#also i wonder if part of this urge to see more drama come from this is BC ed and stede are so naturally good for/around each other | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hongcherry · 1 year

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pretty please (stay with me) || c.sc | 4 (m)

“After being assigned a fashion show for your big senior project, you set off to find volunteers to make it successful. However, when you meet Choi Seungcheol and his unfriendly clique through your volunteers, you realize they’re an unwanted package deal you can’t escape from. Can you handle Seungcheol’s obnoxious friends, and can he handle your brash behavior?”

🍒 Pairing: businessMajor!Seungcheol x fashionMajor!Reader (f)

🍒 Rating/Genres/AUs: M(18+); Slice of life (!!!), slow burn, drama, fluff, angst, smut; Unrequited enemies to lovers, strangers to lovers, college au

🍒 Warnings: General tws + alcohol consumption/drunk character, one physical altercation (not domestic abuse; not between mc&Cheol), name calling not in bed (whore, bitch), vomit, joke about murder | [smut warnings] soft sex, messy sex, protected sex, oral (m & f), face fucking, gagging, light breast play, cum swallowing, light cum play, spit play

🍒 WC: 12.1k

🍒 Betas: Sarah, Indi, Kelly, Freya 💝

🍒 Author’s Note: I am SO sorry I haven't replied to some of your responses to the last chapter. Something big happened IRL that made me want to withdraw from people for a while. Though, I've read the feedback and appreciate all the sweet words! I promise to reply to them soon. Anyway, lots of stuff happening in this chapter, so please enjoy more drama 😬💖

also read here: AO3 | Wattpad

seventeen masterlist | main masterlist

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“Hold still!” you urge as you try to hold the fabric in place.

Mingyu squirms above you, tiny giggles escaping his mouth. “It tickles!”

“I’m going to stab you with this needle if you keep moving,” you explain and peer up at him.

“I’ll tell your boyfriend you said that,” he grumbles and calms his movements. His hands clench as he tries to resist the need to move.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” you reply, annoyed. You adjust the fabric on him, then slip in a needle to keep it in place.

“I’m sure Seungcheol won’t be happy to hear that,” he mutters.

Your eyes narrow, poking another needle in.

“Ow!” Mingyu cries and moves away from you. “That was on purpose.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Was it? I think you just moved wrong.”

“I didn’t move at all!” he argues.

You ignore his complaint and point back in front of you. He sighs, obliging to your request.

You had met Mingyu at his apartment to try out the outfit you made for him. For the most part, it fits nicely, but there are a few adjustments that need to be made.

You hear keys rattling at the door and peer your head to see who’s coming. Wonwoo and Seungkwan stroll in. They stop mid-sentence when they see you.

“Hey Yn, we didn’t know you’d be here,” Seungkwan greets. You turn away from them and attend to Mingyu again.

“Surprise,” you say, although with no enthusiasm in your tone.

“What’s going on?” Wonwoo asks while setting down his camera bag. He tosses his keys next to it and walks to the kitchen.

“Yn’s stabbing me with needles because I brought up her boyfrie—Ow!”

“Oops,” you shrug. You quickly pin the fabric in its new spot. You didn’t think it'd take this long, but Mingyu kept fidgeting.

“You have a boyfriend?” asks Seungkwan.

“No,” you reply curtly. “Done. Now, go take it off, so I can make the changes.”

“Finally,” Mingyu replies and leaves without another word. He probably doesn’t want to be poked with another needle.

“Who was he talking about then?” Seungkwan wonders.

“No one. How are you guys?” you ask in hopes to change the subject. You start repacking the bag you brought.

“Pretty tired, but that seems to be the normal life of a college student,” Seungkwan says with a chuckle.

“How’s the project?” Wonwoo chimes in, a glass of water in his hand.

You stand up from the floor and adjust your clothes. “It’s going,” you answer with an exhale.

“Are tickets on sale for it yet?” he questions. You pause in grabbing your purse from the couch.

“You’re going to go to it?” you ask, not expecting him to come. It doesn’t seem like his thing.

“Of course! We’re all planning to come—Shit, wait, was that a secret?” Seungkwan stops himself, his hand coming up to his forehead as his mouth opens.

“Dude!” Mingyu calls as he emerges from the other room. He hands you the garment, eyeing Seungkwan.

“Blame Wonwoo! He brought up getting tickets,” Seungkwan whines and sends a slender finger in Wonwoo’s direction.

“No one told me we weren't supposed to tell Yn,” Wonwoo huffs.

“Seungcheol’s going to rip you all a new one,” Mingyu tsks.

“Seungcheol?” you question and look at the tall man.

Has Seungcheol been planning for all of them to come to your show?

“Uh, a d-different Seungcheol. Not the one you know. Kim Seungcheol! Not Choi Seungcheol. Youdon’tknowhim,” Mingyu rambles, words rushing together. His gaze is darting around the room—landing on anything but your eyes.

“I see,” you say slowly. You know they’re aware you don’t believe Mingyu’s lie.

“Please don’t say anything to him,” Mingyu pleads, his lower lip sticking out in a pout. He’s such a big puppy.

You sigh, fixing your bag on your shoulder. “Say what to who?”

“Precisely.” Seungkwan smiles.

You make your way to the door, turning after you open it.

“I'll text you when we can meet again, Mingyu,” you inform him.

“Alright. Bye, Yn,” he replies. They all give you a wave as you exit their place.

You aren’t sure what to do with knowing Seungcheol is coming to the show. More unexpectedly, you don’t know what to do knowing he’s arranging for his friends to come too. You aren’t even sure if your father and Seoah will come. You’ll like to say that you don’t care if no one you know shows up. As long as scouts come and are amazed by your work, that’s all you need. Though the more you grow fond of these people, the more you want them to be your friends and support you like how Dae supports you. Beyond that, you want Seungcheol to support you—to be proud of you. Even though you aren’t supposed to know about his attendance, it gives you a sudden boost of motivation to do better. Not only for yourself but for your friends so they can be proud to say they know you.

You arrive at Dae’s fully prepared to have a sewing partner for the night. However, you end up with a shot glass in your hand at a bar.

“To almost being done with this project,” Dae declares, her glass rising in the air.

“What you said,” you reply. You clink your glass against hers, tapping it on the counter, then tipping your head back as you drown the alcohol. The burning in your throat is temporary, and you turn in your seat to look around while it settles. The place is crowded, as expected on a Friday night.

Dae had worked for twenty minutes before she let out a frustrated puff of air. She claimed she was tired of staring at fabric and needed a break. You suggested she go rest on the couch, but her idea of taking a break was different from yours. Despite your protests, Dae dragged you from her home and got a ride to her favorite bar. You used to accompany Dae here a lot, but you were never a drinker, and you often had to tend to your family most nights. Thus, your trips became less frequent.

Although Dae’s goal is to get drunk, yours is not. You’ve taken two shots and plan to call it a night. You don’t want to spend the night babysitting Dae, but it seems you have no choice. She’s dragged you from one bar to another—ordering a drink at each. She’ll offer you a sip, and each time, you shake your head.

The occasional person will slither up and offer to pay for your drinks. It’s annoying because you don't need to cater to boosting a stranger’s ego. They always want something in return, and you’re not going to give them anything.

You decline politely the first time, sternly the second, and bitchy the third. The ones who get the third “no” are less thrilled to hear it, but that doesn’t bother you. You are fully prepared to use your heels as a weapon if one gets too offended. Luckily, that hasn’t had to happen so far.

“Hm, ‘tis one tastes like… ‘otton ‘andy!” Dae exclaims excitedly as she takes another sip. You watch her redden-face light up for the nth time while drinking this one. “’ou should try it!”

You force a smile and shake your hand, telling her no. Her face drops.

“But you wuv ‘otton ‘andy,” she whines and slides the drink to you. Her eyes become glossier the longer you refuse the drink. “I pwomise ‘ou’d wuv it!”

You glance at the drink. It’s a pretty blue color and looks appetizing. Sighing, you raise the glass to your mouth. You let the liquid touch your lips, then set it down. Your tongue darts out to taste it. You have to admit, the small drop you get does taste good.

“Delicious,” you hum, giving her a big smile. Her body straightens quickly, and you grab her arm when she leans a little too far back.

“Shee!” she beams.

“Finish it, so we can go,” you instruct, moving the glass back. There isn’t much left. She shakes her head.

“You!” she answers.

“You deserve it more. You’ve been working hard,” you say. Her brows suddenly tilt down, mouth in a deep frown. She looks like she’s about to cry.

“’ve been! Gawd I’m sh-o tired, but I ‘ave to do goodth,” she says and puts her head on the table, although harder than she means to. You wince at the loud thud. “Can’t let ‘tis go to ‘atse.”

You place a hand on her back, rubbing soothing circles. “It won’t. Someone’s going to come and see your work and offer you a job. You’re talented, Dae.”

Her head lifts up, bobbing slightly at the weight. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” you answer, and you mean it. You don’t compliment her work as much as she does yours. It’s always easier not to mention it instead of risking a heartfelt conversation. Those always make you feel weird. “You’re not top of the class for no reason.”

She shakes her head. “’ou’re top of ta class.”

“I didn’t say you were the only one up there,” you tease gently, causing her to giggle.

“’m glad ‘ou think that o’ me,” she answers with a loud sigh. “It’s ‘ard to be compar’d to ‘ou.”

You try to hide your frown. She rarely mentions how being associated with you affects her. Sure, you’ve guessed before, but you’ve never brought up the topic. Partly because you’re afraid of the answer. You don’t want to hear how you’ve made her feel insecure. You don’t want to know all the troubles you’ve indirectly or directly put her through.

Although it will be easier to talk about this when she’s intoxicated since she may not remember it, it isn’t right.

“Don’t compare. You have talents I don’t have,” you say.

“’ike?” she wonders, but you shake your head.

“We can talk about it when you’re sober,” you explain. After making sure everything is paid for, you gently help her down the stool.

“’ne’ore bar!” she begs, hands holding your arms tightly.

“One more,” you repeat, “but a small drink this time,” you bargain.

“Ye’sh!” she shouts, throwing her arms up and tripping over her feet. You reach out quickly and steady her. Once she’s balanced again, you carefully walk toward the exit. You lean Dae against you to try to get her to stop swaying as you walk to the next bar.

“’ey! Whadd’s ‘at?” Dae quickly points to the floor, reaching down before you can stop her. The fast movement combined with the shift in weight has her falling to the floor. You instinctively reach out to ease her fall, but it’s no use. She’s on the floor before you can blink. There is laughter behind you, but you ignore it. It isn’t the first time someone’s fallen over from being drunk on this street.

“Fhuck!” Dae whines and stares at her hands. There are a few concrete burns on them, but nothing antibiotics and band-aids can’t fix.

“I think we’re done for the night,” you say and offer a hand to her.

She repositions to her hands and knees, reaching up to grab your outstretched hand. However, her supporting arm isn’t strong enough to hold her weight, and the sudden tug on your hand as she falls again forces you to the floor. You hit her head on the way down, yelping at the feeling and letting go of Dae to caress the area. Additionally to the thud, there is a crack as you fall.

For a second you think you broke something. Though, besides the soreness on your hands, knees, and head, nothing feels broken. You move your legs to rest in front of you only to see one of your shoes has lost its heel piece.

The giggles behind you grow louder.

“How pathetic,” a voice laughs. It’s familiar, but you dismiss it to be someone you heard in one of the bars you went to.

“Really,” another person adds.

You dust off your legs, seeing matching red on your exposed skin. Dae’s sudden loud voice makes you jump.

“’ere it is!” Dae announces happily. Her hand comes into view, and in it is a coin. Your shoulders sag.

All this for a coin.

“You’re going to spend that on buying me a new pair of shoes,” you huff, removing your heels. It isn’t ideal to walk barefoot, but you don’t feel like hobbling your way around.

“No!” she cries and moves the coin from you quickly. Her movement is too big and quick, and you have to grab her again before she falls backward. You swiftly tug her upright.

“Just stop moving!” you growl and tighten your hold on her to keep her still.

“Wait, is that Yn?” someone says behind you. At the sound of your name, you glance over your shoulder. As if your night can get worse.

Hajun sputters, a smile growing at the sight of you. “Oh my god, it is. No wonder they are so pitiful.”

“Both of them,” Hana giggles.

“Of course, you befriend those similar to you. It’s only right they’re friends.”

Your eyes narrow on them, hand twitching as you fight the urge to chuck your non-broken heel at their faces.

“Isn’t that right?” you scoff. “You’re both pieces of shit and friends. Wow! Truly a match.”

You clasp your hands together, voice going higher as you pretend you’re elated for them.

“Says the whores who are on the floor. It’s where you belong anyway,” Hajun replies, arms crossing over her chest.

“And you know where you belong? Beaten and bruised in the hospital. I can help with that,” you threaten and start to stand up to do just that. However, there is wetness spreading on your lower half accompanied by gagging. You gasp at the sensation and look down to see what happened.

Your night definitely just got worse.

Dae has emptied her stomach and looks like she’s about to do it again. You scramble up and move aside, grabbing her hair to hold it back as you try to block out the sound of her hurling. You hate that you can feel her vomit trailing down your legs now that you are upright on your knees. The thought alone has you almost joining her.

“Oh, this is just perfect,” Hana laughs.

“Where’s my phone? I need a picture,” Hajun says and pats her body in search of the device.

“A picture of what?” a new voice questions. Joshua walks from behind them. Great.

“That,” Hajun replies with a laugh. You quickly glance down, letting your hair fall into your face so he can’t see you. You don’t need more people who know you see your current situation.

“Leave them alone, guys,” Joshua says. You start to panic when you hear footsteps. Though, the person doesn’t get far.

“You’re right, we should just go,” Hajun answers. “Come on.”

There's a shuffling of feet before footsteps occur again, but away from you this time. You sigh internally and turn back to Dae.

“You okay?” you question.

“I-I thwink you’re right. ‘hat was-h the las’bar,” Dae groans, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Let’s get home,” you instruct and grab her hands slowly. You don’t want her to throw up again from moving too fast.

“Where did they go?” another voice asks from afar.

“They said they would wait outside the door.”

Your body tenses at the voice. You are imagining it. Your brain is just choosing the worst time to think of him. It’s all in your head.

“Over here!” Hana calls out.

You steadily stand up with Dae, her arms gripping yours tightly.

“Easy,” you speak calmly. Your gaze drops to your discarded shoes on the floor. You want to pick them up, but you’re afraid of letting go of Dae. Sighing, you decide to leave them.

“’m shorry,” she mumbles as you take a step forward. You want to find a bench you can both rest on as you wait for a ride.

“Ah, they’re over there, let’s go,” the first voice says.

“Just wait a minute. They look like they need help.”

No. No, you don’t need help.

“Where are you going? They’re fine!” Hajun calls out. You turn Dae around and start the other way.

The feet are jogging toward you now. You have no other choice but to prepare to see the last person on your desired visiting list. There’s no way you can transport yourself and Dae away before he reaches you.

“Hey, do you need a han—C-Cherry?” Seungcheol stutters when he comes next to you. You slow in your steps, reluctantly looking up to see him.

“No. We’re fine,” you reply sternly. Despite your answer, Seungcheol puts an arm around Dae to offer more support. You stand your ground and don’t let her go.

“Who-sh ‘erry?” Dae wonders.

“No one,” you tell her and then look at him, “Seungcheol, let her go. I’ve got her.”

“What’s going on?” Joshua’s face suddenly pops up behind Seungcheol. Seungcheol stops walking, and unless you want to play tug-o-war with Dae, you have to stop too.

“Yn?” he asks, shocked. Then his gaze goes behind him. He makes a disappointing noise. “No wonder they wanted us to leave so fast.”

“What are you talking about, Shua?” Seungcheol questions. He still hasn’t let go of Dae.

“Ha—” Joshua starts but stops when Hajun’s voice sounds.

“Oh my, is that Yn? Oh no!”

Hajun appears in front of you. Your first instinct is to punch her; that’s evident in the way your hand fists in a ball at your side.

“Are you okay? Do you need a ride?” she looks at you with a worried expression. Your mouth drops slightly at her unexpected reaction. A few minutes ago she was a devil, but now she is an angel? Since when does she pretend to be nice?

“’uck off,” Dae mumbles. You let out a silent laugh and glance at her. She looks exhausted and dizzy, yet her eyes are on Hajun.

“M-me? But I’m just trying to help.”

“Oh, really? How does taking a picture of us help?” you wonder.

“What picture?” Seungcheol questions.

“I don’t know what she’s talking about,” Hajun answers, looking at him innocently. Your gaze moves to Seungcheol briefly. Did he say something to her, or is she trying a different tactic to get his sympathy?

“Yes, you do,” Joshua says.

“Shua! No, I don’t,” she whines and gives him a sad expression.

You do not have time for her games.

“Can you all just go away? I’m trying to get Dae home,” you sigh.

“Hm, ‘hat’ould be nice,” Dae mumbles.

“You’re right. We’re sorry to be bothering you. Come on, boys. We have another place to be,” Hajun concurs, gesturing to the rest of the group who lingers a few feet away.

“You guys can go without me. I’ll help them get home,” Seungcheol says. You whip your gaze to him, eyes narrowing in hopes it’ll make him leave. Though, your threatening glare has no effect on him.

“I’ll help, too,” Joshua adds.

“W-what? But we need you guys. They’ll be fine,” Hajun pleads.

Seungcheol chuckles dryly. “I doubt you need us to watch a movie.”

“For fuck’s sake, all of you leave now!” you growl, a headache sprouting. Your clothes are damp, your feet are aching, and your patience is gone.

“I’m not leaving,” Seungcheol says.

“Yes, you are. Go away!” you snap and shove at his arm that is on Dae.

“Don’t talk to him like that,” Hajun hisses and pushes you as if to get you back for shoving Seungcheol.

Oh, you are so over this girl.

Knowing Seungcheol is still holding Dae, you slip away from her and take a step toward Hajun. You reach out quickly when she tries to move away.

“Let go, psycho!” Hajun cries, innocent voice gone and back to how it normally is. You grip her arm tighter when she tugs on it.

“Remember what I said? Beaten and bruised in the hospital, bitch,” you snarl, fully preparing to swing a fist at her disgusting face.

Someone suddenly pulls you away, forcing your hand to let go of her.

“You’re such a fucking freak,” Hajun growls.

With all your might, you push away from whoever is holding you. You only have one thought in mind as you accost her again. Needing to act fast, you don’t hesitate to reel your hand back before connecting your palm roughly against her cheek.

Hajun shrieks loudly and places a hand on her face in surprise.

“Yn!” you hear Seungcheol scold but ignore him.

Hajun lunges toward you, but before she can do anything, you’re grabbed and twirled around to face the opposite direction. You stumble forward in their grasp when Hajun bumps into you both, unable to stop her momentum. You figure Seungcheol is the one who stops you, but when you raise your eyes, you see him still holding Dae, who is quickly falling asleep. Your head snaps up to see Joshua behind you.

“If you don’t let go of me, I will claw your eyes out,” you warn him. Joshua’s eyes widen at you before peering at Seungcheol.

“This is what turns you on?” he asks Seungcheol.

“What?” you and Hajun say in unison. Seungcheol glares at Joshua but says nothing of it. If you weren’t so occupied with the situation at hand, you may have let that sink in more.

“Don’t tell me you like her!” Hajun scoffs.

Seungcheol’s jaw clenches as he averts his gaze from Joshua to Hajun. “Go with the others.”

“Are you serious, Cheollie? You can do better than that. She’ll just make your life miserable,” Hajun exasperates.

You glance up at Joshua, battling your eyelashes at him. You change your tone to sound sweeter. “If I say pretty please, will you let me go? I promise to leave one eye in.”

“Charming,” he answers with a small laugh and then flickers his gaze back to Seungcheol. “I see the appeal now.”

“Shua!” Hajun screeches, betrayal in her voice. You send her a smirk and shrug. She looks like she is ready to lunge at you, but Joshua still stands between you two.

“Joshua, can you give me your keys?” Seungcheol asks. Joshua digs out his keys from his pocket with one hand, keeping the other around you in case you decide to escape. He tosses them toward Seungcheol and he catches them with ease. Seungcheol doesn’t say anything else as he picks up Dae in his arms, then walks down the sidewalk.

“Cheol!” Hajun calls out. He pauses to peer back.

“Go with the others, Hajun. I’m not going back,” he replies before continuing his walk. You stare at his back, a little dumbstruck that he’s actually helping you rather than leaving you for his friends.

Joshua releases his hold and begins to follow Seungcheol. He stops when you don't move.

“I’m not dumb enough to leave you together. Let’s go, Yn,” he says and grabs your wrist.

You open your mouth to get the last word, but the look of utter betrayal on Hajun’s face is satisfying enough. Thus, you let Joshua pull you away from her.

When you arrive at Joshua’s car, Seungcheol closes the door after putting Dae inside. She’s passed out now. You place a hand on the handle, ready to climb inside, but Seungcheol stops you.

“Now’s not the time to be chivalrous, Cheollie,” you say, voice a little mocking at the nickname Hajun uses for him.

“You’re not going with him,” he answers firmly.

Seungcheol puts his focus on Joshua and says, “Text me when you get home safely. Thanks for taking care of her.”

“It’s no problem. See you guys!” he replies and gets in the driver’s seat.

“He’s taking Dae to her home? I should go, so I can take care of her,” you explain and take a step toward the car. Seungcheol grabs your upper arm and pulls you away.

“No, he’s taking her to his. She’ll wake up confused, but she’ll be safe. Now, let’s go,” he answers. He lets go of you and walks in the other direction.

“Go where?” you huff, watching Joshua drive off for a few seconds before jogging to catch up. He doesn’t reply. You roll your eyes and keep following him.

A sudden pain in your foot has you gasping, wrapping a hand around it, and looking down to see what you stepped on.

“Stupid rock,” you mumble while glancing down at the damned stone.

“Where are your shoes?” Seungcheol asks, stopping a little ways ahead. You would have thought he’d noticed earlier, but you guess he was more focused on other stuff.

“Ruined,” you shrug and gently put your foot down. You start walking again, limping as you go. It isn’t bleeding, but the area is a little sensitive.

Seungcheol takes a few big steps toward you.

“Didn’t I tell you not to walk barefoot?” he questions before picking you up without warning. Usually, you would whine, but your feet are aching from the rugged terrain so you let him carry you.

“Hm, did you? I guess I didn’t hear,” you answer, snaking an arm around his shoulders.

Seungcheol doesn’t reply, his focus in front of him. Like before, he rests you on his shoes while he opens the door.

“I don’t want to ruin your car,” you say, gesturing to the throw up on your clothes. You’re sure you’ve already ruined his clothes, but you’re nervous about being trapped in a small area with him now.

“I don’t care. Get in,” he replies. You hesitate long enough for Seungcheol to gently nudge you.

“Alright, alright,” you murmur and climb in. Despite your worry about dirtying his expensive car, you can’t stop your body from sinking into his comfortable seats. You’re tired mentally and physically, so it feels nice to finally sit down.

You expect Seungcheol to lecture you about anything and everything, but instead, he remains silent as he drives off. The tense quietness has you shifting in your seat. You look at Seungcheol, noticing the way he is tightening and untightening his grip on the wheel. Due to his short-sleeved shirt, you can see the way his muscles are flexing at the action.

Your gaze trails down his forearms, stopping when you spot the two bracelets you and Seoah made him. Your lips start to curl into a smile at seeing them. Although you had secretly hoped he’d wear them, you weren’t sure if he would. You feel a small sense of pride fill your chest before you remember the predicament you are in.

The grin quickly drops as your eyes go back to his face—jaw clenched and eyes firmly on the road ahead.

“You can’t be mad at me,” you say to break the silence. “She had that coming. You should be rather proud, actually. I’ve been wanting to do that for a long ti—”

“What were you doing out there?” he asks. You stop, eyebrows knitting together at his strange topic change.

“W-what? We were just drinking. Well, Dae was. I was just there to be a good friend,” you answer.

“Where was your ride?”

“I was about to call one,” you say.

His lips dip lower than they already are. “You shouldn’t use those services. They’re dangerous.”

“Oh, right. I’ll call my private chauffeur next time,” you reply sarcastically.

“You can call me,” he says as if it’s the obvious thing to do.

You laugh. “You’re the last person I would call.”

“Why is that?” he questions and looks at you finally. The red light shines an eerily glow on his face.

You shrug and peer away, not wanting to see him so…. disappointed? Mad? Dejected?

“You’re not my friend.”

“I’m not your friend?” he repeats with a scoff. At the green light, he drives again.

You stay silent this time.

“So, I invite you to dinner—twice—”

“Actually, the first wasn’t really a dinner,” you say.

Seungcheol takes a deep breath, and you can tell he’s trying not to get any more frustrated. You bite the inside of your cheek and fiddle with your clothes. He waits to see if you will say anything else before continuing.

“I drive you places. I pay for your food, I let you stay at my place. All because I’m what? A stranger to you?”

“I—Well,” you mumble. You don’t have anything to say to that because it’s true. He did all those things. It’s unlikely a stranger would do that. Maybe some of them once, but not multiple times like he has.

“Hey, wait, this isn’t the way to my house,” you observe outside. The area isn’t familiar to you.

“Hm,” he hums.

“You’re not about to murder me and chop up my body in little bits, right?” you ask, worried.

“No,” he answers. “That’ll take too long. I’d just—”

“Cheol!” you interrupt, not wanting to hear him actually say those words.

“Kidding,” he says.

He takes a long inhale, releasing it after a few seconds. You stay silent for the rest of the car ride. There is a strange part of you that wants him to rest his hand on you like he usually does, but that isn’t appropriate right now. Not to mention, most friends don’t do that.

You recognize the neighborhood as you near his apartment. It’s clear he had set his mind on coming here, so there isn’t a point in demanding he takes you home.

Seungcheol leads you directly to his bedroom with his hand in yours. He drops it once he stands in front of his closet. Watching him silently, he shuffles through his clothes before plucking off an item from its hanger. He quickly moves to his dresser and grabs two more pieces. He brings them to his bathroom, setting them on the counter. You follow him slowly. You hate how quiet he was. It’s unnerving.

“Shower and meet me in the living room,” he instructs. When your mouth opens, he quickly adds, “No arguing.”

“I-I was just going to say okay,” you explain. If it wasn’t for the stench of Dae’s vomit, maybe you would have argued. Though right now, you’re just eager to get out of your clothes.

“Good,” he replies. He leaves the room, shutting the door behind him.

The feel of hot water running down your sore body has you sighing out. Even his water pressure is perfect against your body. You could’ve stayed in there for hours, but you don’t want his water bill to soar, and you don’t want to turn into a wrinkly rat. With both these in mind, you finish hastily.

The clothes he has picked out are a hoodie, boxers, and shorts. You disregard the part of your mind that’s silently freaking out about wearing his clothes.

They are clothes. Just clothes.

It’s not a big deal.

Granted, most things are never a big deal, but you always make them out to be.

You dry your hair as much as you can before silently walking out of his room, seeing him dressed in shorts and a long-sleeved sweater. He must have changed while you were showering. He glances up when he hears the floors creak, eyes dropping down to your exposed skin.

“Are you cold? Should I get you pants?” he asks and starts to stand up. You put out a hand.

“It’s okay,” you say and sit down a good ways away from him. You tuck your legs under you, leaning sideways into his couch so you can look at him.

“You could’ve taken me home,” you say quietly.

“My place was closer,” he says as if that really makes a difference. You hum and cast your eyes on your lap.

“You can go back to your friends if you want. I’m fine now.”

Seungcheol exhales a breath. “What happened before I showed up?”

You play with the hem of the hoodie as you speak.

“Dae got drunk. She fell and took me down with her. Your friends showed up, and said some insulting stuff, as always. Dae threw up. Then you came.” Your answer is short and concise. There’s no reason to go into extreme details. He knows how his friends speak about you. At least how they did speak about you.

His eyes flicker over your body, stopping on your knees with a frown. There are small scratches from when you fell, but they don’t hurt much. They just feel like tiny paper cuts.

“Oh, Shua said he arrived at their place safely. Dae’s sleeping in his room right now,” Seungcheol informs. You nod.

“I’ll have to tell him thanks later,” you reply.

There is silence for a moment.

“Why did you hit Hajun?” Seungcheol asks. He watches you attentively, eyes roaming your face.

You try to stop the scoff from escaping, but you fail. “I think the question you should be asking instead is, ‘Why did you wait so long to do it?’”

Seungcheol purses his lips as he stares at you unamused. You sigh. You aren’t expecting him to bellow a laugh, but you at least hoped for… something less scolding.

“As I said, she wasn’t saying nice things, and she put her hands on me. I was tired of her bullshit. Are you mad at me because of it?” you ask. Even though you expect him to say yes, you hope he says no. You don’t want him to be mad at you. Especially when you feel you are in the right.

Seungcheol runs a hand through his hair, gaze tearing from yours momentarily. You eye the way his hair falls back into place easily. It’s almost mesmerizing to watch.

“I don’t know,” he finally answers.

“I see,” you say and readjust yourself on the couch. You let your legs dangle off the furniture while your back rests against the cushions. It hurts to see he still isn’t completely on your side. Even though you’re the one he left with, you can tell she is still in his mind. Your heart twists painfully at that.

“You should know if I were given the option, I would still do it again,” you further explain. No reason to make yourself seem like someone you’re not. You can call out how fake she was when she acted concerned, but what’s the point? Tear her down to boost you up? He probably already thinks badly of you. Maybe it’s better if he hates you. Easier, even.

You’re not sure what else to say, and he seems to be lost in his own thoughts. You carefully rise to your feet.

“I’ll take the guest bedroom,” you announce. You take four steps before Seungcheol speaks.

“I’m not mad at you.”

You turn to look at him and then answer, “It’s okay if you are. I hit your friend. It’s understandable to be upset with me.”

“I should be,” he starts, “but I’m not.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I know how she treats you.”

Ah, so he is aware.

“That’s nice,” you mumble, unable to hide the sass in your reply.

“I don’t like it.”

You shift your weight. You feel like what he said is a joke.

“Really? Because you seem to have no problem with it.”

