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sohnric · 1 year ago

Text

plot twist – k. sunwoo

pairing: kim sunwoo x gn! reader

genre: coworkers au, enemies to lovers au. fluff, a poor attempt at comedy. movie theatre! worker sunwoo and reader. bitch boy sunwoo. the reader has anger issues. owner's son! sunwoo being annoying about everything. winter themes, sunwoo is a little kid about stuff but mostly the snow.

wc: 21k

warnings: swearing, a heated make out session. y/n's inner monologue is just my own feelings about this man im sorry. i watched too much of the office when writing this can you tell. also i made sunwoo's sister underage for plot reasons deal with it.

working with kim sunwoo has so far been the worst experience of your whole entire life. just his existence alone is enough to make your day completely miserable– though, one would think that working with movies on the daily would prepare you for the biggest plot twist of your life.

a/n: this took me SO LONG to write woah. i have a humble playlist for this fic if any of yall wanna listen to it while you read <3 a huge thank you goes to my best friend @csenke for being my biggest motivator and hype man when it came to this fic. thank u for being my first ever beta reader hihi i couldn't have done this without you i am forever grateful ily. also im tagging @heemingyu because whe told me to

ho ho ho! this fic is a part of the secret santa event by @deoboyznet ! @kimsohn maya, i was your secret santa this year, i hope you enjoy the fic i prepared for you

TONIGHT'S PREMIERE – UGLY TRUTH (2009)

If anyone ever asked you about your job in the movie theater, you wouldn’t really know what to say.

You see, what may had seemed like your dream job when you were little, acquiring the fairytale vision after going to the cinema for the first time to see the Horton movie when you were just 7, quickly turned into reality one ordinary day during your junior year of university. And it wasn’t even that hard; you just dropped off your CV at the movie theater on the corner of the town's square when you saw the sign that said ‘looking for part-timers’ in a messy, giant handwriting on the glass door– and soon enough, you found yourself in the depths of the vintage-looking cinema, wearing the red uniform the owner gave you, selling movie tickets to teenagers and taking out the trash. It’s hard to enjoy the job when you’re on bathroom cleaning duty, though, and the fact that this is what you once imagined to be the most exciting job in the whole entire world turns twice as boring when you realize just how mundane it really is.

Still, you can’t bring yourself to quit, well, because you need the money.

Do you hate working in the cinema? No. Not really. Sure, it’s kind of boring– especially on the nights when you’re selling tickets at the front and nobody comes in for hours– but it’s not that difficult. It’s not physically or mentally demanding, so you’d say that you’re still on the better end when it comes to work environment. Your boss isn’t a dick and you get paid on time– so really, if anyone asked you if you hated it, your answer would be no.

Until one fateful day, of course.

You’re met with a person that’s going to efficiently change this opinion around in one swift bat of their eyelashes and a drag of their hand through their messy hair.

“So… you’re the new part-timer?” a tall boy asks you one day when you arrive at work. You’re already wearing your uniform when you come through the front door– since you don’t really feel like changing in the toilets that are not staff-exclusive here– and frankly, his voice startles you on your way in.

“Yeah,” you nod, furrowing your brows at the stranger. “And you are…?”

“Sunwoo,” the boy says, matter-of-factly, as if you’re supposed to know who exactly he is now that he’s introduced himself to you. The look on your face may show that you’re still clueless, and see, that’s something that must have played with the boy’s ego. “Kim Sunwoo,” he snickers, “the owner’s son..?”

Blinking a few times, trying to remember if Mr Kim’s ever told you about having a son– he hasn’t– you gasp like a fish on the dry, nodding. “Oh… Hello..?” you mumble, not really knowing what to do with the information.

“Hi,” he says, face stone cold and motionless. Something’s wrong, but you can’t quite put your finger on it….

Well, you’ll have to deal with that later. “My shift starts in 5 minutes, so I gotta find Mr- your dad, and ask him what’s on my to-do list today, but it was nice meeting you,” you try to force out a polite (maybe even warm) smile before you turn on your heel and march towards the staff room, where Mr Kim usually resigns unless he is helping you out with something at the front. See, on not busy days, working at the cinema requires only one person. On Fridays, though, it can get tough. That’s when the owner makes the popcorn while you both sell and scan the tickets at the same time– sometimes you wonder why he doesn’t hire another person to help out with the job.

“Wait– newbie–”

The nickname startles you, again, as you turn around and squint at him. You have a name– and although he has no way of knowing it (other than his father telling him, but seeming that you didn’t even know about his son, Mr Kim isn’t big on sharing information)– but still, you’d love to be called by it. “It’s Y/N, actually.”

