#[scandal is once again increasing..] | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

highvern · 8 months ago

Text

Patterns I

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x fem!reader

Genre: smut (21+), eventual fluff/angst

Summary: Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is a pattern. So what does it mean when you find yourself in Wonwoo's bed over and over again?

Chapter Warnings: fuckboy(ish) wonwoo, friends(?) with benefits, multiple sex scenes, oral (f. & m. receiving), choking, face fucking, penetrative sex

Length: ~10k

Note: woooohoooo part 1 done. let me know what you guys think! thank you @gyuswhore for being my beta and talking me down from a complete meltdown lmao

Remember: Tumblr runs on reblogs and I run on validation in the tags and comments :)

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This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

“And if you look at this chart, you can see profit margins over the past three quarters have steadily increased…”

Mona drones on and on. You try to listen and nod along but there’s only so much enthusiasm that can be faked for a last minute afternoon meeting on a Friday. Maybe if she was saying anything with an ounce of meaning you’d pay attention. But the numbers she spout off on record profits only confirm what the company who hired your team already knows: if they give their employees more work for less pay, they’ll make more money.

The vibration of your phone wakes you up. Peering into your lap under the table, you see your roommate’s name flash across the screen.

Lisa 👁️🫦👁️: ruby’s tonight Y/N: Do I have a choice?

You don’t even lock your phone before she responds.

Lisa 👁️🫦👁️: nope!

“Y/N, do you mind sharing the latest reports?”

Head jerking up, you meet Mona’s gaze across the room. She flashes a tight smile, clearly having caught your moment of distraction. Lucky for you, you could recite the reports in your sleep.

You smile and say all the right things; make all the right jokes. Just enough personality they feel special but not so much they feel like you’re a real human being outside of your job.

“All right. I think we’ve covered everything.” Mona claps. “Edgar and I will be on call this weekend if anything comes up.”

Shuffling out with the rest of your coworkers, you beeline back to your desk.

Mona breezes by, slamming the door to her office shut.

“Do you think Mona has eyes in the back of her head?” Edgar asks, peeking over the wall dividing your cubicles.

Without looking away from the email crowding your screen you quip, “No, but I hear she sleeps in a coffin.”

“Huh. I thought that was just the hottest office furniture tread for execs.”

You snort in response.

Mona was a hard ass but she was good at her job.

“Anyway, any plans this weekend?”

“Get drunk and watch Love Island.”

Edgar gasps, hand to his chest like a scandalized debutant. “You wild woman.”

The next two hours crawl by. Not even the usual side projects keep you entertained, giving you time to research the new art installation downtown Lisa mentioned visiting.

Hopefully buying tickets as her early birthday present will get you off the hook for tonight.

In true Lisa fashion, a surprise gift means celebration. And the best place to celebrate is Ruby’s.

Smoke chokes the air, bodies upon bodies packed into the space of the dingy bar on a Friday night. The chill of the outside stops at the threshold of the door, sweltering heat greeting you and your friends as you join the crows eager to celebrate the weekend.

It’s almost too dark to see faces but Mingyu’s head of dark hair stands above the rest from his perch in the corner. Lisa’s hand finds yours, and your other hand find’s Amina as you shoulder towards the table he’s claimed for the night. The bass of whatever remix blaring through the DJ’s speakers thrums through the crush of drunk patrons like a frantic heartbeat, rattling your bones with each step deeper into the space.

The glossy surface of the table is already littered with cups and beer bottles. Mingyu cuts his conversation with Wonwoo short to greet your group, smiling over Lisa’s head already buried in his chest. Wonwoo's only acknowledgement is a short nod over the top of the bottle he lifts to his lips.

A pair of not so sly eyes wander down your front, tracing across the deep v of your top, baring your sternum between the swell of your breasts. You burn under Wonwoo’s blatant gawking, breath stalled and face hot but none of your friends appear to notice the electricity crackling between you two, intoxicated brains filling with lewd ideas.

Needing a reprieve, you slither to the bar in search of a drink. Slipping between the sweaty bodies as they part, Amina follows close behind. A few shots and a beer later, you stumble towards the dance floor with laughter on your lips and the bitter singe of alcohol on your tongue.

The crowd of strangers accepts you, swallowing you into the churning chaos immediately. A few familiar faces stand out in the crowd as you shift through the sway.

Looking over the shoulder of the random person in front of you, a mess of limbs better known as Lisa and Mingyu flashes into view; Soonyoung and Eva no better next to them. Over their embrace, you spot Amina dancing with a pretty stranger of her own, both of them with drunk smiles plastered on their faces.

Head dizzily bobbing to the music, your eyes slip shut. You know it's Wonwoo at your back, hips following closely, one hand around your waist and the other dragging a path of fire across your thigh.

This wasn’t the first time you found yourselves in this particular position. Since your roommates started dating, and whenever alcohol was close enough to serve as a believable excuse, you managed to find each other like super charged magnets; gluing together and drowning heady touches.

It wasn’t like anything more happened. That was the excuse you told yourself after the first time. A girls night out Mingyu and Wonwoo happened to stumble upon. You’d still been upset about the breakup with Seungcheol two months prior, indulging in the shitty white wine that only served to fuel your boldness.

You’d never admit seeking out Wonwoo with the knowledge Seungcheol couldn’t stand him; taking sick satisfaction in imagining the look on Seungcheol’s face as you let Wonwoo touch the way previously reserved for him. You pressed against Wonwoo’s front with little care for who saw; a challenging gleam in your glassy eyes, daring him to push away. Not one to be bested, Wonwoo pressed back, and the rest is history.

After the first night of the new game, you went home and came embarrassingly fast to the fantasy of what would have inevitably happened if he’d followed. The week after consisted of staunchly avoiding Wonwoo. Guilt and disgust plagued every waking moment, and if you had to look at him you knew you’d feel worse.

Your only real connection was your roommate Lisa dating his roommate Mingyu which meant your evasiveness went undetected for nearly a month before Wonwoo managed to corner you at a party and demand to know what your “fucking problem” was. It was then you realized he either didn’t remember what happened or didn’t think it was anything to make such a big deal about. You never asked for specifics but came to the conclusion: If he didn’t care, then why should you? It was just a bit of fun. A game of chicken neither intended to end.

Each time you came across each other on the weekends after, the stakes increased. One night, you let wandering hands catalog the planes hard muscle hidden underneath the fabric of his shirt. The next, you followed a trail of goosebumps across his neck with tongue and teeth.

And Wonwoo called your bluff everytime. His thumb tracing against the underside of your breast while delivering a particularly harsh grind of his hips, leaving very little to the imagination of what hid behind the zipper of his jeans. Or when he spun you around, hypnotizing you with his eyes while pawing your ass, dragging your core across his thigh wedged between your legs.

But whatever transpired fizzled away by the time the night ended, both of you content to go separate ways and ignore whatever was left on the dance floor (or occasionally a wall). Tonight would be no different. It never was. It never would be.

Wonwoo was fun to play with but that's all. Throw him flirty smiles, indulge in the bold touches, take a thrill in the chase and then retreat to the safety of the bar or drag one of your friends to the bathroom for a break. He let go without any argument; something you found disappointing much to your own chagrin. But Wonwoo’s eyes never left your figure the second it left his arms. Even if he found a new partner, he would watch you while he did everything he had already done and then all the things he would have done if you stayed.

“Come home with me,” he whispers in your ear, more of a command than a question, breaking the delicate silence surrounding your unspoken attraction.

The air in your chest thickens to a sludge. For a second, you think you misheard him, possibly hallucinating that he’s spoken at all. With the thrum of music and shouts it’s not out of the question.

Unable to turn in his tight grip, you settle for leaning back against his shoulder, neck stretching, giving him a direct view down your top, his eyes privy to the fact that you hadn’t worn a bra. His chest plastered against your back heaves with a heavy breath as you continue to move against him.

Wonwoo tries again, his hand squeezing your waist gently, pulling you closer to his body to feel the evidence of his arousal. “Come home with me.”

It's just the next level to the game, you think. The fantasy is tempting; taking you back to his apartment, spreading you out across his bed and making good on all the promises he’s teased into your skin for months.

If he wants to play, you’ll play too.

“What’s in it for me?” you hum, lips brushing his ear in a mimic of his motion moments ago.

Wonwoo responds with another curl of his hips against your ass.

God, he’s good at this. Wonwoo is the only guy to spark any kind of interest since Seungcheol left months ago. Not for lack of trying but they were either too tall, too short, weird hair, awful laugh. The list of excuses goes on and on. Subconsciously, you’d been comparing them all to the man behind you and found each of them lacking. But if Wonwoo wants to progress to the next level, he’ll need to work for it.

“Not convincing enough,” you chide.

The hand on your thigh pauses, taking a second to squeeze the supple flesh before setting a new course. Wonwoo moves slowly, giving you plenty of time to stop his advance if you wish. Not sensing an objection, he pushes forward. Even over the thick denim of your jeans, Wonwoo’s palm scorches against the zipper. Continuing lower, he grinds the heel of his palm against your clothed pussy, nothing more than mockery of the real thing but it has you shuddering all the same. The slope of your shoulder stings under his mouth, licking waves of fire across the nerves with each nip of his teeth.

Wonwoo pants against the shell of your ear on the next rock of his hand, laughing as your nails dig into his wrist before he whispers, “Unless you want our friends to watch, trust me.”

You need to see his face; need to look in Wonwoo’s eyes and find out if he’s trying to rile you up or if he’s serious.

This time when you move, Wonwoo allows you to turn in his hold. The look in his eyes tells you he would take you right here if he thought for a second you’d let him. He isn’t trying to just get a rise out of you and see you squirm. Wonwoo isn’t playing a game anymore.

He wants you.

You nod once and Wonwoo has you both out the door and on the way to his place before the song ends.

The cold metal of the door bites into your skin, bowing your chest straight into Wonwoo’s as he crowds against you, arms caging you in on both sides. His lips are busy surveying the skin of your neck, sucking and nipping until he pauses at the hollow of your throat. His teeth raze against the sensitive skin, tongue darting out to lave against the marks he’s determined to leave. Wonwoo listens closely to the sounds leaving your throat, focusing his ministrations whenever an exceptionally satisfied purr slips out.

He takes a step forward at the feel of your hand pushing its way into his jacket, rewarding the tease of your fingers across his stomach with a suck against your jaw. The sharp pain of your nails across his scalp forces a quiet groan out his lips; something you file away for later.

“Get us inside before your neighbors catch us with my hand down your pants,” you gasp, giving his hair a particularly harsh yank to pull him away from your breasts peeking out from the low cut of your top.

“Wouldn’t mind that,” he mumbles, diving back.

But Wonwoo concedes, grabbing his keys from his pocket while remaining focused on leaving his mark on your sternum.

Despite your request, you do everything but make it easier for him; thumb dipping into the waistband of his boxers before slipping inside, cupping the straining bulge confined under the tight fabric. Wonwoo falters under your attention, pressing his hips into you until you're crushed between his body and the door. When Wonwoo finally fumbles the key into the lock, the door flies open under your combined weight.

Using the momentum, Wonwoo crowds you back to the wall just inside, slamming the door shut with his foot, returning where he left off without missing a beat. A hand tilts your chin back to give him more room, and you realize he hasn’t kissed you yet. Twisting the front of his shirt, you resolve to change that.

Pulling back, Wonwoo’s brows arching in confusion, mouth falling opening to complain at being interrupted again but snapping shut when you attempt to pull him forward.

But a hair's breadth away Wonwoo stops.

“What do you want?”

You won’t beg. If anyone is cracking first it’ll be Wonwoo. Just like he did at the bar not too long ago.

“If you won’t tell me then I can’t give it to you.” He moves forward, nose tracing along your throat, breath fanning across your neck. One of his arms moves to the space between your body and the wall, pulling until his thigh is bracketed by yours. The hard muscle is nothing short heaven against the seam of your jeans, invoking a traitorous whimper from your throat.

You manage a chaste kiss against the side of his mouth before he darts out of range.

“Tell me and you can have it,” Wonwoo says, cocking his head back, looking down his nose at you from behind the wire frames of his glasses; pupils blown. His eyes close and he leans forward again before continuing, “Tell me what you want, and you can have everything.”

His teeth trail across the shell of your ear on the last word and suddenly it's all too much. The rasp of his voice, the flex of his thigh, the layers of clothing separating your bodies. If you don’t get relief soon you’ll both implode.

“Kiss me.”

You feel Wonwoo’s satisfied smile a second before your lips meet, lighting the fuse for what's to come. There’s no gentleness in the connection, instead, months of insatiable need leads the way. Parting your lips, you suck his own between your teeth until it's swollen in retaliation. Wonwoo angles your head back with a gentle tug of your hair, immediately swallowing your gasp at his roughness. The hand wrapped around the middle of your back flexes, urging, no, begging you to grind against him. You oblige with embarrassing eagerness.

Your hand finds its way down Wonwoo’s front again, fingers firm and demanding. Tracing the zipper of his jeans up and down in time with your movement against his leg, the heel of your hand presses forward, causing his hips to cant up against the pressure. The motion is a mock of what he was doing in the crowded bar minutes ago. Just enough to rile him up and to piss him off until his hands drop and squeeze your ass so hard it hurts.

Refusing to let your mouths part, Wonwoo drags you down the hallway towards his room. It takes longer than it should, both of you stopping to force the other into the wall, bodies writhing against one another in search of friction and pleasure. At one point you consider letting him fuck you right their on the floor but he pushes through the door to his room just before you can unzip his pants.

