#I really just never used this thing again

[tonycries]

50 Shades of Kento - N.K.

Synopsis. You help your hot uptight boss blow off some much-needed steam, and he makes an absolute mess of you - that annoyingly flirty new employee of his. Deal?

Pairing. Nanami Kento x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! flirty!reader, CEO! Nanami, office AU, pánty-stealing, jealousy (Nanami’s side), Higuruma cameo, he goes FÉRAL, ROUGH S, chokíng, semi-public, manhandIing, p talking, p sIapping, spítting, slight angry s, he’s BIG, cervíx kíssing, talking you through it, oraI (fem rec.), creampíes, cúmplay, male mast., ínnuendos, no curses AU, slight bóndage, use of “work wife”, proposals, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 9.7k

A/N. CEO Nanami? I wanna be SAVED.

“-the boss looks really mad-”

“-where’s he storming off to before the meeting?”

“Bet he’s going to fire someone again-”

Now, it’s not like Nanami Kento intentionally built himself such a painfully strict reputation in the office. 

In fact, he’d spent the first few months as CEO wondering just what he might have done to make it so that none of his employees could even look him in the eye. Hell, they barely even seemed to breathe whenever he passed by. 

All of them except you - that pretty new hire always buzzing around his department. Even when it might not be too…professional. 

But, right now, professionalism was the last thing on his mind. 

“Dammit. Dammit.” Nanami’s hissing, sharp edges of his pearly whites sinking into his bottom lip to stifle away a ragged moan. Hard enough to bruise when he shuts the nearest bathroom stall with a resounding clatter! “B-before a meeting, too-”

Barely wasting even a split-second before unbuckling his belt and inching his greedy hand past the too-tight hem-

All because of you and that damn skirt.

“God fucking dammit-” His voice tumbles out in heady puffs into the air, murked with a growling tint of desperation.

Fingers usually so dexterous and deft whenever he’s typing away, now fumbling with the mere latch on his stubborn zipper. He’s spitting out a few slews of profanities before panting out an impatient tut and all but ripping his formal slacks down to his knees. 

Nanami’s sculpted thighs weaken, smearing out widely as he leans his back against the firmly shut door with a groan. Cold against his feverish body. 

Shit, he’d barely even touched himself yet already feels like he’s melting.

Because Nanami wasn’t just rock-hard - it was as if his swollen cock was built out of fucking diamonds. 

Hot. Heavy. Sobbing out a glistening streak of precum that slobbers access his washboard abs and wayyy down to his tawny happy trail. He wanted you. He needed you. 

“Fuh-fuck!” He gasps, instantaneously clamping his delirious mouth shut. Loosening that yellow speckled tie just so he can breathe, “Never been sooo fucking h-hard. Shit this isn’t- fuck.”

Achy red shaft throbbing out a needy ba-dump—! in his meaty palm, ribbons of treacly pre splatter in copious torrents down to his angled wrist. He’s making such a puddling mess all over the tiled floor, swiping up the fatly padded curve of his thumb to plug up those never-ending droplets. 

“N’ this is all your hngh- fucking fault.” Nanami’s canines glint in the dimmed lighting, snarled at that strawberry pink blush on his mushroomed tip. The very same shade of pink to match your flimsy panties today. Fuck. “Should fire you. Should really, r-really…”

But the heaving man can’t even finish those syllables, can barely even finish his thought before it’s once more overtaken by that image of you from only a few simple minutes ago. 

Knees bent to pick up some useless document for the meeting, too-short skirt hiking up just enough to flash him a good eyeful of your cute pink panties. You looked like the sweetest fucking dessert in it, and that adorable bow fastened onto your underwear was just the erotic cherry on top. 

That memory was going to burn behind his lids for the rest of his life. And oh, he could tell. 

That glint in your gorgeous eyes - how you’d batted your lashes up at him in exactly the way that made him gulp - told him everything he needed to know. 

You knew. Oh, how you pissed him off. 

“Sh-shit.” The thought makes Nanami’s poor heart race, plump balls twitching oh-so-eagerly when he dips into the side of his pants pocket to pull out something treasured. His secret good luck charm. “Know exactly what you’re fucking- hah- doing t’me. W-with your damn panties, n’ those skirts I hate and- and-”

And if anyone else had seen the uptight CEO of Jujutsu Tech right now, then they would have fainted. Undoubtely. Because dipping out of his pocket, he’s pulling out nothing but a frilly black garter.

Yours.

The very same one you’d “accidentally” slipped off in your chair after a meeting with him last month.

“Mmm—” He’s drinking back a few swallows of candied saliva once he brings the gauzy fabric up to his nose and sniffs. Long. Hard. The stuffy stall air notches up a few scorching degrees higher when Nanami curls his free digits around his bulky base and squeezes. “Bet that pretty pussy smells even s-sweeter.”

The thought only makes his slacked maw water even more guiltily. Bet you taste sweeter, too.

And like an animal, Nanami’s hunching his Herculean body over to spit out a steady stream of saliva right onto the bawling divot in the middle of his bloated cockhead. Watching it slosh in rivulets down his pulsing length.

Calloused thumb swiping over the weighty masses that top his filthy length like buttery icing. Biting back a whimper and tugging. He can’t stop.

“L-look how fucking hard y’got me–” He’s babbling away underneath his breath, clammy foreskin drawling up and down like adhesive with every roughened jerk. “All your fault hck! All your fucking- ptwah!” He gives himself another one, two, three more wads of excess spittle over his crownhead, taking a solid lick of your pretty garter. He breaks off with a pained mantra. “-fault.”

And shit, Nanami doesn’t know when he found himself acting like such a…pervert.  

But he blames you. Blames you and the way that thin lace of yours looks so sinful wrapped around his thick cock. Round n’ round coiling to massage every thickly inflated, lightning bolted vein-

“Hate how I’d never d-do this before-” He’s spilling out in throaty groans, swirling mahogany eyes widening at the sultry scratch of it up and down up and down his tender underside. With trembly fingerpads his smushing it all over the delicate curvature of his balls, “-before…you.”

And, shit, Nanami had a meeting in what- a few minutes? He can’t help but thinking about what his clients would think if they knew. What his employees would think. What you would think.

Would you…like it?

A muggy gust of air heaves out of his chest, sweat-slicked brows crinkling at the direction that those thoughts had just taken. Precum clinging onto his skin like adhesive, he fucks his fist like he’s angry.

He is - at you and every teasing touch of yours that makes every ounce of blood sprint down to his heavy cock. You, with your sunny smile and your eyes dazzling as if you weren’t just undressing him with your gaze. You, and your pretty outfits and stupidly sexy panties that make him run off right before important events-

“Gonna fucking- p-pay for this-” Nanami’s nose crinkles when he’s tugging his claggy white undershirt underneath his firmly grit teeth. Free hand straying to twirl little hearts over his puffy, bubblegum pink nipples, his tensed abs flex with every jerky buck. “-gonna- ngh-”

Gonna shove you down and make you feel just as needy as he is. Oh, Nanami’s thumbing underneath the heated line of his slippery slit, musing away just how much your clingy pussy would smooch it even better. 

“Wonder if I could ngh- fuck you stupid-” Nanami finds himself chuckling - chuckling. Low and crazed, plump lips twitching up at the sparks of bliss at the bottom of his abdomen. He was furious at you. “-would ya still be mouthy? Slutty? Ohhh, darling, I fuck you in every ngh- dream I have.”

And isn’t that what you wanted? What you’ve been driving him crazy for every since you stepped foot here? 

Joints in his wrist aching with that sloppy tempo, Nanami thinks he almost catches a rim of battered, stinging pink right where his fisted hand was hitting his toned abs. 

What he’d give to make your pretty pussy feel just as if she was his- what was it you call him? 

Ah, Nanami’s blossoming-red tip flinches as if being hit with a zillion volts of electricity as your words echo in his brain, his favorite melodic tune. His “work wife” was what you call yourself. 

“Tch, damn work- wife.” He’s murmuring, a blotchy blush taking over his handsome features - burning all the way up to the very tips of his ears. Fingers trawling faster and faster. Sloppier. He’s spraying out sheeny ropes of pre with every bruising pull off his swollen length. “Gonna show ya- gonna ngh- for how you make me- gonna make ya mine-”

“Kentooo? Are you in here?”

Fuck.

Without warning, Nanami’s teeth come latching harshly into his fist - he needs to. 

He has to, because just the mere notes of your voice from the other side of the door is enough for his ballooned balls to give a depraved pinch. Enough for him to cum.

Shit. Nanami’s head falls back against the wall, letting off strained gruffs around his flesh. 

A slow trickle of sweat beads down his temple at the sweltering splash of his undershirt being coated with vulgar cobwebs of thickly viscous seed - so much. Hot. 

And Nanami always did cum more whenever he thought of you - but this was almost too much. Such heaping volumes that it was like he couldn’t stop. Soaking your sopping garter, pooling out swashes of cum that formulate a sticky ring down his fingers. He’s leaking from his twitchy tip over n’ over-

“Fuck-” he’s hiccuping out, vision sparking with stars. He was too late - too entranced - to plug up his geysering orifice now for any semblance of order now. He hated how he was so weak for you. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck- fuck!” 

You really have corrupted him, because Nanami doesn’t feel even a single speck of shame when he leans even further against the door. Biting the insides of his cheek into silence, his ringing ears crane to hear just a syllable more of your tone-

God, he feels dirty.

But victorious. 

“Well, the meeting starts in a few minutes.” Nanami feels himself blush, he doesn’t give a single shit about some meeting - not when those words are enough for his aching cock to dredge out a few more ivory ounces that hit the tile with a deafening pap! “Hurry up, m’kay? It’ll be real boring without you, Ken—”

Minx. 

And Nanami doesn’t know what’s louder - the creaking shudder of the now-broken door hinges as you saunter out of the bathroom, or his beating heart.

Pulsing halfway out of his chest - not only at the fuzzy high of his orgasm, but at you. You, and those cute lil’ panties no doubtedly hidden away underneath your tight silken skirt. While you pretended to be all professional in the meeting that he is supposed to lead.

Dammit. Nanami’s head drops incredulously when his reddened cock gives another ravenous twitch. You were going to be the death of him.

.

.

.

You had no idea why everyone in the office was either scared senseless of your boss, Nanami Kento, or simply too intimidated by him to feel anything else. 

No one knew much. No one sought much.

But you knew that your self-proclaimed “work husband” was a gentle giant, surely - you’ve caught the way he silently comes into the building early with snacks for the break room, and leaves the latest personally finishing up documents he deems imperfect. What you simply didn’t understand was why no one else saw how hot he was.

Didn’t they see the absolute specimen of a man that towered around daily in tightly-fitted suits and perfectly combed blond hair? 

Those big, beefy arms, long lashes you’re almost jealous of, and regal features that dusted an innocent pink whenever you teased him too much. Always so worked up with the stress of running a company, that you couldn’t help but wonder if that would translate into bed.

Honestly, after years of men that disappointed and bored you - especially down there - could you really be blamed if you made things a little…unprofessional?

And you could tell that Nanami wasn’t complaining. 

Oh, he wasn’t complaining at all. 

No matter how much he’d falsely scowl or tut - you’d already “lost” one of your black garters, and you swear you saw just the slightest centimeter of it dangling from your boss’s pocket. 

The all-powerful CEO, but so weak for you.

What you really didn’t understand was why he didn’t take things to the next level.

You’d initially thought he would during your training period, whenever you’d stuck by him with your trusty notepad and tightest silky blouses that Nanami loved to pretend he wasn’t looking down. Always snapping his glassy eyes away after taking a long look at your bra, toying with his velveteen ties as if trying to choke either the hunger or the life out of him.

But when that came and ended, and you’d finally been awarded a permanent position, you finally got the chance to…have a little more fun.

Your favorite pastime was getting on your knees because of how oh-so-clumsy you are, brushing just past Nanami’s tersely bouncing knees. Lingering mere seconds longer when he presses his meaty thighs into you hotly.

“Oh?” It was like a little routine at this point, for you to faux gasp from your position on the floor as if you’d just noticed the touch. Each and every time. “My, how forward of you, work husband.”

Only to immediately get a choked-up groan of your name, and extra documents to finish by the time the work day was over. Worth it.

Because you had made the ever-stoic Nanami Kento blush. 

And the employee groupchat would text you about it for hours on end. Some swooning. Some skeptical. The rest of the office thought you were either very brave, incredibly slutty, or plain stupid. Possibly all three.

But seriously, you bite your lower lip to force down a giddy giggle when Nanami catches your winking eye for the nth time this past hour. Hastily looking back towards the hefty contract each n’ every time with a furiously grit jaw. He was so bad at pretending he didn’t want you.

Too bad you were getting impatient. 

“Right!” Comes the booming voice of a businessman that’d just secured a lucrative contract, you snap out of your whirlwind of thoughts when your client- President Higuruma from Kyoto Corporations, you think - stands up. Oh, the meeting was already over? “Now that the hard part is done, why don’t we all get the celebrations in, Kento old pal.”

They’d known each other a long time, you hear. And had apparently been rivals prior to forming this close relationship.

You think that your poor boss has never looked more grouchy than when he shrugs off Higuruma’s sociable hand off of one broad shoulder. Staring longingly at the clock that showed you’d all run way into evening overtime, “I’m not much of a partier myself, Hiromi.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, when you have a team as good as this, then you simply must treat them.” The other man sweeps his dark eyes across the room, resting ever-so-slightly on you. “Or else the pretty ladies here will think you’re boring.”

“I-” Oh, you should’ve gotten tips straight from Higuruma - because Nanami’s cheeks ruddy. Eyes narrowing at you, then darting to his friend, “-I’m terminating our contract.”

“And I’m taking you to crack open the good whiskey I know you hide in your second drawer.” To everyone’s shocked amusement, Higuruma lugs his all-new business partner bodily out of the door. Words carrying from the distance, “You know you never did tell me whether you got a padlock for that drawer because of me…”

You’re still careening towards the glassy door to hear more snippets of that conversation when suddenly you hear a loud SMACK!

It hits your ears right before it hits your senses that Shoko had turned over in her seat beside you and planted a harsh swat on your arm. Hissing at the ache, you’re huffing at her knowing smirk, “What if I’m into that?”

She snickers, giving you another resounding strike just for the sake of it. You really, really didn’t know why the two of you were friends-

“Oh, I bet our boss would know, then.”

Kidding, of course you knew. And you can’t stop yourselves from falling into your familiar old gossip, the rest of your coworkers listening in curiously be damned. “I wish. You should’ve seen the way he reacted when I fussed over his tie before this. Seriously, it’s not my fault it was crooked for once n’ he almost ran away.”

“Ran straight back into the bathrooms, you mean.” She’s wiggling her brows, stopping only when you tilt your head curiously. “Oh- shit, you didn’t know? I heard from Utahime who heard from Yaga who heard from Ijichi who went to the bathroom that uptight CEO Nanami here was almost late to the meeting because he was having a fun little him time in there.”

You hear yourself gasp- no-nonsense, sensible Nanami Kento? Touching himself in the bathroom? “That’s why he looked…so fucked out. No.” 

“Yes.” She nods seriously. “And you know what’s even better?”

“What?”

“Ijichi - who was hiding underneath the sink out of fear, by the way, pfft- claims he’d been holding onto a frilly black garter.” Pointing very blatantly at the practically skin-tight skirt you’d decided to wear today. “And I know someone who just-so-happened to ‘lose’ a black garter in the office.”

“What-” you’re sputtering out, not because of the accusation - no, Shoko knew all about that - but about the confirmation of your suspicions that Nanami really did have your lacy lil’ number. “But if he liked that so much then why doesn’t he make a move?”

Shoko crosses her arms with the wise air of someone that had just solved the answer to the meaning of life, and was intentionally being coy about it. “Don’t you realize that you have the perfect solution for that?”

“What?” Wow, you really were on an eloquent streak today. 

Just then, the heavy meeting room doors slide open - and in walks a sternly reluctant Nanami and Higuruma with too many dozens of prized alcohol. Said Higuruma who winks at you garishly- 

You glance at Shoko’s smile, the kind she gets when she’s about to cement a contract that would result in several lawsuits that she already knows your company would win. Oh. You get it. 

.

.

.

And so does Higuruma, apparently.

Because even though he might not know of your little plan, the man was more than happy to keep you company amongst the thrumming masses celebrating. 

Somehow, the entire department had been roped in and packed inside the sprawling meeting room. Mingling over dim lights and softly playing music from the corner of your impropmtu office party. 

Which worked out in your favor, surprisingly, as it gave you the opportunity to eye a stony-faced Nanami’s reaction - stood right next to you when you leaned against Higuruma with a wheezing laugh.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re really funny, President Higuruma?” You’re tittering out and, admittedly, his humor was amazing - but what was more interesting to you was the way that Nanami’s neat brows furrowed. 

“Mhm, you’ll just have to get used to that, sugar.” You swear you hear the glass in Nanami’s vice-like grip clink! Thickened digits, so easily powerful and tightening until his mountainous knuckles shone white. “After all, we’ll be working together to take care of some big packages now.”

You feel your lips curl up into a sleazy grin, eyes locked dead-set on Nanami’s own. “Yeah, I’m quite excited to be handling those big packages, actually.” 

Higuruma raises a brow, “S’that so?”

“Of course.” And if you inched in ever-so-slightly closer to him, if you let your voice dip saccharinely in honey, then Nanami couldn’t do anything about it. Nothing but spill out a sharp huff, mouth tightening into a harsh line across his pretty face. “I only hope they’re bigger than what Jujutsu Tech has currently been working with.”

“Oh yeah, much bigger.” Nanami looked positively like an explosion just waiting to go off, and you didn’t know whether it was slight fear or anticipation that made your thighs clench sinfully together. “This contract will be like nothing you’ve ever seen.”

“The bigger the better.”

You risk a glance downwards, just barely catching the way that your dear boss adjusts his sleek formal pants down near his thigh. Oh, lips parting, he was big, huh? Really big. 

And the quieter Nanami grew, the more talkative Higuruma became. More confident. “Pardon my forwardness, angel, but are we still talking business here?” And then comes the finishing blow - before you can blink, a strong arm latches onto your waist. “Because if we aren’t then-”

SLAM!

It’s all you can do to not shiver when you turn your gaze over to Nanami, who’d just clanged his half-full glass down on a nearby table. Veins bubbling with voltage from head to toe at the sheer metallic glint of something dangerous in his targeted gaze. 

Locked purely and utterly on you.

You can see the way his sharp jaw jumps with a furious tick. Fawny strands of blond curtaining over his furrowed brows, that slightly bumpy trail of his vein-

“I believe my employee is out of line, Hiromi.” Nanami bites out those words - sharp, and rugged. Piercing through your figure and sprinting right down to your heating core. The grin he gives you makes you shudder, “I will correct that.”

What? 

“Ken- ah!” You’re yelping when Nanami doesn’t give you the time for it to sink in, for you to even register anything other than the way his massive palm locks around your waist tightly. 

Doughy pads of his fingertips dig into the curvature of your hips, and you almost get whiplash at the tug of Nanami’s strong arms stealing you away from Higuruma’s touch. Tucking you into his blistering hot side, you think you feel dizzy with just how heady the combination of skin and cologne was. 

And then you leave - the both of you. Higuruma only calling after, stricken. 

You’re walking - or, at least, it feels like you’re walking. Almost on autopilot, you’re stuck on the firm set of Nanami’s jaw when he guides you briskly through the throngs of people. 

“Kento-”

“What now, darling?” Darling? He’s never ever called you that before. Never manhandled you with only one of his arms until you’re striding - running - down the familiar route to his richly-kept office. 

Oh.

Your own fingertips dig into the shimmering fabric of his fitted suit jacket, words coming out a little bit more breathless than you’d have liked. “Ken- sir, what are you-”

But, of course, Nanami Kento never let up that easy. Of course, he would never let you get the last word in if he had the chance. And tonight was all about chances. 

Whatever probing question dies in your throat when Nanami pauses - for a mere split-second - although it feels like hours in slow motion before he bends down and jostles you into a princess carry. Firm curves of his biceps digging underneath your thighs, a tender palm splays out across your back. 

Yet, the way that he’s staring deeply down at you is anything but.

“Oh, you know what the fuck I’m doing.” He wrenches out, vibrating you with the rumbling baritone that husks from his chest. So close that your own heartbeat matches with his fervent ba-dump! ba-dump! ba-dump! Each word just coated and dripping in something so raw that you barely even notice until after he weightlessly carries you past that familiar arching doorway. “It’s what you wanted, after all. Isn’t it?”

Dazed. Until the metallic click! of the door being locked by one of Nanami’s hands pull you out of your whirling thoughts.

He’s striding inside fast. Depravedly. 

“Is that jealousy I hear?” You sing-song, fingers trailing up to rub over his fuzzy undercut. And the moment you touch him, it’s like something in Nanami snaps. Something in him blinks…awake.

“Stop that.” 

Wasting with not a single nanosecond of hesitation before cupping his greedy palms on the squirming curve of your ass. He sneaks in a nice, long squeeze with one hand, the other facing down on the table in a long swipe to clatter down everything but that golden CEO Nanami nameplate onto the floor.

You suck in a sharp inhale when he splays you out like some spellbound slut on the cool surface of his mahogany office table. Unceremoniously. 

You’ve never seen him like…this.

He spanks his thick fingers along where your sinfully tight skirt was perking up to show off skin that makes Nanami’s mouth water. That makes him angle his head greedily for a flash of those very same pink panties that had him forgoing all duties earlier today. 

“Trying to make me fucking jealous. You forget your place, my love.” His index toys over the ribbony straps of your underwear. “I’ve been crazy for you since you stepped foot in this place. I’ve been yours.”

You, on the other hand, were still reeling to make your jumbling thoughts somewhat coherent. 

Rutting up into the merciless weight of his sculptured front pinning you down - Nanami’s body was feverish. So hot that it made your skin break out in a humid layer of perspiration, you felt so hot. You felt like you were melting already.

And his muscles, oh- even through a jacket, and that cotton button-up you so loved on him, he was so toned that you could count every delicious ridge of Nanami’s glissading abs. 

Rounded centers of your knees attach around his slender waist, you’re gasping at the firm plane of muscled obliques that welcome you. “N’ that’s what made you jealous? Heh- that’s so cute- mmpf-”

“Does it amuse you to break me, my love?” Nanami grapples two of his tough digits to smush your cheeks together, sultry leer piercing its way through his mask of fury. He growls, “To make me fucking furious?”

“Ngh- Kento—” The whimpers just won’t stop spilling from your lips, his gaze drilling into your eyes and falling straight to your drenching cunt. Your hips arch needily off of the icy cold wood to nudge your pussymound for more more more- “I- fuck-”

SMACK!

“Talk to me like a big girl.” He hisses, knotting his fingers around your tender throat so tight. Tight enough to drain you of the necessary volumes of air strangling in your throat, letting only a few weepy gurgles leave your mouth. Hard. “Ah ah, a big girl I said. If you can talking with fucking- President Higuruma, you can talk to me.”

“Want- want-” Your nails claw patterned lines that paint across Nanami’s muscular forearms. “I want you to kiss me, Kento.”

There. You’d said it. 

And Nanami’s smile was almost blinding.

He’s closing in the hypnotic inches until his plump lips hovered simple milimeters away from your puckered ones. Much too far for you, in your opinion. 

Fisting a single hand around Nanami’s sapphire collar, you’re dredging up your strength to finally pull him in for the kiss you’ve been waiting ages for at this point. Finally. Singing off a brief sigh at the heated proximity of his maw-

Only for Nanami to pull away.

“Wh-where are you going?” You’re mewling out, brows furrowing with the type of upset desperation that only Nanami was able to bring out in you. You needed him - and you needed him badly. 

But the only answer you get is the balmy breeze of his snickers clouding down your body, so scorching that it made flames of want zip down between your legs. And Nanami does kiss you - between the heaving valley of your chest, right underneath your left tit, your tummy- down, down, down.

Rip—!

There go your limited-edition fishnets - torn right with only a few tugs of Nanami’s carnal canines. Right with his mouth that burrows between the pliable hole he’d made between your legs. 

“Hm? What was that, darling?” He’s drawling away, shuffling until he was right between your legs. Until your big, bad boss was kneeling in front of you. “Oh! My sweet girl wants a little kiss, doesn’t she? How cuuute.”

Rutting up your hips, you just barely manage to get the edge of your slick-flooded thighs to stroke his dimpled cheek. Lips jutting out into a pout, “Yes- yes.”

“Too bad she didn’t earn it, hm? As if I’d kiss a mouth that flirted with another man in front of me- no matter how pretty. ” Nanami continues, like he didn’t even hear your pleas right now. Thank goodness you couldn’t see the way the cracking rawness to your voice made his pants so much tighter. 

There’s the stubborn schwf! of your skirt being pushed up in a rough tug. And it’s only once he turns his heart-eyed stare down between your legs that you realize. “So, guess m’just gonna hafta kiss you.”

He wasn’t talking to you. He was talking to your dripping cunt. 

No sooner does this realization hit, that Nanami’s eager kiss does too. A filthy, sodden French snog planted right through your soaked panties. 

Nodding along as if he was translating every slurp weaving its way from between your bloated folds. “Oh? What’s that you say? More?” 

He’s trawling the pointed edge of his nose up n’ down the your slippery slit, teeth nipping along the rubbery folds to make your entrance gush out slivery ropes of slick. You count exactly one smooch at your dripping base, two right where your pussymound was the pulpiest, and the final - longest and most lingering - on your throbbing clit. 

“See?” He hums, fleshy thumb outlining the slobbering fringe of your pussylips. Just peeking his manicured fingertip past your useless underwear, and inching backwards with a saturated squelch whenever you squirmed for more. Tease. “Now tha’s a good girl, she’d never flirt with another. You’re mine, right- all mine? Or- well-”

Your breath hitches when you feel the wet splatter! of a slimy clump of saliva striking your teary cunt dead-on. And Nanami’s thumb rolls over the sheeny glaze with such utter love, “Now you’re all mine.”