“Oh, right…” he hums, “well, Y/N, dad’s not here tonight, so… I’m… kind of in charge,” he says, nodding as he gets the words out, trying to prove his point, “he had other things to take care of, so he sent me down instead,” he explains, watching as your face morphs into one of quick understatement.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he nods, sucking on his teeth.

Thick silence overtakes the atmosphere. You feel awkward and out of place.

“So…?” you hum, waiting for him to tell you what to do.

Because a guy your age ordering you around at work is already embarrassing enough for a university student just trying to pay for their groceries. You’re not gonna ask for the orders yourself. You still have some dignity.

“So… I could take the ticket booth and you can clean the screening room, since there are no movies on tonight?” he suggests, rocking on his heels. The boy seems a bit shaken with the new sense of responsibility, but you figure that even his undoubtful awkwardness still doesn't put you above his position.

You mentally sigh. Cleaning is your least favorite part of the job.

Still, you’re not gonna talk back to your boss’ son. You’d like to keep your job for a while longer. At least until you find something better.

“Alright,” you nod, turning on your heels once more and preparing to disappear into the depths of the cinema.

His voice stops you again, though, frustration flowing through your veins. “Don’t forget to mop the floors! Oh, and the bathroom could use a clean as well.”

“Alright,” you nod again, your back facing him.

“Also, you need to get the gum off the chairs, I know it’s kind of disgusting, but there’s a-”

“I know how to do my job, thank you,” you turn, smiling ironically over your shoulder.

You don’t know what it is about the man that makes you so, so incredibly irritated. Maybe it’s the fact that every bit of information coming out of his mouth sounds like he’s mansplaining everything to you. Maybe it’s the fact that you feel humiliated to be told what to do by a man that’s your age. Or maybe, it’s just the sheer fact that you hate cleaning– the one thing he just told you to do.

Still, you go and get the vacuum. You go and mop the floors, you go and take the gum off the chairs and scrape it into a bucket you keep in the pantry in the back. You go and clean the bathroom, even though it’s 10 minutes until the end of your shift (you only work 4 hours on Wednesdays) and you spent almost your whole day cleaning the whole screening room by yourself (the screening room that’s giant and Mr Kim helps you with on most days). You go and wipe the mirror in the bathroom, as well as the windows in the hall.

You say that your work in the cinema is not physically demanding, but by the time you’re out, your back hurts and your knees are all bruised up from getting on the ground so often.

What really sets you off, though, is the sight of the owner’s son sitting in the booth, both legs up on the table and chewing on something, his phone in his hands as he watches, what you presume from the language resonating from the speaker, a silly anime. At least someone had fun during their shift, you think as you leave without saying goodbye to him, slamming the door behind you with a loud bang on your way out.

Quite frankly, you didn’t know what set you off so bad this time. Maybe you just had a bad day. Maybe it could've been fixed with your next shared shift with the guy– you never know.

Little did you know that it was only going to get worse from now on, though.

TONIGHT'S PREMIERE – PALM SPRINGS (2020)

If you knew your boss’s son would play the role of your supervisor from time to time, you probably wouldn't have taken the job when it was offered to you.

Why?

The reason is quite simple– while you go to work to make money, Kim Sunwoo goes to work to make your whole life a living hell. Ranging from always giving you the more difficult task of the day to making unfunny jokes about your performance (he once asked if you ran a marathon after you mopped the whole hall, his grinning figure staring at you from inside of the ticket booth), you’re starting to think that Kim Sunwoo is mentally stuck with the brain of an 11-year old boy.

More so with his recent endeavors. You don’t really know what he’s trying to achieve with all of this, but you’re starting to despise going to work even when you know he’s not on the schedule– somehow, you’re afraid his silly pranks and jokes will follow you and surprise you even when he’s not present. Is this his way of asserting dominance? You really don’t know.

It all starts one day before a movie premiere when Sunwoo walks up to you and introduces you to a new concession item to sell in the snack booth. While you don’t really know why one would even think of new combinations to sell at a cinema, since everyone’s just gonna get popcorn or nachos, you don’t really question the idea much further– Sunwoo’s father owns this place, so he must know the best marketing strategies for his business. The reality only downs on you when you’re forced to promote the “Ultimate movie mix” to every customer– which wouldn’t even be that strange, if the mix didn’t include the weird combination of pickles and candy.

Running on two all nighters and half an energy drink, you didn’t realize the snack stand doesn’t even hold pickles. You were notified the day after by your boss, though, and that wasn’t your best experience.