Finally inside, Wonwoo herds you towards the bed in the corner. The back of your knees hit the side, bending as you land with a soft bounce. Wonwoo follows swiftly, settling himself on his elbows before diving back into your neck again. His hips slot into the warm cradle of your thighs easily, pressing forward to search for the heat he knows is there. You greedily return the movement, hips curling up, savoring the drag of his hard cock. Wonwoo sucks another bruise onto your neck, high enough you’ll have to hide it in the morning but you're so drunk on the idea of what is going to happen next you can’t even feign outrage.

The strap of your flimsy top falls down and Wonwoo moves to explore the new span of skin. His lips drag over the uncovered swell of your breast, sloppy kisses trailing over the silky skin. Cocking his head to the side, he sucks a nipple through the thin black fabric. Your hips buck, back arching at the new sensation. The angle of Wonwoo’s cock is just right, pulling moan after moan from your throat. He’s so focused on what he’s doing he can’t be bothered to snicker at how he turns you into an aching puddle of want.

Clothes come off in a blur. You watch his abs flex as he rips his shirt over his head, eyes tracing the dark thatch of hair disappearing under the waistband of his pants. Soon, yours is gone too, lost on the floor. Wonwoo's eyes delight in the sight of you bare before him, with nipples puckered and breasts heavy with excitement. He ducks back down, mouthing at the sensitive bud, drowning in your breathy whines and whimpers. Using his hand, his calloused thumb massages the one his mouth had abandoned, pinching and flicking until you’re left raw and aching.

“Wonwoo,” you cry, hands ripping at the sheets when his teeth come out to play.

He pulls back from your breasts, in a frenzy to remove your pants while his knees fall to the ground on the side of the bed. You arch up to help him rip the damning fabric away. An ember of fury sparks, furious with yourself for wearing jeans over the skimpy skirt Lisa had offered.

None the wiser, Wonwoo looks between your legs like he’s found an oasis in a desert. You realize too late they’re nothing impressive. Pale pink cotton; simple, practical. Just like your pants, since getting fucked tonight wasn’t even a remote possibility when you left your apartment.

But Wonwoo doesn’t even seem to care. When you dare to look at his face, worried by the sudden pause in his actions, you find he’s not even blinking. His thumb finds your entrance through the fabric, shallowly dipping inside before moving back and massaging teasing circles over the damp spot.

Pride and ego long forgotten, you beg. “Wonwoo, please.”

Wonwoo doesn’t give in. Focusing on the curve of your thigh, nose etching along the strained muscle while he continues teasing touches over your underwear. The wet of his tongue comes out when he reaches the hem of your underwear. So close to where you want him but not close enough.

“Please.”

The pathetic crack of your voice is rewarded with firmer fingers and his lips against the sticky crotch of your panties; the heat of his mouth right over your entrance as he laps at your release.

Another beg and he moves aside the thin strip of fabric, curling his tongue into your entrance before sucking at your swollen clit.

The relief is short lived. Somehow, Wonwoo knows exactly how to touch and tease you, driving you up the wall only to pull you back down. One hand finds your knee, forcing it away when you try to crush his head between your thighs at the first prod of his long fingers inside you.

He slips another finger inside, his tongue continuing to swipe at your bundle of nerves, just as desperate to give you what you want as you are to receive it. Glancing down at him again, you find a scene worthy of being immortalized in a painting. His brow is furrowed in concentration, eyes pinched tight while he works to get you off.

A pause to take a breath is all the reprieve you’re granted before Wonwoo dives back in, moaning under the sting of your nails on his scalp; encouraging you to hold him there and use him, to come for him. The symphony of your combined noises floods the room. The squelch of his fingers, rubbing up against the place that drives you mad. The wet noises of his mouth, your arousal mixing with his spit; his noises when you pull at his hair, vibrating against your cunt and pulling your spine into a harsh curve.

You can’t help but watch him. Enamoured with how right he looks between your legs, skin slips together where his shoulders hold your legs up. Even the contrast of his hand on your knee fuels the fire.

He peers up at you when you call his name again. Eyes burning into your own. Like he can read your mind. Like he agrees this is the best place for him to be.

You hear yourself far away, chanting his name as you shatter into a million pieces. Clenching around Wonwoo’s fingers with a strength you didn't know you possessed, your hips ride them until your muscles lock and jerk. The smear of fluid across your thighs, slipping your ass and onto the bed is lewd.

But Wonwoo doesn’t stop, working you through it like his own release is on the line. Licking and sucking and fucking you with his fingers until you finally manage to pull him away with a choked cry of his name. Even then, his hand continues pistoning into you as your mouths find one another hungrily.

There's a sick satisfaction in your gut at the taste on his mouth. Your arousal coats his chin, his cheeks, even the tip of his nose is wet where it digs into your face as you suck his tongue.

Moving to his feet, Wonwoo bends over you, lips never straying from yours. He fails to crowd you down into the mattress like he intends. Freezing when your hands pushing his pants down the rest of the way. His cock bobs, the nearly purple head leaking. If there was any doubt he didn’t find pleasure going down on you before, the evidence of his enjoyment sits hard and heavy in your palm. An exploratory squeeze has Wonwoo’s chin dropping to his chest, a sharp breath leaving his nose.

Sliding off the bed and to your knees, you peek up at him through your lashes, letting the tip rest against parted lips. When Wonwoo drags his head back up, looking down his nose, your tongue darts out to catch some of his pre-cum, receiving another groan in response. A thought that has you blushing rears its head.

He’ll probably like it, you think.

You let one of her hands trail down while kissing across the velvety shaft his length. Wonwoo watches closely, eyes widening for a second when you find the apex of your thighs, dipping down to collect the lingering slickness. Once satisfied, you exchange your grip on his cock and quirk an eyebrow. Stroking him coyly.

You don’t look away from his eyes even though every instinct tells you to hide from the heat in his gaze. Your palm catches at the tip, thumb brushing his leaking slit. More evidence of his arousal trickles out and you lap it up quickly.

“Shit,” Wonwoo hisses. “Fuck, you’re so good.”

One of Wonwoo’s hands finds your cheek, helping you find a comfortable pace. Settling the back of your head against the bed, drag him forward by his ass, content to let him use your mouth the way you used his. Wonwoo stumbles for a second at the sudden movement, hands finding the bed to prevent himself from collapsing. He peers down in question.

“Want you to fuck my mouth,” you pant, quickly taking him back in, going as deep as possible without gagging.

“Fuuuuck,” Wonwoo rasps, moving the hand on the side of your face to the back of your head. He pins you in place with his hips, giving a shallow, almost hesitant thrust as he discovers your limits.

You zone out when he finds a rhythm, hand at the base of his cock to keep him from bottoming out in your throat, the one cradling his balls dropping to trace the inside of his thigh. Eventually, Wonwoo lets himself go, savoring the pressure of your tongue when you lap against the tip as he pulls out. His abs twitch at the sight of drool leaking from the corners of your stuffed mouth, lips stretched and bruised around his cock.

Opening your eyes, you look right at him; punching the air from his chest as you moan around his cock, the vibration forcing his head back, neck bared again as a bead of sweat settles in the hollow of his throat.

“Touch yourself,” Wonwoo commands, breaking the melody of whimpers and groans.

You disregard his command, content with focusing on untying him from his loose tether to sanity.

Not one to be ignored, Wonwoo pulls away on the next stroke. You follow, attempting to trail forward and suck him back down your throat but Wonwoo’s hand knots in your hair. He yanks your head back until his cock is just out of range. Looking up at him, you do nothing to hide the annoyance at such a sudden disruption.

“Touch. Yourself. ” he lets out tightly, enunciating each syllable. Equally annoyed but willing to make a point.

“Wanna watch me?” you goad, smug as the tips of his ears redden.

Instead of brushing it off, Wonwoo takes the bait.

“Yeah I do,” he says, one hand leaving your hair, guiding the tip of his cock across the seam of your lips, letting out a humorless laugh when your tongue reaches out to meet it on instinct. “Wanna watch while you suck my cock because you’re a good girl.”

He lets you take the head, teeth grinding under the dig of your tongue into the slit. But any attempt to take more is punished with another tug of your hair. Until his hand circles your throat and he pulls you off completely.

“Right, Y/N?”

The praise goes straight to your head, breath stunted. You barely nod before Wonwoo moves his hips forward again, slowly resuming their previous rhythm at the promise of seeing you put on a show. Two fingers slip in with ease, disappointment bubbling when the stretch doesn’t come anywhere close to his but you’ll play along for now if it means getting to feel his cum on your tongue.

Wet, messy noises echo in the room. You hollow your cheeks, hand acting as a bumper while letting his cock kiss the back of your throat. Wonwoo’s hips stutter when you swallow around him. The tension in his muscles doubles your effort, set on the satisfaction of making him cum from just your mouth.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck” Wonwoo hisses, pulling you off.

Wonwoo hauls you up into the bed, aggressively crowding you towards the pillows. The cool sheets sting against your back, but you focus on getting another fist around his cock. Wonwoo intercepts your plans before you can make it below his navel. He pins the offending appendage next to your head; grip loose enough you could break if you wanted, but the tease of his dominance turns you on even more and it's not long before he has both hands above your head, and a disapproving look on his face.

“If you don’t want me to come on your thigh, I suggest keeping your hands to yourself,” he states, leaning towards the bedside table, searching for a condom.

“Didn’t think you’d be that easy,” you bite back. Planting your feet on the bed, your hips grind up into his.

“Says the woman who begged for my cock,” Wonwoo grinds out, flattening his chest into yours, teasing with exactly what you asked for.

You're suddenly hit by how much stronger Wonwoo is than you. Able to have your entire body pinned like it’s nothing while working the condom on at the same time. You knew he worked out, broad shoulders and narrow waist giving him away; but having that strength used you sends a swirl of butterflies through your stomach.

Wonwoo resorts to ripping open the packet with his teeth, hips easing up to quickly roll it down his length. He rubs himself through your folds, collecting the wetness and repeatedly tapping himself to your clit. You’re about to flip him around and take matters into your own hands when he catches on your entrance and presses home in a slow thrust.

He slides deep. Deeper than Seungcheol, deeper than anyone you’ve ever been with. You barely get a chance to savor it before he’s moving, wasting no time before working up a pace meant to drive you both mad.

“Shit,” you curse.

Wonwoo huffs into your neck, tongue tracing the shell of your ear. “Yeah? Feel good?”

“Soooo good.”

Wonwoo lets go of your hands, tangling one the sheets, the other searching for the top of the metal headboard. The change in position folds you in half, giving him the leverage to fuck as deep as possible. Finding your hands free, one claws at his back, leaving bright red lines in its wake. The other grabs for his ass, squeezing the muscle there, helping him press forward. His balls clapping against the swell of your ass drives you closer to hysteria.

Your second orgasm rushes forward, resting on his lips finding yours. The connection is bruising, all teeth and tongues. The hand on his ass falls to play with yourself and Wonwoo breaks away to watch.

“Like that, Y/N?” Wonwoo bites, whispering right into your ear. “Fuck, you're so tight, baby.”

His words only add to the inferno. The need to come overwhelms you, demanding satisfaction to the point it hurts. But you need more. Needs something you can’t name and only Wonwoo can give.

Frustration twists your features, eyebrows furrowed and mouth tense. Almost as if he senses your oncoming tantrum, Wonwoo drops more of his weight, pressing you into the mattress and filling you to the brink.

“Be a good girl,” Wonwoo coos, hip punctuating each word while his teeth tug at your earlobe. “Come for me.”

His permission is the key. Bombs explode behind your eyelids, cascading colors against the black and white. Loud moans rush from your throat to fill his room, muscles locked, body convulsing with endorphins. You want to kiss him again, until you can’t breathe, until you stop needing oxygen and adapt to survive on the taste of his mouth.

Wonwoo must feel the same, meeting you in a lazy kiss, too fucked out to put in more effort. He swallows every whimper, the syllables of his name while he fucks you through your high. The wetness smeared between your bodies echoes all the motions, his pistoning hips driving more and more from your worn cunt.

His own high rushes for him at light speed. Pulling back, he rests his forehead against yours. You burn the last bit of energy you possess to open your eyes and find his. Wonwoo’s face is tight as a thin sheen of sweat covers his body. All you want now is to see him cum, give him as much pleasure as he’s given you. Reaching up, your lips brush his ear one last time.

“Wanna feel you come,” you sigh. “Please, Woo.”

The responding groan signals success. His hips stutter forward, a deep grunt bursts from his chest. If you weren’t exhausted, you’d demand to go again; to fuck him again and again just to see the twitch of his lips as he empties himself into you, the grind of his teeth, and shudder of his chest. But Wonwoo gives one more hard drive of his hips before collapsing, completely spent.

You don't know how long you stay like that, drifting in and out of consciousness as sweat dries, and your thighs becoming uncomfortably sticky. When Wonwoo moves to pull out, a surprising whine rips from your throat.

“Shower?” he asks, husky voice breaking the lingering silence.

You finally crack an eye open at Wonwoo’s voice, and find him looking at you with soft eyes. Uh oh. Warning bells fire but you’re too tired to care. A shower sounds lovely.

