s eye one afternoon, and she gives you a grin that’s part smug, part excited. She leans over, whispering, “So… you finally admitted you like him, huh?”

You smile, shrugging a bit. “Guess so,” you say, and she laughs, nudging you with her elbow.

The hardest part, strangely enough, is getting used to the change yourself. It’s still weird to not have to hide how you feel, to be able to smile at Sunghoon without wondering if anyone is watching. But with each passing day, it gets a little easier.

And it’s not like everything is perfect. You and Sunghoon still argue — of course, you do. That’s just how you are. But there’s something different now, something that feels less like anger and more like… passion. Like you’re both on the same side, even when you’re bickering.

There are moments when you catch him looking at you from across the room, a small smile on his lips, and you feel a warmth spread through your chest. And in those moments, you know — this is real. This is right.

Your friends have stopped asking questions. They’ve accepted that this is your new normal, and honestly, so have you. The only thing left to do is see where it takes you.

taglist: @awqken @hollyoongs @enhastolemyheart @wonnienyang @skzenhalove @slvrnm @lovesangyeon @velvetkisscs @soobieboo @jakeflvrz @woorcve @moonpri @blockbusterhee @yjwsgf @doublebunv @moon4moony @woniebae @moon368 @jakeswifewithtwokids @love4hee @ikeryn @univershoon @indigoez @ramenoil @iilwji @riribell @ilabjungwon @tunafishyfishylike @psh23xie @toodeloosoo @leov3rse @onlyhyunjin @nyxtwixx @mnxnii @whateverhoon @jayrelics @laurradoesloveu @heeswif3y @enhalxvr @yunhoswrldddd @nikiswifiee @aiiselle90210 @lixiebokie @lelsforlino @eneiyri @punchbug9-blog @babystrlla @hee-yunie @hoonics @notevenheretbh1

[fictionalsweethearts]

SUBLIMATE THE PAIN | SEVIKA X READER | ARCANE

Synopsis: Sevika helps you to explore yourself and subside the pain and the shame of self pleasure.

Contains: comfort, soft!sevika, unexperienced!reader, wlw, first sexual experiences, soft talk, masturbation, fingering.

A pretty personal fic, tbh, but Sevika as a character seems to be patient and loving when it comes to sex and I'm here to write about it. Enjoy!

Sevika had promised you patience and comfort, a woman with her vast sexual experience knew the unpleasant and uncomfortable details of love. She knew the burning and the pain, the disgust, the sorrow, the shame and the numbness, and for that reason she had promised to accompany you in the process with as much patience as necessary.

She kissed you again on the neck, a mirror stood before you sitting on the bed, Sevika's vast hand ran over your breasts and her grey eyes looked at you through the reflection, inviting you to stop ignoring the signs of your body. Her breasts brushed your back, her mechanical hand gently parted your legs and revealed the juiciness and softness of your core.

"How do you pretend to touch her without knowing her?" The woman asked. "You ignore many things, babe."

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment since you had your first kiss of the evening, but you promised not to let shyness win you over this time. It was the third night and the third time you tried, the last two having ended with a sudden lock-in in the bathroom or tears of shame and frustration running down your cheeks.

"I can't. I swear I can't." You cried as Sevika kissed your wet cheeks.

"Of course you can, don't be like that with yourself."

You considered that Sevika could be your mentor in this unknown field for you, the guide that would allow you to understand sex as something more than a mere routine or necessary act. "To begin with, doll, we don't intend to have a child with this. Not even if we wanted to. Second, I've seen as many pussies in my life as I've smoked cigarettes and yours is undoubtedly beautiful."

You laughed to hide your shame, but Sevika meant it. She was decades ahead of you in sexual experiences, she knew the female anatomy in depth, taking the time to explore herself first. Sevika knew that no one could teach her how to have an orgasm, and she fondly remembers the first times she tried self pleasure in the silence of her room, picturing that pretty girl at the market who used to sell her peaches at a good price. It was another Zaun, more precarious, less saturated with pornography and violence, and certainly her brain needed little to start imagining. And the softness of the girl's breasts under her blouse, her long neck and olive eyes were more than enough to awaken that visceral desire in her.

She dedicated her first orgasm to that girl and her peach scent. It was in a way tender, but the starting point of an endless journey through the unexplored region of sexuality. She soon discovered that inserting a finger was pleasant, that if she moved it in a certain way, it was even more so. She discovered that her breasts were sensitive if touched properly, that her entire skin was a map of erogenous zones and tickles, that rubbing her pussy against the pillow was delicious, and that after an orgasm she slept better. And soon, as soon as she was over five foot seven and learned to smoke without coughing, Sevika discovered that touching herself tasted better if someone she liked did it for her.

"Slow." Sevika whispered, placing a kiss on your shoulder. "Look at yourself. What do you see?"

"My pussy." You whispered, barely giving your reflection time to look back at you.

"You say it like it's a bad thing."

"It's not bad it's…"

"Strange?"

"I don't usually look at my pussy, Sev." You groaned.

"You should, it's pretty." Sevika laughed, caressing your waist with her metal fingers. "Think of all the men who have been staring at their cocks for as long as they've been conscious of them hanging between their legs, do you think they feel ashamed?"

You hesitated. "No?"

"There are two things a man always believes to be true." Sevika said, her tone lighter. "That they have the fattest cock on the block and that they can duel a bear without weapons, and win."

You laughed, your legs shaking slightly. Sevika smiled back. "If only you had the confidence they have in themselves, doll. It would be all so different."

Your expression sobered, this time giving the gap between your legs a longer look, that much neglected organ that deserved just a little more recognition in your life and in the lives of many other women.

"Look at the labia majora, the shape of it, the length of it…" Sevika whispered. "It frames the labia minora, the ones closest to the entrance."

You'd seen them in some anatomy book at the library, but recognizing them on yourself was quite different.

"I should have shaved more." You groaned in frustration.

Sevika snorted. "Are you saying that because of you or me? Cause lemme tell you, a hairy pussy doesn't grosses me out. On the contrary."

"But it does to me."

"Mine repels you?" Sevika inquired, leaving you speechless for a moment.

"No…" you whispered. "Yours… it's yours."

"I see. Now think the same about yours, sweetie." Sevika said. "Yours is what it is and that's it. Don't you dare apologize for how your body looks. Do I apologize for not having an arm?"

And you fell silent once more. Sevika sighed, kissing your neck. “You get my point.”

Sevika reveled in your body, in your flushed cheeks and focused eyes. She loved seeing you present. “You’re already wet.” She whispered. “But it can get wetter. Take two fingers.”

Sevika brought you index and middle fingers parted to the sides of your entrance, urging you to press. “Massage, slow.” She whispered, showing you the movement.

You obeyed, following the motion timidly at first, until you soon understood the purpose. That movement, however subtle, opened a pent-up dam that began to make you wetter and wetter. You moaned, feeling the urge to touch the rest but Sevika held your wrist. “Start from edges.” She said. “Don’t rush it.”

It was one of your vices, quick, silent masturbation. With your legs closed, a hand on your mouth and your eyes closed tightly, as if you were committing a crime that you wanted to finish soon. They were fleeting moments of pleasure that later turned into disconnection with yourself.

But Sevika knew you deserved better than that.

With your index finger you traced circles on your labia majora, slowly while Sevika whispered in your ear, kissed it and bit your lobe, making you shudder subtly. It was a constant and gentle movement, with no other purpose than to explore yourself.

"Come closer to the center." Sevika whispered. "Apply pressure, rub a little."

Your eyelids fluttered at that tickling between your legs, the sticky and wet murmur of your folds that made Sevika moan softly and her breathing accelerate, her breasts pressing against your back. Your hips moved unconsciously, you looked at your hand through the mirror, delicately between your legs with the elegance of an erotic painting.

"You're so pretty." Sevika gasped. "Look how your cheeks blush."

"Yours too."

Sevika smiled. "It just turns me on like you can't imagine seeing you touching yourself."

Sevika was known to be an avid spectator. More than once she would abstain from participating and sit on the couch in the brothel with a cigarette between her teeth, asking her girl to give her a show. There was something about watching such an intimate ritual that stirred every nerve fiber in her. Watching them unfold before her, rubbing themselves the way they liked, moaning genuinely, shuddering, whimpering and sighing, being able to see how their own hand is able to take them on a roller coaster of sensations. That ritual held a power that Sevika was fascinated to behold, and tonight you were her apprentice and her muse.

Sevika squeezed your breast, playing with your hardened, sensitive nipple. She already wanted to taste them, but she had to be patient. The appetizer was your self-exploration, the dessert was her mouth between your legs.

"You know… when there's too much business to attend to." Sevika said, her grey eyes watching you. "I can't visit the girls, so I lay back on my bed with a cigarette between my lips…" she murmured. "And I squeeze my breasts. Over and over, I touch them… massage them… while thinking of old encounters, of sounds… smells. You know how I love smells."

"All of them." You whimpered.

"Yes… from the armpits to the neck, between a couple of breasts and a wet pussy." Sevika sucked in between her teeth. "All of them."

You remember how Sevika had taken to sniffing you the first time she had you. She inhaled the scent of your neck and the crook of your elbows, behind your knees and your armpits. It was a scent loaded with codes, codes that communicated intentions. The pheromones were the best card to attract the most finicky organ of the human body; the nose.

"Sev." You whimpered. "Can you…?"

"That would be the shortcut, so no. I won't touch you yet."

You groaned, tilting your head back as Sevika placed a kiss on the top of your head. "Patience." Sevika drew your hand to the shy hood at the top of your pussy. "Pamper her, that's what it's for."

You traced circles around it, letting out a gasp. Sevika kept her hand on your wrist, indicating the methodical and steady pace, drawing sweet moans from you. "I'm wet just by looking at you." She whispered.

You bit your lip, the urge to grind harder and harder. An orgasm was building inside you, steady and certain, as Sevika kissed your neck and motioned for you to quicken your pace. "Ah, fuck…"

"Moan better." Sevika said. "You can be as loud as you want here."

You whimpered, your hips seeking more contact as you moved and you rubbed against your hand. Sevika pressed her fingers against you, urging you on. "Keep going… don't rush." ​​

"Ah, Sev."

"You like it? It's better when you don' try to cum in two minutes."

You hurried your hand, but Sevika held you back. This wasn't a race and you were certainly getting ahead of yourself. "Old habits die hard."

Her metal hand held your legs apart, her other hand ascending to your chin to make you look at yourself in the mirror again. “We’ll try again, okay?”

This part was the one you liked the least. It wasn’t just the pain, it was the accumulated frustration from past sessions with no results. Sevika told you it was all in your head, that you were just as deserving of this pleasure as others. But you still felt skeptical.

“Middle finger.” She whispered, bringing it to your entrance. “Just press, darling. Soften your entrance.”

You pressed your lips together, obeying her command even though you preferred to rub. You eased the tip of your finger, gently moving it in circles. “It already burns.” You whined.

“I know. We talked about sublimating pain, remember?” You nodded. “Your body is already relaxed, you’re wet. You need to focus on breathing.”

It seemed that when it came to penetration, your body locked up. It was an overwhelming burn, a wall of fire if you will, closing in around your fingers and keeping you from entering. Sevika had tried this in the past, drawing whimpers from you that would never stop causing her guilt. This time, however, it was about allowing yourself to do it.

"I don't like it, Sev."

"You don't like it because you're predisposed to suffer." she insisted. "I know you can, babygirl."

You looked at Sevika through the mirror, her grey eyes soothing you. "Breathe, deep. One… two…" you inhaled, your hand between your legs, the wall of fire present. "Three. Exhale…"

You dared to venture deeper, your walls coupling to your finger as the burn quickened your breathing. "Shh." Sevika kissed your neck. "Breathe again."

One… two… three…

Exhale.

“Ah…” you moaned, inserting the last bit of your finger and feeling the latent but less painful tension. “Mhm.”

“Good girl, look at yourself.”

You opened your eyes, looking at yourself in the mirror. The palm of your hand rested against your clit, your finger inserted all the way in, like a new but unrejected intrusion. “Sev.”

“I told you you could, you're taking it whole.” Sevika smiled. "Can you move it?"

You barely curled your finger, but you recognized the rugous wall inside you. "Yes…" you moaned.

"Breath for me." continued Sevika, gently taking your wrist as she motioned you to curl your fingers once more. "One... two..."

"Mhm, Sev." you moaned, your eyes closing. "Fuck."

"Does it hurt?"

"The pressure." you managed to explain.

"You're tensing, baby. Relax..." Sevika let out a pant, kissing the side of your neck. "You're doing so good."

You endured and took a deep breath, curling your finger against the inner wall Sevika talked you about. You felt a tickle, barely diminishing due to an increasingly timid pain.

And Sevika seemed pleased. "You did good, baby. Rest."

You pulled your finger back when the pressure forced it, only for Sevika to cup your chin in her fingers and pull you in for a long kiss. "Well done." She said between kisses. "Fuck, you looked so beautiful."

Sevika showered you in kisses, from your mouth to your navel, repeating how proud she was of you. "You've crossed the threshold, gorgeous. You just need to practice."

You smiled, feeling the hint of a happy cry build up in your throat. But Sevika cheered you up with another kiss. "We'll try again tomorrow. Sooner than later I'll have you cumming in my fingers over and over again."

You chuckled, watching Sevika kiss your inner thigh. "It's rude to look at the food without eating it, y'know?" you teased her.

"How rude of me." she purred, her kisses coming closer to your wet and now dilated pussy. "You better moan properly, doll."

"All you want."

[anantaru]

⚝ DAY 10 — DIRTY TALK

kinktober 2024. — masterlist | ao3

— including. — childe, kazuha, diluc, zhongli

— warnings. — fem! reader, dirty talk, manhandling, filthy, lots of spit and cum lolol

⚝ — CHILDE

childe moans before he even touches you properly, ah, how embarrassingly drunk he could turn from simply feeling you, right? already breathless, already feral, every thrust of his tongue into your mouth mimicking the obscene rhythm he wanted to fuck you with, "you feel this baby, you feel me?" he pants out, rocking against your hips as a shudder tears through him, forehead pressed to yours, "you do this to me, you make me a mess, fuck, i'd kill for you to beg," there's nothing elegant about the way childe fucked you— it's honestly quite disgusting, wet and fast, making you throb around his thick length as he laps and sucks your tongue like a drowning man gulping at salvation— ugh, and his hands? they won't stay still, clawing at your ass, your throat, your chest, everything, his eyes blown wide with worship, "take me, use me, archons, i'm so hard it hurts— please."

⚝ — KAZUHA

kazuha was so whiny, sobbing out your name like poetry choked on lust, so sweetly, so candid, wouldn't you agree? and his voice falters right there, broad with liquid desire and decay, "you don't know what you do to me… i've dreamed of this, of you— your skin, your mouth, your—," and he's biting back a whimper when you wiggle against his clothed groin, desperately wanting more as his tongue dips into your mouth with aching grace, his body unyielding but shaking against yours. most importantly, when your fingers slide lower at last, to stroke him through his pants, he gasps— a stuttering, "oh… fuck, please— again—please," dripping from his tongue like straight rot from a ripe fruit— hungry words spilling into your ears between gasps, every word a blasphemy, every syllable soaked within the kind of desire that left saints gagging and angels turning their faces away, "i want to drown in you, i want to fuck you until your legs forget how to stand—can i? please…" and kazuha's fucking his cock against your palm now, feral without shame, using your hand as a fucktoy as you skim your fingers in his hair and chant his name.

⚝ — DILUC

sweetest, most touch starved diluc was finding himself flustered as he felt how hard his face was burning— cheeks flushed like crimson as sweat beads at his hairline, his whole body shaking beneath you, "it never… felt— like this, not like this," he drawls, voice barely holding it together as his lips part under yours, slack and hot, and when you press deeper, he inhales so violently it rattles through his chest— less breath, more breakdown— sharp and wet, like a sob dragged hard from the deepest part of him where shame and need blur into one raw, biting throb, "feels— too good— too much, are you sure? i need you to be sure because i won't stop, I can't—" and then it breaks within his stomach, his hips lifting and fucking into you, smearing your arousal on his length like he didn't care, grinding against you, fucking you, mouth open and soaked with the taste of your name, "ride me, come on," diluc begs, "please— fuck me like I'm yours, mark me, use me, take it— take all of me."

⚝ — ZHONGLI

feeling how zhongli changed in the bedroom always made you excited as he speaks like a hymn even when he's rutting against your thighs, soaking them with his sticky cum, voice slow, quivering with worship, "so good for me, so soft… let me in, let me ruin this body with min," although his hands don't grope, no— they respect, each palm trailing down your waist like you're carved from the most expensive jades in liyue, a sacred artifact made solely for his possession. and when zhongli goes further to taste you, it's as though the world must stop and kneel— deep, molten, endless— his tongue dragging slow and sinful across your bottom lip, tasting you like he's waited centuries, truly, "you were made for this," he murmurs, voice cracking, every kiss tasting filthier and forbidden as his dick pushes past your tight cunt, sloppy and raw, strings of cum and slick snapping each time he pulls back just to fall in again, hungrier each time, "you were made for me, say it."

©2025 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[finelinevogue]

safe with me

summary - you say 'yes' to being intimate with azriel when you really mean ‘no', because your past relationship taught you that saying 'yes' is the only answer

word count - 1.2k

pairing - azriel x mate!reader

[ reference to past abusive relationship - read with care 🤎 ]

It was the dark of night.

