reztaezm

[reztaezm]

these descriptions make me giggle, but it all applies 🤷🏻

[reztaezm]

I was trying so hard to divest from celebrity culture and shift my focus to exclusively fictional characters and then my friends introduced me to ATEEZ so now here I am in a parasocial relationship with eight men who have no idea I exist 🥲

[reztaezm]

𝑺𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝑺𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔, 𝑺𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝑺𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒆

・・・・・・・・・・

𝙺𝚒𝚖 𝙷𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚓𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚡 𝙾𝙲 (𝙵𝚎𝚖!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛)

𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜: smut; dubcon, corruption, algolagnia, exploitation, car sex, unprotected sex (not encouraging, pls use protection), possession and obsession, blood, mystery, mentions of murder and dismemberment, angst

𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: Kim Hongjoong and You.

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 4k

۶ৎ

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐬: 𝟏𝟕 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐥𝐝'𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐦��𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝!

Mercy does not exist with the murderous. Even the devil's blood would run cold at the deeds of the unrecognized culprit. Murder is inhuman by itself, but what do you call it then when one dismembers the dainty fingers of an unsuspecting young woman, using very seemingly particular numbers of measurements to cut, then linearly arranging them by placing one finger is placed half of its length before the next in an alternate pattern, displayed accurately at the very center of the living room’s parameter.

“Only a psychopath would have the time to carry out such an immoral feat… two and a half inches — every single one!”

Even being a mere onlooker induced terror. Whilst what was found at the scene of the crime presented puzzle pieces which were blatant detail-wise, however, none of them fit together to complete a picture. Even turning, twisting, or interpreting the pieces in ways beyond what could be of the ordinary human perception, only pushed them into a deeper conundrum.

“The house was spotless, apart from the corpses — those too, the mom and dad — any unsuspecting person would think they were only sleeping, nightwear and all.”

“But the wounds were rotting beneath them…”

Though, you were no onlooker in this story. Unlike the bystanders who only wait to hear and stir a narrative of their own to tell as if they’re in it. And you have heard a mouthful, from whispers, to the tales told, all from pious mouths. You’ve heard everything, leaving no room for your truth. But you feel as though everyone must be made known of it. But they simply can’t.

Secrets have reasons to be kept. The world, nor myself, would be ready to perceive.

A hand on your shoulder pulls you from the sea of your thoughts to your consciousness’ shore. “Y/n?”

It was only the first hour of the evening, but your eyes were like that of a morning after a sleepless night. “I’m sorry…”

How abouts were you supposed to sleep? Even with your eyes closed, you could still see what had been of their demise.

“Don't apologize, dear. I understand you're having a hard time.” — this woman that spoke to you, is not related to you by blood but was a witness of your waking years in adolescence — she takes the empty seat next to yours, resting her arm over your weak and slumped shoulders. She takes a look at the husk-like state of you, dead eyes staring ahead and face marked with a faint, permanent frown. “I can only imagine what it's like for you… to lose your dearest friend.”

Then suddenly, your eyes cannot discern any light in the room, and you can feel a stinging in them as they begin to water. Because you were, in fact, currently at the wake of your dearest friend’s demise. A funeral being held on the day where everything is red, and feelings are paper-bound — it's the 14th February, and the only red you wore is in your bloodshot eyes. A product of tears they were, and proof of your lone journey at midnight, locked in your grim mind.

“I remember when the two of you would always pass by my shop to cause a little trouble.” the unknowing lady's reminiscing came with the faintest of smiles, that would soon disappear as followed by your utterance right after hers.

“Please… stop.” The pleading in your tone and the audible exhaustion was enough for the lady to silence, averting her gaze, and her arm from you.

“I’m sorry, dear.”

The lady was apparently too trusting of you to hear the conviction hidden in your voice that she would not be able to hear as your silence persists, and this silence soon drove her away, leaving you to, yet again, be the lone watcher of the sleeping corpses.

That was, until footsteps echoed throughout the walls of the community hall that once housed the dead air. The footsteps came approaching you, and stopping at the empty seat to the left of you. There was no word of greeting, instead, your nose welcomed the sweet scent of a tuberose. “Hongjoong.”

Upon hearing his name fall from your breath, he creates greater proximity, feeling your cold skin against his arm which causes him a slight shiver.

“You’ve been here since yesterday morning, they said.” He says as he brings his eyes from the candles and the caskets, to your sunken eyes and dull skin, decorated with a few and faint scratches and scars, some hidden under your sleeve.

“I had to be.” your utterance had a slight crack in pitch, like one when holding back tears.

“I know.” everyone knew.

And despite your grievances and the agony stirring in your heart, you were held suspect to the crime. The family was like one you never had, and wished to have. Your beloved friend was not bound to you by blood, but she was, unlike what was known to others, your sister.

“You still have court tomorrow.” you could only nod in response, swallowing the nothingness in your dry mouth, fighting to keep yourself from falling off the verge of breaking down. Hongjoong notices, like with everything else about you, and makes a wary effort to offer comfort by placing his hand on your shoulder.

His touch, even over the fabric of your wool woven shirt, spread warmth which triggered your tears, finally. “Joong…” the misery in your faint calling of his name was a pinch to his heart.

Whenever he hears your heart breaking, his first instinct is always to hold you. Words weren't necessary to aid his mere presence – somehow, it's just him that you needed. He hushes your faint crying muffled against the crook of his neck, and very delicately runs his fingers through your hair, the tips gently grazing against your scalp as if a stroke to your meek soul.

“I d-don't know what to do…” he watches the quiver on your lips as you continue your weak murmurs of being lost, misguided by your conscience.

“You're young, you don't have to know everything.” his whispered response brings you to a pause, just staring at the grime sitting in between the tiles of the floor. “No one expects you to.” his fingers traced along the stream of tears on your cheek, smearing them as he attempted to erase the marks of anguish, however to no avail. The river would only continue to flow, and overflow.

Hongjoong calls your name through every hushed breath, and every uttered syllable was a balm on your bruised heart, but it was never enough to deafen echoes of that night’s horror. It was a mistake that you claim, but no one else has yet to hear.

No one, but him. “You should rest at home tonight. The relatives will come, right?”

He knew you weren't capable of words for an answer, for even before he felt your subtle nod against his shoulder, he carefully rose from his seat, taking you along with him. He kept you from falling, given the fatigue which brought about your flimsy legs.

“I can stay till the burial…” he sighs at your murmuring and looks at you as he holds you by your shoulders, now able to stand properly.

“Y/n.” stern, yet kind to the ears. He knew your stubbornness was coming from a place of emotional conflict and uncertainty.

Or fear… “Please.” …and remorse.

His brows inched closer to one another. He truly failed to understand what you were pleading for. “You need to rest. You don’t even share the same blood with these people.”

“You don’t understand-”

“No, I understand that they treated you like their own-”

“You don’t understand!”

He pulled his hands back, having them slowly lower to his sides. His face told nothing but bewilderment, wanting to argue, yet not knowing what for, and why.

“Y/n… please get some sleep.” his voice had gone down a mile quiet, trying to calm whatever threat there was.

He had every reason to believe that the threat was just simply… you. Your behavior translates to what he could only discern as compunction — the monster we call guilt. But when this monster consumes another, it’s raw horror, and incomprehensible beyond obscurity.

However, it wouldn’t take long until Hongjoong reached a point of understanding. It’s an unspoken promise. He will always understand. He’s the only one who can.

Your fear of the devil would not be welcomed by people. Not once they find out what you’ve done. You dreaded the ride home, only staring on your lap, though your mind did not work to decipher whatever your eyes saw. It’s busy looking through a memory, at the open window of your bedroom, the withered tree conveniently aligned with the opening, and the shadows. You wondered when that tree would fall and die. That way, the devil won’t reach you.

But then here you are. Standing before the teak door of a place you’re forced to call home. Hongjoong’s hand had the strength you didn’t have to knock loud enough for your mother to answer.

“Y/n-” you walked past her and you’d hear Hongjoong apologize on your behalf, and your mother rejecting his apology, claiming she understands. But it’s impossible for her too. She doesn’t know a thing. She doesn’t know of the hellbound wretch she’s been hosting.

Your feet drew its own map, and the only path you’ve been walking since the tragedy. But now, knowing what midnight held for you in the bleak and forsaken margins of your room. It was once a sanctuary, but ever since him, it’s never seen the light. You could almost hear, heck, feel the weight of his presence following behind you, one that’s renowned to you, a heavy blade against your neck — his claws hovering over you, waiting to tear through your flesh to eat through your insides bit by bit while your heart still breathes with open consciousness.

“Y/n.” your breath gets stuck in your throat when a hand on your shoulders stops you on your tracks. If it weren’t for the warmth of Hongjoong’s voice, your vision would’ve darkened completely.

You were clearly agitated, and oddly so. Still, he couldn’t question since he’s yet to experience your suffrage. His hand finds yours that’s been overtaken by a perpetual tremor. Your hand trembled in his grasp regardless of how firmly he kept his grip. He spares you the sting left by the cold metal of the doorknob, opening the room for the both of you.

Your expression was dead, and stared blank as you sat yourself on your bed. Then suddenly, the light pricks your eyes. It’s been long since you’ve opened it and graced the dejected interior of your room. Hongjoong gets himself seated next to her. Instead of speaking again, he lets your ears rest, gently guiding you down on the soft mattress. For a moment, terrors tied with this very place flew off your mind. He utters words, unintelligible, but somehow lulled you to sleep — or perhaps, this was the exhaustion catching up to you.