Your fingers sneak their way to tangle into Nanami’s mussed-up locks, pulling his sappy mouth even closer. So close that his curved chin hits your pussy with a wet plap! And the crisp whoosh of him drinking in your scent deeply has you whining, “Ken- more. More.”

Nanami growls and it’s almost feral. He’s knocking out a deafening mewl from your lips with a sharp, sultry spank exactly on the target of your pulsing clit. “More? More, huh?” Purposefully rovering the chilling band of one signet ring - holding it firmly down where your hole was leaking. “After you got this wet for Hiromi? Nice try.”

“This isn’t for Higu-”

Thwack! The hollowing noise of flesh meeting flesh sings out in your ears, every swat after swat being left on your pussy enough to make your head throw back helplessly. 

The sight of it only makes Nanami’s scouring fingers pry apart your gluey folds even wider, kissing every nook and cranny. Over and over. Taunting. “N’ now you’re talking about another hah- man when you’re w’me? I should fire you, darling.”

You already know he never would. 

But you can’t stop yourself from spilling out a string of swears anyway, “Th-this is all for- ngh-” Flinching bodily when he wraps the waterlogged remnants of your panties around one fist, ‘round and ‘round until your pussy was allll on shamefully display, and your delicate pink panties dig into your fleshy mounds. “-for you, Kento.”

And when Nanami pulls at the silky fabric with one hand, you’re dragged down across the table right with it. Till you were exactly where he wanted you.

“Correct.”

Your panties were in tatters now - and he tucks it away into his pocket with a wink. For later. “Hate these slutty fucking panties. Wanted them off every fucking time.”

Swiping away the syrupy trickle of saliva overspilling from his mouth, Nanami’s instantly surging over to connect his lips with your puffy ones. Groaning out a throat mmmm– the moment that candied flavor sugarcoats his lips.

The most lecherous squelches! speak across all four corners of his decadent office when Nanami handlessly tilts his head to let his scratchy tastebuds maze through your weepy pussy. 

He doesn’t even care that he’s getting the frames of his glasses all messy. Swirling out slow circles around the elastic ring of your entrance, before pumping inches in-

“Fuck-” You’re squealing, throat clogging with a leaden ball the moment he’s contracting his tongue to stretch your entrance out wiiidely agape. In and out until your rubbery hole was tenderizing to his ravenous shape and texture, “-fuck just like ngh- that.”

“Oh yeahh? You like this, huh?” Meeting Nanami’s gaze from between your cracked-open legs results in shockwaves all over your body. Because his molten gaze was gleaming - practically glowing. “Getting so turned on s’like you’re a ngh- damn waterpark. Think anyone else could get you this f-fuck- soaked?”

And you couldn’t even hide it just how aroused you were. Just how close. 

Wiry ropes of your webbed slick clings onto Nanami’s mouth with each soppy plap of his mouth clashing onto your cunt. Harder. Fucking you with his tongue just the way his thick cock was aching to do right now-

SMACK!

“Mmm sweet girl, makin’ such a mess. Answer me.” He spits into your syrupy pussy, urging out a few fresh waves of slick that laminate his fat digits in pure gloss. A gloss that he sucks up happily.

“You-”

He doesn’t even let you finish. Because you were so adorable being eaten out until you were stupid, none of that usual flirty snark present when he was making out with your cunt like a man parched. 

Swirling out tiny hearts on your clit with the mushy tips of his fingertips, he yearns to skim the perked edge of his tongue all over your gummy walls. Bumping into every delicate orifice, Nanami’s free fingers fly down to trace your tight ring of muscle. “Oh yeah?”

“O-only you–” Your blubbers are so adorable, mouth loosened into an oh! yet the only thing coming out of it are repeated shrills of Kento! How cute, Nanami can only hope that these walls aren’t thick enough that those outside won’t hear. He wants them to. “-only you can make me so- ngh-”

“Shy, darling?” He sounded so painfully pussydrunk right now. Rouge blush burning, gazing up at you heavily shuttered eyes, a maw that was drooling more and more with every lapping snog placed on your slobbering pussy. “What happened to my flirty girl?”

His flirty girl. 

Shit- the words themselves affect him just as much as they do you. Nanami’s muscular thighs manspread even wider with just how fat his painfully hard cockhead was bloated. Close. It’s so sloppy how he quickens his pace to toy with the button of your clit.

His, all struggling to get out the words from your mouth - battling with your heavy tongue to get out a keening- “You. Yours. Hngh- Only y-you can make me feel like this. M-make me feel so hck! close, Kento.” 

His perfect girl.

“Ohhh, say that again. Dunno if I quite believe that.” He groans, budging your thighs over to suffocate his head even deeper, god, he knows that he could pass out right here and still be the most content man on Earth. Holding your ankles behind his hand with a second hand, you can’t help but ogle the rippling bulge of his biceps. “Lock them.” Your tangling motions were limp - weak. But Nanami finds himself grinning anyway, holding you in place tightly, he’s doubly stuffing in two digits past your slicked entrance. “Say my name.”

“Ken- Kento?”

Piling upon wads and wads of stringy cum that sprinkle all over your thighs, just the striking sensation is enough for you to see stars. Enough to gasp when his probing digits pillage your gooey depths, “Again.”

“Kento.”

And of course, Nanami Kento wasn’t a merciless man. Mean. Filthy with just how much he’s clacking his jaw to grind into the supple rim of your, your knee bounces up even higher at the taut spring of something hot pooling in your tummy. 

He could tell. Oh, he could tell. 

You were always so adorably readable - especially with your wobbling lips, and those crinkling beads of tears spilling over from the corners of your eyes. Mumbling, “Kentooo-!”

And all he really had to do was pound a battery swipe along your sweltering walls, deeply. Skidding right across where he knew your magical g-spot would be. He’s giving your perky clit not one - hell, not even two - but three solid pinches on your sensitive hood. Hard. 

The babbling words “C-cumming-” are barely starting syllables out of your mouth before it crashes into you headfirst. 

You feel like you’re being run over with such waves of bliss, pupils sliding allll the way into the back of your scrunched lids. 

The wooden desk trills out a ringing creak! when you arch your spine into the perfect semi-circle, dragging Nanami’s mouth all over each and every crevice of your quivering cunt. Riding out your high in long sloppy drags. 

Using him. And how Nanami loved to be used by you.

“Yeah- yeah yeah—” Holding your gaze fatally, you can only watch as the pearly beads spraying from your cunt drip the long trailway down to hit the back of his throat. Your fingertips dig into his scalp, mushing his face even closer, “-cum. Cum all over m’face, my love. Make a fucking mess of me.”

You swear that Nanami’s voice was shattering into a whimper towards the very end. Prominent Adam’s apple bobbing with every greedy gulp, and he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop.

Not even when your sparking high fades out into nothingness, not even when that white-hot pleasure formulates into something sensitive. Almost painful. Gasping out a sharp ah! with every drag of Nanami’s tongue over your too-tender cunt. 

“S-sensitive-” You’re mewling, desperately trying to push on his blond head. Stacks of sweat-dampened hair plastering across your palm, “Ken- Ken, m’too sensitive.”

“Tch.” He’s panting, eyes latching on instead to your glistening pussy - all pretty with trickling layers of sweet, sweet juices and his saliva. What a mess he’s made. He swears he can spot a darkening patch oozing out all over the desk. 

Nanami rubs his fleshy thumb over the tantalizing curve of your pussymound just a few repeated times, “Let me ask her- hm, wanna let me ah- go? Ready to say goodbye, darling?”

And whatever slurring squelches that emanate from your soppy lips speak to him. Enough so that he finds himself nodding mindlessly, “Fine then.” Planting an exaggerated mwah! on your clit, “I’ll see you later, m’kay?” 

He was so gentle kissing your pussy goodbye - but so, so mean manhandling you off of the desk. In a singular fluid motion, scooping you up with two beefy arms underneath your legs and falling back into the CEO’s cushy chair.

“O-oh.” You find your thighs straddling his sculpted hips, hands falling precariously on top of his bulging deltoids. What a feast Nanami Kento was. 

He barely even had to try to make your hips grind in a jerky up and down on his too-tight bulge. Splotching out gluey patches of slick wherever your driveling lips were hitting. Nanami counts exactly six slippery streaks before he grabs your throat and pulls-

“Think ya earned it now.” He hisses through a simpering groan. You’re so pliable like this - so open to being dragged into a filthy, filthy kiss. “Mm- might just be my favorite ngh- lipgloss on ya.”

You’re smacking at the curvaceous valley between Nanami’s pecs - nothing more than kittenish pecks for him, “That- that’s so filthy, Ken.”

Skin dappling with a second skin of goosebumps with every inch exposed to the heady air, he’s unbuttoning your blouse slowly. Lazily. Pop! Pop! Pop! Taking his precious time to watch every minute huff and puff you cloud out. 

“Oh, darling.” Bursting out a bout of laughter that hits you to your very core as soon as your top and bra hit the polished floor. Nanami tilts back in his seat sexily, angling you to take up even more space on the comfortable seat of his lap - his thick, outlined bulge. “We haven’t even gotten started.”

Fuck.

He pants, “Hated these slutty skirts- fuck- made me almost call HR because you looked so- beautiful.” With your skirt soon shed, you’re suddenly reeling with the realization that you’re the only one naked right now. “Better with them off.”

Never one to fall behind, you can’t help but tumble your greedy digits downwards. Mouth lathering with a sloshing wave of greed as soon as your fingertips skim the rock-hard tent struggling in Nanami’s pants.

“Fuck- greedy girl.” At this point, it’s as if the exact measurements of Nanami’s hand were branded into the mounded flesh of your ass. Because each spank has you crying, “Don’t you worry now, m’gonna fuck that ngh- feisty mouth shut soon, but for now…”

You’re left hanging, waiting on where Nanami’s drawling words would take you next. 

But it just-so-happened that you didn’t have to wait. Didn’t have to register anything but the way that he’s tugging down his too-tight pants and boxers just enough-

“Oh my-” You gasp at the sight below you, blinking your weighty lids just a few times to make sure that you weren’t imagining things. Because, sure, on those lonely nights you’d imagined Nanami to be big - but this was just ridiculous. “-Ken, you’re so-”

Big package for sure.

“H-heh.” He preens, wrenching down the velvety fabric until it looped halfway down the padded meat of his thighs. “Don’t act so cockdrunk, my love- s’only gonna make me ngh bigger.”

Roaming five dexterous fingers to grasp his bulky base, the rest of Nanami’s nine- no, ten inches drip down needy gumdrops of pre onto your hand. He was long, girthy - blushed on his swollen mushroom tip a pretty cerise pink that matched your ruined panties. 

“Wan’ you inside me.” You’re purring out, and Nanami’s heart races as he catches a few glimpses of that complete and utter tease you usually are. You swipe your thumb over the syrupy top coating of precum on his tip, plugging it into Nanami’s mouth.

Well, he might be the boss - but not in here.

After all, who was he to go against anything his pretty girl said? 

“Mmm- s’that so?” He’s suckling right on your doughy pads, fringes of his neat teeth nipping your flesh. Looking you right in the eyes while leaving a few streaky smears across your drooling slit, up and down. Golden blond lashes so long they flutter against the flushed apples of his cheeks, “Gimme a kiss first, my girl.”

So sweet.

Or so you thought.

Because you’d just inched your allured body closer to give him what he wanted. Digging your rounded knees into the sides of his body to just let your pursed lips brush in an innocent, innocent skim across his kiss-bitten ones- 

Before Nanami wraps his hand around your throat and tilts your head back to let himself spit. Just seconds before nudging apart your sticky folds and pushing in-

“Ah!” Your eyes sprint between snapping open in sheer shock, and screwing tightly shut at the pure stretch. The tightness. You could almost hear the elastic creak of your weepy entrance being pulled to its very limits around Nanami’s globed tip. “O-oh my god-”

“Shhhh you can take it, good girl- my good girl.” He’s thumbing away the purposeful spatteres that decorate the sagging edges of your lips. Rounded centers of his fingertips sinking in tight around your throat, “Mmm- s’this a big enough package for ya?”

It’s an uphill battle to force your lids to shutter open, only to peer into Nanami’s glassy eyes to see that yeah, there was still a glint of raw jealousy in them. Still. 

Your hand dips its way down to swipe open your dewy pussylips, rubbing over the most tender spots on your drooling cunt when your hips stutter down inch by fucking inch. 

Splitting your tight orifice in half with his vast cylindrical cock, every wild rut that pumps Nanami even deeper makes you dizzy. Your ajar maw spilling with drool while he fucks himself furiously harder and harder and-

Head lolling over into the clammy crook of his shoulder, your tongue licks up a long stripe along his neck. “Ngh- s-so fucking big– Don’t know if I c-can take it.”

“Now now.” With a rude spank! your fingers are swatted away meanly, Nanami’s own taking over in its place. Not to do the job - just to toy with the buzzing nub of your clit while he pumped you snugly full of his never-ending shaft. “Move that hand, lemme see my girl’s hah- pussy take my big fuckin’ cock.”

Salty tears spring to your eyes and end up dripping onto Nanami’s awaiting tongue, voice laced with something primal. “Poor baby, getting nervous. Don���tcha remember what you told Hiromi?” You did. “The bigger the better?” You remember. “So buckle up n’ take it like a good girl now, my love.”

Your answer is nothing but a half-lucid nod, “Y-yes, Ken-” 

“Hm?” He pinches your clit. A warning. 

“Sir.”

“Atta girl.”

And then Nanami’s bottomed-up, his hefted base sagging against your sopping wet lips, globular swell of his breeder balls nestling up behind your cunt in a congratulatory smooch. And he was kissing your other lips just the same.

Leaving wet swabs that decorate your pulpy cervix in translucent streams, you’re squealing after each n’ every fat thud! of Nanami’s rotund cockhead mushing into your gooey depths. Probing veins massaging you incessantly.

He couldn’t get enough.

“Atta girl-” He’s snickering into your mouth, pounding and pounding even more despite the clingy push of your pussy. Despite the way that he can’t even go any deeper - his cock was still aching for more. To strike the bullseye of your womb. “O-ohhh atta giiirl. Open wiiiide f’me.”

Like a mantra. You weren’t any more coherent, with your words garbling out over every leathery creak! of the pristine office chair. “Loud- g-gonna be loud, Kento.”

“I don’t care.” Nanami spits out immediately, leaving a heavy-duty swat on your bulging pussy folds as if to ask why should you care, too? He had such a way of speaking to you with his body, rendering you speechless after only a few seconds in the presence of his vicious tempo. “Let them hear, they couldn’t fuck you like this. Let them know hck! wh-who makes this slutty cunt feel so good.”

And it wasn’t a question, but you’re answering anyway. Looping your boneless arms around the expanse of Nanami’s broad shoulders, your limbs stick to the sweat-drenched fabric of his button-up and you huff. 

“You- need you to-” You’re murmuring away, numb tips of your fingers fumbling with his pearly buttons. Two seconds away from ripping this damn shirt off of him, “-need to see you.”

“Oh yeah?” He’s letting his top fly open to reveal what looks like yard upon yards of smooth, sculptured skin. Shiny with a glimmery sheen of humid perspiration and slick - puddling from your weepy cunt at the way that Nanami was so sexy. All jiggling pecs and abs for days, you find your pussy gulping his length up n’ down even faster. Nipping along bites that redden his flesh prettily, “Woah- Really are a slut, my love. N’ I fucking love it.”

Nanami was always such a possessive man, one hand latched onto the side of your waist and helping you stumble along with every pap! The other wandering down to pat that proud curve where your cozy hole was being overstuffed with his fat cock, before traipsing up to your clit-

“Mmm– gonna have everyone know.” He’s biting down on his bottom lip, looking up at you through teary lashes. Tapping your clit, “Say my name, my love.”

“Ken-”

“Louder.”

“Ken!”

The chair bustles with every jerk, and the unsteady motions only have Nanami driving even deeper. “Mmm- now say his name-” He’s settling your mouth open with another clump of saliva, kissing away the smearing excess. “-say his name. Say Higuruma-”

But it was no use. The only thing your mouth seemed to be able to form into was a loud Ken. Just as he’d wanted. Just as what makes him chuckle, “Gonna fuck you s-so good that fucking Hiromi s’gonna know from a mile away.”

Ohhh, how he loved that cute lil’ thought. 

He was certainly jackhammering you like it, motioning your hips into eager gyrations even faster than your fatigued legs could handle. Practically carrying you through every claggy slap of skin-on-skin, Nanami’s tensed core burns with the friction. 

But he doesn’t care. Doesn’t even burn the sting of anything other than the way his sensitively enlarged balls were papping against your skin. Painting sweet, sweet bruises for days. 

“Would ya like that?” He’s mindlessly babbling away, and even through his hooded eyes you could tell that Nanami was completely pussydrunk. He wasn’t even circling your clit now - he was writing out on top a rapid K-E-N-T-O. Gone. Ruined. Rolling his hips in sloppy bucks, “Wan’ me ta fuck you until everyone knows?”

You’re nodding. Nodding and nodding away, and Nanami thinks this can’t get any better. You’re so gorgeous when you’re fucked dumb like this, who knew his office tease would be so…pliant?

He’s already in heaven with each saturated slip n’ slide massaging your weeping orifices. Angling his hips ever-so-slightly to the side to feel more of you-

That’s when he hits it.

That spot. 

And oh, Nanami thinks he could cum right then and there with the way your slicked walls kiss his length in a lingering smooch. Just as lovers do. 

“There-” you’re mumbling out, your lips leaving tiny pecks across the grinning corners of his lips. But you didn’t even have to start for him to already be bouncing you with the target of exact, precise strikes to your g-spot. Spotting steamy splotches of parched precum over that bulging spot, “R-right there, Ken- don’t miss don’t miss.”

“Would never fuckin’ imagine.” He has the audacity to roll his eyes. 

You believed him - just as much as you believed in the flurries of stars bursting countlessly behind your eyes. Hushing out, “M’close, Kento- gonna cum- fuck m’gonna cum.”

How could you not be close when he’s back to his favorite hobby that makes you squirm - pinching your throbbing clit right in time with the long, long lines his battering tip glides across your sweet spot. Ending allll the way back at your cervix. “Mhm, gonna make you cum on m’fucking cock. Hafta l-let those fucking ngh- losers know whose pretty pussy this is.”

And once the ever-stoic Nanami starts babbling, it’s like he can’t stop. 

“Mine-” Sucking on your bruised lower lip like his favorite candy. “Mine.” Twice. “Mine.” Thrice. He’s fucking you like he’d die if he slowed down right now, massaging your rubbery entrance deliriously raw. Teeth grit the closer and closer he inched himself, “Gonna let Hiromi know. Gonna let Ijichi know- Shoko- fucking Ino who w-was making eyes at my girl. My wife.”

You’re gasping, “W-wife?” And it seemed like such a highly tense moment to finally accept you as his work wife. That is, before-

“Mhm—” And there’s no regret, none of that usual shyness in Nanami’s eyes as he fucks you with deep eye contact. Thumb finishing off drawing a final KENTO on your clit, “Better know that m’gonna buy you th-the biggest fucking diamond you’ve ever seen, my love.”

Maybe it’s the way that he’s so serious. Maybe it’s the drilling pace of his thumping cock. Or maybe it’s just Nanami himself; boring up at you through droopy eyes and foggy glasses, a delirious smile plastered all over his face while he rammed you to your orgasm.

Fat tears collecting on your waterline, your vision blurs with just how intense of an orgasm he’s wrenching out of you. You swear it’s the best you’ve had in years - maybe even in your entire life.

“F-fuuuuck–” Your fingers drag unorganized lines all over his smooth shoulders, making it out as if he’d just been attacked by wild cats - but it’s just you. You and your sappy folds milking Nanami’s very soul, hot puffs of condensed breath hitting his craned neck when you lean in. “A-all for you, Kento.”

And the exact moment Nanami feels your lips descend upon his skin to suck - the exact moment he realizes that you’re marking him - his breath strangles in a gasp. 

“Darling- darling.” He’s panting out, shivering fingers setting the soft spots of your cunt free to get a good grope of your ass. To muster all his fucked-out strength to whack your pussy against his sharp hipbones with a resounding pap! “Oh, darling m’cumming- fuck- better take every drop now.”

But it was impossible to.

Because Nanami was cumming so much - even more than he had in the bathroom just hours earlier. Torrenting out sticky webs of seed that glue your walls feebly together and scratch such a primal urge inside you to have him fill you up.

He’s fighting to keep his head from throwing back, blinking away the sparks that bolt behind his eyes to drink in the sight down below. 

In awe at just how much of it was overspilling in ivory ribbons from the stretched-out ends of your sodden slit. Stretching thickly over his bulked base in a buttery ring, it’s so messy that he’s barely thinking before smearing over the wadded mess.

“Ken- mmpf-” Your mouth falters as soon as he stuffs in the glazed-over tips of his fingers, swirling around a slow circle inside your unhinged maw. He already knows this is going to be good. “Want more.”

More.

More.

Here you were - stuffed until your poor pussy couldn’t even handle just how much cum Nanami was still fucking into you. Spraying out a fountain of creamy globs with every pressurized thrust planted on your pussy - and you still wanted more?

Something flashes behind Nanami’s eyes.

And before you know it, you’re whimpering at the loss of his girthy inches weighing down in your cunt. There’s a saccharine fwop! followed by the slosh of trickling cum when Nanami pulls out, “C-come back.”

With a ringed finger plugging up your geysering hole from losing any precious ounces, Nanami carries you over to that familiar office desk in a single stride. Splaying you out - manhandling you - with ease until you were bent over the cool surface. 

Your cheek being pushed into the currently saliva-soaked wood, wrangling hands instantly tied behind your back with something silky - fuck, Nanami’s tie. Your cunt once more stuffed to the very brim with all of his throbbing cock. 

He’s leveraging the little restraint to jostle your hips ever-deeper. You’re squealing at that stretch - one you’re sure you’d never get used to. “K-Kento, sir–”

“Shhh, my love.” You hear in throaty groans from above you, and Nanami’s muscular weight pinning down your body makes you even wetter. As if he was just melting his abs into your curved back, smearing back n’ forth in tiny smudges after he starts pushing- “Say another word n’ m’gonna get ya pregnant- then they’ll really know you’re mine.”

.

.

.

It’s not like Nanami Kento to ever be late to a meeting.

Given, there was that one time a year ago when he’d almost been late before an important contract discussion with Kyoto Enterprises. But thirty five whole minutes late to a meeting? 

Well, that was unheard of. Impossible, really.

And Shoko finds herself sighing, tapping her nails impatiently on the glass table. Honestly, there were so many better things she could be doing with her time than waiting for her mystery of a boss. And - just her luck - you weren’t here today to distract from the boredom of corporate life, either. 

The universe is against her, really. 

“Oi, Ijichi–” She calls out to the fidgeting man seated across from her - and she doesn’t know whether he jumps because everyone on the team is on edge, or simply because this is Ijichi. “Five more minutes, then we file a missing persons report.”

“I-I am sure Mr. Nanami is ah- fine-” He pushed up his dangerously low glasses, muttering underneath his breath. “...hopefully.”

“I think we should go with the missing persons report.” Higuruma pipes up from one end of the room, the man had become a much-loved addition to this department since the contract. “Because I hate to say it, but the man has no life. There’s no reason for him to just-”

SLAM!

“My apologies, I’m late.” Nanami pants out into a silence that could only be caused by the object of your conversation suddenly intruding. A blur of impeccable suits and blond hair. 

Well, Shoko couldn’t see his face properly from the way he was hunched over to catch his breath like that - but she was glad he seemed unharmed.

Or, at least, that’s what she thought.

Because then Nanami stands up properly.

And honestly, she doesn’t know what makes her heart stop more. The fact that Nanami Kento arrived late to a meeting - or that he arrived late to a meeting with lipstick stains all over his lips, his jawline, his neck. And- and were those hickeys bruising his neck?

The coffee cup in her hand falls, and it’s not the only one. Surely, this had to be a prank- wait, does her boss even know what that is?

Still thinking it’s some strange practical joke, she’s squinting to get a closer look at the strangely familiar color of that lipstick. That- shit, wasn’t that your favorite shade?

Nanami snaps his head to Shoko the very moment she says your name - almost as if a form of experimentation. Before looking down at himself and finally - finally - seeing the state he was in. He sighs, fond. “Ah, my apologies again. My beautiful wife held me up, and I forgot to check if she left marks.”

Wife. 

Higurua drawls out the question striking through everyone’s mind right now. “What. The. Fuck.” 

And Ijichi squeaks out the second most striking question, “W-wife? D-do you mean your w-work wife, Mr. Nanami?”

“No.” He’s tilting his head in confusion, as if there was any possibility of anything else otherwise. Pulling out a glinting golden band hung around a simple chain from underneath his suit. A wedding ring. With your name engraved. “My wife wife.”

A/N. Hope you have a lovely week <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Injured (Alexia's Version): Future V

Alexia Putellas x Daughter!Reader

Summary: You bring home your girlfriend

It’s not often that Alexia finds herself pacing.

She used to do it a lot when she was still playing. She used to pace before big games, up and down the length of the locker room until finally being allowed out to warm up.

This isn’t like that in the slightest.

This is her meeting your girlfriend.

Your Real Madrid girlfriend.

Alexia had thought you were dating that English girl that plays for Chelsea but apparently that was ‘just a fling’ and ‘sleeping with a friend’ which is something Alexia wasn’t quite sure was allowed but apparently it was.

She knew she had never let you go off to Madrid for a girl’s trip with some of the girls you dance with.

Look what had happened.

You’re bringing home one of Alexia’s worst enemies.

It leaves a bitter taste in her mouth as she peaks out of the front windows to see a fancy car pull up. It’s certainly not yours but you’re the one sliding out of the passenger seat.

Alexia breathes out along sigh as she  pulls herself away, desperate to not let you see her lurking.

“Jaume!” She yells up the stairs,” You sister and her girlfriend is here!”