Everyone was in bed except you and Azriel, because you'd both lost track of time staying up and talking about everything and nothing. It was a habit you were both readily guilty of. Neither of you cared, though, when your conversations only made the bond stronger.

Azriel held the bedroom door open for you as you walked through first.

"Do you have training in the morning?" You asked him, walking over to your side of the bed.

You picked up the small tin of body cream there, scooping some up so you could apply it to your hands. It smelt of roses and reminded you of the endless walks through the garden you'd had with Azriel over the years.

"I do, yes. Cassian wants to show the priestesses some new defence techniques. He asked me to help him demonstrate."

Azriel locked the bedroom door and rounded the opposite side of the bed to you - his side, you both now called it.

You watched intensely as he lifted his black shirt over his head.

His muscles stretched and rippled as his body moved. His arms lengthened and the veins popped as he lifted his hands above his head.

You swallowed your desire as you admired him.

Due to Azriel's slight compulsive tendencies, he couldn't just throw his shirt on the floor. Instead, he neatly folded it and placed it on the dressing table.

You don't know what was more attractive; Azriel stripping down or Azirel being neat and tidy.

"It's rude to stare, you know?" He teased you as he came back to bed, lifting the covers to slip underneath.

"I wasn't staring." You blushed.

"Tell that to your cheeks."

You smiled to yourself as you stood up to untuck the covers on your side of the bed, before slipping in beside your mate.

The moment you were laid down Azriel attacked you with a flurry of kisses - probably the sweetest type of attack you could endure.

His lips kissed your cheeks repeatedly, making you laugh out loud from the suddenness of it all. You tried to move away and turn a cheek, but he was too insistent on loving you to notice.

He did notice, however, when your laugh started to fade away as he continued to kiss from your cheek to your neck.

Your mind was spinning a million miles an hour, trying to figure out how you were feeling and if you wanted this innocent kissing to turn into something more intimate. The fact that you were hesitating was enough for you to mentally agree that you didn't want to do anything this evening, but conveying that to your mate was an entire different thing.

"Okay?" He asked, slowly kissing over the sweet spot on your neck that normally got you going.

Unfortunately your mind was being cruel.

Instead of being here and in the room with Az, you had been transported back to the same situation with an ex-male of yours. He had initiated an evening much like Azriel was doing, but he knew you weren't particularly feeling it. Instead of accepting your answer of 'no', he had convinced you that you were "just confused" and "this is something you actually want" and to "just say yes".

You hadn't wanted to say yes at all.

But your ex had been so good at manipulating you that he had eventually gotten what he wanted without making it seem non-consensual.

Azriel, being ever so perceptive, could tell you were caving in on yourself, as well as feeling your heartbeat quicken and his shadows picked up on your hesitance and nervous energy. All of it together sent Azriel major red alarms.

"Hey, sweetheart, hey?"

Azriel's face was hovering above yours now, nowhere near your neck but you hadn't even realised he had moved away.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

You looked in his eyes and saw their concern. You didn't want to worry him. This is something that Azriel wants and that should be enough, right?

"Mhm."

You couldn't convince yourself to say the word 'yes' out loud. You couldn't do that to yourself again.

Azriel's hand cupped your cheek so softly you thought you were made out of porcelain. He looked through you before he spoke - his shadows enclosing around you so that you could just focus on each other and nothing else.

"Sweetheart, you're allowed to say no. You know that."

You blinked a few times as if that would help register what he'd just said.

"But..." You stuttered, "But you want to."

Azriel furrowed his eyebrows and tried to keep himself calm. If it weren't for needing to reassure and comfort you right now, he would very quickly dress in his battle armour and take out every male who had ever wrongly taught you about consent.

How someone could let themselves not take care of you if you weren't feeling up to being intimate is beyond his comprension.

Azriel shook his head, gritting his teeth. "That's not how it works with me."

Your eyes started to water as they were opened to understanding what true consent feels like and should be. Azriel was doing the absolute bare minimum in this situation and yet it felt like the most monumental thing to have happened.

"It’s just... When I was with... him, it didn’t matter if I wanted to or not. What he wanted was all that mattered. And I-I guess I just learned to go along with it."

"Well that stops right now." Azriel said, "That's not how we're going to do things, okay? How you feel is more important to me than getting off. Mother above, how does someone even get off if the other person isn't feeling it? Sweetheart, if you’re not sure, then we stop. Always."

A little teardrop fell onto your cheek, but you couldn't help but smile with how loved and protected you felt right now.

You could tell that Azriel was absolutely heartbroken to hear about your past relationships, but he would be damned if he didn't change the wrongs of your thinking. Knowing that your comfort is his priority filled your heart with joy, because it meant that you were safe with him. Safe with your mate.

“I didn’t realise how scared I was to tell you no. I was so sure it would make you angry, or-or disappointed.”

Azriel shook his head again, “The only thing that would ever disappoint me is you thinking you have to hide how you feel. You’re safe with me. I promise."

You nodded in agreement because you did believe him.

You could feel his trust and his assuredness within the bond.

"Can we just cuddle?" You asked shyly.

"Of course we can." Azriel smiled, kissing your forehead for good measure. "Only after I kill your ex..."

You didn't think he was being serious until he started to get up off you and shuffle out of bed. Laughing, you tugged on his arm and because he wasn't expecting it he landed with an oomph on top of you.

"You'll do no such thing."

"We'll see about that." He scoffed, trying again.

"See about it in the morning?" You counter offered, knowing there was nothing you could do to stop him from defending your honour - overprotective mate.

"Fine." He flopped back down on the bed and made room for you to cosy in next to him.

His wings finally wrapped around you, ensuring your safety as the both of you drifted off to sleep, the weight of your confession making it easier to sleep at night. All the while, Azriel stayed up planning his vengeance.

[planet-dusk]

⋆.˚ put my finger on your tongue cause you love to taste ‎⊹₊⋆

— seo changbin × fem reader

𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊 𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔. cw. mean dom!changbin, 'just the tip', rough sex, overstim, crying, choking, humiliation, breeding, name calling: slut, pet names: baby, doll, sweetheart wc. 2500 note. this story is fictional and does not depict real events or individuals. minors dni. for mature audiences only ! this sat in my drafts for over a year but now it was finally time to rewrite it and set it free.. enjoy ‹33

© planet-dusk do not copy, translate or repost my works.

You know exactly what you're doing.

In your defense — look at him. The way his tight black shirt clings to his muscles, emphasizing every dip and curve. His soft, dark curls freshly washed and still damp from the shower. His focused gaze as his hands adjust something on the mixer, that face that makes you want to wrap your arms around him from behind and slip your hands underneath his clothes…

All day long you've been distracting him. Sitting across him at lunch with your legs crossed, one foot bobbing in the air, then sliding up his thigh underneath the table. An innocent pout on your peachy glossed lips while he glowers at you and covertly adjusts himself for the third time in the past twenty minutes.

You keep leaning forward to whisper things in his ear. Light, teasing, just enough to make his cock ache in his jeans while he's mid-mixdown. Just enough to make him have to restart a verse because he missed the timing cue, too busy imagining bending you over the studio desk instead.

But Changbin doesn't say a word. With every passing hour the heat in his eyes grows hotter. He quietly watches you reapply your lipgloss and make a kissy face at Jisung as the other waves his goodbyes. He's counting down the minutes until the last person has left the studio and he won't have to hold back any longer.

Two long hours.

It takes that long before Chan, ever the last to leave, shut his laptop with a soft click and closes the studio door behind him.

Two agonizing, endless hours before Changbin can finally touch you.

And now you lie beneath him, spread out and waiting. The air around you is already thick and brimming with desire. Your shirt's pushed up and your panties dangle around your left ankle. As much as he loves seeing your naked body, the view of you flustered and begging for him while he hasn't even fully undressed you goes straight to his cock.

"You think you get to decide when I fuck you?"

"Please, Bin…"

He laughs and grips your jaw. "You've been acting like a cockdrunk slut all day. Flirting, riling me up, touching yourself in the bathroom —"

Your eyes widen and you attempt to shake your head but his grip on your jaw is too strong. Shame and excitement stir deep inside your gut as he leans in closer, forcing your gaze to stay on his.

"Don't play coy now. You think I'm that oblivious? Hell, I'm pretty sure even Chan and Sungie could smell the arousal clinging to your skin when you came back."

His hungry eyes rake over your exposed body. "And now you think I'll give you what you want, just like that?" He moves his hand to your mouth and pushes his fingers inside, letting you wet them before bringing them to your aching pussy.

A cocky grin settles on his lips when he discovers you're already soaking.

"Please," you whisper again. It's embarrassing how wet you are, your face flushing with heat at the slick sound of his fingers. One… two… it's not enough. You need more.

"I swear I'll be good for you, I-I need your cock, Binnie, please —"

Changbin chuckles. "You really need my cock that bad?" He removes his fingers and you whine at the loss. "What makes you think you deserve it?"

You splutter in protest but the press of his thick head at your entrance cuts you off, turning the words into a slurred moan. Your hips rise involuntary to meet him and —

A quick slap stings the inside of your thigh. Not enough to leave a lasting mark, but hard enough to have you bite down on your tongue.

"Stay still."

Another whine escapes your throat but you stay put. The weight of his heavy cock throbbing against your hole is maddening. You tremble, tears brimming in your eyes as you try to focus on the burn of his handprint.

He's so close to where you need him…

Your obedience is rewarded with a slow drag of his cock between your folds. You tense and fight to hold your hips steady, balling your fists and pressing your nails into the palms of your hands to distract yourself from the feeling of his flushed tip circling your hole. He moves achingly slow, like he has all the time in the world. As if you hadn't been teasing and provoking him since early morning.

"All you needed to do today, doll," Changbin mutters when he finally slides in, sinking his cock between your fluttering walls, "was be patient and behave."

And then he stops.

Your hands fist into his shirt to pull him in closer, but he's faster, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head against the backrest. Those same muscles you've been eyeing all day now hold you down with ease, adding more fuel to the heat between your legs.

You don't think you'll ever get used to his strength. Or the stretch. The way it burns just right, stretching you far beyond what you thought possible. Making you crave more.

Changbin barks out a harsh laugh seeing your confused pout, cock twitching at your entrance. Barely an inch inside.

"Been teasing me all day. About damn time I teach you some patience."

You whine his name and struggle in his grasp but he doesn't budge, strong hands still holding your wrists in their tight grasp. His voice drops low.

A warning. Your empty cunt flutters.

"I told you to stay still. Don't fucking move. Or do you want me to pull out and leave you here, leaking all over the couch like a useless slut? Your choice, baby."

You shake your head wordlessly and bite your lip to stop yourself from crying. Anything he gives you now is better than staying empty and aching. Not after waiting all day. You should've known better than to tease him: you know how ruthless he gets when you rile him up, but it's never been quite like this before.

Your brain feels fuzzy and hazed already, enticing you to fully surrender your body to him. His cruel words only heighten your arousal.

His fingers move without warning, slicking themselves with your own wetness before pressing up to your clit. The coil in your gut tightens.

"You're going to cum like this. On the tip. Not once — twice." Changbin's gaze is as stern and commanding as his thumb moving in rough circles over you clit. "And you're going to thank me for it, doll. Show me how desperate you are."

Your pussy clenches around him, trying to suck him in deeper, but he doesn't move.

"P-please Binnie, just a little more," you beg. Your cunt aches to be filled, puffy and sensitive from the unrelenting strum of his fingers. It's a painful kind of pleasure; one that has your orgasm building at a threatening pace.

"Why?" he mocks. "Feels too empty, baby? Then cum on it."

Changbin pinches your swollen clit between his fingers and your whole body tenses, back arching into his chest as you cum with a cry. Your walls flutter desperately around his tip but he just holds it there. His dark eyes are glued to the pulse of your cunt soaking his cock in a wet mess. It drips down the inside of your thighs, pooling onto the black leather underneath.

"You really just creamed my cock from that?" He shakes his head, voice thick with disbelief and something that sounds almost like awe. "That's all it took? Fuck, that's pathetic. Didn't even need the whole thing. Makes me wonder why I even bother giving you the rest when you're this easy."

Shame and embarrassment mingles with the high of your orgasm. Still, your treacherous pussy keeps clenching down on him and he chuckles again, letting go of your wrists.

Your arms fall limply to your sides, legs trembling when he folds them closer to your chest and shifts his hips forwards, swollen head nudging deeper, barely so.

Your whole body jerks. "Binnie, 'm sorry, I —"

His smile turns cruel. "I let you come like this and you're still whining for more? You think you've earned it yet?" He rocks his hips, just enough to drag his cock along your soaked entrance, the friction sharp and agonizing. "No, doll. You're going to cum again, on the tip, because that's all you deserve right now. And if you do it right… then I'll let you feel the rest of me."

He grabs your chin and tilts your face upwards so your eyes meet his gaze. "Now say 'Thank you, Changbin.'"

Changbin can be loud, he can be spirited, but above all he's determined — and years of strict schedules and building his body in the gym have given him a sense of self-discipline and conviction that's wrecked you more times than you can count.

And right now, all that discipline is aimed entirely at you. He isn't giving in, not an inch, no matter how wet you are for him. His cock stays where it is; the throb of it serves as a constant reminder of what you can't have until you do exactly as told.

"T-hank you, Changbin," you mumble.

"For what?" His tone is light. Daring you to humiliate yourself for him.

Your face burns hotter, shame bubbling up in your throat. His fingers pinch your clit until your face twists in a mixture of pleasure and discomfort. "Thank you for what? Let me hear it."

Your gaze drops down to the silver chain dangling around his neck. "For… for letting me cum on the tip," you mumble.

The words hang in the silence between you. Then the hand holding your chin moves lower to wrap around your throat. "Now look at me." His grip tightens. "And say it again."

His eyes are dark heavy-lidded but you hold his gaze this time.

"F-for letting me cum on the tip."

Changbin hums, a satisfied smile on his lips, but his grip doesn't relent. He feels your heartbeat jump underneath your jaw, all the way down to the pulse of your clit between his fingers. Tears start to blur your vision again.

"One more time, doll. Let's make sure you remember your lesson."

You choke out the words. "Thank you for letting me cum on the tip."

"Good girl." He smiles and loosens his grip, watching your shaky exhale. "Now make a mess for me again."

His thumb presses in tight, sharp circles that have your hips jerking despite yourself. His other hand steadies you as he starts to shallowly fuck his fat tip in and out of your aching hole, never more than a few inches. It's torture: the pins and needles of your pulsing, overstimulated nerves mixing with the near unbearable ache of still feeling so empty.

You're babbling half-formed pleas through the tears, Changbin's face surrounded by a blurred glow from the light behind him. The way your pussy tries to suck him in is clearly affecting him. Sweat shimmers on his forehead and his breathing has turned into pants, but he keeps his thrusts shallow.

He watches it build again: takes note of your tear-streaked face, your moans rising in pitch and volume, your trembling thighs. The muscles in his arm flex as he rolls his thumb over your sore clit over and over again.

He leans in close, lips brushing your ear. "You can do it, sweetheart. Come on. Make me proud."

His words push you over the edge. You fall apart for him, every muscle locking up tight again, fingers tightening around his strong arms until your knuckles turn pale.

Changbin works you through it. Only when the frantic flutter of your cunt around him begins to fade does he draw back, a smug smile tugging at his lips.

"Now," he murmurs, kissing your tear-stained cheeks, "you've earned it."

The first thrust is a savage drive that buries him so deep it turns your whole body into white static. Your walls clamp down around the sudden intrusion, still raw and spasming from your last orgasm. He forces your thighs flat against your chest as he presses into you, locking you in place. There's no way to escape the heat of him, the sudden fullness, each thrust hitting deeper than the last.

The heat in your core is all-consuming. It lights up every nerve.

Your voice is a hoarse whisper. "'s too much, Bin, I can't —"

He doesn't slow down. He knows exactly how far he can push you, attuned to every twitch and sound you make for him.

"Now it's too much for you?" he scoffs. "This is what you wanted."

He hooks his hands under your thighs and hikes your knees over his shoulders. His cock drives in at a new angle, causing you to jerk in his hold, cunt raw and soaking around him. Somewhere through the haze you faintly register the sound of your own broken voice crying out his name.

"Yeah," he growls, eyes locked on the way you take his cock, "that's it, sweetheart. Gonna breed you so deep you'll feel it for days."

You're floating, reduced to the pulsing of your cunt around him. Your walls flutter every time his cock hits that sweet spot, wet and wanting as always. Greedy.

“Beg for it," he commands, voice jagged. He holds onto the backrest, caging you in, making you feel small beneath him. "Beg for my cum."

You cry out, "Please, please, Binnie, I want it inside, fill me up, fill me up —" until your voice cracks and you're clamping down on him. Leaking all around his thick length. You're shaking, clinging to his body, but he doesn't stop.

"There's my pretty girl." He holds you tight, muttering hoarse praises into your skin. "Cum on my cock, sweetheart. I got you. Fuck, greedy pussy's still trying to suck me in."

Every thrust heightens that raw, painful pleasure in your core. Your body jerks in his hands, trying to escape the overstimulation, but he pins you to the couch. "You wanted me to fill you up?" he groans lowly as his movements grow erratic. "Then take it."

His cock throbs between your swollen walls. You feel it pulse and flood you in thick spurts, spilling deep inside.

Changbin finally stills, resting his forehead against yours. "Look at you," he murmurs, breathless, "you took it so well."

You kiss him, not wanting to let go despite your aching muscles. You know you're going to feel sore for days. He moves to lie on his side, pulling you down with him.