Once your eyes fell close, you dreamed, as if it was waiting for you. Here, you sat on your bed, facing the window. Instead of what you would see in your nightmares, the view was of a meadow. You stood up to approach, wanting to see more — the grass was wealthy and vibrant, along with bushes of flowers, butterflies, and your dog. She sat on the grass, like she was waiting. Much to your surprise, she looks up, and directly to you. There was a moment of peaceful silence, and you can see the grass and leaves swaying in rhythm.

But there was not a breeze, none that you could feel, even with your window being left wide open. However, you were aware of this being a dream, a far cry from your reality.

You would look down again, and the dog is still looking, blank like you’ve been, and like a still image. It didn’t take long till it became eerie, even more so that your dog’s been dead, and it’s just been two weeks. Yet she’s there, alive and lifeless at the same time, existing as if her bones, flesh and blood cleaned off to a tee, has been lying in a box underneath your bed.

Then a warm heep of air touches the back of your neck, but this warmth was not of comfort. It’s warmth that burns gradually and lingers in your nightmares.

“My sweet, little cherry…” it was as if he was truly there, the smell of his perfume of datura flowers taunting your nose. And that whisper, his cryptic voice that follows you even in your waking moments.

It felt too real for a dream, or rather, a nightmare. His touch on your waist as if he was molding it with his hands felt just as heavy as it is when your eyes are open. But for once, you were hit with a spunk you never had, turning to face the embodiment of your fears.

The devil remains faceless, however. A complete void is all you see, but his touch is everywhere on your body, like a ghost in your senses. You can feel him on every surface of your skin, and inside you.

Those nights, painful, but an obscure ritual you had no choice but to endure.

The first night, you thought you were asleep, or perhaps in a state of deep delusion. Your window was closed, but not locked. You blinked once, and suddenly, it was wide open. There was little to no moonlight, being blocked by the big oak tree… then by a veiled shadow. He calls you, “Mine… my, my cherry…” a quiet threat in a form of needling melody. You could’ve screamed, you could have fought back, but a keen blade was pressed against your neck, not enough to injure, but enough to paint you terrified. You feared the blade would penetrate through your skin if you made a sound that can be heard in the next room, or if you moved to resist.

His weight caused the mattress to sink a bit more. With the blade, he traced a line down your neck, down amidst your chest. You can feel his nose on your neck, inhaling your scent like a drug. “I’m sorry, my cherry… but you need to realize…” you feel his fingers undoing the buttons of your pajama top. “... you’re mine…” his hand soon touched the bare skin of your chest, at the same time he bit into the skin of your neck, his hand kneaded, then squeezed your breasts almost as if with aggression. His other hand drops the blade and covers your mouth after hearing your mewling. “Be fucking quiet…” but how could you? He bit into your skin, all the while his palms grazed against your sensitive nipple — everything leaned towards ferocity that pleasure was saturated by an ache.

Even through your cries muffled by his hand, and the tears that rinsed your face, there was not a stop. And it would not be a blade that penetrates you. But it was sharp, an agonizing sting against your once chaste walls, forced to stretch open with every snap of his hips. He claims a bruising grip on your thighs to hold them open while his mouth encloses yours to swallow your sobbing and whimpering, and for his tongue to taste deeper. You can smell the filth, the fluids of sex, and the blood from your torn hymen and tensed canal. Your hands clenched and unclenched on his shirt in time with his rutting. It was painful. You were given no time to feel accustomed to the girth of his cock, nor how far it reached into your cunt…

“I wish I could see your beautiful face while you take everything I give you… my love…”

But eventually, you got used to it. With every passing night.

A knock. You were awoken from your excruciating slumber by a knock. You woke up, a mile miserable from when you had slept. The knock was from your mother.

“Have breakfast. Hongjoong has been waiting for you to wake up.”

At your descend from the stairs, you were met with Hongjoong, now dressed differently from yesterday, though you had assumed he spent the night knowing your mother wouldn’t let him drive off in the late night.

“Morning.” oh. His hair is damp. He had greeted you with a small smile, seemingly fresh from a bath.

“Morning.” your murmured reply pushed the corners of his lips just a tad higher.

He was looking at you like he had something to tell. He does so, before you could ask. “You’re coming with me.”

“Hmm?”

He chuckles at the confusion painted on your face. “I found a naturescape. I wanted to keep it for your birthday, but I figured you could use a breather.”

His lilt chuckle, and that smile you trust the most — your heart gave your mind only one answer, especially for its desperate need of security. “Are we going today?”

“Yes, today -I mean, hopefully. Unless you’d rather catch up on sleep?”

“We can go today.”

He eats breakfast with you, your mother already gone to work. He took bites with bliss, relishing in the temporary peace of your disposition. There were no words exchanged, but it’s the silence you needed, clear of agitation and anxiety.

You would soon find yourself looking through the glass of the passenger seat window in his car, and once again, the silence persisted. You were curious as to where this road trip would take the two of you, but your mind was too drawn to the serene sight. It was only natural to the eyes of the ordinary, but yours were almost gleeful at the mere view of the sidewalk after light pouring, a few leaves of several greens sticking to the wet concrete and the poles, while some just astray on the road, or on the hood of the car. Hongjoong couldn’t stop himself from glancing your way as you looked around as if bearing the innocent eyes of a child.

You feel the car come to a stop, and the view on the window becomes a still image of huge rocks on the ground, positioned in such a way that pleases her conscience. Along with that are the tall trees. They were mellow in appearance, which sounds crazy, but it was the fact that your mind was actively comparing it to the tree outside your window. It’s idle, much like the trees before you at this moment, but it’s the very reason why you’re within the reach of peril of the hands that never failed to be the cause…

“Look ahead.” as if he knew, Hongjoong pulls you out of your mirage with a soothing encouragement to shift your gaze elsewhere, to the very attraction he’s brought you for.

It wasn’t a breathtaking view, nor was it extraordinary. It was one you’d see in typical displays of nature in photographs. Though, this proved to be a need you never realized until that very moment. The running water flowed endlessly and without delay unlike viscous blood that dried harshly on wherever it settled. The day had gone bright, but not to a degree that’s unbearably overwhelming, even if the early morning sky threatened a downpour. You could see everything clearly under the hushed sunlight. It was a stark contrast to the nights you’ve been compelled to weather.

“Much better?” Hongjoong’s question drew you to look at him.

The shrouding over your heart was slowly being lifted, and for the first time in a while, a smile would grace your lips. It was small, but no matter the subtlety, Hongjoong’s smile couldn’t get any brighter.

His hand slowly travelled towards yours. His pace was careful, as if giving you time to catch on what he intended to do. And you did. You were taken aback deep inside, not familiar with receiving such compassion. You allowed him to bring his palm against yours, though his hand was not much larger, its warmth was enough to battle the frigidity of your hand. He applies gentle pressure as he squeezes your hand. He’s always been so gentle with you, and you knew it was out of care since being friends for years now, however, his eyes on you at this moment held something else in them.

Perhaps, it’s been affection. “I actually brought you here to tell you something.”

Then you thought, how long has it been? And did he have to wait for you to be this vulnerable before opening up to you? These questions float atop your head, and would then be blown away by his breath as leaned forward to move closer to you.

“I feel like…” he said in a whisper which emitted warm air that delicately touched your skin. “... you know where this is going.”

But did you really? It wasn’t like you anticipated, or was so sure that he‘d continue to lean closer whilst his arm sneaked behind you, his hand navigating the curve of your waist as if he’s always held you in place like this. It was all out of your prospect, how his eyes slowly averted from yours, trailing down to the bridge of your nose to its tip, then on your lips. Physically, you were pale and gaunt from your sorrows, but he made you feel beautiful as he continued to openly express… desire. It would be confirmed when his lips touched yours, timely with the fall of your breaths. It was spontaneous, but alleviating. His compassion seeps throughout, even as your lips begin to dance with each other comes as a soothing moment.

His hand on your waist would begin to move up and down slowly in a sensual caress, and then you’d notice. Your lips were like two ends of a lock, bound to be attached. But this, it felt like they’ve been attached moreover a few times before. You found yourself needing more air, and so your nose breathed him in.

From his notice, he’d break the kiss for a short moment for the both of you to breathe, and for him to murmur. “I want you to know… that no matter what…”

He’s sweet-scented, as always. But this was not of a tuberose, rather, some other flower. The scent was familiar.

“You’re mine.” very painfully familiar.

Your eyes snapped wide open. He’s the one you recognized as your safety, who’s given you more care than anyone else, especially after the death of your soulsister.

“I’m sorry baby, but Yujin just got too close. And who’s she to question my motives?”

There was not a blade you could see or feel, yet your consciousness, nor your body, would have you resist him. And he just revelled in it. He always has. The fear, the unease, the innocence… and now, your inability to reject him. Your heart might be continuing to beat for you to fight back, but with all the losses, he’s shown that he has full control.

So unsuspecting to this blissfully unaware society. “Joong..”

“Yes, my cherry?” he was now speaking against your neck that he was ready to color with his claim of you.

Escape is a complete impossibility. It would be purple and red all over again, and blood on your shirt.

“I knew it… you’ve already given yourself to me… the moment we met…”

And today, you would once again take everything. Face deep into the car seat at the back, your saliva staining its fabric. His hand kept you there, his weight pushing down on your neck from behind as his hand held it, tugging on some of your hair. He’s got your lower half suspended as his cock drilled into you, in a rhythm you could sing asleep.