Wonwoo hauls you up, leading you into his small bathroom. The water in the shower is already running, steam escaping the stall as he ushers you under. The scratches at his back contrast brightly against his pale skin, a few bite marks spattered across his chest. You know you look equally debauched but the lull of warm water calms any concerns. The silence is comfortable, thick as you move like zombies. Wonwoo passes his body wash without a word, moving to shampoo his hair. Swapping between the brutally frigid air and the comforting warm water under the shower head, you both race to finish up quickly. Once satisfied, Wonwoo shuts off the faucet and grabs the towels from the hook on the wall. He hands you one before stepping out to dry himself. A spare toothbrush waits on the counter when you exit the stall.

Wonwoo leaves first, heading back to his room to dress. It gives you the opportunity to look in the mirror for the first time. Your skin glows, both from the steam and Wonwoo’s attention. Across your throat, bruises cluster like a necklace, splotches of darkness maring the skin. Unfolding the towel, you find more littered across your breasts, and an impressive one on the inside of your thigh.

After the shock fades, exhaustion creeps back in. It had to be far into the early hours of the morning. You hope Mingyu stayed with Lisa at your shared apartment. Having to face Wonwoo in the morning was enough horror, but if Mingyu heard anything then you would never be able to look him in the eye again despite having heard your roommate and him more times than you can count.

Returning to Wonwoo’s room, you see him already under the covers, spread out on his stomach with his face squashed into the pillow. On his desk sits a tshirt and a pair of old shorts. Hanging the towel up in his bathroom, you snag the shirt and pull it on.

Finding your pants, you fish out your phone and see the time: 3:47AM. A few missed calls from Amina, several dozen texts from the group chat, and one from Lisa that reads “You better not be where I think you are” clutter the screen.

There's no point in arguing the accusation. She has your location, you know she checked it before she went to bed. And in the morning you’ll have to answer every inane question that pops into her head. But for now, you need to sleep.

Sliding open the group text, you send a quick “I'm alive, see u in the morning for brunch?” tossing your phone aside.

Your head hits the pillow and you’re out like a light.

The dream you’re lost in is lovely. A faceless figure bends you over a desk, your heated face pressed against the glossy wood. Naked as the day you were born, nothing protecting your nipples from rubbing against the cold surface, hardening until you hiss from sensitivity. Large warm palms massage your ass, hands pushing upwards, lightly parting the cheeks to give him more leverage to lick at your leaking hole. You can feel him moan, echoing your own sounds of pleasure as he indulges. One hand finds its way back to his head, fingers tangling in his short hair, holding him in place as you rise on tiptoes to move against his mouth. He feels familiar but it doesn’t matter who he is, more so what he plans to do. Just as a thumb swipes against your other hole, pulling a shocked gasp from your lips, it all comes crashing down.

You claw at the tendrils of pleasure slipping past to no avail. Harsh whispers outside your door pull you awake as they gain volume. It isn’t out of the ordinary to hear snippets of your roommates’ conversations as they pass down the hall towards their own rooms. Having the first room off the kitchen was the sacrifice you made to have a bigger closet and a better view. Usually though, Lisa and Amina had the decency to not have a full blowout so early, and on a weekend no less.

As the whispers crescendo into a one sided screaming match, you make out Lisa and Mingyu’s voices on the other side of the thin wood.

“Mingyu if you don’t move out of my way there will be TWO BODIES TO CLEAN UP.”

Lisa is pissed, using a tone of voice saved for rare occasions. Occasions you rarely witnessed Mingyu be on the receiving end of. Whatever he had done, he better pray Lisa forgives him. He also better pray you forgive him for working Lisa’s temper up so early in the morning.

“Shut the fuck up!” you yell, voice thick with sleep, refusing to open your eyes against the light trickling in from the window above. Snuggling deeper in the soft covers, you try to force yourself back asleep, hoping to reunite with the anonymous dream man.

When did the window get above your bed?

You shoot up, instantly regretting the decision. Splinters of pain shoot behind your left eye causing you to collapse back into the pillows to find reprieve. The grumble next to you sends your heart racing.

“I’m going to kill her,” a gravely male voice threatens.

Turning on your side, you brave the torturous sunlight to catch Wonwoo’s profile. His face is scrunched in annoyance, eyes shut as he too tries to get lost in the blankets. He drags the comforter over your heads, pulling you towards him to hide in the curve of your throat.

It all comes rushing back. Going home with him, your dirty deeds, the shared shower. You beg the powers that be to kill you when you remember how you begged with embarrassing ease.

Outside his door, Lisa bellows and forces the door open; sending it cracking against the wall with the force.

The blanket rips down, uncovering who's hiding underneath. She only manages to pull it below your shoulder before you and Wonwoo realize what's happening and clutch at the fabric. Thank god you both are wearing clothes.

“What the fuck?” Wonwoo’s voice is acidic as he looks to Mingyu over Lisa’s head. Mingyu at least has the decency to look apologetic as Lisa acts like an overly concerned mother who just found her daughter with a boy in her bed.

“See? Y/N is alive, we can leave now,” Mingyu tries in vain to placate his girlfriend. Lisa snatches her hand away from him when he attempts to pull her out of Wonwoo’s room.

Lisa’s eyes take in your tousled hair, the bruises at both your necks, the clothes littered on the floor haphazardly. She isn’t stupid, she knows exactly what has happened. Lisa also knows Wonwoo wouldn’t take advantage of you, but she is still protective nonetheless. The amused look spreading across her face nearly sends you out the window and to the cement several stories below.

“Oh my god, are you fifteen?” Her question is pointed at Wonwoo, catching the string of hickies marking your neck.

“How about you get the fuck out of my room?” Wonwoo bites, raising his voice. He burrows under your chin, dragging the blanket over his head once again.

“We’ll talk about this later!” Lisa calls as Mingyu finally drags her out the door, her voice is muffled by the slam of it shutting but you clearly hear her yell, “Brunch is in an hour!”

Finally left alone, you mind races to prepare for the interrogation waiting for you. Wonwoo appears to be unaware of any such troubles. Cuddling down into the swell of your breasts, he’s already trailing back towards sleep.

Despite yourself, the hand stuck under him rises up to gently trace shapes across the expanse of his back. The warm skin lulls you into a trance as the memories from the hours prior replay.

“Are you sure I can stay?” A deep yawn warps your voice. You’re already halfway under the covers, hoping he doesn’t change his mind. If you have to stay awake any longer you’ll have a meltdown.

“Yes.” His face is still pushed into his pillow, voice distorted by the barrier and slurred with his sleep. “Now shut up and sleep.”

And you do just that. Shocking, given you’re a horrible bed partner; tossing and turning most of the night, waking frequently. Seungcheol experienced many grumpy mornings courtesy of your poor sleep hygiene after a sleepover. But in Wonwoo’s bed, your restlessness decides to take the night off, allowing you to sleep like a rock.

It can’t have been more than a couple hours before you awake again. Despite the short snooze, you’re more rested than you’ve been in months. Stretching with a yawn, you find what roused you awake.

Somehow Wonwoo found you in his sleep, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist, body firm against your back. He’s hot skin and hard muscle, the tent in his boxers sliding roughly across the naked skin of your thighs. Cursing yourself for forgoing the shorts he laid out, you try and twist away only for Wonwoo’s length to settle between the dip of your ass.

You freeze solid. Listening to the sound of his breathing stop then even out once again. Waiting to confirm he’s still asleep, you try moving away again only for his hips to press against you once you wiggle against him. Body acting on its own, your spine curls, sending your ass back into his crotch.

And then Wonwoo’s arm around your waist flexes and he thrusts forward.

Shit.

“Can I help you?” he asks, face buried somewhere between your shoulder blades, nose tracing your spine until he finds the bare skin of your neck to leave heated gossamer kisses.

There’s nothing left to lose. You’ve already fucked. Wonwoo face to face with your most intimate parts, and you the same. You begged him to cum inside you for Christ's sake. Giving another curl of your hips, you decide to meet his challenge.

“Can you?” you whisper into the darkness, eyes sliding close again as a tired breath leaves your nose. It's less of a goad, and more of a subtle beg for his attention.

Wonwoo drags the hand wrapped around your waist downward, wedging it between your thighs gently. You’re already wet from the brief movements against one another. He wastes no time, immediately framing your clit with two fingers, teasing friction to warm you up. The first twitch into his hand has his fingers dropping, pushing into your entrance as you parts your legs to make more room. His movements are sluggish but he placates your want the best he can.

One of your hands slides under the covers, moving behind your back to grab him. The unmistakable heat greets you through the fabric of his underwear. His breath stutters against your back, his chest pressed tightly against your back like a second skin. Wonwoo jerks forward through your fist, clothed tip prodding against the soft curve of your ass when you reach the base.

Continuing to move just like that, you both are more than content to get off like this, much too tired to put in any real effort. But when you push down his boxer just enough to feel the hot velvet skin of his tip against the dip of your spine, leaking from light touches, Wonwoo decides he wants more. Needs more.

He pushes your hand away, directing himself between your legs, resting his tip at your entrance. With shallow thrusts forward, he lets himself catch on the ring of muscle just inside, barely parting your walls. The thought of him returning deep inside you, condom nowhere to be found, makes you drool. At some point Wonwoo’s hand finds your waist again, this time under the fabric of the flimsy t-shirt. The thick cotton bunches across your breasts, teasing your sensitive nipples while his hand splays between and pulls you against him.

You have half a mind to let him fuck you like this, raw, half asleep, tucked under the covers in the silence of his room. The other half blares with sirens and red lights flashing DANGER! DANGER! DANGER!

The louder part of your brain, the one that sounds suspiciously like when Amina scolded you for not using condoms with Seungcheol after getting an IUD, wins.

It takes all the strength you possess to break the trance Wonwoo has. His lips have taken to mouthing at the back of your neck, his nose tracing the notches of your spine while his tongue sends goosebumps blooming.

“Condom.” you finally manage to breathe out, voice pushing past the thick blanket of lust and fatigue.

The hand on your chest flies off, moving in the direction of the bedside table. Within seconds Wonwoo wraps himself in the latex and pushes inside.

The stretch is perfect, muscles already accommodating his languid thrusts inside you. His hips are tucked tightly along your ass, barely a sliver of space between your bodies. One of Wonwoo’s hands reaches back under your shirt to thumb your sore nipples, letting a heavy flesh rest in his palm. The arm propped under your head reaches out, Wonwoo’s fingers twisting in the pillow cases. The web of veins and muscles flex with each cant, almost ripping the fabric of the sheet apart when you clench around him.

As if having a mind of its own, a hand trails up his neck, cradling the back of his head and tangling in short locks of hair. Wonwoo hitches his chin over your shoulder, leaning forward to moan right into your ear. Your other hand takes the abandoned post at your clit, determined to make yourself cum and pass back out in the next five minutes.

Unlike the explosions earlier, your orgasm crawls up slowly, bubbling to the surface in a smooth simmer. Your thighs tighten, twitching as the pot boils over and melting you into Wonwoo’s chest. He follows you over the edge quickly, hips continuing their fluid rhythm until they stutter against your ass; shuddering breaths leaving his chest, a quiet groan of satisfaction punctuating his content. You can’t move even if your life depends on it, heaviness settling in your muscles like concrete.

You're already descending back into the realm of dreams when Wonwoo slips away.

Wonwoo’s soft snores jolt you back. You’re far too awake to try joining him. And you can’t just stay in his room forever. Glancing around the room, you devise an escape plan. Wonwoo’s position doesn’t lend any subtlety, any effort to move from under him requires you to lift his entire weight.

You sit still for another minute, contemplating the potential pros and cons if he is awake to see you run, away from the sanctuary of his room and into the reality sitting beyond the door. Precisely as you decide to deal with whatever teasing he’ll no doubt hurl your way, Wonwoo shifts, burrowing back into the pillow on his side to provide easy access. Waiting with bated breath, you’re relieved when the muscles of his back expand with a deep inhale as he settles in slumber once again.

Springing out of bed, you collect your phone and wrinkled clothes. The shocking level of cleanliness and organization the room possesses for a man his age aids your quest. However, your underwear appears to be a lost cause. With haste, you search under the bed, eyes scouring the area around his desk, even sneaking a quick glance back towards him to see if the missing garment is mixed with the pillows. All is fruitless as the bright pink garments have disappeared, gone without a trace.

After slipping on your pants with impressive speed, you're out of his bedroom and into the hallway. Body on autopilot, you tiptoe towards the front door.

The cracked door of Mingyu’s room where Lisa is no doubt waiting to ambush lingers just ahead. You don’t dare to breathe as you breeze past and ruin her plans. The heavy metal of the front door groans at your pull, tensing as noise echoes in the hallway behind you. You’re swift, slipping between the crack in the door frame and into the stairwell before Lisa can even call out your name. By the time Lisa is able to pull the front door back open, you’re down the stairs and halfway through the lobby, beelining for the busy street outside.

Everyone on the street can tell you’re taking a walk of shame; their judgment burning into your skull with each step closer to home. The tale tell signs are clear as day: messy hair, t-shirt clearly belonging to someone else, eyes downcast as you move along the congested sidewalk of a Saturday morning. The only solace is the neck of Wonwoo's shirt covering a majority of the marks staining your skin.

You don’t breathe until you round the block of your apartment. Thankfully the lobby is empty and so is the elevator as you ride up in stifling silence. Slipping through the crack of the sliding doors, you rush the remaining distance and finally find your way into sanctuary.