His cock stirs between your tender walls.

"Bin," you whine.

"Next time," he chuckles, caressing your soft thighs, "maybe think twice before trying to drive me crazy."

[beware-of-pity]

The way to a man's heart is through his stomach

Masterlist / AO3 link

Word Count: 12,093

Warnings: Insecurities, nothing too detailed. Emotional hurt/Comfort.Humor. A little steamy at the end, but nothing too depraved since they're idiots in love. They're so Jim and Pam coded.

Pairing: Clark Kent (Superman 2025) x reader

Summary:

Everything you know about love you learn by feeding Clark Kent.

. ━━━━━━━━━━━ ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━━

It all starts without you even noticing.

You are often told you’re too into your head for your own good to notice the impact you have on other people’s lives, but you honestly are just happy to have the comforts you have to weigh too heavily on the place you fill in the world.

You don’t want to be great or anything, or have any of the ambitions your coworkers, such as Lois, seem to pride themselves on. You just…want to write your culinary column and get paid for it with as little trouble as you can be given, especially when Perry punishes you by assigning the sports column for you to write alongside the column only you have the credentials to write.

You’re honestly just happy going about your day, without as little hardship and trouble as you can, which, of course, proves as difficult as it could be living in a city like Metropolis, the urban centre for aliens and… weird-looking specimens alike to attract; the city having become a magnet for the strangest of mutants and villans to have fun with the place as if their own playground.

You thanked god for Superman and the supposed ‘Justice Gang’ despite the continuous attempts of the girl with the wings to contradict the guy with the less-than-desirable blonde bowl-shaped haircut, for always coming to the rescue of those less capable of protecting themselves.

You’re a simple girl who likes to bake and cook, try different recipes and write about them. People eat your food and compliment you on it for its exquisite taste, but nothing paled in comparison to how taken Clark Kent seemed to have become to you and your dishes ever since you began working at the Daily Planet short of three years ago, just a month before him.

You thought nothing much of it, just a man enjoying his food, and from his build, you were reassured it could only be that he had a fondness that led to his growing size, but Cat and Lois thought otherwise.

“He shoves food up his mouth like it's going to grow legs and try to escape” Lois shook her head as you three watched Clark stuff another blueberry lemon muffin, the third in less than ten minutes, you’d brought to the office. A new recipe you’d been hoping to perfect in time to add it to the next weekly issue of the newspaper, you watched as Clark typed what could only be another interview with the man of steel himself, whom Clark had an affinity for, always searching out and hunting for the front page deal of the week.

“No wonder he’s so broad. His mother must have bulked him up,” said Cat in mild amusement as her eyes set about wandering Clark’s frame, which strains under his jacket and shirt, the fabric stretching impossibly wide against the muscles he must be hiding under those clothes. “John from the gym says he does this thing where he eats various snacks during the day and just downs a steak for dinner. Only the stake, nothing served with it. You don't think that's what he's doing, is he?”

“John eats healthy snacks such as veggies and fruits, not muffins. It’s a protein diet. I don’t think that’s what Clark is doing…” you murmur as you watch Clark chase after the bite of muffin that leads to a chunk falling off the paper liner. You three are taking time out of the busy day to watch him try to pick up every bit of that crumb.

This was more entertaining anyway.

“He's such a messy eater. An endless pit, really” Lois rolls in her chair as to turn back to her desk “And you know what's the craziest thing?” Cat raises her eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “What?” she asked, leaning in slightly, wanting to know this great secret. Lois leans back in her chair, a knowing look on her face as she smiles at you. “He used to never eat this much. He always went to the cafeteria for the usual turkey sandwich they make for the employees, but ever since you started bringing in your creations, he’s never gone there during lunch breaks. Now he stuffs two or three servings of what you bring and saves them for his breaks, one for each meal, almost.” “Is that supposed to mean something?” You ask, confused, or rather trying to act so because whatever implication Lois was making caused panic to brew in you, like barely simmering water. “Oh, come on,” Lois smirked. “You're usually so observant in the kitchen. You can't tell me you haven't noticed how he practically gawks at you every time you bring in something new?” “He's smitten, darling, and we're not sure it's just the food he makes googly eyes at” Cat chimed with a wink, while Lois nods in agreement. “It’s so painfully obvious, it hurts. He cannot even be subtle with how clumsy he is. He stares at you as if you’ve hung the stars in the sky when you give him a dessert or two. Not to mention the number of times he's accidentally spilt coffee on himself, all because he was too busy ogling you to notice he wasn't tilting his cup properly.” “You’re out of your minds” you grumble as you turn back to your desk, where perched upon it lay your computer, the blank page and cursor blinking at you where they’d lain forgotten. “Perhaps we are” said Lois, “or perhaps we just have eyes” insisted Cat.

You shook your head as you set about writing your piece on those damn blueberry lemon muffins before you were taken off duty by Perry for anything else if you did not turn this in on time, just so unaware as a certain someone turned his head, just by the juncure of his neck and shoulder, to sneak glances at you, ears red and burning.

You would lie in saying that Cat and Lois had not gotten to you.

Later that night, back in your small, rather cramped apartment, which you liked just fine, you moved around the place almost on autopilot as you went about completing your chores before you got dinner started, lost to your thoughts.

The idea, the possibility, that Clark might have any other sort of interest in you that was not warranted by your food was honestly nerve-wracking. You liked being by yourself, never being much on the receiving end of a man’s attention, or anyone’s, for that matter. You were not flashy or much noticeable in the world, which you preferred. Going unnoticed was your thing, and you liked for it to remain like that.

You were not that interesting anyway…

The fact that you’d never been romantically involved with anyone at your age spoke for itself.

Perhaps you just were not cut out for relationships. Your independence and enjoyment of loneliness would only get in the way of a relationship, especially if it were with Clark, a ball of sunshine in comparison to your dreary outlook on life.

He was the sun, you were neither the moon nor the stars, but rather the dark sky, overlooked, overcast by the bigger, shinier occupants you shared the space with.

You had too much to do for a relationship anyway.

Ever since you reached your twenties, you’d thrown yourself into your work, rarely finding the time or interest to explore the dating world. You always thought it was just your preference to be single, but maybe part of you also felt that no one would be interested in someone as plain and unremarkable as yourself.

For crying out loud, Cat thought you were older than your years when she first met you, because she remarked that you dressed like someone wanting to look like a ‘granny’. She emphasises later on that it wasn’t meant to be an insult of any sort, just that you looked like a better fit for a corporal office job than a journalist one, but that you were the ‘cute granny’ of the Daily Planet.

The sting of the implication had not dulled the blow, but you knew she meant no harm in her words. It was during the days you were still getting to know each other, and when neither was too comfortable speaking without knowing exactly the limits and bounds of the other. Once you made a lemon sorbet during a particularly hot summer day, sat down with her to eat it, and talked about your comforts and perturbations, she apologised. In turn, you accepted the apology and soon became fast friends, finding common ground in the things you both shared a liking for.

It’s not as if she were wrong, either. Skirts that reached your knees, soft trousers, jumpers and cardigans, blouses, often fuzzy and hand-knit by your mother, no less, thighs and Mary janes, ballerinas, kitten heels if you were feeling brave, were a staple in your daily wardrobe. That is not to say you did not buy relatives fashionable clothes. You had a pair of jeans or two, sports shoes were your favourites when you were in a rush in the morning and had to make a run for it, and during the summer you pulled out from the back of your closet the rather open shirt you did not feel too comofortable in but would rather wear than get a heat stroke.

The thought of anyone uprooting the lifestyle you’d created for yourself always sent you near a panic attack, even a slight change in your daily routine did, because the unexpectable was well…the unexpectable.

The mere thought of the unpredictability of life was enough to make you anxious. You knew you were set in your ways, in routines. Routines were safe; they allowed for a sense of control, a predictability. Relationships, however, were the exact opposite. They were messy, unpredictable, and chaotic. You had witnessed enough romantic comedies to know how they went down. Fights, misunderstandings, communication issues, and the list just went on. The idea of getting yourself tangled up in that kind of headache was simply exhausting.

But despite shoving all thoughts of Clark to the back of your mind as you got yourself in the kitchen, you could not stop thinking of what Lois had said. It was true, and you'd noticed so as well, that Clark had begun to eat more than usual since you brought your casseroles, containers,tupperware, lunchboxes and stuff with you to work. He looked like he'd gained a pound or two, surely getting lost in the mass of muscles and getting no fat out of it, making not much of a difference to his usual appearance. But he had gotten a certain glow to himself, a healthy glow and the thought that you could possibly be the cause of it made you feel…warm, fuzzy inside, the same you had as a child when your mother complimented you on your baking of basic goods, at the beginning of your mastery.

Could it be true? Was Clark really so smitten with you that he would willingly pack on a few extra pounds just to have more of your cooking?

You thought that testing the waters…could not hurt, even as your mind screamed at you not to.

As you packed the leftovers of your vegetarian lasagna into your lunchbox that early morning, you packed another to take with you, adding a salad of cucumbers and tomatoes on the side, as well as some cut-up apple, with some sprinkled salt to keep the slices of the fruit fresh and some homemade cold lemon tea in a thermos that you loaded into your lunch bag to take with you.

When you arrived at work, you were greeted by the usual hustle and bustle of the newsroom, the sound of typing, the murmur of conversations, and the general atmosphere of a place that was always on the go. The lunch bag in your hand felt heavier than it was. The space it took in the employees' only fridge was noted by many.

When lunchtime came around, you turned slowly in your chair, towards Clark’s desk, opposite yours, where he sat, typing away on his computer, engrossed in his world, focused beyond words.

You took a deep breath, mustering up all the courage you could, clearing your throat delicately to get his attention.

“Clark?” you called out gently.

Clark startled to attention, looking up at you as if he had anticipated this moment, a warm smile on his face, his fingers stopping their flurry of typing.

“Yes?” His voice was friendly and inviting, waiting for what was coming, giving you his undivided attention. However, before you could speak, his gaze shifted to the lunch bag in your hand, which you’d taken before returning to your desk, and he lifted an eyebrow in curiosity. “Are you having lunch at your desk today? Not in the cafeteria?” he asked, his head tilting slightly to the side like a puppy.

You twiddled your thumbs, “Yeah” you murmur, “Would you…like to join me? I packed an extra lunchbox from my leftovers last night.” Clark's eyes lit up with genuine surprise and delight. His mouth curled into a wide, genuine smile, and he nodded his head enthusiastically. “I'd love to join you,” he said, “I-I would be honoured!” he said as he crossed the small space between your desks with his chair, coming to sit beside you at yours.

You unpacked the lunchboxes, setting them down between the two of you. The aroma of the vegetarian lasagna and the fresh, crisp salad filled the space, and juicy fruit made Clark's stomach audibly growl. He chuckled awkwardly.

“Sorry,” he said, blushing a bit. “I skipped breakfast this morning.” “You shouldn’t skip what doctors call the most important meal of the day” you smile with a tilt of your head. “You sound like my mother," he said, his cheeks still a rosy hue, embarrassed “She's always nagging at me to take better care of myself.” “She would be right to do so.” He picked up his fork and took a bite of the lasagna, his eyes widening in pleasant surprise. “Oh god,” he said between mouthfuls, one after the other in quick succession.

You furrow your brows in concern.

“Slow down or you'll choke-" too late, he was already coughing. Clark coughed a few times, pounding his chest gently to dislodge the bit that went down the wrong pipe. You sprang to the rescue, your hand coming to do the same at his back.

“I'm fine, I'm fine,” he wheezes, slowly coming down from the moment.

You stare at each other in complete astonishment at what just happened before you both burst into a fit of laughter. You and Clark sat there, laughing together at the ridiculousness of the situation, a moment of pure happiness.

“I can't believe you just did that,” you said between laughs, your eyes tearing up. "I warned you, you know!” “Yeah,yeah" he said, rubbing his chest “I guess I got a little too excited.” “A little too much” you tease softly.

As the laughter died down, Clark wiped a tear from his eye, his gaze flicking between you and the now-half-empty lunchbox. “You know, that was some of the best lasagna I've ever had. Not just saying that because I almost choked.” He said, before he had a sort of realisation, “Don’t tell my Ma, I always told her she makes the best lasagna.”

You smiled, biting back another laugh.

“I don’t even know your Ma, Clark” “Right, right,” Clark said, almost pensively, as if he had not thought of it. Well, because, to your lack of knowledge, Clark had fantasies many times about introducing you to his Ma and Pa. In his mind, you and Ma Kent got along really well over your fondness for cooking.

He shook that off, knowing he would be saving it for his dreams tonight.

“Anyway, how come you brought an extra lunchbox today? Not that I'm complaining, obviously.” His eyes twinkled with a mix of curiosity and amusement. “Just made too much food and did not want it to go to waste” you murmur.

It seemed that you had found the perfect excuse to run off your extra lunchboxes for the following weeks, and even when it became too old to use, Clark just accepted it as a matter of fact that you were lying out. Every night you sat at your kitchen table, with your notes, notebooks, cooking books and laptop open, for ideas on what to make, wanting to cook and bake something unique just for Clark to enjoy. If the night before you ran out of leftovers, then you would get up at the first rays of the sun, the earliest hours of the morning, just to cook your lunches, well…Clark’s lunches. You also made sure to wrap a cookie or a muffin, brioche or two for the breakfasts he missed too often, especially when he came to the office later than usual.

You waited with bated breath for his reaction to what was unveiled in the lunchbox each day, for his smiles, praise, and the look of total bliss as he ate the food. He was so immersed in being your own private critic, giving you advice, props and ways to twist things around for certain dishes and ingredients, which you often ended up using for the column. It was through that that you got a better look at what he preferred most, what he did not like but ate anyway because he would never let the food you’d put so much care into go uneaten.

Not by him and not on his watch!

You made sure not to make them again anyway, no matter if he ate them or forced himself to and tried to perfect the dishes, he seemed to gulp in big bites.

You once spent an entire evening perfecting Hollandaise sauce for the artichokes you’d made, feeling as though you had not whisked the butter into heaven enough each time. By the time you thought you’d got it right, you’d used two cartons of eggs, four big sticks of butter and the clock ticked two am, your bed calling for you, your kitchen a mess of dirty utensils.

But lunches were not the only thing you put effort into. A few more steps were added to your makeup routine, trying to further enhance your appearance than merely dabbing a few drops of blush on your cheeks, lip balm or lip gloss and mascara, spending a godly amount of money on products you didn’t know the ABCs of. You were too scared to ask Cat if she could lend you a few of her fashion magazines from her collection, in hopes you might find some sort of inspiration from the colourful pages. So instead, you sneaked around like a criminal when out in public, handing two or three magazines to the cashier to ring as if you were smuggling drugs. It was clear you were not fit for a heel higher than a 2.5, or that miniskirts were a little too out of your comfort zone. You’d once cried yourself into a tantrum at one in the morning, when you’d almost ‘ruined’ your hair after a lock got stuck in a roller. You were ready to take the kitchen scissors and cut yourself bald, but then you thought of what Clark would think of that, and you only ended up crying yourself to sleep on the floor of your living room, roll still stuck in your hair.

Every time your appearance changed, in little ways others might not notice, and which you did not expect to, Clark would. “I like what you did with the hair” or “the colour of that shirt really suits you” or even “I think I like the shoes you wore yesterday better”. And because of how unused you were to getting complimented or getting the margin of attention by a boy, it also left you thunderstruck, as if you’d gone through some sort of trauma, and you would go about the office as a dog might when uncomfortable, side-eyeing everyone and everything in your vicinity.

Lunches had become something only you two spent together. It was either he rolled his chair up to your desk or you to his, as you sat side by side eating your blood, sweat and tears as you chatted the time away.

Clark spoke of his love for punk rock, which he took really seriously. You’d even noticed the Mighty Crabjoys poster hanging by the bulletin board beside his bullpen. You spoke of your recipes, mostly because it's what brought you together in the first place. But as the days passed, and the more lunches you had together, he began making advances and wonders on your other interests outside of your work-related hobby.

Clark always seemed to have an endless number of questions about everything and anything. He asked about your hobbies, your childhood and dreams compared to what you’d achieved. His interest in you seemed genuine, which both comforted and alarmed you. It was nice to have someone show interest in you, especially a man as kind and thoughtful as Clark Kent, but it also brought up old insecurities. You were quiet and reserved, and sometimes you worried that you were too boring for someone like him. His curiosity was insatiable and his persistence admirable; his interest in you only growing stronger over the days. His questions and banter had you opening up to him, little by little, like peeling away at the layers of an onion, finding its core. You were reluctant at first, until he cracked you like the soft-boiled egg he was eating when he made the inquiry.

You began with the first topic he seemed most hardent for.

Music.

“I like The Crandberries” you said, voice so low it sounded like a whisper, “and The Sundays.” Clark chuckles, amused at your choice in music. “I never would have guessed you for a fan of Irish indie rock and dream pop. Any contemporary picks?” “The Marias, 10 CC, The Smiths, Cocteau Twins, Billy Joel” you stopped, a beat of realisation “I don’t suppose they’re that much more contemporary than the previous two, except the first.” “Don't worry, it's not like there's a statute of limitation on good music,” he shrugged. “And if you want my opinion? You got some pretty neat stuff going in your ears”

You smiled, your shoulders going lax “Thanks, Clark.” “Anytime,” he said, his voice a soothing sound. “And hey, if you're ever open to expanding your musical horizons, I could give you some recommendations. I've got some pretty obscure picks that you might like.”