Because you should’ve known. “I’m right, huh cherry?... You know who owns you, don’t you?”

Tears were shed, but they felt like blood right out of your eyes. He grabs your hair, forcing you to lift your body up as your head is tilted back with force. Your drool dripped down to his bite on your nipple, completely red and wounded from his abuse. The stinging was drawn out by his almost barbaric thrusts.

His pleasure was also yours. It’s the only truth you could accept at that very moment. And you?

“Yes, I-I… I know…” the bones, the fingers, their blood… at the end of the day... they were all for you. “... it’s you...”

Possessions are meant to be claimed after all. You own me.

i kinda hate this :0

[reztaezm]

and yeah, this is for a fic i'm planning on writing. the theme is quite dark ig. (i'm saying it like this because i've read/written way deeper shit lol)

[reztaezm]

and yeah, this is for a fic i'm planning on writing. the theme is quite dark ig. (i'm saying it like this because i've read/written way deeper shit lol)

[reztaezm]

𝙳𝙴𝙱𝚄𝙶¿

・・・・・・・・・・

𝙹𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚈𝚞𝚗𝚑𝚘 𝚡 𝙾𝙲 (𝙵𝚎𝚖!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛)

𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜: smut; oral (m - receiving), riding, late night office sex, unprotected sex (not encouraging, pls use protection), implied hand fetish, implied vein fetish, implied size difference / size kink, humor, lots of profanity and dirty jokes

𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: Jeong Yunho, the helpful I.T. professor, and Y/n, the hot senior programmer

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 6.6k (filler plot??)

۶ৎ

A sigh — it is all Y/n was able to muster in response to the repeated queries of her officemates.

Before she was asked again, she spoke for the first time in twelve hours to cut them off. “No. It still keeps crashing.”

San was lucky they were best friends, because Y/n would’ve pushed him off his chair just for almost letting out a laugh.

“It’s not funny.” Y/n sighs yet again for probably the hundredth instance that day, and San knew, which was what made him finally burst.

Y/n’s been playing hunchback for weeks, ever since she had started programming her video game. It's only a demo project. She hasn't actually come up with a polished plot for the game, which was unfortunate since she only had about two months left till the proposal due.

“I mean, honestly, your game’s the shit.” Y/n had her face buried in her hands when she heard San say that, and she wouldn't lift his head even as she answered.

“You mean, is shit.” her tired and muffled mutter made San shake his head, though still at the verge of laughter.

“Come on, dude. You always tell me that real success takes the longest, to trust the process,” she finally looks at San as he speaks, though not without another sigh falling from her lips. “You’re being a bad example right now, you know that? It's like you being that cool senior I met on my first day in the company is a complete scam.”

Y/n stood up from his chair after long hours of being stuck on it, and it showed from the way she stretched her limbs and arched his back with the quiet snapping of her back. “It is.”

This time, she laughed, but it was weak. San could hear her loss of sleep in the sound. “Whatever. That's just a phase.” San found himself shaking his head once more, chuckling at his friend who looked like she consumed coffee as a water substitute.

Y/n decides to ignore San — who was carefully skimming through her progress — for a moment to give the restroom a visit. It was a solo restroom, even though it's in an office with six people, it wasn't hard to figure why there’d often be an angry knocker outside. Y/n stops to look at herself in the mirror. And just like what she'd expect, her under eyes had darkened, even sunk a little bit. Her lips were slightly chapped, and well, long story short, she's anemic. Her hues were dead all over, even her clothes look like she's just got out of a funeral.

She ties her hair to a sad, lazy ponytail, then opens the faucet, letting the water run over her palms. She splashed on her face for a quick rinse, and an implicit attempt of a wake-up call. Because maybe it was time for her to take a break. At this point, her hands have tremors even when at rest, and she wasn't sure if she had gone past her daily caffeine intake or if she was actually developing a chronic illness. No matter the cause, her mentality opposed the needs of her body, for even with the tiny rants San and her other colleagues would hear from her, she never actually gave up. Like San had said, it was just a phase, it's a silly statement, but it's true.

“I’ve gone through this before. I can do it again.”

After having wiped her face down with her hand towel, she exits the restroom. She appeared to be quite disheveled, with some strands of her hair sticking to the sides of her face and the rest a sloppily tied mess behind her head. She proceeds to her desk with leisurely motions, claiming her seat once more with a yawn, stretching her arms back slightly past her head.

“It’s DoorDash hour,” she mumbles when she happens to read the time on her desk clock. “Can any of you vouch for my coffee, my PayPal is out of serv-”

She was cut off when an unfamiliar hand had set itself on her desk right in front of her. She looks up — and her first thought was San probably wasn’t done meddling with her scripting, but then, she’d freeze in shock.

Or maybe surprise? Am I in one of those k-dramas where some hot fictional guy comes to life? Who the fuck is this fine asset and why is he staring at my computer-

“Looks like you mistyped a code here, miss.”

And what the fuck is that voice… “Excuse me?”

Y/n had zero clue as to who this man was, or why he was standing there — from her observation — looking like a complete meal. It seems like DoorDash hour came earlier for her.

The mystery man chuckles, and as embarrassing it is for her to admit, his voice was stimulating her hormones more than she’d hope. She felt somewhat violated. “Well…”

The low pur in is utterance was enough for her to make a mental note to check out cheap therapy sessions online. And perhaps she had almost gone completely insane when she felt his arms on either side of her. He could feel the warmth of his figure leaning over hers as she sat there with a slight shiver, and at a loss for words.

The sounds of him typing on her keyboard, and the clicking as he maneuvered the mouse, were blocked off by her ears. It was as if his breathing was a song blasting right into her ears, and she was the only one who could hear it.

“Oh, Yunho. You’re here.”

If only Y/n could turn to greet San, and ask him why he’d let this unbelievably attractive man in their office without giving her any sort of warning, not even a text.

“Hey, how’s it been?” Finally, she was able to breathe because this tall stature of a man walked off to greet his old friend, initiating a handshake.

“Been well, nothing crazy.” Their conversation becomes drowned out in the background as she salvages the time to compose herself before the two took notice of her.

“By the way, that's Y/n. She's the hot senior I was talking about.”

Y/n’s eyes widened at San’s mention of her name, and his jarring description of her. She spins her chair around, finally facing the two men, finally facing him again.

San couldn't help but snicker seeing the baffled expression on Y/n’s face, the target subsequent of his prank. “What?”

Y/n sighs at San’s clownery, knowing exactly why he was giggling like a little boy again. “You didn't tell me someone was coming.”

And with that, San smirks. “Don't worry, he's not hostile at all.”

The two men would share a chuckle which would've irritated her, but honestly, she wasn't hearing San.

“Care to introduce yourself?” She held confidence in her tone as she questioned the other guy, and as she waited for his answer, she’d bring herself to meet his eyes for the first time.

“I’m Jeong Yunho. I’m also a senior programmer.”

It might've been a mistake. The guy looked so tidy and proper. His shirt was ironed, and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. Not only that, he also wore black pleated pants that showed off his height well. She didn't even want to stand because she was sure he’d somehow mistaken her for a chair.

She nods and hums in response to his introduction, as if she was interviewing him for a job application. “And why are you here?”

San couldn't hold back from snorting at her current demeanor which was very unlike her daily work attitude.

Yunho catches her shooting a glare towards San, and he couldn't help but smile a little. “San called me. He said you need help with your game’s script.”

Y/n’s brows furrowed. “What?” Then she looks at San, questioning him without a word, because she sure as hell does not remember asking him for assistance.

San only shrugs, again, playing dumb.

“You’ve been working on it for a long time now, correct?” Her head snaps back at Yunho when he asks the question.

To which she answers, “Yes.” with a nod, though she didn't quite catch why he’d ask.

Yunho would then approach her desk, bringing himself closer to her, close enough for her to smell his perfume… “It's due pretty soon, don’t you think?”

The tip of his finger was pointing and pressed against the marked date of her game demo’s deadline, and he was looking down at her. She could've sworn she could already feel his breath on her face. She only nods in response to his question, swallowing the salivation that had amassed in her mouth as her brain processed their proximity.

“You should’ve been at least done with the intro. Do you have a tutorial before the actual game?” She was forced to look away from his face out of sheer embarrassment, but she was at least seventy percent sure that he didn't notice.

“Yeah. The intro runs smoothly, but I can't seem to get this part of the script to work.” She then leans closer to her computer monitor and navigates the said part of the programming with the scroll of her mouse to show it to him.

He hums upon inspecting her work, and then she freezes again. His hand grabbed for the mouse, all while she was still holding it. His hand moved the mouse, moving her hand along with it, being engulfed by his absurdly larger one. She’d be lying if she said she was paying attention to what he was doing to her script, but she tried, she really did.

“I can help you with getting this done. My schedule is flexible for two months, including now.” Yunho leans back a bit to look at her, then gives her a smile.

She couldn't help but think that he's doing all of this on purpose. “Wait,”

He hits her with a “Hmm?” and the slight raise of his eyebrows.

She clears her throat, trying to ignore the fact that everything he did was attractive to her. "How much?”

The few seconds of him as he thought about her question was accompanied by a soft hum with his lips formed into a slight pout. “I don't really have a price in mind right now. But we can negotiate it after we finish your game.”