“That’s not true,” he argues.

“It’s not? But you always let it happen.”

“I don’t. I can’t control what they say every time. I’m sorry they do that to you, but—”

“You’re not sorry. No, you can’t control their voices, but you can control who you befriend,” you reply.

“I can’t just drop them as friends,” he sighs.

“Why not? You really want to hang out with people who talk nothing but crap about me?” You don’t understand him. Some sentences make it seem like he’s on your side, and some seem like he isn’t. Does he really care about you?

“I’ve known them for a long time. We’re in group projects together. I see them too much to just cut off ties,” he reasons.

You nod. You get it. There is more to lose if he leaves them. Why is he even talking to you in the first place? He isn’t helping with your project and you don’t have history, so there’s no purpose to be around you.

“Then stop talking to me,” you suggest.

“What?” Seungcheol asks, taken aback.

“I can’t be around you when you’re friends with them. They’ve always got shit to say. You befriend people with similar attitudes,” you say, recalling what Hajun and Hana had said earlier. You don’t like them, but they were right about one thing.

“What makes you think I see you any different than them” you add. “Hell, you could be talking shit about me too. Do you all laugh about me in those little study rooms?”

“You really think I would do that to you?” he questions. His lips are set in a frown; he sounds hurt. Seungcheol leans forward to rest his elbows on his bent knees.

“I don’t know. You don’t really stick up for me when they do,” you say.

He sighs loudly, head in his hands, as he takes a few breaths. He’s in the same mental position as when he was in the café—torn between two different groups of friends.

You don’t want him out of your life, despite thinking differently when you first met him, but you don’t know if you can tolerate his friends much longer.

Your words are spoken softly, yet sternly. “When I leave in the morning, I don’t want you contacting me anymore.”

The sentence is similar to what you told him in the café, but this time, you will make sure that truly happens.

Seungcheol’s head pops up as you are turning around. You anticipate for him to call out or to rush to stop you, but none of those things happen. You make it to the spare bedroom and shut the door without Seungcheol’s interference. You hate that is the case. Though maybe it means it’ll be easy to go the next day.

There is a movement to your left, and you jump back in surprise. You turn only to see your reflection in a mirror. Goodness, you are so out of it. Your eyes linger on yourself. Your hair is slightly damp from the shower. Your makeup is mostly gone, but you can still spot a few smudges on your skin you couldn’t get off earlier. You look so different than what you are used to, but that is probably due to the change of attire.

You can’t remember the last time you wore a hoodie—a proper one. Not some fancy one that was more for style than actual comfort. His hoodie is soft inside and smells like a mixture of his detergent and cologne. It’s an interesting combination, but it makes you smile nonetheless. One which you force down when you catch sight of it in the mirror.

Seeing yourself look so ordinary in his home has those unwanting, imaginary thoughts creep in once again. They are dangerous. You know that, but oh, are they so easy to get lost in.

The vision calls this place home, where you can steal as many of Seungcheol’s clothes as you want. He would get onto you each time, but you know he’d secretly like seeing you in them. They would not only be different from your habitual style, but they would also be his.

His clothes on his girl.

Something that only he would see because while you’d enjoy wearing his clothes, you still would refuse to be seen in such casual wear beyond his humble abode.

Your heart yearns for that life.

Though as you turn off the light and climb into the bed, you let that fantasy get eaten by reality.

You’re not sure how long you’re asleep, but you stir when you feel the bed dip with an unknown weight. It moves closer, and you shiver when you feel something cold rest on your bare waist where the hoodie has risen. Then it holds you firmly while something shuffles in the bed closer. You register the weight to be a person’s, and you imagine it is Seungcheol.

The person presses you against their body, tucking your head into their chest as they rest their head on top of yours gently. The hand on your waist trails up your bare back. It rubs your skin softly, making your body sink further into the mattress. You keep your eyes closed, not wanting to wake from this dream your mind has created. If you aren’t able to have Seungcheol in the real world, at least you can have him here.

You don’t realize the tears rolling down your cheeks at first, but then you feel something tenderly swipe against your cheek. At first, you think it’s your own hand, but you don’t recall moving it.

In your dream, Seungcheol coos at you quietly. His hand is still sweeping across your back.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he says, voice so soft that it feels like it’s a few feet away. You inch closer to hear it better.

“You want me to leave you,” he continues.

Goodness, why does he sound so far from you?

Your hands rise to the chest in front of you, hands fisting the person’s shirt. You’re afraid they’ll leave you.

“But haven’t you realized I can’t do that? You were confused when I told you I wouldn’t leave you even if I could,” Seungcheol pauses to take a breath, almost as if he’s pondering on if he’s ready to disclose this information.

“I can’t leave you because I… I like you. More than just an acquaintance, or a friend.”

You clutch the shirt harder, pressing your head deeper into his body. You want to hear this outside your dream so badly.

You squeeze your eyes shut harder.

You wish you could see his face staring at you with his warm eyes. To see his pretty lips stretch into a smile as he tells you everything you want to hear. Things you’re too afraid to ponder because it would make them more real.

“Shh, don’t cry,” he whispers and presses a kiss on the top of your head.

The feelings whirling in your chest are too much to bear. The dream has dug deep in your mind to pull out these pushed-down thoughts. Your mind has outdone itself with its imagination. You need to wake up before you fall harder for the man in your dreams. You ease your grasp on his shirt as if readying yourself to be pulled to reality.

Then reluctantly, your eyes open.

You fully anticipate seeing tear-stained sheets and darkness in front of you, but you just see the scenario your dream mustered. You blink several times to rid the memory. However, nothing works.

Your mouth opens in shock. Your heart was racing already, but now it’s beating so fast you think it’ll burst from your chest.

Seungcheol lies beside you, watching you closely.

“C-Cheol?” you whimper, mind foggy with what’s real and what’s your imagination. “You’re r-real?”

Your body is in fight or flight mode. The moment had felt so vulnerable; it was as though he had invaded your mind. As if he knew your deepest thoughts, and that terrifies you.

He stares down at you, face only half illuminated from the moonlight that creeps in through his blinds. “I’m real, Cherry. I’m right here.”

You both stare at each other. You can’t hear his heart palpitate over the sound of yours, but you can feel the quick rise and fall of his chest against your palms, which are still pressed against his body.

Your eyes flicker down. In the dim light, you can make out two small wet circles on his clothes, indicating that he was really there to hear you cry. The dream was not a dream. You feel embarrassed at having cried in front of him.

Then it all comes flooding back clearly. His words. His caressing. His tender tone. You wanted nothing more than to hear him say he wanted you. Because no matter how hard you tried to burn those thoughts from your mind, they always flickered back to life.

You don’t know when it happened.

You’re staring at him with puffy eyes one second and then have his mouth pressing against yours the next.

There is no gentle brushing of the lips this time. You’ve had enough of being interrupted. You need to feel him against you. You need his touch in the ways you’ve dreamt of before. From the way Seungcheol grips you tightly and kisses you fervently, you have a feeling he thinks the same.

The taste of his lips has you dizzy. When he glides his tongue against your lip, you unhesitantly grant him access. Despite the quick start of the kiss, he slows his movements when his tongue meets yours.

Your hands reach up to run through his locks while Seungcheol flips on his back, pulling you on top of him. His hair feels soft as it glides between your fingers, and when you run out of hair to grab, you tug on the ends.

Seungcheol moans into the kiss, hands moving to your ass and squeezing. It has your hips pressing against his body, and you whine when your clothed clit brushes him.

You pull away with a gasp. Your hands go to rest on either side of his head. Some of your hair falls into your face, and Seungcheol is quick to tuck the strands behind your ears. You don’t need to hear him say he wants to see your face. That’s evident in the way his eyes never leave yours. You take in his swollen lips and tousled hair—all because of you.

That’s all you think of as you dive back down again, tongue finding his easily and gliding together smoothly. He’s finally yours, at least for now.

Seungcheol keeps one hand on your ass while the other trails up your body. It slides under the hoodie and grips one of your bare breasts.

You mewl at the touch, arching your back into his large hand. He massages the flesh gently for a second before he moves the hand on your ass to do the same to your other breast. Your body is warming rapidly. Your heart never calms with each new feel of him.

When you pull away to catch your breath the second time, you sit up and pull the hoodie from your body. Seungcheol rests his hands on your lower back. He watches silently in awe, feeling your back arch as your naked body is exposed to him.

“So fucking pretty,” he murmurs, quickly propping his body up with one hand to get closer. The other reaches up to the back of your neck to pull you down to him. You hum against his lips as you straddle him, hands playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. Your arousal is pooling in your panties, and you need to do something to relieve some of your need.

Seungcheol groans, hands immediately going to your hips when you start grinding against his crotch. You hold onto him tightly, using him as leverage as you rub your clit against him. He pulls away from the heated kiss to remove his shirt. As he tosses the material somewhere in the room, your hands quickly press against his taunt torso. The force at which you do so has him falling back onto the mattress unexpectedly, his hair fanning around his head. He laughs, eyes turning into half-moons and dimples coming out to greet you—making your body warm for another reason.

“S-sorry,” you giggle, hands still on his chest as you lean over him.

You can’t see him clearly, but the weak light cast causes a portion of his muscles to be outlined. Although you’ve gotten some hints about his build when he wore specific clothes, they don’t do justice to how fit he is.

“Are you going to give me another compliment, baby?” Seungcheol teases when you continue to stare; his voice is lower than before. It isn’t as deep as when he first wakes up, but the sound still goes straight to your core.

You squeeze your legs around his body, and he smiles at your reaction, grabbing your wrists. He guides your hands down his torso, forcing you to sit up gradually. You hold your breath as your gaze follows your hands south. You feel his toned body under your hands. Even though he doesn’t have a slender body, he is buff and muscular, and you find that much sexier.

“I don’t need your ego any bigger than it already is,” you protest.

Seungcheol stops guiding your hands when you reach the waistband of his shorts. He lets go of your wrists and moves his hands to rest on the top of your thighs.

“But I gave you one earlier,” he pouts. Full on pouting like he is a toddler who is getting denied candy. You curse him silently for looking so cute when he does that.

You huff with false irritation, folding quickly. “Fine. You look handsome.”

Instead of smiling, he keeps the same expression. He doesn’t say anything, and you roll your eyes at what he wants.

“And hot,” you continue. This gets his pout to ease slightly. He’s annoying, so you play with the strings of his shorts. It has his face contorting in surprise. Though once he realizes you’re just trying to get out of giving him more compliments, he pouts again. What a big baby… A big baby who you can’t help but fall for more despite his needy childish behavior at the moment.

“And sexy,” you murmur, curling your fingers over the top of his shorts and underwear.

Slowly, you begin to slide both pieces of clothing down. “And alluring.”

“Alluring?” Seungcheol asks quietly, trying to keep his gaze on your face, but it keeps going back to your hands. “T-that’s new.”

You hum, biting the inside of your cheek when your eyes catch sight of his hard length. The wetness between your legs grows while you slide his clothes off.

“N-nothing about my personality?” he teases softly. Once the material is on the floor, you look at his face. He looks like he’s trying to keep his thoughts coherent.

You smile sweetly at him, a hand trailing up his thick thigh. “How could I forget, hm? You’re beyond obnoxious.”

Before he can reply, your thumb is spreading his pre cum across his tip. Your hand then wraps around the base of his dick. Seungcheol curses under his breath as his eyes widen slightly.

“You’re so annoying,” he gruffs.

“One of my many talents,” you reply teasingly and then lean down.

You kiss his tip gently, eyes flickering up to see his face. His jaw clenches when your tongue licks from the base to his tip gradually. You repeat this action, forcing the smile from your lips with each sharp inhale Seungcheol takes.

His head pushes back on the pillow when you take him in your mouth, lowering yourself until his tip barely touches the back of your throat. Each bob of your head has his cock hardening more. He’s thick, and from the way your mouth stretches around his shaft and from how your hand can’t close all the way, you can’t stop the aching between your legs.

“Shit, Yn,” he breathes out, hand coming up to press down on your head. A louder moan sounds from him when his tip hits the back of your throat for a second. You gag at the sensation and pull away, pumping his length as you take a short breather.

“You’re doing so well, baby,” he praises, voice gentle and caring. His hand reaches down to swipe at the spit covering the corner of your lips. “You think you can do that one more time?”

Nodding, you lower yourself again. You start moving your head up and down on his cock, but eventually, Seungcheol starts thrusting his hips up shallowly. You hollow your cheeks and hum around him, earning you a moan from above at the vibration.

This time when he hits the back of your throat, you stay still. The hand at the base of his dick moves, and you hold his hips instead. Seungcheol draws out another curse when his dick goes farther down your throat. Your nose brushes his pelvis, but he pulls you off before you go all the way down.

Both of you are breathing heavily. Seungcheol’s eyes watch as a string of saliva connects you to his cock. His hand comes up again, breaking the connection as he smears the spit across your cheek. It feels utterly dirty what he does, but your thighs press together at the action.

“Come ‘ere,” he murmurs and guides your body up to his.

He kisses you passionately and holds you close as he slowly flips you over. His lips are still on yours when your back rests on the mattress. The kiss lasts a few more seconds before he breaks it off to trail kisses down your neck. Your eyes close as you angle your chin to give him better access.

While Seungcheol kisses your neck, his hands roam your body. Eventually, one of his hands finds your clit, and you jolt when he starts rubbing circles. Seungcheol nips and licks at your skin, causing you to moan out when he bites a little harder. His hand trails from your bud to your core. He groans quietly against your skin while feeling your damp panties. He rubs you through the material, which has you squirming under his touch. You need to feel him directly—not over your stupid underwear.

“Cheol, take them off,” you whine and move his hands to the top of the material. He adheres to your demand and swiftly pulls the boxers off.

Seungcheol’s mouth opens slightly at the sight of your drenched folds. The coldness of the room has you shivering. Before you can say something, he lowers his head while grabbing your ass and lifting your hips. Once you are close enough, he licks up your slickened lips.

A gasp leaves your mouth at the feeling of his warm tongue against you. He laps at your juices a few times before flicking his tongue against your clit. Your eyes are stuck on him between your legs, completely enraptured at the sight. Quiet gasps leave your mouth as he sucks your bud. He hums happily at your sounds, and then he trails his tongue up your slit, the tip of his tongue prodding your entrance for a second, earning a cry when he simply goes past it.

Seungcheol climbs over you before he can touch your clit. He finds your mouth quickly, forcing his tongue inside. He’s gathered some of your arousal in his mouth, and from his quick actions, he accidentally gets some on the outside of your mouth. However, the grin against your lips tells you it probably wasn’t an accident. You are beginning to realize Seungcheol likes it messy.

One of his hand's toys with your clit again. The sensation doesn’t last long because he moves south. He slides his fingers between your folds a few times, coating them with your wetness, before slipping one inside. There’s no friction since you’re dripping with how aroused you are. You moan into the kiss, and Seungcheol’s smile grows.

He pumps his finger several times and then pushes in another. The slight stretch has you reaching up to grip his sides. He breaks the kiss, eyes staring down into yours as he continues sliding his fingers in and out.

You whimper when he inserts a third, your nails digging into his sides while holding eye contact.

“You’re going to feel so good around me,” Seungcheol thinks out loud.

You moan at his words, thinking back to how big he is. The stretch you’re feeling is only an introduction to what’s to come.

Seungcheol leans back so he can get a better view of your pussy. He aligns his fingers horizontally as he pulls out slowly, causing you to stretch more around his digits. As soon as he slips out, he spreads your folds to see your entrance. Seungcheol gathers some of his spit in his mouth before letting it drop onto your cunt. Then without warning, he rubs your pussy—starting slow but soon speeding up.

“Ah, s-shit,” you cry, hands fisting in the sheets. Your legs move to close, but he presses his other hand down on one to keep you spread.

“You’re making such a mess, baby,” he coos. You can feel a few drops of your arousal mixed with his spit land on the inside of your thighs from his bruising touch.

Just when you are about to plead for him to stop, he pulls away. His eyes are glued to your dripping cunt.

You’ve never felt as needy as you do now. Your eyes fall to his cock, erect and ready to be used. You swallow harshly and reach out greedily. Seungcheol takes your hand, kissing the back of it softly. His eyes are blown out, his hair tangled, and his chest heaving slightly.

He climbs from the bed, and when he gestures for you to come closer, you obey quickly. Seungcheol picks you up, making your legs wrap around his waist as he walks to his bedroom.

You lean down to kiss his neck, but that doesn’t last long, and you feel yourself falling back onto his mattress.

While the rest of the lights in the apartment are off, his side table’s lights are on. You take the opportunity to eye his figure again. His broad chest and muscular thighs have you squeezing around nothing. There’s a part of you that just wants to caress his body all night long; however, the ache between your legs tells you to do that another time.

“Don’t cry,” he says softly when you whine as he moves away from you. “Just gonna’ grab a condom.”

You nod, less sad at knowing what he’s doing. You move farther up his bed as he gets the packet. After securing the condom, he climbs over you.

He presses his lips against yours again, hands trailing all over your body. You let your hands do the same against his skin. It feels so nice to just feel him like you want. Each passing second has you eager for him. You put your hands on his hips and push them toward yours.

“Please, Cheol,” you beg quietly against his mouth.

“I’m really a good influence on you, hm, Cherry?” he playfully replies, lowering his hips until you feel his cock brush your pelvis. You press your body up and move your hips so your clit rubs against his length.

“B-be quiet,” you huff.

“I don’t think you want that,” he says. He grips his cock and rubs it along your folds to coat it in your arousal.

Your arms wrap around his neck, hips bucking.

“Do you want me?” he asks. His eyes bore into yours, the tip of his cock at your entrance.

You nod. “Yes.”

“And what do we say when we want something?” he questions. You roll your hips greedily, but he moves his dick to keep you unsatisfied.

You whine and lean your head back. “Stop playing games, Cheol.”

“That doesn’t sound right,” he tuts calmly.

You know he isn’t going to do anything unless you say what he wants. Whining again because you’re really annoyed with him, you pout. “Please.”

“Hm, close. What do pretty girls like you say when you want something?” he rephrases.

This arrogant man.

“Pretty please,” you concede.

Seungcheol smiles wickedly above you. He presses the tip against your entrance again but doesn’t fully push in. He gives just enough pressure to make you feel a slight stretch.

“That’s exactly correct,” he murmurs and finally slides inside slowly. “My pretty girl.”

A moan erupts in your throat at the feeling of his cock. You don’t know when you closed your eyes, but they open quickly when you realize you can’t see Seungcheol.

His brows are slightly touching, mouth open in concentration.

“T-tell me if you want me to stop at any time,” he instructs as he suppresses a groan.

“Okay,” you mutter. “Keep going. Please,” you beg when he pauses.

He nods and lowers his hips more, pushing more of himself between your walls. A curse falls from your lips when he goes deeper. He continues gradually until he is flushed against you.

Seungcheol rests his forehead on yours as he lets you adjust to his size. You feel so full.

“You doing okay?” he wonders.

You giggle, hand moving to rest on his cheek. “Yes. You feel so good.”

He tilts his chin so he can press a quick kiss to your parted lips.

“A compliment and I didn’t even have to ask,” he gloats and continues before you can reply, “Do you want to keep going?” he asks softly.

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, the need for him to keep going overpowering the need to sass him.

Seungcheol smiles down at you for a second before dragging his hips back, then forward again. He repeats those actions, each time getting a little harder. It has your body jolting up the mattress, but you don’t care. You just need him to continue.

“Doing so well, baby,” he whispers.

“You can go f-faster,” you say. Your hands trail down his torso until they rest on his sides.

“You sure?”

You nod, leaning up to press a reassuring kiss to his mouth. Seungcheol’s eyes are staring down at your chest but quickly snap up at the feel of your lips. He chases your lips after you pull away, slotting his mouth on yours once more. He slips his tongue in your mouth, and you welcome him happily.

Suddenly, Seungcheol’s thrusts speed up.

You pull away from the kiss with a small cry, hands gripping his sides tightly.

“Fuck,” you rasp.

Seungcheol sits up, moving one of your legs to rest against his front while the other lays upon his thigh. He places his hands on your thighs and then snaps his hips into yours rapidly. His eyes are locked onto where he slides into you, watching the way your pussy stretches for his cock.

Your hands move up to rub your breasts, back arching off the mattress when you twist your nipples between your fingers. Your eyes are half open with your lips parted. The feel of his thick cock dragging against your walls, combined with the pinch of your nipples, has you moaning nonstop.

“Shit, baby, you look so sexy like that,” Seungcheol growls, eyes watching your hands intensely.

The compliment has you mewling and clenching around his dick.

“You like looking sexy for me, hm?” he asks, subduing his moan.

You mumble a “yes,” hands pushing your breasts together to give him more of a show.

Seungcheol chuckles softly, lips spreading in a big grin, and slows down his hips. He’s breathing heavily, but he doesn’t stop. Your hands move from your breasts to grip the sheets.

“I would love to have you naked in my bed every day so I could admire you,” he continues. The word “admire” has your heart beating a little faster and a smile on your face. Seungcheol’s own lips tilt up in a grin at your reaction. He turns his head, giving your leg a tender kiss.

Seungcheol glides his cock out of your pussy slowly, and then when just the tip remains, he slams back in roughly. Your breath gets caught in your throat at the power of his hips, walls squeezing around him for a moment. He groans at the feeling.

Seungcheol’s eyes trail from your face to your breasts. They move each time he pushes his length back inside, and it has him gripping your thighs harder. Your skin starts to sting under his touch, but the pleasure between your legs outweighs the pain.

As if reading your thoughts, he eases his grip and carefully moves the leg against his chest to the side so you are spread wide for him. He leans over you, gradually lowering himself so his body is fully on yours. There’s enough pressure to feel his skin flushed on yours but not enough to suffocate you. He moves his hips slowly now. They are shallow thrusts, but he still feels heavenly.

“You sound pretty when you sing for me,” he murmurs, head tucking into the crook of your neck.

Your arms readjust so they enclose around his shoulders. You also wrap your legs around his lower back to keep him close, holding him tightly as you get lost in the way he presses you into the mattress with his body. Your heart clutches at how intimate you feel with him. This type of gentleness is so different from what you experience with him. It’s nice. You wish you can feel it again in the future.

Giggling at his compliment, “T-that’s cheesy, babe.”

You feel him grin against your neck.

“It’s the truth. I love hearing you,” he replies against your skin. It tickles, causing you to squirm beneath him, but you don’t move much since you’re pinned under him.

“I’m close, Cheol,” you whisper into his damp hair. He nods to let you know he heard you. He stays against you for a few more seconds, and you hold him gingerly as he continues rutting into you. You store the memory of his loving embrace in your mind for safekeeping.

Seungcheol slowly leans up. He plants a soothing kiss on your lips before adjusting himself for better leverage. His shallow thrusts steadily get deeper, and his pace increases in speed until he is nearly pounding into you. One of his hands moves to rub tight circles against your clit. A string of moans leaves your mouth as he pushes you closer to your release.

Seungcheol moans when your cunt squeezes his cock.

“God, you’re going to be the death of me,” he husks.

Even though you don’t say anything, your body is conveying how close you are. Seungcheol’s quick pace grows a little frantic, a little desperate as a hand still plays with your bud.

His name leaves your lips when you come, legs shaking slightly as your orgasm courses through you. Seungcheol slows his thrusts as he eases you from your high.

“That’s it, baby girl,” he praises quietly as your body starts relaxing on the mattress. Gently, he pulls out and removes the condom.

When your eyes refocus, you see Seungcheol sitting up on his knees, a hand pumping his shaft. Even though tiredness is taking over your body, you move so you are in front of him on your hands and knees. You remove his hand and replace it with yours.

He watches silently, mouth falling open when you wrap your lips around him again. Hollowing your cheeks, you bob your head quickly while your eyes watch him above. He rakes a hand through his slightly wet hair before bringing that hand down on your head. He slides your hair from your face, then begins to move his hips.

The sound of you taking him in your mouth fills the room. Seungcheol whines, pushing your head farther and letting out a moan when he hears you gag. He pulls you off him, and you gasp for air once you can.

“Almost there,” he informs you before lining himself at your lips again. You nod, making Seungcheol smile as he pushes his dick between your lips.

You breathe through your nose as he fucks into your mouth. Tears start forming at the corner of your eyes when he hits the back of your throat continuously. Seeing his blissful expression has a sense of pride blooming in your chest. It feels good knowing you are bringing him so much pleasure.

“Fuck,” he gasps and pulls away suddenly. You cough when you inhale too quickly. Seungcheol’s head leans back as he slides his hand up and down quickly on his cock. He waits until you’re better before he brings his tip to your lips. You open your mouth, ready for him to use your throat again, but instead, he keeps his dick resting against your parted mouth. Understanding his plan, you stick your tongue out. His eyes stare down at yours. He looks so sexy with a sheen of sweat covering his skin. His forehead is exposed, and his face is scrunched in concentration.

Your name leaves his mouth as a curse when he comes. You moan quietly, eyes closing when you feel his cum land on your face and tongue in spurts. Seungcheol is panting above you, and as you open your eyes again, you see he never tore his gaze from your face.

You go to close your mouth when he’s done, but he stops you—hand cupping your jaw and fingers digging slightly into your cheeks to keep your mouth open. The fierce gaze he wears is one of authority, and fuck, does that have you squeezing your legs together more.

Slowly his cum trails down your tongue, dangling from the tip before it falls onto the bed’s cover. The urge to close your mouth is strong. Even though Seungcheol is holding your mouth open, his grip isn’t strong enough to really stop you if you want to close it. However, you want to please him, so you push down the feeling and stare at his face.

His eyes follow his cum gliding off your tongue, biting his lip at the sight. Goodness, he’s just breathing, but he looks so attractive.

You force down the moan you want to make at knowing Seungcheol gets off on being messy. You want him to make a mess out of you more.

“My good girl,” he whispers. He gathers the cum that landed on your face and moves it on your tongue. He releases the grip to let you close your mouth, staying silent as he watches you swallow the substance.

He leans down and gives you a lasting kiss for a reward before climbing off the bed. He leaves to grab a warm washcloth to clean off the residue on your face. The affectionate smile he dons is contagious, and you stare up at him contently as he cleans you carefully. Once he is done and the towel is discarded, he comes back.

“Move up, Cherry,” he instructs gently as he nods to the other end of the bed. You follow his order quietly. In one hard tug, he pulls the cover from the bed. He dumps it in the corner of the room and then grabs another from his closet.

“Now, lay down,” he says. Once you are in position, he flicks his wrists to open the cover in the air, letting it float down onto your body.

You giggle. “You could’ve just unfolded it first.”

“But wasn’t that more fun?” he replies with a grin.

He climbs in next to you after switching off the lights, hands finding your body quickly. He lays on his back, one arm wrapping around your shoulders while the other rests on his chest. You press your body against his side and bring a hand up to his chest, intertwining your hands together. You watch as he shakes your hands together playfully.

“I think I had more fun earlier,” you belatedly reply.

Seungcheol chuckles. “Is that so? Did I fuck you that good, Cherry?”

You squeeze his hand at his words, not sure why his question has you suddenly feeling shy. Maybe it’s because you’re still feeling a little in the clouds, and your normal bratty self hasn't yet reemerged.

“I had fun too,” he adds when you don’t reply. “I would do it again.”

“Yeah?” you wonder, hopeful eyes glancing up at him. It’s definitely something you won’t oppose if the opportunity arises in the future, and you are happy to know he feels the same.

“Yeah,” he echoes.

A grin spreads on his face upon seeing your expression. He leans down, giving you one last kiss as if promising to keep his word. The act has you wanting to kick your feet as you giggle, but you suppress the desire to do that.

Instead, you snuggle against him more as you let your body begin to melt into his. Comfortable silence fills his room, and you can feel sleep consuming you slowly.

“Sleep well, baby,” Seungcheol says quietly and unravels his hand from yours to move your hair from your face. You peer up at him, smiling.

“Goodnight, Cheol.”

previous chapter \\ series masterpost // next chapter

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panlight · 9 months

Note

You've talked before about how horrifying and weird the vampires in Twilight not being able to sleep, but what if the Cullens suddenly had a need to sleep? Like all of a sudden Edward is laying with Bella while she sleeps and he starts to drift off and ends up falling asleep beside her. Or Alice who doesn't remember what being tired is or remembers sleeping just suddenly gets more and more fatigued throughout the day, along with the urge to flop down and close her eyes. She doesn't understand what's happening and when she looks into the future all she sees is black or maybe some nonsensical scene that turns out is her dreams. I bet there would be plenty of angst, shenanigans and confusion if this happened and hopefully some doctoring from Carlisle to figure out why all of a sudden.

This was supposed to be a short ask but it ended being a lot longer than I thought. Thank you!

I get where she's coming from with the no sleep thing: she was writing this story as a frazzled mom of three young sons who wished she had more time for herself. Hence, the vampires don't sleep, and when asked about her answer is usually like "imagine how much you could get done!"

But the psychological effect of never having and period of rest, of not having periods of sleep to break up time, to just live in one long, never-ending, ever-conscious day . . . sounds terrible. It takes the existential dread of eternity stretching out before you and only compounds it. Just . . . you're going to be around literally forever, and awake and conscious (hyper-conscious, actually, with all the vampire heightened senses and even psychic powers) for all of it.

All that said, yes, I'm sure they would panic if they suddenly started to feel 'tired' or if they fell asleep. That's not supposed to happen, something might be wrong. I've always wondered about like, a virus that affected vampires and what it might look like, and the sleep thing might be part of it. I also thought it would be interesting if some venom lines are immune, or if older vampires were less susceptible to it than younger ones, or something. Just to spice things up a bit and create drama (Alice and Jasper aren't from the same venom line as Carlisle and the rest, for example. Or Carlisle and Jasper are the only two Cullens who are 'old' and even in the context of vampires they aren't that old compared to like the Volturi, the Amazons, the Egyptians or even Jane and Alec or the Denali).