The door clicks shut, and the dull thud of your head meeting metal rings a second later; the cool melt against the sweat on your brow is a lovely reprieve.

The sound of a throat clearing down the hall less so.

Glaring over your shoulder, you find Amina leaning over the kitchen island, an eyebrow cocked inquisitively. Lisa clearly informed her of the morning's findings.

Her lips twitch with humor, choking out, “Have a good night?”

“Shut up,” you grumble, launching off the door and to your room. Sharp laughter meets your back.

Hiding away in the bathroom, you cloak yourself in steam and scrub away any remnants of the night. Starting with the piney smell of Wonwoo’s body wash.

You run through the facts despite wanting nothing more than forgetting the entire ordeal.

Fact: Wonwoo isn’t as horrible as Seungcheol made you believe.

Opinion: He’s still infuriating.

Fact: You slept with Wonwoo.

Opinion: It wasn’t half bad.

Fact: You won’t do it again.

Thirty minutes later, the hot water runs out and you’re forced back into reality.

She can’t look in the mirror, knowing exactly what you’ll see. The proof that can’t be scrubbed away, the proof that the you let Wonwoo fuck you silly, and that you wouldn’t mind if it happened again.

Some time later, hidden amongst the piles of blankets littering your bed, you mope. The hood of your sweatshirt tied tightly around your head leaving only your face visible. The TV hums with the drunk gibberish of the reality tv show cast as they laugh and cry over something innocuous.

A soft knock on the door breaks your focus, Amina appearing in the opening.

“Are you still coming to breakfast?” She asks.

“Don’t feel good.”

“Y/N,” Amina sighs, sitting on the edge of your bed. “It’s not that bad.”

You almost swallow your tongue. Of all your friends, Amina dislikes Wonwoo the most. She’s polite as she can be for Lisa and Mingyu’s sake, but everyone knows they get on as well as fire and water.

“Who are you?” you question, eyes widening at the impersonator perched at your feet.

Amina cackles in response, and you can’t help but join.

“You had fun, right?” Amina asks, waiting for your nod before continuing.“Okay, then who cares?”

“You don’t?”

“No,” Amina sighs. “You’ve been…”

She pauses, weighing her next words. “...down, since Seungcheol left. Maybe this is what you needed to get back out there.”

You start to object but fail to find any evidence against her claim. Seungcheol leaving turned your world upside down. You couldn’t hate him. It wasn’t like he didn’t try to make things work. But there was nothing for you in Seattle, just like there was nothing for him in New York. Other than each other. Somehow it’s much harder when no one is to blame other than unchangeable circumstances.

Amina rubs your knee over the covers. “It’s not my business who you sleep with. Unless you bring him here and I hear you, then I reserve the right to kill you both.”

“Trust me, it won’t be happening again.”

“Why?” Now it’s Amina’s turn to be shocked. “Was it that bad?”

“No!” You blurt, face heating at the sudden outburst. “It was just a one time thing. Get it out of the system.”

Amina hums. Silence falling between you.

“So… was he better than Seungcheol?” Amina asks like she doesn’t care either way but you know she’s curious. She heard enough times about the lack of chemistry between you and Seungcheol for to have a vested interest in your sex life.

Truthfully, he was. The best experience with Seungcheol paled in comparison next to your night with Wonwoo.

Taking silence as an answer, Amina stands.

“Get dressed. Eva is already on the way here to pick us up.”

She leaves with out another word.

Across town, Wonwoo contemplates the ramifications of murder.

The morning after a night like his should have him walking around like the sun shined out of his ass. Instead, the most annoying person in the city chose to rain on his parade. That person is coincidentally his best friend's girlfriend.

If it hadn’t been for Lisa’s shouts this morning, he’s more than confident you would have agreed to a repeat of the nights events. Maybe even two or three if he was lucky.

But no, you sprinted from his bed the second he feigned sleep. Watching through barely cracked eyes, he almost broke his cover when you nearly fell head first into the door knob, hastily trying to pull your pants up and walk at the same time.

Wonwoo let you go, no snide comments or crude remarks. He knew if he wanted you to return to his bed then the best way was to bite his tongue. Goading had worked the first time, now he’d have to let your curiosity get the better of you. You would come back sooner or later, and he'd be ready when it happened.

He’d given you a few minutes to find your way out, hoping you avoided Lisa and saved you both the embarrassment. The slam of the front door and lack of screaming informed him of your success. Wanting to make sure you were long gone before he exited his room, Wonwoo took his time brushing his teeth. Catching himself in the mirror, his reflection gave a self-satisfied smirk. The stain of your teeth and lips contrasted against his skin and his back stung along the raised red welts from your nails.

Flicking off the light, Wonwoo heads towards back to his room. Lisa will demand audience sooner or later and it's better if he rips the bandaid off now. In his peripheral, a swatch of pale pink fabric tucked underneath one of the legs of his dresser catches his attention. Ducking down, he puls at the stretch of cotton. Lifting them up to inspect the out of place garment, Wonwoo finds himself face to face with your panties. He huffs a laugh before crumbling them in his hand, and tossing them in the hamper on the way out of his room.

Lisa waits for him at the dining table; commanding the head seat like a mob boss.

From her perch, she watches him with keen interest that makes his bowl of cereal taste like mush. Mingyu already excused himself to take a shower before Wonwoo sat down, attempting to avoid the ensuing blow out.

Every question is answered with one word answers or dismissive grunts. Even Lisa’s attempts to bait him into unrelated arguments roll off. Lisa chisels away at any sign of weakness but Wonwoo refuses to give her the satisfaction of seeing him squirm. It’s none of her business. Even if you’re her best friend.

Wonwoo counts his blessings when a call comes through her phone, the vibration on the table interrupting her attempt to burn a hole through his skull. Lisa rises to answer, pacing the kitchen while the feminine voice coming out the receiver chatters on. She ducks her head into Mingyu’s room, bidding him farewell. As she passes Wonwoo again on her way out, she gives him another furious look to let him know she isn’t done with their “conversation”.

To rub salt in the wound, Wonwoo sends her off with an overly friendly smile and a wiggle of his fingers. He wipes down his face when the door slam shuts, shoulders dropping. He knew hooking up with you might cause problems. He didn’t know they would become evident so quickly, but problems nonetheless.

Worth it, he thinks

The look on her face when she came for him made anything Lisa planned to throw his worth the price.

Wonwoo didn’t care what any of them had to say, you both were grown adults. He wanted to sleep with and you wanted to sleep with him. End of conversation. Anyone else’s opinion meant nothing.

And if things go the way he thinks they will, he’ll get to see you in his bed again.

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @lovelyhachi

Series Taglist: @aaniag @sdoulc @wonvsmile @jeonwonwooscutie @wonrangwoo @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @yogurttea @4cheezflatbred @fragmentof-indifference @p-dwiddle @icedearlgreytea @cottoncheol @hoshiskimchi @listxn @kwonshiho

#ksmutsociety #kvanity #svthub #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #wonwoo x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #svt smut #🫡 highvern

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nouearth · 10 months ago

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breaking news.

bruce wayne x male reader headcanon.

summary: bruce has been making national headlines once again, but this time, you're caught up in it.

warnings: bale!bruce, panicked!reader, media frenzy surrounding relationship with bruce!

dating bruce wayne in public included explosive media coverage when the news of your relationship first leaked. for weeks upon weeks, it was all every news outlet and the public could talk about—gossip about. people couldn't flip through their tv, or scroll through their phone without seeing:

THIS JUST IN: BRUCE WAYNE, MULTI-BILLIONAIRE PHILANTHROPIST AND PLAYBOY, CAUGHT IN ROMANTIC RENDEZVOUS WITH... A MAN?

it all started with a photo; a voyeuristic shot that framed you and bruce sitting in one of the restaurants that he'd invested in, holding hands and laughing by the candle light. it was one of the many dates where he closed business for the night for privacy reasons—to keep you safe from the public's eye. and judging from the angle, it was evident that it was one of the employees that had managed to stay back in the building.

to be honest, it was tasteful. nothing scandalous or even remotely explicit, especially if you had to compare to the scandals of men of bruce's status. as much as you felt like your privacy was invaded, you couldn't help but feel relieved when you saw bruce's smile in the photo. the way he looked at you with such doting eyes, his thumb caressing over the bridge between your index and thumb, the plates of food left cold because you were addicted to his company, and vice versa.

it was an intimate moment that was ruined by selfishness—greed.

for a brief moment, you felt... scared. the windows in your apartment were immediately shut and blinded by curtains; the locks in your doors were triple-checked; your passwords were immediately changed to new ones you'd probably forget in the future. you felt eyes on your back, pierced through the walls, watching your every move even if they hadn't.

and as much as you teased bruce about leaving him after your fifteen minutes of fame, you needed him more than ever.

"bruce, what do i—what's happening?""alfred's coming, you're at home, right? i'm talking with my security team right now and—"

it wouldn't be long until people found out who the 'mysterious man' in question was.

in less than an hour, your social media presence had a tenfold increase. photos on your feed received more comments and likes you could ever count. many of them ran with the narrative that you were simply an object of bruce's undisclosed desire for men, his boy toy. and before you knew it, the news outlet began reporting the same, including their own findings of your life.

dating bruce wayne in public included him hugging you as soon as you arrived to his manor. it was a protective instinct that had been brewing since he heard how panicked—how afraid you were—on the phone. while multiple phones rang off the hook, bruce took the time to let you breathe into you, to find a sense of peace as he held you, comforted you with affectionate words in your ear, affectionate touches that rendered you calm and ultimately safe again.

dating bruce wayne in public included bruce addressing his relationship with you in a press conference. it was silly that it had come to this point, but he made sure his feelings regarding how the news outlets had turned a relationship between two men into a media frenzy were known.

"yes, i am in a loving relationship with (M/N)." "no, i am not dating a man for relevancy." "who wears the pants—really? security, let's escort him out, please?" "no, my fiancé is not what those rumors have suggested." "and yes, (M/N) is my fiancé. be kinder, and i ever so might have the fleeting thought to invite you all to my wedding."

dating bruce wayne in public meant that you were advised to keep your answers as vague as possible when you were approached by paparazzis. there were few times where you could escape, but they came in massive groups, bombarding you, and the security team that bruce had hired to protect you, with questions that would guarantee the tabloids massive engagement, but you wouldn't falter.

"ah... yes—he's doing very well, thank you." "oh? my coat? bruce gifted it to me on my birthday a few years ago!" "what do i like... uh, cooking! i make a mean burger—ask bruce yourself!"

and as the public began to know you more, through your timid answers, to the wary and tired smile that only emphasized the dark circles on your face, you were rather... charming? compared to bruce, they've quickly fallen in love with how personal you could be at times. where bruce was always stoic and formal in his answers, you stuttered and answered with a laugh, unexpectedly cracking a joke in between.

it didn't take much interaction before the public realized what made bruce fall in love with a man like you.

dating bruce wayne in public included you becoming quite of a celebrity yourself. alongside bruce's, your day was documented from the very minute you stepped onto a sidewalk and started your day. what was your order at the local coffee shop? what did you like having for lunch? your favorite movie? your favorite thing about bruce?

you were a hot commodity and everyone wanted a piece of you.

though, that never stopped your weekly dates with him. golfing, swimming, hiking, eating; you'd hear the clicks of photos being taken from the shadows, and it was bruce who always held you closer, by the shoulders or by the hand to remind you that you were safe with him.

"they'll get tired of us eventually.""hopefully..."

with him by your side, it wasn't so bad that the camera flashes never failed to blind you whenever you two shared a sweet kiss.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x male reader #bruce wayne fic #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne headcanon #nou.fics

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hispg · 1 year ago

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Scandalous

Pairings: DI! Leon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your mentor Leon is angry that you risked your life. He needs to remind you not to do that again.

Wc:2.1k

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, p in v, spanking, orgasm control/denial, daddy kink, older! Leon, edging, age gap(not specified),dom! Leon, sub! Reader, porn without plot, shameless smut, crying during sex, pet names, public sex(?).

"Are you even listening to me?" Leon growls in your ear, his fingers moving in and out of your slit.

You just nod, your mind too foggy to think of anything else. You've already lost count of how long it's been since he started.

With your arms pinned above your head, bending over for him as he fucked you with his fingers, spanking your ass and growling in your ear constantly.

Your juices dripping down your legs, your ass red and sore, just as you were a whimpering mess.

What was all this about? He was punishing you for risking your life on the last mission, not only that but you hid a bruise from him. And as the great mentor he was, he needed to teach you why you shouldn't do that. He would make you remember to obey his every rule.

"What was going through your head?" He growls in your ear, taking his fingers out of your cunt, making you whimper at the emptiness he's left.

His hand finds your hair and pulls, his chest resting against your back while his cheek rests against yours, making him look directly at you.

"Answer me." Another growl, now he was making a point of rubbing his erection against you.

You swallowed, biting your lip and starting to say, "I'm sorry."

He scoffed, ruffling your hair again, "I don't understand. Say it again."

From the moment he realized you hesitated, he took his hand out of your hair and slapped you hard on the ass, leaving his five fingers marked on your cheek.

"Sorry, Daddy." You moaned, rolling your eyes and throwing your head back. You could already feel the sting of this slap, just as you could feel that it would leave its mark for a long time.

All you heard from him was a murmur, and he put his thumb on your clit, stroking you once more. Your head was spinning, you'd lost count of how many times he'd let you get close to orgasm, only to stop halfway and leave you wanting.