Somehow, you'd ended up with a pair of headphones over your ear, too big for your head, attached to his computer, the Ramones' Blitzkrieg Bop playing from them, which you bopped your head to subtly as you ate your serving of stuffed Jalapeños while Clark watched on, eating his own serving of the delicacy you'd made the night before. It was more his style of music, and it wasn't exactly the 'obscure' pick you thought he was talking of, but you found yourself enjoying the song all the same. Perhaps it was because of Clark, or because you were doing so with Clark — you and him, just you and him.

As the song ended, Clark looked over at you, curious to see your reaction. He had a small, playful smile on his face, clearly pleased that you had enjoyed his 'non-obscure' recommendation.

“So, what did you think?” he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of anticipation, waiting for your opinion on the song. “You’re so niche” you said, munching on a bite. “Guilty as charged,” he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “But I prefer to think of myself as having diverse tastes” “You're an eccentric taste. Nothing further than something that needs to be acquired. You're like….plain rice. You go well with anything, and you're always delicious, and you never get tired of having it as a side with your meals.” He smiles, but furrows his brows as if he took offence to the comparison. “Plain rice? I’ll have you know, I might be a good side dish, but I have some pretty special qualities that make me stand out.” “I promise you, I would have you with every meal I have, even if you would not go well with the rest.” “Careful now," he tutted, voice playful, “You keep talking like that and I might think you're confessing your undying love for me.”

You flushed, a small rosy tint dusting your cheek as you came back to your senses “I would drown you in soup,” “Drown me in soup?” He echoed, inching closer, eyes sparkling with mischief, “That’s a rather…unique way of showing affection, don’t you think?”

You groaned as you showed his face the other way with your hand, pushing at the soft yet hard flesh of his cheek.

It was perhaps because of this newfound, excessive closeness that your lunches extended to other parts of your life in no time. As if he meant to return the favour, for your array of various lunches which by this point you both knew were no longer just your commendable efforts not to let food go to waste, he would show up to work with two coffees in hand instead of one, his own and one he always offered you.

You were reluctant at first.

You'd rather get coffee yourself, knowing that whatever Clark was offering you could only be anything further from the specific way you made your coffee. And yet, you found yourself pleasantly surprised when, upon your first sip, the overly sweet concoction that melted in your tongue was your usual choice at the cafeteria.

“Three spoons of sugar, condensed milk on the sides, a shot of espresso, two cups of milk and whipped cream on top” he repeated the order he'd taken to memory with pride. “H-…how did you-“ you were at a loss for words. Clark shrugged, as if it were no big deal. “I pay attention,” he said, his eyes soft and warm. “I wrote it down the other day when we stopped by the cafeteria.” “You wrote it down?” You asked in total shock, surprise, astonishment….you didn’t know. “Yeah, I did. I wanted to make sure I got it right for you. After all, I know how particular you can be with your coffee.”

There was something about the fact that he'd taken the effort to write down your coffee order and memorise it that made your heart flutter just a little bit. You tried to push the feeling away, telling yourself it was nothing more than just a thoughtful gesture from a friend. But as he continued to surprise you with cups of coffee, each one perfectly made just how you liked it, it was getting harder and harder to deny the warm feeling that bubbled up inside you.

Your heart fluttered wildly as you watched him go about settling at his desk, almost like he had not just almost caused you a heart attack. You’ll die from heart palpitations before the age of thirty, and there’ll be no one to blame but Clark Kent.

What you didn't know was that Clark could hear it all, with his supernatural hearing, a wild grin on his face, from eye to eye.

To the dismay of his great progress, it was also around this time that it truly settled in you how real things between you and Clark were getting. Clark was having the time of his life, and you were about to bash your head into a wall because what in the hell were you doing??

Clark, sweet Clark, blissfully unaware of the internal battle within you, continued to enjoy the subtle intimacy that had developed between you two, completely smitten with you. To him, your lunchboxes felt like a love letter, and your coffee orders were his confessions.

You, on the other hand, came to a soul crashing realisation.

You…liked him. Like….like, like him. Perhaps even…love him.

You were head over heels, Lois and Cat would say so all the time as they teased you about the way you tensed and pulled at your nails when Clark was around, before making the bold move of approaching him.

It was a hard thing to admit, especially when it went against everything you'd set out for yourself. Accepting it was even more difficult. There were no other words that could put into words what you felt for Clark. Liking wasn't a strong enough word because you were ready to admit that what you felt was stronger than merely liking him. You'd already been doing that before all of this. And how could you not?

Clark was fun, witty, sassy when he wanted and overall just a handsome and charming young man who always wanted to do right by you because his momma raised him right. What was there not to love?

He looked at you like you’d hung the stars in the sky, not that you were merely their backdrop, with such love and adoration that you’d mistaken for mere friendly fondness. All those books, movies and series you’d watched had taught you nothing, had they?

As the days went on, things only continued to get crazier.

He continued recommending songs from his tastes you might like, and you’d taken to lending him books from your collection after he’d made an inquiry about one you’d brought to read on your break.

He always returned them on time and in perfect condition. He’d also started leaving annotations of certain things he’d notice while reading the book through those transparent sticky notes he stocked his desk with. You noticed how slowly the words he left behind in your books became more directive, less in harmony with what he was pointing out, more profound in thought, as if he was letting his own thoughts run rampant as he scribbled words meant for your eyes only.

And who could forget about the quotes he never fails to highlight, which speak for themselves.

Clark kept bringing you coffee in the morning, sometimes even your favourite pistachio doughnut on the side, without you even asking for it. You'd started to notice little things about him, like how his shirts fit him just right, the muscles rippling beneath, or how his hair would fall perfectly into place every time he ran his hand through it, a little curly tuff always sticking out from time to time.

And that smile! Oh, that smile was going to be the death of you.

Every gesture, every word, every look seemed to scream something more. But you refused to believe it. You kept telling yourself that you were just reading too much into things. After all, Clark was just a nice guy. He was friendly, kind, and considerate. It was natural for him to do all these things.

There was no way he could have feelings for you.

And those dates? What dates? Your outings were not dates.

Those pasta nights at the all-you-can-eat nights at the restaurant close to the office, which you would go to every Wednesday after work hours, were in no way dates, were they? You were just going out to enjoy each other as…friends…

Somehow, despite your denial of the situation, the idea of doing things like these as mere friends hurts more than your own thoughts. Your Wednesday 'not-dates' had become a weekly tradition without you even realising it. Their first ‘not date’ had happened after you two had turned in from the office late at night. Too exhausted to go home and cook, your fingers throbbing and aching from all the writing, Clark suggested trying out the place that had for the week been advertising this new, weekly event at their restaurant. Every time you sat across from him at that little booth in the back corner of the Italian restaurant, you couldn't help but secretly hope that he was feeling the same way you were. But you told yourself it was ridiculous. You were just friends, nothing more. Right? No one could really love you like that, right? Even if he did, you could not afford to go through something as challenging as a relationship, your life never going back to how it was before it began, even if you fantasise at times that you and Clark, somehow, never had many problems. That you would communicate, be open and honest and upfront about any problem as long as you were together, just because he looked like the kind of man you could do such a thing with.

But who could you fool when every Wednesday you argued incessively in front of the cashier about who was going to pay that night, knowing that Clark would not take no for an answer.

“I’m taking you out, I’m paying. No more arguments,” he'd say, the same phrase every week. You'd playfully swat at him, pretending to be annoyed, but secretly enjoying the banter. After all, it was a tradition now.

Everything you'd been feeling, everything that had developed, happened, occurred, transpired, all culminated in one of those date nights.

You'd had such a good day. Perry, after weeks of having it out with you, seemingly unhappy with the lack of interest in the column it lately had been suffering from, had approved your three new recipes for next week. Fondant potatoes with cream sauce and asparagus on the side, falafel and homemade hummus, the Lebanese way, and sticky chicken bao buns.

Raspberry Bavarian was the dessert of choice for the week.

You’d brought the serving of falafel and hummus you’d made to test the recipe, for lunch, and you and Clark ate it as your palates went to heaven and never came back. Then, seeing the day of the week, as you grabbed your coat, scarf and bag just as the clock on the wall was about to strike eight in the evening, Clark came at your side, already with his things packet and equally dressed for the December weather outside, waiting for you.

You walked under the snowy streets of Metropolis, the holiday season nigh upon the city. The streets were decorated with lights and ornaments that could only scream overconsumption and an outrageous money spent. Lois was sure to inquire about the ethical aspect of this huge sum of money spent by the mayor. But perhaps that’s what you liked about December and the holidays. It was a time that brought people together, the merriment and joy that filled the air, easing some of your disinterest in the world outside your cramped apartment.

The sight of the streets was one for sore eyes, appealing your attention in a way you felt like a child looking up in wonder at the many, blinking lights. You were so enchanted that you did not feel Clark’s eyes resting fondly on you, more fondly than the way you looked at the lights, as if you were the only light his eyes were attracted to.

He watched you with a mixture of amusement and adoration. He loved seeing how the lights in the streets reflected in your eyes, making them sparkle impossibly bright. He also loved how the cold air nipped your nose, turning the tip a delightful shade of pink. But what he loved the most was seeing you so carefree and happy, your guard down.

A Christmas angel, sent on this earth for him.

You both sat in your usual spot at the restaurant. One you'd taken to sitting at so often that every waiter knew it was unofficially reserved for you two. You never admit it was because you liked how worn in and comfortable the seats had gotten because of you two, making the whole spectacle feel just right, like a scene from one of those romcoms you replayed endlessly, wishing to be in the place of the main character for once and not one of those forgotten supporting side character no one knew the name of.

You eat three servings of pasta before you call it quits. Ravioli stuffed with artichokes and pancetta in amatriciana sauce, a fettuccini with creamy grilled zucchini and an extra saucy carbonara.

Of course, you dip your bread in the sauces lying on your plates the way the Italians do, never letting anything go to waste, eating a ‘scarpetta’ or two for each serving of pasta.

Clark is no less enthusiastic about the night than you are, gulping down four plates of his own, which you, despite watching on in complete perplexity the first few times you sat down to eat, had become the norm of these Wednesday nights. His last pasta for the night was the curious-looking creamy green coconut linguine, a sauce made of jalapenos, coconut milk, kale and spinach, which you’d eyed on the menu but had decided to forgo for the night, prioritising your first preferences.

Of course, and he would proudly admit, to having asked for the dish only because you’d taken interest in it, he’d let you steal a forkful or two to taste for yourself.

Every time you tasted something, he'd be keenly watching your reactions, his gaze fixed on your lips, taking in the way your tongue darted out to lick away at any sauce that may have clung to the corners of your lips. It was an innocent gesture, something you did without even thinking, but it made his heart flutter every time. Clark made a mental note to remember to keep ordering the strange-looking linguine whenever you were at the little Italian joint.

He would also watch as you take out your notebook, making various notes, scribbles, and badly drawn drawings of the dishes you ate, noting down certain tastes, after tastes, peculiar textures and ingredients you should try, as well as personal anecdotes of how you could make the dish and twist the recipe to make it your own. You took photos of each plate with your old, pocket, digital camera, and surely the next time you two sat down to eat, they would be printed and glued on the page of your little paper world. You even went as far as asking the waiter if the chef could tell you the way he’d gotten the sauce just right or what kind of flour he’d used for the noodles to be so firm but chewy at the same time.

Your interests were so well received that it was often the dates ended with the chefs sitting by your table as you interviewed them for the column, an excuse really to have them spill their secrets to you. You would get so excited about being given the time of their day, the way your eyes lit up when you talked about food, the way your hands animatedly gesticulated, and the way your lips moved as you eagerly asked questions.

Tonight, it was just the two of you. You liked it that way anyway. And so did Clark. Just the two of you, alone in your own little bubble, enjoying each other's company without any distractions. The world outside didn't matter when you were together like this. It was just the two of you, lost in each other's company, and it was perfect.

Clark paid, as always. Of course, such a thing did not go about happening without you putting up a fight about splitting the bill, which he, jokingly, took great offence at the mere audacity of the suggestion.

His mama ain’t raised no boor in her house.

As always, when you got on the subway to take the coincidence home, Clark was right behind you, following closely, always insisting on seeing you home till the end. It’s not safe out there at night. He always used that excuse, but in truth, you both wished for the night not to end so soon. At first, there’d always been a seat between you two. Clark had not wished to invade your personal space, which he knew you valued a lot, with his overbearing disposition and larger than life frame which he also knew intimidate you a little; but, as time passed, days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, the distance lessened, you found solace in having his big thigh press against yours, your knee bump against his, and your shoulder rubbing with his. You’d look out the window of the wagon, upon the glimmery nightscape of the city, whenever you came up the tunnels, the traincar travelled upon, captivated by the sight before you, so surreal and so real at the same time, as if you could not believe you could witness so with your own eyes, all so you could find a distraction from the way Clark’s eyes rested on your face.

As the train rumbled along, you couldn’t help but sneak a glance at him. He was so relaxed, his arm slung over the backrest of the seat, his hand so close to your own yet, at the same time, so far away. Every time the train lurched forward abruptly, his body would sway closer, bumping into yours, sending a jolt through you. And every time it happened, he would mutter a soft apology, flashing you a sheepish grin.

It was adorable, and you loved it.

And, of course, the night would not end when you both got off at your stop.

No, he would walk you home.

It wasn’t a long walk.

It was part of the reason why you were renting your apartment. So you would not have to rush in the morning to get on the first train and take it slow, which you much preferred, getting to enjoy the morning air on your slow walks. Plus, you get to wear whatever shoes you wish, seeing as you would not make crazy moves in them. Besides, the slippers you kept at the office would come in handy if the necessity arose for a quick switch of shoes.

Always the gentleman, Clark made sure to escort you to the front door of your apartment building, his hand hovering a few inches away from the small of your back, ready to steady you if you slipped on a patch of ice or offer you a hand as you climbed the few steps. But he’d never touch you, never overstepped his bounds, even if his hands ached to, his fingers itching to hold.

But there was just something in the air that night, with the way you two looked at each other. Perhaps all the jolliment for the holidays had turned you suppy, maybe it was the cold seeping your bones that made you tremble with nerves, but as you stood upon the steps of your unit, looking down at Clark, it just felt right when he leaned in to say goodbye, to inch closer and allow his lips to peck yours.

It was an innocent, chaste, barely there brush of the lips. Clark’s lips were soft if not chapped at the sides because of the cold, and yours burned with how much you’d taken your frustration upon them in a single night, but were nonetheless just as supple from the many layers of lip balm you smeared on them…just in case.

Safe to say you’d regretted the action immediately after you two parted.

Your heart raced and your breath caught in your throat, rendering you breathless. You looked up at him, cheeks flushed, eyes wide with surprise and terror, and had what you’d done. It was as if time had stopped for those few seconds.

Clark was equally stunned at what had just happened, his face a mask of disbelief. He hadn't meant to kiss you, and he wasn’t sure if that’s what you wanted to do when, despite being a step or two higher than him, you stood on your tippy toes to reach his height; it had just sort of happened. And now, he was terrified that he'd just ruined everything, despite the knowledge you both shared that you were the one who launched for the kiss.

He called out your name as you frantically made a run for your apartment, making to follow after you but bumping his legs into one of the steps, sending him flying forward as the sound of a door blowing shut echoed in his ears, lying there on the cold floor as the snow began its descent on the city once more.

He couldn't believe what had just happened, what he’d done. Well, you’d kissed him! Or…whatever, you’d kissed! …..you’d kissed you, and you'd shut the door in his face.

The sound of it slamming shut still echoed in his ears. “Way to go, Kent” he muttered to himself. “Way to screw things up.”

The following days, you evaded Clark like the plague at work whenever possible, making atrocious attempts at hiding from him when you caught sight of him, asking Lois and Cat to make excuses for your sudden disappearance. You felt so bad for him; he'd done nothing wrong, it was all you, and he was made to pay for it. But you felt even worse for yourself.

You were not deserving of Clark. He was the star boy of the office, the number one story catcher for the front page, and you were…the culinary columnist.

Clark was absolutely miserable. He'd gone from the happiest he'd ever been to absolutely heartbroken. It seemed like you were actively avoiding him at all costs. Whenever he entered a room, you'd suddenly have something to do on the other side of the building. Whenever he walked past your desk, you were conveniently never there. His heart sank each time he caught sight of you, only to watch as you turned tail and ran the other way

The worst part of this charade was that you continued making lunches for him either way. You left them on his desk whenever he wasn’t there, a neatly plated lunchbox waiting for him, but no sight of you. You had him eating them alone.

He missed you terribly, missed the sound of your voice, the sparkle in your eyes when you talked about food, the way your nose scrunched up when you made up your mind.

He missed you.

Which is why he was determined to make things right. He came into the office one morning, the face of resolution on earth, a huge bouquet in his hands, a culmination of your favourites carefully plucked, cut to the same length and bound. Your coffee, just the way you liked, warm and piping, in his other hand.

As he strolled into the office, he kept looking around for you, his eyes scanning the room for any possible sighting. He walked past Cat, who shot him a questioning look, to Lois, who raised an eyebrow at the flowers in his hand.

“Someone's in the doghouse”, Lois smirked, “who's the lucky girl?” He said your name with nonchalance, surprising both girls. Lois and Cat exchanged glances, their eyes widening in surprise. “Wait, you mean…?" Lois trailed off, a smile playing at the corners of her lips as realisation dawned on her. “Oh finally!” Exclaimed Cat, surprising a few passersby, “Go get her, big boy.” “Wish me luck” he shot the two a loopsided grin before going his way.