If it turned out the sleep was ultimately harmless, though, that would be a blessing. I'm sure all the couples would enjoy being able to truly just fall asleep in each other's arms or wake up next to their partner in the morning and get to experience those quiet moments of intimacy for real. To have their partner fall asleep on their shoulder, to tuck them in if they come home and find they've fallen asleep on the couch or whatever. Just those little tender domestic moments that don't really work when no one sleeps. But they might also find it lowkey annoying because of how USED to being conscious all the time that they are. Alice especially who doesn't remember being human at all, might find it VERY inconvenient.

I've also imagined that if some sort of 'cure' or 'antidote' to vampirism were possible, falling asleep would be the first thing that happens. You fall asleep as your body slowly 'thaws' and becomes human again.

#asks

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lady-october · 6 months

Text

Pairing : Oli Sykes x Female Assistant Genre : Romance, Smut (18+ Only) Previous Chapters : 1-11 on Archive of Our Own

Story Content : 18+, Smut, Drama, Choking, Power dynamics, Romance, Dom/Sub, Sadism/Masochism, Mentions of addiction & self harm, Degradation, Praise kink, Exhibitionism, Breath play, Dirty talk.

Summary :

“Don’t you see what a dangerous game you’re playing? Why did you have to look so fucking delicious tonight, I couldn’t stop undressing you in my mind, thinking of all the twisted things I want to do to you.” She had only worked on the touring team for three weeks, but her mind had been hijacked by dirty thoughts of a man she barely even talked to. Sure, he was very attractive, but were there other reasons she was so uncontrollably drawn to him? This is a filthy story of pain, self discovery, and love.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Chapter 12: Something is coming unplugged

Chapter title is lyrics from "Itch For The Cure"

We're back to Oli's perspective.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The brightness stung my eyes when I stepped off the bus.

After finishing our pancakes we decided to join the others in the diner across the nearly empty parking lot, but the sun was hanging low in the sky before setting, insistent on dazzling me.

I watched the light bounce off of Alice’s locks as she walked just ahead of me, adorning her head with a golden halo, making her appear even more angelic than usual.

But she was no angel.

And neither was I.

I wondered if she was aware she essentially just struck a deal with the devil.

‘I won’t lie again, and you’ll stop ignoring me.’

The only thing I wanted to do since I first laid eyes on her was drown her in attention, I was just too scared.

Fear however, is a very strange thing. Once you’ve filled yourself with enough of it you’re either crippled by it, or it simply dies and falls off like an old scab. Last night I did so many of the things I feared would make her run for the fucking hills, yet today when I recoil due to my heartache, all she’s done is run towards me, fighting for my attention; struck a deal explicitly not allowing me to ignore her.

I felt a grin tug at my lips.

So I was done being scared, and since it was too late for me, since I already knew I might get my heart shredded into a million pieces by her deliciously demonic hands, I'd be damned if I wasn’t going to be greedy and steal every moment I could with her before my execution.

She needed time, and I was willing to give her that. I couldn’t blame her for being overwhelmed – I’m a lot. So I would respect her wishes, I would maintain the boundaries she set, but I was done holding back on all the little things I feared would scare her off.

If she thought she was overwhelmed now, she wasn’t ready for the beast she just unleashed. I will push her, I will test her, and I will tease her in all the ways I haven’t been letting myself.

I’m not stupid, I know it will more than likely just hurry things along, push her away from me and slip the noose over my neck.

But there was also a part of me that hoped it would have the opposite effect, a level of delusion that couldn’t stop thinking; if only I could get deep enough under her skin, if I could just get her so used to me, so addicted to me, that maybe – just maybe I could claw my way into her heart, and she’d feel all the same things I feel for her.

I watched her delicate little hands sway as she walked, and I once again had to fight off the urge to reach for one of them, to intertwine our fingers as we walked out in the open, not hiding away from the rest of the world…

My heart was fucking breaking.

Bloody hell Oli, get it together.

Not only would that break her boundaries, but I didn’t have time to get emotional now.

I needed to focus.

As soon as we stepped into the colourful diner we saw the guys gathered in a large booth by the window looking out over the road and the desert planes beyond it. The table was covered in half full mugs, cups, and plates with remnants of food on them. Once we got closer you could also see a pile of playing cards, with Matt (which we usually called Matty) slumped over them, appearing utterly defeated.

“Oli, join in on the next round, we can’t let Liam win again.” Lee said bitterly.

I caught a glimpse of Lee’s face as I watched Alice slide into the booth next to him, and he was furious.

“What we playing then?” I asked, wondering what game had driven them to this level of frustration.

“Go Fish.” Matty muttered, sounding as defeated as he looked.

“Should be called Go Fuck Yourself.” Lee added.

The only available seats were next to Alice, but it didn’t matter, I would have found a way to sit next to her regardless.

As I sat down on the end seat of the large booth sofa, I scooted once, a second time, then a third, making sure my legs touched hers as I positioned myself unnecessarily close, especially considering there was plenty of space on my side.

I couldn’t help but grin at her as she shot me a surprised glance.

Liam gathered up the cards with a proud smile, starting to shuffle them, “Not my fault you lads suck at this.”

Lee frowned at him before his eyes darted around to everyone else at the table, “Can we play something else, anything else? I swear Liam’s fucking cheating.”

“Oh please.” Liam said with an eye-roll, “I need the bathroom anyway, play this round amongst yourselves so you losers stand a bloody chance.” He said, pushing off the bright red leather seat, before handing the card deck to myself as he passed me.

I took them off of him and shuffled them for a beat, “Alright, let's see if I remember how to play this then.” I said as I began dealing the cards, throwing them onto the table next to the person they were dealt to, starting with Alice. Knowing full well that she never joins in on our activities.

She looked at me with further surprise, pushing the cards back towards me. As she did the beaded little bracelets she’d worn to cover her wrists moved, and I caught a glimpse of the red marks left there by me, that I had just kissed, causing me to imagine violently ripping the accessories apart and watching as the beads clattered all over the chequered tile floor of the diner.

She was mine.

And an uncontrollably large part of me wanted everyone to know that, despite it not even being true.

Her large blue eyes met mine as she spoke softly, shyly, like she always did when we were around the guys, “I don’t think I want to play.”

Pushing the cards back towards her, I threw her a teasing smile, “Oh come on, love. Have some fun with us.”

I continued dealing her into the game, and she reluctantly took the cards off the table when I was done, clearly too uncomfortable to fight me on this trivial matter.

“I’ll start!” I proclaimed confidently, knowing full well that the dealer never goes first.

“Wait, that’s not–” Lee objected, but I cut him off.

“Alice,” I said, giving her the same look that usually melts her so delightfully, “Give me your sevens.”

I kept my tone casual as I commanded her, but it was a command nonetheless – something I had exclusively only given her in private, unlike my usual polite requests.

Until now.

A faint blush instantly crept up her soft cheeks, as she miraculously still held my gaze. Normally she wouldn’t look at me more than a split second whenever I talked to her around the others, as if being caught locking eyes with me was some unacceptable offence.

A short moment passed before she began scrambling among her cards to see if she could provide me with sevens.

I couldn’t help it, I felt a twinge in my trousers despite having cum just 20 or so minutes ago.

… Inside her.

I should be trying harder to keep the blood from rushing to my dick, but she was just too irresistible like this. Flustered, blushing, and scrambling to obey my orders like the whore she is.

To my surprise she provided me with three sevens, and my smile grew as I fought off the urge to call her a good girl, knowing that would cross a line.

Instead Lee spoke up next to her, “Fucking hell, three of them? That’s gotta sting Alice.”

“It’s fine.” She said flatly, holding the cards closer to me, essentially begging me to take them off of her – to get everyone's attention away from her.

The rush I felt as I collected them was intoxicating, and I couldn’t believe I’d been holding back on teasing her in front of the others until now.

It felt so natural, so right.

And now I never wanted to stop again.

But I also didn’t want her to risk her being out of the game just yet, so I decided to take a short break.

“Don’t worry, I won’t rob you of all your cards.” I told her before turning my attention to Lee instead, asking for his kings.

Liam sat back down opposite me, carefully holding a large milkshake topped with a cherry, “Just one more of these then we can get going again.” He said, focused on not spilling his overfilled drink.

He eyed me up and down while taking a long sip, then offered Alice the same treatment, before turning his attention back to me, “Good nap then?”

I let my eyes quickly dart over to Alice to watch her squirm before I responded, “Brilliant, mate. Feeling all sorts of refreshed now.”

“Wait, were you two shaggin’ on the bus just now?” Mat suddenly asked with a sparkle in his eye, having been unusually quiet since we walked into the diner.

It felt like time came to a screeching halt at the question, but I must have been running on some type of automatic pre-programming cause I spoke up without skipping a beat, without even thinking.

“You really think a lovely bird like Alice would be ruttin' with someone like myself?”

Fuck.

As I listened to myself essentially lie to my mates – something I'd promised to never do to them after all the shite they'd put up with during the worst of my drug use – in order to respect Alice’s wishes, I had in turn disrespected myself and my own wishes in so many ways I felt queasy, making my heart crack even further.

But the conversation continued instantly, everyone around me unaware of my inner turmoil.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Oli. You’re like a solid 3, maybe 3.5 on a good day. I’ve seen other 10’s settle for less.” Matty said, his eyes lingering on Alice a bit longer than I was comfortable with.

Why the fuck is he suddenly flirting with Alice?

The uncontrollable possessiveness I felt for Alice took over, pushing the other turmoil aside for now. So I kicked him under the table, hard, entirely to make him stop looking at her, but under the very convenient guise of a bruised ego from his remarks about me.

He made an embarrassingly high pitched squealing noise then leaned forward to rub at his leg with a frown.

Mat was shaking with laughter as he watched Matty suffer, and Liam was stifling a laugh of his own despite also having gone a bit wide eyed at Mat's sudden and bold question.

Thankfully the conversation moved on quickly as we finished up the game, and before I knew it, it was time to get going again.

I had every intention of sitting next to Alice on the bus prior to the incident back at the diner, to continue torturing her for the rest of the day, but I couldn’t bring myself to.

In fact I hadn’t said a single word to her since.

Now I silently watched her play with her hair as she was talking to Mat. He’d asked about tomorrow's schedule as it was unusually tight, so she’d brought out one of Liam's long lists to show him, having positioned herself right next to him on the sofa so she could speak in her usual delicate tone.

Mat leaned in closer to look as she ran the pen down the page while she explained how the sound check would have to occur alongside a bunch of other things to make it work, and I noticed his arm appearing on the back of the sofa, coming to rest behind her.

I felt like I was falling backwards as realisation hit me like a boulder in the chest.

I swallowed, hearing my own heartbeat in my ears.

You see, the lads hadn’t been as clueless as me and Liam thought.

Mat’s blunt question at the diner wasn’t unwarranted or out of nowhere, because all of them had already taken for granted that we’ve been hooking up, probably from being too obvious in one way or another. So of course he’d assumed we shagged in the bus when we were alone – I would’ve assumed the same thing.

They already fucking knew, and now I’ve fucked it all up by lying to them.

Suddenly, because my dumb fucking mouth, they don’t think we’ve been hooking up at all.

And to make things infinitely worse, they think Alice is on the bloody market, up for grabs to whoever gets with her first.

Panic set in as I watched Mat trying to make a move on her.

I wanted to scream.

I wanted to punch him.

This explains why they haven’t been all over her despite every one of them having voiced at one point or another that she’s fit; they thought, correctly, that I had dibs on her.

And now I was stuck on a bus with three other men that wanted to put their fucking hands all over my Alice.

As soon as she got up to put the notepad away I picked up my phone to text her in a rush.

“Oli: They already knew.”

I watched her as she pulled out the phone from her pocket after getting back in her seat, which was thankfully further away from Mat.

Alice frowned, her eyes darting to mine quickly before typing.

“Alice: About us?”

Realising I hadn’t given her a whole lot of context, I began filling her in.

“Oli: Everyone must have already guessed that we’re hooking up at some point, but after what I said back at the diner they're now under the impression that we never have. So prepare for a lot of flirting from them. Seems the only reason they haven’t been trying to get with you was cause they thought you were mine.”

I noticed myself clenching my teeth as I typed out the last sentence. It felt like nails on a chalkboard to confirm that she wasn’t mine.

She looked around the room, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

I typed up my next message but decided to take a long look at her before sending it, knowing the type of pressure it would put on her – knowing I didn’t have a choice but to address the way I had betrayed a part of myself, betrayed my friends.

Then I pressed send.

“Oli: Hiding what we were doing was one thing, but now I'm openly lying to them...”

She stared at the phone for a beat, then back at me. Her sad doe eyes made my heartache intensify further.

Her attention returned to her phone.

“Alice: Do you need to tell them?”

I knew I did. I owed them more than I could ever repay. I also appreciated her immediate understanding of my situation. And while grating, I had understanding for her situation as well, so I thought I’d help her out some.

“Oli: Yes. But I can hold off for a short while if you need me to.”

I watched as she stared intensely at her phone, clearly deep in thought.

“Alice: Can I have a couple of days before you tell them?”

She looked back up at me, questioning.

I responded straight away, already knowing my answer.

“Oli: Yeah”

I wasn’t happy about waiting, or having misled my friends in the first place, but it was done now and I didn’t want it to have been for nothing. At least this way I was giving Alice some time to become comfortable with the idea of everyone knowing what we’ve been up to.

The delusional part of me was hoping it would be enough time to figure out that she wanted more from me than just sex.

She shot me a smile, then started typing again.

“Alice: Btw, you’re definitely not a 3.”

Very interesting.

Despite how uncomfortable I had made her – how uncomfortable the situation was making her – it appeared she was flirting with me.

I felt a crumb of hope in my breaking heart.

“Oli: Is that so? What am I then?”

She smirked at her phone.

“Alice: At least a 3.8”

I couldn’t help but smile.

“Oli: Ouch, unusually cheeky of you, love. What have you done with my sweet natured Alice?”

She crossed her legs, getting a bit more comfortable in her seat.

“Alice: Someone is trying to corrupt her.”

“Oli: They’re doing an excellent job, you should spend every waking moment with them.”

Her smirk grew to a full blown smile as she typed up the next bit.

“Alice: Really? Means you and I will never get any time together.”

I huffed out a laugh.

This side of her was new to me, and while she was always charming in a multitude of ways, this charm came with a type of confidence I didn’t know she possessed.

I wondered what other sides of her I had yet to discover as I typed up my next message.

“Oli: Double ouch. You’ll pay for that next time I get my hands on you.”

I regretted the message as soon as I pressed send, remembering that there might not be a next time if she decided to pull the trigger and turn me down for good.

For a while I just kept looking at my phone, not wanting to face her after what I wrote. When I finally mustered up the courage to lift my head, she was typing.

“Alice: Speaking of hands on me, what’s the most effective way to keep the guys from flirting with me? I’m already in hell.”

I sighed internally, very grateful for the smooth sidestep in our conversation.

“Oli: Oh love, until they know I’ve been all over you, I don’t think it mattered if you rolled around in dog shit… You’re a solid 10, they’re gonna be relentless.”

I relished the sight of her blushing as she read my compliment before putting my phone away.

As soon as I did I caught Lee smiling at her.

I’m gonna end up killing everyone, aren’t I?

... Subscribe to the story on Ao3 for future updates

#oli sykes #oliver sykes #oli sykes fic #oli sykes fan fiction #oli sykes smut #bmth #bring me the horizon #you got a taste now #smut #oli sykes x reader

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malin-moon · 3 months

Note

Hey Mal👋

Sleep has evaded me and so my brain has the urge bother other people about it.

Since there are "Top 5" polls going around, I was wondering: 1) Who are your current top 5 Thai GL pairs?

2) As a fellow BounPrem enjoyer, now that they're with GMM, what top 5 genres/tropes would you like to see from them in regards to future projects?

Please never feel pressured to answer anything I send lol I'm just a curious bean.

Also

Thank you for tagging me in the poll thingy, I just have weird social anxiety where I think no one care about my opinions so I didn't do it ❤️

-GASP- Have I made it into the inner circle? 👋🏻 Hey Sammi!

Who are your top 5 Thai GL pairs?

Faye/Yoko's chemistry in "Blank" is off the charts. Say what you want about the show, but you cannot deny their talent. It would be great to see them star in something that hasn't been shrouded in controversy so that more people will support them. It's what they deserve!

I enjoyed watching June/View play together in 23.5. They really stole the show for me! I don't know if GMMTV has plans to put them together in another series, but I would not object.

I know "Dream" isn't everyone's favorite series right now -there seems to be a pattern-, but I am very much enjoying Fay/May and their characters. Kim/Wan's relationship is super flawed, and I like how they have conveyed that so far. I happen to have a huge crush on May Yada lol and I feel bad that they seem to get overlooked whenever they have events together with Billy/Babe.

You can't mention Thai GL without mentioning Freen/Beck. @hallowpen is really fond of them, and they've shared stories and interviews in the GC that make it pretty clear how much the girls value and cherish one another. It's really beautiful to see such a strong female bond. I'm eager to watch "The Loyal Pin" because "GAP" felt like a chore to watch -it's just my opinion, don't come for me lol-

I loved Milk/Love as Ink/Pa in "Bad Buddy". I didn't feel as attached to them as Ongsa/Sun. I think they should get another go as GL leads, in a series that's a bit more challenging for them. I know Milk can ACT and I don't think we've seen all there is to see from Love.

As a fellow BounPrem enjoyer, what top 5 genres/tropes would you like to see from them in regard to future projects?

I'm a horror girlie! Anything in that wheelhouse would be super fun! I don't count "Long Khong", Boun was barely in it lol We've seen bits of them flexing this particular acting muscle with Prem in "The Box" and future Boun -if he's still a part of it- in "Zomvivor". But I want to see them really go for it.

Boun achieved his Vampire dream, now let him have his mafia, action, crime drama fantasy. I think Prem would dig action, too. Make it enemies to lovers, mayhaps? This one's for you Sammi!

Boun/Prem do longing really well! Let's upgrade them from a side couple in someone else's fated love story to starring in their own.

I won't say no to another -or several more- fantasy series after "Revamp". I know in my gut that it will be fangtastic -insert corny smile here-

Take a page from Zee/NuNew and have Boun/Prem do a royalty romance! "The Prince and Me" gay Thai version. Hell yeah! *Put them in anything with a GMMTV GL pair. Let them interact with the lovely female talent that is so often underused over there.

#thank you for asking #and fyi I value your opinion on ALL things!#Thai GL #FayeYoko #ViewJune #FayMay #FreenBecky #MilkLove #BounPrem

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yohangaontdj · 1 year

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The Devil Judge Rewatch Ep 9 (Part 1)

This episode has so much domestic bliss that I shall spend Part 1 and Part 2 talking about it.

And it starts with Yohan bringing drinks to Gaon.

The other time we saw Yohan serving a drink to him, it was coffee. And the whole affair was business-like as if they were in a meeting.

This time round, the ambience is casual, intimate. The two of them in their home wear, and so like buddies or family members having a drink after a long day at work.

And we get to see Yohan being vulnerable before Gaon. His emotions, as he talked about his brother. It was there, Yohan not trying to hide it. And to me, it shows how much the two had progressed. How much closer they were that Yohan had allowed himself to be that open to Gaon. Which I believe isn't a thing that Yohan does easily, and will only do so with those that he fully trusted.

Its just so so domestic, this scene. And it makes me feel like they're an old married couple who had been woth each other for a long time.

And it's also interesting that this is Yohan's first time serving alcohol to Gaon. When previously, he had taken the champagne flute out of his hands in Ep 4.

Makes me wonder if it's because Gaon couldn't drink much. I maybe wrong but in the previous episode, he had brought orange juice instead of soju when Professor Min and Soohyun had gathered at his place for a meal.

And then we also have a depressed Gaon with Soohyun at a bar. And Soohyun had to urge him to 'bottom ups'.

This is highly unusual if you have seen a lot of Korean drama. Usually when the drama character is facing some crisis, they would be found drowning their sorrows with bottles and bottles of soju. But we don't see Gaon doing that.

And I can't help but wonder if Yohan had found out by chance that Gaon gets drunk easily. Maybe there were some chocolate with alochol that someone had gifted to Yohan. And Gaon had, after taking two or three, started doing pretty interesting antics when inebriated. (I did write a fic based on the idea that Gaon couldn't drink in my Fictober Challenge 2021).

And so, Yohan only let Gaon drink when the two were at home.

Next, we have Gaon being so at home in the mansion.

Then getting startled and trying to hide what he was watching from Elijah.

I couldn't help be tickled by Gaon's reaction. Cause he had chosen such a public place in the mansion to watch what wasn't a very nice video. Then getting flustered when Elijah had stumbled upon him.

It's the kitchen where anyone can just walk in. And to think that Gaon hadn't thought of that. I take it as a sign he is so at ease in the Kang mansion that he pretty much do as he pleased, just like anyone will do so in their own home.

And here, we have Elijah offering her help to Gaon, her second time doing so.

She did it in Ep 8, offering to hack into the prison system so that Gaon can kill the scumbag who had cheated his parents.

And I love how, each time, Gaon had listened to her with a smile on his face. He hadn't put her down or scoff at her suggestion just because she is a mere sixteen-year-old.

And that takes patience as well as a willingness to treat the other party with respect, even though they are so much younger. Which, to be honest, isn't easlly found in the Asian context where seniority matters a lot.

And this next bit had me laughing so hard. How the sight of Ms Ji taking out an apron, can have Elijah becoming like this.

And Gaon's remark about Yohan never forbidding him to cook! 🤣

And just look at their contrasting expressions in the next pic.

Poor clueless Gaon will find out in the next bit, why Elijah's reaction had been like - Are you mad? Or are your tastebuds that bad, you want to eat Ms Ji's cooking!

I just love TDJ and their sense of humor.

More domestic bliss to come in Part 2.

#the devil judge #the devil judge rewatch #gahan #kang yohan x kim gaon #lawful husbands #yohan x gaon #i just love love them and i want to rave about them.#and thank goodness i can get this out in time.#been a hectic week that makes me want to run to a deserted island so that I can indulge in TDJ without any disruptions

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sydmarch · 2 years

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seeing people on here designing their own skill sets had me soooo inspired to make one too. kept feeling like there was too much overlap between intellect/psyche and physique/motorics so i split mine into just mind/body. some ended up more heavily inspired by harry's skills than others which don't draw from them at all. none of the 'portraits' are actually portraits bcus for the way my mind works i felt more abstract/object based representations just worked better. full breakdowns of each skill, which of harry's it takes after if any, etc below the cut bcus long lol. image descriptions in alt are hopefully helpful i kinda struggled writing them since some of these were pretty abstract lmao.

SALESMANSHIP: one on one people skills. a bit of rhetoric, suggestion, drama, and empathy. reading people, debating, mimicry, understanding what people want and how to act to get what you want in return. represented as it is because sometimes when you're neurodivergent you owe the majority of your people skills to the training you once got on a sales floor. masking falls under this skill along with composure.

CONVERGENCE: people skills in group settings and crowdwork. the ability to find a group of friends anywhere from school to workplaces to parties where you only know one person. reading crowds and the feeling of safety in numbers. finding the best route through packed subway tunnels and sidewalks or leading your friends to barricade at a show. gets +2 from alcohol.

ACUMEN: learned information or book smarts. a mix of encyclopedia and logic. memory, information recall, etc.

WEB WEAVING: conceptualization, but with a heavier emphasis on connecting patterns and drawing parallels. understanding where your creativity comes from and how to connect things that inspire you in new ways. +2 from weed.

INTUITION: protective instinct. somewhat of a half light and inland empire mix. less of an emphasis on gut feelings and more on careful evaluations - often too careful & veering into overthinking. will keep you safe but will also make you paranoid.

CRAFTSMANSHIP: interfacing, but with a focus on tools/artistic mediums rather than machines. familiar mediums like sewing needles, palette knives, and mirrors feel like an extension of yourself. the ability to quickly pick up & acclimate to new mediums through trial and error.

COGNIZANCE: perception, but more than sight hearing and smell. heavy emphasis on touch and a higher than average sensitivity to vibration where many sounds can be felt more than heard. extremely sensitive color vision and innate sense of color theory. synesthesia. a clinical or practical awareness of the body.

FLIPPING EVERY BEETLE: a weird name for a weird and hard to describe skill lol. some of you already know the name comes from part of the clj lyric i have tattooed on my foot. whimsy, childlike wonder, unselfconscious enjoyment of things. allowing your body to lead you. an awareness of the body that feels positive and playful. gets a +1 from alcohol and a +2 from weed or molly.

COMPOSURE: the same as harry's (since I already identified pretty strongly with that skill as is - those who've seen my jacket know) but combined with pain threshold and endurance as I feel all 3 stem from a similar place. keeping emotions in check, nt masking, sitting unfazed through long tattoo sessions, using drugs without getting sloppy or sick.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY: once again, the same as harry's. sex and drugs, but also dancing and stimming. urges and impulsiveness. my version has very different ideas around sex and also different prioritization of substances where out of all the things i partake in alcohol is of least importance.

#my art #de #disco elysium #one of the most introspective things i've ever worked on probably.. almost feels weird to be sharing it LOL but it was very fun to make

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mermaidsirennikita · 9 months

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I'm actually a little worried over the fact that Bridgerton is gonna be the standard for period dramas nowadays, like, that's how period dramas are gonna look like (and I'm not even talking about the diversity part, I'd ve very happy with a show actually giving poc people the protagonism they deserve and not call it diversity and having the only White character to be the main character of the whole show) we have things like The Buccaneers and that horrible Emma film Netflix made and wonder if that's the quality we are gonna have now

Mr Malcom's List was amazing, I love everything about that film, it was so well done

Honestly? I'm not that worried about it. Period dramas have always been hit or miss for me, and I think that while big hits always have an impact on their genres, they often don't have as massive an impact as we may think--because shows that try to follow them underperform, tastes change, and other big hits happen.

An example I'd think of is The Tudors, which... I'm not gonna lie to you. Like it or not, is probably one of the most impactful, if not THE most impactful period dramas we've seen in the past 20 years. It revived the idea of the high end period piece soap for an American audience--and it reminded people that period pieces don't have to be Masterpiece, BBC, ITV, whatever. They could be super sexy and super dramatic and super bloody. You didn't have to be a stickler for history.

That show got a lot of viewers and a lot of buzz--and honestly, it went a long way towards launching the careers of Henry Cavill and Nat Dormer. Showtime tried to replicate it with The Borgias, but obviously had much less success there. HOWEVER, I always think it's a little unfair that GoT gets credit for making period pieces hot again when a) it's not a period piece and you can tell its core audience doesn't associate it with those because of how much they talk about the dragons and the ice zombies and b) The Tudors had already stoked that flame, and then the general Tudor frenzy grabbed onto it, which is why Starz has been able to get mileage out of its PGregs/Tudor-general shows for so long. THOUGH! I hope the flopitude of their last Elizabeth show means they slow up.

You see other mini trends too--Vikings was a big hit, and because of that you got The Last Kingdom and its ilk and Vikings: Valhalla. Vikings really was nothing like The Tudors, aside from the fact that it had somewhat explicit sex for its network (nothing like The Tudors, but still) and centered on a piece of shit who treated women like garbage and needed!!! Sons!!!!!!!! It walked through a door I think The Tudors left open, but it wasn't as clear a followup as The Borgias or the PGregs shows were.

So while I think Bton is obviously having an impact, as seen with Buccs, I'm not worried about its long term impact. I HOPE we see more diverse period dramas continue to be a thing, though I feel that really is less a thing we can thank Bton for (see: Mr. Malcolm's List) and more a trajectory that was brewing already. I mean, Shondaland had technically already done it with Still Star-Crossed, a show I didn't like... at all. But it was diverse.

I mean, shows like Mary and George on the horizon are nothing like Bton and hopefully (if they're good) will have an impact. I think we're slooooowly seeing the rise in more explicit, less woebegone period dramas (not movies) centering queer people. Gentleman Jack got cancelled, obviously, but I think it still made strides on that front, and Mary and George will obviously be very queer but also very much not a "sad queer man is closeted and sympathetic but doomed" narrative. We haven't seen many shows depict a man actually using his sexuality to get ahead the way women are often depicted doing in shows like The Tudors--and at his mother's urging, versus his father's as is usually the case with a narrative like Anne Boleyn's.

Things just come and go in waves. I mean, watch The Artful Dodger if you're super worried about more romantic period dramas, it was so fucking refreshing. I do kind of wonder if the romance in that show was upped BECAUSE Bton had success, but it's so much better than anything they offered, all the while focused on a period of history we never see in international TV (1800s Australia), doing a fun little revamp of a classic story (Oliver Twist), with a diverse cast and a focus on like... medicine? But medicine in a way that feels less procedural and more narrative? Medicine and THEFT? Medicine and Theft and Kissing? And putting a salve on her inner thigh and blowing on it in an alley? And sexual tension during medical exams? (The 30 seconds of Jack and Belle tensing while he sits behind her and listens to her heartbeat in her darkened room after she strips out of her dress is better than anything Bton offered in two seasons.)

And additionally--if books are any indication, I actually don't know that Bton is having that big an effect. Historical romances are going through a slump right now; the most Bton has done is push Julia Quinn's books and offer a "if you like Bton" comp for some books, which...

Yes, Buccs got renewed, but I don't know that it... has had much of an impact? I don't see it mentioned much on social media, which could be my circles, but I also don't see it mentioned much on sites that normally push streaming shows, so. I don't know. I've yet to see a Bton acolyte (and there have been few) actually make an impact and stick around the way some of the Tudor spawns did, or the way shows that followed Vikings did, for that matter.

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steampunkforever · 2 years

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There’s really not a lot I want to say about American sniper. The film isn’t very good, and I think it could’ve used more of a propaganda spin to actually make it worth something. I say this despite my extreme deference to Clint Eastwood, who is not a bad director for as much as this and Gran Torino would have you believe otherwise.