No answer.

“Jaume!” Alexia yells again,” Stop hiding in your room!”

She waits for a second and then Jaume’s desk chair scrapes against his floor and Alexia can move away from the stairs.

“Olg-“

“I’m already here,” Olga says, breezing into the room with a smile on her face,” Ale, you look like you’re about to pop a vessel.” Her finger smooths down the wrinkle in Alexia’s brow. “Calm down. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

“Our daughter is bringing home an enemy. I’m allowed to be angry.”

“You’re not angry,” Olga says, a soft smile on her face as Alexia glances back at the door,” You’re nervous. You just want y/n to be happy and you’ve not met this girl yet.”

“I just don’t get why she didn’t just stick with the English girl!”

“I thought you didn’t approve of Aggie?”

“I didn’t! I don’t! I don’t know.” Alexia huffs, glancing away. “I just want her to be happy.”

“And I’m sure she’s very happy with Olaya. Now, put a smile on your face and pretend you aren’t nervous.”

“I’m not nervous!”

The doorknocker goes and Alexia jolts in shock.

“Aren’t you going to get it?” Jaume asks from the top of the stairs and Alexia scoffs.

“I don’t want them to know that I’ve been waiting on them.”

“You’re so weird.”

Alexia ignores her son, waiting a few more seconds before opening the door, plastering an incredibly fake smile on her face when she looks at your girlfriend.

To her credit, Olaya Rodrigeuz doesn’t cower much outside of the usual ‘oh my god, Alexia Putellas is looking at me!’.

“Mami,” You say warmly and Alexia’s fake smile morphs into a real one.

“My bambi,” She coos, hands coming up to hold your face,” I missed you.”

“You saw me last weak.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t miss-“

Alexia freezes as something cold and wet brushes up against her hand and she shrieks.

“Oh, sorry,” You laugh,” This is Flower.”

“That’s a bear.”

“He’s a puppy.”

“Shit, y/n,” Jaume says, forcing his way through the door,” Where did you get a bear?!”

“A puppy.”

“Puppy, bear, same thing,” Jaume says dismissively,” Where’d you get him?”

“I bought him,” Olaya replies as the three of you squeeze into the entrance hall,” Y/n was talking about getting a dog and I saw an ad so I just bought him without thinking.”

It’s probably overreacting on Alexia’s part but she can’t help but notice all the little things as Olaya talks about buying you your dog (who apparently you’ve named Flower). Alexia’s eyes narrow as Olaya’s hand splays out against your hip, the way that she pulls you a little closer and they way you automatically tilt your neck towards her as she presses a soft kiss to just under your jaw.

Your girlfriend is a lot older than you. It’s obvious to everyone but causes the most worry in Alexia.

It was never a secret that you preferred older women. For whatever reason, girls your age never really interested you.

But it always made Alexia wary, especially when said older woman spent money on things like a puppy and held you so close like you were some piece of arm candy.

But that might have just been Alexia’s own interpretation of it.

“Food?” Olga offers up from behind and you stand, clicking your tongue.

“I’ll help. Come on, Flower.”

Your puppy pads obediently over to you and Jaume trails behind, trying to be as close as possible to the bear-like puppy with the flowers on his collar.

Alexia holds her hand out.

Olaya takes it.

Alexia squeezes, her face a mask of indifference.

“So,” Alexia says,” You’re dating my daughter.”

“Yes.”

“And you bought her a puppy.”

“She wouldn’t have done it for herself. She really wanted one but she was nervous to take the last step.”

“So you just bought her a puppy.”

“Yes.”

Alexia stares, long and hard until Olaya visibly slumps, shoulders closing in on herself.

“And the puppy is hers, right? Like if you break up, she gets to keep him?”

Olaya nods. “Yes.”

“Good because she really looks like she loves that dog and I don’t want him taken from her.”

“I only want the best for her,” Olaya says, seemingly uncowed now.

Alexia allows the silence to grow stale for a moment before she finally drops Olaya’s hand.

It isn’t approval. Not yet. But it’s a truce. It’s a ‘I’m not going to throw you out of my house just yet’.

“Now,” Alexia says, leading your girlfriend into the kitchen,” Why don’t you introduce me to my new grandson?”

[captain-kit-adventuress]

Let me tell you some things about American plumbers probably almost none of you know, especially because I've seen people complaining that plumbers make "$42 an hour while I can't even make $15!"

[Note that much of this is state-specific, so ymmv, but most states have an interest in keeping it pretty similar to what I'm going to outline.]

First of all, you have to be licensed, and anything licensed takes forever and costs a fortune. You spend 7 years as an apprentice plumber, which means taking full-time classes on top of full-time work, for which you definitely do not get paid $42 an hour, and you're lucky if you get $20. You're on the hook for all of the tuition and books and whatever else, tools and whatnot, and we all know tuition and books are out of control, but have you seen what decent tools cost these days? This in addition to all of the regular school stuff like a computer, an internet connection, probably a mobile phone of some description, etc. Some you may have already and some you may not.

That's just the education part. Next, even after you've completed your 7 year apprenticeship under extremely strict and exacting standards, for which you get paid almost nothing and have tons of expenses just like any other student, you're still under some kind of supervision for another few years. So you've put in about 10 years into this already and you're nowhere near pulling in the kind of income that people say plumbers make.

But once you actually get into being licensed and bonded and the whole shebang, maybe you get a job with a company, because it's really hard to hang your own shingle, especially in the larger communities where nobody knows anybody else or the quality of their work. You'll work for a plumbing company like anyone else, and let me tell you, it's like any other company where profit matters most and it's for shareholders and not anyone else.

Now comes the part you probably have never heard about: many, many, many plumbers don't really have health insurance for most of their careers, and if they do, it's like the shittiest insurance possible and they have to pay for much of their healthcare out of pocket. Except that these are plumbers, they're constantly on hands and knees on hard, unyielding surfaces, bending, lifting...really physical, difficult work. How many of you actually know how much a toilet weighs? it's anywhere between 50-120 lbs depending on a variety of factors. All that, in addition to actually diagnosing whatever the problem is and knowing how to fix it. Do that for the next 20 years of your life and you're not going to have any knees left, you're going to have a bad back, probably most of your other joints are shot or on the fritz in some way, and this is if you were healthy to begin with and didn't have many health problems during your career. Depending on the collective bargaining agreement, sometimes the unions will cover your healthcare at close to 100% after that, but when it was easier to prevent a lot of it by having time off and the ability to afford care? None of that is covered.

Not only that, but most plumbers don't really get paid time off from work, either, depending on what the agreements are. I know it doesn't seem like plumbers ever work timely, but everyone thinks they have an emergency when the plumbing breaks, and you've got to triage the for-real emergencies alongside the "Timmy backed up the toilet again because he keeps flushing his toys and now there's water and poop and who knows what else everywhere." That's not including the emergency answering services where they're relaying that stuff 24/7/365.

How is that different from most of us today, you might wonder? Because they're literally knee-deep in your shit from morning 'til night. All of the weird stuff you do to screw up your toilets, your sinks, your showers, your fixtures, your pipes, they have to deal with all of it. All of the clogs, the gross hair masses, the half-eaten food from when the disposal stops working, the people who don't know not to flush things they shouldn't, the people who do know and don't care, the floods when the sump pump stops working or there's so much rain it just completely overwhelms it, the people who are sure they can "fix" it, the people who listened to youtube or tiktok and picked the wrong accounts for advice, and most of all, metric tonnes of your actual shit and vomit and whatever other bodily excretions you've got. That is all hazardous enough on its own, and if you think it's gross, I don't think plumbers feel any differently, but it is a part of their job and there's no getting around it. They are paid to deal with all of the stuff no one else wants to even think about. And after they've been exposed to your biohazards for 10 hours a day, they themselves have to pay for any care they need to make sure they don't die from it. You know how many people have dangerous mold in their bathrooms and don't know it? I bet a plumber can tell you.

Those are the conditions with unions trying to fight for them.

[As one more note, not everyone wants to leave home, and that's fine! Why does anyone assume there are no tradespeople in cities when that couldn't be further from the truth? Don't be arses about geography.]

tl;dr: plumbers don't make the money you think they do, they spend half their career earning next to nothing and then when they finally start catching up their bodies are so shot they can't enjoy it; in the middle they have to deal with everybody's grossness and basic repair illiteracy, and they pay for most of it themselves.

source: I was an external auditor for a lot of trade unions.

some of the worst classism is white collar middle class americans against blue collar & minimum wage workers. “why does that plumber make more than me” because he’s been perfecting his craft for 30 years and you send emails. “they’re in the trades bc they’re too dumb to do anything else” ok take that engine apart and put it back together real fast babe. “they’re boring bc they never left their home town” have you considered they financially couldn’t? I am not saying it is anyone’s job to educate, nor you need to respect people who do not respect you, but while you maybe never sympathize we need to learn to empathize. consider why (who) allowed for massive parts of country to be uneducated and how many impoverished areas of this country haven’t had a voice for a very long time. we are all victims of the rich. remember it is up vs down

[biteyoubiteme]

brrr

seungmin x fem!reader

⊹ ₊ ݁ . ❅ synopsis: friends with benefits either ends in love or indifference. ⸝⸝⸝ warning: fwb, reader and seungmin are toxic/avoidant/mean, not too much aftercare at all, mentions of menstruation, period pain, slight spit kink, mentions of no prep, no protection, creampie(s), oral (f!rec), lots of kissing, minho side character, I probably did forget some this time im so sorry

⊹ ₊ ݁ . ❅ wc: 13.5k ❅ . ݁ ₊ ⊹

❅ ⸝⸝⸝ now playing: brrr- kim petras an: this was not my best work pls forgive me ;-; ive had this idea since august last year and im glad I could get it down- this is not proofread im so sorry for any mistakes that you come acorss :p

[m.list]

The two of you weren't friends; you didn’t even share any acquaintances, classes, or hobbies. It was better for the both of you that no one knew the other existed; there was no need to make things messy with questions. It was a one-night stand that turned into two. Six months later, the two of you were still inviting each other over for no-strings-attached sex. 

You remember that second night when Seungmin rolled out of bed already halfway to putting his jeans back on when you asked, “Are you leaving?” The look he threw over his shoulder was cruel to anyone else, the one that said he would kick a girl while she was down in the dumps for him, put an end to any relationship with complete certainty, and never look back.

“I don’t want to sit and cuddle, I told you that already. I don’t do relationships,” 

“I wasn't asking to cuddle you idiot, I wanted to make sure you would lock the door on your way out,” you were sitting up in bed the sheet halfway up your body, “I need to shower and I don’t care enough to walk you out again,” 

Seungmin had huffed a laugh tugging his shirt on, “You didn’t walk me out last time,” he looked down at his phone flipping through his calendar, “Does Thursday at three work?” 

“Are you really trying to schedule sex like we’re a forty-year-old married couple?” 

“Yes, does three work?” he repeats himself looking bored. 

“I have a chem lab then, I'll be here at seven,” 

“Okay, I'll just meet you here,” 

And if you didn’t see Seungmin all week you would be sure to find him standing at your door Thursday at seven, hands in the pockets of his jeans leaning against the door frame waiting as you unlocked your door. Your standing dick appointment was penned into your schedule along with any other time one of you felt an itch. It wasn't past either of you to text randomly in the middle of the night a quick you up? 

In minutes Seungmin would be in your bed, on your couch, over the countertop, or even right at the front door. Neither of you really wasted time with kissing or prep, most of the time Seungmin’s spit was the most lube to help with the stretch of taking him so fast after he came in, it was a month in when he brought over a bottle of lube with him to keep in your nightstand. “look what I got you”

One of the nicer things he had done besides make you cum but you only ever used it if you made it to the bed. The only times he had his mouth on you was to keep his moans down after a noise complaint from your neighbors. Every sound pressed right against your pulse. 

Seungmin often came over when he was angry, always upset about one thing or another. Pressing your face into the mattress as he pounded into you, complaining about his classes, his roommates, and someone getting his coffee order wrong. Any slight towards him sent him right to your door, his perfect crutch to getting his anger out. It didn’t matter much to you either way as long as you had at least one or two orgasms by the time he left you were fine to be used without mercy. 

It was easy to ignore him, push everything away until he was there in front of you, leaning on the door frame already hard just knowing you would pull it open. But if you weren't in the perimeter of your apartment neither of you even looked at the other besides a sideways glance you would share with any stranger you walk past. 

It's how you could stand in the same line for coffee, a few feet away chatting with your friends while he picked up his order. Just a boy with a scowl on his face as he sipped from the still steaming up. You didn't even look at him as he brought his cup back up, cutting your friend in line just to complain. 

“He's always so rude,” she mutters as soon as Seungmin has gone, rushing out without a blink your way, taking his newly redone cup of coffee with him. “He was arguing with our professor the other week about the context of some passage. Went on and on and it was so awkward because he was kinda right but neither of them would drop it,” 

Seungmin had come over that day, the door slamming behind him when he finally came in, no questions as he pushed you down onto your bed, not even stopping to help pull down your shorts. “Stupid fucking prick, doesn't even know how to properly teach a class he's paid to teach-”  

But you just shrug now, arms crossed holding your coat like a blanket you could throw over your lies. You didn't care what Seungmin got up to when you weren't around, but it made sense that he was angry even outside the walls of your apartment. How he got through his fits before you wasn't your concern but you're sure he did have some other form of release. And now you knew he would be right back in your bed when you got home. Because it didn't matter how small the inconvenience was. 

And you were right, the second you turned the corner you could see his stupidly big black car sitting outside in the parking spot with your apartment number on it, unused when you spent most of your time biking or walking the short distance to campus. 

“It's fucking freezing outside,” was the only thing he said as he watched you roll your bike into its spot next to the entryway, your keys jingling as you pulled them from your coat pocket, twisting the doorknob and pushing the door open. 

“Is it the cold weather of the bad coffee that has you back here,” you ask, your smirk only making him roll his eyes. He lets you get out of your outerwear, watches you slowly unzip, the sight less tantalizing and more annoying. He knew you liked to play with him, especially when you witnessed the problem for which he came over in the first place. 

“Shut up,” he walked right past you to your bedroom, pushing open the door to see your half-made bed. He moved around like he knew where everything was placed and located. You're sure that if you asked him to do the laundry he would know where to fold and put away your clothes, even where to put the basket and fabric softener when done. 

You follow, shimmying out of your jeans before he's on you, pushing you against the wall and pulling your panties to the side. His fingers are cold and he runs them through your folds, your body jolting forward until your face and chest are the only thing keeping you up. “Warning next time?” but if he's going to warn you it's the first drag of his tip from your clit to your entrance right before he slams himself in. hands digging into your hips and he curses, sinking in all the way so that there is no room for you to get away, no way for your to fuck back onto him. 

“No,” he grunts, pulling out only an inch before slamming back in, picking up a steady pace that has you biting your lip, hands sliding down the wall searching for purchase as he holds you in place. You lean forward so that your shoulder can keep you up, hand snaking down to rub at your clit because you know he won't do it right now when he's so focused on getting off. 

He’s quick, grunting into your ear and you're right there at the edge ready to fall over when he pulls out. His cum dripping down your lower back after he gives a few short tugs of his slick cock, your whine an exasperated expectation when he's this fed up. “Seung-” he cuts you off with his fingers, shoving them back into your waiting cunt, pumping at the same pace he had been at before, letting you finish the second he curled the digits to meet the perfect spot inside you. 

It's a rush of a high before he pulls away, fingers in his mouth before he zips his pants back up. It didn't matter to you if he got you off when you had your hands to help. Neither of you was past using the other like it was nothing. You had done it before and you're sure it would happen again. Late nights where you called over Seungmin to eat you out when you just couldn't get off, toys doing little for you when you wanted someone right there between your legs. There were plenty of times you sucked him off without wanting anything in return, but finishing now felt like a bit of a gift. 

“Sorry,” he huffs, less an apology but a way to fill the space. 

“You don't have to apologize,” you try to look at the stain he's left on you, the warmth already cooling against your ass, “I needed a shower anyway,” 

To anyone else it would have felt cold, the dismissal as clean cut in your eyes as you waved him away. But it's the exact reason why you liked Seungmin, if even a little bit. He wasn't one to get attached, less so one to linger; hover around like the ghost of past regrets. The two of you knew exactly what this was, down to the way you turned around with a small goodbye, his in turn response just as cold, transactional. You would have it no other way. 

You jumped into the shower after hearing the door close, Seungmin always remembering to turn the first lock so that you would only have to deadbolt it when you were done. The routine down faster than it took you to memorize your class schedule. He was a constant you knew would always be around, one that you even liked from time to time when he could hold up a conversation longer than a few words. 

It hasn't always been like this, not that first night you met. The conversation flowed, aided by the drinks in hand, tucked into the corner of a frat party neither of you wanted to be at. It was a glaring contrast to the second night when you had called each other back. Less wanting and needy under the LED lights half hitting your faces and more like tonight. It had been one of the only times he had kissed you, lips chasing yours when you pulled away, hands greedy to get a feel of your body, so new and undiscovered to him. “I don't do relationships,” had slipped from both of your mouths between kisses, his apology then for feeling as if he had cum too soon and not because he had pulled out to release on your favorite lace panties. 

But it didn't matter, you didn't need an apology when he had stayed hard, finding himself back in you without stopping, making you feel things you never thought possible, finding your moans in his mouth, as he echoed back the perfect choir to match. It had been the best night you had had with someone, the one you turned to when you needed help to get off. And it wasn't as if you hadn't had great times with Seungmin after that, it was only different because the two of you knew who you were.  

You could see into each other and you didn't have to hide. Somehow you had stripped down to the basic raw instincts of each other, no need for the added layers of emotions when all you wanted was everything physical. Neither of you had to hide from the other when it would be no use in the first place, the two of you looking into a mirror that shouted back the same image. 

It's why when he came back hours later, the knock on your door had the same rhythm he always found, you didn't think to even turn him away. “It almost seems like you missed me,” his eye roll, a welcomed response. 

“Shut up,” but he couldn't deny the way he had already been hard just thinking about driving over to your place. The idea of someone being so open to taking him whenever he saw fit was something he found addicting, something he wouldn't admit to anyone except you but never in words. The confession tucked in between his moans as you sucked him off, the warm, wet skill you have over him bringing him to your door over and over again. 

He did miss you, in some strange way when there was no sex and he was sitting at your doorstep waiting or in the short time it took him to get up and leave, the small conversations shared before you got in the shower he liked the solace he found. The sex was an added bonus nonetheless. But he wouldn't be able to deny that he liked how easy it was to just be himself when around you. It was something he avoided thinking about too much but crept up on nights like this where you just wiped the corner of your mouth and sat next to him on the couch not kicking him out as you turned on the TV. 

The two of you could sit in silence that is not strained, no questions asked when the air is still. It was peace he didn't know that he needed; didn't even know that he wanted. And yet he always went home. 

Because when you woke up, tucked in on the couch right where he left you it wasn't surprising. You just picked yourself up and got ready for school all over again. Bundling up in an extra layer since the seasons were changing, the bike ride numbed your face and ears. Your lecture halls were stuffy with the heat turned up enough to make you flushed, stuck in a roundabout feeling as if you were defrosting. Your partner already waiting in the seats you had picked out at the beginning of the semester, assigned together at random to work together on your final assignment of the quarter. 

Minho was always on time, scrolling through his phone as he waited for you to join, coat thrown over the back of his chair. Your exasperated ‘hi,’ enough to turn his head in your direction, a soft genuine smile gracing his lips, the the edge of his mouth turned up. 

“I only got a few words in on the doc last night, the research isn't going too well,” he confesses while you pull out your laptop from your bag, setting it up once you have taken your seat in the unbearably uncomfortable chair. 

“I only got a few more lines in before i had to take a break, maybe we can work later if you're free,” it was usually how things ended up going, you got most of your work done after class while sitting over coffee growing cold. The work slowly devolved into giggling over stories you shared together. But you two always fell right back into working. 

“I'm free after my lit class, around three if that works,” it's how you ended up back at the cafe, your usual spot occupied by your laptops and books, research underway as you tried again and again to locate the proper evidence you needed. You needed Minho there in times like this to be the soundboard to bounce ideas off of, making sure that your topics lined up and you didn't have the wrong points being made. 

“I can never tell if I'm doing the citations correctly,” Minho muttered, blowing a puff of air out enough to tousle his dark bangs. The two of you had been sitting here for well over two hours, the sun just starting to set from the wintertime. It made the whole cafe feel warm now that most of the bustle of the campus was dying down, everyone just milling around doing work, muttering with their friends, the hum heavy in the air. 

“Let me see,” the table was long, filled with all the books and empty cups you two had yet to clear so you got up to lean over his shoulder to check. 

Minho sat with his hands in his lap, letting you look over the work he had done poorly, “what have you done?” The words are mostly a giggle at how messed up he got the format, every line was at a different indention, nothing lining up properly at all. 

“I have no idea,” he giggles right back, his hand rubbing down his face as he tries to hold back his laugh, “I really didn't want you to see it but it got too bad,” 

“I could have helped when you first had a question,” you remind him, leaning over the side of him to get the keyboard in place for you to help fix. It was something you would have done in the cramped library closer to your lecture hall, the larger study rooms always taken up leaving the single cubicles available, the two of you squeezing into one if you weren't lucky enough to find one together. It's why you preferred the cafe, so much space to look at everything you needed and apparently the free entertainment. 

Pushing open the door, Seungmin waltzed in, eyes glued to his phone before he ran right into the poor soul who happened to be walking right out at the same time. The crash is loud enough to turn everyone's heads, Seungmin's loud “fuck” echoing in the newly silenced room. 

He was drenched in coffee, the front of his cream-colored sweater only showing off the river of the stain for everyone to see it. The perfect design you would wear for a bad day. 

You're frozen leaning over Minho, his hand resting hot on your lower back to steady you. It's the first thing Seungmin sees when he looks up from his soaked sweater, his lip curling in as he holds back his frustration, balling his fists, shaking his head. It's a rush of apologies from the coffeeless person, Seungmin waving him away without the need for the theatrics, what's done was done, and now he's pissed. 

Minho laughs, loud and shocking in your ear, cute teeth on display for the cafe as you gape at him. “Bad day?” he asks, and unlike the rest of the cafe who tries to turn away, shy eyes from the mess made, Minho only racks his eyes up and down the front of Seungmin. 

“Now made worse,” seungmin mutters, not even looking at you as you stand up straight, Minho's hand leaving you as he pushes his hair away from his brow. 

“Oh this is my roommate by the way, seungmin this is my project partner, the one i was telling you about,” he gestures between the two of you, sharing your name, seungmin only sharing you a brief glance. 

“Hi,” “Hello,” it was probably the few times you two had shared niceties, even when he watched you walk up your front steps he was quick to complain about the wait and you were quick to tell him to fuck off. But it was clear Seungmin was surprised to see you now with his roommate. 

Seungmin hadn't even caught on that it was you who was Minho's partner until that very moment, seeing you lean over him, his hand on you like he was comfortable enough to even do so. He listened when Minho talked but clearly not close enough to realize it was you. Now not only soggy and angry he was able to admit the hint of jealousy he was feeling at the sight of the two of you. If not jealousy, annoyance that he hadn't caught on, annoyance that the two of you seemed so comfortable, so able to be seen in public. 

But the two of you had made the rule without thinking much about what it would do in the long run, no need to go on and on thinking about some kind of claim he had on you when in turn you two had no claim over each other at all. But it didn't keep him from feeling the crinkle of unease in his stomach, the feeling so similar to anger that it was easy to feel the emotions flip-flop with each other. “We are just about to finish up and I was wondering if you could take me home,” 

“Don't you have your own ride?” Seungmin asks, Minho was the only other one who had a car in the apartment they shared. It was the point of contention every night who got street parking and who got the lone parking spot by the front door. 

“I dropped it off at the shop before class and just walked the way, and it's too cold to walk back now,” Minho shrugs,“wait dont you bike home?” you've moved back to your side of the table, slowly packing your things as they talk, seungmin ignoring you. 

“Yeah, but I'm used to it, when it snows I'll catch a ride with a friend or just walk once it's settled,” 

“I could give you a ride whenever you wanted,” and he's so obviously flirting it's like you're caught. Seungmin is watching you, looking for your response as you blink at Minho who is smiling so sweetly the corner of his mouth dipped just right to turn any girl to agree just to see that smile again. 

“Flirting when I'm right here?” Seungmin flicks Minho's shoulder, and you can feel your face heat, as Minho rolls his eyes. It should feel small, like a joke, Seungmin poking fun at Minho in front of a girl he likes, but it feels like Seungmin trying to tug you from Minho’s hands.  The obvious glint in Seungmin’s eyes could be written off by his bad day but you know exactly what it means, if anyone knew what he looked like when pissed it was you. 

“Maybe i'll take you up on it for now youre right i should be back home it's getting late and i don't like to make the trip in the dark,” it's all you have to say to get away from really answering in front of seungmin, your bad thrown over your shoulder as you wave bye to them, “its was nice meeting you, see you tomorrow minho,” seungmin dipping his head in a stiff nod as you leave. 

It wasn't too long after that there was a knock on your door, the first words out of your mouth teasing him, “Is someone upset?” he doesn't even try to answer with his usual bite, his hands in your hair before he's nipping your neck, leaving a trail of wanting bites and muttered words you can't grasp. The door is kicked shut behind him as you clutch his shirt, still warm under his open coat as you stumble back. 

He was needy, hard already, and grinding into you as you fell back on the couch. His hands were hot, working off your shirt, not stopping to worry over your bra as he shoved his hands down into your sweatpants, sliding them down your legs along with your panties. 

It's rare that Seungmin comes over to eat you out, not unless you send him a text to head your way. Now with his lips on your clit it shocks your system, thighs trying to close in around his ears, hands twisting into his hair as he sucks. He doesn't even have to try to get you wet, he's lapping at your cunt like he had been starved for you, the lewd sounds only making you shake. It's when he slips his fingers in, curling them just right that you cry out, moaning without warning that the noises would even leave your lips. 