Negotiate?... After we finish the game? “I mean, you don't have to help me full-time, you know. We could just work through messages-”

“Yeah, but that could make things complicated at some instances.” He casually cuts her off, even shrugging as he straightens up his stance. “Your work can be more precise, and maybe we can avoid bugs, fix the existing ones.”

He then leans sidewards against her desk, using his arm to support his weight. That's when she saw it — the fine lines on his hands. With how close he was, she could see the patterns drawn by his veins. She couldn't help but imagine those hands flexed and its veins protruding as he carried her — a long sigh leaves her mouth, but after hearing his subtle chuckle, she realizes that he was still waiting for her to respond to his offer.

“Yes.”

Yunho raised a brow, finding this response rather interesting.

“Yes?”

Y/n had to rewind her own reply in her mind to figure out what she'd said wrong, or what she couldn't say. “Ah, I meant sure. I can work with that.” She then gives him a smile, thanking her guardian angels in her mind for keeping her from stuttering or stumbling on her own words.

Way later that night, she remained in the office, now left empty and lit by nothing but her computer monitor, and the lights of the hallway outside seeping through the glass panels of the office doors. She leans back against her chair, staring at the blank IDE on her computer monitor. It wasn't really completely blank. She just had this empty space below what she had already done. She yawns, and almost closes her eyes — almost, because her phone began vibrating against her desk and produced a loud blaring to her ears in the quiet confinement of the almost-empty quarter.

She picks up her phone and reads the notification on her lockscreen. Then suddenly, she was wide awake.

jeong yunho (LINE) : hey, heard you're still in the office?

She was slightly confused by the structure of his text. It wasn't constructed like a question, yet it had a question mark, still, she didn't have it in her to ignore him and pretend she's busy when she's currently stuck with her work.

y/n y/l/n: yeah i am

jeong yunho: why?

She was surprised with his reply time, it was almost instant.

y/n y/l/n: i have something to finish

jeong yunho: why didn't you tell me?

i’m omw

What the fuck. She was stunned, and a part of her thought that he must be kidding, and if not then he was out of his mind.

And the conclusion? He’s out of his mind.

Whilst Y/n restlessly tapped her fingers on the armrest of her chair, she hears the shifting hinges of the door, indicating someone's entrance. Despite her double-guessing, he actually came. Not that she's surprised anymore since he did message her beforehand. It's the fact that he insisted that bewildered her. She didn't need him — well, at least not yet. But he could've chosen to leave her alone and rest for himself, especially since it was already past 11pm.

“I didn't think you'd actually come.” She couldn't help but express her thoughts once he was seated beside her.

Yunho gives her a chuckle for that, and replies with a question, “Why not?”

Whether it was a real question or not, she answers him anyway. “Because it's late. You had work too, didn't you?”

He sighs softly and shrugs. He sure does shrug a lot. “Eh, I just sat in the computer lab all day. Also monitored some newbies, but it was light work.” he replies as he moves his chair, and himself, closer to Y/n.

“Monitored newbies?” She grew curious of what he did, she didn't really have much background on him yet, apart from the fact that he's an excellent programmer who earned a master's degree. “What's your job anyways?”

“I’m an I.T. professor.”

Her eyes grew wider at this newfound information. He seemed so young, and too… fine to be a college professor.

Unfortunately, he notices her reaction and chuckles. She'd paid to hear him chuckle over and over again, but she couldn't quite figure out what it meant, cause he might as well be making fun of her in his mind.

“I’m new. I got hired by my university just a year ago.” her mouth forms a small ‘o’ from that follow up info and nods to express her understanding.

She didn't have anything else to say, but she thought he did. So with a brave heart, she turns her head to look at him, only to be met with that overwhelming gaze of his that she's seeing for the first time. He had also moved a little closer, and it made the whole moment feel more intense — for her at least.

“So… how long have you been working for this company?”

She was thankful he had asked that question, or else she would've been stuck staring at him. “Uhh… five, it's been… five years.”

Their eyes were still set on each other, but she didn't really know where this was headed, or what it meant for him. Because for her, the tension is undeniable. And maybe, just maybe, it was fairly sexual. She could feel some heat rising on her cheeks the more she looked at him, and his form was shaped by the grey sweatshirt he had on — the sleeves were rolled up again. It's like he's purposely showing off his arms for her to fantasize about. The fact that his eyes were on her too did nothing but drive the biological reactions of her body, in layman's terms, she was turned on.

He hums in response to her answer and would briefly shift his eyes from hers, down to her lips, then lower. She thought she was starting to hallucinate because of how horny she could be, because from her perspective, it seemed as though he was checking her out.

She then thought that maybe, the tension wasn't one sided after all. “Five years… doesn't sound like a lot, but I’m sure you’ve got… loads of experience, right?”

Y/n wasn't fond of alcohol, but his tone, his voice, it all began to sound like smooth whiskey, and she was slowly getting drunk off of it. “Right.”

Yunho chuckles again, but this time, the sound was drawn deep from his chest. He was looking at her as if she was the only thing visible to him, and that everything else was an empty void.

“You know, when San first mentioned you, I thought you'd be a middle-aged woman, or close to that.” As he spoke to her, his hand would move to the armrest of her chair, resting beside her hand, though not quite touching it. “But then again, you could be, huh?”

Y/n would make a sound, somewhere close to a laugh, though her brows were adorably knitted closely. “I'm in my mid twenties.” Yunho smirks at that, most likely because she was speaking in a much softer tone now, which contrasted the first voice he heard from her.

“I can see that.”

Internal and hysterical screaming. Her mind and body were reacting in such irrational ways, not only from the way he was speaking to her, but with how she was able to confirm that he was indeed checking her out.

“San only referred to you as the ‘hot senior’ in your office... but I don't think he meant it as a joke.” He said this, all while spending almost a minute staring on her lips. “All the proof I need is right in front of me.”

She was stuck, yet again — unlike being stuck with her game’s programming, she actually had a plan of actions in mind, in fact, there might be too much to them. None of them would fall under the typical human response, but was she really gonna play dumb and act like she isn't being ogled by the man only inches apart from her?

Her eyes wandered down to his arms again, and his hand was right next to hers. She knew how skilled those fingers are with handling computers. What more if he was handling her. She slowly brought her gaze up, looking over his body, even fully covered, she saw how fit and healthy he was, particularly on the area of his pecs. Shit.

Knowing that he was pretty much undressing her with his eyes, she was possessed with sudden boldness, speaking with more nerve on a provocative note. “Yeah? And what makes you say that?”

Maybe she sounded too bold for her physical condition, because she was quite sure she’d looked gaunt after continuous shifts, only taking ten-minute naps max, and having a staring contest with her computer monitor to the point that she’s taken in the eyes of a drug addict.

But maybe, in some way she couldn’t see, she radiates allure, particular to Yuhno. “I don’t know,” He chuckles a little at himself. “Maybe I have a thing for burnout.”

Then he lifts his hand from the armrest, pointing a finger and using it to move a stray strand of hair that went over her eyes, and tucks it behind her ear. The whole time, Y/n thought about where else his fingers would wander and stop. There was no stopping for the tips of his fingers brushed against her cheeks as he moved down his hand. He moved his hand as if he was taking his time to feel the texture of her skin, and despite the feather-light contact, it became her sensory’s hyperfixation.

“Or maybe I just have a thing for you.”

Y/n’s lips slowly curved up into a slight smile, impossible for Yunho to miss given how close he’s gotten. And he’s slowly moving closer, and closer. His movements were subtle, but she could feel it — the heat rose the closer he got. Her hands moved by themselves, one of them holding onto the wrist of his hand that now held her face. Resisting was no longer in consideration for her, leading her to give in to her temptations, tracing the veins and the muscles of his forearm and feeling it with the pads of her fingers.

Yunho had gotten close enough for the tip of his nose to lightly press against the side of her face, right next to her ear, smelling the faint fragrance of her perfume and the natural scent of her body mixed with a bit of sweat and the reeks of the office environment. He couldn’t help but breathe her in.

“You really thought I wouldn’t notice?” He murmurs right into her ear, the same time his sly hand moved in between her back and the backrest of her chair, slowly settling his palm against the curvature of her waist.

She’d gulp, and nervously so. However, her lust would soon overshadow any other emotion she had brewing in her.

“What?” — Yunho found her feigned cluelessness a tad amusing, yet adorable.

If anything, it’s only egging him on. “Where do you want my hands?” He’d elicit a soft gasp from her once his other hand moved to her thigh and began to rub it over her jeans, moving it up slowly, then down again, but not reaching her knee. His lips gently grazed against her skin as he moved them below her ear, placing a soft kiss there and whispering to her, “Tell me…”

“Tell me what you want…” His hand began to caress and lightly squeeze on her thigh, even moving his hand higher and closer to her crotch, but never actually making contact with it to tease her. “Who knows?… I might just give it to you.”

Her breathing grew heavier, and irregular. But so was Yunho’s as he continued to gently stamp his lips against her skin, creating a trail down her jaw. 

“You really wanna know?” Y/n surprises herself since she was already finding it difficult to breathe normally for her to speak.

Yunho moves his head back, but just enough to see her face. “Why else would I ask, babe?”

You asked for this. Y/n knew exactly what she wanted, and she was ready to blame him for what she was about to tell him.

“I want to suck you off.”

Yunho almost choked on his own saliva. It wasn’t the answer he was anticipating at all — not that he was complaining since his dick throbbed in his pants from hearing that. 