This film isn’t NOT a pro-US military film, to the point that its patriotism feels discordant when contrasted with the message about the war that the film pushes to us.Even so, despite the assertion that Chris Kyle is a patriotic man and doing it for his country, there is very little sign that the combat in Iraq is really worth it. In fact, despite a sniper battle with a shadowy Syrian Marksman who is followed by a slowed-down gunshot SFX anytime he comes onscreen (this movie won an Oscar for sound editing?) and the figured referred to as “the Butcher,” there’s not much about the US occupation that isn’t truthfully portrayed as an imperialist invasion. I miss when military propaganda got to glorify all sorts of awful things and you just kind of sat back and enjoyed it. Top Gun was a return to form, I suppose, but I can’t say I really enjoyed it as a war film any more than American Sniper’s more truthful portrayal.

The portrayal has limits, though. In what feels like a calculated political move, Eastwood focuses the script so tightly onto Kyle’s character that there is no room to examine the larger story behind any of the events taking place in the film. The entirety of the anti-war message is wrapped up in the impact it’s had on the lives of those deployed. Any extra-antiwar messaging comes from the bleak reality of the war beyond the screen that leaks through the sealed bubble that the narrative keeps Kyle in. It’s a character-focused drama, with extra focus coming from Kyle’s tragic death and the heavy scrutiny that his tribe held the production of the film under. With that considered, no wonder there isn’t room to criticize the invasion of Iraq. For the purpose of this story, Kyle is just a guy saving the lives of his men, a sniper watching over them.

I recall when the movie came out and people on twitter got sad about seeing a movie with an American flag in it, seeing a specific post. I don’t recall the exact wording, but the general sentiment was that only America would invade a country, then come back years later to make a film about how the invasion made its soldiers sad. For as pithy as the comment was, it feels artistically reductive. Making films on the inhumanity of an inhumane war, from the standpoint of someone who should be lauded as the hero of said inhumane war should not be viewed as artistically unthinkable.

This is doubly important when considering the premise of the movie lies in Kyle’s realization that his urge to serve his country and help people is better served in civilian life than killing on the battlefield, despite his legend status. The fact that the story was patterned to appeal more to the Navy Seals Are Cool Call of Duty-playing crowd does not eliminate the core messaging here. Especially when that core messaging had Kyle ending combat on a distinctly sour note. But sure, restricting what sort of art should be made is like, very groovy of you.

What dooms this movie isn’t so much the fact that it happens to be about a man who loves his country, as much as the terrible production. The film is shot in digital, which renders shots of iraq flat and washed out (not helped by the color grade) while the shots of America are also flat and washed out, but feel like pre-prepared sets rather than real locations (not helped by the color grade). Everything is artificially sharp and left alone in the light with no assistance from the benevolent blur of film grain. Such is my complaint with early digital cinema, maybe I’ll come to love it one day.

Some of the worst parts of the production were the pre-production embellishments to the story. The Syrian sniper story arc felt cheap and sensationalized, but the first kill sequence was the second worst part of the film for me. Though I understood the need to showcase what a lose-lose situation the war was, sensationalizing the hero of the story by making him shoot a child (which never happened) felt preachy and heavy handed. Frankly, the script could’ve used some work.

“The second worst part of the film?” you ask. “What was the very worst?”

See, the worst part is that I was gonna end this post with a reflection on how an Iranian official once commented that the USA only has no war heroes, only comic book heroes, and opine on if that was overall a good thing or a bad thing. But no, instead I’m ending it by talking about that baby.

The baby. That’s the worst part of the film. That blasted fake baby.

#american sniper #filmposting

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firstumcschenectady · 10 months

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“Seeing the Daisies” based on Psalm 89:1-8, 14 and John 2:1-11

Christianity has a weird relationship with food. In the abstract, with the Communion Meal at the center of our shared worship history, you might think we'd be especially great at seeing the sacredness of food. I think it is fair to say that you'd be wrong.

Before the Christian Testament of the Bible was even complete, we have letters from Paul to various communities saying, “please pay attention to each other when you gather for Communion and Worship.” Because, apparently, the rich people were bringing feasts, the poor people were bringing what they had, and ALREADY they weren't actually sharing. The inequality of the world was coming to the Communion Table, and Paul was displeased.

I'll also note, that I'm not delighted with his answer to this conundrum. Instead of urging sharing, he told people to eat at home in advance rather than feast in front of hungry others.

After the letters of Paul, but before Christianity really got its foothold in the world, much of the tradition was carried on by the Desert Fathers and Mothers. This may be news to you, I hadn't heard of them until seminary. These remarkably faithful humans felt a calling by God to devote their lives to prayer, and went out into the desert so as not to be distracted by the drama of human life. Quite often others came to them seeking their spiritual wisdom. The ones who gathered around these desert wisdom teachers eventually became monastic communities. Cool. One of the problematic little nuances to this though, was that many (most? all?) of the desert fathers and mothers in their zealous pursuit of God and rejection of things of humans, were known for not eating and claiming to be sustained simply by the love of God.

Now, I'll say that these desert parents look a lot more like John the Baptist than Jesus to me, but still, our faith probably wouldn't have made it without them, so they're in our religious DNA.

This underlying hostility to food can still be found in a lot of Christianity, it was striking to me last week as I gathered together readings about the sacredness of food and other “pretties” in life, that books I thought would have some delicious bit of reflection on the profound wonder of reading a ripe apple instead recommended abstaining from the joy of food and considering eating a necessary evil. FACEPALM

Now, we insert our Gospel lesson into this conversation! So that we can hear this while also holding among ourselves compassion for those who struggle with addiction, it probably helps to remember that water in those days in that part of the world was not safe for drinking, and wine was what was commonly consumed. It was a lot less potent than what people drink today, and I think the focus here is on abundant provision rather than specifically on wine. We aren't celebrating drinking, but rather the continuation of a meal where people celebrate – which today can happen with all kinds of drinks.

Jesus is a guest at a wedding, where they are running out of wine which would have been embarrassing to the hosts and likely cut off the party, but didn't fall under the responsibilities of Jesus. There is no consensus on why Mary intervenes. Perhaps the wedding hosts were her extended family. Perhaps she was ready for him to get on with his ministry. Perhaps this whole story is used by John as a foreshadowing of the later feeding narratives. I can't tell you.

What I can tell you is that this story is in the Gospel of John, and is considered by Christian tradition to be the “first miracle of Jesus” and what he actually does is make a ridiculous amount of really good wine that enables a wedding feast to continue and the wedding hosts to save face.

When we look at the problems of the world, this one seems pretty small. It does, indeed, initially seem beneath the attention of Jesus – at least the Jesus of the Gospel of John who is a human who has amazing powers like making water into wine.

But perhaps the idea that this miracle is beneath Jesus comes out of that anti-food and anti-drink part of Christianity. The part of our faith that is AGAINST the world and its pleasures. But, friends, I tend to prefer the part of our faith tradition that is FOR the world, and reminds us to attend to and savor and enjoy the pleasures of life.

Jesus gets accused of being a drunkard and a glutton. Jesus' followers are accused of breaking the sabbath by munching on some wheat while they walk through a field. Jesus horrifies the faithful by eating with the “sinners.” One of the VERY few narratives in all four gospels is the feeding of the multitudes. And, we have this story, Jesus turning water into wine.

Whatever our tradition may say, we follow Jesus who was into food and getting food to people. He did NOT tell people that it was holier to be hungrier. I think he thought of food as a God given gift of abundance that should be shared between God's beloved people. And based on Jesus' fairly excellent social analysis, and his capacity to see the blight of the poor, he knew better than to claim being hungry was GOOD. Because hunger was killing people.

Bill McKibben in Deep Economy says, “for almost all people throughout history (and for most people still today) 'the economy' is just a fancy way of saying 'What's for dinner?' and 'am I having any?”1 That's the world Jesus lived in, and the one we live in.

So, if you'll allow it, I'm going to add a little bit of imagination to the text. I don't think it takes too much. Jesus and his family may have been very poor, at the very least they were landless when land usually meant sustainability. And they were near a lot of Empire violence, which doesn't tend to bode well for already vulnerable people.

Because Mary intervenes, I think it is mostly appropriate to read this story as if she's related to the hosts. Worrying about each other's problems is a family thing. And if Jesus and his family were poor, and this family hadn't been able to provide enough wine, it seems like we can pretty easily imagine that they too were poor. And maybe we can even consider that many of the wedding GUESTS would also have been people living in poverty. The exact kind of people who didn't get a lot of invitations to fancy dinner parties put on by rich people – like in some parables.

So, Jesus – a materially poor guy – is at a party with a lot of other people who don't have an excess of calories or luxuries, and he is asked to help prevent some embarrassment by providing some wine. And he does. He keeps the party going. The people get to connect with each other longer. The hosts are relieved.

The story says that he provided BETTER wine that what they'd all started with.

For me, today, that's the crux of the story. Jesus wants good things for people, in abundance. The amount of wine said to be produced was actually a bit obscene ;) It isn't carefully proportioned, it isn't “just good enough.” It isn't leftovers from someone else's fancy party. It is the good stuff, in abundance, because everyone is worthy of good food and drink. Because Jesus is a person of God, the one who made the world of abundance and asked us to distribute the goods so that everyone gets what they need! And it is ALL the good stuff.

Many of us will sit down at tables this week to savor a feast. If you don't have other plans to do so, please come to the Spaghetti feast on Friday at lunchtime! It also promises to the be the good stuff in abundance.

Whatever table you sit at, with whatever company you will be keeping, I hope you will take the time to savor every bite as a gift from the God of Abundance who wants us to receive good things.

As our poem said today:

We walk on starry fields of white And do not see the daisies; For blessings common in our sight We rarely offer praises.2

The good stuff is all around us, in food and in beauty. We're called to notice. We're called to savor. We need the chance to say thank you to the Holy One for the good!

Of course, there is always a next step, the one where we keep working for God's vision of a world where those resources of good and abundant food are accessible for everyone. But, first, dear ones, first eat and savor. John says Jesus first gave a gift of abundance to a people who didn't expect it, but enjoyed it. We are fed to feed, blessed to be blessings, loved so we can love. Receive what you are given, and enjoy it. It is the Jesus way, even if Christianity can't always seem to remember that! Amen

1Bill McKibben, Deep Economy: The Wealth of Communities and the Durable Future, (New York: Holt Paperbacks, 2007), p. 47.

2Ella Wheeler Wilcox “Thanksgiving” https://poets.org/poem/thanksgiving-1

Rev. Sara E. Baron First United Methodist Church of Schenectady 603 State St. Schenectady, NY 12305 Pronouns: she/her/hers http://fumcschenectady.org/ https://www.facebook.com/FUMCSchenectady

November 19, 2023

#thinking church #progressive christianity #fumc schenectady #first umc schenectady #schenectady #umc #sorry about the umc #rev sara e baron #Savor

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coconutcordiale · 2 years

Text

do not disturb

pairing- jake 'hangman' seresin x female!reader (no use of y/n)

synopsis-

“It’s one hundred degrees in this room,” Hangman defends himself. “I can’t sleep in pants, I’ll die.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, considering just sleeping in the hallway yourself and ending this torture. “Is your penchant for drama genetic? Are your sisters like this too?”

warnings- 18+ only minors DNI, what's a plot never met her, explicit protected piv sex, lil corruption/innocence kink, choking (pls look up the correct way before doing it), hangman's dirty mouth, size kink (if jake doesn't have a big dick I'm staging a revolt), brat tamer hangman if you squint, inexperienced ish reader (tried but I'm a hoe so idk if I managed it), no kink negotiation here (talk to your partners first irl), safewords not explicitly stated but I promise this is consensual af, excessive pet names, exasperated sleepy friends to lovers

length- 4k this was supposed to be like 1k I don't know blame hangman

an- this is just smut w lil fluff sprinkles. i'm a hangman girl (read: I'm obsessed with glen powell) so I felt some type of way about being mean to him in tailspin & that's why this now exists. also idfk what this even is sorry! hope it's not terrible ok ily bye

Technically, it’s the middle of the night.

That’s why you’re burying homicidal urges when you hear knocking on your hotel room door.

Urges that increase tenfold when you open it to see Jake Seresin, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly in an old Navy shirt that looks way too soft for your sleep addled brain to deal with right now.

“Hangman,” you greet drily. “Why the fuck.”

Rubbing sleep from your eyes, you’re not unhappy to see him, per se, but it’s well past acceptable social hours. He’ll have to forgive your less than enthusiastic welcome. Part of you thinks you might still be sleeping.

He at least has the decency to look sheepish for waking you up. Well, about as sheepish as Hangman is capable of looking. “Coyote said he was bringing someone back to our room. Can I crash with you tonight? Everyone else is either hooking up or dead asleep.”

Fucking weddings.

You narrow your eyes. “What if I have someone here?”

He smirks and you kind of want to slap him.

A testament to your willpower, you sigh instead, briefly wondering if it’s really that bad to force him to sleep in the hallway, before opening the door and stepping to the side.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he drawls, letting you feel the heat of his body as he passes by you, just a touch too close for comfort.

“Cool pjs.” He smirks again, raking his eyes up and down your colorful matching shorts and shirt set.

“Bite me.”

Hangman smiles good-naturedly causing you to idly wonder if anything has ever bothered him in his entire life.

“You’re real cute when you’re tired,” he says instead of being offended and now you’re debating if you actually should slap him, or maybe yourself for the way his compliment brings heat to your cheeks.

“Where’s Phoenix? Thought you were sharing a room with her this weekend.”

Your stomach drops as you consider that Phoenix might be why he came to crash in your room, and you try not to make a face at its betrayal.

“She’s probably in your room with Coyote,” you deadpan to cover up your discomfort, and then relish in the way his mouth drops open in surprise. “Christ, aren’t you supposed to be smart, Hangman? I’m kidding, she met someone at the reception.”

You know you’re being a little more abrasive with him than normal, but you can’t quite help the jabs that come out when you’re feeling uneasy.

And Hangman does nothing, if not make you very, very uneasy. Especially like this, with his blonde hair soft and flopping all over his forehead, that old t-shirt clearly having been shrunk in the wash over the years straining across his chest, riding up a little high above his sweatpants.

The gears are clearly turning in his head, no doubt forming something witty to gain back the slight upper hand you’ve gained in this verbal sparring.

You should be preparing yourself for whatever he’s about to say that’s sure to make you lose your footing. But he looks like a goddamn sleepwear model like this, mellow and soft and cuddly, eyes drooping a little from tiredness and the whiskey he was sipping on all night, clothes begging to have someone’s hands fisted in them and…okay. Stopping that train of thought right the fuck now.

Nothing but danger lies down that road with a girl like you and a guy like Hangman.

You’re contemplating if you could get away with taking a cold shower when he finally looks around your room, its distinct lack of two beds apparently killing whatever comeback he had on the tip of his tongue.

“I can sleep on the floor.” He’s rubbing the back of his neck again and his uncharacteristic awkwardness is starting to make your skin itch.

Message received, Hangman. We both know I’m not your type.

You’ve seen the girls he usually goes home with. Even if every single one of them wasn’t annoyingly beautiful, you already know where you stand with him. For all intents and purposes, you’re just another one of the guys. Sure, you don’t take a different conquest home every other night like the rest of them, but you banter and compete with them like buddies.

And since you and Hangman are just buddies, you roll your eyes for appearances. “Just get in the bed, Seresin. It’s huge, I’m not going to make you sleep on the floor.”

He shrugs, like he’s giving himself credit for his half-assed offer and goes to pull his sweatpants off. You give him a withering look of disbelief, studiously avoiding looking at the way his boxers stretch over his muscular thighs.

“It’s one hundred degrees in this room,” Hangman defends himself. “I can’t sleep in pants, I’ll die.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, considering just sleeping in the hallway yourself and ending this torture. “Is your penchant for drama genetic? Are your sisters like this too?”

He just gives you a dazzling smile in response, and you spin away from him before everything inside you melts.

Turning the thermostat down, you shoot an evident you’re welcome stare in his direction, but his sweatpants remain in their place on the floor. He’s laid out on the bed, all tanned skin and muscle, arms crossed behind his head in a way that’s surely meant to draw your attention straight to his biceps.

Deep breath, you tell yourself. You can do this, just lay down on the other side and don’t be weird.

You get in and pull the covers tight, hoping the shiver that runs through you as the air conditioning kicks on isn’t noticeable.

“And I’m dramatic,” Jake huffs, getting under the blanket and rolling closer to you. You tense, merely out of reflex and a frown creases his eyebrows almost imperceptibly before he gets comfortable on his side, pulls you into his arms. “Relax, sugar. Just trying to keep you warm, since you’re always so cold. Been told I’m like a furnace.”

By who? You want to snap at him, but instead you swallow the words and lean into his chest. He really is warm.

“Would never do anything you don’t want me to,” he mumbles, but there’s a trace of a chuckle in his voice that feels like he’s making fun of you.

Mocking aside, that's definitely true.

You'd never expect him to do any of the things you want him to, either. There's a reason your apprehension stems from you crossing some sort of invisible line with him in your bed and not vice versa.

"I know," you whisper, not trusting yourself to say much else without divulging all the thoughts about him you've buried deep under your comforter at home.

“How come you didn’t ask anyone else to come up and keep you warm?” Jake teases, after a few moments of silence where you were busy focusing on the whirr of the air conditioner and trying to ignore your pounding heart.

You squint, still kind of wondering if he can feel your pulse racing.

“The curly haired guy, from the wedding,” he supplies helpfully to answer your confused expression.

Oh. You’re surprised Jake noticed you talking to him at all. “It’s not like I wanted to sleep with him. We were just chatting.”

“Well, he definitely wanted to.” You’d love to imagine there’s a hint of bitterness in his tone, but you know that’s just wishful thinking.

“That’s not really my thing,” you say quietly, as if he doesn’t already know. He knew enough to know you wouldn’t have anyone up here with you, after all.

It’s so much easier, laying here in the dark, not having to meet his beautiful green eyes, to be honest. All your jabs having melted into smooth, silky edges at the warmth of his body.

There’s a playful lilt to Jake’s voice again. “Sex?��

You smack him lightly on the chest. “One-night stands. I can never get comfortable enough with a stranger to have a good time, things are just better for me when it’s more involved.”

When there’s feelings, you don’t say, because you’re pretty sure he can put two and two together without you having to spell it out.

You still kind of wish you hadn’t said anything, are kicking yourself for admitting that out loud when he cuts through the anxiety of your internal monologue.

“Nothing wrong with knowing what you want, darlin’.”

“It sucks sometimes,” you admit. “It can be a little lonely.”

“Better than being with the wrong person if it’s just going to make you feel bad.”

Part of you wants to roll your eyes and scoff at him, as if Casanova Jake Seresin has any idea what that feels like, but he’s rubbing small, comforting circles in between your shoulder blades and it’s short-circuiting your brain. You find yourself running your fingers up his spine instead, playing with the soft threads of his t-shirt like you’ve wanted to since the moment you saw him at your door tonight.

“Feels nice,” he comments, pulling you in closer.

Spurred on by his praise you keep going, wandering down his back to where his shirt rides up. You look down and see that little strip of blonde hair that disappears into the waistband of his boxers, slung low enough that you can see that stupid Adonis belt on his abs. Your hand moves to the front of him of its own accord, tracing the ridges there, brushing dangerously close to the strip of elastic at the top.

Jake’s arm pops up so he can support his head with his hand, looking down at you imploringly. “What’re you playing at, sugar?”

You take your hand back like it’s been burned, cheeks suddenly hot as you realize you’d gotten carried away. “I’m sorry, I just—I didn’t think about what I was doing. Got distracted.”

He’s definitely smirking, you can practically feel it in the air above you, but you’re sure as hell not going to look up and see that self-important grin for yourself.

He pulls your fingers back to his stomach, and you can’t help but immediately brush them over his happy trail. The dusting of blonde hair surprises you a little, having expected Hangman to be too vain to leave any hair around that might distract from his physique.

You’re silently wondering if he has any hair on his chest when he catches a finger under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. You see his green eyes darkened, studying your face for something. You’re not entirely sure what.

Apparently finding what they’re looking for his expression softens, the hand supporting his head going to brush hair away from your face and you break eye contact, feeling small under his undivided attention. His fingers hover for a second, like he wants to do something more, but go to rest on your pillow instead.

“Thought that I had you pegged wrong all along for a second there, using lines to get in my pants. That’s not really my thing,” he mimics, smile twitching at the edges of his lips.

“Oh, I’m—Jake, I’m not—” you stutter, certain you must be bright red now. Your fingers are playing with the hem of his t-shirt, nervous and fidgety energy working to get released.

I’m not like this, you want to say. I’m not like you.

He exhales audibly, looking down at you, at the cherry blooming on your cheeks, at where your dainty fingers pluck at his shirt. His hand clenches once in the pillow above your head, knuckles practically white, before releasing.

“I know, sweets, was only joking. Fuck, I get that you’re a good girl,” he breathes, strained like he’s barely holding it together. “S’why I always want to ruin you.”

What.

Everything inside your mind shuts off.

All you can hear is the humming of the air conditioner, the slow intake of air into his lungs. Something inside you clenches.

You’re fairly certain a sound that closely resembles a whimper breaks from your throat, but you can’t know for sure, since all thoughts have been erased from your brain.

You hear him suck in a sharp breath, breathing in and out evenly for a couple seconds, regaining control, before he speaks again. “Sorry, sweetheart. Shouldn’t have said that. I won’t, told you I’d never do anything you don’t want.”

You already know that. That’s not the problem. The problem is how many nights you’ve already spent wishing his fingers were on you instead of your own. How many nights you've spent biting back his name, too embarrassed to let your lips form the syllables of someone who you were certain didn’t want you.

Now, though, those walls of certainty seem to be crumbling at every edge.

“What if I want you to?” You ask quietly, barely above a whisper. It almost gets stuck in your throat, but you force your lips to form those words and let them leave your lungs.

Jake’s entire body goes tense.

But then he rolls over, putting you on your back and caging you in with his arms.

“You mean that?” He’s looking at you intensely, so intensely you might be frightened if you weren’t distracted by the weight of him on top of you, by every single scorching point of contact between you.

All you can manage is a nod, eyes starting to glaze over as he fills every inch of your vision.

He chuckles. “Guess that’s a yes.”

Jake ducks his head to kiss you, it’s sweet, sweeter than you ever would’ve expected from him. Sweeter than you thought it would be when you were hiding beneath the sheets in your bed, with your fingers on your clit, choking back his name.

But then he slides his tongue past your lips, deepening the kiss as he tangles a hand in your hair, tugging hard enough to make you moan straight into his mouth. His lips move down to ghost over your neck, across your jaw.

And suddenly his words are hot in your ear. “What do you want, sweetheart? Want me to ruin you? Tell you about all the times I’ve thought about taking you apart?”

Your thighs clench together, heat blooming in your stomach and you notice, all at once, how wet you really are, slick pooling between your thighs under the wispy material of your sleep shorts.

You open your mouth to say yes, desperately trying to find your voice, to find your familiar jabs so you can go toe to toe with him like normal, but all that comes out is a squeak.

His hand stops at your neck, just briefly, thumb rubbing on your pulse point. And it turns every last bit of you in you to sweet, sticky, melting caramel. Your breath hitches, you suck your bottom lip between your teeth, holding back a whimper.

He’s not even doing anything, not really, but your mind immediately latches onto what he could be.

Jake’s eyes go wide for just a second before something wicked glints in the thin ring of green left.

“Thought you were so fucking innocent,” he grunts, running his thumb from your pulse point to your jaw and back again. You bring your hands to his, pulling him closer, silently asking him to press down.

You open your mouth to respond, but you don’t know how to explain. You may not do this kind of thing a lot, but you know what you like. Your imagination has certainly run wild enough times.

But any words that might’ve been readying themselves to leave your lips wither into nothing the moment he squeezes your neck.

“Jake,” you gasp, words breathy underneath the fingers around your throat. “Jake, I…”

“Hmm, what’s that, sweetheart?” His hand relents a little so you can answer, but you immediately wish he’d tighten his hold again.

“Yes, Jake,” you whine. “I want you to ruin me.”

And you don’t know what’s come over you, if you were even an ounce more present in your own body you’d probably be embarrassed.

But Jake’s head drops next to his hand at the crook of your neck, and he makes a strangled noise, the moan reverberating through your skin.

“Jesus,” he mutters against you. “Trying to kill me, sugar?”

You don’t have an answer for that because you’re not trying to do anything, you just want more.

Your fingers are still grasping his hand, the one still around your neck, tightly, like you’re scared he’ll pull it away, leave you to drift without his grip to ground you, to remind you this moment is real. It’s actually happening.

He lifts his head up to latch his mouth onto yours again and it’s heavier, so much more desperate than before. You whine into him as he slides his hands down your body, pushing up your shirt and you want to laugh at the absurdity of it, that you’re more turned on than you’ve ever been in your entire life and you’re both still fully clothed.

He peels your shirt up and over your head, letting out another obscene groan at the sight of your bare chest.

“Fucking perfect,” he murmurs.

You fist your hands in his shirt in answer, tugging upwards, figuring fair is fair. You’re trying hard not to blush, not to show how his approval makes you light and fuzzy. He grins and sits back on his knees, pulling his shirt up and over his head, ruffling his floppy hair in the process.

Lips parting unconsciously, your tongue flicks out to wet them. You knew he was built, but it’s overwhelming, really, to have all that tan skin on display just inches from your face. You get to run your hands up the length of his entire chest now though, leaning up so your fingers can dance through the tuft of blonde hair near the top.

Jake pushes you down on your back, firm, into the pillows. Smiling deviously when you pout and immediately clench your fingers in the sheets beside you, when your thighs press together, seeking some sort of relief to the ache between them. The seam of your shorts presses just right against your center, and you let your head fall back with a soft moan.

Something akin to dangerous flashes in Jake’s eyes, as he hooks his fingers in your shorts, pulling down in one swift motion and tossing them off the bed before you can gain any more pleasure from the thin material. He pushes your legs apart and groans at the sight of you, glistening wet for him. “God, sweetheart, look at you.”

Just when you think you might die if he doesn’t put his hands on you, if he doesn’t touch you, if he just keeps looking at you like that, like he wants to devour you; he swipes a finger up your slit, tip pressing lightly, teasingly against your bundle of nerves. It’s too much, but not enough all at the same time. He slides a finger in, curling it exactly right on the first try and you can’t help but keen, throwing your head back into the pillows.

He sucks in a sharp breath at your reaction, eyelids going heavy as he presses rough figure eights on your clit. “Want to get my mouth on you, get my tongue inside that gorgeous pussy, but I can’t wait, darlin’, been thinking about this for too long.”

Warmth blooms in your chest at the realization he might’ve imagined this even half as much as you have. You’re sure you’re smiling like an idiot.

Reaching down to the pocket of his sweatpants, he pulls a condom out of his wallet, and you want to tease him, presumptuous much? But any semblance of thought goes out the window when he pulls his boxers down, hard cock slapping against his stomach. Your mouth is suddenly, immediately sandpaper dry.

Fuck.

Of course he’s huge. No one with an ego as colossal as his doesn’t have a reason, or several to back it up.

You don’t even hear yourself saying it out loud, don’t even realize the curses forming on your tongue, until he grins, eyebrow raised, chest puffed out in pride. “Think you can handle me, sweetheart?”

It takes you a few moments to answer, to figure out that you should answer, since you’re transfixed on him, on the strong fingers rolling the condom onto his length. If you had any sense of self-preservation at all you might be genuinely worried about his question, about not being able to walk tomorrow.

Hopefully you don’t sound as winded as you feel when you tell him to shut the fuck up.

Before you can bother with any stupid survival instincts, you’re pulling him down on top of you, wrapping your legs around his waist, savoring the grunt it draws from him as his tip reaches your folds.

“Love it when you’re mouthy, darlin’, nice little challenge for me,” he promises, before pushing himself inside of you.

He goes slow, tortuously slow, and you screw your eyes shut tight as your walls flutter trying to adjust to him. You don’t notice you’re on the verge of a sob until he brushes your hair back from your sweaty forehead. “Just a little more, sweetheart, you can take it.”

The stretch of him seems to go on forever, just on this side of agonizing, but way too good for you to care about the pain, too good to be real and you can barely focus on anything else. Can barely hear Jake’s molten honey voice repeating a slew of continuous praises in your ear, can barely register the weight of his body covering every inch of you.

Any moment now you’ll wake up in your bed at home, covered in sweat, grinding into your bed, achingly alone. You’re almost certain of it.

But then you feel his lips on yours again, hand holding your cheek, gentle, affectionate as he bottoms out. When he finally moves, the heavy, slick pull of him in and out of you reminds you that you’re here.

You don’t even recognize yourself, mewling, long string of unintelligible noises tumbling from your lips.

Jake practically preens. “Where’d my feisty little brat go? That all it takes to shut you up, sugar?”

You can only hope those were rhetorical questions because he’s hiking your legs over his shoulders, picking up the pace, new angle hitting that spot deep inside you again and again, and you can’t form a single thought, let alone words.

Jake’s fingers find your center again and press against your clit in heavy, decisive circles, winding that coil in you tighter and tighter.

“So close,” you whimper, fingers tearing at the bedsheets.

He smirks.

“Did I say you could come, sweetheart?”

Your jaw drops in surprise, eyes rolling back and ears ringing, mind engulfed in the heat burning in your belly.

He’s still grinning smugly as one of those large hands comes back to your neck.

You whine, high-pitched and breathless, eyes fluttering closed, gripping the hand around your neck as he applies pressure, desperate for something to hold onto, and you think you’re trying to form words, some of them may even be making it out of your mouth, something along the lines of please please please, let me come, Jake, I can’t, JakeJakeJakeJake…

“So pretty all fucked out like this, stretched around my cock.” His gaze is fixed on where he’s plunging in and out of you, tone almost reverent. “It’s okay, sweetheart, come for me, wanna feel you, want…”

You don’t hear the rest because you’re focused on where his fingers dig into the sides of your neck, tipping over the edge, string of lights inside of you tangled and blowing a fuse. Everything bursts all at once and you’re clutching Jake’s arms so hard you’re positive you’re leaving marks, but it doesn’t matter, you don’t care because you’re in a free fall, toes curling in bliss.

When you come to, you’re just barely aware of his pace growing erratic, hand on your throat loosening as it goes to brush your sweaty hair back from your forehead. His thrusts are getting shallower, mouth spewing a litany of jumbled praises so tight, so wet, so perfect baby, when suddenly he’s arching over you, hands tight on your hips as he empties into the condom.