“Wait-” It feels too soon to finish, like everything is hurtling towards you as you feel the tightness in your stomach burns. You don't want him to stop now when you're crashing as he pulls his mouth away, thumb working over your clit to help ease you down from your hair, the fingers still inside you, pumping slowly as he watches the way you tremble for him. 

“Tell me you want it,” chin still slick with your wetness, his tongue darting out to taste you on the edge of his lips. Your heart is beating in your ears, so caught off guard that you're stumbling to keep up but Seungmin is right there tugging you closer to where you need to be. His thumb which had been so slow is now replaced by his persistent circles, speeding up the longer it takes you to answer. “Tell me,” 

“I want it,” you can't even remember what it was a few minutes ago opening the door for him, teasing only to be teased right back, now you're looking for anything to hold onto, searching for the right words as your mind spins. 

“Beg me for it,” he pulls his fingers from inside you, placing them on his tongue as he soaks in your desperate whimpers. 

“Please-” hips moving on their own, you're grinding forward trying to catch more pressure as he slows down his circling fingers on your clit. “Please Seungmin- I want it, please,” 

Free hand pushing down his pants he releases his aching cock, pre-cum bubbling up from the tip, thumb rolling over his slit to catch the release. “Louder,” his eyes are hooded as he watches, so dark you are sure that you'd fall into them if you didn't know what this was. But you couldn't care about that, not when he was demanding something so little of you. 

“Please- please Seungmin,” his lashes flutter at the sound, his name on your lips like an antidote to his frozen limbs. He moves so that he can sink into you, falling over your body as the two of you gasp at the entrance, the stretch gloriously needed to leave you mindless. 

He doesn't even realize he's doing it, nose to yours, breathing in the same air, gasping on the same breath, lips just brushing and before he can help himself he's kissing you, sloppy and consuming. The taste of you fills your senses as he finds it in him to devour you. Your arms wrap around his neck, hands pulling on his hair as you let him take control as if you ever had an ounce of it before. 

Every drag of his cock only draws out both of your hums, the slow pace only speeding up as Seungmin’s need grows. He had only been here yesterday, felt the warmth and squeeze of your cunt less than twenty-four hours ago, and yet even he could admit he was addicted. He needed a long fuck, that drawn-out ache working into his bones the whole way to dropping off Minho back at their shared apartment. The only thought on his mind was the way you said his friend's name instead of his, how many times had you uttered his name? How many times would you do it again if you had the opportunity? He wanted you to think of him in the way he was starting to think of you. 

Not in the way he had imagined, he knew I wouldn't fall into loving you easily as horrible as it sounded. Seungmin had come to the conclusion that he wouldn't find anyone to love, but you…you were an obsession, that jealousy twisting around his mind, burning down every rational thought until he couldn't help but need to hear you say it, say his name, over and over again. 

And you didn't stop saying it, the reverberation of it pressed to his lips as he tried to hold back his moans but it was impossible when you felt this good under him. He didn't even realize it was happening, the kissing, until he was cumming, his breaths uneven, whines pressed right into your mouth as you came along with him. The warmth of his cum spilling out of you with each added thrust he made, his face pressed into your neck to try and hide what he had done. 

His mind was clearing, from the jealousy, from the orgasm, from you, and he needed to leave.  

It felt so unceremonious; so quick to move from passion to regret. He shouldn't be here, not when it wasn't just anger getting him off but jealousy, unreasonable jealousy that felt heavy and sick in his stomach. He had no reason to be jealous, not now when the both of you had made it clear that if the other found a partner you would stop seeing each other. That the two of you would let the other know when it was even close to happening. And maybe that's why he was angry, not over the fact someone had the opportunity to get you in bed but because it would mean he would be left alone with nothing but his hand.

Since being with you in whatever way it was you had, he hasn't even tried to look for anyone else because he didn't have to and he didn't necessarily want to. He liked the ease at which you put him. Even now, pulling out of you and cleaning you up it felt so normal until your phone lit up on the table. Minho's name flashed across the screen for the small second it needed to let you know he had texted you. So late at night when you don't usually text your project partner. 

You didn't even see it, too busy throwing your clothes in the hamper, warming up your shower, and asking if Seungmin wanted to hop in with you. It was an offer, not a plea he knew as much. 

He could still feel your kiss, the thrumming of the memory scaring him more than he would like to admit. So much so that he's gone with a wave, ditched from the situation like it was the first week of seeing each other and not two years deep. 

You knew he would do it, the second he kissed you he would be gone. It was rare he made the slip up but it wasn't the first time and it wouldn't be the last time and each time you knew he would be out the door no matter how much you told him it didn't matter. 

It was something you had trained yourself not to be hurt over but it's not as if you didn't see it getting easier with time but it only got disappointing. Seungmin had only stayed over a few times in your bed, sleeping over without realizing he was doing it, not realizing that you two found each other sharing a meal over the course of a few episodes of TV, sitting around on your phones, sending each other videos you found funny because he was right there and on your mind. 

So you climbed into bed feeling drained and wishing for just one time you could spend it tucked back into it, not even cuddled, with him after a night like this where it seemed like he wanted you so bad he couldn't stop himself from taking and taking. But you didn't care, or it's what you liked to tell yourself, you had signed up for it, knew what you were asking for, and had enjoyed it, loved the rules you had fit so snugly against, all until it felt like a straight jacket you could pry yourself out of. 

It kept you up most of the night, the chill of the air outside sinking in between your floorboards making your bed seem warmer than it really was, wanting you to stay in it and skip the day so that you didn't have to face the ride to school. But you fell into the monotony of the day, dressing and making sure your bag was packed with everything you would need for the day. Minho has texted you to tell you he wouldn't be in today because of his car, needing to take it to get checked out across town. It meant you could leave early and work in the comfort of your own home but it also meant you had to keep yourself accountable in getting the work done alone. 

It's halfway to campus that the first snowfall starts, the fat white puffs coming down like rain; fast and hard. You have to keep your annoyance in check at the sight. It was snowing so much earlier in the year, that the hassle of finding someone to take you on the worst days already makes you upset. You can feel the scowl set in on your brow, the tilt of your mouth taking its shape. It's how Seungmin sees you, locking up your bike with your hands in fingerless gloves, spinning the combination, the snowflakes catching in your hair. Scarf tucked close to your chin, nose scrunched as the wind sends a flurry of snow in your direction. 

The decision is easy, he knows when your class is out, your schedule memorized just like you had his down. And when the day is over, your last lecture out he waits next to the bike rack not caring if anyone sees him. Leaning right against your bike he wipes away the build up of snow that had already accumulated. You don't even notice him, head down as you try to avoid the breeze. 

“It's snowing,” the sound of his voice startling you, the obvious observation making you irritable. 

“I know,” you tug on the lock, fingers already falling numb as you put in your combination. The second it clicks seungmin’s hands are on the handlebars, pulling it from its spot, and rolling it away from you. “What the hell-” but you don't stop him, following after as he leads you to his car, already on and warmed. 

The suv was completely oversized and obnoxious, the kind of car that was made for families or people with entourage, not a college student. But it was Seungmin’s prized possession, the only thing he put all his care into, and he was proud of it. You had made fun of it before, the spot in front of your apartment hardly big enough to fit it between the other two much smaller cars next to it. But he took no criticism of it, completely blacked out with its heated seats. It was a blessing when the road's reflection of the winter sun bounced off the blinding snow. 

You had only been in it a few times, that first night being one of them, his hand on your thigh as he drove you home. Even now it was a welcome warmth as you got in, body instantly feeling the effect of defrosting as you buckled in, seungmin lifting your bike to place in the trunk like it was something he did all the time and not the first occurrence. 

And for the first time, the air was stale between you two, not the usual understanding, not after last night when both of you couldn't get the feel of each other's lips to go away. The radio was low, your hands twisting together as an excuse to do something besides sit still; eyes dancing over the oncoming snow, raining down harder than it had been earlier. The soft thumps of the windshield wipers keep up with the pace of your thoughts, say something- don't, say something- don't.  

It's not until he pulls into his usual spot that you speak up, the light, “thank you,” fading into the background. The wind is howling, beating the flakes against the windshield at a rate the wipers can't keep up with, the inside of the car keeping the two of you in a reverse snowglobe, watching the world shake as you ask, “do you want to wait it out inside?” 

“If you don't mind,” he doesn't even share a glance your way, eyes passing you to look out the window before looking over his shoulder into the backseat, “we can just leave the bike in here for now,” 

The two of you rush out of the car, huddled close as you fumble for your keys, Seungmin standing in the way of the wind, taking the brunt of the weather before you push open the door. The two of you shedding clothes without the intention of fucking for the first time in a long time, your school bag falling to the foot of the couch as you move to turn up the heater.“Do you want anything to eat, i have a few snacks and things if you're hungry,” 

He already knows where the pantry is, pulling open the door to look inside. It's casual and yet you feel the distance, not only in the way you had been before, the barely talking had been comfortable, but now the barely talking felt heavy. But you wouldn't be the one to break it, it wasn't you who came around to take you home, it wasn't you who had kissed him. But you knew exactly why you wouldn't say anything. Somewhere the worm of thought was wiggling around your brain, telling you that you weren't as casual as you had hoped to be, you were in some way friends at the end of it all, even if no one knew about it. 

Seungmin pulled out a bag of popcorn, still folded nearly, ready to be popped. You sat back down on the couch, getting under your blanket and ignoring your work as you reached for the remote to the TV. The air filled with the buttery scent of fresh-popped kernels, seungmin reached for a bowl in the cabinet already having seen you do this exact task before. 

“I didn't know you knew Minho,” you don't even turn in his direction when he makes the statement, watching the TV shows and movies flip past, looking for something to watch. 

“Yeah we’ve been working together for most of the year,” you watch Seungmin’s lips pursed, nodding to your answer lightly before moving over to sit next to you on the couch. He kicks his socked feet up onto your coffee table and you click on a random show that neither of you care much about. “I didn't know he was one of your roommates, I knew you had them of course it's why you keep me away from your coveted apartment,” 

“It's not coveted, they are just nosey,” you lean over to grab a handful of popcorn as he chews, “and your place has no one else we have to worry about, if we went to my place yesterday and tried to fuck on the couch we would have a lot of explaining to do, and the decor is better here,” 

“So it's the decor and convenience that keeps you coming,” you're leaning on the armrest of your couch, half turned to him so that you can push your foot into his side. Toes cold as you tuck them under his thigh. 

“You know that's not the only reason,” but it's the way he looks at you when he says it that makes you freeze, the soft tilt to his eyes and the quick realization that he was doing it in the first place. But you knew it wasn't the sex, not when he was quick to flush about the statement. He never got embarrassed to talk about your sex life, seungmin was the most open partner you had, slowly pulling that same confidence out of you. He was easy to talk to about what you wanted and when you wanted it, his one-month-long journey to get you to speak up in bed worked wonders on the way your sex had evolved. 

But this, the blush on his cheeks staining your mind as you knew turned over the meaning in your mind. He knew the same comfort that you did, felt the same relaxation settling over him as it did you when you could just strip back to someone who was entirely yourself and yet hidden from so many other people. “I know,” it's a whisper because anything more would make him run, just like a kiss, anything more and he would be out the door in seconds, snowstorm be damned he would sit in his car. And you were starting to hate that truth, that fear he was feeling. So you kicked him again, “and you can't resist my-” 

“Do not start right now, I'm eating,” he cracks a smile, the corner of his mouth turning up as you fake shock. 

“I was going to say personality i have no idea where your mind was going,” 

“Your personality makes me sick,” his tongue poked out for a moment as you shoved your feet further under him, toes wiggling in the cramped space. 

“Your attitude makes me sick,” you quip, rolling your eyes as he leans over, hand sliding up your calf. 

“You love my attitude,” it's the kind of moment that would have led to sex, you could see it, him leaning over to kiss you,if he let himself. Spilling popcorn but neither of you cared as you fell into each other. But that wasn't the way things felt for you two, because that would have been too close to a couple and you could see that in his eyes when he pulled away.“I should head out soon before the roads get too bad and it looks like it's clearing up a bit,” he nods to your window, the curtains pulled back to see the light snowfall. 

“Yeah, let me get my bike-” 

“I'll just pick you up tomorrow, you're seriously not going to bike in the snow again,” he passes you the bowl of half eaten popcorn, setting it in your lap as he stands. 

“You don't have to do that-” 

“But I am, you don't have to worry about it I don't mind, and you can't deny you don't love the heated seats,” and you want to ask him to stay, and spend the night. He had clothes here, ones he had left and forgotten. He knew where in the drawer they were and put them occasionally, it wouldn't even be the first time he used your shower whether alone or not. Even sharing your bed wouldn't have been too much. But you let him go without asking. Too scared to be turned away, too scared to think about why you wanted him here this close when you swore to yourself that you wouldn't let that happen, he had told you it wouldn't happen. But the lines felt so blurred when he was being nice even if it was the bare minimum. 

So he left, took your bike along with him, and you found yourself alone in bed again, turning and turning as you tried to find the right spot to lay. You had accounted for the bad sleep to that, the constant moving, and yet the second you made it to the bathroom you found your period had started. Your groan sank into your stomach as you got ready. Seungmins knock on the door was punctual and all too much a reminder of not having enough time to crawl back into bed and skip. 

“You look like shit,” it's the first words out of his mouth and you're not sorry for the look you land on him. 

“I hardly slept,” you mutter, locking up and following him back to the waiting warm car. The few steps down were slick with a mix of melting snow and salt, Seungmin’s hand helpful as he hovered it just slightly next to your hip without actually touching you. It made you want to shout at him for being nice, for blurring lines you didn't think would ever be spotted with questions. 

It felt like he was toying with you, pulling on the little string on your back to hear you, all before he left again. It was tiring and you already felt drained. Especially when he was back to not knowing you on campus, the library filled with people, and there he sat with his friends, ignoring you when everyone else said hi when Minho introduced you, picking up notes he needed from one of them. It felt like falling backward, hurtling in a different direction than you had been going when on the couch together less than a day ago. 

And it was so easy to feel annoyed today of all days, when your cramps were starting to work their way through your body, and make you more uncomfortable than sitting silently in a car with seungmin as he took you home. But you did have to agree about the heated seats being the perfect makeup for not having to bike to school. 

But as you sat there trying to focus on the warmth under you all you could feel was pain in your lower back, that hollow ache pressed right against your pelvis. 

Seungmin could see the way you were trying to hold back a whine, eyes squeezed shut as you rested your hand over your stomach, leaning back with a frown on your mouth. He didn't say anything, just followed you back into your apartment unasked, and you let him too tired to care. “I don't feel like it today,” you muttered while he followed you into your bedroom, already halfway undressed as you slipped on pajamas. 

“Neither do I,” he shrugged, pushing out of his coat. “If you want me to leave I can,” 

But you don't tell him to go and you don't really tell him to stay. Groaning as you fall into bed, face pressed into the pillow trying to find some way that relieves even a bit of your pain. Seungmin climbs in after you, but not next to you as if he was going to nap but straddling the back of your thighs, hands warm as he pushes the back of your sleep shirt up, fingertips pressing into your lower back as you whine. 

He knew your periods would get bad occasionally, once you had texted him to come over just so that he could help you to bed, your body curled up on the bathroom floor, head pounding with a headache and nausea making it hard to want to stand at all. He hadn't said anything, helped you up, and took you to your bed without questions. It had been one of the truly personal moments you had shared and didn't care that he had seen you like that, didn't care if it had made you seem less sexy because it hadn’t, he had been back just as often as he had the week before. 

Now he massaged you, hands kneading slowly as you tried not to think about what it meant to have him here with you now. It would have felt embarrassing to have anyone else around to see you like this but at the same time, it was natural. And Seungmin liked to know he could make you feel good, not only when he was having sex with you but that he could make you feel good in a way that was similar to how you made him feel. He liked to know you were okay, liked to see that he could provide as you had for him when he was in his nastier moods. Because sometimes he felt bad that he used you, even if you had used him right back it left him feeling like he owed you an apology, even if you would never accept it. 

So you let him stay, let his warm hands work you to sleep. And when you woke up with the lights dimmed, curtains pulled closed to let you sleep in you felt like crying. Your bed empty but your bedside table dawned a full glass of water, a few painkillers, and crackers. He was gone but he hadn't left like it was nothing. 

You climbed into the shower trying to wash away the feelings that had started to cling to your skin, your mind. It felt wrong to hear his knock on your door and know the second you saw him you wanted to hug him and say thank you. You wanted to let him know how much it meant to you, how much it was affecting you. The only thing you could come up with as a thank you that didn't seem too much was to gift him your apartment spare key, shoved in the back of a junk drawer where it should not have been, the little heart keychain getting tangled in a bunch of old changing cables you had no use for anymore. 

It was a long overdue gift, one you should have given a year ago in the winter where he would stand next to the front door with his hands shoved in his pockets and shoulders to his ears. But you had been so used to avoiding your feelings that it was easy to write them off as nothing more than a complication. But now it feels silly to think that. This isn't even the first time he was nice, much less the last time seeing as he was already leading you down to his warm car. 

“Here so you don't have to freeze your ass off and so you can deadbolt my door when you leave now,” it was another casual dismissal like it meant nothing to hand your house key over to someone you only slept with when you needed to take a load off. But it was the way you knew wouldn’t make him run, if you had said it any nicer he would leave and you wouldn't see him for a week or more, damn it if you're cold or not. 

“Took you long enough, didn't I ask for a key once and you told me if I didn't make one there was no way of me ever getting one?” he slipped the key into his back pocket, the little pink heart made of easily shattered plastic hanging out right against his dark jeans. 

“Well you have it now so no need to complain about how long it takes me to make it back from campus,” you were setting yourself up for the morning when he didn't show up, did not knock or let himself in so that he could take you, snow or not you knew it would sting. 

“You love it when I complain,” your answering eye-roll enough to make him chuckle. 

You didn't think that he would use the key so soon, the weekend rolling in, no reason for him to pick you up, no reason to come over. He had even dropped your bike off right outside your door on Friday so that if you needed it you had it. Spending most of the day hunched over your books working on your project that you and minho would have to submit by the end of the week and present. 

It was late enough that Minho had logged off the shared doc and retired for the night and you knew you wouldn't hear from him until he was ready to put in work again. So you stood going over your presentation trying and failing to work your way through the parts you had to memorize. You got more points if you didn't use flashcards, and even more points if you only gestured towards the board and didn't need help to remember plot points from it as you flipped through slides. But you kept having to look down and remember the parts you had to interject in between Minho's parts. 

The task was distracting enough not to hear the door open behind you, your hand falling over your heart the second you turned and away Seungmin coming in, the flashcards holding Minho's parts of the presentation fluttering to the ground,“you scared me you asshole-” 

“I texted you like an hour ago that i was coming over,” and you know your phone is on the charger in the other room, turned face down to try and keep you from flipping it over and going on it to procrastinate. 

“We can have sex after you help me with this,” picking up all the notecards you file them in order shoving them into his unexpectant hands. 

“I don't really want to do homework this late at night, it's not even my homework,” fingers deftly working through the cards, “and it's not even your work i’m reading, shouldn't minho be working on this with you?” 

“He was busy and i didnt even know you were coming over so, wrong place wrong time, now help me,” you wave seungmin to sit on the couch, standing in front of the coffee table, closing your eyes to try and remember the first line in your speech. 

“He is back at home watching TV with the guys,” Seungmin says leaning back as he reads over his half of the cards. “And you know sometimes I come for the company,” it was the truth, or at least as much as he was willing to share. He didn't know why he had texted that he was on his way, he knew less as to why he couldn't think of what to say when he finally put his key in your lock. He was glad to have found you somewhat shocked to see him so that he wouldn't have to jump right into your bed but had time to do what he really wanted; just sit around in your presence. 

“Well either way I want a very nice reward for doing so much school work so late into the night,” and it had been a while since you had found each other twisted up together, especially after seeing each other around more often than usual these past few weeks. “For now I need you to read those when I get to the breaks,” 

Seungmin picked up the pace easily enough, pointing out the grammar mistakes that had been rushed over in haste to get the cards done. But you were thankful to have him help you. His easy chuckle and smooth cadence helped more than you thought you needed. Even halfway you order food to be delivered, taking a much needed break and calling it a night for work. You had been standing the whole time, looking for a way to make it seem less awkward talking with nothing in your hands. Now your legs were tired, your groan leaving you the second you laid out on the couch not caring about putting your feet into his lap while you did it. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, eyes covered with the back of your hand as you sighed through your nose. “I know it sucks to come over for sex and get this instead,” 

“I didn't come over just for sex, believe it or not. Sometimes I like your company enough to not be inside you,” but it didn't matter about him trying to brush it off when now all you could think about was sex. And with him looking the way that he did, half disheveled and relaxed was enough to make you want to sink to your knees for him. So you did. Sliding from the couch so that you could be in front of him, hands gliding over his thighs, looking up from under your lashes. 

“I mean we don't have to…” but just the sight of you like this on your knees for him was making him grow hard, his hands reaching out for yours, capturing them before you could find his zipper. 

“Sit with me,” but the words themself felt like a ‘no’, a direct denial that he could read over your features as they sink into you. But it wasn't the way he wanted you to take it, not when he couldn't get the idea of your lips out of his mind, not wrapped around him but pressed to his, chasing his mouth as he tried to catch his breath. So when you got up he pulled you down to the couch with him, pushing you into the fabric and finding your mouth without warning. 

He knows he shouldn't, knows it goes against the quasi-distance he puts between you two, and yet all he could think about was the last time his lips were on you, kissing you, trying to hide his truths right against your mouth. And you were so willing, arms pulling him in, needing him closer, wanting to be here, and not pushing him away like you should have. But even you couldn't deny how good it felt to have him this close to you, semi-hard just from the sight of you. And there was something about breaking the thin rules you two had in place like his need was more than his conscience. No longer able to resist himself. 

It was a slow kiss, exploring the way you fit together as if you hadn't learned each other's bodies before this one bit. All his kisses turned intense, dripping with desire as you spread your legs, letting him sink in closer to you, rolling his hips as he caught his breath on the edge of a whimper. And he was looking at you, really catching you in his sight, blinking down at you. His hair hanging around his brows that you couldn't help but push it back, fingers running through the strands as you tucked them behind his ear. “You look so pretty,” 

It was the truth, one you didn't know you had said aloud but you had, and now he was pulling away. Sitting up and leaving you laid out, disheveled, and feverish from a few kisses. “I have to go,” 

“Seungmin-” 

“No i should go, i need to go,” and it was a switch, that boyish smile cleaned from the surface like a stain he didn't want visitors to see, and you were just a visitor he allowed to see it occasionally but not one he let stay. Now his scowl was set in, his shoulders set as you sat up. 

“Fine, go, run away,” his eyes flickered at the dismissal as if he could be angry at you for kicking him out so willingly. 

You watch the way his eyes roll, “we have rules for a reason,” 

“Rules,” the word feels foreign in your mouth, arms crossing, “you're the one who came over, you're the one who told me it wasn't for sex, if it wasn't for sex what was it for? Huh? Think about the rules next time you want to stay a while,” 

“We said no kissing,” 

“You said no kissing, and I never kissed you first, think back to every time it's happened, you did it, take up the rules with yourself,” 

“You should not let me-” 

“Let you, you're acting like a child, get over it, people kiss all the time, go if you want to, act like you don't like me,” 

“Fine,” he mutters grabbing his coat, “and it's not an act,” you don't even try to stop him, let him walk right out and even listen to the sound of him locking the door, deadbolt slamming like the shutting of a heavy book, echoing in the room as you fall back where he had pressed you, heels of your palms pressed to your eye sockets, sighing. 

He was scared and you didn't help it, didn't want to push him so you pushed him away. The both of you are childish and cold to the other, running around like you don't know that this would one day crack so much so that you wouldn't be able to glue it back together. But you had never predicted it would be over a kiss or even the friendship you had started with one another. And even that made you want to cry, now alone on a warm couch soon to grow cold because he's not here anymore to keep you warm. 

He doesn't call or text you, doesn't even come to pick you up Monday morning. The snow already settled and mostly shoveled away from the roads and sidewalks, and a lot of other people from campus were already back to walking. And you had prepared yourself for this, your sadness turning to anger more than anything else. The walk filled with a scowl and half pouty stomp, cursing Seungmin under your breath knowing that if it was anyone else making you feel this way you would have called Seungmin over to work you out enough to let it go. And now you have no one to help you, having to find more conventional ways of getting your anger out. And so you turned to overwork on your projects. 

You spent more time at the library and the cafe, calling Minho to practice so that you knew in some way Seungmin might know that you were busy. The whole week you poured over every little note to take your mind away from his and his rare smile and soft kisses. And when you did see him at the cafe ordering a coffee neither of you acknowledged the other, brushing past each other like true strangers, like it had been before when you first set your rules.

But it did sting, like an ember that only aided a fire and didn't put it out because you bottled it up and didn't wallow over it. You wouldn't be the first one to crack, not when you didn't see what you had done wrong besides letting him do what the both of you were thinking. 

Minho had picked up on the irritation, “everyone is having a bad week, some of my roommates are in a pisspoor mood,” he commented while you waiting for your turn to present your project, “you should come out with us tonight, we are celebrating the end of the quarter with lots of drinks and dancing but mostly drinks,” 

Most of your time had been spent indoors and now would be the perfect time to get out. The much needed time away from your apartment, letting go and not thinking about Seungmin on your couch, and if he wanted you he would text you,or wait for you to come home. “That sounds perfect actually,” and Minho planned to pick you up for your place, texting you when he was outside and watching you lock up from the comfort of his car, headlights shining over you as you walked across to get to the passenger side door. 

Both of you had done great on your project, the time you spent pouring over your work and not worrying about boys with commitment issues helped tremendously. Now without a care you wore the shortest skirt you owned and didn't care if Seungmin saw or not. Until you made it to the bar and watched his eyes find you. Minho's hand in yours led you through the crowd to the table they had all gotten, seungmin’s jaw tight as he held his glass of water, gaze trapped on the way Minho helped you get into the booth. 