“Are you sure?” 

Y/n doesn’t think twice about nodding and confirming her desire,and getting on her knees in front of him. 

“Shit.” Yunho mutters under his breath upon the sight of her on her knees, looking up at him like a hungry little kitten. He used his eyes to trace the curves along the sides of her body, and the curve that shaped her breasts.

She then sat up and brought her hands on his knees, slowly moving them up his thighs as she leaned closer to the growing erection in his pants. But just as she’s grabbed the waistband of his sweatpants, he stops her by grabbing her wrists. She looks up, averting her eyes from the bulge that was dearing to poke through the fabric of his pants.

Yunho breathed in for a moment, brushing his thumbs against the back of her hands as he held them and spoke. “Are you sure-sure that you’re down for this?”

She found it funny that he’d stop her to ask again, that’s why she chuckled a little. The only thing stopping her from entirely engulfing his cock is his sweatpants, and boxers — or briefs. Her eagerness was painfully obvious by then.

“Why else would I be on my knees?” — there was a slight hitch in Yunho’s breath when he realized she was teasing him, imitating the way he had spoken to her earlier. 

And so, he’d lose his grip on her wrists, letting her tug down what was restraining his wood. His cock darts out, and Y/n catches it before it hits his stomach. She was so tempted to just gobble him up, but as her eyes scanned the size of him, she was swallowing her spit. Even the veins on his cock protruded. 

Yunho caught the way her thighs become magnetized to one another as she held his dick. He couldn’t help the groan that escaped him when her hand stroked up his length, and instinctively, his hand made a handle out of her hair. She stared up at him, surprised how much of an effect that one move had on him. She, of course, did the only rational thing and stuck out her tongue, leaning forward to have a taste of him.

The moment her delicate tongue made contact with his tip, his fingers would become more entangled with the strands of her hair whilst his other hand lifted his sweatshirt high enough to expose his toned stomach. Then her lips parted wider, wrapping around the head, and slowly enveloping his cock she lowered her head — and fuck. He’s been accustomed to his hand for a while now, and the heat of her mouth was driving only made his dick harder than it already was, if that was even possible. Whichever way the sensations he was feeling were to be described, one thing was clear in his mind — he was receiving the best head of his life.

He didn’t even ask her to, nor have thought about it, but her tongue moved with precision, she was expert with swirling her tongue around the head of his cock just as she was with typing down codes. He’d find himself tugging rather harshly on her hair when she sped up the bobbing of her head. That, paired with the sounds of slurping and plopping, and his view of his dick disappearing into her mouth repeatedly had him losing the point of breathing. He’s got his head thrown back, fighting to keep his eyes open to see how she devours his dick and drives him to the brink of insanity.

“How are you so good at this?” His words came out in labored breaths, still crudely holding onto her hair. 

She hears him, but doesn’t pause one bit. She only ends up doing more. She’d begun to suck harder, and the second time her skilled and warm mouth constricted around his cock, he almost blew his cum into her throat. And she felt it. She felt his cock twitching against the walls of her oral cavity.

“F-Fuck-slow down for a s-” — The fuck not. Why would she when she’s so close to fulfilling the little fantasy she’s had ever since he came into the office in those sweats.

He kept twitching in her mouth, and her hair was bound in a twisted and tangled mess in his hand, the other nearly breaking the armrest of the chair he sat on with how tightly he’s been holding onto it the whole time. His hand moves by itself and pushes her head down, the same time his hips snapped up, and he would end up shoving his cock’s head deeper into her throat as his cum erupts into it. 

The fluid coats the enclosure of her mouth as she pulls herself off — and with a mass of struggle. She wasn’t able to swallow everything like she’d hope, but she was nearly choking. She thought his cum would drip out of her nose because there seemed to be so much of it.

She used the ends of her sleeves to wipe around her lips that were glossed with her spit and his cum, and Yunho watched her as she did so. He was amazed by her talent, for a lack of a better word.

“Do you usually blow guys in your office?” She nearly chokes, again, not only on his cum, but with her own spit as well.

“Are you serious?” The ends of her brows were nearly touching as she questioned his words.

“Hey, hey — I’m just trying to say I’ve gotten this good.” A breathy chuckle sounds from his mouth, and he uses his hand to brush his hair back. “Until you, of course.”

Y/n’s head tilts to the side as their eyes meet, one smirk mirroring the other. “The last time I gave someone head was in highschool.”

Yunho found it hard to believe and somewhat amusing. If he had known her then and he knew she sucked that well, then he would’ve had her to himself up until now.

“So, what? You took a degree in blowjobs?” He receives a rather weak blow against his knee from what he had said, but he only chuckles. 

“A master’s.” And she played along anyways.

The room was filled with soft laughter, before the two would end up locking eyes like their pair had magnets drawn to the pair of the other. It was oddly sweet and warm in Y/n’s chest, as she could see how the lines of his eyes softened along with his gaze. But that was until she’d look down.

“Would you mind hopping on the table? Or are you in for a ride?”

Of course. They weren’t done. Thankfully he’d asked, because then, she was suddenly reminded of the pool in between her legs. 

Instead of giving him an answer, she’d undo her pants. And before taking a step forward, Yunho had already reached for her hand, carefully pulling her closer with a stupid, sly grin on his face. His eyes were locked on the damp part of her panties. He could see the imprint of her clit, and the slit over her panties from how the fabric stuck to her because of how wet she was. He could also smell the scent of her slick, from which he felt his cock twitch in response.

She didn’t know it, but even back when his cock was still settled in her mouth, he had already been thinking of how he’d get back to her, and how her pussy would be. He was almost certain she’d milk his cock so well. He would have had her bent over her desk, but she was already on top of him and this, of course, was nothing for him to complain about. She lowers a bit of her weight, causing his tip to rub against her clothed clit. 

He needed to feel it, before anything else. And so his hand reached down in between their bodies, fingers immediately making contact with the wet patch on her panties, rubbing circles on her clit twice. She thought right about his hands and those lengthy fingers. They knew exactly what to do with her. She held onto his shoulders tightly when she felt the fabric over her hole being pushed to the side. The tip of his finger dipped, making some of her fluids drip down to his palm. Then he pushed it in. He feels her gummy flesh surround and hug his finger, but before he delved deeper, he adds another. For a moment he watches how her cunt took his fingers, then looks up to see her sweet little face — teeth sunk into her bottom lip and eyelids heavy as he slowly pumped his digits in and out of her tight little hole.

“Are they as good as you imagined they would feel?” His voice was quiet and thick, breath hot against her face as he whispered to her. “You’re strangling my fingers, babe… hope you don’t…  suffocate my cock.”

She was slowly going mental the more he drilled her fingers into, having found her thoughts emptied of any rational once and replaced with every lustful word he speaks to her. He had been holding her stable with his other hand that resides just above her ass holding her up.

“Tell me you want my cock baby…’’ There was a pleading in his tone, gravelly yet almost desperate, murmuring as his fingers seeked deeper into her.

“Y-Yun… Yunho…” 

Her short and faint whispers of his name had his hips bucking up without his full consciousness. “Say my name again and ask for it… ask for my cock, baby.”

It was difficult for her to even construct a reply because of her soft gasps turning into quiet moans.

“Yunho… can I have your c-cock? Please… fuck… fuck me…”

The thing was all for show, to tease her and himself, stalling their climax a little bit more, because he knew this wouldn’t be the typical sex for him.

He quickly withdraws his fingers from her to which she’d whimper from, but then his hands grasped her hips and lifted her so that she was positioned right above his erect dick. Her hands clenched on his sweatshirt that he would swiftly take off and throw some place on the floor. Her hands roamed his body like a map, feeling his bare skin, and the firmness of his muscles that were only in her imagination almost an hour ago. To make it even, he sneaks his hands into her shirt, and underneath the cups of her bra, finding her breasts.

“Can you take this off?” He asks her as he fondled her mounts, thumbs toying with her stiff nipples.

She could only nod whilst she kept her lip bitten down with the sounds of her whimpering. She slowly pulled the clothing up and over her head, leaving it to fall on the ground. But while she does so, Yunho’s hands move elsewhere — to her waist, holding her stable as he shifts his hips, driving his tip into her opening. He looks up to watch her face as he moves his hips again, then holds hers to guide her down to meet him.

There was a slight tremble in his body as he bottoms out. Her cunt swallowed his cock whole and enveloped it tightly, so much so that he couldn’t help but throw his head back. 

“So fucking good… Y/n…” He kept his thrusts slow at first, guiding her movements until she was moving on her own.

Their pace gradually quickened, and he’d take a peek down, watching how her pussy took him.

“You’re taking my cock so well,” “Your cock feels so good…” — the two had spoken at the same time, which he found to be comical, but under pornographic means.

“Yeah?” He smirks and fucks harder into her, but then his smirk would fade upon realizing how close he actually was to cuming.

But it could only be perfect timing, because you were already clenching around him, as close to finishing just as he was. And as if it was meant to be, they were looking into each other’s eyes as he continued driving his cock into her, until he felt it threatening to seep out. He pulls himself out of her by lifting her up and settling her on his lap just as she came. His cum spurted onto her stomach and dripped down in between them.

The two pants in chorus, foreheads pressed together as they kept their gazes bound to each other. 

“The script…” Yunho chuckles at the first words she’d utter after taking her fill of his dick, as if she didn't do just that. 

“It can wait.” 