You’re not sure you’re still functioning. You’re not sure you’ll ever move again. You’re pretty sure you’ll ever have a coherent thought again.

Distantly you can hear his heavy breathing, feel his weight on top of you but you don’t fully register it.

“Sweetheart?” He asks when you’ve been silent for minutes, or maybe hours, who knows.

You look up at him, blinking slowly, eyelids made of lead, vision unfocused.

Jake grins, and it's almost boyish. It's annoyingly cute. “That good?”

That cuts through the haze enough that you kind of want to slap him, for the arrogance littering those three little words. Or yourself, for helping his ego grow any bigger.

As it stands, you’re too dazed to actually do either. You nod, silently burrowing your face into his neck. He chuckles again, and you decide maybe you don’t hate that teasing sound that much, maybe you’ll spend your days trying to elicit it from him as often as possible. You’re still thinking about it when he peels himself off you to clean you both up.

When he settles back down, he pulls you in tight, curls around you in a way that should be uncomfortable, like he’d crawl inside your skin if he could.

Jake is still glued to you when you wake up in the morning, and your heart clenches too affectionately to be irritated by the fact that you can’t really move. Or breathe.

But you take one look at the smirk on his face, the mischievous glimmer that seems to linger even in his sleep and the butterflies in your stomach turn to stone.

You don’t think he’s that much of an asshole, you’re pretty sure the bravado is all a front. That he wouldn’t do something like this, knowing how you operate, without any intention of moving forward, but the anxiety still thrums incessantly beneath your ribcage.

You’re lost inside your own head, fighting the panic rising in your chest when he yawns, rubbing his eyes before tucking himself back into your side, impossibly closer.

“Guess that fifty bucks I gave Phoenix to find somewhere else to stay was a steal,” he mumbles, fingers dancing across your bare skin.

It’s his turn to pat himself on the back as your mouth drops open in shock.

Jake grins, eyes sparkling as he presses a kiss into your hair. “Good luck getting rid of me now.”

#jake hangman seresin #hangman x reader #hangman x you #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #hangman smut #hangman top gun #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin smut #jake seresin fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic

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sailorkamino · 2 years

Text

Chaotic

chaos in us masterlist | moodboard

relationships: steven grant x avenger!witch!reader, future marc spector x reader, jake lockley x reader [gender neutral]

word count: 2.3k

summary: When you move to London you aren't expecting to fall in love. You also aren't expecting an Egyptian god who kind of sounds like Darth Vader to crash your date but that's just your life apparently.

warnings: reader assaults khonshu with bread, enemies to friends w/ khonshu, big bird is kinda rude to steven but u put him in place

a/n: reader uses chaos magic and is also psychic, f/c = favorite color, steven/marc/jake are moon knight but lets pretends the whole harrow/armpit drama hasn't happened yet, thanos never happened bc i said so

Before you even met Steven, you felt him.

That sounds odd but your abilities make you constantly aware of others, which can be a lot. Especially in such a bustling city like London. Of course you didn’t read his mind or anything. It’s a common misconception that telepaths just love to read minds but that’s not true. You only use it on enemies for information, if you just went around listening to people's inner thoughts you’d probably drive yourself mad. People are weird.

All that being said, you decided to go to the London museum, thinking it would be quiet and relaxing. A nice little escape. You didn’t think how overwhelming it would be to be surrounded by history, invading your senses with centuries of stories. Mostly fucked up stories because colonialism. After years of studying magic your mind is like a fortress, but that didn’t stop the artifacts from banging on your mental door. You’re incredibly grateful that you’re able to control your visions now. You do not want to see all this shit first hand.

You manage to stumble into the gift shop, one hand rubbing your temple in an attempt to ward off the coming headache. You sense some kind of power, something looming and ancient. You wonder if it’s from the Egyptian wing you just walked through but this feels more… recent. It’s an odd sensation that isn’t helping your overwhelmed mind at all.

“Are you alright?” A gentle voice acts. Apparently you aren’t doing great at hiding your discomfort. You look up to meet the deepest brown eyes you’ve ever seen, framed with dark eye bags. He's absolutely beautiful. Like a sleep deprived male model. Before you can answer you find yourself stumbling, dots swimming in your vision. He quickly leaves the counter to grasp your arm with large, gentle hands.

His touch burns through your designer coat (a parting gift from Tony Stark) but not in a bad way. His energy is unique. Divided but whole. Chaotic but reassuring. “I’m fine, just a dizzy spell.” You mumble, trying not to lean into his body. Would it be manipulative if you pretended to faint so he would catch you? No, you’re better than that. Barely.

“You sure? Maybe you should sit down. I could get you a drink, or a snack.”

You should tell him that you’re fine but for some reason, you can’t bring yourself to pull away. He’s just so genuine. And look at that hair... would it be weird to touch it? You suppress the urge, managing a polite response, “that sounds nice, but I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble. I think I just need some fresh air.”

“Don’t worry, my boss is always telling me to be more helpful with customers. Lets get you outside, yeah?”

You grin, lidded eyes flicking to his name tag, “thank you, Steven. That’s very kind of you.”

He flashes the sweetest smile you’ve ever witnessed, making you even more light headed. He keeps his grasp on your arm as he leads you to the exit. You can already feel your mind clearing thanks to the distance between you and the artifacts. Once you’re safely leaning against the wall Steven speaks up, “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere."

You can't help but dopily grin as he speed walks away. Within a minute he’s back by your side. He presents you a bag of scarab gummies, “here you are.” He pauses for a moment before adding, "I don’t know why we sell these, they weren’t eating stuff like that in Ancient Egypt, were they?

“Thank you.” You smile, finding his rambling adorable. You try not to react when you take the candy from him and his calloused fingers brush your own. “I’m also realizing I never introduced myself, I’m Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. That’s a pretty name.”

Before you can stop yourself you mutter under your breath, “you’re prettier.” You watch in horror as he tenses up, ears burning red. “I-I think you’re pretty too. Beautiful, more like it,” he fumbles. Suddenly the gummies are out of your hand. You look down to see them floating above your palms, surrounded by a F/C glow. You quickly snatch them from mid air. Luckily Steven is too busy staring at his shoes in embarrassment to notice.

You clear your throat nervously, catching his attention. “So, do you like working here?” Really? That’s the best you could come up with. You mentally facepalm as he nods like a rather adorable bobblehead. “Oh yeah, I love history. It would be nice to be a tour guide though. Maybe one day, right?”

You hum in response, shoving some sweets in your mouth before you can ask any other dumb questions. “Do you, um, like your job?” He asks politely.

You pause. So he really doesn’t recgonize you. Not that you consider yourself famous but ever since you joined the Avengers on a few missions you found yourself thrust in the public eye. You meet a lot of fans but people also tend to be… wary of you. Apparently being one of the most powerful magic users on Earth makes them uneasy.

“I work… in security.” That’s technically not a lie. “It can be stressful but I get to travel a lot so that’s fun.”

“Have you ever been to Egypt?”

The childlike excitement in his voice is absolutely adorable. “A few times, yeah. What about you?”

“No, I wish. I’d love to go someday.” He sighs wistfully. “Enough about me though, are you feeling any better.”

His concern makes your heart flutter. “Much.” You grin, shuffling your bag on your shoulder to look for your wallet. “How much were the gummies?”

“They were only a few pounds, don’t worry about it.”

Thoughtful, gorgeous, and polite? You’re convinced Steven was written by a woman. You bite your lip in a way you hope looks flirty. “Well I need to pay you back somehow. What about lunch?”

He freezes, looking at you incredulously. “Are you… asking me out?” Any confidence you had starts to shatter. “I’m trying,” you mumble embarrassed. He shakes his head vehmently, “no, I didn’t mean it like that, I’m just surprised! I mean, you’re so beautiful!”

You smile so big your cheeks hurt. “I think you’re beautiful too, Steven.”

His tan cheeks flame. “Thank you.”

“Can I have your number?”

He nods enthusiastically. You pull out your phone and type in his digits as he tells them to you. “I left my phone in the gift shop but I’ll text you as soon I get inside,” he promises, rocking on the balls of his feet. You grin as you send him a message.

“Stevie!”

A loud, feminine voice makes you both flinch. An aggravated woman pokes her head out the door, popping her chewing gum far too loudly for your liking. “What are you doing out- wait. Are you Y/N L/N?”

Steven looks at you in confusion as you nod with a charming smile. You can tell that she’s Steven’s superior and decide to help him out. “I am. What’s your name, hon?”

“Donna! I’m a big fan. It was so mental when you closed that portal to hell in New Jersey!”

Steven’s eyes become impossibly wider. “Yeah, that was a difficult one.” You reminisce fondly. “Would you like a picture?”

She nods excitedly, pulling out her phone. You take a selfie, trying not to chuckle at her excited gasp when you sling an arm around here. You try to ignore Steven’s bewildered gaze. Hopefully what you’re about to do will make up for your little fib.

“You know Steven here has been very helpful,” you muse after she clicks the photo. She looks at you surprised. You can already tell she doesn’t particularly like the man (which is quite bewildering to you, how is it possible to dislike Steven?)

"Really?”

You nod with an affirmative hum. “I bet he’s your best tour guide, isn’t he?”

“Oh, he actually works in the giftshop.”

You feign shock. “Really? I was hoping he could give me a private tour sometime,” you pout sadly. Donna hurries to comfort you, “oh, he can do that! I’ve been meaning to promote him anways!”

“That’s great!” You grin, turning your attention back to a very confused brunet. “I’ve gotta go but I’ll be looking forward to seeing you, Steven,” you purr, lightly squeezing his (suprisingly muscular) bicep. He nods dumbly watching you walk down the steps.

“Oi, what were you doing with a bloody superhero?” Donna asks him incredulously, the jealousy clear in her voice.

“Planning a date.” He breathes out softly, still wondering if the interaction was just a dream.

____

It’s the day of your date and Steven is ecsatic. Marc and Jake are not. They agree you’re beautiful but are very against the idea of going out with an Avenger, saying it will get in the way of their ‘business’ with Khonshu. But Steven is tired of letting that bloody pigeon influence his life so he ignores all of them, puts on his favorite jumper, and goes to the closest florist shop.

And that’s how he finds himself standing infront of you with a boquet of sunflowers.“These are just beautiful!” You gush, pressing a kiss againt his cheek as you take them. He flushes adorably. You do a quick scan around the park to make sure no one is looking before conjuring a vase with water. Did you do it just to show off? Yes. Yes you did.

You place the flowers in the middle of the picnic blanket. “Now we have a centerpiece,” you hum happily, grabbing the wicker basket you brought. He sits across from you, watching in awe as you pull a variety of noodles, dumplings, rice, and tofu dishes out. Like clowns coming out of a little car.

“Try this,” you offer, handing him one of the containers. “And don’t worry, it’s all vegan.”

He opens it to reveal ball shaped food he recognizes as dim sum. He uses the provided chopsticks to pop one into his mouth, moaning at the combination of steamed vegetables and rich seasoning.

“This is amazing!” You grin in response, working on your own fruit and tofu skewer. “That’s because it’s the real deal. I went on a little trip to Hong Kong this morning.”

He pauses mid bite, resembling a confused chipmunk. You snicker. “I can teleport, remember?” You point at his empty cup, feeling it with juice. “Maybe on our next date I can take you to Egypt?”

He inhales the dimsum in shock, choking loudly. You use your powers to pull the food out of Steven’s throat, looking at him in concern. He quickly swallows the drink you made him.

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah, aces. Just got a bit too excited.”

“You’re adorable, Steven.”

As the date goes on you open up to each other. He tells you about his DID, which you could somewhat sense already. His mind felt different but you couldn’t put a finger on it. You tell him about how you struggled to control your powers and accept yourself. You used to feel like a weapon but you learnt that weapons aren’t always a bad thing, they can be used to protect others. Instead of a nuclear bomb you started seeing yourself as a shield.

For once Steven doesn’t feel like an outsider. He wants to tell you about Moon Knight. He knows you won’t judge him. Just as he begans to build up the courage a booming, gravelly voice rattles in his head.

“Don’t tell them anything, worm!”

You both flinch. A shiver runs through you as your hair stands on end. All your instincts are telling you to get ready for a fight. That sense of ancient power you felt in the museum is back tenfold. “Did you hear that?” You ask Steven.

He looks at you in complete shock. “What?”

“Can the witch hear me?”

“Okay, where is that Darth Vader voice coming from?” You groan, eyes glowing F/C. Your powers mean you’re always aware of your surroundings, you don’t like this sudden uncertainty. Especially not when Steven is at risk.

Suddenly a large mummified being with a bird skull appears behind your date. Because this is what your life has come to apparently. “Can you see me, witch?” Without saying anything you use your abilities to send a roll flying, hitting him square in the beak. He flinches back in surprise. Steven watches on, not knowing if he should laugh or shake in fear. Maybe both.

“Does that answer your question?” You ask sassily. “You’re some kind of deity right? I’m getting Egyptian vibes,” you muse outloud. Despite having no real facial features he manages to look unimpressed. “I thought you had magic, yet you can’t figure out who I am, little one?"

You squint at him for a moment, reaching out your consciousness. “Khonshu? I think I’ll call you cashew.”

“You will not!” He bellows. Poor Steven flinches at the volume but you just purse your lips. “It’s not fun being called stupid nicknames, is it?”

He pauses, tilting his skeletal head at you. “Excuse me?”

“You called Steven a worm. That was very rude,” you huff protectively. “You should really treat your avatar better.”

“You know about avatars?”

“Magic, babe,” you remind, wiggling your fingers as sparks dance between them. “I want to be in Steven's life, and his alter’s if they’ll have me. We’ll be spending time together so we might as well get along, don’t you agree?”

The god nods reluctantly. “I suppose.”

“Good,” you beam up at him. “But if you ever disrespect Steven again we will have words,” you promise in a sickly sweet voice.

Steven looks at you in absolute awe. ‘I changed my mind. I like them,’ Marc speaks in his head. ‘That was fucking hot,’ Jake adds on helpfully. For once the system agrees on something.

____

taglist: @jallerentrags @huitzilinthebudgie3 @wintergirlsoilder2 @dreamerkim @jupitersmoon167 @n1ght5h4d3-24 @darkened-writer @sunipostsstuff @bex-tk1 @musicconversedance @nemtodd-barnes1923 @thegotfangirl @your-frenly-emo-rat @dadstarkblacksoul @certifiedhunter @tagakalat @galactic-galabee @yoongiwithglasses @theyaremorethanjustfictional @booksandbenbarnes @faefanatic @ness-is-vanillabean @lovesickollie @kemisuu @missdragon-1 @ristare @jck-r @brekkers-desigirl

if ur name is highlighted i couldn't tag u :(

a/n #2: i've never had such a long taglist! thank you for giving my work so much love before i even posted it🥹

#steven grant x reader #moon knight x reader #steven grant fluff #moon knight fluff #platonic khonshu #khonshu x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #steven grant x witch!reader #steven grant x avenger!reader #marc spector x witch!reader #marc spector x avenger!reader #jake lockley x witch!reader #chaos in us #moon knight #moon boys

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delicrieux · 2 years

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ᴀ ɢ ɴ ᴏ ꜱ ᴛ ɪ ᴄ

pairing—eddie munson x fem!reader genre—comedy, romance, coming of age drama, angst warnings—swearing, drinking, smoking cast—y/n, dustin, eddie, mike, max word count—3.3k

—you know of him, and he knows of you, but neither of you know anything about each other. you’re on the cheer squad, little miss perfect queen supreme right after chrissy ‘lovely’ cunnigham and he is someone you never thought about…that is, until detention one year before graduating.

author’s note: part twooooo! sorry for the delay ive been busy. we got angst at the front and fluff at the back, party people!!! lets gooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo also this is written from eddie’s perspective bcs all of my fics must have a change in perspective or else i will die

masterlist. kofi. check out the summer features here! back to part one ♥ part 2.1

PART 2: TRUE BLUE HOW ARE YOU

If God is real then the only reason he put Eddie on Earth is to suffer. Ashes to ashes, he doesn’t even like David Bowie, but ashes to ashes, funk to funky, everyone knows Eddie Munson’s a junkie, strung out in heaven's high, hitting an all-time low.

He never believed in a higher power, and honestly, he thought that whole worship stuff is kinda cult-y – and not the cool cult-y, but like the weird, creepy cult-y – but this song plays on the radio as he sits in his truck and it’s gotta be a sign, it’s gotta. He’s willing to believe just about anything right now, especially after kissing you.

You, kissed you, you as in the cheerleader high school darling everyone adores, you as in pretty face and pretty smile that existed in his peripherals as nothing more than an impossible daydream. He never really thought about you, not in seriousness at least. Sure, there was the passing thought of what it would be like if he was nothing like himself or you were nothing like he thought you were. But it was an idea he seldom entertained, not wanting to deal with a consequence of an unrequired crush. He never had a chance with you to begin with. He’d rather save himself the hurt.

…What the fuck was he supposed to do now?

Maybe it was just a very realistic and intense hallucination. .

He’d believe that, no doubt. Only if he couldn’t still smell your lingering perfume when he closed his eyes.

This is a waking nightmare. He’s going insane. He knew one day it’ll happen, but now it’s happening for real.

As if school couldn’t get any worse, but seeing you pass by without even a glance in his direction feels like a stab in the chest. Either that or his stomach cramps up whenever you’re within his radius, or years of smoking are finally catching up to him. Whichever one it is, he has to fight the urge to throw himself in the opposite direction. He’s ashamed, and shame burns like acid and weighs him down like lead. Ashamed of what, exactly? That memory of you in the janitor’s closet, the small plight of hope he felt when you clung to him, how he ran away. He’s good at that, running away — has had plenty of practice. He wonders if that’s just how it’s gonna be his whole life, now: shamefully fleeing at the sight of danger.

And it is dangerous being involved with someone like you. You come with an added risk of a hard beating if he looks at you funny and slow acting poison that is the absolute psychological torture of you being so close yet so far. He hears your voice in the cafeteria; sees you rushing down corridors in your tiny cheerleader skirt; notices you smiling, a bit flustered, when you find flowers in your locker. He wasn’t the one to put them there. He wouldn’t dare. Fucking coward.

People started noticing. He’s distracted, distressed, more eccentric than usual. He’s trying so hard to appear normal (whatever it is that is normal to Eddie Munson), that he’s acting abnormal.

“Dude,” It’s Dustin, Eddie’s chickadee that he adopted into his little club of misfits. He breaks the brief silence hanging between them in the cafeteria, “are you okay?”

“What?” Eddie’s eyes promptly flee from your form at the other side of the room, “Yeah,” he blinks, rushed, “why?”

Dustin shrugs, “You just…been acting weird. Weirder than usual. And that says something, cuz you’re a fuckin’ nutcase, man.”

Eddie grins, and he wonders if they can tell that it’s shaky, that he’s nervous, that he thinks they’ll figure it out soon, and if they do, he’ll never be able to live it down, “Oh, I’ll show you weird, Henderson.” He’s about to do something stupid – jump on the table or scream or whatever his first instinct is, but you suddenly pass by hand in hand with Chrissy and take all of his resolve with you. His eyes pathetically follow after you, and so do the heads of the boys in Hell Fire.

A collective realisation washes over them like a cold wave.

Dustin gapes, “No fucking way.”

“Dude.” Mike utters, eyes wild, “Are you for real?”

“That’s fucked.” Dustin comments.

“What?” Eddie snaps, “What the fuck are you even talking about?”

“You,” Dustin points his fork at him, “and (Name).” The hand holding the utensil forms into a fist and he smacks it onto the table, “Fucked, I say.”

“Oh, c’mon!” Eddie whines, leaning into his seat and throwing his hand over the back of the chair, “She just…walked by and I looked. Sue me.”

“Oh yeah, that’s totally what happened. Sure as fuck you weren’t just checking her out when the basketball team is right there. You have a death wish or something?”

Maybe Dustin’s right. Maybe he does have a death wish. Only blissful oblivion would save him from this…this tightness in his chest, the shortness of breath, the sudden spike in anxiety whenever you’re around. The harsh slap of disappointment. He knows it can never be anything than what it is right now, he always knew, and still it’s a hard pill to swallow, still he chokes on it.

The questions continue and slowly transform into jeers. They think it’s funny, funny how you suddenly caught his eye, but they don’t know, they just don’t fucking know, man, that for a moment, a single instance, he had caught yours, too.

Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe you meant what you said that you make-out with anyone who’s just…there. Right time right place. If it was anyone else but him, would you still have done what you did? He’d like to think that no, you’re not like that. But as of now, as of this very moment, he doesn’t know what to think. He feels confused and maybe a bit used. Like a toy thrown out after it outlived its purpose. You had your weed and your kiss and an entertaining detention – isn’t that what he’s known for, entertaining? He got what he deserved, and you got what you wanted.

It’s an early fucking morning and he’s drunk and high and barely makes it back home into his trailer. The small steps upwards had never been so strangely placed, and if he was one shot deeper he could swear they were upside down. He’s back from whatever hole he crawled out of and in this state of numbing drunkenness and on the verge of passing out he thinks that, hey, life’s really not that bad, eh? Sure, he failed like the fucking loser he is and, and, get this – guess who wasn’t present during graduation? Bull’s-eye! This guy! Not like they had anything for him, anyway. Whatever. Who gives a shit? Third times the charm or whatever.

It’s always whatever, because if it’s even once not a whatever it’s suddenly holy shit I really am a fucking failure I really am just like my dad. Best not to think of that. He spits that thought out right into dirt beside his trailer. Who knows, maybe a flower will grow there.

Swings open the door, tumbles in, doesn’t bother locking it. He’s probably being loud but uncle sleeps like a log so it’s not like he’s gonna wake up and do anything – what would he even say if he did? Eddie’s not in a creative mood, so he refrains from commenting and instead stumbles to the sink. The tap is running and ringed fingers submerge under ice cold water. He splashes his face. Sighs. He feels hot and nauseous and vaguely curious what would happen if he let the sink fill and dipped his head in. Probably would wash out all of the shit from his system. His brain needs a good cleaning.

And so the baptism commences.

“Fuuuuuucckkkk this,” He hisses out, rivulet dripping from his hair, his chin; his eyes are fixated out the window and into the pale morning, “stop,” he mumbles, rubs his face, “fucking haunting me, for fuck’s sake.”

Not even in his drunken, delirious stupor can he escape you. The image of you will probably plague him long after you have moved away to California or wherever your heart desires; long after you’ve left Indiana and high school behind.

But here you are, and now that he gets a better look at you, you don’t really look how you usually do. No new fine clothes or fixed hairdo – just some t-shirt that’s way too big for you and shorts (jorts?) that should rest on the middle of your thighs but cover your knees.

But that’s not any of his clothes, so it can’t be a dream. He’s also pretty sure no one you hang around would give you a ‘Best dad!’ shirt to wear, unless, of course, you’re married. He doesn’t think that you are, pretty sure he would’ve heard that at school. God he hopes you’re not married. To some loser, especially.

Why is he thinking about this, again?

Right, you’re dressed incognito in Hawkins’ shittiest neighbourhood, just back from wherever the fuck with a pair of binoculars and a bag. Not suspicious at all.

He leans onto the sink, cusses under his breath when the water overflows and promptly turns it off. Closer and closer to the window and suddenly another player makes themselves known: a kid from a nearby trailer that moves here fairly recently. Ah, fuck, what was her name again? He can’t recall, but he sure as shit recognizes that sour facial expression and, yeah, that’s Billy’s sister.

He groans. Hits his head a few times on the glass. He’s too drunk and too tired to figure out what are you doing with Billy’s sister, but his mind hates him so he physically tries to get away from those thoughts. Staggers into his room and throws himself onto his bed. The mattress bounces a few times and the hinges squeak and he closes his eyes.

Billy was…terrible. To Eddie, especially. Liked to throw hands and nearly took Eddie’s eye out once. Maybe he just hated the fact that Munson had better hair.

But it makes sense, makes so much sense he’s honestly astounded that even half-lucid he’s still a genius. Billy was popular. You are popular. Billy probably tried making a move on you, and judging by the fact that you’re hanging out with his sister at five in the morning, it probably worked. He’d heard rumours, something about Hargrove having the hots for (Lastname), but he never really paid them any mind. God, Billy’s winning even beyond the grave. Fucking asshole.

No, wait, that was rude, Eddie takes that back, he doesn’t want to speak ill of the dead. Even if he doesn’t like Billy, he supposes he couldn’t have been that bad if you liked him. Then again, Eddie’s a loser and you made-out with him, so your judgement might be at least somewhat untrustworthy.

Who cares. Huzzah, an end to another bitter day. He’ll just fall asleep now and forget all about you and Billy and that shirt really doesn’t suit you – not that it looks bad, you don’t look bad in anything, but Eddie thinks he could find you a better shirt, one of his, of course, maybe the Black Sabbath one? It’s clean, so that’s a plus, and it would look too big on you, which is also a plus, and—

He hits his head a few times. Turns out he wasn’t lying when he said you’d be the death of him.

Another cool summer morning. The fog lingers behind his windows and dew collects on the glass. His uncle had been out for the night and so good boy Munson stayed up playing his electric guitar. Enthusiastic cords gradually died down into sombre melodies as tiredness seeped in. Eventually, his most beloved guitar was replaced with an acoustic one.

Summer had, so far, been the same as it always was – shooting the shit and trying not to think he has to repeat a year again. At least uncle wasn’t as disappointed as Eddie was, but then again, uncle seems to believe in him for reasons unknown. Hi faith is misplaced. Nothing good will amount from the youngest Munson and maybe…that’s okay.

It was automatic. He just looked outside as he was putting away his guitar and saw you. You, again, different shirt, but still with your bag and binoculars. Each time he stayed up to see the sunrise he’d see you, too. It felt oddly comforting, knowing that you lurked around here, almost like wishing him goodnight. It’s getting hopeless, he’s getting hopeless. But since school is out, and he tries not to frequent where he’s unwanted, this, here, in the city of trailers surrounded by woods and grass that hasn’t been cut in long time, is the only place he ever sees you anymore.

“Night.” He whispers, noting how you turn back and wave Max over. Maxine, he finally figured out her name. Even Maxine doesn’t look as disgruntled as she usually does, just a bit pale. But you have that effect on people. You just make those around you happy (or miserable, but he thinks he’s the exception). It’s good that you keep her company. He doesn’t see her talking with anyone these days.

It’s the end of August and he’s smoking outside his trailer. He isn’t exactly waiting for you to emerge from the trees like some sort of wraith but he’s not exactly blind to the fact that you’re here, either. He taps his foot, jitters with his hands, fiddles with his rings, takes in a few shaky fumes. He’s exhausted. Dishevelled, also, to put it mildly. School’s gonna start soon and so will the campaigns to get him off of the grounds. He always makes himself a joke before anyone else can. It’s wearing down on him. God, what a mess.

But here you are, donned in your ‘Best dad!’ and jorts, truly, it’s a sight for sore eyes. It doesn’t take you long to notice him and the casual step you had been walking in halts for a moment before continuing. Maxine is absent, it seems, and your eyes and he thinks school would be a bit more bearable if you just looked at him. Scratch that, life would.

He manages to give you an awkward smile and an even more awkward wave. You’ll probably ignore him – he would if he was in your shoes, his excommunication was completely warranted by the shit he pulled, but can you blame a guy for being nervous? It was instinct, and shitty one at that, he didn’t even consider that his escape would hurt you, didn’t think you’d care enough. Nah, who’s he kidding, he just thought about himself.

He nearly chokes when you approach him, and you’re wearing such a neutral expression that he can’t even begin to guess what you’re thinking, “Morning.” You say in a light, raspy voice, as if everything was completely, and always was, fine, “What are you doing up so early?” You inquire, and now he’s sure that he’s dreaming, because a hello and a what’s up is just too good to be true.

“I, uhhh,” He scratches his head, “just—just smoking. Couldn’t sleep.” He admits, flicks his cigarette. Ash lands in the dirt. Ashes to ashes, “What about you? Not your usual scene.”

You hum, “You’d be surprised.” You hold up your binoculars and smile a little, “Bird-watching.”

He whistles, “And here I thought you were out here up to something diabolical.”

“Didn’t say I wasn’t.” You counter, though not unkindly. Friendly, maybe even playful, just like the first time you met. Best detention he’d ever had, hands down, “I just, you know…” You look around as if an explanation would become evident once you do, “It’s peaceful here. No one’s up walking their dog or on an early morning jog, or...I dunno. I come here often. Haven’t seen you once, though.”

“I’m a busy man.”

“I’m sure you are.”

A brief silence lingers and he racks his head for something to say, but nothing really comes to mind. He wants to talk to you a bit longer, admire you a bit more, but the fact that you probably hate him and are only doing this out of politeness unnerves him. He extinguishes his cigarette, stands up and—you are shorter than him, that’s cute. You’re cute. He’d like to tell you that, but he’d probably fumble and bite his tongue or you’d kill him with your binoculars. Max would help you bury him in the backyard. He can see it already.

“Well—“

“—So—“

You both speak at the same time, squeeze out the same painful smile. He motions to you to take the floor, and you nod, “Well, I best be going now. Gotta sneak back in, and all. My parents don’t exactly know that I come here, and,” You look into his eyes and his heart skips a beat, “I’d really appreciate if no one knew about that.”

He lands a hand on his heart, “Your secret’s safe with me, (Name).”

It feels good saying your name again, like it’s meant to roll off of his tongue. It’s tasty, like your kiss.

You smile, “Thanks, Eddie.” But it’s even better hearing you say his. You tilt your head softly to the side, “We’re good, right?”

He sputters. So, wait, you don’t hate his guts? Is this some sort of joke? Will Jason jump out the bushes with a baseball bat and whack him on the head if he replies?

“No, it’s not a joke, and no, Jason isn’t here.”

Dear God, he actually said that aloud. He wonders if cardiac arrest is possible from embarrassment, or at least an aneurysm, because he would take anything at this point, “That’s, uhhh,” His hands land on his hips, “that’s—that’s good to know. And yeah, sure, of course we’re good, you don’t even—didn’t even need to say it.” He catches your gaze, “You’re always good in my book.”