It felt liberating to be ‘allowed’ to talk to him in this sense. He couldn't hide behind the fact he didn't know you after this, you would now know of each other publicly even if he never did break and text you again. For now, you would sit and let him stew for as long as he wanted. And stew he did, watching every little move you made although he was trying not to seem obvious about it. He listened and didn't talk, nodding along to what his friends were saying and yet still treating the room like it was only you two and your fight between you. 

And when Minho asked you to dance you didn't stop yourself from agreeing, taking his hand and letting him hold you, standing as close as he wanted knowing exactly how angry it would make Seungmin to see. He traced the path Minho'shand had made on you, from the underside of your rib cage down to your hip, catching your eyes as he fumed. His tipping point when you caught him looking you knowingly blew him a kiss, the taunt going too far for him. His scowl set as he stood grabbing his phone and shoving it into his pocket. 

“I think I'm going to head home,” your hand cupped near Minho's ear, “I'm going to call a bad I'm a little lightheaded,” 

“I can wait with you-” he started, concern written over his face before confusion.

“I can wait with her, Chans asking after you,” Seungmin’s voice was a cool balm over your flushed skin, hot from the crowd, the lights. His face had an indifferent cold exterior as you nodded, “Yeah, you stay, have a good time,” 

Minho gave you one last final look over, nodding with a quick,“Okay, text me when you get home,” before you were walking out the same way you had come in. the chill sinking into your bones the second you left the stuffy club. Your phone in hand, fully prepared to call a cab just like you had claimed you would. 

“You could sleep with him if you wanted to,” Seungmin wasn't even in front of you when he said it, your head snapping to look at him over your shoulder, his brow raised like he was waiting for you to take the bait waving in front of you. 

“Oh I know,” the sarcasm dripped from you like venom. You didn't want to sleep with anyone, not when the one person who you enjoyed getting your anger out on was being an ass. 

“Go sleep with him, you have my permission,” he tipped his head in the direction of the door, goosebumps rising along your arms from the anger, the cold. 

“I don't need your permission to sleep with anyone, you don't do relationships, remember,” you were standing right at the edge of the pavement, where the sidewalk met the parking lot. “Go home,” the words felt heavy as you said them, hitting him with each syllable. You felt so silly standing here before him, both of you dancing around each other but you could see the cracks in him, watching the way the water bubbled to the surface ready to spill out between the two of you. 

“I'm just reminding you,” it made you sick, the arrogance, the casual brush off as if he wasn't the one who started the conversation over nothing. 

“Maybe I will sleep with him,” but you're bluffing, crossing your arms and stalking closer to him, your breath fanning white in front of you like smoke, “maybe he will actually invite me over and not run away from his feelings,” 

But he's angry even at the thought, “no,” the word like a slammed door at the unwelcome proposal. He looks disgusted, nose scrunched, shaking his head, “No,” as if repeating it would make it stick.  

“didn't you just say I could? Go back so easy on your word when people play with your toys, if you like me just admit it- stop acting like a toddler and fess up,” you're standing so close to him now, it didn't matter what height you were when in this conversation he knew you were right anyways you looked you would be the one on top. You just wanted once for him to admit it, say it without having to reduce yourself to begging him. You wanted him to say yes, to tell you, even if you had to stop seeing each other you would live with it because you could live with him being scared but not dishonest. 

But he just blinked back at you, mouth pinched closed like he knew it would drive you insane. Sometimes he loved to deny you, wait it out because it was better that way than just giving in to losing. “Let's go, you can't walk home it's too far,” the words felt like a clear wave of his hand, taking everything you had said and swiping it off the table into a drawer that was easy to slam closed and ignore for later, or never open again. 

You turned around, arms crossed, fiddling with your phone as if you weren't too angry to look at the screen properly. You would walk all the way home if it would fuck with him, just to say you did as petty as it was. You would be the only one at a loss and still, it didn't matter, you knew it would piss him off nonetheless, or if you went back in and asked Minho for a ride, that would hurt him even more. “I'm going to get a ride,” you throw over your shoulder, the angry padding of his following steps right behind you. 

“You already have one,” he holds up his key and you see your keychain as the only other one on there besides his house key and car key, the small heart dangling in his fist, “come on, get in,” 

“Admit it,” you don't care that you are stopped in the middle of the parking lot, standing there in what felt close to nothing, numb from the cold. 

Seungmin watched the way you shivered, hated that he knew you would torture his mind until the end if he didn't get you into the warmth of his car, no matter how badly he wanted to keep his mouth shut. Because he did like you, hated that he was backed in the corner to say it when he could hardly think about it when alone, less when he was with you and the idea was right over him. He was so good at ignoring things, he had been doing it since that first night that he had you. “Fine, get in the car,” it was already on and warm. 

“Say it,” your hip dips, ready to hold out. 

“I like you,” he says it like he hates the words, the tone chipped as you pull it out of him, but you know him, know him best when he's on the edge of anger and desire, “now get in the fucking car,” 

“Fine,” both of you headed for the car, Seungmin reaching out around you so he could pull your door open. He even helps by keeping his hand right on your lower back as you step up to get in, closing the door behind you as you reach over to turn up the heater. The seat was already warm and welcoming. He doesn't say anything when he gets in, putting the car in reverse, hand on the back of your seat as he twists to get a good view behind him. You sit watching outside the front windshield, arms still crossed as you ignore the way his shirt rides up across his waistband. 

“You could have cleared up so much if you had just said something sooner,” you mutter, “hell even if you didn't want me because if it did, it would have been better than sitting around thinking about how I must be a horrible kisser-” 

“I never said that,” he cuts you off, watching the road as the snow starts to come back down. The roads had been cleared and it was only a light dusting, flurries that would melt as soon as they hit the pavement. 

“Exactly you never say anything, you come, you fuck, you leave. I don't even mind it, I welcome it, but then you come over and just hang out, kiss me, and leave but deny you have feelings for me-”

“I never said I didn't have feelings for you, you never asked,” 

“I shouldn't have to ask,”

“I shouldn't have to be the one to start the conversation, you're just as much to blame as I am,” it shuts you up, lips twisting closed as you sink into the seat knowing he's right. But it didn't matter, what's done was done, and you were never the one to run away from him, annoy him yes, but you never ran. 

The two of you sat in silence, watching the snow fall, the anger slightly dissipating as you let the thoughts of him take over. You knew you were a hypocrite, and felt it as easily as you felt the feelings you had for him. You didn't want to push him away, you didn't want him to take you home to drop you off and ignore you all over again. Not when it would feel closer to breaking up than him not coming back to pick you up from school. “I like you and I don't care about the stupid rules, not when you like me too. I like you more than just the sex and that's saying a lot because you can be distant. And I like it when you kiss me, even when you don't mean to, I like it when you come over just to hang out, and I like your stupid car and its heated seats, and I like your smile,” 

The words came out in a rush, “I used to like that you ignored me and now I just hate it, and I hate your stupid jealousy over nothing at all, and I hate the way you make me feel sometimes,” 

“Like when?” His grip on the wheel was tight, knuckles white from the hold. 

“Like when you pull away from kissing me and leave me alone, when you don't show up to pick me up the next week and walk past me like you don't know me anymore, when you watch me dance with someone else and you don't admit when I'm right. And I hate it even more that when you kiss me and it doesn't make you want to stay but run,” your throat felt tight, your teeth working into the flesh of your lip, trying to ignore the way this conversation was making you feel. You didn't even notice him pulling off the shoulder of the road, not until he was putting the car in park. 

Unbuckling his seatbelt he leans over, catching your chin in his hand, pulling you to meet him halfway across the center console to press his lips to yours. You know he's doing it to prove a point, the slow kiss weakening you. Breaking the kiss, you're only just ghosting your lips over his still searching ones, “Seungmin-” 

“I like you, a lot more than I care to admit, and I-” he doesn't even open his eyes as he says it, brows coming together as if it pains him to admit it, “I want to spend all my time with you, I want to kiss you over and over until we can't breathe and I want you to want me as badly as I need you,” his nose bumps yours, the whispered, “please,” pressed right against your mouth, so close its as if it came from your mouth too. 

And you can't help yourself from clinging to him, pulling him by his shirt, hands fisted in the fabric as he devours you. His hand slid behind your ear cupping your skull to get you as near as he could and still he needed you closer. With his free hand, he clicked your seatbelt button, needing it off of you. It was easy enough to follow his instructions, even the silent ones after so long of knowing each other in movements instead of words. 

Pushing out of your seat you made the climb over to his side, his chair pushed back to give you room when between him and the steering wheel. Your skirt bunching around your hips, now short enough to be a belt in this position; arms wrapping around his neck as he holds your waist, keeping you steady as your knees dig into the sides of the seat. He doesn't give you much time to wait before his mouth is back on you, his control slipping as you meet him with the same need, his exploration of you turning messy in seconds. 

It's when he starts to kiss down your jaw, mouth open and hot against your skin that you feel how hard he has gotten, pressed against your thigh as you roll your head back for him. He drags his teeth over your neck, kissing away the trail, groaning at the taste of you. He wants more, needs more, hips rolling up into your as if that bit of friction would fix anything. It didn't matter how many times he had you, he would need more, needed to hear you say his name like you did now, meeting him with a slow tantalizing grind back down on him. 

Your nails scratched along his scalp, gripping his hair with one hand as the other wedges between you two fiddling with the button on his pants. “We don't have to,” he's gasping, the car steaming up. The snow thickened against the windshield, the wipers cut off once he had pulled over.

“I want to,” you say against his mouth, relishing in the way he gasps as soon as your hand grips him. He's never been so whiny before, vocal as you rise on your knees, panties pushed to the side as you drag his tip through your slick folds.“Tell me if you want me to stop,” but he's shaking his head, nose brushing your cheek, hips pushing up to try and catch your entrance before you can think about stopping. 

“No, don't stop,” hands on your hips holding you hard enough to bruise the second he slips in an inch. “Please don't stop,” 

The stretch makes you gasp, forehead to his as he tries to keep himself from pushing all the way in so fast. But you don't care, you want him as deep as he will go, as close as you can get him. Sinking down you take in the overwhelming feeling, hand falling to your stomach as you moan, “You're so-” the words won't even form anymore, brain finding it hard to make connections to your mouth now that you had him this far in.  

“You always feel so fucking good,” Seungmin groans, body melting into the seat, the warmth of the heater only making the two of you flushed and easily pliable. “I knew it that first time that your pussy was made for me,” he rolls his hips finding any room that he can to give his shallow thrusts, his pelvis pressed to your clit making you blink hard. “Can you feel it?” 

“Yes-” the word a confession as you find your own pace, grinding your hips, finding a rhythm that would have you finishing without much effort, but you know it's because it's him, the way he knows your body, fits you so well. His nails scratching at your clothes, finding a grip so that he can use you as leverage to rock into you, tip pressed right to your g-spot at this angle. 

“You're so fucking perfect, how could I not like you, how could I not think about you and only you,” his puppy dog eyes watching you, his hair a disheveled mess, brows close together as he whimpers again. “Look at you,” his sweet mewls fill up the space, one hand on his shoulder and the other on the back of his seat as you drag your hips back and forth on him.“So pretty riding my cock so desperately,” 

“I want you to cum for me, please, please,” you can't even keep yourself up anymore, crowding his space, pressing your lips back to his as he takes over, and you know he's cumming the second he starts to tremble, mouth frozen in a moan as you catch the sound in the back of your throat. Your own climax triggered by the sight of his, by the feeling of being so full. He can't even stop himself from using your hips to ride back down on him, wanting to keep you right where you were, full of him in every way. 

You wrap your arms around him, his face tucked into your neck, the light kisses over your still hammering pulse only making it flutter longer than calm down. It's not until you pull back to look at him that you see that hazy smile on his features. “Come home with me? Spend the night,” 

His smile only grows, spreading across the expanse of his face until he's nodding, “I do have a key, maybe I could stay longer than just the night…” his eyes caught on the way you smile right back at him. 

“As long as you want, since I happen to like you, I could keep you around for a long, long time,” both your smiles caught against each other's lips right before he's back to kissing you. 

taglist 🏷: @kissmekissykissme @seungfl0wer @lunesdesire @chasingthatjjunie @possum-playground @ch4nn13luv @izzyy-stuff @jellymochii @yeoningz @filmnings want to be added to the taglist? check out my rules to see how to join! want to be taken off the taglist? send an ask!

[channiesbakery]

fan account —

prompt / request — minghao finds your old fan account, and finds out that it wasn’t for him

pairing — fan!reader + boyfriend!minghao

word count — 923

genre — fluff

when you and minghao first started dating, you’d mentioned that you had a fan account before meeting him. you’d asked him if he wanted to see it but he declined and it never really came up again.

until today.

you’re just on your couch, peacefully reading your book when your usually calm boyfriend barges into the apartment.

“babe, we need to talk,” minghao states and you sit up, thinking it was a serious conversation.

“is everything okay?” you ask, seeing the serious look on his face. “no! nothing is okay! how could you!” minghao exclaims and now you’re really worried, trying to figure out what you’d done.

“what exactly did i do…” you trail off, not able to think of anything you’d done wrong recently. unless he was mad that you didn’t put the laundry away immediately or make the bed as neatly this morning. you knew your boyfriend liked everything to be neat and tidy but surely he couldn’t be this mad about that.

“i was just peacefully scrolling on my instagram explore page today when a certain fan account popped up,” minghao starts to explain, pacing the room a little.

“they posted a nice photo spread of my photo cards with a pretty tea set so i decided to stalk their page–”

“you stalk your fan’s accounts?” you raise an eyebrow, cutting him off. “i like to see my fan’s creativity. that’s not the point! anyways, i realize that this entire account is pretty much 90% dedicated to hoshi,” minghao says.

“and what’s worse is that i continued scrolling through it to find a photo of you! my girlfriend!” he exclaims.

“wait, this is why you’re upset? because you found my old fan account? babe, i told you about this when we started dating and i even asked if you wanted to see it,” you remind him.

“I’m not upset about the account. I’m upset that it’s dedicated to kwon soonyoung!” your boyfriend clarifies and you can’t help but be amused.

“seriously? it’s not that big a deal, babe. i has that account before we started dating– hell, before we even met,” you shrug, picking your book back up.

“okay but why hoshi?” he practically whines. “he was my bias back then–”

“he was your what?!” minghao gasps. “you biased hoshi? kwon soonyoung? hoshi?” he just stares at you.

“jealous?” you tease. “you biased him? your bias is a furry!” minghao gapes at you. “why did you even have so many photo cards of his,” he asks.

“okay it wasn’t my fault i always ended up pulling his photo cards in albums,” you shrug. “you should’ve sold them. and bought mine instead,” minghao states, his expression dead serious.

“aren’t you the one who tells your fans not to buy photo cards?” you give him a look. “this is different! you’re my girlfriend and you’re collecting a furry’s photo cards,” he argues.

“in my defense, i wasn’t your girlfriend when i was collecting him. besides, it’s not like hoshi’s the only one i posted on that account! I posted spreads for pretty much everyone, including you! it was just mostly hoshi and jeonghan because they were my biases,” you point out.

“oh great, so you biased the guy who thinks he’s a tiger and the one who has a pet rock,” he says dryly.

“i might’ve biased them but you’re the one I’m in love with now,” you assure him, pulling him in for a soft kiss.

“so… where is your photo card binder?” he questions after pulling away and you raise an eyebrow at him. “you are not burning my collection,” you warn.

“i wasn’t going to burn it. i was going to sell it. and then use that money to buy you photo cards of me,” he corrects.

“it’s okay babe, i don’t need a photo card of you when i have the real thing,” you tell him, kissing him again before you focus back on your book.

you think minghao lets it go after that but you’re proven wrong a few weeks later when they have their comeback.

he comes home with a gift bag for you, making you raise an eyebrow. “shouldn’t i be the one giving you a gift to celebrate your comeback, not the other way around?” you ask but happily accept the gift.

he watches as you pulled out every album version. you don’t realize that the plastic seal had been broken on all of them as you open it.

you open the first album, checking your photo card pulls as your boyfriend watched with a smirk on his face.

“oh my god, all three hao’s? i don’t think I’ve ever pulled only one member before,” you say, setting down the three different photo cards of your boyfriend.

it wasn’t until you opened the carat version that you realized your boyfriend had done something.

“seriously?” you give him a look when you flip the photo cards to reveal, once again, all of his. plus the carat binder was also his.

“i guess you’ve lost your hoshi luck, honey. you got lucky pulling all of mine,” hao says innocently.

he watches as you pick up your phone, expecting you to take a photo of your pulls but instead he sees you tapping on it, most likely texting someone.

“who are you texting?” he asks and you look up at him. “hoshi. to ask for his photo cards,” you say, dead serious.

“hey! i posed cutely for all of my photo cards just for you and you still want his?”

[mintmatcha]

Inevitable Things : chapter twelve

aizawa x reader fic

cw: aizawa x reader, cisfem reader, office AU, no quirks, fingering

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Sticky and wet. Your pants are sticky and wet. 

Pulling your panties up while still damp was a big mistake, you think as you walk back through the restaurant. The water you spilled in the restroom is all down your ass and is quickly cooling to an uncomfortable temperature, not to mention the absolute mess of cum and spit that's currently in the gusset of your panties-

And yet none of it manages to ruin your mood. 

Really, you should feel bad. Guilty, at the very least. You should be feeling bad about doing this to Touya, doing this in a public fucking space--

But, you don’t. Not in the slightest. No, you feel good. Better than you have in a very long time. There’s a levity in your step that you don't think you've ever had. It takes effort to tamp down your smile as you slide back into the table, adjusting your hair just in case. Your whole body is buzzing with post orgasm bliss, but you can't let Hizashi know that. 

“Oh my god, there you are!”  Hizashi slams his hands down and groans. “I thought you got lost!”

You never even got to pee. That’s a bit of a bummer, but you think it’s a worthy sacrifice. Fuck, you’ll never pee again if that's the alternative.

“There was a line,” you dismiss. God, you need to cum more often. This is great. Maybe you can masturbate tonight when you get back to the hotel room-

A tingle thrills up your spine as you remember the fact that you won't be alone tonight. No, Aizawa is coming back with you, putting that talented fucking mouth of his to good use. You should have tried this years ago; it certainly would have made work more tolerable. It would have made Aizawa more tolerable too.

 Fuck, you wish you could tell Hizashi that he was right; having fun is great. You had almost forgotten that being in love could be fun. 

Not that you're in love. That would be criminally insane. You're just high off of post orgasmic bliss. 

“Where did Aizawa go?” you ask, casually. Hizashi quirks a brow as he takes a sip of his drink. 

“Taking a call. Manufacturing had an issue, apparently.” 

“Again?” 

Manufacturing is always having an issue; it comes with the territory for biomedical companies. Production of the products is actually outsourced, including the computer chips needed for the bed. Most of the time, issues can be dealt with internally, but there are also times that it has to be elevated all the way to engineering. It’s a good lie, in theory, but Aizawa is going to have to explain why they are contacting a lead engineer and not someone lower on the food chain.

“Um,” you shift in your seat. The excitement inside you needs to come out or else you might explode.  “I got a text from the guy from last night.” 

“Shut up-- that’s why you were gone so long, huh? Sexting in the bathroom?”

Oh, he’d die if he knew the truth. Absolutely die.

“We weren’t sexting.” Not a lie! “But, I think I'm going to invite him over to my room tonight.”

Hizashi tilts his head down so he can look at you from over his glasses. It's a very Nemuri move, complete with her little smirk. 

“Are you gonna just make out again, or…?”

You tap your heels against the floor.

“No,” you hum, as innocently as possible. 

“No?”

“No, I--” Oh, you have to literally bite your tongue to kill your smile. It's like being sixteen again, giddy and giggly over nothing-  “I think I wanna do more.”

With a mouth like that, you might just let Aizawa do whatever he wants. Hell, you had asked to go slow, but now that you've had a taste, you don't know if you can keep the brakes on. You had forgotten how good it feels to be wanted, to be craved, to be touched… and Shouta seems determined to give you everything you need. 

 Hizashi physically reacts by grabbing the table and shaking it with a slack jawed amazement.

“Yes! Yes!” You have to grab your drink and Aizawa to stop them from spilling, but you're laughing all the while. “Good for you!”

“Hizashi, the waters!”

“Who is this guy?” Hizashi asks. “Is he cute? Is he nice?”

Is Aizawa cute? Not really. He's more… handsome than cute. Hardened, but soft. And he's certainly not nice. In fact, you’d label him as very not nice. Mean, even. Though, he did get you that sandwich this morning, which was really sweet. And he has those cats, which makes him a little softer than you first imagined-

“He's okay, I guess,” you settle on. 

Hizashi nods, a bit too solemn. It sets you on edge, the way he clams up as he watches you, eyeing up and down over and over. You can practically see the gears turning in his brain as he thinks.

“Shut up.”  He leans in on his elbows, sternly.  “It's Shouta, isn't it?”

Don't panic. You're pinned down, like a bug under glass, but you can't panic. Luckily, your brain is still stupidly swimming, so you're able to fight your institution and just stare back at him with what you hope is a bewildered glare.

“What.”

The man leans back and scoffs, then scoffs again, louder. His hand lies over his heart as if you've slapped him, indignant. The restaurant suddenly isn’t loud enough; you need the music to be turned up or for the crowd to get thicker to hide what’s about to come out of this man’s mouth.

“Oh my god, it's totally him! You’re totally boning!” 

Fuck. Double fuck. 

“I mean, you both just disappeared at the same time-”  Hizashi jolts up mid sentence. “Did you guys just fuck in the bathroom?! Oh my god, good for you! Is he good? He’s gotta be good-”

Oh, shit. Oh, damn. The room might be closing in on you actually. It's time to do what you do worst: lie. You push away from the table with a snort, lip curled up the way Aizawa's does.

“That's disgusting , Hizashi.” Oh, there’a vitriol in that. You almost smile out of pride, but you keep your cool. You have to-- you can't ruin this thing between you before it's even really started. “In a bathroom? With him? I'd rather die.” 

Your charade doesn’t seem to affect him.

“Oh, come on-” he laughs. “You're telling me you two don't have something going on? You both just magically found other people last night?”

“I wouldn't sleep with him if he was the last man on earth,” you insist.  “Aizawa is awful! Awful! Why would I ever-?”

A figure looms over you. “What did I walk into?”

Triple fuck. From someone who stomps most of the time, Aizawa certainly has a quiet step today. You swivel around, trying to flash a panicked look. Somehow, Aizawa seems to understand. His brow flickers up for a brief second, then returns to the usual unimpressed spot. Should you be worried that the two of you have figured out lying this easily? Usually, Touya just lies to you, not with you.

“Hizashi thinks we're sleeping together.” You wave a hand dismissively. You hope that no one else notices that Aizawa’s face is noticeably damp-- freshly washed.

“Ugh.” He rolls his head back as if he’s been slapped, sliding into the seat beside Hizashi. His foot bumps against you and you question if it’s on purpose. Is.. was that his good leg? Or the bad one? Maybe he’s kicking you accidentally.  “Her? What's wrong with you?”

Oh, ouch. That. Huh.

Logically, you know it’s just part of the lie you’ve started, but it still somehow stings. Rejection, even fake rejection, makes you ache. It falls too close to home, too close to Touya. (Not that you’re thinking about Touya tonight. No-- you’re allowing yourself to have fun. You’re forgetting him the same way he’s probably forgotten about you--)

 Swallowing down your pride, you adjust yourself in your seat, pulling on your still soaked pants-

“You aren't a prize either.” Again, your own bite surprises you. “I've been dealing with your shitty attitude for years and-”

“My shitty attitude? You're the one who stomps around when your boyfriend gets fired.”

Your jaw falls slack. Okay, you should be offended, but… there’s an edge of something attractive in the way his dark eyes narrow. The grit to his voice reminds you of moments ago, how he talks to you when you’re alone-

“That’s rich.” You’re watching his face. Oh, that sting? It’s changed. Now, there’s a simmering want inside you, begging to be fed. You need him mad, need him angry, need him riled up- “Where’s your girlfriend?”

There’s a freeze. Both men have mirrored expressions of surprise. Aizawa blinks, then tightens his expression. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, that’s right.” You lift your glass and pretend to inspect the liquid inside.  “You’ve been single since I’ve met you.”

Stunned, Hizashi opens his mouth to say something, but Aizawa beats him to the punch. He bends over the table with a glowering expression, those dark eyes boring into you. It reminds you of the fights you two had in office, but now that expression thrills you instead of terrifies.

“Oh, fuck you,” he seethes. “Sorry that I’m not whoring myself over the office with the interns.”

Oh, you kind of want to suck his cock right now. Obviously, you’ve always had a thing for red flags, but this is kind of ridiculous. He must have done something fucking magical or satanic to you pussy to make you act like this. Are you acting insane? You might be acting insane.

“Excuse me?” you ask through your teeth.

Oh, he’s riled up now, his eyes narrowed into slits. “ I saw those bruises you sucked into Kaminari.”

That steals a genuine laugh from you. Is that a genuine concern for him? You certainly hope not; Denki is… well, he’s Denki. He’s a sweet guy in his own regard, but you wouldn’t touch him with  a ten foot pole. He’s young and, clearly, you prefer older guys.

(Huh. That’s a new revelation for you. Touya is your age, but… There’s something unbelievably sexy about the grey at Aizawa’s temple, the wrinkles next to his eyes-)

“You think I’m fucking that kid? Fuck you.”

“Fuck you.”

Oh, you hope he does. You hope he absolutely ruins you. 

“Fuck-”

“Okay, okay,” Hizashi interrupts you, arms spread as if keeping you both from leaping over the table. “You people! What happened to the truce?”

“You happened!” 

Somehow the rest of dinner goes well. Hizashi makes sure the conversation steers towards work and his plans for the night. You do have to give the wait staff an extra big tip-- Hizashi may have said ‘butt plug’ a bit too loudly for the poor guy’s comfort.  