You deserved it, you fucking deserved it.

"What did daddy say to you? What the fuck did I say about taking inconsequential risks?" Again he hisses in your ear, putting two fingers inside your pussy, moving back and forth, hitting that weak spot of yours that makes you see stars every time.

"That I don't-" you stutter and bite your lip, your body shuddering as you feel him increasing the rhythm of his strokes, smoothing your clit with his thumb.

"Say it, baby girl. Answer me." He sounded more authoritative than he should have, not least because he needed to show you his dominance. He couldn't lose the sweet rookie that you were, there was no way he was going to let anything bad happen to you.

He was older, he'd been in this life for years, and he needed to protect you. The youngest rookie and innocent one, that was more than his responsibility. He was older, so he certainly knew what was best for you.

As soon as he felt your body shivering, your walls tightening around his fingers, the dirty, audible moans coming from your lips again and again. You were going to come, and he wasn't going to give it to you so easily.

"Daddy-," you cried, looking up at him with sly eyes as he withdrew his fingers from you, making it clear that you weren't going to come. Not now.

"If you're a good girl, maybe I'll let you come. But first I need to remind you that you have to obey me, don't you?" He didn't even let you answer him, he just lifted you up and sat with you on a bench.

Making you bend over his lap, he didn't care if you were in a corridor of the base, he didn't care if someone passed by and saw the two of you. The perfect view of your ass on his lap was too much, he already knew what he was going to do perfectly.

"Count with me," he whispers, running his palm over your reddened ass, caressing it and giving it a gentle squeeze. Acting like he was going to be gentle.

You knew it wouldn't be like that.

A smack echoed down the empty corridor, it had been the first slap. Your cheeks burned and ached, but that wouldn't stop him.

"One." You whimper, tears streaming down your cheeks. You had already lost count of how many times he had spanked your ass.

An amused smile escapes him, and he teases, "What? Already regretting it? I haven't even started, baby." As consolation he gives your ass a playful smack.

You just whimpered, pouting at him and wiping away your tears.

Maybe he was feeling sorry for you, but he gave you time to breathe. Whispering sweet nothings to you while caressing your inner thighs.

"You know you're a sweet little girl, don't you?" He purrs, just a tactic to get your attention, and then slaps your ass once more.

More than enough to make you swallow a sob, holding on tightly to the seat.

He gives you a serious look, indicating that he wanted you to continue counting.

"Two." You whisper, trying your best to keep your voice steady.

Another hum comes out of his mouth, and he strokes your ass, as if trying to smooth it over for you.

But he couldn't help, he felt a certain pity for the situation you were in. Your fluids were leaking from your little hole, you were so wet that his fingers slid in and out without him having to make any effort.

"Should I let you cum, doll?" A hypothetical question, because regardless of your answer he wouldn't listen.

He would just give you a taste, and you would only come with his permission. Only when he said yes.

Of course he hated putting you in that situation, but what could he do? You were his beloved rookie, the sweet girl he loved, he couldn't lose you. Not even in his dreams.

Apparently the slaps had stopped for the moment, he had better plans for you.

You were feeling so overwhelmed, the way you were sweating and shivering with every touch, taking sharp breaths every time.

And once again you rolled your eyes, whimpering when he put two digits into you. Moving slowly, so slowly that it was almost torture. You felt the sobs getting stuck in your throat, just as you felt the tears coming down once again, your body being over-stimulated, and yet you hadn't reached the edge once.

Every time he looked at you, he saw how aroused you were, your nipples hard and perked up. Your body trembling and panting for him, your lips quivering as you tried your best to control the noises escaping from you. Not only were the red marks on your ass more than enough to make his cock throb and harden even more, it was already starting to hurt the way his hard member was trapped in his pants.

And he made a point of pushing against you, so that you could feel the state he was in. No, he wasn't at all ashamed of what he was doing, not least because he couldn't wait to bury himself in you.

With both his hands, he spread your ass cheeks, making you jut out for him, so that he had the perfect view of you bending over his lap in such an obscene way.

"Please, please." You beg in a sob, desperate for him to let you come. It was too naughty to keep doing that.

He gives you a naughty little smile, minimally satisfied to leave you in this situation. There he went again, fingering you, this time he went faster, encouraging your clit whenever he could, stroking it with his thumb. Just to give you that feeling that you could reach heaven and hell at the same time.

"What? You're so cute when you're messy like this." A wicked smile forms on his lips, of course he was enjoying it all.

You squirming and moaning in his lap, whimpering and babbling nonsense here and there.

His jaw clenched, just as you could see every muscle in his arm twitching with every movement his hand made on your pussy. The sign of your walls clenching around him was enough to make his cock throb once more.

"Close, please." You whimpered, trying your best to make a sly voice that would convince him.

"Not yet." He whispers, once again bringing you to the edge, only to stop shortly afterwards.

You protest, a pout on your lips and a frown on your face. All he did was laugh, taking you off his lap for a moment.

The next thing you heard was the sound of the zipper opening and Leon undoing his belt. And there it was, hard as stone, pre-cum dripping down the head of his cock.

He pumps himself, slapping his lap and ordering, "Sit."

You obey without a second thought, positioning your soaked slit on his tip, not moving down until he tells you to.

"Good girl, such a sweet little thing." He purrs, one hand holding your hips and the other caressing your cheek, pulling you into a sloppy kiss, bringing your lips together.

You could feel him pressing his tip against you, his pre-cum sticking to you both. The sticky liquid mixing with your own juices.

"You're going to take it all, aren't you?" He says against your lips, biting the underside.

Before you could come up with an answer, he plunged you onto his cock, taking it all in at once, both of you moaning in anticipation.

"Oh... Shit, I'm going to come-" You moan loudly, unable to hold back your own orgasm. The sensation of having him stretch you out in such a way was too much for you to think about anything else.

"What is this? Who gave you permission?" He growls, holding your chin firmly. Making you look directly at him. His other hand holds your hip, preventing you from grinding against him.

"I-I... I'm sorry, Daddy." You say softly, pouting at him.

No, it wouldn't work this time.

"Don't tell me you were so eager to sit on that fucking cock? Mh? Just sitting on it made you cum, did it?" He asked, his voice full of malice and mockery.

You just bit your lip, starting to grind slowly, holding onto his shoulders for support.

"Please." You beg, giving him wet kisses on the cheek.

Without an answer, all you got was a thrust, both his hands gripping your hips and slamming into you hard. His hips moving with incomparable dexterity. You might have been on top, but he was in charge.

He dictated the rhythm and depth of the thrusts, he controlled you. And the greatest incentive was when your velvety walls tightened around him, your throbbing pussy crying out for more.

"Shit, fucking tight." He grunted, hammering his cock into you even harder.

Your eyes rolling back, hips rolling against his, mouth half open and the most impure moans and whimpers coming out of you. The vision was more than perfect for him.

He couldn't stop noticing the way your breasts swayed as you bounced on his cock. His nails in your skin, strong enough to leave marks the next day, as if the slaps hadn't been enough.

From the grunts and growls he let out from time to time, you could bet he was close.

"I'm going to come, inside, that's what you want, isn't it?" He teased, his hands coming down to grip your ass cheeks and spread them open, giving a few playful slaps in the process.

His mouth went to your nipple, swirling his tongue around your hard nipple, sucking as if for the last time. By then you were high, your moans echoing through the empty corridor as you rocked your hips against his.

The last straw was when you squeezed even tighter around him, your body collapsing as you wet his cock for the second time, making your body go numb at the same moment.

His last thrust was deep, grabbing you and pulling you down, going as deep as he could. His seed invaded you, so much so that you could feel the hot liquid oozing out.

His hair stuck to his forehead, his breathing heavy, his body even a little shaky after the orgasm. Oh, you could be sure he enjoyed it as much as you did.

His arms wrap around you and he pulls you close, rocking you and comforting you like a baby. This while he himself was trying to recover from his high.

"Take your time, catch your breath," he whispered, this close to your ear, taking the opportunity to nibble lightly on your earlobe. Only to whisper once more:

"We're not done yet."

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon x reader #leon x y/n #leon x you #leon resident evil #leon kennedy smut #leon scott kennedy x you #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon smut #death island leon #resident evil leon

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thelov3lybookworm · 1 year ago

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I Didn't Ask For This (part seven)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Summary: Marriage had always been something sacred to little Y/n, something dream like, where her husband would come and whisk her away to a fairyland. At least, that's what she had always thought.

All her dreams would be shattered.

But maybe she can salvage them?

•○●⛦●○•

Tw: forced marriage, none more that I can think of, so let me know if I need to add anything.

A/n: Thanks to all the anons who gave me ideas for this! I love you all soo much. Also, the dress is not too scandalous (because girlie would have a heart attack if it were) but enough to make him drool😉

And, also, this one is mostly Nesta and reader's friendship and fluff, but there will be an angsty part soon where babygirl slaps babyboi so bear with me.

Edit: Okay yall, the thing I wrote above? It was before I started writing, and now, let me tell you, there is some angst and sadness too, near the end. I was actually planning for the parts from now on to be mostly fluffy, but this new story line is pretty good too, and filled with angst 😌 and who doesn't love some angst?

•○🌑○•

Y/n sat calmly on Nesta's bed, sipping tea as Nesta threw her clothes out from her wardrobe, searching for something she deemed suitable for the dinner date Y/n was going on with Azriel.

Y/n was going to wear one of her everyday dresses, but when Nesta was told about the dinner, she started panicking as if Y/n was going to a war.

When Y/n said as much, Nesta had flicked her hair back and said, 'there is not much difference between the two. You always take part in it to win.'

And of course, no one could argue with Nesta, so here they were.

Finally, after what seemed like eternity, Nesta came and plopped down next to Y/n, sighing. Y/n set aside her empty tea cup before turning to her.

"And? Did you find something that suited your preferences?" Nesta shook her head sadly before she sat up, excited once more.

"I can ask Mor for something."

"Nesta–"

Y/n didn't have a chance to speak before Nesta was running out of the room. Y/n shook her head and leaned back against the headboard, thinking of what would happen at the dinner.

Soon, Nesta had come back with a black fitted dress. It would have been okay if not for the thin straps that were holding it up and the neckline that concealed nothing.

"You want me to wear that? No. Not happening."

"Come on! It's a beautiful dress! Just for tonight. I won't force you to wear anything again."

Y/n contemplated for a moment before shrugging and taking the dress. When she had changed into it, Nesta forced her to sit in front of the vanity and started doing her hair. It was so elaborate that with every passing moment, Y/n's fear of whether she'd be able to undo it herself increased.

Only time would tell.

•○🌑○•

"Okay, so let's go over this again. If he tries to do something you don't like, what will you do?" Nesta stood next to Y/n, ticking things off on her fingers. She'd been at it long enough that Y/n wondered if she should just go to sleep and cancel the dinner with her husband.

"Nesta! We've been doing this for the past couple of hours! I get what you're trying to say!" When Nesta just stared at her, Y/n sighed. "I tell him I don't like it?"

"No! See, you say you understand what I'm saying, then get all the wrong answers!"

"Then what is the correct answer?"

"You kick him between the legs and run away–"

"Nesta, no–"

"Nesta yes. That's what you will do. Understand?" When Y/n nodded exasperatedly, Nesta continued. "Let's go over this again because you don't pay attention to me. Okay, so–"

Footsteps sounded and Azriel appeared. And, even though Y/n wasn't really excited or interested in going out with him, she still sent out a prayer of thanks to the Nother. Because the longer he took to come, the longer Nesta would go on and on about the subtle art of kicking males.

He suddenly stopped short, his eyes surveying Y/n from head to toe. His lips parted as he slowly looked up into her eyes. His pupils were blown wide, his neck and face flushed. He held a bouquet of flowers in his slack hand. He was wearing a finely tailored suit, which fit him in all the perfect ways, showing off his powerful and beautiful body.

Nesta suddenly snapped her fingers, effectively bringing out the couple from the daze they had been in.

Y/n looked away, blushing, as Azriel cleared his throat. He extended the bouquet to his wife, his face becoming redder as she took it. "For y–" He began, but Nesta cut him off.

"She knows it's for her, obviously."

Azriel blinked, taken aback, before nodding. "I think it'd be best if you–"

"You want me to keep that in your room? I doubt you'd be able to do much with those flowers in your hand." Nesta cut in again, not bothering to hide her glee. Y/n nodded slowly, her eyes jumping between the two in front of her as Nesta took the flowers from her. Azriel stared at a spot behind Y/n, his jaw hard.

"I think we should get–" As he began, Nesta spoke up again, to no ones surprise.

"It's getting late. You should leave–"

"Nesta." Azriel said in a dangerously soft voice, a muscle ticking in his jaw. "Don't you have something to do other than talk about kicking a male and interrupting people when they talk?"

Nesta stared at him, indifferent, her eyebrows raised. Y/n looked away, hiding her small smile behind her hand as she pretended to facepalm.

Finally, after the battle Azriel was engaged in ended–thank the cauldron– he stepped forward and held out his hands. Behind him, Y/n saw Nesta wink at her with a mischievous grin. Y/n smiled back, shaking her head an she took Azriel's hand and he pulled her closer.

They took off into the night air, his hands clutching her tight. The flight to the place he had decided was quiet.

As soon as they landed, he offered her his arm, which she eyed suspiciously before turning away. She could practically feel his embarrassment, self consciousness and awkwardness as he lowered the arm and led her to a table in the back.