But when he arrived at your desk, he noticed, to his dismay, that you were not at there. Again.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, “where is she?”

He looked around, hoping to find you in the sea of coworkers and employees of the Daily Planet, among the sea of colours, which in his eyes you never failed to stand out. He found you just as you were about to enter the foil, a stack of papers in your hand, which you were taking with great attention until you noticed him standing there. It was but a moment, both of your eyes meeting and going wide, before you placed the stack of paper on Cat's desk and bolted, him on your trail.

“Please stop” he calls as he follows you up the stairs to the second floor. People scurrying off to make way for you two “Please, let's talk.”

You raced up the stairs, taking them two-by-two, your heart pounding in your chest. You heard Clark calling after you, his voice pleading, but you ignored him. You didn't want to talk, you didn't want to look into those warm puppy eyes.

“The kiss, I swear I meant it!” he exclaimed for all to hear “I….I really do like you like that!”

You could feel the eyes of your co-workers on you, their curiosity piqued by the spectacle the two of you were putting on, but you didn't care.

“I can’t do it, Clark” you exclaimed back “You’re too good for me!” “Don’t say that!” He argues back “You are too nice to me!” “I…I’ll be less nice!!” he said with desperation, not knowing what to come up with to reason with you. “Ugh!!” Your eyes brimmed with unshed tears, looking around for possible means of hiding. You practically run into the door of the women’s bathroom as you enter.

Clark stops, out of breath, sweating, in a disarray, bouquet tossed, and coffee spilt on the sides of the cup. He breaths hard, before making the decision that could change his life. He enters and is immediately ogled by the other women in the restroom, startled and alerted by him. He adjusts himself, trying to make himself more presentable as he smiles awkwardly at them.

“Sorry, ladies” he stuttered “I-I was looking for-“

He’s immediately pointed to the only stall closed.

“Think you can give us some time?”

The women all exchanged glances before nodding. “Take as much as you need,” one of them said with a smirk, “we'll just….stand outside.” He shoots them gracious smiles as they pass him by, some patting him on the shoulder for some needed courage. In a moment, it was only you, him and the silence of the space. He knocks on the door gently, testing the waters.

“Can…can I come in?”

No answer is given to his question.

He sighs, placing his forehead against the wooden door.

“Please” his voice much quieter and pleading “We…I need to talk with you. We need to talk.”

Neither this one is answered. But there is sign of life, though. The quiet sniffle he hears you trying to choke back breaks his heart. He hated it when you cried, and he hated knowing he was the cause of it. Who could have thought that Superman’s biggest obstacle would come down to a wooden stool door?

“Please, let me in. I….I’m sorry if I've caused you pain. I did not mean to when….I was just trying to show you my love for you. Please, I'm begging you, I don’t want to lose you over a little mistake. Let me in and I swear to you, I will do anything,” he begged, desperate “Just….let me explain”

He didn't think that, no matter what words he came up with, rambled on without realising their true meaning would be enough to convince you to either come out or let him in. You were stubborn like that. Once you'd made up your mind, it was hard to sway, which was why he was more than surprised to hear the lock snap open with nothing further, the door going unmoved. He took that as his initiative. There, huddled in the corner, burying yourself on the floor, was you, your eyes red and puffy, tears staining your face, hair a mess. But somehow, Clark only thought you looked even more beautiful, your hair flowing freely, your clothes ruffled from running, and your cheeks stained with tears. He closed the door behind him, taking careful steps to not startle you out of your decision as he came to sit, without taking the little space left, beside you, cramped against each other.

”Hey” he breathes, as if the sound of his voice would kill the moment of quiet. He reached out a hand, wanting so badly to wipe away the streaks from your tears, but stopping halfway, as if remembering the boundaries that had been made. “May I?” he asks, his voice gentle and barely a whisper; his hand hovers by your face, waiting for your answer.

You didn’t say anything in turn, but you also did not move away from the gesture you seem to allow. He takes the invitation, and carefully, he brushes away your tears with the pads of his thumb and index, his touch gentle, afraid that if he is too forceful, you will disappear into thin air like you seem to do these days. He didn’t want that. Even with the tears gone, his hand lingered on your face. He cups your cheek, his thumb stroking the warm, wet skin, tracing the same path that was moistened by your tears.

“I don't like it when you cry” he said, voice hoarse “it takes away from your beauty.” “Spare me,Clark” you echo his tone, voice wavering by the remaining shudders that ran through your body. “I wasn't flattering you, I was merely stating the obvious,” he tries to convince you, because he truly thinks so. You’re the prettiest girl in the office, no matter what anyone else says. You’re his pretty girl. “You are the most beautiful person I've ever met. You take my breath away” his eyes follow your averted ones, avoiding his whole face altogether, the sight too much for your pained heart, as if he were trying to commit your features to memory. He feared this might be the end, he had to make the most of it ”Even when you cry” “It can’t be the truth. I’m not that pretty” you argued, but there’s no fight in your tone, just mere resignation to the truth you were stuck believing.

But that wasn’t a truth Clark shared. He had his own version of it, nothing further from what you believed in, and he could not comprehend in what way you’d come to believe such a thing of yourself. If there was someone to blame, the next time he’ll take to the sky, a mighty superpunch might just land on the perpetrator in question. Even Superman made exceptions to the usage of his superpowers. Besides, correcting wrongs is a crucial part of who he was; the means might justify the end if it meant he got to make you happy. His head cocked slightly to the side, his face too close for your already frantically beating heart to handle.

“You're kidding, right? You're the prettiest girl in the world!” “You don’t even know enough people in the world to make such a statement, Clark”

Oh, if only you knew that he could turn that into a reality.

“And why should I care about the rest of the world when I have you right here?” he countered, a soft smile on his lips. “I only like you, after all.” “Don’t say that” you whisper “You can’t like me, you can’t-“ “Why not?” He cut you off.

The urgency to prove you wrong before you could make a statement, false by all the laws in the universe and those beyond the Milky Way, ruffled his feathers. “Give me a good reason. A good reason, not something that stems from your outrageously untrue view of yourself.”

“Because you're you!” You cry, before realising just how much you'd raised your voice, taking a moment to calm down, compose yourself in the little way you could without looking neurotic enough to be put in an asylum.“You’re Clark Kent… number one runner for the front page, the only interviewer of the great Superman. Everyone likes you, everyone wants to be friends with you, and I…” you gulped down the hard knot that threatened to close your troath of words or air “I'm me. I'm lucky if people even notice i'm not there in the room, and even if I am, I go hours without being talked to. I ran a culinary column that is on the last strands of being shut down, were it not for the newspaper being the best of the city” you shook your head, voice weavering with a new, fresh set of tears “No one probably even reads that crap…"

"You really believe that about yourself?" he asks, his hand falling from your face, his whole body taking in the shock of your words “You really think you're not worth the attention that you truly deserve? What about me? Will you say that my attention to you is unwarranted?”

It hurt him, having to see you think so little of yourself when he thought you were one of the most fantastic parts about earth that made it his forever home, even if he could have the whole galaxy for himself.

“I don't know why you care so much, Clark” you sniffled “You…you could have anyone. You're so charming and likeable….I know a girl or two who would want to go out with you. Hell, I'm even sure Lois has grown something for you.” “You're right, I could have anyone” the words startle you, a stabbin pain blooming in your heart before he continues, not allowing what he was sure had been a running down of all your worst thoughts “and i want to have you. I choose you, it'll always be you, it has always ever been you since the day i met you. I've never had eyes for anyone but you, please believe me.” he confesses “I only….love you.”

There, he said it. Finally, he revealed to you his true feelings for you. His breathing quickened, his eyes never leaving yours, his heart rate quickening, as he waited for your response.

“Please” he pleads softly, his hand coming to rest on top of yours “Say something, anything….say you believe me.” “Why?” You only whisper, eyes wide, startled, alarmed at what was happening, “I don’t…I don’t understand.” His hand tightens around yours, his gaze growing intense, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes, one you thought he gave to everyone but truly only reserved for you. “Because….I am hopelessly, desperately in love with you and the thought of not having you… It kills me. You are…so kind and caring. Even if you don't try to show it, because I know you think you're going to get hurt. You care so much you cannot not care, no matter how much you pretend or shy away from wanting to. And it hurts me that you don't realise how valuable you are to each of us. When I first started working here, so many were wary of me, and almost no one approached me. But you, you came up to me, despite how I could see that you were hesitant about doing so. You spoke to me all morning, and then you offered me those beautiful eclairs you’d made for the team and I….I was in love.” He shook his head as if he wished to reiterate his words, “It-It’s not the food that made me madly in love. I don’t want you to think I only like you because of the food you make or because I want to find a way to reciprocate the gesture with an even bigger one. I-I mean, I like the food, but- but it’s not that! It’s the gesture that many would not have thought of even considering, but you did! I knew you were lying the first time you offered me that lunchbox, on not wanting to waste food. I never said anything because I know how you would have gotten had you realised I knew and I-!!”

He didn’t know you had it in you to stop his blabbing and rambling in the way you did, and yet you did. The feel of your lips on his had his eyes go wide, comically so. His hands hang in the air, not knowing where to place them, despite the nerves beneath the skin wishing to plant them on the handles of your hips. No, he could not do such a thing! It was too early, too fast, too risky! What if you got scared and ran off again? He settled for cradling your face, his enormous palms, rough and raw, held you like a precious jewel waiting to break, frail and so precious in the hands capable of such strength as his. The kiss is urgent, messy. Your lips clash in a way that speaks of your inexperience, and yet Clark does not mind. If anything, he relishes the idea of being the one who would teach you how to melt your lips with his in ways you would never with another. You’re pulled apart for your need of air; otherwise, Clark was sure he would have spent hours letting his lips know the shape and taste of yours. He watches as you hold your eyes shut, as if afraid that letting them open would break the dream you probably thought this to be. But there was nothing more in the world that he wished for than for you to realise that this was no dream, that he was sitting there, just as flushed and breathless as you were. He coaxes your eyes open with gentle circles on his thumbs on your cheeks, his touch soft and gentle, and you fight to keep your heart in your cheek at the clear star stuck look on his face.

“You talk too much” you whisper, your lips pursing in a pout of bashfulness, knowing there was no escape from what had just happened. “I just wanted you to know everything” he returns in kind “I need you to know, to understand, to see. I can’t bear going on without you knowing so.” He held your gaze in the cramped space, his eyes burning with a mixture of vulnerability and love. “I only want you, no one else, ever. Please, give me… us…a chance.” “Don’t beg me, Clark” A smile, hesitant but twitching to come out, blossoms on your face like a sunflower coming to face the sun after a long night. “It takes away from your beauty.” You echo the words he’d reserved for you. A soft laugh, yet loud and booming through the echo of the restroom, a warm sound that filled the small space around you. “Touché” he said, his hand finding their place around the low of your waist despite his earlier reluctance, fitting just right in the space, fitting you just right in his arms, as you practically lay over him. At your lack of unease or discomfort, a glimmer of hope flickered in him like a flame. “You have no idea how much you mean to me, do you?” “I'm sorry that it is so hard for me to believe it” you bite at your lips, and despite not meaning so, Clark thinks it's the hottest thing he’s seen you do. “I am just….I don't know how to…” it seems that you just can't find the right words, unlike him, who could give a whole lecture, as you’d seen, about when, how, and why he’d fallen for you.

But for Clark, that is not a problem; he understands either way. He'll always understand you

“It's okay” he soothes you by running a hand through your hair, gentle as to not mess it any further, his voice warm and reassuring “You don't have to explain anything to me. I understand.” “You really are too good for me.” “Maybe I am or maybe I'm just perfect for you, ever considered that?"

You huff in exasperated fondness, your eyes finding the wall as your heart threatened to give away.

“Come now. Don’t look away,” he gently guides your face back on his, through a gentle grip of your chin, where a soft, gentle smile, dimples on display, greeted you. The moment was electrifying as you stared at each other, and as if without the need for words, the longing in your eyes was clear to him. He took the initiative of the moment, kissing those soft lips of yours for a second time in the day.

He would pat himself on the back if he could.

Electricity and warmth surged through you at the first press of your lips together. His mouth was warm and soft, moving against yours in a tender, almost hesitant dance, as if he was testing the waters, much gentler than the ones you’d put him through, which had resulted in the slight strain of his trousers. Despite his strength, he was careful with you; you could feel the restraint he had over himself, the desire that was bubbling within him was just under the surface, but he held back, simply enjoying the kiss in the cramped, small bathroom stall.

This wasn’t entirely how he’d imagined his morning to go. But god, if he wasn’t enjoying it. He hissed and cursed under his breath at the cramp that shot to his legs “These damn bathrooms are too small” he tried to make do, trying to find a more comfortable position, holding you in his arms and taking you with him. You flushed like a tomato at the realisation you were practically straddling him.

“You’re the one that’s too big” you stutter, without realising what you said, only to flush further at the fool you were making of yourself. “Yeah, I guess I am too big for these bathrooms” he agreed, not fully taking on the second meaning of your words, his gaze fond and amused. “But you're just the right size” he said, winking at you

It was decided. You would die in this bathroom, next to a toilet. You could only cover your face with your hand to allow you the dignity of not seeing Clark’s reaction to the inevitable. He gently took your wrists in his hands, pulling them away. “Don’t hide, please” he said, tone light, sincerity in his eyes. “You're adorable when you blush like that”

You whined, the flush on your face only growing in colour, to a scary degree. Before you could shy away once more, he'd kissed you again, trapping you in his arms once more. You parted when in need of air; otherwise, your lips seemed unable to pluck yourselves from each other, not willing to let the moment die. He whispered sweet nothings each time his lips were not on yours, which you were unable to bear and swallowed with your own fair share of kisses. Who could have thought kissing felt this good? Each kiss was sweeter than the last, and the only sounds in the cramped space were your mingled breathing and the quiet meeting of your lips, punctuated by the occasional soft sound or sigh. It was intoxicating, the way his lips seemed moulded to yours and how your body seemed to fit perfectly in his arms. He'd lost track of time, completely entranced and consumed by the sensation, forgetting just where you two were.

“Are yall done? We need to use the bathroom!!” The sudden interruption of one of the many impatient girls waiting outside snapped the two of you out of your reverie, the bubble of intimacy around you bursting at the sudden reminder that you were very much still in the middle of a public bathroom. Clark pulled away from you with a start, his eyes wide and cheeks flushed, so fast he’d banged his head back against the wall of the stall, your hand coming to hide the way your mouth hung open. He looked at you, equally flustered and embarrassed to be caught, while the person continued raging on, ruffling impatiently.

“Um…we-we'll be right out!” he called back.

You stared at each other in a breathless silence before you both burst into a fit of giggles. He chuckled, his heart fluttering at the sight of you laughing, happy beyond relief.

“I guess we got a little carried away” he said quietly, his expression fond. “Just a bit” you breathe, winding down from the moment “I wouldn’t mind making them wait a little longer…” “You wouldn’t? The girl I know would never be so incosiderate as to let people go without using the toilet so she could keep kissing her boyfriend” “You’re turning me into a rebel” you smile, your fingers on his chest drawing imaginary circles “There’s only one to blame, and I hardly think people would believe you if you laid the blame on me. After all, I’m the girl who sits at her desk, eats yoghurt every two hours and tries to solve the crosswords on last week’s edition of the newspaper” “Guess I'm a bad influence, then, huh? Don't let my mama know that.” You chuckled, a laugh loud and bosterous, “Again with this? I don’t know your Ma, Clark.” He joined in the laughter, “We should remedy that then” he grinned “I just know she would like you as much as I do.”

Another demand is made from the door of the restroom, interrupting you two once more, reminding you that you were in a public bathroom. He sighs, reluctantly putting space between you two

“I guess we should probably get out of here, huh?” The unwillingness is evident “I have to give you these first.” Slowly, from where they'd lain forgotten beside him, he reached to hand what remained of the perfectly bounded bouquet of flowers and the now cold cup of coffee. You take them from his hands, gently cradling the bouquet of flowers in your arms while holding the coffee cup in the other. A small, but rather sullen and trembling, smile tugs at your lips. “I'm sorry about the weeks I spent avoiding you" you apologise, almost ashamed at your words “I just…got so scared that night…when we kissed.” “I know” he said softly, a hand coming to tug a stray strand of hair behind your ear “and I understand. I do. I just…hate it when you avoid me. It hurts. I thought I ruined everything.” “It’s my fault. I just…get this way when big changes happen in my life.” “I know you get scared at the thought of change. But I need you to know that i'm not going anywhere. Don't think of it as a change but rather…an upgrade. We're updating the status in our lives.” “You said the same when you began following me on Instagram” “Well, that worked out pretty perfectly, didn't it?” he smirks, amusement dancing in his eyes “Just that instead of online friends we become… real life partners” he stopped “if t-that's what y-you want. I m-mean-“ “I do want to be your girlfriend, Clark” you reassure gently “I really do like you, lots”

He exhaled a shaky breath, the tension that he had been carrying in his shoulders for weeks suddenly disappearing. The thought of you rejecting him had haunted him like a phantom, and now, to hear you say that you wanted to be with him…it made his heart want to leap out of his chest.

“Oh, thank god. I was so worried you would say no! You have no idea how happy that makes me” he said, his eyes locked on yours, the look in them almost tender. Then he chuckled softly, giving in to the urge to tease you just a little. “So…does this mean I can stop trying to woo you?” “You’ve already wooed me” “Good. Because I wasn’t going to give up anytime soon.”