“I mean you did kinda hurt my feelings but—“ You shrug, “uhmm—well, well it’s not really important now. Just, I just wanted to know if we’re good. ‘Cause I, like, met Robin the other day and all—we went shopping, Gosh, you should have seen the outfits she put me in—and, and I just, I guess I…Thought. About you. If you’re okay. And I wasn’t mad anymore, not really.” You laugh – it’s an airy, pleasant sound, “I mean, I wasn’t even mad at Andy for getting caught so it was stupid of me to be mad at you. So…” You hold out your hand, “Truce?”

It’s a silly question, “…Truce.” He shakes your hand. Small, warm. His shoulders relax. He doesn’t let go instantly but you aren’t quick to pull away either, “By the way, did Robin style you today as well?”

You shake your head with a laugh, “No, no, this I…I came up with myself. Best dad.”

“You’d make an awesome dad, (Name).”

“Thanks, I think so too.”

It passes by in a blur, you, here, talking, smiling, and then he’s one foot in his trailer and watching your retreating back. But you turn around and stop and his heart does, too, “And, Eddie?”

“Yeah?” He calls.

“Don’t be sad. About exams, I mean. It’s gonna be your year, I can feel it.”

He smiles. It feels like the first genuine one he’d had in a while. If you believe in him, than he has no more doubts.

’86 is gonna be his year.

hope you liked it xx

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie x reader #imagine #imagines #reader #xreader #reader insert #eddie munson x you #one shot #angst #fluff #agnostic

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raplinesmoon · 2 years

Text

An Age of Oddities (Jung Hoseok x F!Reader)

Part of Undisclosed Desires: An Anthology

pairing: nobleman!Hoseok x f!reader genre(s): fluff, smut, angst, drama, mystery, slight horror au(s): based on Don Juan by Lord Byron word count: 6k warnings: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, brief mentions of a robbery, Hoseok is a fuckboi with many conquests that he likes to delve into detail about, Hoseok lusting after married women, brief mentions of a duel society people being rude and snobby, a ghost story?, hunting is mentioned, brief religious mentions, Hoseok nearly takes someone out but... you’ll see. smut warnings: implied streaking, girls love giving Hoseok blowjobs, fondling, deep throating, floor riding (is that even a thing), ruined orgasm, oral (m and f receiving), gagging (with fingers), fingering, light exhibitionism, Dom!Hoseok, brief unprotected penetrative sex rating: 18+

summary: Jung Hoseok is a wealthy, raucous libertine who takes pride in his ability to be able to seduce any woman. Roaming through Europe, he stumbles upon conquest after conquest, his carefree and sensuous lifestyle capable of beguiling everyone he meets. Until he meets you.

a/n: Ahhhh it’s here. Hoseok had me working on demon time because the more and more I wrote of him, I couldn’t stop. His story is so so much fun to write, and I hope you can see the literary parallels between him and Don Juan, but also the creative twists! Special thank you to @yoon2k for helping me brainstorm the ending since the original work was left unfinished (love you Fi and I hope I did your mans justice). This is unedited for now!

Taglist: @miscelunaaa @shameless-army @firesighgirl @sunshinerainbowsbts @seokjinger-ale (sorry if I missed anyone!)

listen to the playlist!

Among the vibrant rays of the setting sun, pale specks of dust filtered through the air, carried away by the wind. Hoseok felt the grand urge to cough. London was such a grimy city. No sooner than when he had stepped off his carriage, he was accosted by some innocuous old chap, brandishing a rusted blade.

“Your money or your life.”

Where he came from, back in Andalusia, money was your life. A low chuckle escapes him upon remembering the statement, recalling how the robber had scurried away the moment he’d reached into his breast pocket, pulling out a few notes. So much for the virtues of the English.

He wonders if he’d been too hasty with his charity and if he should have instead implored the man to see reason, that harassing wealthy strangers on the street would get him nowhere. But the thought leaves his mind as soon as it enters. That wasn’t what he was here for anyway.

Straightening out the creases in his jacket, Hoseok walks to the end of the street, awe-struck by the row houses that seem to close in on him. For a brief moment, he misses the Spanish air, and his guilty mind flashes back briefly to a swell bosom and pretty tendrils of dark hair, causing his cock to stir in his pants. Sana.

The last letter he’d received expressed that she had no regrets for what happened between them. But that had been a long while back when he was still in the throes of his youth. He hoped the convent was treating her well, and that Don Taeyong hadn’t come back for more revenge. Streaking through his garden in the dead of night after he’d torn his garments to shreds had been more than enough embarrassment for Hoseok.

He pauses in front of the last row house, peering through the windows as the lively tunes from the ensemble float out the window and into the night. The Ohs spared no expense for his arrival in Britain it seemed, despite his insistence that he could meet Lord Sehun at the country estate.

A woman passes by him in the night, turning to look at the handsome, solitary figure standing outside the mansion block, honey-colored skin glowing brighter than the fleeting rays of the sun. Hoseok can feel her gaze burn into him from behind, and turns to her with a smirk. Her painted lips are parted slightly, eyes nothing but hollow pools of darkness. Checking his pocket watch, he realizes he’s egregiously late to the soirée. It seems there would be no fun to be had tonight. Giving her a wink, he turns back, heading inside.

The polished lilt of the music is overpowered by the frenetic din that erupts at the arrival of its guest of honor.

“There he is—”

“The libertine?”

“I heard he seduced an empress…”

Hoseok’s lips twist upwards at the last comment as he wades through the sea full of pearls, plumes, and silk. No seduction had been necessary on his part. Lisa had nearly fallen to her knees with one look at him, promoting him in rank and Hoseok, a wayward youth from who knows where, had suddenly grown into the man his mother had always wished he’d be. All those years of education: history, philosophy, religion, they’d all paid off in that moment. And they’d paid off behind closed doors too, as Hoseok remembered her pink, swollen lips and tear-streaked gaze when she choked on his cock.

Shaking his head, the fog of his time in Russia dissipates, and he cranes his neck, looking for the hosts that were awaiting his welcome.

“Don Jung!” A loud, boisterous voice bellows, and Hoseok turns to see a handsome, tall, stern-faced man approach, accompanied by a slender woman in elegant pink silk.

“Lord Oh Sehun, pleased to make your acquaintance,” the man offers his hand, his grip so tight Hoseok wonders if he’s engaged in a handshake or a wrestling match.

Lord Henry finally lets go, and Hoseok shakes out his hand, watching as the other man directs him to the lady by his side.

“My wife, Lady Yujin,” he gestures, no sooner than Hoseok had picked up the lady’s hand, greeting her with a soft kiss. A soft sigh escapes her throat, one that goes unnoticed by her husband, but rings loud in Hoseok’s ears.

“So pleased to meet you, Don Jung,” she remarks, her voice reeking of the polished sophistication he’d come to loathe from English society. Why couldn’t they just let loose and have a screaming match once in a while? The Russians had been far more entertaining.

“The night is yours to enjoy, our dear friend,” Lord Sehun claps him on the back, pushing Hoseok back into the crowd.

Hoseok strides through the mass of people, more graceful on his feet than the scores of people who line up to dance with each other. The whispers continue, women turning from their partners to gape at him, which then provokes the haughty, envious gazes of men. But Hoseok was used to people being jealous of him. It was an unfortunate reality he’d grown up with, men ready to draw the sword if Hoseok so much as gazed towards their wives. And so he’d learned to keep his head down, and let them come.

As he draws towards the fringe, pausing by the window, he hears a chorus of giggles from behind him. Immediately, a gaggle of women descends upon him, launching into a flurry of introductions.There’s a madam someone, followed by a lady something, and a duchess of anything.

“Have you any brothers?” an older dame asks, her sharp eyes trained on him, no doubt inquiring for a daughter in the crowd.

“Unfortunately, I’m an only child,” he counters, amused at the way her face immediately falls.

“Don Jung!” One of them squeals, her eyes growing wider. “We heard you speak many languages. Do tell us, what is the more romantic language? Russian or Castilian?”

Hoseok nearly scoffs at the inquiry. Surely these smart, well-educated women had to be joking with him? But no, their eyes were trained on his figure, breaths held in, awaiting a response.

“Well, uh, Castilian is what I’m more familiar with, but personally, I think it’s not about the beauty of the language, but more about the beauty of the speaker,” he winks.

“Will you sing to us in Spanish?”

“Show us how you dance?”

“What are your thoughts on Keats?”

He stumbles through their questions, all of his tutor’s lessons flitting in and out of his head at the moment. The confidence in his words, however, captivates their attention, sparing him the embarrassing admission that he cared little for their academic pursuits, much more focused on which one of them he’d lure to bed tonight.

Before he can make a move, however, Lady Yujin is upon them, swishing her skirts and shooing away the crowd.

“Don Jung must go now, ladies, I’m sure you’ll all have the chance to converse again,” she smiles, and there’s something pointed and sharp in her expression, despite the baby pink of her dress. “We leave for Norman Abbey and the countryside in the morn. There’s much to look forward to there.”

The countryside air appealed to Hoseok much more than the stuffiness of the city. Norman Abbey was beautiful, its tall, formidable structure reminding Hoseok of the cathedral in Seville, and he suddenly felt himself longing for home. Wondering how his mother was, he remarks that he hasn’t heard from her in a while. Would she be proud of the man he’d managed to become? Wealthy, smart, educated, who traveled and indulged across the entire continent, with stories from every city.

Shaking his head, he lets out a low laugh. She’d probably nag him about why he wasn’t married yet, despite his thirtieth year of life soon approaching. Sighing, he clasps his hands behind his back, pausing to marvel at the view.

A small lake lay in front of the abbey, its crystalline waters sparkling against the sunlight, from which numerous species of wildfowl drank. His eyes followed the stream that fed the lake, the soft ripples against the water’s surface creating a soothing, babbling song, as it gurgled towards the woods, disappearing between the trees.

From behind, the house stood proud, the grand Gothic arches swooping and giving ways to alcoves that hid statues of devotional figures that Hoseok had lost all care for long ago. Society and life itself was governed by the hidden natures of men, and those natures, where they were concerned, always revolved around two things. Sex, and money.

More curious were the hallowed halls of the manor, long and winding, the stained-glass windows coloring everything in an eerie light. From a simple walk through, Hoseok marveled at the Oh’s impressive collection of art, recognizing a few works that he’d seen while touring through Italy. Stranger yet, were the various statues and suits of armor that decorated the never-ending corridors. Their presence gave Hoseok chills, for he feared their eyes would come alive at night, roaming the halls, looking for souls to torment.

Well, it was a mighty fine matter that Hoseok stayed locked in his room at night. Now, if only he could find a companion to accompany him to bed, and soon, the ghosts would be all but forgotten…

More peculiar than the abbey itself were its owners. Lord and Lady Oh were unlike any other couple he’d ever come across, so straight-laced and sophisticated, yet also mysterious.

Lord Sehun was easy enough to figure out. Politics was the man’s entire game, as he always paused to clap Hoseok on the back annoyingly and rant about the latest goings-on in the House of Lords. He always spoke loudly and proudly of his various friends in politics, but to Hoseok they seemed more like hidden pawns in Sehun’s game.

Nevertheless, he’d struck up a friendship with him, Sehun showing an interest in Hoseok’s travels, using his experience as an envoy to draw up various memos and scrolls detailing Anglo-Russian relations, having Hoseok read and comment upon each and every word. The sessions left him bored, wanting for more. His only form of entertainment would be Lady Yujin stopping in to drop off some tea, laughing and conversing with him, drawn in by the warmth he exuded.

Speaking of the lady herself, Hoseok was fascinated by her. Yujin moved so politely and gracefully through society, a queen bee in her own right. She was loved by all, beautiful, wealthy, reminding Hoseok much of himself. Yet, he saw the sharp political mind that lurked underneath the surface, far more impressive than her husband’s. Yujin was in the business of building relationships and tearing them down just as quickly. Anglo-Russian relations could learn a thing or two from her shrewdness.

He’d long been contemplating beginning an affair with her, the depraved ache in his loins growing at every swish of her skirt when he watched her pert ass leave the room. He’d seen the passionate soul that brewed underneath her prim demeanor, and he yearned to rip through the shreds of her disguise and expose the debauchery. He couldn’t be the only one longing for some scandalous action in the household. Yujin herself was restless in her “pursuit” of him, always asking Hoseok if he had any future plans to marry, suggesting that she knew many “impressive young women” that would catch his eye. When in reality, all she wanted was to control him, another piece on the chessboard underneath her slim fingers. And if there was one thing Hoseok hated, it was being at the mercy of anyone. His spirit was too restless to spend his life’s pursuits in matchmaking and dilly-dallying.

Excusing himself, he retires to his room, determined to catch some rest before their dinner party tonight. For Hoseok, the affair would be fruitless, yet another tarnished reputation under his belt, leaving him with a brief ephemeral gratification that never seemed to linger. Besides, the Ohs were an imposing duo – all of London society was at their beck and call. He was sure they’d sink their claws into him, draining all of the fun from his hedonistic pursuits the moment it began to impact them negatively. Brushing away his thoughts, his eyes flutter shut. But his sleep was a restless one, for Hoseok could not shake the feeling that he was being watched somehow.

The notice had gone out in that morning’s Post that the Ohs were to host another soirée to celebrate the receipt of their new guest at their countryside estate.

And so, nearly thirty-three of London’s elite descended upon the Abbey, clad in their Sunday best. A coterie of nobles, much like the Ohs in disposition, composed of various dukes, and lords, and duchesses, clad in the finest velvet and silks, the gold filigree on their garments subtly hinting at the expanse of their wealth.

And yet, there were characters within. A swordsman, prone to showing off tricks and stunts with the blade that rested at his hip, an orator who spared no occasion to launch into an impassioned speech about the state of the country, twin lawyers who looked so identical it was uncanny, but whose demeanors could not have been far more different.

Lady Yujin had spared no expense when it came to the feast, the table full to the brim with various delicacies that when combined, created a fragrance so divine, Hoseok could have sworn he was in the land of milk and honey.

But, he’d been put in a rather precarious position you see. Seated at the table, a predicament had begun to brew. For on either side of his, he had the most riveting company. On the one, there was the voluptuous Duchess Hye-jin. One look into her sultry eyes, and lower still, and he knew she’d had enough trysts and love affairs to rival himself. When he turned and asked about how she and her husband were doing, her eyes blazed, whether with anger or with lust, he could not have known.

“We stay happy and out of each other’s way,” she said, voice sickly sweet as she batted her eyelashes, and he could have sworn he heard Lord Juyeon cough from across the table.

On his other end, a subtle character, but one that doesn’t pose any less intrigue.

“This is Lady ____,” Yujin had introduced him when he came to take his seat, declining the hunt with the men for favor of spending his time around women, whose conversations he found far more interesting.

Duchess Hye-jin you were not. Where she was loud and brash, evidently obvious in her opulence, you were more reserved. Simple was a word that came to mind when he first dared to characterize your demeanor, but he brushed it off, considering it far too limiting for your appeal.

As he turned to introduce himself, an upturned smirk on his face, he was taken aback. For your eyes were wide and you were looking at him. Not in the conventional sense one looks at an object right in front of them, but really looking at him. Those glassy eyes bore into his soul, and he felt unsettled by the flash of sadness he saw lurking in their depths.

“Are you liking England?” you asked him, your voice sweet and musical, like the song of the nightingales that had begun to croon come the sunset.

And he stops, heart threatening to beat out of his chest. No one had ever asked him how he liked it here. Of course, they’d been interested in him, in his travels, in his talents. But never his well-being.

“It’s nice, of course,” Hoseok’s voice wavers. “Lord and Lady Oh have been nothing but welcoming. But I miss home sometimes. The sun shone so much brighter over there. Or maybe I’m just getting older and prefer to spend my time indoors.”

You laugh quietly at that, and he’s once again amazed at how different it is from the bubbly giggles he’s normally used to.

Leaning in towards you, he feels you shrink from his intense gaze, breath hitching in your throat. Now he feels more at home.

“I heard Lord and Lady Oh have quite the impressive collection of books in the library? What do you say we go take a look?” he whispers in your ear, voice dropping low.

From the other end of the table, he can feel Yujin’s eyes on the back of his head, knowing her pretty face is probably flushed with anger and jealousy. But Hoseok was sincere. He wanted to spend time with you. You’d caught his eye, with your lack of embellishment and austerity. It was so… refreshing.

“We’d better not,” you respond quietly, eyes flitting to the other side of the table, and he feels his heart drop. “It would be disrespectful to Lady Yujin.”

Soon enough, you’re swept into a conversation with your seatmate on the other side, and Hoseok stews in jealousy, with not even a wink from Duchess Hye-jin able to quell the strange feelings that have risen up within him.

The bright morning light sears into Hoseok’s pupils, causing him to nearly stumble out of bed. For a moment, behind his closed eyes, he’d seen a lovely face peering into his own, and wondered if you’d come up to check on him after last night’s festivities, where he’d gotten a little too drunk and flirted up a storm with Duchess Hye-jin.

However, he soon realizes it was all a dream, populated by a figure he hadn’t thought of in a long while. Yeji. For a moment, he remembers the salt in the sea breeze and the warmth of the sun on the island, and lets out a deep sigh. It had been the closest to love he’d ever felt with another woman. There had been nothing tying them together, the two of them hadn’t even spoken the same language. They were driven only by passion. But overtime, he’d grown to care for the girl, until he found himself captured and shipped out to sea by pirates, Yeji lost to him forever.

Her innocence and childlike curiosity reminded him so much of you. Both of you had the same, optimistic outlook on human nature. But where Yeji had been the bright, tall flames of a bonfire, you were the quiet flicker of a candle. Both capable of inducing warmth, but in very different ways.

He dresses quickly, hair mussed as he pads down the staircase to where breakfast was being served. Much to his surprise, many of the guests had stayed the night, including Duchess Hye-jin. Probably for the hunt that was occurring later today. His heart skips a beat when he realizes you’re among them.

At the breakfast table, you smile and nod along with the conversation that’s occurring, and Hoseok feels sad when he realizes no one is including you much. He longs to make you laugh like he had last night, where your teeth had poked out in an adorable, albeit not very ladylike fashion.

“Don Jung,” a sultry voice echoes from behind. Hye-Jin. “Will you not show us your talents during the hunt at least? Your presence has been very missed on the dance floor at all of these events.”

“You haven’t even seen the half of my talents,” he counters with a wink, as your curious eyes watch him from the other end of the table.

“Very well,” the duchess responds. “We shall see then.”

The chorus of ooohs and ahhhs that follows during the hunt is not unknown to Hoseok. Throughout his life, he’d gained the reputation of being the most admirable company. He supposed it was the happy, jolly air he put on, always ready to entertain at a moment’s notice.

After one too many pats on the back, he decides to escape the suffocating crowd, venturing over to the stream, where he sees the swish of blue by the water’s edge.

“You’ll dirty your dress if you fall in,” he says, causing you to jump up in surprise. “We wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

“Don Jung,” your voice is shaky eyes flitting to and fro. “I am sorry, I did not see you approaching.”

“Do I scare you?” he asks sincerely, curious as to why you shrink away, so unlike any other person he’d met. Normally, Hoseok was the center of attention, always dialing up his charm to win the hearts of all.

“No! Uh, of course not,” you respond quickly. “Why aren’t you over there with the others?”

“Because I want to be here, where the air is clear and the water is clearer, in the presence of a most beautiful lady.”

You smile politely at the compliment, eyes turning to the smooth pebbles that line the stream’s bed, picking one up and offering it to him.

The two of you skip stones for a long while, silent but drinking in the presence of each other’s company. Your aloofness is quite becoming, Hoseok discerns, lost only in trying to get the stone across the water in as many skips as you can. For a brief moment, terror strikes in his heart. Were you really not attracted to him at all? A strange pain rises up in his chest, almost like he can feel his stomach free falling in air.

“Thank you for the company, Don Jung,” you wipe your palms on your dress, turning on your heels. “I should be getting back now.”

“Hoseok,” he interrupts your leave. “Call me Hoseok.”

He offers his arm out to you, and is pleasantly surprised when you take it, twin smiles lighting up both your faces.

“Okay then, Hoseok.”

“Don Jung,” Lady Yujin calls out to him, and something in her tone seems forced, and hurried, like there’s an urgent matter she needs to attend to, or she’ll explode.

The guests had finally left, promising to return again soon, and Hoseok found himself alone in the Ohs’ presence once more. While before, their company had been more than enough, Hoseok finds himself missing the varied crowd, all of them invoking his interests in different ways. Especially you.

Just a few days ago, he’d found himself in the library, perusing over one of the many books he’d found amongst Lord Sehun’s collection The book had captivated him, but sooner rather than later, he’d found himself dozing off, forlorn that he had no one to talk to about it. When he awoke, he felt the strangest chill in his bones. Almost like there was someone in the library with him. The feeling dissipated mere moments later, and all was well. Perhaps he was just missing your company.

He shoves all thoughts aside as he bursts through the door to the drawing room, panting and in a sweat. From across the room, Lady Yujin is perched on the couch, sipping tea from a dainty cup.

“Come sit,” she says sweetly. But it sounds fake.

“What is the matter?” Hoseok demands, chest caving in on itself from anxiety. “Has something horrible happened?”

“Not at all,” she pats his shoulder as he sits, her smile dropping when he scowls at her touch.

“I was thinking, dear friend,” she begins, and a sense of dread creeps into Hoseok’s veins. “Are you not in want of a wife at your age?”

“What are you implying?” Hoseok’s eyes narrow at the thinly veiled statement.

“No implications are being made,” she cuts him off with a purr. “Of course you have many fine qualities that any woman would be in need of. You are accomplished, confident, sincere, and loved by so many. Surely you must have thought of settling down before.”

“Not particularly,” Hoseok muses, training his eyes on something, anything, but the expression on her face. “Is there a reason you’re suggesting I should?”

“My dear, most special friend, there are rumours afoot,” she whispers, and Hoseok is caught off guard by her confession. “I know you seem aloof and are kind-hearted, but people whisper about you, and I worry for your soul. How sad would it be to be condemned merely by the thoughts of others?”

“C-condemned?” Hoseok roars, veins in his neck throbbing. “What is this madness you speak of?”

“Calm yourself,” she grabs him and urges him to sit back down. “I know many suitable women, who would make a fine match. There is Miss Lee, Lady Park, the last I heard, Mr. Jeon had a younger sister. All these women are of an even and polite temperament.’

“It’d almost be like being married to me,” she jokes, but the quip is lost on Hoseok. “I spoke with Lord Sehun, and he agrees it would be a fine endeavor to pursue.”

“What about Lady ___?” Hoseok asks, and Yujin’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“____? Oh dear, that poor thing? She’s dreadfully plain and boring, don’t you think? She’s never interested in our gatherings.”

“To the contrary, I find her quite invigorating,” Hoseok argues smugly, seeing the vein at Yujin’s temple throb. Her game isn’t lost on him. But years of falling fancy to the whims of women have taught him to live boldly, yet guard his heart. For the longest time, he’d never found another that made his hallowed organ come to life in such a strong manner.

“I hope you do consider my proposal, and have some tea, please” she rises, leaving him in the room. Hoseok brings the cup to his lips, bitterly disappointed to find that it has run cold.

The night that followed after his argument with Lady Yujin was a restless one. His head hit the pillow, but his eyes remained wide awake, plagued with thoughts of you. He hates how quick Yujin had been to shut down the prospect of a match, but perhaps the two of you needed more time to get to know one another.

He sighs, eyes fluttering shut. But they fail to carry him to the land of dreams. Outside his window, a gust howls, rattling the shutters and swooshing through the branches of the willow tree in the courtyard below. Paralyzed with fright, the faint light of his candle flickers out, causing Hoseok to jump up out of his bed. He throws the doors to the room open, scanning the halls for any sign of danger. The statues in the hall haunt them, their grotesque shadows creeping up onto the wall in the moonlight, and for a brief moment his heart stops, thinking he hears a suit of armor rattling in the distance.

Chastising himself, he mutters a silent prayer for the first time in many years, when suddenly, something flits across his field of vision. Thinking it a mouse, he freezes, blood turning cold when he sees the hooded figure of a monk in the silvery moonbeams. As the figure passed, it paid Hoseok no mind. He knows not how long he stood there, breathing labored and hair standing on end, waiting for the figure to rush back and claim his soul. But it never returned.

“A monk?” Sehun asks, taking in Hoseok’s pale, distraught figure. “There hasn’t been a monk at the Abbey for years. Are you sure, friend?”

Hoseok doesn’t know what to say, still frozen from the shock of what had occurred last night. Lady Yujin is glaring at him with a disapproving look, and Duchess Hye-Jin’s lips are curled in a snide smirk.

“It’s nothing of course,” Lady Yujin assures the guests. “Like Lord Sehun said, there have been no monks at the abbey for years. It was probably just a bad dream.”

Hoseok feels betrayed. For all of Yujin’s shrewdness, he had at least believed she would stand by him as a friend. But it seems hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

“Are you okay, Hoseok?” You whisper to him. “Whatever happened last night, you look like you had quite a fright.”

“I’ll be fine,” he says, not wanting to worry you, although he’s touched by the care you seem to show him.

“Still, why don’t we go for a walk in the woods later? I’m sure the sunlight will help calm your nerves.”

A smile makes it way onto your face, and for the first moment ever, Hoseok catches the hint of a flush on your cheeks. He doesn’t know what you mean by the proposition, but he’ll take the chance if it means spending time with you all the same.

Returning from his walk with you, the sun has begun to set, and Hoseok wonders how he could ever enjoy the company of one woman so much. Surely, he’d have continued to spend his life being seduced by women he could never have. Such was his nature, and nature was a fickle beast to contend with. It neither bent nor broke for just anyone. However, you, it seems, had reawakened the hardened feelings he thought he’d buried long ago.

Smiling to himself as he locks the door, he muses about how much you’d like the sun in Spain. You loved spending time outdoors. His mother would be happy with a daughter as lovely as you, there was no doubt.

Sitting on his bed, he disrobes, ready to retire for the night, when he hears a click. The door turns, and opens. There enters the spectral figure he’d seen the night before, except now the blasted creature was in his room.

Hoseok’s heartbeat pounds in his ears, the figure approaching him, drawing closer and closer every second. In a flash, he sees you behind his eyes, and anger fills his veins. No, this ghost would not take away his only chance at happiness.

He rises, charging towards the hooded figure, slamming it against the wall. Shock overcomes him, as his palm meets the soft flesh of a chest, and warm sweet breath tickles his ear. Freezing Hoseok pauses, eyes scanning the ghost. He catches the gleam of painted red lips under the hood, and a slender hand meets his own, urging him to squeeze the softness of what he now realizes is a woman’s breast in his hand.

Pushing the hood back, he’s met with the face of Duchess Hye-jin.

“I’ve got you now,” she croons in his ear. “Poor Don Jung, stuck in this lonely house, under the steel grip of that horrid Yujin.”

Her lips ghost his own, and Hoseok feels his cock throb underneath his pants. She presses hurried, frenzied kisses to his neck, dropping to her knees as she fishes him out from his briefs.

Pressing a kiss to his tip, her warm, wet lips engulf his heat, and Hoseok’s eyes flutter shut. How long had it been since he’d lost himself to pleasure like this? There had been too many days of indulging in the torment of societal pressures and expectations, not to mention his hidden feelings. He’d longed for blazing warmth, but in a different way.

The lewd sounds from her sucking reverberate throughout the room, accompanied by Hoseok’s grunts and her soft moans. He realizes that she’s begun rutting onto the floor, arousal leaking from her cunt and pooling into a warm wet puddle below, and feels himself grow harder in his pants.

“Be mine,” she chokes onto his dick, tears blurring her eyes. “Be mine, and you’ll never be in want of another again. I can take care of you in all the ways Yujin couldn’t.”

Hoseok feels his impending orgasm deflate at her words, suddenly overcome with shock and guilt. What was he doing? Moments ago, he’d been on the brink of passing out from fright, thinking that his judgement day had finally come. And now, he was letting the Duchess touch him all over, lost to his baser desires, while his heart belonged to another?

No, Hoseok would not submit this time. He was tired of being used by others for pleasure, of being the proverbial notch on someone’s bedpost. He longed for a life free of sin, and full of love, with the one person he desired the most.

Gently tapping the Duchess’ shoulder, he pushes her off his cock, watching her eyes widen in surprise.

“Go,” he says coldly. “My heart is not yours to take. If you breathe a word of this to anyone, I’ll tell your husband of all your trysts faster than you can count to five.”

Whimpering, her eyes spill over with tears, as she scampers from the room. Sighing, Hoseok collapses on his bed, when suddenly, he jolts forward, looking at one of the many trinkets Lady Yujin stored on his beside table.

Picking up the delicate glass figurine, he throws it against the wall, collapsing into a series of sobs.

“What do you mean you’re leaving?” Yujin seethes at him, nearly bursting from Sehun’s grasp to fall to her knees in front of Hoseok.

“It is time for me to move forward,” Hoseok replies. “There are many more places around Europe I’d like to see, many things to discover. London no longer holds any charm for me.”

“Any charm at all?” she admonishes him, the answer to her question clear from Hoseok’s silence. But he would never admit it to her. He was too proud.

“Fine,” she relinquishes him with a sigh. “Be it as you wish.”

As his bags are loaded into the carriage, Hoseok hears the frantic clacking of shoes against the gravel, and the heavy breaths of someone running towards him.

Turning towards the noise, he sees you, cheeks flushed and hair askew, panting as though you’d run a marathon.

“You’re leaving,” the words come out in a near sob. “You didn’t tell me.”

“I apologize for the abruptness of my leave,” he reassures you. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“You did not worry me,” you breathe out. “It’s just, I will miss you, Hoseok.”

“Pity,” Hoseok smirks, winking at you. “I hope you’d accompany me. As my wife, of course.”

Your face is blanched in shock, mirroring his from the previous night, but warms instantly as he leans to capture your lips in a passionate kiss.