From the looks of it, this place was expensive. From the numerous chandeliers and the seating to the cutlery and the finest details on the walls and the designs and the architecture, everything screamed expensive.

He pulled out a seat for her, but she walked to the other one and sat herself down. His face was red a he sat down opposite her. As they ordered their food, Azriel asked the waiter to not use peas as Y/n wasn't really fond of peas.

Y/n's eyes were slightly wide as she regarded Azriel. How did he know? When she said as much, he smiled and explained, "I remember you used to complain about how much you despised peas."

"My preferences could have changed." She pointed out.

His smile faltered. "I'm so sorry, I just assumed–"

"It's okay." She cut him off. "I still don't like them."

The dinner was mostly silent despite Azriel's continuous efforts. Whenever he said something, she just hummed or nodded. When he asked her something, she gave short one word answers.

She didn't want to talk to him, and even though she had agreed to have dinner with him, there had been no promises about talking to him. So she stayed quiet, focusing on the food and occasionally finding him staring at her outfit, his lips parted or him biting them. When he realised he was caught, he would return to his food, his face redder than before.

And, despite her initial resentment of the dress she was wearing, she didn't regret wearing it, if it meant she would get to see this flustered side of him.

Soon, they were done and leaving the restraunt when he spoke up.

"Would you like to take a walk and explore Velaris?" From the look in his eyes, he expected her to say yes. And she would've if she didn't hate him. But she did, and so she wanted to spend minimal time with him.

"No. I would like to go home."

"Oh– okay." He looked away for a moment before picking her up and leaping onto the air. While the ride to the restraunt has been comfortable, the ride back was anything but. It was so tense that a blunt knife could have cut through it.

When they landed on the balcony, she turned to walk away. The tension finally exploded. Or Azriel did. Same thing.

He caught her wrist and tugged her to him, her back against his front as his arm wrapped around her, just below her chest.

"What's the matter with you?" He murmured in her ear, his hot breath washing over her face.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She grunted, trying to get free.

"Is it Nesta? Did she tell you to ignore me?"

"Obviously not. Why would she–"

"Then why? Why have you been so cold towards me? Can't you see I'm trying to make this work? You're making it difficult to–"

"I'm just doing what we agreed to. You wanted to have dinner with me, I did. There was no mention of talking to you."

Finally, she managed to free herself from his suddenly slack hold, and when she turned to him, her chest heaving, she found him gaping at her.

"Are you serious?" He whispered, emotions swirling in his beautiful eyes.

Y/n looked away, knowing she was hurting him. But she couldn't help it. She couldn't hand her heart over so easily, knowing if she did, he would have the power over her, and she couldn't let anyone have that power, not so soon after having her first taste of freedom.

He started laughing, her head whipping to him. He took a step back, then another, turning as silver lined his eyes. He leaned on his palms that rested on the railings, shaking his head, grinning like a maniac. He was quiet for a few moments.

"If you don't want to give me a chance, then just say so. I'll leave you alone. Don't need to pretend–"

"I wasn't–"

"Don't. Fucking don't. I get it. You don't want to be with me. You don't even want to try. Just say the words and I'll leave you alone. Don't need to toy with my heart."

"And what of my heart, Azriel? What if you break my heart?"

"I won't! Why do you think everyone, I, have an obsession with breaking your heart? Why–"

"Because you have done it before Azriel! And I don't think I could handle another heartbreak–"

He whipped around, stepping into her, making her crane her head back to look at him. His head was bent to look at her, their noses nearly touching. "I apologised for that already! And I'm trying to right the wrongs! What else do I need to do to gain your trust? Will hurting me help? You know what? Here." He pulled out the only dagger that he had on him and wrapped her hand around the hilt. She tried to pull away, her eyes wide and her heart beating loudly. But his hold was firm as he put the dagger to his chest, his eyes blazing.

"Stab me. Hurt me. Kill me if that's what it takes for you to–" He didn't finish the sentence, his chest heaving. "Do it." She shook her head, her eyes prickling. He huffed and turned away again, leaning on the railing. "Leave, Y/n. And don't worry, I won't bother you again."

Y/n's chest caved at the emotion in his voice, which shook and broke on the last part. She didn't mean to hurt him, and she knew she should clarify why she couldn't trust him.

Her hand rose, shaking.

But just before she could place it on his tense shoulder, she stopped. Would it help? If she told him the reason, would it mend the wounds she had unknowingly inflicted? She didn't think it would.

So she curled her hand into a fist and let it drop back to her side, stepping back and turning away. She needed some time alone, both of them did. She'd talk to him tomorrow.

And as she walked away, she let the tears slip from her eyes.

But she didn't know that behind her, her husband also let the tears flow, his heart aching.

•○🌑○•

Taglist: @bubybubsters @maxxieluvs @bubbbllee @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @waytoomanyteenagefeels @tell-me-a-poem @the-lake-is-calling @spaxxxi @japanese-wonderland-blog @valeridarkness @moonlwghts @deadratio @esposadomd @harrystylesfan2686 @missusbarnes-rogers @whatthefuckshappeningrn @hyacinthoideshispanica @historygeekqueen @lizziesfirstwife @nastynesta @aroseinvelaris @nightless @cleverzonkwombatsludge @kodokunarisu-blog @selillusion @eos-princess @moonfawnx @a-court-of-milkandhoney @emilyo-218 @wannabewolf @ailyr92 @chronically-online-cheese @myheartfollower @hells-sluttiest-new-arrival @marina468 @menaosama @starryhiraeth @hereticdance @mali22 @valencia-rou @azrielsstarlight @marvelouslovely-barnes @luvmoo @starlight-hope @a-frog-with-a-laptop @fall-myriad @alt-ghost @elleofdragons @ruleroftides @5moremin @stargirl1714

Part 8

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en-gelic · 7 months ago

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໑ ˖ ࣪lowkey ⭑ l.heeseung

💭contents. actor!heeseung x model!f.reader, exes to lovers, fluff, secret dating

@ warnings. slightly suggestive, petnames, parties, drinking, kissing

# ; taglist. @i57berry @cholexc (open - send an ask or comment to be added !)

ʬʬ extras. wc: 1.2k. i got a 48/50 in my history test!!! also my guy friend just confessed and idk what to do pls ><. proofread ! 𓍯 library ๋࣭ ⭑

The moon hung low with a few unimportant clouds as the party commenced in a lively manner. The evening lights in Paris illuminated the streets and lit up the night in the same manner the party lit up your mood. After enjoying the fashion show hosted by Miu Miu for their fall/winter collection 2024-25, the after-party was one of the best ways to end an evening. Sitting at one of the tables, you began to drink the champagne served to you as the guests began streaming your way, seeking to make pleasant conversation with some irritable remarks about your recent behavior and when you would be serious instead of “sleeping around” which was one of your most recent scandals. It was including you and a man you had met once for a magazine shoot but never spoke to. You drank after almost every conversation, making you tipsy almost instantly. The staff that came to assist you had been dismissed as you said that you could get back to your hotel yourself. With your assistant and driver gone, your gaze lazily hovered around the room halting at seeing a man sitting alone drinking bronze coloured liquid in glass. You watched his ethereal face, decorated with a soft but defined jawline, deep umber eyes set solely on the grim outdoors, and felt your heart skip a beat as he smiled at someone who began to strike a conversation with him, his perfect teeth brightening your previously irritated mood. You recognized his face and instantly remembered who he was. Debating with yourself, you contemplated walking up to him, weighing the consequences mentally. After all, you both still liked each other. Or you still liked him, but it was your fans and your companies that didn't. Finally, you made a decision and touched up your makeup before sanding up to sit beside him. He turned his attention to you, amusement glinting in his eyes. Your carmine lips stretched into a charming smile as you recalled the memories you tried to bury away.

Your ex-boyfriend from college and an actor, Lee Heeseung, mostly known for his role in Nevertheless, which enraged almost everyone who watched it. Including you, who watched it more than once imagining you were the main girl instead. You watched as he analyzed your figure shamelessly until his eyes pulled up your body and burned into yours. Music began pouring into your ears and you could barely hear what he was saying next. You felt back to normal by the intensity of his gaze. He continued speaking inaudibly as the music seemed to be ringing louder than usual. Turning to face him properly, you pulled his collar lightly, bringing his ear down to your mouth as you whispered, “I can’t hear you.” Your lips brushed the shell of his ear, your lipstick slightly staining his ear red. He pulled back and softly adjusted your head so that his mouth was near your ear, “Let’s go somewhere more exclusive, pretty girl.” His hot breath fanned your ear as his calm lowered voice rapidly increased your heartbeat. You nodded, understanding the place he was talking about. Pulling back, his smile deepened into a grin as he tugged at your wrist, pulling you out of the venue, one hand on your waist to stabilize you as your feet slightly collided with each other, the aftereffects of your drinking.

Emerging through the busy streets, the illuminating lights shining as though it was for the two of you. You relished the feeling of his hand in yours and messed around with his rings, gently lifting them and putting them back down again. You walked together, as the sounds of bustling nightlife interrupted your conversation again. Memorabilia pooled into your mind as you remembered him initiating the break-up between the two of you, seemingly unbothered about the idea of leaving you. You hadn’t been observing enough at the time to see the puffiness under his eyes and the dryness of his face. Later, you found that actors are some of the best liars, second to criminals.

Your hotel room was tremendously large, especially for one person. After all that walking, you still felt the exhilarating freedom the champagne gave you, but in more moderation as your sanity rose above the surface of your tipsiness. You had eagerly invited him into your room, pouring him a glass of wine as you watched him look at the twinkling lights outside your balcony. He looked even better now that he was slightly disheveled by the continuous walking, his tie pulled down, the first few buttons on his shirt open for air circulation.

“You look like a school delinquent.” You teased, setting the glass of wine in front of him, taking your seat beside him.

“Don’t you like that?” He asked, referring to one of your answers to an interview on what sort of style you liked the most in high school. He turned his head to face you, his teasing grin matching yours perfectly. You leaned closer to his lips, watching as his gaze was fixated on yours. “Only on you, pretty boy.” You leaned a bit closer, holding it there, so your lips were almost nearly touching, your breaths mingling together.

“I think we could do it.” He said, moving his head to your neck. You understood what he was talking about, feeling his breath fan against your neck.

“As long as we keep it lowkey.” He hummed in agreement, lowering his head to your neck, trailing kisses down to your collarbone. You didn’t know whether it was the alcohol still functioning in your system, but you captured his face in your hands, bringing him to face you completely. “But this time, we’ll do it my way.” He hummed again, this time caging you in your chair, colliding your lips together in an action that displayed longing, confirming that it wasn't just you who missed this.

Your eyes trailed the room for his figure. It had been months after you both decided to give it a try. The constant push and pull of a secret relationship added thrill to a life that could get mundane easily. You both felt like two elementary students with a secret. It was even better now that you were invited to the same party, reminding you of the day you reestablished your relationship. Your dark hair cascaded down your back, slightly brushing your shoulder as the wind caused it to go wayward. You found him sitting alone drinking bronze colored liquid in glass, staring at you. He directed a smile to you, and you reciprocated his action. You sat alone for a while, exchanging secret eye contact with Heeseung every time you got the chance. You caught his hands make a signal as he stood up, leaving the venue. Quickly excusing yourself, you followed him soon after, entering a hallway long hallway. You found his tall figure immediately, watching as his lips pulled into a smile as you appeared in his view. He tugged at your hand, pulling you through the hallway, reaching the end of it where he sandwiched you between the wall and him. You gazed up at him, watching as he grinned down at you.

"You know it's a sin to look at a man like that, my love." He remarked, burying his face in your neck, knowing the action would give you a double take. You pushed his head back to face you again, putting a hand on his lips, blocking him from leaning down again. You took the hand that formed a cage around you and clasped it around your own. You moved your hand slightly to place a peck on his soft lips.

"Let's continue this at my house."

#lia writes ๋࣭ ⭑౨ৎ #heeseung imagines #enhypen imagines #lee heeseung #lee heeseung imagines #writing #enhypen fluff #heeseung fluff #･･✸ en-gelic #･･✸ lia writes !#—🗯 lia blabs

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honey-on-your-tongue · 2 years ago

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Okay so ive got this idea its like a lot older jake and younger reader (like 20+) and she goes thru her first heat but she is very innocent and she doesnt know why does it hurt THERE and jake sees her going thru pain and asks whats wrong and she tells him it hurts there and she asks if he knows a way to heal her and when he takes off her lioncloth shes shy and closes her tights but the second he starts fingering she starts to moan and beg for more and he fucks her dumb ykyk🫣🤭I’ve tought of this while in the bus going to a dance competition lmao😭��

I hope it went well in your competition baby!!

Dilf Jake to the rescue again 😩😩😩

Didn't proofread sooo if you see any mistakes, no you didn't

-----

You're supposed to be on your way to train, but it hurts. It feels like something warm is spreading over your body, making your womb coil with a burning ache, a wetness smear over your thighs. You've already missed over three training session with the oloeyktan, and you don't think he'll be particularly thrilled.

Yet, today, you decide that if anyone can help you, it's him. He's gotta be extremely wise if he's the oloeyktan, right? Jake Sully is no dummy, you're sure he'll know what's wrong with you.

As you approach the clearing where you always train, you catch a wiff of Jake's scent and it sends a sharp yearning through you, straight between your legs. You mewl, pressing your thighs together as the pain increases.