Occasionally, Shouta looks your way. He ponders a bit too long on your features, has a bit too much of a smile on his face. His leg bumps against your again, a silent reminder that he’s there. Honestly, thank god that Hizashi was convinced by your lies, because this man is being obvious.

And frankly, you’re living for it. 

You’re still vibrating with excitement by the time you all leave together. He’s coming back to your room tonight, coming back for more. You might be getting addicted to this feeling, addicted to being wanted, to cumming on someone’s tongue-

Maybe you should throw caution to the wind and fuck him.

Oh, that thought sends a chill up your spine. It’s been so long since you’ve been filled. Sex always came with anxiety before, but now, you might be excited. Especially when Aizawa’s cock seems so fucking thick-

“You all ready for tomorrow?” Hizashi’s voice shocks you out of your thoughts. God, you’re worse than him! One orgasm and you’ve devolved into a needy pervert. 

Aizawa groans, pressing his thumbs into his temples. The hotel lobby buzzes with life as you all enter. The tiles seems to get more dazzling at night, blue illuminated by the dangling chandeliers and air of excitement. 

 “No. It’s going to be a long night.”

Hizashi elbows his friend’s side. “No mysterious girl for you tonight, huh? Too busy studying?”

Aizawa is starkly quiet for a long moment, mouth screwed tight as if the question upset him. You almost worry that he’s considering it-- that he’s going to go back to his room  without you, and dread sets into your bones. The need has already built back up inside you, anticipation tingling all the way to your fingers. It’s a little alarming, how quickly you’ve gotten addicted to the idea of fucking him, to cumming with him-

Aizawa shrugs away your worries. “I’ll find time.”

Internally, you cheer.

“Aw, you dog. Now- Do I need to supervise you two?” Hizashi teases as he turns on his heel, walking backwards into the hall.  “Escort you to your rooms so you don’t murder each other in the elevator?”

“I think we’ll manage,” you say as you press the button. Hizashi leaves and the two of you are left in silence.

The elevator door rumbles closed behind you two after you both set in. Aizawa shifts back against the wall with a sigh, barely audible over the gentle muzak. He looks tired, but in a different way than usual: a gentle, content exhaustion, one that wears well on his features, but doesn’t deepen the creases on his brow. It suits him much more than the usual, miserable look he has. 

“I should stop by my room before-” Aizawa starts.

You press off of the wall and close the distance between you. It doesn't matter what he was going to say, because you weren't going to listen anyway. Instead, you press yourself up on to your toes and catch his lips mid sentence, moving fast and sure enough that you catch him completely off guard. You can feel his surprise in his inward gasp as you force him back against the cold steel wall. There's a moment of hesitation -shock, you realize gleefully- before he caves into you, hands on your waist dragging you in until your hips press against his. 

The quiet gives you space to enjoy the tiny moments he gives you: the hitch in his breath when you hold him tighter, the rumble in his chest when your teeth close around his lower lip, the sound of fabric against fabric as his hands drift lower and his hands grip your ass- 

“You really piss me off,” he mumbles into you. “You get off on lying, don’t you?”

Only with him, you think. Only with you. The door dings open and you loosen your grip, but Aizawa holds firm, holds tight. 

“Aizawa,” you mumble into his lips, but he just keeps going. “Ai-”

Another peck shuts you up for a moment. 

“Shouta!”

Finally, he reacts and lets you go, his touch trailing on you for just a moment longer. You have to jut out an arm to stop the door from closing again.

“Listen-”  he exhales. “I am going to my room. I’m going to shower, brush my teeth, then come to you. Okay?”

More than okay. Perfect. Excellent. Ideal. 

“Okay.” You try to play it cool, but his nose wrinkles in delight at the tremble in your voice. “I’ll be waiting.”

 Stepping out of the elevator, you glance behind one last time. It feels like you should say something, give him a goodbye, but instead you just watch the doors close in silence. His eyes never leave you, staring with a silent, hungering desire.

You might have to fuck him. 

Back in your room, you do the same as him. You brush your teeth, rinse the day off of your body, and contemplate yourself in the fogged reflection of the mirror. The buzzing in your skin is either anxiety or excitement, maybe a bit of both, but you can’t stop riding the high that comes with them. Being wanted feels good, too good, impossibly good- so good that you’re afraid it’s about to be taken away.

Logically, it will be. This… thing must have a terminating point somewhere. There’s no possible way that the two of you continue this into the workplace, is there? Everything ends at some point, everyone leaves eventually-

No. Focus. Have fun. Focus on having fun.

You didn’t pack any perfume, so you hope the hotel body wash smells alluring enough. Your hair still looks okay enough that you don’t need to bother styling it- but you still try to, just a bit. It’s normal to want to look nice, to smell soft, to be soft, but there’s also an embarrassment to wanting to be pretty. You hadn’t felt it before, but now, you’re suddenly concerned about the curves of your body and how it sits differently than you want. He’s seen most of you before, and yet you’re now caught up in the imperfections. Which underwear did you pack again? Nothing sexy, that’s for sure. Only skin tone bras too. Fuck-- you don’t actually know if you own anything enticing. 

Do you even own anything sexy?

What clothes should you even wear for him anyway? I’d be strange to put your clothes back on, right? What about pajamas? What will he be wearing? Hopefully not that fucking yellow sweatshirt he works in. You find yourself pacing around the room in only your towel, tidying up and trying to decide what the best option is. Maybe just a shirt? Like Winnie the Pooh?

No, that’s stupid. Ugh, you wish you were someone like Nemuri, someone bold and sexy and confident--

What would Nemuri do?

The dreaded knock at the door stocks you from your worry. You make a quick decision; turning out all of the lights, you tiptoe to the front door and peer out the peephole. Yes, it’s him, dressed in a simple white shirt, dark hair freshly washed. His expression is unreadable, as usual, but perhaps on the brink of anxious. 

Why would he be nervous? The thought makes you giggle. Maybe, just maybe, he’s just as jittery as you are over this-

But you doubt it.

Before you lose your nerve, you open the door, still in your towel. Aizawa’s eyes widen just a bit, then narrow with a keen excitement.

“Am I too early?” he teases.

“No,” you reply, “Just in time.”

And you let your towel drop.

A beat passes before he reacts. Aizawa’s jaw literally drops. Before you can revel in the satisfaction, he’s crowding you again, hands ghosting over your body as if he can’t decide where to touch first. His shirt is rough against your bare skin and you’re suddenly very aware of how your nipples have pearled up. The hotel’s air conditioning is rolling, much colder than you’d ever make your home, and your skin is goosepimpling under it, but you’re still so hot, so warm-

“Oh god,” he whispers, breathy, barely sane. “Look at you.”

The first kiss is wild, breath stealing, rough- it forces you back a step, just far enough that the door slams closed and leaves you in the dark. His touch has settled on your chest, cupping your tits up between his fingers in a boyish way, one that's so much less precise than his usual way of loving you. 

“God-” he says again. “God-”

Suddenly, his lips are gone and you can feel him hunched over you, breath hot against your tits. The gentle tug of teeth scares a gasp out of you, then floods your body with heat.

“I want to see you,” Aizawa's mouth closes around your nipple for a second, his spit cooling almost instantly. ”I want to touch you-” 

His hand wraps around your thigh and squeezes. Your body burns hot, your core tight, cunt wet- Hotel darkness, with the curtains drawn, feels deeper than home. Only the red numbers of the clock illuminate the nightstand. You can't see how he moves, how he looks, but you can feel it--

And you want to feel more, more, more, as much as he'll give you.

“Touch me,” you beg. “Please.’

He drops to his knees with a quick, labored exhale. Fuck- his leg. He’s already kissing the lower round of your stomach, trailing down to the curve of your mons, taking his sweet, sweet time. 

“Aizawa-” Your hands run through his hair and gently urge him back, but he just presses on, pulling your knee over his shoulder- “Your leg-”

He's not listening. He's too busy nudging your legs apart, bumping his shoulder into your knee until it gives to him. For the second time that night, Aizawa puts his mouth on you. This time, he inhales, embarrassingly deep. 

“Ah-” the sound escapes you involuntarily. “Don't-- don't smell me.” 

The hot press of tongue ignites something inside you, something innate. Your hips buck on their own, the ridge of his nose bumping against your still swollen clit. After earlier, your pussy is still puffy and well loved, and the pressure sends your spine straight. 

“I should have shaved-” you babble. His arm has looped around your supporting leg.  “I'm sorry, I should have-”

In the dark, every touch feels more. More powerful, more potent, more smoldering: his hand is drifting up, under your ass and in, in, in-

When his fingers join his tongue, spreading your cunt open wider from behind.

“God-” Your brain is soup, stewing in its own electric pleasure. You can feel the chill of his inhales again and it's all you can do to whine, to push away his forehead- “God, don't smell me-”

“Shut the fuck up.”  He rips his mouth away from you and you can feel his eyes staring up in the dark. “Just-- shut up and take it.”

Your jaw clamps shut. Aizawa’s back on you, huffing and sucking greedily. Every muscle in your body is perking and clenching, your knee wobbling. His hand digs into your ass, dragging you so firmly against him that his nose bridge digs into your skin. The way he kisses at you is overwhelming; it feels like he’s pulling pleasure out of you, dragging it out hand over hand like it's attached to a string-

You want to cry or plead or curse or something. but Aizawa’s stolen your words from you, so all you can do is silently whine. 

It's too much, it's not enough, it's-

His free hand is suddenly on your cunt, a finger pressing up and into you. The sensation shocks a gasp out of you. It's not a lot, but it's been so long since anything been inside you; the sensation only worsens your needs, tightens the want-

A second finger slides in. There's a stretch and you suddenly feel drunk, like the room has tilted on its axis. 

You're going to fuck this man. You have to fuck this man. You might go insane if you don't get that cock inside you.

When you cum, it flushes every inch of your skin with a lumbering heat, like he's raking you over coals. It's ugly and brutal, it almost brings you to your knees, but Shouta holds you steady. He doesn't miss a beat, still lapping at your folds like he needs you to live.  

It's horrendous. It's torturous. The air punches out of your body as he strokes your already overworked clit. Tension bunches in every muscle, pulling you over him, hunched and panting. Your fingers claw at his scalp, tug his hair, but Shouta doesn't stop.

“I came-” you protest, voice climbing higher than ever. “I came, I came-- aa--”

He pulls away to speak.

“I know.” His fingers curl and press into you again, right against a deep spot. “Do it again.”

And he's on you again.This time, he’s more forward, aggressive with how he licks and suckles. It's no longer hungry-- it's mean. It doesn't coax pleasure from you, it forces.  

“I can't,” you whine. Every flick of tongue shocks more pleasure from you, burning through your cunt deep into your gut. You're boneless, you're stiff, you're wobbling-

 “I can't, I can't-”

Aizawa rests his cheek against your thigh, his fingers working harder and harder. It’s much more intense in the dark, where the only thing you can focus on is the feeling and the sound of his fingers squelching into you.

“You can-” He insists into your skin. He kisses the crease of your leg.  “Let go.”

“I can't-”

Oh, a pressure is building inside you, one that's rolling and rabid. You think you might literally be drooling, but you can't tell anymore; all you can think about is his fingers drilling into your pussy, urging faster-

“I can't.” 

He's not telling you to shut up anymore. He just says, firmly: “You can.”

And you do. 

It's a lift, that moment where gravity forgets you when the roller coaster crests the hill. There's nothing, blissful nothing, a weightless second where you can finally pull in a full breath. Maybe this is it, maybe you’ll never fall-

Then, it crashes. 

You think you might have gone blind for a moment. Stars flicker over your vision and your brain just can't keep up. Earlier, he compared it to a computer resetting and you suddenly understand exactly what he meant like that: your body slumps over as if he's pulled your batteries out. Aizawa has to pull his hands from you and brace to stop the both of you from tumbling over. 

“Hey now,” he grunts. “Do not fall.”

“Shut--shut up,” you manage to say, still all twitches and kicks. There’s… you’re.. There’s a lot going on right now and you can’t pull your brain together enough to process any of it. For a blissfully long time, you just are: no thoughts, no doubts, no worries. 

When you finally catch yourself, Aizawa’s still down on his knees, patting your flank in silent support.

“Are you alright?” His cheeks are dreadfully wet with you, caught in his stubble 

“No,” you whine. “I think I died.”

He pats the side of your thigh again. “You're fine. Help me up.”

Oh, shit. His leg. You pull yourself together enough to stand on your own. Your thighs rub together with their own wet and you’re horrified at the amount of it all. It’s down to your fucking knees. God, you didn’t even think you could do that. Blindly, you reach into the dark and take Aizawa’s hand, hoisting him off of the floor.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“Peachy. I’m just old.” He pulls on your hand and brings you closer. When his lips find yours, your own taste shocks a gasp out of you. His face is as wet as your legs, stubble gritting against your chin. It’s surprisingly gentle and affectionate, as if he didn’t just change your fucking life with his tongue.

“I should get you a towel or something,” you say as you pull away.

Aizawa snorts, his grip on you only tightening. You try to imagine the look on his face. Maybe he’s licking the ridge of his teeth, maybe he’s glowering. Maybe he’s smiling, looking down at you with that almost loving affection.  “You don’t think we’re done, do you?” 

Uh oh.

Uh oh.

In the dark, he pushes you backward, both of you blindly bumping into walls and the edge of the tv stand.  Each bump and bruise steal a giggle out of you and him, but the laughter does nothing to diffuse the want you feel emanating from his touch. Eventually, the back of your legs hits the soft down of the bed and you pause, trying to hold him a bit farther away and failing. You had forgotten that he’s still fully dressed; his belt buckle is frigid against your skin.

“Shouta, my legs are shaking.” Your hands find the bottom of his shirt, fumbling with the edge. Maybe you can distract him, give yourself time to recover. “I can’t take anymore.”

Shouta is mirroring your motions, running his fingers across the soft of your stomach. The touch makes you feel shy and you wiggle away from the touch. Technically, he’s seen you completely naked, but touching feels like a deeper sense of knowledge, especially in the dark. 

“Two orgasms?” He squeezes your side again. “That’s really all it takes?” 

“Three…” you remind.

“Two.” He’s firm. “The second one doesn’t count.”

The air conditioning rushes back on and you nearly shiver. The heat of your orgasm still warms your cheeks, but you’re still naked, still exposed. “Why not?”

“Wasn’t big enough.”

“Felt big.”

He clicks his tongue against his teeth.  “You poor, neglected thing.” 

Hands find your shoulders and push, knocking you back on to the mattress with an ‘oof’. The bed shifts under his weight and you can feel him there, hovering over you in the dark, just a breath away. All you can do is lay there and try to make out the shapes of him. The red glow of the alarm clock catches his eye and you suddenly know he’s watching you, probably searching for your way in the same way.

“What-?”  you breathe. “What are you gonna do with me?”

You don’t know what you want the answer to be, but you aren’t expecting a chuckle. 

“I’m going to do-”  Shouta breathes, deep and dark and hungry, closer to a growl than a whisper. “Whatever I want.”

[shotofstress]

Same with imperialism. Everyday I see the gringos here scream about how trump is doing fascist shit (or nazi shit how gringos like to call it) and how that has "never happen before" but in fact is just your regular ass usa, they just don't know history nor care to learning it. Is typical usa stuff, and specially is typical usa international terrorist behaviour. USA has been worst that the nazis (which were inapired by USA culture, ideology, religion, and experiments, etc) and invaded most countries doing monstrous things (USA for example has invaded and make cops and put dictators in every single South American country, and no, wikipedia is wrong u little shit (surprise wikipedia lies with some touches of truth and more lies than truth when necessary of course, surprise to no one with real education and basic common sense), is not in some, has been in all multiple times. But explaining usa to usamericans makes them feel like u are being a conspiranoic communist, when in reality is just the truth, probably just the 10% at best of the whole modus operandi of usa bc no one can name the infinity crimes that usa has doe since its foundation.

Like ppl would call u liar if you tell them how usa trained cops and military in South America to stop any attempt to have democracy and socialism (and how CIA made the past opium usa crisis to have enough money to make operation Condor as part of the GLADIO operations here, same shit they are doing now again btw), making and keeping dictatorships for decades and never allow them to really end, not even when there is a "return to democracy". Part of that training is not just how to welcome the actual nazis and fascists, make genocides, create concentration camps and transform any building or space into a torture center, teach to who buy weapons (israeli and german weapons of course among many other helps of Europe), make companies to replace state functions, corrupt institutions, dismantle ministries and any government aspect, change and made new constitutions, make propaganda, false information, red scare, and other types of psychological warfare via owning the schools and create new educational systems, doing crimes and blaming some groups and well using old footage in the news to fabricate news in the necessary context, install neo nazi groups as well cults and cult schools against democracy (like neo pagan and new age groups, the jehova whitnesses, mormons, moonis, and other evangelical cults with the explicit propose of destroy cultures, political activism, and class consciousness, and fight against the only christians that have done something which are the one that do praxis under theology of liberation), introducs cocaine and that type of drugs, made it, create drug addiction in the marginal communities and poor areas and said it was "Russian cocaine", and create pedo rings and christian schools and chrurch communities as well the state organisms to have children and teens for that propose as well for drug and organ trafficking, and of course selling babies to the upper class ppl outside of the country that usa is attacking. USA even made deals and info trading with a arm dealer that also sold to Saddam Hussein and usa tried to arrest them only when the guy did something usa disnt want to which was maybe eventualy sold weapons to Cuba that would help them to stop USA.

There are stuff like that, but also more simple and immediate stuff, for example burn nuldings and books, destruction of art and control of what forms of culture enter the country, throw people into the sea or disert to make them dissapear, make amputations, more recently take eyeballs, raping people with dogs among other forms of sexual tortures like forcing parents to rape their children. Women were the primary targets of these gruesome acts of sexual abuse. At least in my country (and i guess that every country attacked by USA and under its training) almost every single female prisoner fell victim to repeated rape. Military personnel not only raped women but also employed foreign objects and even animals to inflict additional pain and suffering. Women, and occasionally men, reported incidents where spiders and live rats were implanted, put inside to be more clear, their genitals.

Yeah, classic usa.

Some pics bc I know usamericans and ppl in general are to trapped in their bubbles:

“Parrilla” or metal cot where detainees were tied up and tortured with electricity. Tongs were placed on various parts of the body, including the genitals, in the case of women it was put inside the vagina. Current was also put in mouth and ears.

Corpse in the streets in broad daylight of political enemy (which could be anyone, including old ppl and kids).

At that moment I didn't know where I was. They took us in refrigerator trucks, tied, bandaged, with hoods. They made us lower steps and, they left me in a cell. The interrogations started very early ... they hit me and applied all the forms of torment: blows, electric current, wax burns, cigarettes; In one arm I still have the brands. I told them that I was pregnant, but they really didn't care, on the contrary. They hit me with a whip in the low belly, to lose my baby. On the third or fourth day, they began to rape me ... several times they raped me and applied current on the electric grill ...

- Testimony of a political prisoner of the concentration camp "Tejas Verdes".

Some pics of other USA crimes:

Argentinian dictator Videla with Jimmy Carter who was as anti communist and anti democracy as any other USA dictator (to whom u usually call presidents)

M41 tank and two jeeps of the Brazilian Army in the Ministries Esplanade, near the National Congress Palace (background) in Brasília, 1964. The 1964 Brazilian coup d'état (Portuguese: Golpe de estado no Brasil em 1964) was the overthrow of Brazilian president João Goulart by a military coup made for the necessities of USA and capitalism from March 31 to April 1, 1964. US foreign aid to Brazil reached new heights. From 1964 to 1970, Brazil received more money than any other country in South America from institutions such as USAID and the World Bank. American businesses also increased their investments in Brazil.

A map of "Greater America" c. 1900.

Stuart Creighton Miller says that the public's sense of innocence about Realpolitik impairs popular recognition of U.S. imperial conduct. The ""resistance"" to actively occupying foreign territory (which they do anyways when necessary, like Palestine and Africa, for example) has led to policies of exerting influence via other means, including governing other countries via surrogates or puppet regimes, where domestically unpopular governments survive only through U.S. support.

The Philippines is sometimes cited as an example. After Philippine independence, the US continued to direct the country through Central Intelligence Agency operatives like Edward Lansdale. As Raymond Bonner and other historians note, Lansdale controlled the career of President Ramon Magsaysay, going so far as to physically beat him when the Philippine leader attempted to reject a speech the CIA had written for him. American agents also drugged sitting President Elpidio Quirino and prepared to assassinate Senator Claro Recto. Prominent Filipino historian Roland G. Simbulan has called the CIA "US imperialism's clandestine apparatus in the Philippines". The U.S. retained dozens of military bases, including a few major ones. In addition, Philippine independence was qualified by legislation passed by the U.S. Congress. For example, the Bell Trade Act provided a mechanism whereby U.S. import quotas might be established on Philippine articles which "are coming, or are likely to come, into substantial competition with like articles the product of the United States". It further required U.S. citizens and corporations be granted equal access to Philippine minerals, forests, and other natural resources.

USAmerican troops marching in Vladivostok during the "Allied intervention" in the Russian Revolution, August 1918. When World War I broke out in Europe, USA head of regime Woodrow Wilson entered the war in order to "open international markets to surplus US production". He quotes Wilson's own declaration that

Concessions obtained by financiers must be safeguarded by ministers of state, even if the sovereignty of unwilling nations be outraged in the process... the doors of the nations which are closed must be battered down.

In a memo to Secretary of State Bryan, the president described his aim as "an open door to the world". Lloyd Gardner notes that Wilson's original avoidance of world war was not motivated by anti-imperialism; his fear was that "white civilization and its domination in the world" were threatened by Europe, the other "great white nations" by fighting between whites and allowing that the oppressed countries and cultures gained power.

1st pic is the Excavation of the corpses of victims in Comalapa, Chimaltenango.

Since the Guatemalan Revolution, Guatemala saw the expansion of labour rights and land reforms which granted property to landless peasants. With the operations of the United Fruit Company as a direct hand of USA, whose profits were affected by these policies, as well as fear of Communist influence in Guatemala culminated in the USA supporting Operation PBFortune to overthrow Guatemalan President Jacobo Árbenz in 1952. The plan involved providing weapons to the exiled Guatemalan military officer Carlos Castillo Armas, who was to lead an invasion from Nicaragua. This culminated in the 1954 Guatemalan coup d'état. The subsequent military junta assumed dictatorial powers, banned opposition parties and reversed the social reforms of the revolution. The USA would continue to support Guatemala through the Cold War, including during the Guatemalan Genocide in which hundreds here tortured and killed and the genocide against maya people, probably more than 200,000 mayas were killed. I saw some days ago a guatemalteco informed in a post of how this was with the help of Israel. Please if someone can elaborate on that. After the coup, American enterprises saw a return of influence in the country, in both the public level of government but also in the economy.

Please feel free to add USA crimes in your country.

[lnfours]

focal point ☆ chapter 5 | l.n

summary: oh damn, never seen that color blue…

warnings: art student!reader, best friend/college student!oscar, college student!lando, slight enemies to lovers!au, slight grumpy x sunshine, some more filler (IM SORRY ITS FOR THE PLOT!!!!!), fluff (EEKK!!!!), subtle foreshadowing, unedited as fuck, and hints at a strained family relationship (trauma!!)

message from jordan: hi everyone! long time no see, huh? 😅 i'm so sorry for being mia and for not updating this series in so long, i decided to take a small break from almost all socials. but don't worry, we're back and better than ever <3 as always, thank you for being so patient with me. i hope this chapter is worth the wait!! see you soon, for real this time :) - p.s i hope you enjoy that taylor swift reference in the summary, cause, iykyk 🙂‍↕️

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“hellloooo earth to oscar!”

it was no use. this was the third time he had unintentionally interrupted your conversation to respond to a text. all while doing so with a giddy smile, one you had never seen light up his face quite like this one did.

you had come over right after class, the two of you agreeing to hang out and catch up. it had been a while since it had just been the two of you hanging out, the inevitable busy schedules really hitting hard during your last semester. you missed your best friend.

missed meaning past tense. because although he was your best friend, right now, you wanted to snap his neck.

"oscar jack piastri!"

"oh- sorry," he mumbled the same apology for the third time this afternoon, "sorry, i was just texting someone. it's nothing, what were we talking about?"

you gave him a blank stare, "were you texting your secret girlfriend?"

you noticed the way his eyes widened a little upon mentioning the word ‘girlfriend’, "okay, one, she's not my girlfriend. and two, no. i was texting max."

and for the four years you've known oscar piastri, you could always tell when he was lying. and this time, he was lying right to your face.

you decided to play along with his game, letting him think he won this time. so you hummed, nodding your head, "okay, fine, if you say so."

"i'm sorry," he apologized again, locking his phone and placing it face down on the kitchen counter, "you have my full attention now, promise. what were you saying?"

"i was telling you about last week."

"right, with lando and the diner thing, right?" he asked and you hummed, taking a piece of popcorn from the bowl in between the two of you, "wait a minute, how'd you go from hating his guts and it being unbearable to be within 5 feet of him to 'oh my god he took me to breakfast'?"

"you know that party lily practically dragged me to?" when he nodded you spoke again, "apparently i really suck at beer pong and he helped me back to the apartment and helped lily take care of me. it was really sweet, actually."

he smiled softly before letting out a quiet snort, "sorry, just never thought i'd hear you say the words 'lando' and 'sweet' in the same sentence."

"i'm serious!" you sighed, pouting ever so slightly.

"no, i know!" he laughed softly, "it's just... you're just now finding out what i've been trying to tell you for the longest time? that he's actually a really good dude?"

you bit down on your lower lip softly, "i didn't really give him a chance, huh?"