From behind, he can feel Yujin’s eyes on him, and Sehun’s jaw drop in shock, but he doesn’t care. The reinvention of Jung Hoseok had only just begun…

“Oh my god, Hoseok, yes, yes, right there!” you scream, his fingers pushing themselves into your mouth to silence your bratty moans as he continues to tongue at your cunt. Your walls clench around him, unaware of what has come over your usually reserved demeanor.

Your husband had brought out a fervor within you. The two of you had been married for mere hours, impulsively stopping at a parsonage on your way out of the country to make it official. He’d been so excited to take you home with him, gushing about meeting his mother and how much you’d love the warm, balmy climate of Andalusia.

But before any progress could be achieved towards your goal, he’d snuck his fingers up your dress in the carriage, his lips sealed over yours to silence your moans. His skilled digits had you falling over the brink for the very first time in your life, flushed and panting heavily. He’d given you no time to recuperate and wallow in bliss, immediately shoving his cock down your throat. You’d gagged on him gleefully, loving the bitter tang of his seed down your throat.

And now you found yourselves here, stopped at an inn for the night, impulsively consummating your marriage. The movements of his tongue stop, and tears fill your eyes when you feel your orgasm ebb away, small sobs leaving your utterly wrecked body.

“Quiet, brat,” he commands. “Don’t be greedy, I’d rather have you falling apart on my cock anyway.”

You close your eyes, nodding, waiting for the sensation of him to fill you up. But it never comes.

For the moment Hoseok had prepared to sheathe himself inside you fully, he’s stopped by the sudden appearance of something behind your shoulder. Looking up, he freezes. The same spectral being that had haunted him at the Oh’s estate, now here in its ghostly flesh.

The ghost’s appearance could not even be written off as a joke in jest, for Hoseok saw the malevolent red gleam in its eyes, and immediately dropped dead of fright.

fin.

A/N pt. 2: Thanks for reading! As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

261 notes · View notes

formidxble · 3 years

Text

𝒎𝒚 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: fixing ties is a part of your job, so why is your boss acting like it isn’t?

𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 “𝒎𝒚 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆” 𝒃𝒚 2𝑷𝑴 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒄 𝒗𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒐

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: bang chan x fem!reader

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 13k

𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: smut, fluff, slight angst, and established relationship || ceo!bang chan x secretary!reader

𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: romantic sex, dirty talk, (some) possessiveness, marking, oral (female receiving), praising, “sir” kink (? 👀), (some) begging, unprotected sex (remember to always stay safe!!!), creampie

a/n: this is a gift to all you who submitted ceo bang chan asks and to everyone who followed me! thank you so much for 500 followers. i’m a bit late, but thank you! <3 thank you all so much!

little update (061921): three steps back has been posted!! this is a prequel to this fic, but you don’t have to read it in order to understand this one!!

three steps backˏˋ°•*⁀➷masterlist

taglist: @meow-minho @bxngchxn @dreamwrld @my-blueprint-haven @bobateastay @hyunsluvv @etherealeeknow @solistired @popisdead @arohabangtan @imagineinnie @happy-at-home @anna1126 @lattechans @yjunrecords @http-hyxnjxn @minaamhh @violethhj @changlix-mp4 @instachans @qtieskz @itsapapisongo @jisungcherry @healinghyunjin @asweeetdisposition @poutypoutybin @vogueinnie @fizzydrink698 @minniehohos

huge shoutout to @/popisdead for giving me an idea to put in the smut! you know what it is when you read it, l! 😌❤️

please don’t interact with this post if you are under the age of 18!

here we go again.

being the bang chan’s secretary meant that you had to accompany him to every event that required a plus one— public events, soirees, sales pitches, all the like. for the longest time, people have linked you to him and that wherever he went, you were expected to be there. it was almost like clockwork and here you were, beside him again, as he talked to mister seo changbin, the company’s vice chairman and chan’s right hand man. you relax your shoulders slightly.

don’t get it wrong, you loved being with chan and getting to see all the wonderful event venues around the country. people in chan’s level and caliber always threw the grandest of parties and though it was tiring just following your boss around, it was still better than staying at home and fixing chan’s schedule for the week. you also get to meet other high profile names in the industry and the company’s investors, most of which are also in the party tonight.

the party was thrown by the company to celebrate another successful sale made by none other than bang christopher chan. everyone who’s here is here to celebrate chan’s leadership and his success as the company’s youngest CEO. and, not to mention, as changbin lovingly put it just now, “his cockiness”. you giggle beside chan, smiling sheepishly when he gives you a playful glare.

when chang— mr. seo excuses himself to go grab another drink from one of the waiters roaming the hall, chan turns to you with a soft smile, his eyes content. “enjoying?” he asks as he gently swirls the wine glass in his hand.

“trying to,” you tease. you stand up straighter beside him, aware that people have eyes on you. it was one of the complaints you had about being next to chan. he was the center of attention everywhere and because you were beside him always, people tended to stare after they give chan a bow or even if they were gazing from afar. you always had to look presentable and though it came with the job, it gets tiring after a while. chan raises an eyebrow.

“what’s wrong?”

“nothing,” you smile. “just a little uncomfortable. that’s all.”

chan hums as he blinks. he surveys the hall before nodding. “if you want, you can go talk to some of the people here.”

chan barely allowed you to leave his side during public events. since you became a staple of his public appearances, seeing him alone always rose some eyebrows. so, why was tonight any different? you scrunch your eyebrows, swallowing as you tilt your head. the side of chan’s lip quirks up as his eyebrows mimic yours. it takes a second for chan to realize why.

“don’t worry about me,” chan laughs. “it’s a company event, so, i guess i can let you go for a bit.”

you look around the hall, frowning to yourself when you don’t spot any familiar faces. how were you supposed to interact with the businessmen in this party and wouldn’t it be weird if you just slid in the conversation? chan senses your hesitation, sucking his lips in as he gazes at the area.

“there’s, um,” chan moves in closer, tilting his glass toward the direction of a small group, “hwang hyunjin. do you remember him?”

of course, you do. chan sent you to the man’s office to confirm a sale a few months ago. you tripped in front of his desk and he only stared at you when you dusted yourself off. it wasn’t the most embarrassing moment in your life, but it was up there on the list. you huff softly.

chan hums once more as he glances at you. “you can talk to him or“—he tilts his glass to another group— “to the people in the office.” he takes a quick sip of his wine before grinning. “get the latest office gossip, like who’s dating who, you know? just all that fun stuff that i don’t get to know.”

office gossip? chan’s asking for juicy office gossip? you can’t blame him. out of all the people in the office, chan’s not the go-to person to talk about office drama. part of you feels bad, but then again, why would he care about one of the interns getting dumped if he’s too busy making sure the company doesn’t go under?

you fight the urge to giggle as you nod. chan catches the smile on your lips and he shakes his head, a soft ‘tsk’ leaving his lips.

“go on,” chan shoos playfully. “go socialize.” you give him a quick bow and before you could say anything else, mr. seo comes back, a full wine glass in his hand once more.

you step aside to look at the two groups chan pointed out. you could play it safe and go to the group you see around the office or you could shoot yourself in the foot and go to the group of millionaires.

you look behind as you feel chan’s eyes on you. once your eyes meet, he raises an eyebrow as he takes a sip of his wine. maybe you could impress him by going to the other group. the thought makes you turn away from him, feet moving in the direction of hwang hyunjin’s group.

you realize that this was a bad idea the moment the blonde-haired man spots you walking towards them. he raises his glass to greet you, head tilted to the side in curiosity and amusement. when you get nearer, the chatter in the group dies down and your mouth grows dry. their stare burns your skin and you can’t help but feel out of place.

“miss y/l/n,” hyunjin calls out, opening his arm out to invite you in the circle. “what brings you to our humble group?”

humble is not a word in this group’s vocabulary, that’s for sure. you smile at them as you inhale through your nose. this is a chance to mingle with the country’s richest and though you were nervous, it wouldn’t hurt to make a good impression, right? transactions in the future should be easier if you play your cards right. so, you part your lips and hum, “mr. bang wanted to get insider information and sent me over.”

the group laughs, almost rhythmically, like it’s been practiced before. nevertheless, the air grows lighter and beside you, hyunjin cracks a smile.

“that bastard. always one step ahead of us,” one of the men laughs. the other men join in and the conversation picks up where it left off— something about the trends in the market. not the most interesting of conversations, but you were already here. hyunjin keeps his eyes on you and he leans over to your side.

“thank goodness you didn’t trip this time around.” your cheeks flush red and you laugh the statement off as you shake your head. “i thought i’d have to relive it all over again.”

“it must have been a nightmare, mr. hwang,” you play along softly. hyunjin hums.

“a nightmare for you, a comedy for me.”

if this was bang chan, you would have shamelessly smacked him. the thought makes you realize how easy-going everything is when it came to your work relationship with chan. after all, the two of you have been working together for almost a decade. during that time, you’ve gotten to know chan in ways his right-hand man hasn’t and he’s gotten to know you in ways previous employers haven’t. the line between work and friendship has been blurred for a long time now, but none of you have complained.

“i’m happy my pain provided entertainment, mr. hwang,” you tease. hyunjin chuckles before finishing his glass of wine. behind you, you feel a set of eyes travel down your back. you ignore the feeling.

despite your lingering thoughts of chan, you couldn’t help but admire the man beside you. just like your boss, hwang hyunjin is one of the younger CEOs in the industry. he was younger than chan, but definitely carried himself in a manner that exuded superiority and grace, like he was on par with the men he’s standing with.

it seems to be the case because one of the businessmen in the group calls his attention, bringing him back to the conversation he was part of earlier. you frown when you see how loose his tie is around his neck.

someone’s secretary isn’t good with ties.

“not a good look,” you remember chan saying. like second nature, you reach over to grab hyunjin’s shoulder, gently turning him to face you. your hands find their way to the man’s tie, sliding the knot up to tighten it. when you look up, hyunjin’s eyes are on you and so are the eyes of the men around you.

the group grows silent and both of your breaths hitch. you’re frozen in your spot, blinking as you see hyunjin’s cheeks turn bright red. his eyes scan your face, panicked and confused. your hands on his tie start to shake and as you’re about to apologize, you feel a hand land on your lower back.

“i’m afraid i’d have to steal her for a bit, hyunjin,” you hear behind you. you bite your lower lip as you lean away from hyunjin, settling into the familiar hand. it takes a second for the blonde-haired man to recover, but he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck as he forces a smile.

“go ahead,” hyunjin chuckles shakily. “i’m not about to steal your secretary from you.”

“i’d like to see you try,” chan laughs and as if on cue, the others laugh with him. you give hyunjin an apologetic look when your eyes meet and he responds with a quick bow of his head like it was his fault. you put on your best fake laugh, your heart beating in your ears.

once the men stop laughing, the jokes thrown out earlier dissipate into thin air. and as much as you’d like to believe that these men were all friends, you were knowledgeable enough about the industry to say that this was all for show— the bows, the greetings, the jokes, the laughs, them coming to the party to “celebrate” chan’s success, all of it.

hyunjin’s the first to speak again, moving away from you and chan to close the circle and get away from the awkwardness that has formed between the three of you.

you feel chan remove his hand from your lower back and he uses it to grab your hand. “let’s dance.” chan whispers in your ear. you wet your lip as he leads you to the dance floor and the crowd parts to make way for the man of the hour and his plus one.

chan has always made you feel like you were the only woman in the room and he does it again tonight when he circles around you, his hand not letting go and his eyes never leaving yours. chan grins as he closes the gap between you and you hear your own breath stop. your eyes trail down to his lips when he wraps an arm around your waist.

your heartbeat rings in your ear once more when you and chan start swaying in time with the music. “i thought you didn’t want to dance tonight,” you whisper.

“it doesn’t hurt to have a little fun, you know.”

you rest your forehead on his shoulder as you scoff internally. bang chan, the man whose head is always filled with work, even during events like this, now wants to have fun and dance with his secretary?

you could laugh, but instead you let him lead you on the dance floor. you and he have never done this and you wonder if he feels as nervous as you are. but knowing him, he would never show it, at least not right now.

as the both of you settle in the feeling of each other’s warmth, he mumbles, “you feel it too?”

you shiver as you lean back from his shoulder. you wanted to ask what he meant. was he referring to the way your heart skips a beat when you catch him staring from his office window or when he throws you a soft smile when he walks by your desk? or was he talking about the way his hand lingers for way too long when you give him his coffee or the way his hand subtly reaches out for yours when it’s close to his?

you weren’t stupid. of course, you’ve felt it. everyone in the office has, except for bang chan himself.

maybe it’s not insanity after all. your colleagues aren’t talking out of their asses and there’s a chance, no matter how small it is, that bang chan felt it too. whatever it may be.

chan clicks his tongue when you don’t answer, his eyes scanning your face as you struggle to come up with a coherent thought. he breaks the eye contact before looking around the hall. “everyone’s watching.”

you feel a quick pang of pain in your chest. bang chan, the youngest CEO of his family’s company and the smartest out of all the men in here, is the most oblivious man you’ve ever come across. heat creeps up onto your cheeks and you mentally smack yourself in the head. you were crazy for even hoping that you were both on the same wavelength. it’s just not possible, no matter how much you romanticize the whole situation. you swallow as you nod, hanging your head gently as the both of you continue to sway.

“don’t be shy,” chan chuckles softly. “you’re doing great.”

“yeah, right,” you mumble, playing off the embarrassment and the pain bubbling in your chest. you see a flash of worry pass chan’s eyes, but he doesn’t say anything.

the dance floor slowly fills up with the other couples in the hall, taking the prying eyes off of the two of you. for now. you let out a shaky exhale as chan’s hand squeezes yours.

“you also did great with hyunjin’s tie.”

you raise your eyebrows in surprise, letting out a soft, but nervous giggle. “i have enough experience with yours, sir.” chan snorts before rolling his eyes playfully. he spins the both of you around, wading through the other couples as smoothly as he could manage.

“my ties are of better quality, miss y/l/n. you, of all people, would know.” chan chuckles before his eyes leave yours. he pulls you in closer to him, inhaling softly when you collide with him. what that was for, you don’t know, but you’re close enough to feel his breath on your skin. there must be something in the air.

or maybe he’s just drunk. who knows, really?

“right,” you tease after a few beats of silence, “your ties are imported and his are...?”

“probably imported too,” chan shrugs. “he has the money.”

you scrunch your nose, pulling back from his embrace. “you have to make up your mind. you either talk about him behind his back or you compliment him.” chan tilts his head as he shrugs again, eyes filled with amusement. “you can’t do both.”

“i can do both,” chan mumbles. “i just did it, yes?”

you feel a set of eyes on the both of you, but this time you couldn’t care less. chan, with his charm, wit, and annoying smile, has managed to calm your nerves yet again. it makes you wonder if there was ever a line between friendship and work with the two of you.

you’re taken back to reality as you and chan sway in a comfortable silence, letting the orchestra take you to a world only the two of you knew. you sigh as you turn your head and rest your cheek on his shoulder. you inhale the scent of his cologne, the one you’ve come to know and love after all these years.

“hey,” you hear chan say after a while. you raise your head to meet his eyes before raising an eyebrow. “don’t fix anyone else’s ties when we’re together, okay?”

“are you jealous?” you taunt as you try not to focus on the fact that bang chan’s lips are right there, plump, red, and lonely. chan scoffs, his arm around your waist tightening.

“should i be?”

you laugh, throwing your head back dramatically as chan twirls the both of you around. when he stops, your eyes meet again and he gives you another grin. “you sound like you are.” his grin disappears as quickly as it formed, turning into a small, playful snarl.

“do i? that’s interesting,” chan teases, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. “i just,” he breathes, “don’t appreciate you going around the place fixing every man’s tie in here.”

you giggle, lightly smacking chan’s shoulder. “i fixed one, chan,” you snicker. “i fixed one tie. one!”

“that’s one too many ties, sweetheart.” the nickname travels throughout your body. it’s something he’s never called you before. you blush once more, turning your head away from him as you pretend to look at the other couples dancing. chan hums in front of you, unwrapping his arm around you to instead plant his hand on your waist.

“i was just doing my job,” you mutter. chan licks his bottom lip before he responds. your breath stops when you catch him taking in your facial features, but within a second, his eyes travel back to yours.

“i don’t think ‘fixing hwang hyunjin’s tie’ was part of the contract you signed years ago.”

“but fixing your tie is?” you retort.

chan grins at how fast you respond, shrugging playfully before twirling you around. the couples beside you gasp and giggle, your cheeks heating up at the sudden motion and attention. when you return to chan, he’s chuckling as he wraps his arm around your waist again, pulling you into his torso once more.

“you signed up for that the moment you were hired,” chan mutters, lips painfully close to yours. you swallow as your body starts to grow hot from the lack of space between the two of you.

for a moment, the people around you disappear and you could only focus on the way chan’s breath comes in contact with your skin. when he notices your eyes on his lips, he grins as he continues. “that means you’re only fixing my tie.”

you bite your lip when he leans in to whisper, his arm lowering to a place that you weren’t used to, “and the last time i checked, we’re still in a party thrown for me. in my company. in my house.”

your eyes widen when he pulls away, putting a small space in between the two of you. his arm loosens around you and you can’t help but long for its warmth again. your cheeks are flushed red when you part your lips to say, “chan, i—“

“don’t apologize,” chan interrupts, tilting his head as his arm comes back up to its previous position. it’s as if the words that left his mouth earlier were nothing important, like it wouldn’t keep you up at night. “just do better next time.”

you were used to hearing those words from chan, being his secretary. you had to admit that you weren’t the best one for the job, almost always messing up the man’s schedule or just being plain absentminded while you’re sat on your office chair. you’ve lost track of how much you’ve put chan through, but it was always the same seven words he utters when he helps you clean up the mistakes. it’s a miracle you’re still his secretary, almost a decade after.

“as always,” you stutter softly, your breath betraying you when it hitches.

you see the couples on the dance floor dispersing and before you could move away from chan, he pulls you back into his chest to whisper, “let’s get out of here.” you raise an eyebrow.

“this early?” chan nods in response.

“in 10 minutes,” he turns the both of you to the direction of the back door, “i’ll be waiting for you over there.”

you blink at him as his words replay over and over in your mind. bang chan was the type to finish parties to the point that sometimes, you and he were the last people to leave the venue. but now, he wants to leave the party that was thrown specifically to celebrate him?

“this is new,” you choke out. chan chuckles as he steps away from you, hand still not letting go of yours. he brings the back of your hand to his lips and gives it a soft peck. his lips linger on your skin and when his eyes come up to meet yours, he smirks.

“10 minutes.”

when you look at the obnoxiously large clock on the stage at the end of the room, you realize that the minutes have flown by before you even started counting them.

meeting chan’s eyes from across the room, you knew that it was time to leave. he puts his wine glass on the table beside him, giving one of the businessmen a pat on the back as he excuses himself. when he disappears into the crowd, you clasp your hands together as you wonder what he had planned for the remainder of the night.

your eyes fall on chan when you arrive. he’s resting his back on the wall behind him and his shoulders are slumped, a stark contrast from the way he looked inside earlier. his hands are inside his pockets and the top two buttons of his black formal polo are now unbuttoned. he’s looking at the floor as he waits, his foot tapping to the rhythm of the song being performed in the other room. the echo of your heels in the empty room grabs chan’s attention and he raises his head to meet your eyes, a smile on his lips.

“ready to go?” he asks.

“to where, exactly?” you hum, grabbing your phone from your dress pocket to give chan’s driver a quick text.

like the way your breath hitches, your movements halt when chan opens the back door for you. shouldn’t you be the one to open it for him and not the other way around? you motion forward with your hand and chan shakes his head.

“ladies first.”

“listen, i don’t know what you’re doing,” you start, “but i know you’re expecting something in return after this.” chan lets out an exhale through his nose as he smiles. “so, i think you should step out first.”

“maybe, i just want to do something for you this time,” chan shrugs. “have you ever thought of that?”

chan watches the way your cheeks heat up and before any of you could say anything else, you hear a honk outside. he’s the first to break the eye-contact, looking behind to wave at his driver. he turns his attention back to you with a cheeky grin on his lips.

“like i said, ladies first.”

you narrow your eyes toward him, but you step out nonetheless. behind you, you hear the door close and chan’s walking toward the car before you could blink. you follow after him, your heels clacking on the concrete. you overtake him as you near the car, your hand gripping the handle to open the door for him. his hand makes contact with yours, enveloping it as he does the same.

your eyes meet and it might have been because of the cold night air, but you see the color of bang chan’s cheeks turn into a light shade of red. you try to stop yourself from shivering when he grips your hand tighter to open the car door. your eyes don’t leave him as it opens and he motions for you to enter first.

you hesitate. wasn’t this your job?

“y/n,” you hear him call, “i insist.”

you sigh, but don’t say anything else when you slip your hand out of his grip, ducking as you get inside the backseat. chan follows soon after, closing the car door and greeting his driver as he relaxes his back on the seat behind him.

chan’s driver turns to him as he asks, “where to, sir?”

he answers, “take us home, please.”

and with that, chan presses the button to slide the partition close.

the words that left his mouth almost give you whiplash. it was such a simple sentence, but somehow, your brain couldn’t comprehend it. you open your mouth as you turn to give chan a look. he reciprocates as he cocks his head to the side, chest glistening underneath the streetlights.

“i apologize if that was a bit forward, but is it okay if i bring you to my place?” your boss hums, putting his arm on the curve of the backseat. “i figured we could work there instead of the office.”

you let his words settle into you the same way you lean back on the seat. your mind travels back to the calendar you prepared and submitted to him last sunday—a couple of meetings on monday and tuesday, a press conference on wednesday, and a celebratory party on thursday. and since everyone’s too hungover to function the next day, friday’s scheduled to be a lighter one, as requested by chan himself. you furrow your eyebrows, looking up at the ceiling to wonder, did you somehow forget the details you put on the schedule?

and not just details, but work? didn’t you and chan rush two days worth of tasks the previous nights so that the both of you can, as you quote him, “enjoy the party”? but, here you were, on the way to his house to work. again.

chan catches the look in your eyes. “it’s nothing heavy. i just need your help.”

“and why wasn’t this plotted in your official schedule?” you question, letting your eyes drift to his, an eyebrow raised.

chan’s eyes widen and he brings his forearm up to scratch the side of his head. “it’s...it’s really not that important to warrant a spot in my calendar.”

“but, important enough for you to ask for my help?”

the color on chan’s cheeks disappear and his smile drops the way his arm does to his side. he scoffs softly. “if it’s work related, of course.” he shakes his head. “you’re my secretary. a part of your job is to heed every call.”

“is this what i have to do since you opened the door for me earlier?”

“‘this’ being?”

“staying up all night with you again. working.”

chan rests his elbow on the window beside him. “that’s never been a problem for you, y/n,” he pauses. “why is it a problem now?”

you weren’t one to complain, but was it such a bad thing to long for a break? sure, the party takes place inside the company’s hall, but you didn’t have to be hunched over a desk, reading through paperwork to summarize and report or make him coffee to keep him awake. you weren’t required to do things for him—to work— because the both of you were there to have fun, mingle, and socialize with all of the other hot shots in the industry.

you were hoping, even just for one night, that you’d escape work responsibilities, that chan would have something fun planned for tonight.

but, maybe you expected for too much from bang christopher chan.

his dry laugh interrupts your thoughts. “unless you’d rather be with hwang hyunjin on that dance floor?”

“hwang hyun— are you kidding me?” you exclaim, eyes wide, as you turn to him. “you’re picking a fight because of hwang hyunjin? i can’t believe this.”

you huff as you cross your arms in front of your chest, looking away from chan to gaze out the window. the previous topic of the calendar is thrown out and it joins the blur of the buildings moving past the car. never in your life have you despised a three-letter word until now, when memories of tonight are slowly overpowered by the word tie.

you hear chan take a deep breath and you couldn’t help but wonder if the man is actually jealous. if so, you’d prefer he tell you, rather than going back and forth. but then again, you were perfectly fine sitting like this with him—silent and unmoving. it stays like this for a few good minutes, until, in the corner of your eye, you see chan’s knee start bouncing. if it weren’t for that, you wouldn’t—

“i don’t see the big deal,” you sigh exasperatedly. “it’s just a damn tie.” before your hands even fall to your lap, chan’s eyes are on you like they never left.

he turns his body to you, motioning with his hands as he frowns. “it’s not just a tie to me. do you know how close th—“

“so, you are jealous?” you ask, putting a hand on your forehead as your skin heats up. “you’re jealous because i fixed another man’s tie?”

he furrows his eyebrows, shaking his head, as he grips the curve of the backseat. “i—“

“chan, you’re not even wearing a tie tonight! what am i supposed to fix—oh my god!“

the air in the car grows heavy as you try and catch your breath. chan slowly lowers his head to gaze upon his exposed chest. the tips of his ears turn red and it quickly travels down to his cheeks and neck. he swallows as he rubs his nape, a sheepish grin replacing the frown he had on earlier.

it was moments like this that make you wonder if chan’s really the smartest man you know.

“i guess you’re right,” chan whispers. “i’m sorry.”

“you should be,” you say in disbelief. “god, chan, it’s not like i wanted to do it!” he raises his eyebrows, letting out a soft hum, as he nods at your words. you crinkle your nose as you continue. “it was an honest mistake that i”— you point to yourself—“wholeheartedly regret doing and before yo—“

“i just don’t like other men looking at you the same way i do,” chan cuts you off, volume higher than usual. “okay? that’s it.” your boss slices the air to, quite literally, cut the tension. “end of argument.”

absolutely not. not after what he just said.

chan shrugs as he turns away from you to rest his elbow on the window once more. your heart pounds in your chest as his words float around in your mind, attacking every single thought that had made its presence known. your mind becomes an empty void and when you come to your senses—one of them—your skin forms goosebumps.

and it’s not because of the ac in the car.

“help me understand what’s happening right now, chan.”

“y/n,” chan groans softly. “if only you saw the way hyunjin looked at you. his eye—“

“i tripped in front of him!”

“and that’s the charm of it all,” chan states as he turns to look at you. your eyes meet and your heart skips a beat. you blink at him and he sighs.

“you’re different from all of the other women in there. you’re a breath of fresh air.”

your shoulders relax, but your hands begin to sweat. your anger and frustration have now been replaced by confusion and the butterflies in your stomach, which have been reserved for the man in front of you, start flapping their wings as your cheeks heat up. you’re about to ask what he meant, but chan parts his lips and it shuts you up quickly.

“it’s hard to let our guards down. the industry’s full of competition, full of rivalry, so you have to have thick skin,” chan pauses to shrug. “the businessmen in that party don’t care about my success, nor do the media. they only care about what’s next for us, what’s next for the company, all that good stuff.” chan sighs, “you know what i mean.”

“because of that,” he clicks his tongue, “i can’t have friends, nor can i have relationships because i’m never sure why they’re with me.” chan laughs bitterly and you feel a bit of resentment seeping out as he continues. “is it about the money? the fame? corporate espionage? fuck if i know,” chan looks back out of the window. on his thigh, you see his fist clench.

it was at this moment that you knew that this was not bang christopher chan, but this was only chan beside you, the complex, but relaxed and soft-spoken man you were privileged enough to know and spend time with during late nights in the office. a side of him no one else saw, but for some reason, he was willing to share as you sat beside him on his office couch.

the silence that comes after is louder than anything you’ve heard at the party earlier. you decide to take the leap, reach out, and hold his hand.

“y/n,” he breathes out, stopping your hand. “you’re different, okay? you’re different because you’ve never made me feel that way.” chan runs a hand through his hair. “the men and women in the office tiptoe around me, like there’s eggshells or something,” chan hangs his head down as he taps his fingertips on his thigh. “but you, you barely ever do.”

your breath catches in your throat and you whimper, “chan—“

“i’m not finished,” chan jokes shakily, turning his body to you this time. “you’re not afraid to make mistakes when you’re around me, laugh at my jokes, or sometimes, you just sit there and listen to me ramble.” chan smiles to himself. “you tell me what’s on your mind, your opinions, your views and most of the time, that’s the highlight of my day, not”— he motions with his hands—“the sale i’ll be making in the afternoon or the press conference we’ve got planned.”

us, we. always the duo, you and chan were. but why does tonight feel different and why is the sparkle in his eyes more prominent than before? “hell,” chan rolls his eyes playfully, “you even answer back to me. not a lot of people get that privilege.” even if your eyebrows are furrowed, your lips part to let out a soft giggle.

“and it does infuriate me,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “but i’ll let you do it.” chan lets his eyes meet yours and you freeze.

“over and over again.”

you feel as if a strong wind blows in the car, knocking you back into the seat. you grip the side of your dress to keep your hand from shaking. chan’s stare burns your skin and you try your best not to melt into the car itself. he inhales, “whenever you talk back, it makes me feel human. it reminds me that”—he puts a hand over his chest—“i’m not perfect, that i make mistakes, and that i should let my pride down sometimes.”

“sometimes?” you interrupt. chan’s ears perk up when he hears you and he lets his shoulders relax, his eyes growing soft and a grin forming on his lips.

“yes, sometimes,” chan snickers. “but, i guess what i’m trying to say is,” he sighs, “you make me feel human, not a business drone or ‘the most successful CEO of the year’.”

before you could respond or even make sense of the point, chan quickly adds, “and you probably made hyunjin feel the same way when you tripped. i remember you told me that he bursted out laughing as soon as you left his office.”

“yeah,” you deadpan. “thanks for that memory.” beside you, chan chuckles and the car slows down when the light turns red.