“I can't.” She was about to hop off of him, but he kept her in place. “Another round can wait-”

She was shut off by his lips, moving against her in a gentle glide, and she reciprocated, because who the hell wouldn't?

The kiss, however, was quite light-hearted, and thank heavens because she thinks she wouldn't be able to take him without a mental check-up. 

When the kiss was broken, Yunho moved the chair they were on closer to her computer.

“Yunho, maybe you’d want to put your shirt on at least?” Y/n was caught off guard by a wee bit because of his suddenness. 

“Why? You're not enjoying the view anymore?” He receives a hit on his chest for that, and he’d only cackle his ass off. “Now let's see that bug you were talking about.”

Yunho scrolls through the source code to scan for the error, and Y/n just rests herself against him, staring at his face shone over by the high luminance of the computer monitor.

“It's a mandel. I need to rewrite everything.” Her mumbling caught his full attention. And he’d smile. 

He brings his face closer to hers, letting the tips of their noses touch as he teased her. “Maybe for you. But if I end up fixing it without redoing the script, you owe me one.” She giggled quietly, and continued to stare at him, which he’d eventually call her out for. “I don't get what's so funny, miss.”

She went silent for about a minute, and Yunho thought he had to speak again until she beat him to it. “You know, besides that bug, I’ve been thinking about…” She pauses, but before Yunho tries to speak again, she finishes her thought. “You. The whole day ever since you arrived.”

She watches his reaction, which would just be a silly grin from him. 

“And yes, I fantasized quite a lot. You were in the way of me trying to figure out how to fix that bug-”

“Oh, so it's my fault?”

“Yes!”

They both paused for a few seconds, before eventually laughing at how the situation turned into sheer ridiculousness. 

“What can I say, I'm irresistible.”

“Oh, shut up.”

The two would rest from the jokes and the light bickering, and Yunho would continue to operate the IDE, checking and editing what was needed to be of her script. The silence became their comfort as time progressed, and both bodies basked in it, serving as the only warmth in the air-conditioned office — considering that they were both still half-naked. 

Though, curiosity always beats the cat. He feels the warmth, becoming a heat low in his stomach. Maybe it was unusual, or maybe it was because Y/n still lies almost completely bare on top of him.

“So… did we do everything you fantasized about?” His voice was once again in a raspy whisper as he spoke, moving his hand along her thigh, and-

She snores. 

He immediately stops in his tracks and looks over her slumbering form. He knew she was tired from work. And he figured that them fucking was going over her limits. He continued the work he had initially come for, and upon finding the bug they were previously debating on, he chuckles. She was right. 

It was a shame. He sounded too confident for his own good, but at the same time, she admitted to being distracted, not exactly refuting his claims against her classification of the bug. It would take a lot of time to configure, more work and less breaks. But he's here now, with his little boss lady resting on top of her. This seemed to be her first actual break in a while as he's observed from her manner of snoring and heavy-like-a-corpse body laying on him. If this was how she preferred to have her breaks after all, then who was he to deny her of it. 

He definitely doesn't mind giving her head in return for her next break. 

part 1 (??)

[reztaezm]

_______________ ↻ ⌂ ⋮ _________________

; 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝.

[ ✪ - shortfic, ☆ - longfic, ⚡︎ - drabbles, ⴵ - reactions/scenarios, ☻ - comedic, ⚠︎ - nsfw, 𓍼 - angst, 𖹭 - fluff, ⚯ ͛- fantasy, ⚛︎ - sci-fi, 𖤐 - horror/murder/mystery ]

▶ menu:

✪⚠︎𖤐𓍼 | ⎙ Sweet Scents, Sweet Sense.

▶ menu:

✪⚠︎ | ⎙ Catastrophe, in theory.

▶ menu:

✪⚠︎☻ | ⎙ Debug.

▶ menu:

⁴⁰⁴ 𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚛¡: 𝚗𝚘 𝚊𝚟𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝

▶ menu:

⁴⁰⁴ 𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚛¡: 𝚗𝚘 𝚊𝚟𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝

▶ menu:

⁴⁰⁴ 𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚛¡: 𝚗𝚘 𝚊𝚟𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝

▶ menu:

⁴⁰⁴ 𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚛¡: 𝚗𝚘 𝚊𝚟𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝

▶ menu:

⁴⁰⁴ 𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚛¡: 𝚗𝚘 𝚊𝚟𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝

_____________________________

☷ ⓕⓩ ⋮

_____________________________

[reztaezm]

ℭ𝔞𝔱𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔬𝔭𝔥𝔢, 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐲. 𝑨 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒅𝒚 𝒃𝒚 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑺𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒘𝒂.

・・・・・・・・・・

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚂𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚑𝚠𝚊 𝚡 𝙾𝙲 (𝙵𝚎𝚖!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛)

𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜: smut; masturbation (m) + detailed fantasies, oral (f - receiving), impulsive initiation, unprotected sex (pls use protection), mutual loss of virginity, desire and obsession, internal conflicts, scholastic themes, pining, denial, character development (?)

𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: Park Seonghwa, as an academic freak, and Y/n as an anomaly.

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 5k+, plot bearing

۶ৎ

“Swallow your pride, or get swallowed by it.”

But such words are simply too lowly for him to acknowledge. He is grace, by definition. He dwells on the faint chatters —not even whispered— of his jealous peers. Only gold was allowed to touch his fair skin. The tokens which told everyone that surrounded him. He is an example of best.

Detached, he is indeed. But many believe that he is just way too caught up and stuck in that huge head of his. No one's ever taken a peek, but they all shared one opinion. It must be his ego driving his sanity.

Unfortunately for the tellers of the tattletales, Seonghwa lacks something everyone else has too much of.

“Do you not care?” It wasn't his fault.

It's not his fault that for some reason, some random girl still found him an ounce likable. Everybody despised him, and why shouldn't she. Why wouldn't she?

He stared at her meticulously crafted letter that he was subjected to holding approximately seven minutes. ‘Her handwriting is pretty, at least…’ — this was the only thought he had. He couldn't feel anything besides pity, especially for the thought, and the sickening shimmery designs on the letter — he thought it was unnecessary. He thought everything was unnecessary, even her feelings.

He didn't reply to her, and instead handed the letter back to her. There wasn't a single muscle on his face that moved despite the sight of the girl’s eyes watering.

People were watching, and that day, he was painted a monster. Not only cold, but unremorseful, without a doubt.

Still, he had no care to spare for their opinions. He does not attend university for such senseless things.

Amidst the rise of gossip, all he hears is rolling ball of his pen as it glides against the fine and pricey paper of his leather journal. His scrupulous writing only deserves quality materials after all.

He was hated by the population of the studious, but they do not reach his level anyways. But he was treasured by his professors, and the university itself. And why not? He is the standard for the image the institution wishes to uphold. And they believe he had it all in him to maintain this perfection — holding the highest GPA, no set-backs, no distractions, no immodest hobbies or sidelines.

It was, at that point, hard for him to mess things up. It would take a tragedy, a catastrophe to break down what has been built of him. Though, said catastrophes come in many forms he knew. And everyone has their own criteria of what falls under what’s considered a catastrophe.

He had noted this to be the greatest anomaly of his life. Never did he think it would be possible for a girl to check every box in that criteria.

Number one: sudden and unexpected.

No one was ever late to Mrs. Chang’s Epistemology. Students could barely stomach her glare whenever her lectures would be interrupted by the click of the door as it opened and closed.

A daring soul went thirty-five minutes into the lecture. But to everyone’s surprise, the late-comer was a sight for sore eyes.

Seonghwa's first instinct was to quietly scoff at such irresponsibility, but he couldn't bring himself to do so. For the first time in his life, he is amongst the crowd, and this girl — whoever she may be, is the show.

What was a stopper for many was Mrs. Chang’s reaction, which was none. She could care less about the beautiful late-comer, or the whispers that came after said late-comer had gone inside the lecture hall.

The nameless girl would find herself a seat, far into the back.

Smart. Seonghwa had thought it was a smart move. Because it would be such great disrespect to the professor if they all had their necks twisted looking back to see the late-comer. And so he thought she was smart, getting rid of such nosey eyes.

And he was no nosey-eyed dirtbag, and he had the right to look. He was distracted, and it was new to him.

He dreaded the fact that he wasn't able to be mentally present at the latter half of Mrs. Chang’s lecture. And distracted? He had never been in the proceedings of his studies. It's such a shame for him. But nobody knows yet. Nobody had noticed.

Nobody knows how he had stared at her side profile, and how his eyes traced the point from the top of her head, down to her lips. Her lips are where he found it hard to avert his gaze. As if every rule of ethics had exited his brain, he was looking as if they were in an art exhibition, she was an exclusive piece.

He thought it was such a cliché. This was just another girl. Yet, she remains as the only problem he couldn't solve as of late.

After Mrs. Chang’s lecture, he thought it would've ended there. This marks another first for him — he had thought wrong, for the first time.

Because number two, catastrophes are disastrous.

Seonghwa could convince himself that peace only comes in the library, in a space at a more hidden area which he marked as his sanctuary. It was a deserted corner. No chairs, no tables or whatnot, but it was peaceful. The carpeted floor was spacious enough for him, and any noise coming from the other students occupying the library were drowned out from where he sat.

Imagine his confusion when one particular noise seeped through. A soft humming of a girl. He thought she wouldn't see him, and so he didn't call her off for the noise alone. He brought his eyes back on the book he had been reading, but his focus was on the possibilities.