"not really, no," he chuckled softly, "but it's okay. he didn't exactly help out his own case either, in all honesty."

you nodded in agreement, the front door to the apartment creaking open. you both turned to see lando kicking off his shoes, placing his keys on the hook by the door.

he smiled at you and oscar, "hey,"

"hey," oscar smiled, answering for you as well as you took in his appearance. messy curls, tight black t-shirt, grey sweatpants, duffel bag on his shoulder and a soft glow on his skin, you could tell he had just gotten back from the gym.

arms. biceps. veins. god, you should probably speak before you embarrass yourself...

it was too late though, he had already seen the way your eyes traveled over his body. he decided to put the mental note in the back of his mind for now, instead checking the watch on his wrist.

"oh shit, i didn't mean to keep you waiting, y/n."

you tapped your phone screen, looking at the time. it was 4:35, just five minutes passed when you said you'd meet up. it really wasn't a big deal. you didn't even know it had gotten that late already.

"no, no, it's fine. didn't even notice, if i'm honest," you smiled and he sent you a smile back. oscar watched the two of you like a tennis match, cheekily grinning at the counter.

"i have some of those papers you had me work on the other day, they're in my room if you wanna..."

"oh- yeah! yeah, sure," you smiled, grabbing your things as oscar silently laughed at the way you acted around his roommate. how you were unintentionally tripping and stumbling over your own feet and your words, how lovestruck you became.

you followed lando to his room, placing your things down and taking a seat on the edge of his bed as he looked through his closet for a change of clothes, "i'm just gonna shower real quick, make yourself at home, though."

you smiled, nodding his way as he closed the door behind him. after all this time, you had never thought you'd see the other side of this door. his room was slightly messy, due to his busy schedule and his active lifestyle. posters of cars and, seemingly, his favorite video games hanging on the walls. the bookshelf that sat in the corner of the room was littered with different textbooks at the bottom and little die cast models of his favorite cars, along with a few formula one cars that you had recognized. the top shelf stood out the most to you, though.

a picture frame of him and who you had assumed to be his family. a family photo taken during christmas, all of them dressed in matching pajamas. a big happy family.

the photo, for whatever reason, brought tears to your eyes. a smile on your face as you sniffled quietly, putting the photo frame back down on it's designated shelf.

the door opened, causing you to turn around as he closed the door behind him, "sorry, i figured you'd prefer if i didn't smell like a guy's locker-room."

you laughed softly, wiping away the small tear that came from your eye, "god, yeah,"

"hey," he said, sitting down on the bed beside you, immediately disregarding the notebook he was grabbing beforehand, "what's wrong? you okay?"

you nodded, waving a hand dismissively, "yeah, yeah, i'm fine. i just- for whatever reason, when i looked at that picture of you and your family it just uhm..."

he patiently waited for you to finish your sentence, "it just brought back some feelings that i wish it hadn't, that's all."

"fuck, i'm so sorry," he said.

"no, no," you shook your head, "you don't have to apologize, if anything i should be the one who's apologizing."

"you don't have to apologize for having emotions."

you smiled softly, feeling another tear fall from the corner of your eye. this time, he gently brought his hand up to your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he wiped it away.

the action made you breathless, as if the way he was looking into your eyes hadn't already. a mysterious color you couldn't quite put your finger on. it was a mix between blue, green and grey.

whatever it was, it was gorgeous and captivating at the same time.

you cleared your throat, the two of you moving away from the gap that had slowly been closing. your fingers untwisting themselves from his, you growing flushed at the fact that you had, at some point, interlocked your fingers with his unknowingly.

"sorry," you mumbled softly.

"'m sorry," he said at the same time. you both shared a soft and awkward chuckle before he grabbed his notebook from behind him.

"so, i had a few questions about chapter 15."

"go on," you said, studying his side profile as he explained the areas he was having trouble with. pretty tanned skin littered with freckles and moles, curls that perfectly kissed the skin on the back of his neck and his forehead.

the sentence lily had said to you last week repeating itself into your brain:

“...and it’s not like i don’t see the way he looks at you. he definitely is feeling something he doesn’t want to show just yet,”

oh, fuck.

[gf2bellamy]

Hello !!

I really enjoy your writing and thought that I’d submit a request for a Spencer Reid x Reader fic :)

Essentially, Spencer and Reader just recently moved in together and are getting ready to go on a date. Reader is putting on makeup around the time Spencer finishes getting ready, and Spencer just takes a moment to admire her and says some sort of sweet comment?

(Sorry if that isn’t broad enough)

Thanks! 🫶🏻

- B

admiration — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: nothing i think ? a/n: thank you so much for your request B !! <3333 i love it such an adorable idea ! i hope you like this

You stood in front of the bathroom mirror, rummaging through your makeup bag. Your brows furrowed in concentration as you dug past mascara tubes, eyeliner pencils, and a stray hair tie. 

“Where is it?” you mumbled to yourself, frustration creeping into your voice. 

Finally, your fingers brushed against the smooth tube of your favorite lip gloss. Triumphantly, you pulled it out, unscrewed the cap, and paused for just a second to look at yourself in the mirror. A small, excited smile tugged at your lips. 

Tonight was another date night with Spencer—one of many you’d shared—but the excitement never faded. Even now, standing in the bathroom of your shared apartment, it still felt just as thrilling as the very first time.

Spencer always had a way of making things special, whether it was a night out at a fancy restaurant or an evening spent curled up on the couch with a stack of books and takeout. 

You leaned in slightly, applying the gloss with careful precision. Just as you capped the tube, you heard Spencer’s voice outside the door. 

“Hey, I’m ready,” he called, followed by a soft knock. 

A small smile played on your lips as you glanced toward the door. “You can come in.” 

Spencer slowly opened the door just as you finished applying your lip gloss, the soft click of the handle barely registering as you focused on your reflection. But when the silence stretched longer than expected, curiosity got the best of you. 

You turned to find him standing in the doorway, staring. 

His lips were slightly parted, eyes wide with something that looked a lot like awe. He wasn’t even trying to hide it—his gaze traced over you with the kind of admiration that sent warmth blooming in your chest. 

You tilted your head slightly, a small, amused smile forming on your lips. “Spencer?” 

Spencer blinked, seemingly snapping out of whatever daze he had fallen into. “You—uhm. Wow.” His voice wavered slightly, his brain clearly scrambling to form a coherent sentence. 

You bit back a smile, amused by his flustered state. He always did this—always got a little tongue-tied when you dressed up, like he was seeing you for the first time all over again. 

“Well, thank you, Dr. Reid,” you teased, stepping forward until you were close enough to catch the faint scent of his cologne. Your hands moved to his tie, adjusting it with practiced ease. “And you look very handsome yourself.” 

He smiled shyly at your compliment and then his voice softened. “You know…I’ve read about beauty before. Poets, philosophers, even mathematicians have tried to define it, to measure it, to explain what makes something—or someone—beautiful.” 

Your hands paused on his tie as your breath caught slightly. 

His gaze never wavered as he continued. “But I don’t think words could ever really capture what I feel when I look at you.” 

Your heart practically stopped. The sincerity in his voice made your chest ache in the best way. 

For a moment, you just stared at him, your fingers still lightly resting against his tie. 

Then, a small, breathy laugh escaped you as you shook your head. “You always know exactly what to say, don’t you?” 

Spencer smiled sheepishly. “Not always. Just when it comes to you.” 

You exhaled, feeling warmth spread through your entire body. 

“Well,” you murmured, smoothing your hands down the lapels of his suit, “you’re pretty impossible not to love, you know that?” 

Spencer’s expression shifted—his eyes softened. But instead of responding right away, he did something else. 

He leaned in, pressing a feather-light kiss to your forehead, lingering just long enough to make your heart swell. 

“I love you too,” he whispered against your skin. 

[comfxrtablykai]

hey kai!

can you please write a fanfic about dae ho comforting us after a game. (with a one bed trope 👉👈)

btw love ur writing smm!!🎀

EEEE I LOVE THIS REQUEST!!! dae ho is my shayla😭 (TW: Blood, gunshots, talk of death. let me know if there's more i should've added!) This is also for my favourite kang dae-ho stan @lanadelreyworshipperr

Kang Dae-Ho x reader ────୨ৎ──── The gunshots rang from the distance as you covered your ears, your palms pressed tightly against the shell, till all you could hear was a faint ringing. You whimpered quietly as you look at the blood pooled on the floor. How quickly had they cleaned up the bodies? The smell of blood made you gag as you choked out desperate sobs. "I wanna go home..." Your teammates Gi-Hun and Dae-Ho picked you up from the floor as you took in shallow breaths. You couldn't hear anything, not their words, not the other players talking and rushing out to go back to the bunks. No. The only thing you could still hear were bodies thudding the floor and the harsh sounds of the bullets leaving their guns to pierce through the heads of the innocent people. You couldn't breathe. Everything looked blurry for some reason, getting darker and faded. If you hadn't died from losing the game, you'd surely die from this panic attack. You saw Gi-Hun run to go to Jung-Bae and Young-Il, but Dae-Ho stayed with you. You sniffled and tried to recognise the world around you, trying to ground yourself in this terrifying situation but nothing worked. It wasn't until a certain former marine picked you up from the ground, hugging you close and carrying you bridal style back to the beds through the obnoxious amount of stairs. You curled against his chest and sniffled, hearing his heartbeat and coming back to reality just enough to croak out his name to tell him you were fine and awake, "Dae-Ho..." You moved you hand to your face, wiping the remaining tears. Dae-Ho looked at you with kindness shining in his eyes. A kindness people here seemed to have forgotten, "Ah, you're coming back to us. I know it's scary but I'll protect you, ok?" His voice was so soft as he put you down to your bunk. You hadn't even realised you both had reached the bedroom already. You hand was still grasping at the sleeve of his jumpsuit like your life depended on it, and quite frankly, you felt like it did depend on it. You felt yourself slip away when he started to go back. Nobody was really paying and attention at you both and thanks to Gi-Hun, your mattresses were in a perfectly hidden spot. "Dae-Ho, stay with me?" You asked, feeling tears prickle your eyes again, you weren't sleeping yet you could feel the nightmare that would haunt you for multiple nights on end. You also felt pathetic. Everyone here was so strong, even Jun-Hee who was pregnant and here you were. You couldn't go a single game without crying. Dae-Ho's eyes softened and you could swear you saw a fondness in his eyes. Though he quickly hid it. "Of course I will. I promise that no matter what happens in these games, I'll never leave you." He said it with such surety that you two would stick together, it couldn't help but make you optimistic as well. Dae-Ho settled on your mattress besides you and took this opportunity to curl up into him even more, "I feel so dumb." His hands found their way into your hair and gently massaged your scalp. "You're not dumb. Panicking in a scene like this is... normal. I'd be surprised if you weren't. I know I am as well." He joked and you couldn't help but smile as you buried your head in his chest. "It doesn't look like it. You're so brave." You muttered and looked up at Dae-Ho's face, it was rigid for a second before turning back to the soft, smiling face she liked. "Yeah, well, you're my sunshine and you're crying. That doesn't seem right either, does it?" Dae-Ho wiped another tear that had fallen from your eyes and gently pressed his lips against your forehead. You close your eyes, feeling the exhaustion from the day finally bring you down. You fought against your sleep and also blushed at the kiss he had just given you. "Dae-Ho..." "Go to sleep, sunshine." He said and cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing against the soft round skin of your face. You gulped in fear and held him closer. "Only if you stay..." You said and pressed your forehead against Dae-Ho's, breathing in and out, slowly, following the pattern of his breathing.

He smirked and leaned closer, the tip of his nose brushing against the tip of yours, "I'll always stay." He whispered to you like a promise and before you knew, you were drifting to sleep in his arms. ────୨ৎ────

[happilivedelicativecollective86]

Before I answer you I'm just going define some things.

An insurrection is a violent uprising against an authority, in legal contexts, often the authority is specifically a government.

A coup is an illegal seizure of power from a government.

January 6th was by definition an insurrection, as it was a violent uprising against the US federal government.

January 6th was NOT a coup, as power was not successfully illegally seized from the government, making it an attempted/failed coup instead.

"how does a person standing on a sidewalk outside the Capitol Campus, who never went onto the Campus at all, no violence, was just there and left count as a coup?"

Some of the people arrested for January 6th being almost entirely innocent does not clear the rest of them of their actual misdeeds.

"How does that person deserve to be jailed without trial or bail for more than 4 years?"

Again, some of the people arrested for January 6th being almost entirely innocent AND being mistreated the justice system does not clear the rest of them of their actual misdeeds.

"Why did the January 6th Committee destroy thousands of hours of recordings if there was a coup?"

There's no evidence that the January 6th committee deliberately or accidentally destroyed thousands of hours of recordings.

"If it was a coup why were they unarmed?"

First off, some were armed, second off, one does not need to be armed to preform an insurrection or instigate a failed coup, as being armed is not a requirement for either of them.

"If it was a coup why did the Capitol Police open the barricades and wave people in?"

Rioters had already broken in and opened several doors, and in RESPONSE the capitol police opened doors/barricades to prevent stampedes, as since there was nothing they could due to eject all the rioters at that point, increasing throughput to prevent a stampede was the next best thing.

"Do you think that they were in on it?"

No.

"If the Capitol Campus was already evacuated on Nancy Pelosi's orders because of the fear of pipe bombs how could anyone be charged with "disrupting a Legislative session" when they had already suspended the session and evacuated?"

First off only certain buildings in the capitol complex were evacuated because of fears of pipe bombs, second off disrupting a legislative session absolutely applies here, as Congress was in session with Pence attempting to certify the election, and was forced to go into recess after the capitol was confirmed to have been breached.

I highly encourage you to read the entirety of the "Timeline of the January 6 United States Capitol attack" article on Wikipedia, as it's the most complete public record of the event available and really helps put into perspective how chaotic the entire thing was.

"When 6 states violated their own laws and federal laws by changing how voting is done and violated their own and federal laws by counting ballots without observers present how is it a coup to ask for an audit of those states?"

Requesting audits into election results is not illegal, rioting and storming the capitol in an attempt to prevent the vice president from certifying an election is, and if everyone has just preformed the former then no one ould have gone to jail, plus much of what you just said is either partially or completely false, as verifiable evidence proving third parties were not present during the counting of ballots is basically non-existent.

It's an open notes test and some dense motherfuckers still can't figure out the answers.

[snowluvvie]

₊˚⊹ ♡ . EASILY CONVINCED.

₊˚⊹ ♡ . RED K!CLARK X READER

₊˚⊹ ♡ . you want to leave him, but there's one thing keeping you there

₊˚⊹ ♡ . MDNI 18+ | word count — 2.8k | warnings — established toxic relationship, Clark does not care about your feelings at any point at all, manipulation, crying, oral (m. recieving), finger sucking, unprotected p in v, name-calling, hair-pulling

When Clark strolled into your shared Metropolis apartment, it was already after dark. The moonlight streaming in through the window glinted off the smooth marble countertop and illuminated you, already waiting in the shared kitchen for him to arrive home. Your arms were folded over your chest, eyebrows furrowed lightly. You were finally going to have the conversation you’d been needing to have with him for the past few months.

You thought if you came to Metropolis with him, stayed by his side rather than letting him run off on his own, things would get better. That isolation wouldn’t be good for him, and your presence would sway him to take off the ring and return to Smallville. It hadn’t. Sometimes it seemed like it worsened with the passing days—the going out and staying out for hours, sometimes overnight, being mouthy and rude, or just downright insulting. And you saw the way he looked at women passing on the street sometimes. It felt like being stabbed, though you’d given up on reprimanding him a while back. Now, though?

You’d come to the long overdue conclusion that this simply wasn’t the same Clark anymore, wasn’t your Clark. He wasn’t the guy that insisted on fixing your car when it made him late for school that day, or the guy that practically ran to your parents’ house to fix their fence when it broke, or the guy that kissed you like your face was something precious between his hands and fucked you like you actually meant something to him.

As Clark closed the front door behind him, your eyes caught on the obnoxiously large crimson ring still nestled on his giant hand. That old Clark was gone. Maybe one day he’d come back on his own, but for now? You wanted to go home. You wanted your life back.

You cleared your throat, and Clark raised his eyebrows as he regarded you standing there, waiting for him. “It’s late.”

He gives a halfway nod, lips quirking up into a smile, “It gets busier the later it gets. I should’ve stayed, really.”

By it he means that stupid club on the corner downtown. All pulsing blue lights and girls in the tiniest skirts you’ve ever seen. You’ve always tried to push its very existence out of your brain, and an involuntary shiver wracks your arms as you’re afflicted by thoughts of what he gets up to there.

“Well, I ate already.” Your arms tightened around you, silently cursing yourself for always fumbling when it came to things like this.

Clark hums in response, barely paying attention as he tugs his jacket off and tosses it onto the back of the chair. His keys clatter against the counter with a metallic clang, and he’s visibly already thinking about something else entirely.

You take a deep breath, “I wanna talk to you.”

“Y'are talking to me. Right now.” He flashes his pearly teeth, the little points peeking over his perfect bottom lip.

You shake your head, your eyes flicking away from him and instead focusing on the wall, or maybe the fridge. That was always how he got you—it was the same smile, the same twinkle in those blue eyes. It took all your willpower to stay grounded and remind yourself that no matter how bad you wished he was, he wasn’t your Clark. Your resolve trembled every time you looked at him.

“No, I mean talk to you about us.”

He rolls his eyes, “Not this again.” There he was. Dismissive and careless, which was all he’d been the last few months when he wasn’t just being blatantly mean.

“Listen! Yes, this again, you never let me finish!”

“I let you finish plenty. Wasn’t it…three times, last weekend?” He wanders over to the fridge, tugging the door open placidly. He looks over to you for a few moments, only long enough to see the way your jaw tightens as your face warms despite yourself.

“That’s not—I was trying to—” You huff, throwing your hands half-heartedly in the air as you struggle to articulate yourself. Like you always did, which Clark knew. “You know what I meant.”

Just as the last word left your lips, he slammed the fridge door. So hard the wall behind it rattled. "Can't this wait til' after I get somethin' to eat? 'M starved after tonight." He huffed out a laugh cause he knew what he was doing, leaving your imagination to run wild about what he'd got up to.

Though your bottom lip quivered a little bit, you shook your head. "No, you're a selfish dick. If I waited for you to want to talk to me, I'd be waiting forever."

Clark was across the kitchen and in your personal space in less than half a second, making you gasp. You tried to back up as he towered over you, but you bumped into the corner—he had you caged up against it. You avoided his eyes, though you couldn't escape his smell with how close he was. Delicious despite his bad behavior—oak barrels and gentle shampoo and sunlight. Your head swam as you took it in, you couldn't fight it when he grabbed your face, forcing it upwards. He craned your neck back to look at him, and his gaze was amused, lips tilted slightly upwards.

"My dick is a lot of things. Selfish is not one. You'd know, huh? There's only one greedy bitch here."

You were shaking like a leaf, and the squeak you let out was pathetic. "You know how I feel about the b-word."

Clark laughed loudly. "How you feel, and how you feel," his tone of voice lilted suggestively as his hand dipped down to the front of your shorts. "Are two very different things."

He paused for a half second, so you'd have time to say no, but it was mocking—he knew you wouldn't stop him. That made the seconds that stretched between you taunting, a total mockery of what you'd been trying to do, the corpse of your dead resolve practically half-buried already as you stood with baited breath, waiting for him to slip his hand where you wanted it.

As his hand went between your thighs, he grinned. “You’re real predictable, y’know that?” His fingers slid through your folds easily from how drenched they were. When he pulled his fingers from your panties, a glistening strand of your arousal clung onto them, and he shoved it in your face. Raising his eyebrows, “and you keep trying to act like you want me to be different. Liar.”

Your lip quivered from the misconstrued truth in his words, the way he could always use that against you. It wasn’t your fucking fault your boyfriend’s voice got you all hot, he was literally the most perfect man in the world, even when he was like this—that didn’t mean you wanted him to stay this way. The late-night whispers between the two of you as you laid on his barn couch back in Smallville, about a house and a family, were more important to you than the sex you seemingly couldn’t stop having. But why couldn’t you stop having it?

Clark shoved his fingers in your mouth, making you clean your own wetness off of them, and he intentionally shoved them back far enough to make you gag lightly. You hated the disappointment that bloomed in your belly when you realized he wasn’t going to relieve you further with his hand, he was just making a point. Your eyes burned.

"You owe me! I was ready to have a perfectly nice night an' settle in—you're the one who had to start somethin'." He rolled his eyes. "You're always doing this, y'know. Not very fair to me, is it?"

Your eyes watered and, though you were fighting furiously to keep it in, a little sniffle escaped you. The sound made Clark's eyes snap to you, just in time to watch the first tear slip down your cheek. The grin that spread across his face was sickening.

"C'mon. On your knees."

You hesitated for a moment, just long enough to make him punctate it with, "now."

The last of your resolve was officially gone and buried as you sunk to your knees, which met the cold tile underneath you, and looked up at him. Clark raised his eyebrows, prompting you with a nod, and your fingers found his belt and began undoing it. You fumbled with it a little, hands shaky through your crying.

When you raised a hand to wipe the tears from your face, Clark swatted it away. “Makes it extra wet, y’know that.” He reasoned with a charming smile.

You ignored him and finally got his belt undone, and his cock sprung out of the confines of his boxers already stiff. That only rubbed it in more—every insult and mockery he threw your way only made him harder, and your tears were just the nail in the coffin.

No matter how upset you were, it was muscle memory to take him as far back into your throat as you could, though you struggled. You gagged around it, saliva bubbling from the corners of your mouth. He was right, and the longer you went, your tears from both Clark’s mocking and how harshly you were gagging mixed with your spit and left his cock slick, your mouth sliding around it too easily. Your hand wrapped around the base so you could cover more of it, and his head fell back a little as you twisted your fist around his shaft at the same time your tongue swirled over his tip. The sigh he let out was contented, and he ran his fingers through your hair at the nape of your neck.

For a half second, you pretended it was Clark—your Clark. The guy who had held your hair back for you and rubbed your scalp soothingly when you had his dick in your mouth, doing his best to reward you for every good feeling you ‘gifted’ him, which was how he saw it.

The illusion was shattered when the fingers in your hair tightened sharply, making you yelp at the sudden pain. Clark groaned as your pained sounds vibrated around his cock, and he held your head in place as he started sliding in and out quicker, fucking your face at a more demanding pace than you’d been able to handle yourself. You gagged every time his tip hit the back of your throat, and Clark was letting the grunts and moans fall from his lips freely as you gagged, whined, and swallowed desperately around him.

“I like your mouth so much better when I do this. Not all that other shit.” He groaned. “Ah, fuck, ‘m gonna—”

Before he could finish his sentence, or cum down your throat, Clark was yanking you off of him by your hair. You let out a surprised yelp, but he was already snatching you up and tossing you over his shoulder like you were weightless. His shiny, throbbing cock still hung out of his blue jeans as he carried you to the back of the apartment and to your shared bedroom. He bumped your head on the doorframe as he brought you inside and ignored the noise you made, before tossing you down on the bed.

You sat there numbly, defeated, face streaked with tears and drool and precum, as Clark shrugged off his clothes and bared his inhumanly defined body to you. The moonlight coming in through the massive bedroom window—which wasn’t covered by the curtains, so you were sure some news helicopter would get a real eyeful of the habit Clark had developed to avoid a break-up—hit his chest in a way that made his tanned skin glow. Your mouth watered a little at the sight of him, something you’d truly never get used to, as if you needed more spit on your fucking face.

Clark wordlessly snapped his fingers at you as he knelt on the bed, and you moved obediently to hook your fingers in the waistband of your shorts and tug them and your panties down in one motion. Clark finished the job when he got impatient and made quick work of your thin sleep shirt, leaving it in two pieces by the foot of the bed.

He moved you like a doll, on all fours in front of him, fingers digging into your skin as he positioned you the way he wanted. The scream you let out when he sheathed inside you in one smooth motion—too big to fully bottom out, instead abusing your cervix immediately and giving you zero time to adjust—was muffled by his giant hand shoving your face into his pillow. That scent invaded your nose again, familiar and musky and clean, and you focused on it to distract yourself from the sting, gritting your teeth as you waited to adjust. Whines and yelps fell from your lips and were swallowed by the plush cotton, Clark still palming the back of your head to keep it there.

His pace was selfish and unforgiving, and though he was sliding in and out of you with no rhythm and no regard for how you felt, that didn’t stop the way your body began going limp, your pained squeaks turning into desperate moans and whimpers. “Nghh—ah, ah,” and you were sure Clark could hear it, no matter how drowned out it was by the wet, explicit skin-on-skin noises that filled the room.

He let your face up for a minute, and you gasped for breath.

“Feelin’ better now that you’re all full? Y’know—you’re always goin’ on and on—y’say you’re ‘not happy’” he did a high-pitched voice, mocking you, and you keened in response as he kept pumping inside of you, “I think what you mean to say is empty. Cause you’re all smiles when you're like this—real happy, right?”

Your only response was a low whine, and he smacked your ass hard. You jolted and yelped from the pain, but couldn’t move away from the second loud slap he landed against your cheek. He was holding you too tightly in place.

“Answer me.” Clark prompted, though his amused tone concealed an underlying threat as his hand still hovered over the globe of your ass, which was already blooming with red.

“Nngh—yes.” You cried out, but he clucked his tongue at you, ramming into you particularly hard to punctuate it. Your eyes rolled back.

“Yes what?”

“H-happy—‘m happy, thank you.” Fresh tears rolled down your cheeks from the way he was punishing your cunt.

You could hear the smile in his voice when he said, “there ya go!” Though, of course, nothing nice. He never fucking said anything nice. Said you hadn’t earned it, no matter what you did.

“Aah, shit—” His hips stuttered a little bit, and he let out a breath through gritted teeth. You clenched around him harshly and he groaned in response, your own release was creeping up on you.

“I dunno if you—argh—deserve my cum. Not today. Y’just cause problems.”

The pleading whine you let out was high-pitched and pathetic, the pillow wet with your still-flowing tears and the idea of him pulling out right now was torturous to you. He could’ve threatened to kill you and it would’ve been a less horrific idea.

“Please… please, Clark, please.” You babbled like a broken record, borderline incoherent through the snot and tears and broken moans. He was drilling your pussy, which was still squeezing him like a vice, and he laughed at your begging.