Jake smells you a mile off. You've missed your last training sessions, but he still waits at your designated place in hopes that you'll show. And, from the smell of it, you indeed will. The moment you step into the clearing, Jake realizes why you've been skipping your lessons.

You're in heat.

When you come into view, Jake can already tell you're suffering deeply. Your ears are folded back, your pupils blown wide, and the scent of your slick is sweet and alluring.

“Hey, kid,” he greets, trying to keep his cock from hardening at your scent. “What happened to ya?”

“It hurts,” you whine, making a face as you approach him.

“What hurts?”

You blush softly, shy, before moving a hand to your pussy and cupping it. “Here,” you say quietly, lowly.

Jake can almost feel his heart jump out of his chest. He's got two options: he can be the mature man he is and tell you, a 22 year old, exactly what's happening, and send you to Mo'at for some herbs to help ease the pain; or, he can be the horny ass he is and help you through your heat his way.

Either way, he figures, he's helping you. What's the difference between both if the outcome benefits you?

And, he decides, it wouldn't hurt if it benefitted him at the same time.

“Lemme see,” he says, nodding at the ground. “Lie down for me, yeah?”

You look scandalized and unsure, a little afraid.

“Come on, kid. Trust me,” he insists, and after a few more seconds of hesitance, you comply.

You lie on the floor, the soft grass tickling your back and your ass as you plant your feet on the ground. Jake kneels in front of you, undoing your loincloth and tossing it aside.

Your knees are pressed together, stopping him from getting a good look, and he says, “I need you to spread your legs, girl. Don't you want me to help you?”

You nod slowly and open your thighs, revealing your swollen, soaked pussy. Jake's cock twitches under his loincloth at the sight of your cunt, and he just aches to fuck you.

Jake's eyes grow predatory, his pupils dilating, and the way he's studying you makes you squirm, shy. You press your thighs together, murmuring something unintelligible, and Jake tsks quietly.

He grabs your thighs and pushes them apart, revealing your pussy once again. The scent of your heat is even thicker now, and it makes a soft growl leave his lips.

“How long has it been hurting for, girl?” he asks, one of his hands wandering higher up your thigh, inching towards your cunt.

You struggle to reply, “Days.”

“How many days?” he questions as his fingers brush over your warm cunt, rubbing against your clit.

You gasp, surprised, and then mewl quietly as the ache in your womb finds a drop of relief. “I don't-don't know,” you manage, nails digging into the ground below.

“I see,” he hums, running his middle and index fingers between your folds, spreading them open before teasing your entrance. “Luckily, this has an easy fix.”

“It does?” you question, voice breathy.

“Want me to show you?”

Your big doe eyes are wide, innocent and curious. You nod eagerly. “Please, Jake. Help me.”

He chuckles quietly. “Alright, kid. I need you to relax, okay? Take a deep breath and just talk with me, hm?”

“Okay,” you say slowly as his middle finger traces the edge of your entrance.

“I trust you know where babies come from?” he jokes, and you blush, big doe eyes avoiding his dark gaze.

“Yes,” you say shyly, and Jake slides his finger into you, making you gasp softly.

“Well, what's going on with you has a lot to do with the birds and the bees,” he says, curling his finger upward and touching a swollen spot within you that makes your legs jerk. “Your body is asking for a baby,” he explains.

Through the pleasure, you look confused. “Why?”

“You're physically ready to start having kids, and you're extremely fertile right now, which is why you feel that ache inside of you that needs to be relieved.”

You fold your ears back as he slides a second finger into you. “And will it go away—ah, mphf—after what you-you're doing to me?”

He chuckles softly. “No, you need to get withchild for it to stop,” he informs you.

You groan, somewhere between frustrated and overcome by pleasure. Jake's fingers are good, they stretch you open, his thumb pressing against a soft nub that has your hips trembling. But they're not enough. You need something else, something longer, thicker, something that can take the ache away.

“Need more,” you whine, baring your teeth. “Need more, Jake. Please!”

“My fingers ain't cutting it, sweetheart?” he tsks.

“Please,” you mewl, desperately trying to buck your hips against his hand. “More.”

Jake knows he shouldn't. He knows how wrong this is. But fuck, the way you're begging, pussy al wet and ready, and Goddamn, he really should reflect upon the consequences of his moral decisions. But after. After he fucks you.

He removes his loincloth, showing you his thick, hardened cock, the tip a dark blue and oozing precum. Your eyes gleam as you study his girth, mouth almost watering at the sight.

Jake asks, “You sure you want this, kid?”

You nod, your voice a breathy whine. “Yes, please.”

He runs the head of his cock between your folds, gauging your reaction, and when you shudder, he groans. He slowly slides into you, his cock stretching your soft gummy walls, and you gasp.

“Fuck,” Jake grunts as your cunt flutters around him. “So fuckin' tight. And soaked, too.” Your slick is dripping down his cock, coating his balls and smearing onto his hips when he starts thrusting into you.

You're whining beneath him, unable to even talk. Jake glances down at you, his eyes scanning your pretty face, the way your eyelids flutter shut, the way your ears are folded back. He can't even care how wrong this is anymore: he's just thanking that you're too innocent to prevent him from using you.

“Does it feel good, sweet?” he questions, your pussy squelching as your arousal dribbles out of you.

“Mhmm!” you gasp. You grind your hips against Jake's, pussy sucking him in, your womb feeling like it's on fire with each brush of his cock to your cervix.

And Jake smirks. “You poor thing,” he mocks. “Look at you, suffering so much.” He cages your body under his, dragging his tongue across your jaw. “Almost makes me want to give you a permanent solution to this issue of yours.”

You moan softly. “What—wh' d'you mean?”

He laughs, biting your jaw and making you gasp. “What if I were to give you a baby, hm? Put my child in you.”

Your eyes snap open, looking terrified. “N-no, we can't.”

“It's a solution for both of us,” Jake continues, adoring the look of fear on your face. “You get rid of your heat, and I get to keep you all to myself, huh?”

“But—the others,” you gasp. What will they say?

“I don't care about the others,” he says sharply. “I'm asking you what you want.”

Your eyes meet his. Beneath the predatory amber of his eyes, you see something soft and warm, something caring.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” he asks. “You want me t'fill you up?”

“Please,” you say softly, nodding. “Give me a baby, Jake. Please!”

Jake groans, his cock twitching inside of you at the sound of your plead. Your cunt is so tight, almost begging him for his cum, and he's more than willing to give it to you.

Your womb is ablaze with the need to be full, your body thrumming with desire.

You mewl and gasp unintelligibly, your hands grabbing onto Jake's arms and digging your nails into his muscles.

He lowers his mouth to yours, his heart racing because, without taking everything that you're already doing, this feels more intimate than anything else.

His kiss is soft and gentle, slow, and it makes your heart flutter in your chest. It's probably the way it all suddenly feels so passionate and soft that has your orgasm right on the surface.

You clench around his cock, body shaking, and Jake groans. “You gonna come for me, girl? You gonna come on my cock?”

“Mhmm!” you mewl. “Yes, yes!”

And then you can feel the pressure within you coil tight, so tight, and suddenly your orgasm bursts within you, your slick gushing out of you.

“That's it,” Jake groans, his own release so close. “Fuck, 'm gonna fill you up now, girl. Fuck,” he hisses.

And then he's coming, spilling into you, and you gasp, shuddering as his cum fills your womb. You're breathing heavily, chest heaving up and down, and finally the ache deep within you dissipates.

Jake kisses your forehead, chucking softly. “You feelin' better, honey?”

You nod, out of breath, and Jake moves to pull out of you.

You squeeze his arm, keeping him inside of you. “Stay,” you manage, breathing heavily.

Jake nods. “Okay.” He rolls you two over so he's on his back and you're on top of him, and he holds you tight to his chest.

You fall asleep to the soft sound of his beating heart.

-----

@kamcrazy123 @yagirlheree @sweetllamaparadise @neytirishottie @crazy4books1

-----

Blog masterlist

#inbox <3 #avatar jake sully #jake sully x reader #avatar smut #jake sully smut #jake sully #dilf jake sully

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snowabb · 13 days ago

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[Funny Theory] in UT&dr, socks = underwear

(↑my art↑)

I think a lot of you have seen it, but I want to put it all together more comprehensively:

Socks may be similar to underwear in monster culture.

This is the text that appears when you look at Toriel's sock drawer.

When you look at the Sans pile of dirty socks, this comes up. Once again, socks are tied to "scandalous."

Papyrus has a negative review of Sans' hobby of collecting socks.

In Sans and Papyrus' home, we see them "arguing" about socks, and Papyrus doesn't want to touch Sans' socks, probably because socks are personal items like pants. It's hard for me to comment on the fact that Sans would still have something like this in the living room.😅😅😅

During Shyren's concerts, the monsters acted this way, whereas in real life, people usually throw underwear, such as bras and panties, at performers at concerts.

If this theory is true, no matter how strange the Sans hobby may be, Asgore, who created it, is even stranger. This information comes from this xbox article.

* you're gonna have to meet him, huh. * bet that's a lot of pressure. * so, i guess if it makes anything easier... * don't think of him as the king. * just think of him as the guy who gave me some socks. * those were the days before i took sock collecting seriously...

...

Who gives gifts like that when they meet? Hey!! I laugh at this theory myself, but when I mention it to a male gamer friend I know, he says, "It's normal and practical for best brothers to give each other underwear."

: ... Strange knowledge increased ah!!

Finally, add the relevant evidence in dr, which is from the hidden page of the Spt's Sweepstakes.

The page is called "(private…) and the URL stated that it was a fitting room.

There is a curtain on the screen, which is pulled open when you click, and one of the darkner is wearing socks. When someone sees him putting on his socks, he gets embarrassed, screams (yes, there's a sound effect lol) and pulls the curtain.

Thus, this theory may also hold true in dr. It's a setting that fits Toby's mental state, and I wouldn't be surprised if it was admitted outright.

One of the official merchandise on fangamer was a sock with a bunch of white dogs on it, which also appeared on the Sans feet of one of the fangamer posters…

Well, it looks like Toby will make himself on underwear and use it to dress his most popular character! 😲😲😲(Just kidding)

Thank you for your reading, please point out if there is anything wrong with my wording, and welcome a friendly discussion.

#fanart #undertale #undertale fanart #sans #papyrus #chara #frisk #undertale theory #deltarune #socks #I don't know about you guys but in the Chinese community it's a shock.

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it-was-funeral-grey · 3 months ago

Text

Trust, where there shouldn't be (1/2) (Al Haitham x F!Reader)

Masterlist Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8(wip!)

Summary: just when things were supposed to settle down, trouble stirs again- this time, with the fate of sumeru potentially hanging in the balance.

Warnings: mention of murder, crime, getting arrested, water,

Word count: < 3.3k

Inspired by: -

Author's note: this has been in my drafts for way too long! i'm back!! this chapter is a little more kaveh and cyno centric! i hope this chapter is ok :) its been so long since i wrote- had a lot going on! i'm going to have to recall the original plot i wanted to roll with, and check up on genshin lore!

Please give criticism! Also, if i missed any warnings, do tell me so i can add them!

Usually, offences unrelated to the Akademiya were handled by the Mahamata- Sumeru's civil administration branch. To be specific, the crime division- which consists of the Corps of Thirty and the Mahamata investigation department (which overlapped with the Matra on occasion).

However, this isn't the case anymore for places outside Sumeru City. The work of the Mahamata is extremely procedure-heavy, which often translates into heavy reliance on Akasha Terminals to help speed up and manage the workload. As such, when the Akasha Terminals were shut down, what followed was nothing short of a mess. Nobody could remember what to do when faced with certain situations, and even if they did, it often was after a lot of work had piled up. Tasks like recording, which had been done solely by the Akasha Terminals, now have to be done manually (so now there's also a labour shortage in the Mahamata)- and of course, to make everything worse, all records before this have been destroyed together with the Terminals.

No one could start anything, no one could finish anything, nothing was being done; and at least from a law enforcement perspective, the growing public dissatisfaction with the whole situation- the Akademiya scandal, the current state of the nation and its administration, and the now scarily apparent increasing crime rate- is a growing threat to public order. The Mahamata is failing- or perhaps more accurately, has failed everywhere except Sumeru City, which had only survived this ordeal because Al Haitham was there to sort it out before things got out of hand.

To manage this, Al Haitham had instructed the Matra to help in regions that had seen a complete administrative shutdown. Cyno didn't see an issue- after all, the Matra didn't have much to do due to the small number of ongoing research projects (fewer academic violations). As such, the General Mahamatra had sent some of his most capable and trusted Matra to take over Mahamata duties- and he's proud to say that they have been carrying out their new duties exceptionally. Every once in a while, he'll get a report back from his dispatched Matra about their current status- and it all seems to be going fine, for now.

Port Ormos, however, was a strange case. In other regions where Al Haitham's Matra-Mahamata system was applied, it had worked perfectly- things began to pick up again, and, for at least now, some sense of public order had been restored. However, due to the unique circumstances in Port Ormos, the Matra-Mahamata system didn't change anything. The Port Ormos Crash meant nothing was happening at the port- there was no one there. There is nothing to administrate or anything to do. The only notable thing in the reports sent back to Cyno was that the Corps of Thirty Division in Port Ormos was gone; according to Rashim (the Matra he had sent there to take over Port Ormos's lead Mahamata's duties), it was because the Wikala Funduq's trade supervisors had dismissed them due to the lack of business- no business meant no people in the port, which meant that policing staff weren't needed. When Cyno had escalated this to Al Haitham in the name of security concerns for the people living at and around the port, the man had let out the loudest sigh he had ever heard.