The humming minimized with every second he could count. But at the twentieth, he could hear it right next to his ear…

“Hell!”

The girl was taken aback by his reaction. She didn't know him yet, and she found his hostility unreasonable.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked him whilst looking into that indifferent gaze of his. “Are you mad?”

He scoffed at her, but fell to a pause once taking in her full image. Of course he would be mad… if it wasn't her. He knew it would be best to respond and not seem like an idiot that could only stare. After having cleared his throat, he manages to utter a reply to her. “No.”

“I’m Y/n.”

His brows furrowed at the suddenness of her introduction. He didn't ask for her name, neither did he look like he was curious. Or maybe he did.

“I’m Seongh-”

“Park Seonghwa.”

She was shaking his world, unknowingly, but he couldn't do a thing about it. He was curious as to how she knew of his name- “Your nameplate.”

He gulped and almost lost his breath when she knelt on the ground where he sat and leant forward. She was way too close for his comfort, but no matter how much he thought of stopping her and pushing her away, his hands remained locked to his sides.

She had only reached for his crooked nameplate, fixing how it was pinned on his blazer.

“There, that's better, huh?” as if he was paying attention to his nameplate at all.

When she had shifted her eyes from his blazer to his face, she what met with the unexpected. He’s staring at her, in a way that would be abnormal for those who knew him. But she didn't. It was her first time interacting with this man.

“Are you okay?”

And it was his first time as well. His first time not having any self-control.

He knew he could get things done timely, but he never knew he was capable of doing something within a second, like having his hand at the back of her head, and his lips pressed against hers. His other hand was right above her hip, and he was tempted to let it wander lower.

Until she pulled away.

In that situation, it was only human to be conflicted, perplexed, or terrified even.

As it turns out, she isn't any of those. To which Seonghwa ticks box number three: catastrophes cause great damage.

He was no longer in the right headspace. Never did he envision such a scene.

He was finally holding her by the hip, because she had leaned in to kiss him again, more intensely. Seonghwa had only read it in books, or seen it in movies, but his lips led their kiss as if he had done this a dozen times over. She could feel herself being pulled closer by his inexperienced hands, and so she moved closer.

How close she was would’ve drawn the line if not for how Seonghwa was devouring her mouth. She couldn't help the small whimper that escaped her as his tongue delved deeper. His hair became her handle, and her thighs clenched around his hips. He doesn't know why, but the way she tugged on the strands of his hair wrapped around her fingers shot blood straight into his cock. She felt it. She felt him hardening below her clothed core. The sensations were foreign for both parties, and it was their hormones that drove their next actions.

Seonghwa broke the kiss, wanting to catch his breath and check on his sanity for a moment. But his cock was aching, so much so that it throbbed when he saw the look on her face. She looked high, in the most beautiful way possible. Her eyelids lie low, lips parted slightly, and skin tinted with a hint of red and warmth.

He couldn't help his hands from sliding down her soft thighs, squeezing on it with a force that made her whimper again. Oh how he loved the sound. His fingers sneaked past the end of her skirt, and underneath, slowly trailing up till he felt the fabric of her panties. He let out a low hum deep in his chest at the feel of the fabric, it was ordinary, but knowing what was underneath made him want to forget who he was.

His hand shifted to her front, using the pads of two of his fingers to feel the wetness that had formed over the fabric. His other hand remained on her thigh as if to hold her in place as he conducted his experiment, rubbing a circle on her soaking clit. She could feel it all too well since her slick had thinned the fabric for how wet it had become, and it was nothing but overwhelming pleasure.

She had her head slumped over his shoulder, and he could hear her attempts of suppressing her soft whimpers. She sounded helpless, even though he knew she was liking it as much as he was, if not more. He wanted to hear more and every sound possible for him to draw from her prey-like mouth.

He had already felt it. The tips of his fingers caught a glimpse of her soft and sensitive flesh beneath her panties when they had slipped past it. But their moment was put to an abrupt stop.

He heard it first — the footsteps were soft against the carpeted floor, but he had been way too familiar with the sound, and weight of whoever’s presence that came with it.

He hadn't taken his hands off of her, but he told her to, “Stand up.”

Which she did. Because she felt it too. If she wasn't coming, someone else was.

Her legs were slightly wobbly as she stood, but she was able to find composure and hastily pulled down on her skirt that had ridden up, then reached up her head to pat down her hair, which was incomparable to the mess that was on top of Seonghwa's head. He ran his hand over his hair, brush through it with his fingers. He knew he couldn't bring it back to its old and uniform style, but he didn't sweat it.

The two froze when they saw the librarian pass by, seemingly busy with her work. And thank God she was, because if not, she would've seen the tall tent on Seonghwa's trousers.

He still hadn't calmed himself. Even now that he had his head shot down and stared on the floor, all he could think of was the supple skin of her legs, and her weight on top of him. And she was just so pliable with his touch that he wanted to see her turn into mush in his hands.

But reality echoed in his ears when he felt the vibration of his phone. She was still standing there, probably waiting for him to say something. Something soon turned into nothing, as for the next minute, he was already heading out of the library.

Because fourthly. She had caused him personal ruin.

He had missed a class, again, for the first time. This was a loss that caused him frustration, but only less than he’d hoped. It would take a tragedy before one declares themself ‘screwed’, however, this one bump in his strict and once rigid schedule was enough for him to conclude otherwise.

He sat on a bench of an open hall, open to the eyes of onlookers. He wasn't usually sitting on these dirty seats, looking flawed and out of his mind.

Such a rare sight it was — his eyes shut, head thrown back, brows drawn upward. He was quite visibly dealing with a dilemma, one that boggles his mind beyond his comprehension which was once impossible. He had no hypothesis as to what had gone wrong with him.

It's his first confrontation with fear. Is it solely her existence that had pushed him this far? And could it be any more specific… like the way she looked at him when he touched her? Or the sound of her voice when she spoke, or when she was being pleasured by his hands? Or was it… the figure he couldn't see beneath her sweater, but couldn't help but picture in his mind?

She was such an aberration, unwilling introducing him to his worst and best firsts. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to despise her. He has yet to figure it out, because he didn't believe that beauty was capable of such destruction.

But… maybe hers is the weakness he's been waiting to discover. Now he’s at number five in the checklist. The catastrophe that is she, is destructive.

He would go on a few days without any direct encounters with her, which was deep down disappointing, for him. He thought he'd eventually find a way to live with it, to see his days in campus without ever feeling her delicate skin, her fingers entangled and pulling on his well conditioned hair, or the viscous slick that he wished had coated his fingers so that he could give her a taste — such thoughts had become the inevitable for him and had led him to do things he used to never spare a thought on. An innocent mind, these days, could only be that of a child — which Seonghwa obviously wasn't. Though, he was never to be someone who's perverted, even when he's in the peace of his own room, all alone.

It was merely a whisper in his conscience but in the quiet of his alone time, it shifted into a loud ringing in his ear.

The dim and warm light of the lamp on his nightstand would only add to the height of the temperature — not of his room, but rather, his body. When left alone with his thoughts, without a book for his restless eyes, or his journal and pen for the downpour of his thoughts, all that’s left for him to shake off the feeling, was to close his eyes, and lean back against the headboard of his bed. His hand slips underneath his blanket, and down his crotch. With only a vision of her face, his cock was already straining his pajama pants. A hiss fell from his lips when he palmed himself. He only used to imagine being a rocket scientist, or the most influential politician, fantasies past current reality, but this new fantasy of his held the highest possibility and is the closest to his reality.

He has yet to feel everything, but he could imagine vividly. The heat of her cunt engulfing his hard length — he knew well that his hand wrapped firmly around his erection would never be enough to simulate the feeling, but he must bear with it. His hips rocked in an upward motion against his hand, going rather slow, but purposeful. His head was leant back over the wood of the headboard, and his eyes were shut tight as he continued to fuck into his hand, with the mental image of her figure above him, thighs trembling, nails digging deeper into his shoulders the more she took his cock as he held her in place by the handles of her hips.

He sped up the pace and intensity of his thrusts wanting to reach euphoria, with only a vision, and the reference of a memory. He wonders if with the tightness and warmth of her cunt, he’d finish quicker. He wondered how it felt for his cock to be strangled by her pretty little hole — he wanted to see the flesh, to feel it clenching and fluttering around his fingers, around his dick, and to taste every drop of her arousal he could draw out from her.

And there it was again, the ringing in his ear. He could feel his blanket sticking to his tip because of his cum. But imagination could only carry one’s desires to its limit, imagine his disappointment when his hand continued to stroke his softening cock and he’d open his eyes, only to be met with emptiness.

A muttered curse leaves his lips at the mess he has created beneath his blanket. It’s a filthy deed, and very unlikely of him. And now, the guilt of having masturbated with the thought of an unknowing girl — maybe he’d be more at ease if she had thought of him too, and suffered from her desires with the likes of him. But would he still be sane if he’d hope for such an instance? And what if she hated him now? What if her feelings in relation to him were a complete opposite of his? — every statement he had formulated in his mind had their possible positives and negatives. However, he only tends to be realistic. Based on what he could infer from the nature of humans, the answers to his questions would more likely lean towards the negative.

Who was he to her anyways? Besides that, everyone already sees him to be a quiet narcissist. For the most part, he was certain that the slander that surrounds his character floating around campus would be enough for her to deduce him into a perverted jerk. For the latter part, there’s a small spark of hope that she’d pose deaf against such assertions.