You sigh, shaking your head “You’ll grow bored of me very fast” “I doubt that” he smiled “And even if I do, whose to say I won’t like to be bored with you?”

Undoubtedly, regardless of the success of the week’s newspaper, the story that was most talked about around the office that week was how Clark Kent went inside a bathroom as the most desired bachelor of the entire building, to come out a taken man, boyfriend to the culinary columnist he was entirely, madly, in love with.

. ━━━━━━━━━━━ ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━━

AN: Part two? anyone? Perhaps with a little more Superman to spice things up.

[asiatic-apple]

Also (I requested #10 with Caleb) I 4g9t to say fem reader plsss

Thanks for the request, anon! I really hope you like subby caleb because this got away from me and I went fully into “good boy” territory SORRY (I am 100% okay with redoing this if you don’t vibe with it, just lmk)

Also, this one is a bit longer than a drabble. Consider it a bday special lol

Reminder: requests are closed!

Command me

Caleb x female reader

Prompt: finding their partner’s sex toy/toys and making them play with it in front of them

Content: submissive caleb & dominant reader, a few uses of “good boy”, lots of teasing, JOI with a fleshlight, edging, a very small moment of objectification (aimed at caleb)

“This...this isn’t fair,” Caleb hiccups through needy whines and endless moans spilling past parted lips. “You weren’t supposed to find it.” He says that as if it’ll make you stop this sweet torture. You have no intention of stopping, though.

His cheeks are a bright shade of pink, his chest flushed and beading with sweat where his shirt is pulled up above his pecs. Sprawled across the bed, his twitching thighs are spread just enough to frame the toy you’re holding.

“No?” Your voice sounds saccharine-sweet, but your eyes are full of mischief. “Then you shouldn’t have hidden it somewhere so obvious. Top drawer, Caleb? Really?”

He huffs, breath shaky from how you’ve been teasing him nonstop since you found the toy. You let your fingers drag along the clear silicone fleshlight, slow and deliberate as you stroke it up and down his throbbing cock.

“I was curious,” you purr. “I had no idea you got off with this when I’m not around.”

Caleb squirms. His mouth opens, closes, then opens again when he finally has the strength to speak. “It’s not like that, pips. I only—fuck—used it before we–”

“Show me,” you cut him off with a soft command.

He blinks up at you, dazed and shuddering when you abruptly pull your hand away from the toy. “Wh–what?” he sputters.

“Show me how you fuck it.” You settle back against the headboard of the bed, giving his cock a pointed look to let him know you’re serious. “Come on, baby. I wanna see exactly what you do when I’m not here.”

Caleb swallows hard, his fingers already instinctively curling around the base. “You’re bein’ so mean today,” he murmurs, but there’s no real protest in his voice. You can tell he’s enjoying this. That telltale pitch of his voice means he’s slipping, already giving into his desire.

“Yeah? Well you must like it because you're hard as a rock,” you reply with a smirk. “Go on, Caleb. Start stroking it. Slowly.”

He whines at your instructions but obediently pulls the toy off his length before sinking its slick opening back down the flushed head of his cock. His breath punches out in a gasp as he slides in all the way, the suction already so wet and obscene.

You lean back, watching him greedily. “Hm, that’s a good boy,” you coo with a too-large grin. And, oh, he really likes the sound of that. A loud, uncontrollable moan escapes him, and it makes your pussy clench around nothing.

“Fuck into it,” you say, voice getting lower with desire at the sight of your own personal porn star. “I want to see your hips move.”

Caleb shudders, rolling his hips upward with a groan, the toy squelching around him. His eyes flutter closed, brows drawn tight as he fucks it faster like he’s desperately chasing his release far too soon.

“Nuh-uh.” You reach forward and tap his cheek. “Eyes on me.”

He whimpers but obeys, blinking up at you, glassy-eyed and panting.

“That’s better.” You chuckle, not yet ready to go easy on him. “Now slow down again. I want you right on the edge.”

He tries, biting his lip hard enough to leave a slightly bloody dent, muscles quivering as he slows his thrusts.

You can tell how hard it is for him. His whole body aches for friction—for your hand, your mouth, your pussy if he would be lucky enough. But you don’t give him any of it. Just your voice and strict commands.

“You like this, don’t you?” you whisper. “You like when I tell you exactly how to jerk off?”

He nods frantically, chest heaving. “Fuck, y–yes, I do. But please, touch me, just a little. Need your warmth. You’re so soft,” his garbled string of pleas is incoherent, but you hear the next part clearly: “This…this isn’t the same.”

“Nope,” you reply, a denial that’s sickeningly sweet and makes him deflate a little. “You don’t get my warmth right now. You’ve got your toy, remember? Isn’t that enough?”

He lets out the most pathetic sound, hips stuttering as he fucks the fleshlight harder again in an attempt to end your teasing sooner.

“I–I’m gonna come,” he warns with a strangled cry. Even though he’s so far gone in the throes of his pleasure, your sweet Caleb still has enough awareness to ask permission before spilling his load inside the toy. “Please, please let me–”

You lean in close, lips at his ear and fingers tickling his taut chest. “No,” you scold, “hold it right there. Don’t you dare come until I say you can.”

He chokes on a moan, shaking beneath you and sucking in deep breaths as he tries to delay his orgasm. You watch with near-sadistic glee as the muscles in his thighs tense and then relax with the effort it takes him to hold back.

“That’s it,” you murmur. “You look so good like this—fucking yourself while I watch. Bet you wish it was my pussy, though. Don’t you?”

He nods helplessly, cock twitching inside the clear toy with each labored breath he takes. You drag your nails down his stomach, and the dull scratch makes him leak even more precum inside the silicone casing.

He’s still right at the edge, hanging on by a thread, but you’re not yet done playing with your favorite fuck toy.

“Go slow again,” you demand with a smile. “Just the tip now.”

He whimpers, sliding out until just the swollen head remains inside. And then he starts shallowly fucking the entrance with trembling restraint.

“God, you’re such a mess,” you murmur, eyes locked on the beautifully flushed red tip of his cock. “Do you even know how to make yourself feel good without me telling you what to do?”

He shakes his head quickly, voice wrecked. “No. I—please, I need to come. I can’t—I can’t hold it any longer.”

“You still need to earn it.” You lean back again, crossing your arms as you watch him. “Show me how badly you want it. Stroke all the way down. Stop. Now just the head.” He follows all your instructions to a tee, body shuddering as he struggles to hold his orgasm at bay. “Good, now again.”

You talk him through it the whole time, forcing him to keep speeding up then slowing down over and over again. Caleb obeys every command with a sob—fucking the toy deep, then pausing, shuddering, and repeating it again with tears pricking the corners of his eyes.

Eventually, you can see how close he really is: one more stroke and he’ll be gone. You know his body just as well as he does, so it’s clear he won’t be able to hold on much longer.

You wait one more beat, watching him tremble and beg through gritted teeth. And finally, you nod with a giddy chuckle. “Alright, alright. You can come for me now, sweetheart. Go on…that’s it.”

He lets out a strangled cry, hips snapping up hard as he plunges into the toy and spills inside it. You watch him unravel, utterly ruined, mouth open and cheeks flushed all the way to his ears.

He looks so damn cute. So needy and all yours. And his broken whine makes your thighs press together in search of some friction of your own.

When he finally collapses, panting and spent, you lean down to press a kiss to his cheek.

“You were such a good boy for me,” you praise with a gentle smile.

He seems to melt under your long-awaited touch, and you make a mental note to grab some water for him after he’s caught his breath—and then clean him up and smother him with cuddles.

His lips chase yours, searching for a reassuring kiss that you can’t deny him any longer. You giggle when he keeps trying to steal another peck from you, his warm breath tickling your face. 

“Hm,” you murmur against his lips, “since you followed instructions so well…” Your voice drops to a whisper. “I’ll let you come inside me next time.”

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divider by cursed-carmine

[whokilledsamara]

HEYY POOKIE!!! I was wondering if you could do a Mr. Crawling from homicipher x a fem reader smut.(idk if you do fem reader if you don't feel comfortable just do gn)

THANK YOU SO MUCH IF YOU DO THIS!!! ♡♡♡ I HOPE YOU HAVE A GREAT DAY!!

ENDLESS

a Mr. Crawling {homicipher} x reader fic. {an: hi friend!! ofc! i actually prefer writing fem {afab} because it is what i am and i find it easier to write for. you have a good day aswell :)}

warnings! : not too much for this one, hes a friendly boy. smut, blood mention, claustrophobia, size difference, switch!reader, afab, female genitalia described, mr. crawling has no idea what hes doing, language border. sorry there isnt TOO much plot on this one, i need to study more on the game and plus i didnt really know how to write his character.

{an : this takes place in the part where Mr. Scarletella walks past the room, and Mr. Crawling has to protect/shield you. my apologies if it isnt completely accurate, i have yet to watch a full playthrough.}

theres.. blood on the floor. you make a mental note of as you walk down the eerie hallway, "Mr. Crawling" or so you called him, close behind you.

he muttered the same word over and over to you, in a hushed yet worried voice. with not a single understanding of what he was saying, you took his facial expressions as a better way to figure it out.

your best guess was that he was attempting to say "unsafe." as his veiny hand kept pointing down the hallway. "unsafe?" you ask in a curious tone. he pauses for a second before nodding.

halting your movements, you stare at him nervously, your eyes darting from him to down the hallway. "i have too.." you say softly as you look at him.

he tilts his head in lack of understanding but allows you to continue walking, close behind you on his knees.

turning the corner, there is more blood and chains on the wall.

gross.

you think to yourself. your head snaps up as you hear footsteps seemingly getting closer to you, and before you can react, you are jerked into the closest room and underneath the usually crawling man.

"w-wha... what are you doing..?" you whisper up at him, his worried expression flicking from you to the door.

he lets out a hushed whine, and again, in a language you cant understand, he huffs out panicked words. from your previous understanding with the others, you get the words "someone else, near"

you instantly shut your mouth, his body hovering over you in attempt to shield you from whatever was walking past. thats when you see it.

a tall, slender man with red hair, covered in red clothing, and a.. red umbrella for some reason, walking past.

the man pauses, static around him, before he continues walking as if he didn't notice you. your body instinctively huddles closer to Mr. Crawling, wrapping your arms around his neck and pushing your body against his.

after a few minutes, and after both of you are sure the tall man is gone, he starts to whimper, his forearms holding him above you, and his knee so perfectly placed in between your legs.

what you thought was chaste, was him feeling an unknown desire for something he had never felt before.

his whimpers turn into almost desperate whines, and you finally look up at him. while you cant see his eyes, his face is a deep red and light pants leave his mouth.

"a-are you okay..?" you ask in a hushed voice. while he doesnt understand you, he understands your body language. he presses his knee further into your clothed core, your body instantly reacting and jerking. "a-oh.." you flinch, hands sliding down his cloth clad chest.

his hands make their way up your body, testing the waters and curiously grabbing your plush skin. the cold concrete floor wasnt making it easier to stay focused, along with his cold hands grabbing anything he could.

"fuck.. i cant believe this is happening.." you mutter more to yourself than anything. his knee still pressed in between your legs. grabbing his hand, you trail it up under your shirt and place it on your heavy breast- allowing him to explore.

he begins kneeding it, with an unknown curiosity. your breathing come out in short huffs and gentle moans, moans that he seems to enjoy hearing.

"do you even... have the equipment to be doing this..?" you ask, motioning to his groin. his eyes follow your hand, and he tilts his head while staring at it. he pulls his hands out from under your shirt and slips down the cloth covering his groin.

fuck hes big.. his heavy and semi-hard appendage springs out, a slight throb to it. your hand experimentally reaches out to touch it, its hot and leaking. his body instinctively jerks as your hand grazes it, a needy plea in his sounds.

well.. if im gonna die here i might aswell..

you slowly begin stroking it, his mouth agape and hips jerking towards your hand.

he gently reaches for your clothing, quick yet gentle as he slides down your pants. you involuntarily squeak, but dont make a move to stop him as his hand curiously grazes your folds. with a swift motion, he pushes a finger inside your entrance, tilting his head with confusion as you moan heavily.

wetness grows on his hand, leaking down his forearm. "oh fuck..." you breath shakily, pumping him faster. his face scrunches up and he lets out a cute noise, moving his finger faster. after a hot minute of this, you pull your hand off much to his dismay, and you gently remove his hand from you. as you position yourself in a slightly different way under him, you make a 'come here' motion with your finger. he obediently complies, above you once more.

teaching him what to do was kind of hard with the language barrier but you made it work.

it wasnt long before he was slipping his length inside of you, stretching you as far as you could go.

sure it hurt like hell, but you couldn't deny the pleasure that came with it. his thrusts were unpredictable, due to his lack of experience.

he was good, really good in fact, and teaching him what to do was quite easy as a fast learner.

you let out a harsh whine as his tip grazes your cervix, and his hips pause, eyes focused on your face. another word from that confusing language. "you, okay?" he asks. you nod hastily and reach out, grabbing his hip and pulling him back deeper. luckily he gets the hint, and starts moving again.

a white ring forms around the base of his length, his breathing heavy and hitching with each thrust. his long, skinny hand covers your mouth, preventing most of your noises from escaping your lips.

no matter how much he wanted to hear them, he had to keep you safe.

his thrusts became sloppier, signaling his upcoming orgasm. yours was approaching aswell, and quickly you reach your fingers down, rubbing in a rhythm he noticed. he looks from your face to your hand, shoving it out of the way and replacing it with his own, rubbing harsh circles on your bead.

soon after, he had you coming undone on him, cunt clenching and unclenching around him. his whining hit a peak and his surprisingly cold seed shot through you. he came a lot, filling you to the brim and leaning over you.

his large form casted a shadow over your body, his hair falling on each side of your face as he desperately pressed his lips against yours, his cum seeping around him and out of you. harsh pants and whimpers fill the small room, as he pulls out and hurriedly pulls your clothing back on, not wanting to get caught.

he notices your struggle to stand, moving to his knees to help you up. after everything is stable, you and him make your way through the long corridors, hopefully finding an exit to this place.

maybe we can try again..

{an: this was so fun to make!! i kinda procrastinated a bit, so i apologize if it is sloppy. i don't know much about Homicipher other than my deep attraction to the characters XD}

{ made by @whokilledsamara }

[kathartic-musings]

NSFW alphabet Morpheus/ Dream of the Endless

A = Aftercare

Surprisingly gentle. He may be cold to the waking world, but in the Dreaming? He treats you like you're fragile, especially if you're mortal. He worships you and your body, think caresses, velvet blankets, wine, snacks, sweet words.

B = Body Part (his favorite)

Your eyes. He is obsessed with how they flutter close in pleasure — or stay wide and glassy. Dream likes to see your pleasure, and your eyes are gates to your soul. He also really enjoys looking at your lips and hearing your voice when you beg him to continue or urge him to go faster or slower.

He probably likes his hands most, because they are the physical connection between you but as it's not really his body, he's not that attached.

C = Cum

Never messy. Dream is meticulous. It will end up exactly where he wants it, which usually is inside of you. He is old-fashioned in that way.

D = Dirty Talk

Rare, but when he does speak during sex, it will ruin you. Low, deliberate, an intimate growl or whisper. Think: “You belong with me." He will not tease you much verbally though as it's more of a reverent act for him.

E = Experience

He is the Dreaming. He’s seen every fantasy and every perversion since the dawn of thought. Personal experience is somewhat less extensive but he is very attentive and he reads your body like a menu.

F = Favorite Position

Missionary at first: he's in control and it's very intimate. But the moment you flip the dynamic, it’s over. He likes control, but he also likes watching what you do when you think you have it. And when he sees how much you enjoy this, how you get pleasure from him, he'll want more of this right away. He would never admit it, but he likes yielding control now and then, the weight of the universe somewhat shifted off his shoulders for a while when he is at your mercy. He won't ever let you tie him up in the real world though. Too soon.

G = Goofy

Absolutely not. Morpheus doesn’t do goofy. He does “sacred ritual of union beneath a dying star” energy. If you giggle, he will pause, confused, his prickly pride looking to be offended. But if you kiss him through it, he softens.

H = Hair

Soft, lush, always slightly wild like he just rolled out of a meadow. He’ll let you tug it, twist it around your fingers, bury your face in it while he fucks you like a dream you don’t want to end. Down there, he's probably not perfectly groomed, but it's not a wild tangle either.

I = Intimacy

He doesn’t understand it fully, but he craves it. Deeply. You’ll catch him studying you while you sleep, just to feel close. He lovebombs you early on because he doesn't know slow and steady. He doesn't do halves, either, and it will mostly be on his terms. Touches. Gifts. Whispered words. And he will expect you to return it.

J = Jack Off

Almost never. He’s above that — in theory. But if he dreams of you? If you haunt his mind long enough? He will give in. And when he does, it’s dark and desperate and entirely about you.

K = Kinks

Control, worship (being worshipped and worshipping you), dreamplay (just using the Dreaming basically), bondage with silk and shadow, edging, whispered affirmations. He's not cruel, he would never hurt you, but he likes to play with power and dominance, especially when he knows he has to upper hand.

L = Location

When you're in the Dreaming, then all over the place. One moment you're in his throne room, the next you're suspended above a sea of stars. Your moans echo in a cathedral of forgotten gods. No place is off-limits. And in reality? There's no place on earth where he doesn't want you, so...