“One day I’ll stop bein' so nice, y’know?” Was the last thing Clark said before he came inside of you with a low, delicious groan, hips slamming into yours harshly as he fucked you through his orgasm. Your whole body shook with the force of it, limp and spasming, though he held you up easily. Your own release washed over you, and you finally let out a desperate, ecstatic cry as you were rewarded with the white-hot pleasure. The two of you were one, actually together for a few moments as you both reveled in the pleasure, something you didn't get from him anymore. Something you desperately missed, and your face screwed up at the familiar feeling.

It was over as quickly as it happened.

After Clark pulled out, he had the decency to arrange your limbs into some semblance of a laying position for you, since you were far too gone to do it. Your whole body felt like syrup. He laid your head on your own pillow, which made you miss the familiar smell of his, and tugged the covers over you. You didn't think you could speak if you wanted to, or remember your own name—or think of anything but him.

Clark rolled back over, a satisfied smirk playing at the corners of his lips. He was perfectly composed, though your chest still heaved as you tried to catch your breath. Shakily, you took a few slow, deep ones. There was a fuzzy warmth tugging at the edges of your brain and your chest. Like there always was after he was done with you.

“I love you.” You mumbled as your eyes drifted shut.

Clark’s answer was matter-of-fact, so close to being neutral if it wasn’t for the smugness that crept in.

“I know.”

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Cater Diamond - Room Relaxation Voice Lines

#MyLoungewear #BirthdayEve #CheckOutMyHairband ...Posted!

Summon: 'Kay then, tomorrow's ol' Cay-kun's birthday... I gotta get hyped to receive all those well wishes!

Groovification: The birthday video came out great... No doubt about it, this'll definitely go viral ♪

Home: This is Cay-kun's favorite ♪

Swap Looks: Yaaaaawn... Guess I'll go wash my face.

Home Transition 1: I'm usually just on my phone whenever I'm in my room～ ...Huh, studying? Don't pick on me by asking that～

Home Transition 2: Azul-kun treated me to a real fancy-looking drink ♪ He said my promoting it on Magicam would be payment enough.

Home Transition 3: A limited cosmetics set, huh～ Even the package itself is super duper cute! Maybe I'll buy it as a birthday gift to myself.

Home Transition - Login: The number of likes and comments I get on my Magicam posts on my birthday is through the roof! It makes me happy, sure, but it's a little difficult to reply to them all～

Home Transition - Groovy: Never thought I'd ever have Leona-kun wishing me a happy birthday... Wish I woulda snagged a video of it happening.

Home Tap 1: Don'tcha think this loungewear is soft and adorable? Both the top and bottoms are part of the same outfit series.

Home Tap 2: All I did was change up my eyeliner a little bit, but Rook-kun picked up on it right away... He's kinda scarily observant.

Home Tap 3: My hair's looks all silky smooth? Right? Isn't it? I tried out this hair milk that I came across on Magicam.

Home Tap 4: I'm totally used to Lilia-chan's surprises... Is what I'd like to say, but he definitely got me again this year.

Home Tap 5: It's rare to see ya boy Cay-kun without a suit drawn on, isn't it? Wanna take a pic together to remember this moment by?

Home Tap - Groovy: My loungewear? Well, yeah, I have a ton of other sets. Maybe I should wear a more cool-looking outfit tomorrow ♪

Duo: [CATER]: Leona-kun, gimmie your most heartfelt well wishes～ [LEONA]: I'll just do it normally, Cater.

Birthday Login Message: Thanks for the birthday wishes! I got a thing with the Pop Music Club after this, but you wanna come with me, [Yuu]? I mean, it's not really like we're going to be doing anything special. We'll probably just be snacking and chatting, like usual. Ah, I just had a good idea. One sec, let me reach out to Lilia-chan and Kalim-kun. ...Niice～ Looks like they're both on board. "'Kay, then we'll go with the plan I just sent you guys" ...And send. So basically, we're gonna throw an impromptu Cay-kun Birthday Performance. Come and enjoy the celebration!

Requested by @farfalla049.

[hjvi]

𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝑼𝒏𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅

Pairing: Bsf!Chris Sturniolo x Fem!Reader

Summary: After burying your feelings for Chris for years, you're caught off guard when jealousy resurfaces, watching him with another girl. requested

Word Count: 2k

You’ve known Chris for as long as you can remember. His laugh is unmistakable—the kind that echoes, rich and deep, bouncing off walls and filling every corner of the room with warmth. He’s always been loud, full of life, and incredibly magnetic, effortlessly drawing people in with his charm. But for you, it was always more than that.

You knew him long before you started feeling this way—long before his tousled brown hair, with the hints of sun-kissed highlights, started looking a little too perfect in the way it fell over his forehead. Before his blue eyes started making your stomach twist in a way you could no longer ignore. Before you started noticing the little things, like the warmth of his hand when it brushed against yours, the way he’d throw his arm around your shoulders during movie nights with the group, the way he’d pause mid-sentence, just to smile at you like he couldn’t help himself.

For so long, you’d been his best friend—the quiet one, the one who had always been there for him, laughing at his jokes, listening to his stories, offering support. But recently, it started to feel different. You started noticing things—small things—that never bothered you before. His smile. How it lingered just a little longer when he looked at you, how his eyes would soften when you spoke about something that mattered to you. The way he would rest his hand on your shoulder casually when you were hanging out, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

But you couldn’t admit it—not even to yourself. Because how could you? He was Chris, your best friend. Your partner in crime, the one you could tell everything to, the one who made you laugh when you felt like crying. If you told him how you felt, you were terrified it would ruin everything. You couldn’t lose him, not like that. Not over something as silly as a crush.

Ever since Chris and I were kids, he had the biggest crush on me. His brothers would tease him relentlessly, making exaggerated kissing noises every time he so much as looked at me for too long. Everyone knew. It was an unspoken truth, something that just existed between us, a constant presence I never had to question.

It lasted for years. And I never thought much of it—Chris always asking me dumb questions just to talk to me, always finding excuses to sit beside me, always looking at me like I hung the stars in the sky. It was just Chris being Chris.

Until he stopped.

I don’t know exactly when it happened, but one day I realized he didn’t ask me those corny things anymore. He didn’t try to sit closer. He didn’t stare at me like I was his entire world. And I should’ve been relieved, should’ve been grateful that the teasing from his brothers had finally died down.

But I wasn’t.

I missed his attention. I missed knowing I was the center of his focus..

I remember the first time we formally talked about our crushes. It was in middle school, sprawled out on his bedroom floor, tossing a stress ball back and forth.

"I kinda like Sophia," he had admitted, his voice casual, like he wasn’t saying something that made my stomach twist.

Sophia. The blonde that every guy liked. The one with the kind of effortless beauty that made people gravitate toward her. Of course, he liked her.

I had forced a smile, nodding. "Yeah? She’s cool."

Chris studied me for a second before tossing the ball again. "Who do you like?"

I froze. My heart stuttered, my mind scrambling for a name that wasn’t his.

Because for the first time, I realized—I liked Chris.

And it terrified me.

"I don’t know," I lied, shrugging. "Haven’t really thought about it."

He smirked. "Liar."

I laughed it off, quickly changing the subject, but the truth sat heavy in my chest.

The weight of unspoken words had never felt heavier than it did now. For as long as I could remember, Chris had been my person. My best friend. The one I could always count on to make me laugh when the world felt unbearable. The one whose presence alone made everything feel lighter. But somewhere along the way, things had shifted. My laughter lingered a little too long when he cracked a joke. My heart raced a little too fast when his hand brushed against mine. My eyes searched for him in every crowded room, drawn to him in a way I knew wasn’t just friendly.

I had fallen in love with him.

And I never told him.

I buried those feelings so deep inside me, convinced that if I ignored them long enough, they would disappear. Because why would someone like Chris ever look at me that way? He deserved someone beautiful, effortless—someone who didn’t trip over their own words when he smiled at them. And if I ever told him, it would ruin everything. So I stayed quiet. I convinced myself that being his best friend was enough.

But then, Leah came into the picture.

At first, it was just a passing thought. You knew about her, of course. She was friends with the group, always hanging out with them, just like you. But over the past couple of weeks, things had changed. You’d noticed the way Chris started talking about her more—how he’d smile a little brighter when her name came up, how he’d mention things they’d done together, and how his eyes would light up when he talked about her, in a way that he’d never looked at you.

It was a gradual shift, but one you couldn’t ignore.

It started small at first. The way he talked about her. A girl whose name I had never needed to remember before, but suddenly, it was everywhere. Her laugh, her texts lighting up his phone, the way his eyes sparkled when he mentioned her. And then I saw it—the way he looked at her, and it shattered me.

I had spent so long pretending that I was okay just being his friend, but now, I couldn’t pretend anymore. Every time he smiled at her, it felt like a knife to the heart. Every time I saw her name flash on his screen, I wanted to disappear. Because it wasn’t me. It would never be me. And the thought of that—of watching him fall in love with someone who wasn’t me—was unbearable.

So I started pulling away.

At first, Chris didn’t notice. He’d text me, and I’d reply hours later, blaming school or sleep. When he called, I let it ring until it stopped, my fingers hovering over the answer button, aching to hear his voice but knowing it would only hurt. I started making excuses, avoiding plans, choosing solitude over his company.

But Chris wasn’t stupid.

It was a Thursday when everything came to a head. The weather was unusually warm for an early spring evening, the sunlight streaming through the window in Chris’s room as you sat next to him, legs stretched out on the floor. Chris had his headphones on, scrolling through his phone while you were lost in thought. The space between you both felt wider than ever, like something had shifted and you couldn’t put it back.

He was talking, his voice full of energy, but you weren’t really listening. You were too focused on the way his laugh sounded when he mentioned Leah’s name—how much joy seemed to be wrapped in that one syllable.

“Yeah, Leah and I were talking about going to that concert next month,” Chris said, not even noticing the way your heart dropped at the mention of her.

You forced a smile, trying to keep the sadness from showing. “That sounds fun,” you said, trying to keep your voice light. You bit your lip, fighting the tears that were threatening to spill over. It was becoming harder and harder to control them.

Chris pulled his headphones off and turned to you, his eyes narrowing in concern. “You sure you’re alright?” he asked, his voice softening. He reached out to touch your arm, and his touch made your heart race for all the wrong reasons.

“I’m fine,” you whispered, your throat tight. You didn’t know how to explain it to him—not without feeling like a fool. How could you tell him that you were in love with him, that every moment with him was a reminder of what you could never have?

This was just the beginning of the interrogations

“Okay, what the hell is going on with you?” he asked one evening, barging into my room without warning, his blue eyes sharp with concern.

I sat frozen on my bed, my laptop open in front of me, though I hadn’t typed a single word in the past hour. My heart slammed against my ribs. “What?”

“Don’t play dumb, dude. You’ve been weird. Distant. You barely talk to me anymore.” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Did I do something?”

Yes, I wanted to scream. You fell for someone else. And you didn’t even notice it was breaking me.

But instead, I shook my head. “I’m just busy, Chris.”

“Bullshit,” he shot back immediately, crossing his arms. “You’re avoiding me.”

I swallowed hard, looking anywhere but at him. “I’m not.”

He sighed, stepping closer, his voice softer this time. “Then why won’t you look at me?”

Tears burned at the back of my eyes. I clenched my fists, willing myself to keep it together, but it was useless. The pain, the jealousy, the heartbreak—it was all bubbling to the surface too fast for me to stop it.

“Chris,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Please just drop it.”

“No,” he said firmly. “I won’t. Because you’re hurting, and I don’t know why.” He hesitated, searching my face. “Is it something I did?”

The lump in my throat grew, and before I could stop myself, a single tear slipped down my cheek. “You didn’t do anything.”

Chris’s face fell, his expression crumbling as he reached for me instinctively. “Then why are you crying?”

He leaned in closer, his warm blue eyes locking with yours, and you could feel the weight of his gaze. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

He froze, and you felt his hand gently tug at your chin, pulling your face back toward him. His eyes were wide with concern, his usual teasing expression replaced by one of deep, genuine worry.

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, everything felt too heavy. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, and the vulnerability you’d been hiding for so long threatened to break free. You looked at him, his face so close to yours, his genuine concern written all over his features, and it hit you like a wave.

And just like that, the dam broke.

I sucked in a shaky breath, my entire body trembling. “Because I can’t do this anymore,” I admitted, my voice cracking. “I can’t keep pretending like it doesn’t kill me to see you with her. I can’t keep acting like I don’t care when you talk about her, when you smile at her, when you—” I broke off, covering my face with my hands. “God, I’m so stupid.”

Chris stood frozen, his breath catching. “Wait,” he said slowly. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

I let out a bitter laugh, wiping at my tears. “I’m saying I love you, Chris. I have for a long time. And I never told you because I was terrified of ruining this—ruining us. But now, it doesn’t even matter, does it?” My voice cracked on the last words, my heart breaking all over again. “Because you’ve already found someone else.”

Chris’s expression shifted, his brows furrowing deeply. “Wait—what?” His voice cracked slightly, the shock evident on his face. He pulled you closer, his hands gently cradling your face. “You... you’re in love with me?”

The words felt like a breath of fresh air—like a confession you had kept locked away in the deepest part of your heart. But even as you said it, you weren’t sure what would happen next. Would he push you away? Would he laugh? Or would he... understand?

Silence.

My chest heaved, the room spinning around me. I didn’t know what I expected—maybe for him to let me down gently, to tell me he was flattered but his heart was elsewhere. Maybe even for him to walk away. But I didn’t expect what happened next.

Chris stepped forward, closing the distance between us. His hands cupped my face, forcing me to meet his gaze. His thumbs brushed away my tears, his touch so unbearably gentle it made my breath hitch.

“I—I’m sorry,” you stammered, wiping at your eyes, trying to suppress the tears. “I never wanted to say it. I didn’t want to ruin things between us.”

Chris was silent for a moment, his brow furrowing as he stood up slowly. He walked over to you and gently took your phone from your hand, placing it on the coffee table. His touch was light, his hand brushing against your fingers in a way that sent warmth rushing through you.

“Hey,” he said softly, kneeling in front of you so you were eye-level. “You don’t have to apologize for your feelings. It’s okay to feel what you feel.”

But you couldn’t stop the tears. They came in waves now, the floodgates opening. “I just thought… I thought I was fine,” you whispered through the sobs. “I thought I could handle it. But seeing you with her, seeing you get so close to her, it just—it hurts so much. I… I don’t know how to be around you anymore.”

Chris’s expression shifted from concern to something deeper—something you couldn’t quite place. He gently cupped your face in his hands, wiping away the tears with his thumbs. His eyes were intense, a mix of confusion and something else—something you couldn’t decipher.

“You’re an idiot,” he whispered, shaking his head.

“You think I don’t feel it too?” he murmured, his voice rough. He gently pulled you into his arms, holding you close, his warmth enveloping you. “I’ve been trying to figure this out, too, you know.”

I opened my mouth to protest, to explain how I had felt so invisible, so forgotten. But his next words stopped me.

“I’ve been in love with you for so long, I’m pretty sure it’s written all over my face,” he said, his voice raw, unguarded. “But I never said anything because I thought you didn’t feel the same way. I didn’t want to mess everything up. But the truth is... I can’t stand seeing you hurt. I can’t stand the idea of losing you. I need you, and I always have.” Chris’s hands gently ran up and down your back, the touch comforting yet charged with emotion.

My breath caught in my throat, my heart hammering against my chest as his words sank in. I blinked rapidly, trying to process them, to keep my composure, but it was like everything inside me finally cracked open. All the years of pretending, of burying my feelings beneath layers of friendship and doubt, had been in vain. Chris—Chris felt the same way.

“You... love me?” I whispered, still not quite believing it, my voice trembling as I searched his face for any sign of doubt. But there was none. His gaze was steady, unwavering.

“I love you,” he said, more firmly this time. “Always have. Always will.”

The realization hit you then, like a weight lifting from your chest. He had been feeling the same way all along, hiding his feelings just as much as you had.

Without thinking, you pulled back slightly, looking up into his eyes, and that was when everything seemed to come together. The pain, the confusion, the years of silence... it all fell away. The only thing that mattered now was the connection between you two.

“Chris... I’m scared,” you whispered, your hands shaking slightly as you cupped his face.

He smiled softly, that familiar, reassuring grin that made your heart race. “I know,” he murmured, brushing your hair out of your face. “But we’ll figure it out. Together.”

My chest swelled with something I couldn’t quite name—relief, hope, joy—until it all broke free in a rush of emotion. Without thinking, I stepped forward, closing the distance between us. My hands found his chest, pressing against the solid warmth of him, and before I could stop myself, I was kissing him—softly, tentatively at first, as though testing the waters after a lifetime of waiting.

The moment our lips met, everything else faded into the background. At first, it was slow—tentative. His lips were soft against mine, his breath warm and steady. I could feel the tension in his body, like he was testing the waters, unsure if this was real. And then, just like that, it deepened. Chris’s hand slid to my waist, pulling me in closer, until there was no space left between us. His touch was gentle but firm, like he needed me, like he was afraid to let go. His lips moved against mine with a tenderness that made my heart flutter, each kiss a promise, each one a reassurance that this moment was more than just a fleeting desire.

I melted into him, my fingers finding their way to his chest, lightly gripping the fabric of his shirt. His heart was racing beneath my touch, mirroring mine. The kiss grew more urgent, but there was still a sweetness to it, a softness that made everything feel like it was happening in slow motion, like we had all the time in the world. His lips were warm and sure, coaxing mine to respond, to give in, and I did, losing myself in the sensation of him, in the feeling of finally being close to the one person I had secretly longed for.

But eventually, I had to pull away, gasping for air. The intensity of the kiss left me breathless, my body trembling from the closeness of it. I couldn’t think, couldn’t process anything beyond the overwhelming feeling of his lips on mine, of the warmth of his touch.

I pulled back just enough to catch my breath, my chest heaving as I looked up at him. His eyes were still closed, as if he were trying to hold onto the moment just a little longer. But when he opened them, he locked his gaze with mine, and in that moment, I saw something in his eyes I hadn’t expected—something so tender, so vulnerable.

He reached for me almost immediately, his hands gentle as he cupped my face, pulling me back toward him. His lips found mine again, but this time, it was softer—gentler. He kissed me with a tenderness that spoke volumes, as if he needed me as much as I needed him, and as if he had been waiting for this moment just as long as I had. His touch was no longer desperate, but filled with a quiet longing, a reassurance that we were in this together, that we had both found something we couldn’t bear to let go of.

His breath mingled with mine, warm and slow, as his forehead rested gently against mine. His hands moved to my back, holding me close, as if he never wanted to let me go. I could feel the warmth of his chest against mine, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under my fingertips, and it was like everything in the world had finally fallen into place.

“I’ve been wanting this for so long,” Chris whispered, his voice soft, almost a little shaky. “You’re everything to me, you know that?”

I nodded, my heart swelling with emotions I couldn’t quite put into words. The love in his voice, the way he held me like I was fragile, like I was something precious—it was everything I’d ever wanted. He gently brushed a strand of hair from my face, his fingers lingering against my skin for a moment longer than necessary, as if he was memorizing the feel of me, like he never wanted to forget this moment.

“Don’t pull away,” he whispered again, his voice thick with emotion. His eyes searched mine, the intensity in them soft but unwavering. “I need you here. With me. Always.”

I looked into his eyes, feeling the sincerity in his words, the depth of his feelings for me. His hands were still on my waist, holding me close but with a softness that made me feel safe, cherished.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered back, my voice a little shaky as I cupped his cheek, running my thumb across the stubble that had started to form there. “I’m right here.”

And with that, he kissed me again, slowly this time—more like a promise than a question. His lips were gentle against mine, like he was savoring the moment, making sure we were both fully present in it. There was no rush, no urgency, just the quiet certainty that we were exactly where we were meant to be. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me even closer, and I let myself get lost in him, in the feeling of finally being with the person I had loved for so long.

When we finally pulled away again, I could see the faintest smile tugging at his lips, and I knew that whatever came next, we would face it together. His hands gently cradled my face, and I could feel the tenderness in every touch, every look. He wasn’t just kissing me; he was showing me that he needed me, that he loved me, in a way that words couldn’t fully express.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I'm sorry if this feels a bit rushed – it's because, well, it kind of is. This was a requested piece, and I apologize it's not a full-length fic, but I really hope you still enjoy it! Things have been pretty busy on my end, but I'm hoping to dive into future requests with more plot and depth. Thanks again for your patience and support!

tags - @swagalicious260 @watercolorskyy @coquettechris @lovesturni0l0s @christmastreecake @ellbowmacaroni @blog-luvdance @sophand4n4 @meg4-matt44 @mommymomm @chriss-slutt @humpster35 @courta13 @idkwhatthisis2009 @yourfavoritefangirl @slutformatt17 @watercolorskyy @mylifeisevenstranger @suyqa @junnniiieee07 @thecrawlys

╰┈➤𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒚, 𝒉𝒊𝒗𝒊

[sexually-attracted-to-pans]

My drama so far is so much more lame. I'm about halfway through my Freshman year so you have a timeline for this.

Theater: So this couple that's in sophomore year, broke up after three years together. They were cast together as the main couple in our play Puffs this year, and on the night of the second show they had an argument. Now I'm a tech person so I didn't see anything go down but apparently this happened again the next day, the day of our final show. And that night at the cast party, one of the other actors was flirting to the girl from this relationship while she flirt back and that's how everyone found out they broke up. About 90% sure they got together. But anyway the guy was devastated no one saw or heard from him for weeks, we were all getting really worried and then he just showed back up one day and hooked up with one of the senior guys(yes he's bi its high school theater none of us are straight), and we found out he was quitting theater the same day.

(Bonus: I wrote fanfiction about 2 unrelated characters from the play and it was shared around the entire cast before a senior friend of mine read it out load in dramatic reading for one of the actors who played one of the characters that I wrote about. The fanfiction I wrote about to sad gay Hogwarts kids and the life of one of them after the other dies in the battle of Hogwarts. traumatized him. I feel sorry for the man but we have talked and luckily he only holds the grudge against the friends that read it to him, who later wrote smut fanfic about the characters on Wattpad(mine was ao3)).

BEN(before I start this one I want to say I did date him for a month in middle school but I hate him for being a manipulative gaslighting bitch): SO started with small lies last year about being extremely good at a card game he played called Battle Spirits, none of us though anything of it as it was just him being cocky and pretending to be cool.

Then this year, supposedly has 9 grandparents die in the same 2 weeks, is still going to school and claims he cared but never brings it up unless we are talking about something he doesn't know about. Then claims his mom got pregnant with his what 5th sibling, a little girl. We know he doesn't have a mom that he's in contact with as he was adopted and his father is gay(my friends dad is friends with Ben's dad that's how we found out). Then less then 5 months after he made up lies about her whole pregnancy he claims his "little sister" dies of a non-existent heart disease. Still going to school and doesn't even bother pretending to act sad. Claims to win a world wide contest for the card game in Japan, we don't even have proof of him going to Japan over the summer.

We are getting tired and kick him out of the group. You want to know how he tried to convince us to let him back in? Claim he got a girl(from our school who we know) pregnant. Only took a month for him to try and gaslight the school into believing that abortion wasn't a medical procedure which you need parental consent for so that he could lie and say they never told their parents.

He also tried to claim he had the rarest blood type in the world when our school did a blood drive. He was referring to Rh-null also called Golden Blood. "Rh-null aka “Golden Blood” is the rarest blood type in the world with fewer than 50 (43 to be exact) known cases ever reported. While there are only eight main/common blood types, there are an additional 61 possible antigens in the Rh system, which means that the eight main blood types can be subdivided into millions of different blood types. Rh-null occurs when a person’s blood lacks all of the 61 possible antigens." (I am quoting this from an article about blood types: https://rarest.org/people/blood-types).

Yep this man has done so many other small things like claiming to have 1000s of dollars in custom made costumes while showing us ai photos of them, and thousands of dollars in cards for the card game(which might be the only true one as his dad owns a card and game shop).

Now that I wrote that whole thing maybe my life is much worse then I thought...

where do TV shows get this idea that high school is constant drama, nothing even fucking happened to me in high school

[blluesiide]

Everything is still very new. Fresh. Tender.

This relationship you've been slowly cultivating with Spencer has kept a delicate pace, so as not to frighten either of you away.

Something unique you've found in your dynamic is how both of your inner children would come out to play with one another. The soft, silly, nonjudgmental moments you've shared have been healing, and always left both of you feeling a little lighter.

You sit on his bed, watching him try to do his tie. His half asleep brain and heavy fingers don't seem to be cooperating with one another. You'd spent the night, a sleepover with the promise of spending his day off together. You'd stayed up hours into the quiet evening whispering, sharing secrets and making gentle observations on things that didn't really matter, and mattered the most at the same time.

These plans were interrupted by his phone, ringing loud enough to startle both of you out of the depths of your safe slumber.

You hear a soft huff, frustrated. You raise your eyes to see him untangling the material again.

"Let me," You say as you make your way around the bed, stepping cautiously between his legs as your hands deftly begin working on the tie.

Your focus is unwavering, and you miss the way his eyes glimmer, his breathing increasing ever so slightly as a warmth spreads it's way through his chest. You've never looked more beautiful to him. You're really here, in his apartment, tying his tie so delicately like he's something worth fussing over, and just as you finish it, leaning in to make sure it's straight, he catches your wrist, pushing up and letting his lips meet yours.

The phrase "Time stopped." has never felt more appropriate than now, warmth pouring into you at the feeling, leaving your eyes fluttering open after he parts.

"You... You don't have to leave just because I'm going to work. You could... Sleep more. Or hang out... Anything. I don't mind." He nervously lets out.

He thinks about the kiss all day, his mind drifting to the moments before, your hands working gently towards his presentability.

He's over the moon when he returns home to see your shoes still neatly placed at his front door. Your soft humming and the sound of vegetables being cut in his kitchen reach his ears. For the first time in a long time, he knows this is something he could get used to.