But everything is just his intelligent guess, his inferences. And in that one class he shared with you, he hoped you weren’t trying to avoid him, or implicitly push him away.

His conscience would eat him up everytime he caught a glimpse of her grace, one he once had and flaunted. Now he was unkempt. Stuck in a storm that chose to only burden him.

“Seonghwa,”

A short, yet evocative gasp escapes him. The voice that haunts his dreams, either asleep or awake, whether it be daylight or the dark of night, was now calling for him. And it’s no longer fantasy.

The halls have been emptied, seemingly for the reason that most have classes in that hour. Even him, yet, he wasn’t in a lecture. There he stood amidst the secluded hallway, and in front of him was the embodiment of his temptations.

“Are you avoiding me? After that?” He understood what ‘that’ was referring to too, but he couldn’t quite interpret how upset she seemed into any reasoning.

“No-” “I don’t understand you.”

No one does, not even himself. “Y/n… please listen.”

He had never said ‘please’, not for anyone. She doesn’t verbally reply, but the look in her eyes was enough to tell him to speak before she loses the point of waiting.

“I didn’t- I don’t want to force you into anything.” She found his explanation, and the slight hesitancy in his speech to be ridiculous to some degree, and he saw it from the wrinkles that appeared on her face in reaction to his statement.

“I was waiting for you, because I didn’t know what to do with myself either.”

Seonghwa doesn’t know what yearning was supposed to sound like, but it seems like this was another first for him. He’s been masking his own feelings to be violated by her influence, but after witnessing her disposition towards their situation, maybe they were one with what they felt.

“I missed you.” he finally admits, to her surprise.

Words were lost in the air, and she took one step forward, before he was driven to seize her with quick steps.

He held her as if she was his possession, wasting not a second to take claim of her lips afterwards. And it was at that moment that his hypotheses were proven wrong. She had, not even a thought, no signs of apathy or resistance. She clutched onto his neatly ironed shirt, pulling him closer, even if there was no longer room to be closer.

His hand on the back of her shoulder slowly slid down, tracing the curve of her back, down to her rear which he began to firmly knead with his hand. He caught the soft moan he had induced from her with his mouth, swallowing the sounds that were a product of his touch.

Everything seemed premeditated by fate. The door he had pushed against, was the door to an empty and a very much deserted room home to whatever insignificant articles the campus could no longer make use of. It wasn’t locked, much to their luck. The ease of twisting the knob bought him enough time to have the both of them inside, and the door closed not a second after.

He sits her down on a nearby desk, pushing off the papers and pins with his hands before spreading her thighs open, and taking the space in between for himself. His hands hold the underside of her thighs, bringing her closer against him, and hooking her legs over his hips. All the while his lips began to wander past hers. His tongue tastes her skin, drawing a streak over her jaw and down his neck. He didn’t know it yet at that moment, but he bites into a more receptive part of her skin that elicited a breathy whimper from her, a sweet sound that sent waves of arousal that made his cock stand.

He continued to nip and nibble on her sweet and supple skin as he pressed himself against her center, letting her feel his erection tenting his trousers. Her hands reached down, aiming to undo his pants, but he suddenly descended, impetuously unfastening the confinement that was her pants. He hooks his fingers on the hem of the fabric, slowly stripping it off of her. He couldn’t resist any longer. He had no care if he came off as too eager. He’s been waiting in silent torment to finally taste and feel her essence on his tongue.

His hands lifted her thighs and placed them on his shoulders, and as he leaned in, his hands found her hips like he’s always known them. His tongue that thirsted for her taste licks over her arousal, still with the barrier of her panties — though said barrier was almost senseless. She could feel the weight and the heat of his tongue to a blissful extent that her fingers were once again bound to his hair. Her arm supported her weight as she leaned back, body arched to a beautiful curve as Seonghwa continued to lap on her clit over her panties. He, at the next minute, was pulling down on her panties, leaving it to fall to her ankles as he sought for her pureness of her core.

He tightens his grip on her hips as he tastes her directly for the first time. His eyes closed as she filled his senses with her taste, her scent, the feeling of her delicate flesh against his tongue. He couldn't help the deep rumble in his chest as he ingested her slick, the sound sending subtle vibrations that heightened her pleasure, causing her to pull harder on his hair, and for him to groan softly against her clit which he began to encircle with his tongue. His grasp on her hips were firm as his lips latched onto her bud, shifting between licking and sucking on her flesh. He could hear her muffled moans — she had covered her mouth in an attempt to not make too much noise. But then his tongue sneaked lower, pressing against her dripping hole. He pushes in his tongue, hooking his arms around her thighs as he keeps her in place. His cock throbbed when he felt her gummy walls on his tongue. The continuous ministrations of his mouth had her gasping for hair.

His cock only aches more when he glances up, seeing her head tilted back, exposing the smooth skin of her neck, with some of the muscles now being defined by the stretch as his tongue continued to penetrate her. And he could’ve sworn he almost came when he felt her clenching around his tongue.

“Seong-S-Seonghwa…” her quiet whimpering and her hands continuous and light pats on top of his head was enough to tell him that she was cumming.

But not yet. Seonghwa rises from the ground, leaving her core empty and throbbing. But her longing was soon resolved when he began to unbuckle his belt. Unable to resist the temptation, she reaches for his fly, undoing his pants in a brisk motion then tugging it down.

There was a slight tremble in her legs once her cock sprung free, slightly curved upward, standing tall at a decent length that had evoked her impending anxiety, tip prominent and already leaking with precum. She wanted badly to taste him as well, but he was — quite literally — the bigger person between the two of them. He leans forward, holding up her thighs and opening her wider for him. He keeps her other thigh elevated while his free hand aligned his cock to her entrance. His hips pushed forward subtly, making his tip press against her clit. He buried his face in her neck when he began to let out sounds beyond his control when he began to rub his tip against her slit.

Y/n holds onto his flexed bicep, giving it a light squeeze as her dainty voice whispers his name. “Seonghwa…”

“Yes, baby?” the new name, the feeling of his tip rubbing against her, it made sense how she’d lose her words by then.

But just as she was about to tell him to take it further, to put it in even with the worry of it breaking her at the back of her mind, she finds herself gasping for air once hit with a sharp stinging as she began to get filled by his heavy cock.

He was right. This was incomparable to the work of his hand. She was ecstacy personified.

He felt her hand pulling harshly on her shirt, and he looked down, seeing the thin layer of water over her gentle eyes. A sight so fragile. His temptation holding its true form right before him.

He places a soft and tender kiss on her forehead as he begins to move. He was addicted in an instant. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before. Her tight cunt sheathing his hard length over and over again was now a drug to him. He’s in heaven, holding her tightly and closely against the slow rocking of his hips, slow enough for her to feel every inch of his cock as he fills her over, and over again. The soft mewls that sounded from her melodic voice only drove him to move faster, but it pushed him further to reaching the edge.

He was so close, and the sight of her taking his cock fully below him, and the feeling of her walls fluttering around his length had him completely dazed, and dangerously near.

But then she came before him, pulsating and hugging his cock tight at release. His hands held her thighs with a bruising grip, and he was sure that had been the loudest he’s ever been, and it was a moan of her name. His body convulsed like hers, and his cum shot into her cervix, causing their fluids to mix inside of her.

The room fell into quiet gasps as they caught them fighting to catch their breath. He also didn't pull away once he's found stability in his breathing, like what she’d expect him to do. But she never thought he'd act like this. The nature of it all is rather… domestic.

His arms wrapped around her, holding her closely against him. His lips brushed against her cheek, meeting her lips. But the kiss was gentle, and slow. Truly, he was savouring it. Was it just the feeling?... Or was it her? Whatever the means of his actions were, she indulged in it.

This time, he really just lost a care for the tattle-mouths, his image, the papers, the numbers — they were all lost and thrown down the drain.

At this moment, his hypothalamus acts dominantly. He doesn't know what he's feeling, because he lacks the experience to define it. But his heart was beating in a pattern he couldn't recognize. It was strong, and he could hear it in his ears. At the same time, it wasn't painful nor overwhelming. It was oddly comforting.

He’s never thought of it, but it just felt right. He reached for her hand, and surely, it was a perfect fit in his grasp. As if they were molded for each other — which was too far of a stretch, but it's all just a theory.

・・・・・・・・・・

[reztaezm]

☰ ⌕ ⓘ

_____ 「 ⌗ 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗 」 ________________________

▶ menu:

⏭ 🅰🆃🅴🅴🆉 ・・・・・

⏭ 🅁🄸🄸🅉🄴 ・・・・・

⏭ 🄽🄲🅃-🅆🄸🅂🄷 ・・・・・

_____ 「 ⌗ 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝-𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛 」 ___________________

▶ menu:

ⓘ ???

_____ 「 ⌗ 𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚕-𝚋𝚘𝚡 」 ________________________

� open for:

☑ requests

☑ messages/random

________________________________________________

☷ ⓕⓩ ⋮

[reztaezm]

⌗ 𝚠𝚑𝚘?

ⓕⓩ's notes:

.ᐟ.ᐟ an author. no specifics.

.ᐟ age 20, scorpio.

.ᐟ.ᐟ he/him

.ᐟ loves green. obviously.

.ᐟ enfj, for anyone interested.

.ᐟ.ᐟ i write for —mainly— ateez, riize, considering nct [wish]. not going beyond this list.