M = Motivation (what turns him on)

Your desire for him. Your love for him. Morpheus really needs this attraction. Also he seems to go for people who are good-natured and honourable, so that too, probably. And then, once this is established, you yielding to his dominance will be as much of a turn-on as you resisting him or seducing him.

N = No (hard limits)

Pain. He detests cruelty or humiliation for its own sake. Also he doesn't seem like he's up for sharing. His pride won't allow it. Otherwise, considering his age, he's probably tried everything at least once.

O = Oral (Giving/Receiving)

Both. And he's skilled. When he eats you out, it’s slow, hypnotic, like a story being told on your skin. When you go down on him, he watches like a god accepting an offering.

P = Pace

Either agonizingly slow, teasing you to madness or sudden and overwhelming, like being caught in a storm of stars. Rarely in between. Always passionate.

Q = Quickies

Not usually. Sex is a ritual to him. But if you ask, or tempt him? He’ll pull you into a dark corner of the Dreaming and make time stop for just long enough to ruin you.

R = Risk

He has no shame. But you do. And he likes pushing you to the edge of that. He won’t get caught — he’s Dream. But he’ll let you think you might be.

S = Stamina

Infinite. Literally. He’s an Endless. The real question is how long can you last?

T = Toys

He doesn’t need them — he creates anything. A whisper becomes a silk rope. A memory becomes a vibrating echo inside you. He’s only limited by your imagination… or his.

U = Unfair (teasing)

Unfair. Always teasing. He’s into dreamplay: form shifting mid-act, scenarios from your subconscious unfolding around you. He'll let you fuck your fantasy and then ask how it compared to him (he will not allow himself to be eclipsed by a dream). He sends you wicked dreams. You’ll wake up wet, breathless, your legs shaking and he’ll appear in the doorway, smirking, pretending he has no idea of the effect he has on you. Not pretending well though.

When you tease him, that'll take him so time to get used to but he'll love it. From innocent touches to innuendo or comments to that special dress he likes on you.

V = Volume

Quiet, but intense. Low grunts, reverent moans, the occasional gasp when you surprise him. If he says your name while coming, it’s the closest he gets to prayer.

W = Wild Card

He longs so much to belong to someone, to you, that all intimacy is much more than just desire. All sex is always driven by affection and his wish to connect emotionally forever.

X = X-Ray (What’s Under the Robes)

Lithe, cold skin like moonlight, but responsive to your heat. More muscle than you’d expect, all sinew and shadow. And yes, the cock is real, and perfect, and dream-forged to your desire.

Y = Yearning

God-tier. Ancient, aching longing, the kind that creates galaxies. If Morpheus wants you, it’s not casual. It’s obsession, devotion, eternal ache. You feel it across every plane.

Z = Zzz (how quickly he falls asleep)

He doesn't sleep but he'll take care of you. Stay close to you. And he'll definitely peek into your dreams to see whether you enjoyed it. And he'll take notes.

[prkhaven]

DEEPEST DESIRE — p.sh

warnings: smut minors do not interact, unprotected sex, profanity, spit, rich!sunghoon, creampie, choking, belly bulge, petnames (princess, sweetheart, good girl) — wc: 2k

SUNGHOON wasn’t a man of many words especially when it came to what he wanted but he couldn’t help but express the desperate need for you

and while he couldn’t outright say it, it doesn’t mean he felt it any less. and it certainly didn’t stop him from showing it to you.

left to only shower you in riches just to get mere kisses. he relished in the way you would drop to your knees and leave the trail of wet kisses from his abdomen to his chest.

he’d laid back, his arm resting ontop of the couch as he looked down to let you do your work or whatever it was what you did to him. as long as you stayed closed to him, he didn’t care what it took.

“right there princess” he slurred when your flushed out cheeks and swollen lips sucked on his already bruised neck, “right there”

you straddled the side of his lap, your clothed self landing right on top of the bulging erection. with no matter how many times you’re in this position, you will never get used to the butterfly feeling in your stomach.

“see you’re wearing my necklace” you don’t respond but when he grasped the chain and pulls your head attached to his neck, you stare at him with wide eyes

he creased the side of your face with a smirk you knew held false care. “you know i like it when you respond back sweetheart”

“i thought it went well with the dress” you looked through your eyelashes and he couldn’t help but smirk seeing the piece of clothing he bought too

well everything you practically own and are wearing right now was all bought from him. it was an endless supply of your spoiled needs and his ongoing desire for you.

it was a win-win in your books.

you both get a good fuck and you walk away, spoiled rotten.

“it looks perfect” he hummed softly before hiking the said dress past where they clung to, “i think it would look nicer off though” he stops before exposing you bare

“the necklace?” you fake innocence and sunghoon holds backs before slipping higher up your dress

“none of that bullshit, you know what i mean” he says and you didn’t even attempt to stop him when your dress is pulled off with ease and you’re left in your panties

sunghoon zeroes in the sight of his engraved initials in the heart of your covered pussy dip. he pulls the material until the elastic snapped against your skin making you squeal.

he trails around your body, noticing the perks of your hardening nipples with the cold air, while he would usually focus on your entire body, practically worshiping your entire being.

he’s needy and you’re needy from the moment you saw each other. so he wasn’t going to waste time.

your mouth drops when he twist your nipples between his fingers and you jerk away but he holds your throat before lulling your head back just enough for his mouth to align with yours.

sunghoon grips your cheeks to pry them open for space. you blink rapidly as you watch the precision as a glob of spit trickles down from his mouth into your opened one.

accepting what was given to you, you hum happily and gulped it down but the sound was drowned out by sunghoon as he crashed his lips onto yours—drinking up every sound leaving you.

he gripped your hips and dug his fingers into your flesh before slightly tapping at the side. you instantly knew what it meant and didn’t take long lifting your body enough to wiggle him out of his pants.

you didn’t stop the kiss, you let yourself make mistakes fumbling with his buckle until it finally became undone and the buttons popped open as you released him from his pants and boxer in one go.

sunghoon chuckles softly, “someone’s eager” he holds your lower back before tracing his fingers to the outline of your panties before pulling them to the side just enough for you to align him to your entrance, “can’t seem to think without my cock inside of you huh?”

you didn’t respond when you impaled yourself with him in a swift motion. your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head as your pussy fluttered around the shaft buried deep inside of you.

“fuck princess you really couldn’t wait, could you?” while the chuckle meant to be lighthearted, sunghoon’s head was reeling

no preparation, no lube, absolutely nothing beside your slick and his precum and he still slipped inside of you with ease. you even still manage to grip him so tight—what a heaven that he could never give up.

and you didn’t waste any time. you rocked your hips in an unrhythmic motion trying to chase the pleasure only sunghoon gave you.

lazily watching you work yourself on him was a sight he needed burned in his mind. how your breast jumped with every plop back on him, how you threw your head back each time he reached just the right spots in you and his all time favorite when you moan his name like it’s the only thing you’ve ever known.

sunghoon’s hand reached to your throat and slightly put pressure making a broken moan erupt from you. you claw at his forearm but you still rode him like no tomorrow.

rocking your hips and focusing how his length filled your inside until there was no empty space left. each jump on him left you seeing stars and a delicious delight of him hitting the spot only he could hit.

“sunghoon! hoon!” you weakly wailed out to him as you attempted to pick up the pace and sunghoon watched you

every detail was taken into his mind and he saw how the necklace he bought clung to your sticky sweaty body. his hand loosened around your neck and you whined at the release of pressure but when he gripped your necklace you froze when he pulled your body closer to his.

you hold his shoulders when your head nuzzled in his neck and he rammed his hips up to meet you more than halfway. you cry and dig into his skin and yet, he pulls harder and slams his hips upwards.

“absolutely perfect. taking me like a good fucking girl, makes me want to spoil you more and more”

“a reward for being so good” he didn’t expect any response but when the constant moans are ripped out of you, he smiles proudly at the attempts

“my good girl sweetheart” he whispers lustfully into the shell of your ear before nibbling on your earlobe

you fluttered around sunghoon. the praise nearly making you fold more than you would like to admit it. however with his thrust now taking over as you sit and take him. you let your body become limp on top of his, only running your hands through his pushed back hair, disheveling it more in the process.

you were holding onto him for the only support you could get, each time he slid in and out of you, the more you grew closer to your orgasm. sunghoon was on a clear cut mission and it wouldn’t end after only one.

he gripped tighter on your necklace that it snapped under the pressure. you gasped at the jewels falling in between to the ground. but instead of being in distraught, sunghoon chuckles at the sight.

“hoon” you whine his name, unsure if it was for the broken jewelry or how his thrust slowed down in pace but grew deeper in penetration

“keep saying my name. keep fucking calling out to me” sunghoon told as he gripped your throat again now that the leverage was gone and fucked harder into you

you mewled with his reluctant pace—a chase for yours and his high. you moan into him that the idea of your shattered necklace faded away. you weakly tried to meet his thrust for more friction.

but you became undone when he pressed down on the moving bulge in your stomach. the way it slid out only to reappear back in you made your head dizzy, “can you feel that? how deep i’m in there” he hums already knowing you knew how he deep he is

he just loved to remind you that it will always be him in there.

he grabs your hand and makes you feel it for yourself. both your hands pressing down on the bulge as you scrunch your face when he only push deeper. “that’s it princess, c’mon on”

“i can feel it” sunghoon grunts in your ear when your pace changes into an even more mess and how your hole flutters around him, “pussy gripping me so tight almost makes me think you want me to stay inside forever”

you shake your head but you chase the high, the tip of his cock pressing your gummy walls until you sore legs shook when the vice tightened around his length as you came around him.

sunghoon looks as your orgasm crashed over you without a second to spare and he couldn’t stop, “just a little more for me sweetheart” he praises and strokes your side as he continues to push his cock in and out, “be good for me”

you squirm at the sensitivity but sunghoon can’t stop himself, especially not when you’re still gripping him as weak moans fall from your mouth. and instead of leaving him to do all the work, you help out. with your weakened body, you manage to move your lower half to his.

sunghoon smirks, in complete and utter pride seeing your action. “knew you couldn’t think without me buried in you”

you only hum softly in agreement while the arrangements were obvious, it didn’t take into account of the undiscussed emotions lingering in the musk air.

“want you” you blab, the wet plops meeting with the base of his cock as he watched how he remained gone in your gummy walls, “i want you so bad”

those simple words managed to flicker something in sunghoon. a sickening awakening that made him realize he couldn’t or more like he wouldn’t allow you to slip away from him anymore.

sunghoon spread the side of your ass enough as he adjusted your bodies just right for him to slide in and out of you without fail. he smacked his hips up to meet with your body. the sound of wet skin slapping, you wailed moans and his grunts was the clear sign of want—of a need so bad for one another.

“you can take it princess. fucking take it” he groans when he pushes himself just enough, “my girl that takes everything i give her. such a needy greedy one”

the possessive words don’t register in your mind but it made way to your heart as it fluttered at the thought.

sunghoon’s thrust were erratic and unmeasurable but it came to a stop when he hilts to the fullest and you moan when a warmth erupts into your stomach and the velvet walls are covered of himself.

you breathlessly pant as your body thrashed, the bubbling releases squelching out by any chance possible.

but you squeal when sunghoon grabs your nape and brings your lips to his, the sweaty sticky feeling mixing together.

he needed to drain you of all that you have to offer, just like how you unconsciously did to him. “my necklace” you weakly chuckle feeling his hand ran over the bare of your neckline

and expecting a rebuttal, you didn’t prepare for the actual response, “what if i told you that i want you?” sunghoon pulls away from the kiss and stares at you

a glimmer sparkles in his eyes and a cold shiver runs down your spine. the initial tiredness melted away and you suddenly felt revived.

you tried to ignore the feeling and how hard your heart thumped but you swore sunghoon would be able to hear it by how close he is to you. physically and now emotionally.

“and if i tell not to not get to close… what if i told you i could hurt you?” you whisper loud enough for him to hear, the tone softer than how you usually speak

what you didn’t expect was for him to cup your cheek and raise your head to face him. the pads of his thumb crease your flushed out self wi5$ his smile warm and genuine that it worried you that he was serious about it—that he was actually serious about you now.

he tilts his head to the side, his hair falling with the motion as he looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

“then it’ll be all my bad desire”

——

[moonlightwritingf1]

Unspoken Desires | LN4

🌙 summary ━━━━━━━ Lando and Y/N have been dating for a few weeks but haven't been intimate yet. As they're getting ready to go out one night, Lando suddenly confesses his intense desire.

🌙 pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

🌙 word count ━━━━━━━ 3.1k

🌙 warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content

"I’ve never wanted to fuck someone as badly as I want to fuck you right now," Lando said, his voice low and rough, cutting through the silence like a knife. His words hit her like a punch to the gut, leaving her breathless and hot all over.

She glanced up at him, her heart racing, and saw the intensity in his eyes—a raw, unfiltered need that made her own body respond in kind. He wasn’t hiding it, not even trying to play it cool. The way he looked at her, it was like he was seeing straight through to her core, like he knew exactly how much she wanted this too. And maybe he did. Maybe he’d been picking up on the little cues, the way her breath hitched when he got too close, the way her thighs pressed together when he leaned in to kiss her neck.

He had always been good at reading her.

---

It started about three weeks ago, during one of those late-night encounters that seemed harmless at first but quickly spiraled into something much more. They had been hanging out at his place, just talking, laughing, the kind of easy chemistry that makes time disappear. But then his hand brushed against hers, just a fleeting touch, and suddenly the air between them felt charged, electric.

"What are we doing?" she asked, unable to keep the nervous edge out of her voice.

Lando had leaned back in his chair, studying her for a long moment before answering. "I don’t know," he admitted, his tone measured but his eyes telling a different story. There was something there, something simmering just below the surface, and it wasn’t hard to guess what it was. Desire. Pure, unadulterated desire.

And yet, neither of them made a move. Not then, anyway. Instead, they fell into a rhythm, a dance that involved lingering glances, stolen touches, and endless teasing. It was intoxicating, thrilling, and frustrating all at once. Every time they got close, something held them back—a fear of ruining what they had, perhaps, or maybe just the uncertainty of where things were headed.

But tonight? Tonight feelt different.

---

The two of them were standing by the door, coats draped over their arms, ready to head out for the night. Or at least, she had been ready. Now, with Lando’s words still ringing in her ears, she could barely think straight. Her pulse pounded in her temples, and her skin felt overly sensitive, like it was buzzing with anticipation.

"Lando," she managed to say, her voice trembling slightly. "What… what are you saying?"

He stepped closer, crowding her space until there was only an inch or two between them. His hands found her hips, fingers gripping lightly but firmly, anchoring her in place. "I’m saying," he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear, "that I want you. Like I’ve never wanted anyone else. And yeah, maybe we’d only been dating a few weeks, but fuck it. I don’t care about playing it cool anymore."

His confession sent a shiver down her spine, and she felt her resolve starting to crumble. He wanted her. No games, no pretense—just raw, undeniable desire. It was overwhelming, but in the best possible way.

"Are you serious?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lando pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his expression fierce and unapologetic. "Dead serious."

The weight of his words settled over her, heavy and irresistible. She could feel the heat radiating off his body, smell the faint scent of his cologne mingling with whatever he had for dinner earlier. It was intoxicating, drawing her in like a moth to a flame. And honestly? She didn’t want to resist.

"Then what are we waiting for?" she challenged, lifting her chin slightly.

A slow, wicked grin spread across his face, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, without warning, he grabbed her wrist and yanked her toward him, pressing his lips to hers in a kiss that was equal parts demanding and desperate.

Her bag slipped from her shoulder, hitting the floor with a dull thud as her free hand clutched at his shirt, pulling him closer. His tongue swept into her mouth, urgent and insistent, and she could taste the sharpness of his mint gum, mingled with a hint of something darker, wilder.

Lando’s hand slid up her side, tracing the curve of her waist until his fingers dipped beneath the hem of her top, brushing against the warm expanse of her skin. A soft gasp escaped her lips, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, devouring her mouth like he couldn’t get enough of her.

"God, you feel so fucking good," he muttered against her lips, his voice rough and strained.

She tugged on the collar of his shirt, urging him closer, and he responded by lifting her effortlessly, setting her down on the nearby table. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, pulling him flush against her. The sudden intimacy of the position made her breath hitch, and she could feel the evidence of his arousal pressing against her center, a delicious reminder of just how badly he wanted her.

"You feel so good," he murmured against her mouth, his voice low and gravelly, almost possessive. His fingers traced the curve of her hip, skimming over the fabric of her jeans before dipping beneath the hem. The touch was electric, sending shivers down her spine. "I can’t stop thinking about how perfect you are."

Perfect. The word made her heart stutter. She was far from perfect, but in this moment, with Lando looking at her like she was the only thing that existed, it didn’t seem to matter. His green/blue eyes bore into hers, stripping away any doubt, any insecurity. All she could see was the intensity in his gaze, the way it flickered with need.

"Lando…" she breathed, her voice shaky. Her hands found his shoulders, gripping him tightly as if he might disappear if she let go.

He responded by pressing her harder against the table, his hips aligning with hers. The friction sent a jolt of pleasure through her, unrelenting and undeniable. His lips left hers, trailing down her jawline, nipping at the sensitive skin just below her ear. "Tell me you want this," he whispered, his breath hot against her skin. "Tell me you want me."

Want. The word hung heavy in the air, a demand disguised as a plea. She did want him. God, she did. But there was still a part of her holding back, questioning whether this was what she really wanted or if it was just the heat of the moment talking. Lando seemed to sense her hesitation because he pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers for an answer.