“anytime.”

and with a small smile on his lips, your boss at the other end of the seat looks back out of the window. in the corner of your eye, you see chan’s hand on the middle of the seat. you’re almost tempted to take it into yours as your mind travels to the words he uttered only moments ago.

there’s a reason why he’s awarded as the country’s most successful CEO. chan, as lovingly labelled by the media, is the industry’s Wolf, a title that was given to him during his second year in the position. and though many have come close, like the blonde-haired man in the party earlier, chan has never been overthrown by any other. sharp and smart, bang chan has done more than his father ever could, bringing the company to the international stock market and to other heights that only the other CEOs could dream of.

but, all these achievements came at a price. it’s lonely at the top, as they’ve said, and with bang chan, you saw that very statement come to life. chan, because of his reputation and riches, has closed himself up to make sure his mind and his company stays ahead and clear. that, of course, meant that he had to solve his personal problems on his own.

because who would the man on top run to when there’s no one else with him?

however, with his words, you realize that, maybe, you were that person for him. the person he can laugh and joke around with. the person he can talk to freely, ramble to, and spend time with. the person that allows him to be himself, no judgements, no pressure.

though, you’ve always felt some sort of tension between the two of you, it was enough to know that chan saw you more than just his secretary. you’d rather have him that way, than nothing at all. you turn to him.

you’re about to thank him, but chan’s voice rings out in the car as the light outside turns green. “and apart from all of that, you’re gorgeous too.”

“excuse me?” you choke out, eyes widening. chan turns to you, an eyebrow raised as he exhales through his nose. a soft ‘what?’ leaves his lips. “did i have too much to drink tonight?” chan merely chuckles at the question.

“you didn’t have any,” he responds. you shake your head as you shift uncomfortably in your seat.

it couldn’t be possible. was this a dream? first, chan became slightly possessive and now he’s calling you gorgeous like it won’t affect you, like you’ll believe him. the world must be punishing you right now, but if you close your eyes, maybe you’ll wake up in your apartment like it’s groundhog day. as you try and shut the world off, chan calls out your name and it brings you back to the car.

“do you want me to repea—“

“no!” you exclaim, leaning over to grab chan’s forearm.

chan glances at your hand, then at your lips. it’s through this subtle action that you realize how close the two of you are. he blinks at you while his cheeks become coated with a nice shade of red, but he doesn’t pull his arm away. “well, you heard me,” he utters. “i apologize if i don’t say it enough or don’t say it at all.”

you’re about to lose your mind.

“but, um,” chan uses his free hand to scratch the back of his neck, “you really are beautiful. hwang hyunjin knows it, changbin knows it, the staff in the office know it, and i know it.” chan pauses as his eyes scan your face for any reaction, to which you respond only with your mouth slightly opening.

he huffs as he furrows his eyebrows, “i know it because i get to be with you everyday and i’d be stupid to deny it to myself any further.”

“and yes, it does bother me when men stare at you,” chan continues. your chest tightens and you couldn’t breathe, but it’s somehow the good kind, the kind that you don’t want to end, the kind that you could get used to.

“they see how much of a great woman you are, in the office and out of it. i’m glad they do, but at the same time,” chan pauses to remove his forearm from your grip. he wraps both of his hands around your wrists.

“you and i have been together for so long that i can’t see myself working with anybody new.” you blink. “what if they take you away? what if they offer you a higher salary or promise you more opportunities? or what if the—“

“chan,” you whisper, “just tell me what you want to say.” the man in front of you lets out a shaky breath and when he opens his mouth once more, a mess of incoherent words come out.

“just give it to me straight.” you plead. both of your eyes lock as his breath intertwines with yours.

you’ve only really lit one firework in your whole life.

how it goes is you strike a match to ignite a spark and while it travels down the incredibly long wick, it gives you ample time to run away and cower. the experience of running and waiting was thrilling, but what came after was underwhelming—the spark did not carry over to its destination.

but as chan presses his lips on yours, his hands tightening around your wrists to pull you in closer, you’re finally able to see the spark reach its destination after the 8 years of long, agonizing wait. the firework fires up into the sky, the black canvas being painted by a million different colors all at once. chan removes his hands around your wrists to cup your face.

now, you can say that you’ve lit two fireworks in your life.

compared to the absolute chaos happening inside of your body, the kiss is slow and gentle with chan’s lips, soft and plump, perfectly fitting into yours like a puzzle piece you never knew was missing. you tangle your hands into his hair to push him into you deeper and chan lets you, tilting his head to the side.

chan’s hand is the match that ignites another spark in your chest as it travels down to the side of your neck. your heart pounds louder when his hand settles on your skin, the heat from his fingertips combining with the heat that has formed on your neck.

you find yourself leaning back to the corner of your seat and before you could process it, chan’s on top of you. your skin forms goosebumps when his hand moves down to your waist. when you arch your back and push your torso onto his, you rip a soft groan from the back of his throat.

chan pushes himself off of you, his pupils dilated and his breath not being remotely enough for him.

“what was that for?” you whisper, your chest heaving. outside, you see his mansion come into view.

“you said to give it to you straight.”

but, fuck, you wanted more. you wanted curves, zigzags, waves, all of it. as long as chan’s lips are on yours again, you wanted it all.

truth be told, you’ve never set foot in chan’s house. you’ve only seen the mansion through the car window, but you knew, one way or the other, you’ll be able to see what lies inside. of course, you were his secretary. heed every call, right?

you just didn’t envision that it’d be in this way.

“chan—“

you don’t finish your sentence as you’re gently pushed back onto the front door once it closes. chan’s on you like the way he was in the car, but this time, he’s closer, the distance almost non-existent as he puts his hands on your waist. goosebumps arise from your skin as his lips find their way to your neck. you’ve always thought you were stronger than this, but you’re already gasping for air when he starts peppering kisses down your skin.

“chan,” you breathe. he comes up from the side of your neck with his eyebrow raised and a small grin on his lips. “i thought we had work to do.”

chan hums nonchalantly in response and he merely dives back in your neck, closing the space between the two of you like you weren’t close enough. you find yourself tilting your head to give him more access and chan, being the smart man he is, notices this immediately. he grunts softly and you shiver, his lips latching onto the sides he hasn’t taken in.

you bite your lip, but as much as you were enjoying the attention, especially after 8 years of longing, you and chan had to work. knowing him, he’d value work over this in a heartbeat. you try and push him off of you, but he only tightens his grip.

“chan,” you whine, “this can wai—“

“no,” he mutters as he pulls you into his torso, “it can’t.” he hovers his lips on yours, his hot breath hitting your skin. “i don’t want to wait anymore.” you gasp when he squeezes your waist.

“i can’t. not anymore.”

though chan’s tone is stern, there’s longing in his voice like he’s a man who’s been denied of life’s pleasures for years and frankly, you feel the same way. he didn’t have to say anything else before you’re clashing your lips into his, your hands travelling to his hair and tugging on it. chan presses his body onto yours and you’re pushed back on the door again. you whimper.

chan’s clothed torso is hot against yours and its heat travels down in between your thighs. your wetness pools in your panties and before you knew it, he’s unwrapping his arm from your waist to lift you up. your legs wrap around his torso in an instant, like the both of you have done this before. he grins into the kiss, his hands finding their way to the curve of your ass as he starts walking to his bedroom.

even with his eyes closed and his neck craned up to keep his lips on yours, chan wades smoothly through his furniture and the both of you make it up the stairs with no problem. you should have been more concerned, but knowing bang chan, he’s got you. always have and always will, that much you know. he does, however, accidentally slam you onto his bedroom door. you wince.

“sorry,” chan mumbles. “won’t happen again.”

“excited?” you tease softly. chan chuckles against your lips as he reaches out to grab the door handle.

“very.” you feel a gush of wind hit your back as the door opens. his lips are on yours again as the both of you make your way in.

he lies you down on the bed, your hair splaying all over your shoulders and on the sheets behind you. when chan pulls away, he latches himself onto the skin behind your ear and you sigh as you put your hand on the back of his head. you arch your back into him when you feel his member hardening from below you and all he could do is chuckle, though a bit shaky.

chan runs a hand down to your waist as you spread your legs open to accommodate him. “you’re already so beautiful,” he breathes on your skin, “and you aren’t even naked yet.”

your breath catches in your throat, whimpering in response. it was overwhelming enough to learn that chan finds you beautiful, but to think that he’s thought of you unclothed? you could die happy now, as cheesy as that sounds. he comes up from your neck to press a soft kiss on your jaw. his free hand trails up the side of your body, fingers playing with the zipper located on the side of the dress.

“may i?”

the question rings out in the room and it echoes in the confines of your mind. such a simple, harmless question, but you feel blood rush to every part of your body. your legs close around his torso, your clit starting to throb at the prospect of being undressed by the man you’ve been hopelessly in love with. you nod and chan whispers a soft ‘thank you’ as he starts unzipping your dress.

as you feel your dress start unravelling with his touch, you inhale, taking in chan’s scent. it’s a combination of mint and lemon and it’s something you’ve gotten used to after years of working with him. it’s never been anything but cologne to you, but tonight it’s ambrosial and intoxicating. you let yourself drown in it, closing your eyes as chan’s lips continue to do their wonders on your neck.

the cold air hits your skin once chan fully unzips your dress and it brings you back to his bed, in his presence, in his hold. you whimper softly in his ear. he squeezes your waist, grunting as he presses a soft kiss on your shoulder.

“i can’t believe we waited this long,” chan whispers. you giggle before slowly slipping your arms out of your now loose dress straps. you don’t break the eye contact as you tug your dress down to your chest. the dip in between your tits catches chan’s attention and he breaks the stare to shamelessly trail his eyes down.

chan licks his bottom lip before he looks back up at you.

“we don’t have to wait anymore,” you reassure, reaching a hand up to swipe your thumb over his lip, glistening and swollen.

at your words, chan’s eyes dilate and darken. the color of his cheeks turn into a shade of red and as you’re about to tease, chan tugs your dress down your chest, exposing your breasts in all of its entirety. heat travels all over your body and your nipples harden under his touch. chan dips down to your chest like the bead of sweat trickling down your back and you can only moan when his lips start sucking the skin in between your breasts.

you whimper when he cups one of your tits, kneading it softly as he continues to suck on the skin. your hand finds its way to chan’s shoulder and you grip it as he pulls away with a soft pop. chan gazes up at you before smirking, your words failing you once again when he attaches his lips beside your nipple, nipping on the skin to leave another mark.

you moan his name as your hand latches onto the back of his head, pulling him into your skin even more. his teeth graze you and you arch your back into him, only to be pushed down by his hand on your waist. he doesn’t say anything once he pulls away, only going back in to leave more marks on your chest.

as if the marks weren’t proof of who you belonged to, chan utters, “mine.” you squeeze his shoulder tighter. “all mine.”

maybe, this is why chan’s called “the Wolf”.

your mouth falls open, his name falling off of it as his lips wrap around your nipple. the hand on your waist moves back up to cup your other breast. one of chan’s fingers plays with your other nipple and your hips lifts up to meet him, your heat making contact with his member. chan groans onto your skin, the vibrations travelling back down to where you ached for him.

“you say my name so prettily, babe.” the nickname shoots you straight in the chest and your heart aches. never in a million years did you think that chan would be on you the way he was now. the thought makes you whine softly. you feel chan’s hand move away from your breast. it follows the curve of your body and it slips in between your thighs, making you spread your legs even further apart. chan chuckles breathlessly.

you shiver when he presses his fingers in the front of your panties and you bite your lip when he starts rubbing, his tongue on your nipple following the motion of his fingers below you. as most new lovers, however, chan’s missing where you needed him most and you move your hips to help him find it. chan’s off of your nipple the moment you call out above him, chest slightly heaving as he looks up at you.

“can you move—“ you pant, “to the left?”

it takes a second for him to realize, the movement of his fingers slowing to a halt as he tilts his head. he blushes softly when he does and he chuckles. “i... just—“ he complies with your needs, but he’s still not—

“oh fuck. yeah,” you cry out when he finally finds your nub. “right there, chan. right there.”

“yeah baby,” he grunts, a smirk taking over his lips after. “i feel you.”

it’s amazing how chan’s making you see stars when he’s only rubbing you through your panties. chan notices this too, pecking one of the marks he left on your chest as he hums, moving down in between your legs. he inhales softly, fingers still making circles on your clit.

“god,” he groans. “you smell so sweet.” your wetness gushes out of you and you grip the sheets beside you, biting your lip as you feel his hot breath caress your folds. chan raises his eyes and he licks his lip when your eyes lock.

“i want to taste you.”

so simple, so straightforward, yet so obscene coming from the mouth of an executive. chan grins when you breathe a ‘yes’, your back arching when he hooks a finger on the waist band of your panties, teasingly taking his time as he pulls it down your thighs. you buck your hips up and chan snickers, “okay, okay. i got it.”

he puts your panties aside before he comes back up to your torso. his clothed member is dangerously close to yours and you’re almost tempted to grind yourself onto him. “let’s get this off,” chan mumbles as he tugs on your dress. “now.”

it may be the secretary in you or it may just be the lust that’s driving you at this point, but you’re scrambling to help chan get rid of the dress that’s clinging to your body. you shiver when it’s removed fully, the dress hitting the floor with a soft thud. chan looks down at you and he lets out a long breath like he’s been holding one in. you blush and instinctively, your hands try to cover your body. he frowns as he leans back down to grab a hold of your hands.

“no,” he mumbles before pressing a kiss on your lips. “your body’s beautiful. you’re beautiful. don’t hide from me.”

chan lets go of your hands and you let them fall down to your sides. “do you know how long i’ve wanted to see you like this?” he mutters as he kisses down your torso. goosebumps form on your skin. “especially when you wear those skirts.”

your heart pounds in your chest when he settles in between your thighs, kissing them before he dips down to press a kiss on your clit. your hand goes to his hair, your core clenching at the feeling of being empty.

“sir—“

“oh, that’s so cliché,” chan interjects, a playful smile on his lips as he raises his head. the atmosphere in the room changes and you find yourself opening your eyes as you prop yourself up with your elbows. you raise an eyebrow as heat travels to your cheeks.

“i—“

“if i got off to that nickname, i would have had a hard-on every time you called me sir.”

you roll your eyes with a huff as you lie back down on the bed. “just get on with it.”

“wow,” he laughs softly, “my secretary’s ordering me around now?”

truthfully, you loved banter with chan, but not tonight. not when he’s there, in between your thighs, purposefully ignoring the sex that’s staring him straight in the eyes. always the tease, bang chan was. you’re just not having it tonight.

“i’m not your secretary right now.”

you hear chan inhale sharply and within a second, he’s on your core like a fiend craving a shot of his drug. your hand’s on his hair again, tugging on it as you moan incoherently. he licks a stripe from your hole to your clit, the lewd sounds of his tongue lapping your wetness ringing out in the room after. your hip bucks up when he starts sucking on your clit and he puts your leg over his shoulder in the process to give him more access to your folds.

“you’re so delicious,” chan groans. “better than anything i’ve ever tasted.” you moan out brokenly, pulling him back into your clit like your life depended on it. he chuckles against it and the vibrations allow an explosion of a million fireworks inside of you. your mouth falls open the way your legs do, your moans filling the room with the sound of chan’s full lips on your pussy.

chan smirks below you, obviously pleased by the way your body is reacting to him. it’s embarrassing, but that’s what he gets for taking his precious time with you. you know he won’t let this go any time soon, but you couldn’t care less. he pecks your clit before pulling away. your clit throbs at the loss of the friction, but chan makes up for it when he plunges two of his fingers inside of you.

the intrusion is sudden, but welcome, as your back flies off of the bed with a loud cry, sitting up as you grip his shoulder. chan mewls softly as he plants a hand outside of your thigh to support himself as he leans up to crash his lips into yours. you taste your juices on him when he swipes his tongue on your bottom lip and your wetness seeps out, dripping onto the sheets below you. his fingers continue their assault on your pussy, alternatively thrusting and rubbing your walls.

chan pulls away from the kiss and a string of your combined spit attaches itself on his bottom lip. he breaks the string by licking his bottom lip and you find it unfair how chan’s lips just continue to look immaculate despite how swollen and red it is. he simpers as he rests his forehead on yours, sweat starting to form on its sides.

“do you hear yourself, baby?” he purrs. “do you hear how wet you are for me?” for him, for him, for him. all for chan, all for the man you’ve loved for years now. your hand wraps around his nape, pulling chan into your shoulder as he continues to thrust into your heat. he groans as he bites down on the skin, the sound of your slick overpowering anything else in the bedroom. you feel the familiar coil starting to form in your lower regions.

your cunt clenches around his fingers when he curls them and your hips start to gyrate. “y/n,” chan moans, “you’re getting so tight.” you whimper his name as your wetness coats his fingers even more, the sound and the smell of your sex getting more and more prominent as the coil in your stomach threatens to unravel for chan.

“cum for me, baby,” he growls. “cum.”

chan wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you into him as ecstasy takes over the entirety of your body. you shake and tremble in his hold as he whispers sweet nothings and praises in your ear. his fingers slow to help you ride out your orgasm and he hums as your legs continue to shiver at his sides. he thrusts his fingers in once, twice, before he pulls them out, pulling away from the embrace to lick his fingers clean. he groans in delight.

you’re panting as you push chan onto the bed, getting on top of him before pressing your swollen lips onto his. naturally, his hands fall onto your hips as your lips move in sync. you run your hand down his clothed chest, the satin feeling supple against your fingertips. your desire, fuelled by the adrenaline surging through your veins, makes you whimper as you pop open the remaining buttons of chan’s polo.

every pop is significant to the way the both of you are letting yourselves go, baring your bodies and souls to each other after years of not being able to, after years of merely hoping. your heart pounds as you rip open chan’s polo, sighing as his torso shines underneath the light streaming inside the bedroom. chan pulls you back into his lips with a gentle hand on the back of your neck.

chan’s lips are soft on yours and you let yourself get carried away as you cup his face. chan hums as he sits up to remove his polo, lips not moving away from yours. he throbs in between your thighs and you gasp. chan takes this opportunity to slip his tongue to connect with yours and the both of you create a new language in the process.

“you’re so beautiful, y/n,” he whines as the both of you pull away. “you’ve always been so beautiful.”

you blush, your hand caressing his cheek gently as you utter a soft ‘thank you’. you share one more quick kiss before your hand moves down his torso to start unbuckling his pants. “let me return the favor.”

“no,” chan answers, reaching down to hold your wrist. “you don’t need to.”

“baby—“

he tightens his hold on your wrist as he pleads softly, “please. you always take care of me, y/n.” he leans up to mutter on your lips, “let me do that for you tonight.”

you weren’t strong enough to refuse the offer and you let chan raise you up from his lap, only to be lied down on the bed once more. you relax into the mattress as chan positions himself in between your legs. as he unbuckles his belt, your mind travels to the moment in the car and you can’t help but wonder—

“you meant what you said earlier, right?”

chan’s eyes are on you immediately as he hears your voice, his hands stopping. “of course, i did.”

“you didn’t just say that to get in my pants?”

chan bites his lip to suppress a laugh and he shakes his head as his hands resume their task earlier. “no,” he giggles. “if that was my plan the whole time, i would have just said ‘hey, i’m bang chan’ and your pants would have slid right off.”

you throw your head back onto the pillows as you laugh softly. “that didn’t happen when you interviewed me.”

“yeah, well,” chan mumbles, sliding out of his pants, “it’s happening now.”

“8 years after, but okay.”

“it’s still happening, so my point still stands,” chan shrugs, chuckling when he sees you cross your arms in front of your chest. “i’m sorry,” he laughs as he leans down to kiss you. “i’m kidding.”

“you’re so full of yourself, babe,” you tease.

your smile disappears when chan’s cock springs out of his boxers, thick and hard, with the tip red and glistening as pre-cum leaks out of it. the base is adorned with his veins, prominent enough to show up in the darkness. his cock twitches and your mouth opens, salivating at the sight of him.

when you look back up, you let your eyes take in chan and you marvel at him, basking in the presence of a man whose body looks like it has been sculpted by the Gods up above. shoulders broad, muscles defined, your core throbs and tightens at the promise of getting to have him tonight.

it was here that you understood that you didn’t need to be swept off of your feet or be brought to anywhere else fancy when bang chan, in all of his glory, is no place you’ve ever been to. you’re more than willing to get to know him tonight and let him take you where he pleased.

“you’re about to be full of me in a second,” he jokes, smirking. his cheeks turn pink and you try your best to ignore the fondness brewing in your stomach. despite putting on his confident facade, you know chan is as nervous as you are. “lie back.”

you rest your back on the sheets below you, your legs opening to welcome chan in between them for the second time tonight. the feeling of his hands on the side of your body awakens something feral in you and before you can process the reaction, you buck your hips up onto him, your wet core brushing his hard cock. he groans as he pulls away, spitting on his palm before smearing it all over his member. you lick your lip before reaching up to hold his nape once more.

“ready?” he asks as he pumps himself, lining himself up in front of your core.

you feel as if you’re walking a tightrope when he asks you the question. one misstep and you’re falling into everything that encapsulated him, into everything that was bang chan. were you ready to let go and let him overwhelm you? after 8 long years, you finally let your foot slip and the next thing you know, you’re looking back up at chan, hand squeezing his shoulder as you say,

“ready as i’ll ever be, baby.”

it’s as if the gates of heaven opened when chan pushes himself in you, the both of your moans creating a melodic symphony that echoes in the bedroom. his girth parts your walls and the feeling burns ever so slightly. you whimper as you bite your lip, throwing your head back onto the pillows. a comforting hand rests on your waist as he stops at his thickest.

“you’re so big,” you choke out. he hums as he leans down to bury his face in your neck to smile against it. chan presses a soft kiss on your skin as he bottoms out, groaning softly when your cunt clenches around him. you put a hand on his back, pressing his skin as he pulls out fully. he pushes back in roughly, the sound of his balls hitting your skin echoing in the whole room. you claw at his back as you arch yours, gasping, and he grunts softly.

chan starts thrusting, his skin grinding against your swollen nub. “your pussy’s so tight, babe,” he moans. you sigh in response as your legs wrap around his torso, pushing him in you even deeper. you needed him, you wanted him, and you’re here to make sure you get to experience bang chan in ways you’ve never experienced him. it doesn’t matter how many he’s had before you. what matters is that he’s in you now, thrusting his cock and taking you to heaven.

“you’re so good,” you praise, voice cracking as a whine comes out. “you’re so good to me.”

“yeah?” chan breathes, a smug smile forming on his lips. his chest heaves as he continues to ram into you. his skin is hot against yours and you drown in the feeling and in his scent. “you’ve thought about this before, haven’t you?” you whine in response. “such a dirty mind for a refined secretary. ”

chan bites down on your shoulder before slowing his thrusts, raising his head from your neck. “turn around.”

it doesn’t register quickly, but once it does, you’re off of his cock to get on fours, planting your hands on the soft mattress and arching your back to expose yourself to chan. he groans behind you, hovering over you as he puts a hand on the headboard in front of you.

“tell me what you want,” chan whispers, pressing a soft kiss on your shoulder.

“baby, please,” you cry. “you know.”

chan snickers, pushing only the tip of his cock in. “i need to hear you say it.”

“chan—“

“tell me, baby. tell me what you want.”

“your cock, chan. please, i want it. i need it. i want to feel you inside me, please. pl—“

chan squeezes your hips before pounding his cock inside of you. you cry out his name, throwing your head back as your eyes close. you get lost in chan’s grunts, letting them wrap themselves around your body the way chan’s arm snakes around your waist. he pulls your body back into him, your back flushing against his chest. the sounds of your slick coating chan’s cock as he continues to ram into you rings in your ears and you feel your clit ache below you.

“god, baby,” chan grunts. “it’s like my cock’s made for you.”

you whine at his words, your hand making its way down to rub circles on your clit. chan growls softly, removing his hand from the headboard to hold your wrist.

“let me,” he mutters. “let me take you there.”

you weren’t about to say no.

the promise of an orgasm looms on you as chan draws rough circles on your clit. his thrusts start to syncopate from his rhythm and he pushes you back down on the bed gently. you bury your face on his soft sheets and you turn your head to the side as you moan and whine an incoherent mess of praises and curses. you grip the sheets as you spread your legs apart and your thighs start to shake as chan presses his fingers down on your clit.

“baby,” you rasp, tears forming in the corner of your eyes, “i can’t—“

chan grunts, “you want to cum for me again?”

“yes, please, please, pl—“

“gush on my cock, baby. let me feel you.”

it’s pure ecstasy when you do, letting yourself go in the pleasure of everything that was bang chan—his moans, grunts, breathing, cock, everything. you cry out into his sheets and grip them until your knuckles turn white. your legs try to close as your whole body shakes and just like the first time, chan takes you to a place you’ve never been, your vision turning blurry as he continues to pound you. your toes curl as you moan his name, like it’s the only word in your vocabulary. behind you, chan whines softly.

“where do you want me to cum?”

you don’t respond immediately, body shaking in the aftermath of your orgasm. “inside,” you pant. “give it to me.”

chan cries, “jesus, fuck.” he loses his rhythm completely as he leans over you, his sweat falling on your back. “shit, y/n, baby, i— ”

he thrusts a few more times before he grabs your hips, pulling you into him with a groan as he spills his cum, hot and sticky, inside of you. your pussy clamps down on his cock as he grinds inside you to ride his high out, his hand finding its way to the dip of your back. he pulls out after a short while and you whine at the emptiness that comes with it. you do, however, feel both of your juices seep out of you, dripping down on his bed sheets.

“what a sight,” chan mutters behind you as you let your body fall on the bed. you giggle softly as you close your legs, the high wearing down as your body starts to feel heavy. you have a feeling you’d be sore tomorrow, but the both of you weren’t expecting many to come into work, anyway. so, you’ll end up getting away with it. for now. the bed dips beside you and chan pulls you into him, your back against his chest.

for a moment, you listen to his breathing and focus on the way his fingers lied on your stomach. your eyes start to grow heavy, but you hear chan whisper, “are you okay?”

“i am,” you respond softly, turning around to face him. once your eyes meet, chan smiles as he tucks a hair strand on the back of your ear. his hair is disheveled and wet with sweat, but still, chan looked as well put together as he always does. you lean up to kiss him, your lips moving slowly on each other. when you pull away, chan’s eyes are twinkling and he lets out a soft hum of satisfaction.

“so,” you mumble, playfully tapping his bottom lip, “are we still going to work tonight?”

chan groans, throwing his head back with a chuckle. “it can wait.”

“no. it can’t,” you tease, pressing a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. chan’s arms around your waist tighten as he pulls you closer.

“don’t use my words against me,” chan grins. he places his hand on the back of your head, lightly stroking your hair. your eyes grow heavy and the next thing you know, you’re wavering in between falling asleep and staying awake.

you do hear chan’s voice in the midst of all of this, a soft and gentle, “hey, i love you.” you feel him kiss your forehead before you blissfully fall into oblivion.

you wake up when chan’s bedroom door bursts open, the door handle hitting the wall.

you raise your head, squinting as you watch chan come in with a tray of food. the aroma hits your nose immediately and your stomach growls softly. he gives you a quick, apologetic smile as he puts the tray down at the edge of the bed.

“good morning,” he greets, running a hand through his hair. he sits down beside the tray and he grins. your eyes travel down his figure, the black formal polo from last night is on his torso again, paired with the boxers, you could only assume, he was wearing last night.

friday, a new work day for the two of you. “good morning to you too, sir,” you mumble before rubbing your eyes. your chest stings from all of the marks from last night and you wince. chan lets out a soft hum, reaching out to hold your hand in his.

“did you sleep well?”

“yeah. thanks to you,” you tease. chan runs his thumb on your palm, inhaling as he looks up at you, cheeks pink.

a comfortable silence falls in the room as the both of you sit in each other’s company. it was overwhelming enough that you woke up in chan’s bed, but now he’s cooked you breakfast, plated it, and put it on a tray to bring to you. it didn’t even occur to you that he knew how to cook. you smile to yourself as you realize— you didn’t know everything about him yet. you part your lips to speak, but you didn’t notice chan doing the same.

“listen—“

“chan—“

“oh, you go firs—“

“no, you can—“

the two of you huff simultaneously, laughing at each other. “you go first,” you giggle. chan nods, coughing into his fist with a smile.

“about last night,” he starts, “i hope i didn’t hurt you too much.”

you look down at your chest playfully as you shrug. “it’s no big deal,” you hum. “i enjoyed it.” chan chuckles in response. he watches as you reach over to the plate, letting go of his hand as you bring the plate to your lap. “did you enjoy?” you question.

“yeah, of course,” chan responds immediately. “what’s not to enjoy? i mean, you were spectacular.”

“i could say the same to you, mister ‘no, i can’t wait anymore’.” you joke. chan’s cheeks flush as he scratches the back of his head sheepishly. you dig in your breakfast as chan does the same, the both of you eating in silence. you rest your back on the headboard and you watch chan. his hair is made already and he looks like he’s ready to start the work day. you bite your lip as you look down, your body merely being covered by the duvet. suddenly, memories of last night flood your mind and you sigh softly.

chan catches it immediately.

“y/n?”

“where does this lead us?” you ask, putting down your utensils. “you know, this—“ you motion between the two of you—“whatever this is.” you didn’t know what answer you’re waiting for, but you hope it’s positive.

chan thinks for a moment and the silence is deafening. he puts his hand on your thigh, putting down his plate beside him. “we can tell the office that we’re dating or...” he trails off, looking up at the ceiling, “we can keep this between us for now.”

your eyes widen, coughing as you struggle to come up with an answer. you and chan were together now? chan mentioned the word already, right? his eyes grow worried and he comes over to stroke your back. “did i say something wrong?”

“no, god, no, i just didn’t expect—“

“that i liked you back?” chan furrows his eyebrows. “i think last night was proof enough, baby.”

you blush, covering your face in your hands. chan chuckles softly as he leans over to move your hands away. “we can figure it out as we go,” he hums. “you don’t need to give me an answer right now, okay?”

you nod, your mind in shambles. your breath hitches as chan presses a kiss on your wrist. he looks up at you, “once we’re done eating, we can start the day.” you blink at him and he merely laughs.

“are you even ready for today?” he asks, tilting his head to the side, a smile on his lips.

the question hits you in many different ways, your mind travelling back to the last words you heard from him last night. are you ready to finally be with chan after all these years? you scan his face, taking him in as his smile reaches his eyes. chan looked beautiful and you know you wouldn’t be anywhere else, wouldn’t be with anyone else because all you needed is in front of you and he always has been. both of you were just too stupid to admit it to yourselves.

you straighten your back, clear your throat, throw your disheveled hair behind your shoulder, and smile at him.

“ready as i’ll ever be.”

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