"Well, it certainly explains why the people around that area have been calling the Matra of all people for crime reports," Cyno informed, placing Rashim's report on Al Haitham's packed desk. "What is your instruction, Acting Grand Sage Al Haitham?"

"Could you spare any more of your Matra?" Al Haitham doesn't look up at him as he scans through a document. Cyno doesn't take it personally. "Send any that you can to Port Ormos. They'll take over the policing side of things until the Mahamata is stable enough to re-contract and manage the Corps of Thirty again."

"Very well," Cyno agrees as he watches Al Haitham quickly sign at the end of the page before picking up a new one. His new office above the House of Daena is dimly lit, but even so, Cyno can see the dark circles under his friend's eyes. "Al Hai-"

"Is that all?"

No. No, it wasn't. Cyno wants to ask if there's anything else he could do. If there is anything more that he could do. He has never felt so helpless before, watching his friend stress all alone while he watches.

The silence causes Al Haitham to look up at him, pen in hand, impatiently waiting for a response- and Cyno feels the question disappear from his lips.

"Yes- yes, that's all."

He couldn’t have done it. In hindsight, Al Haitham being the culprit makes zero sense.

Yes, he may have been the last person to see Mr Dilawar. And yes, the Matra did find bloody clothing in his overnight bag. But under scrutiny, several small details don’t add up.

For example, his movements on the day of the murder. No murderer would have stayed any longer in Vimara Village after killing someone there. Much less take time to wander around the village the next morning, buy groceries and chat about books for the next half a day.

Next, the murder weapon. The Matra found a bloody kitchen knife next to Mr Dilawar and deemed it the murder weapon. The doctor that they brought along also agreed. But knowing Al Haitham and what he can do, it makes little sense- why use something that can be found when he could use his sword and then make it disappear?

Nothing makes sense. Once you got over the initial shock and thought things through, Al Haitham being the killer makes no sense.

Or perhaps this is all just your wishful thinking- maybe you’re just trying to squeeze out any tiny, irrelevant inconsistency to convince yourself that the man is innocent.

You just don’t want him to be guilty, you scold yourself as you pace mindlessly outside your house. You don’t want to believe that a guy who would be so kind to you, chat with you about books, buy groceries for you when you were too scared to do so, would go and butcher a man and act so casual about it.

What do you even know about Al Haitham anyway? You’ve only known him for less than a week. Perhaps this is what he’s actually like, under all that kindness and gentleness and-

"It's you!"

The loud exclamation shocks you out of your ruminations. Where have you heard this voice before?

"It's me! Kaveh! Remember me?" You hear the loud sound of rushing footsteps before a hand grabs your shoulder and pulls. The force makes you spin on your heel, and you turn, finally seeing the man himself. His golden hair is in a mess- the feather on his head shoved haphazardly around his fringe- and he's drenched from head to toe. Did he run here? Or swim?

"Kaveh? What are you doing here?"

"I- it's a long story," Kaveh pants, removing his wet hand from your shoulder. "Do you know where the detention rooms are?"

"It's not too far from here," you point towards a dirt path leading away from your house, and Kaveh prepares to bolt in that direction. You quickly grab his arm before he does. "Kaveh, wait! Is this about Al Haitham?"

Through the warm, wet fabirc of his sleeve, you feel his arm tense up. So, it is about Al Haitham.

"You've heard about it too," he sighs, turning to face you. He lowers his voice as you release his arm. "I thought that they were trying to keep it under wraps. If news got out that the Acting Grand Sage got arrested for killing somebody right after the whole Akademiya Sage saga..."

You shudder at the implication of his words. It would be chaos if word got out about Al Haitham's arrest. Regardless of innocence, nobody would be able to accept someone who was suspected of murder to lead the country. And in the state that Sumeru is in, she won't survive another political crisis.

"Let's speak somewhere quieter," you lead Kaveh towards your home. "Come on in."

The first thing Kaveh notices when he enters her house is how packed it is with books but not with anything else.

"Do you want anything to drink?" She asks as she shuts her front door. "I'll go get you a towel. You look like you ran all the way here. Or swam all the way here. Or both?"

"I did," Kaveh groans, treading carefully so he doesn't wet her living room. Her sofa is a lovely shade of green; it matches her wallpaper perfectly. Now, if she moves that stack of books a little more to the left... "I snuck onto the boat Cyno and the Matra took here this morning and was kicked off about halfway when they caught me. I was worried about what Cyno was planning, so I ran all the way. The swimming was involuntary."

"Cyno is here?" Kaveh hears her step back into the living room. She hands him a glass of warm water and a towel, gesturing him to take a seat before sitting opposite him. "Wait, start from the beginning, how did you find out?"

"It's a long, long story," Kaveh sighs, sinking into the couch. "Basically..."

That arrogant, unbearable, stupid fungi took his keys again. Couldn't he at least have returned it before he left for Vimara Village?!

"I swear I'm going to kill him when he gets back," Kaveh complains from the couch. The General Mahamatra's office is comfortable, but not so much so that he would be happy to sleep on it for the night. A sigh comes from the table behind him, and Kaveh turns to face the shorter man.

"And when I take my keys back from his corpse, I'm never leaving it in the key holder ever again!"

"I guess you've locked onto a solution," Cyno quips, and Kaveh responds with a groan. "Do you want me to call Ahangar to unlock the door for you? He does locksmithing services too. We could ask him to duplicate a spare key."

"That's beside the point. The point is-"

"General Mahamatra!" The door bursts open before Kaveh can finish, nearly shocking him off the couch. It's one of Cyno's Matra. She doesn't seem to see him- beelining over to Cyno's desk, holding a letter towards him. From where Kaveh lies, he spots a red wax seal keeping the envelope shut. "An urgent message from Rashim!"

"Rashim?" Cyno seems to have spotted the red seal and frowns. Kaveh hears Cyno's chair drag against the floor as he stands- and the mood in the room shifts. Something big has happened. Something bad? "Did you rush over here from Port Ormos, Shohre?"

Kaveh knows he shouldn't be listening to this conversation. Whatever is going on here is clearly important, confidential, and for Akademiya folk to deal with. He should excuse himself, let Cyno deal with the issue in peace, and head to the tavern to order all the wine and place it on Al Haitham's tab.

But, whatever is going on here is clearly interesting, and Kaveh is bored (and for the record, this is all Al Haitham's fault- he wouldn't be so bored if he could go home and continue his architectural models). So, he decides to lie perfectly still on the couch; perhaps if he doesn't move, Cyno will forget that he's here and not chase him out. Let him hear the tea, please.

"Yes. This is a matter of utmost importance!" From where Kaveh lurks, he hears Shohre (who Kaveh slowly figures out is most likely a Matra stationed at Port Ormos) shift closer towards Cyno. "Rashim currently has the situation under control, so he sent me to deliver the message."

"But why send you? This letter would have sufficed."

"Due to the nature of the situation, Rashim felt that the matter had to be handled with confidentiality. The letter is for your eyes only- I was to ensure that," Shohre answers. "I was also to answer any questions regarding the incident at hand. Only the simplest details were included in the letter as a precaution."

There's a rustling of paper- an envelope opening, perhaps? Kaveh pictures Cyno tearing into the sealed paper as he holds his breath. What could have happened?

Silence. But just when Kaveh is about to lift his head and take a peek at the two-

SLAM!

"You can't be serious," Cyno's voice drops to a deadly whisper- a stark difference from the loud slam that reverberated through the room. Kaveh hears the crumpling of paper. "Is this a joke?"

"It isn't. Rashim is requesting your presence in Vimara Village at once."

"This is ridiculous," Cyno's voice takes an angry tone. Kaveh doesn't dare move. "How could this happen?"

If Shohre responds, Kaveh doesn't hear it.

"How many people know about this?"

"Only the Matra who are involved in the investigation. And two villagers from Vimara Village; both have been sworn to secrecy," Shrohre blurts. "One of the villagers is a witness; the other was in the vicinity when the Acting Grand Sage was arrested-"

"I'm sorry, arrested?!" The sudden mention of Al Haitham is apparently enough for Kaveh to forget fear and jump off the couch. Shohre screams. Cyno whips out his polearm. Kaveh ignores both. "What happened to Al Haitham? Is he alright? Is-"

"You are not allowed here, what are you-"

"Cyno! What did Al Haitham do-"

SLAM!

"Enough!" The sound of Cyno's polearm hitting against the cool marble tiles shocks the two out of their squabbling. "Kaveh. I forgot you were here."

"That was kind of the point at first."

"Shohre. I'll handle this," Cyno turns to the Matra, dismissing her. "I'll meet you at the docks."

Kaveh doesn't miss the wary glance Shohre shoots at him- but decides to look at Cyno instead. When the door shuts, Cyno sighs, turning back towards Kaveh.

"I know you have questions-"

"Yeah, no sh-"

"But," Cyno interrupts with a heavy look. Kaveh feels a chill go down his spine. "You need to forget everything you've just heard."

What?

"I'm serious, Kaveh. No one can know what you just heard," Cyno folds his arms, staring Kaveh down. "You aren't even supposed to know."

"You can't just tell me to forget after hearing that!" Kaveh scoffs. The audacity! "My fri- housemate just got arrested for Archons knows what, and you're telling me to just go on my merry way?!"

"Like I said, I'll call a locksmith to open your door-"

"That's not the point! I want answers! I want to know if he's okay!"

"He's fine!" Cyno raises his voice. Tempers are rising in the room. "As fine as someone who just butchered a man would be." He spits.

Silence.

"What did you just say?"

"Nothing," Cyno flinches away, walking towards the door. "You should leave, Kaveh."

"Butchered someone? Al Haitham murdered someone?" Kaveh takes a step back. "Cyno, what?!"

"Kaveh, please go. Don't make me arrest you."

"... and so I left, kind of. I followed Cyno to the dock where his boat was waiting and snuck on," Kaveh recalls. "But halfway, I was betrayed by my rumbling stomach and was caught by the Matra onboard."

"And they dropped you off at the nearest shore?" she pokes, glancing at the water dripping onto her floor.

"I wish. Cyno kicked me off the boat. Literally." Kaveh shivers at the memory, pulling at his wet clothes. "Seriously! He's acting like a Pyro Fungi! He's been acting like a prick ever since he heard the news!"

She doesn't say anything in response, only nodding at him to continue. And continue Kaveh will. He has a lot to say. But perhaps more to think about.

"I know Cyno is just doing his job," Kaveh sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Confidentiality I get, but he didn't have to dismiss me like that. I'm worried. The dude I live with just got arrested for murder. I think being disturbed since I live with said person is not overreacting."

"So you think he did it?" she queries softly. So softly that Kaveh would have missed it if he couldn't see her mouth move. "You think that Al Haitham is a murderer?"

"I- no, that's not it," Kaveh cups his hands around the warm mug. "I don't know. This is just- I don't know."

And that's the big question, isn't it? The question he's been avoiding.

Al Haitham is a machine. He's logical to a fault. He takes a situation, analyses it, finds the best course of action and carries it out. He cuts out all the emotional aspects of a situation unless he can use it to his advantage- something Kaveh hates about him. He doesn't care about the feelings of others- something Kaveh hates even more about him.

With all this being said, is it that much of a stretch that Al Haitham may kill someone to accomplish a goal? Kaveh can see it- Al Haitham, taking his blade and piercing it into someone's chest. In Kaveh's mind, Al Haitham doesn't hesitate. He doesn't look back. He doesn't think about what he had just done, only what happens next.

"...aveh. Kaveh!"

"Yes!" Kaveh jerks in his seat. "Sorry, what were you saying again?"

"No, I wasn't...I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." she fiddles with her fingers. She doesn't meet Kaveh's gaze. "I didn't mean to ask that. You must be exhausted."

"I am," Kaveh slumps back into his seat. The towel is doing wonders to absorb the water on him. He'll be dry in no time. "Conflicted and tired. And..."

Hurt.

Kaveh is hurt.

As much as he doesn't want to admit it, a part of him- a much younger, naive and carefree Kaveh who knew the stoic, pensive Al Haitham before the fall out- still believes that his friend (or at least, the friend he knew) is still somewhere in there. Past all the arguments, the passive-aggressive taunts, the lock-outs, Kaveh knows that Al Haitham isn't the machine that he makes him out to be.

But he can't take that leap of faith and trust that he's innocent. He and Al Haitham are too far gone for that. Well, not so far gone that they don't talk or are totally incapable of living together, but still not close enough. Not on the level they used to be, where Kaveh would have believed anything that came out of Al Haitham's mouth. Whatever semblance of friendship they have now is not enough for Kaveh to convince himself that Al Haitham won't go and kill a person. It's not enough. But it could have been. It should have been. And that's what hurts the most.

Call Kaveh a dreamer. A brightsider. A hopeless hoper, if you will. But this fool had believed that one day, in the not-so-distant future, they would somehow make amends and return to the two friends they used to be in the Akademiya. They would joke, share ideas, and not let a difference in ideals come between them. Kaveh had been waiting for a day like that. Kaveh had truly believed that a day like that would come. But now it won't. Al Haitham had gone and butchered someone for Archon knows what reason, and with that, slain whatever hope Kaveh had of getting his old friend back.

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