"I want you," she said, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her. "I’d never wanted anyone like this before, but..."

"What’s wrong?" he asked, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable. It was such a stark contrast to the dominance she had felt moments ago that it caught her off guard. "Do you not feel it too?"

She shook her head quickly, feeling guilty for making him question himself. "No, it’s not that. I do feel it. I just—" She paused, unsure of how to explain the tangle of emotions swirling inside her.  "I’ve never been this close to someone before. Not like this."

His expression softened, the corners of his mouth lifting into a small, reassuring smile. "I have," he admitted, his voice steady. "But none of it ever felt like this. This is different. It’s real, y/n. Can’t you feel it?"

She nodded, unable to deny the truth in his words. There was something different about this, something that felt raw and unfiltered. It wasn’t just about the physical attraction—though that was undeniable—it was about the connection, the way their hearts seemed to beat in sync.

"Then stop overthinking," Lando said, his tone playful but firm. "Just feel."

And with that, he kissed her again, deeper this time. His tongue parted her lips, exploring every inch of her mouth with an urgency that left no room for doubt. One hand traveled up her side, slipping beneath her shirt to press against the bare skin of her lower back. The other slid around to the front, palming her breast through her bra.

The sensation was overwhelming, her body arching involuntarily into his touch. A moan escaped her lips, swallowed by his as he continued to kiss her with a fervor that set her blood ablaze. The world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them in that moment, lost in each other.

"You’re so beautiful," Lando breathed, his voice ragged. His thumb brushed over her nipple, already hard with arousal, and she gasped against his mouth. "Every part of you."

His words sent a thrill of pleasure through her, her mind spinning with the implications. She’d never felt this desired, this wanted. And it was intoxicating. “Lando…” she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur. “Don’t stop.”

His response was immediate. He broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes. “I won’t,” he promised, his voice thick with intent. “Not unless you tell me to.”

The weight of his words settled over her, leaving no room for uncertainty. This was happening. Right here, right now, with Lando looking at her like she was everything he’d ever wanted. She nodded, her decision made without a single doubt.

“Then don’t,” she said, her voice steady despite the pounding of her heart. “Take me.”

His pupils dilated at her words, the hunger in his eyes unmistakable. Without another word, he reached for the button of her jeans, his movements quick but careful. The sound of the zipper sliding down echoed in the quiet space, a reminder of the intimacy unfolding between them.

“Spread your legs for me,” he commanded, his voice deep and gravelly. The tone sent a shiver down her spine, the mix of dominance and tenderness overwhelming.

She obeyed, shifting her hips until her legs were parted, allowing him access. His hands moved with purpose, slipping beneath the elastic of her panties to gently cup her warmth. The contact was sudden, his fingers brushing against her clit with a precision that made her gasp.

“You’re so wet for me,” he murmured, his voice laced with satisfaction. “Did you know that?”

She shook her head, too overwhelmed to speak. All she could do was watch as he dipped a finger inside her, his touch sending shockwaves through her body. The sensation was unlike anything she’d ever felt, the way he filled her completely, tilting his finger just right to stroke her walls.

“So tight,” he groaned, his voice strained. “God, I can’t wait to be inside you.”

His words ignited a fire within her, her hips bucking against his hand as she chased the pleasure. Lando obliged, adding a second finger and curling them in just the right way to make her knees tremble.

“Fuck, Lando…” she moaned, her voice breaking. “Please…”

“Please what?” he growled, his eyes dark with desire. “Tell me what you want.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in her throat. How could she even begin to articulate the craving building inside her, the desperate need to have him fully, completely?

Before she could form the words, Lando took matters into his own hands—literally. He withdrew his fingers, replacing them with his tongue. The sensation was overwhelming, the warmth and pressure of his mouth sending her spiraling into sensory overload.

“Oh my god…” she gasped, her hands flying to his hair as she tried to anchor herself. Lando didn’t hesitate, his tongue flicking against her clit with relentless precision. Every movement was deliberate, calculated to bring her closer to the edge.

“You taste so fucking good,” he muttered, his voice muffled against her core. “I can’t get enough of you.”

His dirty talk only added fuel to the fire, her hips rocking against his face as she struggled to hold on. But Lando wasn’t done yet. He pulled back, positioning himself between her legs before guiding his cock to her entrance.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice trembling with restraint. His eyes met hers, and for a moment, it was just the two of them, locked in a silent exchange of trust and desire.

She nodded, biting her lip to keep from begging. “Yes. Please.”

With one swift motion, he pushed inside her, filling her completely. The sensation was almost too much, her body stretching to accommodate him. She gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders as she adjusted to the feeling.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Lando whispered, his forehead resting against hers. “I don’t think I’ll last.”

But then he started to move, slow and steady at first, giving her time to adjust. Each thrust was measured, his hips meeting hers with a rhythm that sent sparks of pleasure shooting through her veins.

“Lando,” she moaned, unable to hold back any longer. “Harder. Please.”

He listened, picking up the pace until the sound of their bodies connecting filled the air. The pleasure built with every thrust, consuming them both until all that was left was the raw, primal need to reach the peak together.

“Come for me,” Lando growled, his voice commanding. “Let me feel you come apart.”

He didn’t stop moving, not even for a second. His arms tightened around her as he carried her down the hallway, her legs still wrapped securely around his waist, his cock still buried deep inside her. Her breath hitched with every step, the sensation of him twitching within her only heightening the anticipation that built with each passing moment.

“You feel so good,” Lando murmured into her ear, his voice low and gravelly, sending shivers down her spine. He nuzzled her neck, peppering soft kisses along her skin, making her shudder. “I can’t wait to have you like this, completely at my mercy.”

Mercy. The word sent a rush of heat through her body, pooling between her legs. She bit her lip, trying to steady her breathing, but it was no use. She was already lost in the haze of desire that Lando had created.

He kicked open the door to his bedroom with one swift motion, and then he was laying her down on the bed, his weight pressing her into the mattress. His hands were everywhere—in her hair, on her hips, sliding up her thighs—as if he couldn’t get enough of her. And maybe he couldn’t. She certainly couldn’t get enough of him.

“Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need. “Please,  move… don’t make me wait.”

His lips curved into a wicked smile, and he leaned down to kiss her again, deep and possessive, his tongue dominating hers. He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, those piercing green/blue  eyes that seemed to see straight through to her soul. “I won’t,” he said, his voice a promise. “Not tonight. Not ever.”

Before she could respond, he spread her legs apart, repositioning himself between them. He looked down at her, his gaze intense, almost primal. “Are you sure?” he asked, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer.

She nodded, unable to speak, her heart pounding in her chest. Yes, she thought. Always yes.

With one quick, deliberate motion, he made an in-and-out motion and sank into her again, filling her completely. She gasped, her body arching up to meet his, desperate for more. His name escaped her lips in a breathless moan, and he groaned in response, his forehead resting against hers.

“Fuck, y/n,” he muttered, his voice ragged. “You feel so damn good.”

He began to move, slow and steady at first, giving her body time to adjust again. His thrusts were measured, deliberate, each one hitting her in just the right spot. She clutched at his shoulders, digging her nails into his skin, as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her.

“Lando,” she cried out, her voice breaking. “Please… harder.”

He listened, picking up the pace until the room was filled with the sound of their bodies coming together. His thrusts grew deeper, harder, each one sending jolts of electricity through her veins. She could feel the orgasm building inside her, closer and closer, threatening to consume her.

“Come for me,” Lando demanded, his voice commanding. “Let me feel you come apart.”

His words pushed her over the edge, and she did exactly as he said. Her body convulsed around him, her walls clenching tight as the orgasm ripped through her. She screamed his name, lost in the throes of pleasure, as he continued to thrust into her, chasing his own release.

“I’m close,” he gritted out, his voice strained. “God, I’m so close.”

She reached up to touch him, her fingers brushing against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath her palm. “Don’t stop,”she breathed, her voice barely audible. 

He didn’t. With one final, powerful thrust, he came. He let out a guttural growl, his body going rigid as he spilled inside her, his warmth mingling with hers.

For a few moments, neither of them moved, caught in the aftermath of what had just happened. Lando collapsed onto the bed beside her, pulling her into his arms. She lay there, her heart still racing, her body buzzing with the remnants of pleasure.

“That was…” she trailed off, unable to find the words to describe what had just happened.

“Incredible,” Lando finished for her, his voice soft but filled with conviction. He kissed her forehead, then her cheek, before finally capturing her lips in a gentle, lingering kiss. “And it’s only the beginning.”

She smiled against his lips, feeling a sense of contentment wash over her. But before she could fully bask in the moment, Lando pulled away slightly, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Ready for round two?” he asked, his voice teasing.

As the night drew to a close, Lando and Y/N lay tangled in the sheets, breathless and content. Lando's fingers traced small circles on her skin, a soft and soothing contrast to the intensity of earlier. His lips pressed a gentle kiss to her temple, and she smiled, feeling completely at ease in his embrace.

"You know," Lando murmured, his voice playful yet tender, "I think we just set a new standard for our dates."

She laughed softly, turning to meet his gaze. "Is that so?" she teased, her fingers gently caressing his chest.

"Yeah," he grinned, his eyes sparkling. "But no pressure. I think we can take it slow from here on out... unless you're ready to break some more records."

She chuckled, snuggling closer, feeling his warmth surrounding her. "Maybe we should just enjoy the moment, Lando."

He nodded, his expression softening as he held her tighter. "You're right. This... us... it feels real. And that's all that matters."

She rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Just the quiet, simple certainty that something beautiful had begun between the two of them.

[yandere-romanticaa]

"By the stars, how foolish can one person be?"

His voice was quiet as night but dark as sin, his grip on your wrist tighter than any chain made by mortal hands. Fingernails dug deep inside the soft flesh but his face remained stoic as ever. The professor's pale face seemed to almost shine underneath the moonlight as his one visible eye leered down at you as if you were no better than a mere cockroach he could just squish with his little finger.

Honestly, he probably could and for the longest time that was your opinion on him.

For ages now, you had thought that Anaxagoras did not fancy you whatsoever. Whenever you would cross paths the man would do nothing other than poignantly glare in your direction, arms crossed on his chest as he would turn his gaze elsewhere whenever you'd make eye contact with him. Trying to reason with him proved to be pointless as the man would only spew absolute venom at you, but he would do it in such an elegant way that you were often left speechless at the sheer refinement of it all, as if he was writing up some twisted poetry for you. Amphoreus was known for its endless sea of romantic songs, secret love affairs and honeyed words but this was different.

This particular rose had thorns. Sharp thorns.

And it had no desire to be plucked whatsoever.

Eventually, you stopped trying. The desire to get to know the scholar had all but diminished, it was instead replaced with an inkling of dread. Simply spotting him in a crowd sent shivers down your spine, especially if he was coming straight towards you. He would always carry himself with such vigor and confidence but that would all melt away into childish pettiness the moment he stood before you and opened his mouth.

It was as if he actively enjoyed making you uncomfortable.

And you had no idea just how true that assessment was.

Enough was enough. Mustering up all of your courage, you decided to confront the seemingly devious man for his heinous actions. You grilled him profusely, practically begging him to just say what it was that he disliked about you. Heck, you had even offered to steer clear from him for good, that if you ever even caught a glimpse of him in a crowd that you would make yourself scarce.

Anaxa was oddly quiet after that proposal. No snarky comment, no nothing. It almost made you miss his old attitude that day.

But now standing before you was a man who was scorned. Even with the mask he tried to wear, you could still make out the ghost of a quiver on his thin lips. He was wracking his brain for an answer, his eyes wild as he suddenly broke into a maddening grin, his other hand now finding a place around your waist to bring you even closer to him. Pressing your hands on his chest proved futile, his grin wider than any beast ought to have.

"Oh how I despise you..." he whispered in the dark night. It was beyond difficult to understand him but you regardless kept your mouth shut.

He never did like to be interrupted...

His hand trailed downwards to your waist as one of his fingers started to trace a soft pattern on your spine, almost as if he was trying to be affectionate with you.

"You are like a knife that keeps stabbing my heart, over and over... You simply never seem to stop, do you?"

He suddenly pressed his forehead against your own, his hair tickling your entire face as Anaxa was now fully taking up every part of your personal space. From the corner of your eye you noticed the gun which was holstered on his waist but he spoke up just as fast.

"Eyes on me, sweetling. You do not have the luxury of running away from this."

It was hard to breathe, hard to think. You wanted to hit him, to shout at him to do literally anything - but it was all so pointless, especially since he had you so close.

"You have become my punishment, my ultimate temptation." purred Anaxa, his grin still just as big if not even bigger now. With wide eyes you gaped at him like a fish out of water but he merely cackled at your bewildered reaction, it clearly being amusing for him. His lips ghosted over your own, as if he was contemplating whether or not he was going to steal a kiss.

"Oh how I despise you with my whole entire being and yet all I can do is beseech you to just humor me. You have committed the crime of making me fall for you and I cannot forgive you for such a transgression."

He was punishing you. Anaxa was not able to comprehend the depth of his feelings so he showed them the only way he knew how. He had a little bit of madness in him and he wished for you to see it, to feel it.

Bear witness to his pain. See just how completely and utterly you had ruined him with nothing else other than committing the crime of existing. You had wormed your way into his heart without ever meaning to and Anaxa was going to make you pay dearly for that crime.

A/N: a few of you asked me how I'm doing since I wrote my last Anaxa post and I just wanted to thank you all for the kindness! But to ease your worries - massive mood swings are just a part of my character and that's just not going to change LMAO. I'm just the kind of person who has extremely good highs and very deep lows. I am easy to sadden but the up side is that I'm just as easy to cheer up!

But yeah - more Anaxa fics! Heck yeah! He's really tricky for me to pin down but this is the best I can do for him, so far anyway. This was written before 3.2 so I wonder how much his character will differ compared to the idea of him that I have in my head. I also simply must give a shout out to the lovely @harmonysanreads because her Anaxa fics really helped me!

[grotesquevi]

85 and 48 w abby anderson plsplspls

cw  # 18+ mdni, contains smut, use of strap on, hear me out cause this is spider-man!abby x villain!reader. this is an special celebration as i just reached 1k followers using this prompt list, check out ellie’s previous drabble.

“you can take it like a good girl, right?” it makes your blood boil. so mad your vision fades to red for a second and you wish to kill her for the next handful of seconds — “you’re taking it so good already.”

makes your skin shiver when she talks to you like that, spin around an endless circle when abby’s pushing you right against the cement pillar, burying herself deeper as she makes you moan in response.

“there you go,” she’s cocky for a second, shouldn’t be when the red and blue mask rest a couple of steps away from her, when part of her suit is teared after another encounter where she almost win. tries to stay silent when she’s holding your leg up, muscles flexing when she’s keeping you just in the right position as she plunges further inside your slippery cunt.

“please- stop talking and focus in fucking me.”

it’s funny when spider-man actually turns out to be a butch packing a sillicone cock in the spider suit, when you find out your nemesis is nothing but a stem collage student who knows too much about science, loves training and has a deep desire to keep everyone she knows safe. holding her little camera around, staring at you during classes: how did you not see your class-mate being the very same superhero who had the audacity to fight you all across new york?

she’s sweaty behind you, breathing spreading against your skin when she bites the flesh of your shoulder enough to leave a mark of her teeth. you cannot reply. cannot defend yourself from a touch you’ve been needing for so long. your ass moves back searching for the strap, and abby’s taking the gesture to fuck you faster, drag the cock deeper until it bruises your cervix. she takes her time in spreading you further apart, in tease your ass-hole with her thumb like it’s not already enough.

she surely has the stamina of a superhero, the soul of a savior. your back’s bruised, bloody and swollen at the remains of your fight with her, now to be, what exactly? moaning out her name? melting away your barriers when she’s touching you like she just came across paradise?

“should be taking you to jail, make you follow the laws for once,” she mumbles against your ear: abby could do it. you’re way worse than she is, trapped in her embrace, being fucked dumb enough to forget you can speak. she was winning after all, was until her vision turns cloudy and fuzzy as you’re saying something about the feeling of the strap securely wrapped in the harness around abby’s waist — “you’re gonna follow me now aren’t you? for once in your life.”

fuck spider-man. literally and metaphorically. fuck abby anderson when she’s shoving her fingers back in your mouth, when she’s keeping this pace that got your cheek crushing against the pillar of a cold abandoned building.

the tension you once holded between the hero nows long gone it seems, gone when abby’s fixated in her own movements, the way her cock seems to dissapear inside your well used hole and she’s happily listening to the lewd sounds your body make for her.

“nobody can know about this, okay?” you say, but the words slur together against the amount of saliva when she’s pushing her digits inside again. “ngh-abby. i fucking mean it.”

how are you even talking when you’re such in a fucked state? when you must be squeezing the dildo so deep abby can almost taste it herself in her dry mouth? always demanding, never giving up.

“nobody will know” she don’t really care about anyone knowing, not when there’s worst things in life more dangerous than be caught fucking the criminal she’s been trying to stop for months — “i promise.”

she needs more hands. fuck. abby needs to keep touching you. take the opportunity she’s given as she’s webbing your leg securely against the pillar you’re leaning against and she’s able, finally, to hold both hands behind your back while thrusting the strap in until you’re once again full. comfortable. good.

that’s what it makes it for her anyway. how you surrender to her touch. how you’d like to put up a fight even when you love it, how your moans fill the air and mix up with her own.

turns out being bitten by a radioactive spider is the least of abby's worries. in fact, she’s kinda digging the super-powers lately.