The terror follows when Sunwoo’s father decides to run a Star Wars marathon one weekend. The flood of customers wouldn’t be as hard to manage when you run the snack stand, but it does get more difficult when your coworker running around with a lightsaber knocks over all the buckets of freshly-made popcorn you just put on the counter for the customers to take.

He doesn’t even say sorry. Or help clean the spilled popcorn up from the floor. Or help you make a new batch.

He just laughs.

Sunwoo just loves to laugh at you. Like that one time he made you wear a giant popcorn costume and stand in front of the cinema for the entirety of your 4 hour shift on Wednesday to promote the new movie airing on Friday. Hardly anyone took the fliers you were desperately trying to force into their hands and when you came back, you saw Sunwoo pointing his camera at you from the big glass window.

The next shift, his dad asked you how Sunwoo did when promoting the movie. You didn’t have the heart to tell him he forced you to do the dirty business instead.

Another time, Sunwoo informs you via text in the middle of your shift that you should clean the bathrooms. The fact itself already makes you furious, but you follow the order nonetheless– because, well, what else can you do? You’re used to cleaning the toilets, since it’s a part of your job. It’s just the fact that a guy your age told you to that’s making you rethink all your career decisions.

The trip to the bathrooms quickly turns traumatizing when you step inside of the tiled room and have the door behind you close with a loud bang, followed by the light switching off. Screeching, you jump and try to escape the room with fear making your heart run faster than Usain Bolt, however, you find the door seemingly locked– the sound of Sunwoo’s snarky laugh coming from the other side making you recognise what just happened and how he’s pulling another one of his childish pranks on you again.

When the door finally opens, you throw the toilet brush into his chest and scream out a “I’m going to fucking quit if I see your face one more time!”. You’re over all formalities.

That doesn’t mean you’re not scared every time you enter a room in the cinema when you work with Sunwoo, though. Your reaction was strengthened very abruptly, you see.

Sitting in the ticket booth, door ajar to monitor your surroundings, you plop your head on your hand and glare at Sunwoo, chewing on your gum. If anyone saw you right now, they’d think you were trying to kill him with your stare, but the opposite would actually be the truth tonight– you were quite enjoying the sight of him wiping the sweat off his forehead and scowling at the neverending flow of customers.

The beauty of having ticket booth duty on premiere night is that everyone bought the tickets beforehand already, meaning that it wasn’t usually busy. Scanning the tickets and running the snack booth were the more difficult parts of the shift, and since Mr Kim decided to show up to work today, Sunwoo was graced with the snack booth duty– something that warmed you up from the inside and made you want to kiss your boss’s feet in gratefulness.

There’s just something about seeing Kim Sunwoo in misery that makes your stomach turn and do cartwheels. You’re in love with his pathetic, tired face.

His eyes meet yours when he takes a moment to breathe– the look behind them is pleading, almost embarrassingly hopeless as he internally wishes he was in your place. You think this serves him right for the weeks of torture, and when he becomes you to come over with a motion of his hand, you just shrug at him and bat your eyelashes in faked innocence.

It’s not your fault he’s on duty tonight. What does he want with you?

His lips mouth “Come here,” which makes you battle a satisfied smile. Poor Kim Sunwoo is helpless in his task. The rush just won’t stop and he’s asked of more than he can handle. You kind of feel sadistic when you truly think about your sentiments, but you think you’re only valid for feeding on his misery.

“Help!” he mouths again, and now you truly can’t battle the laughter anymore. His hair is tousled and sticking to his forehead. His uniform is dirty. The tie around his neck is loose. The sight makes you utterly satisfied.

As he mouths “Please,” accompanied by clasped hands and a pleading look that would work on most women, you finally decide to stand up from the uncomfortable chair in the ticket booth and shake your head in disbelief. You can’t even count how many times Sunwoo left you alone in the rush before a premiere, but you can’t really risk his father finding out you didn’t come to rescue his beloved son, since however you might hate this job, you still can’t lose it in your current living conditions.

Sighing and closing the door to the ticket booth after you, your legs take you to the snack stand. Eyes of enthusiastic customers looking almost high on coca cola and the smell of salted popcorn are on you when you finally reach Sunwoo’s side.

“So I’m supposed to help you with your work whenever you ask, but when I’m left cleaning the whole theater completely alone, you can sit around and play on your phone?” you jab, annoyed with the turn of events. You find a spare apron and tie it around your waist, not really wanting to dirty your uniform as you pour caramel into some buckets of popcorn, hearing your companion chuckle next to you.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Okay, so I’ll be back in the ticket booth after serving this customer-”

“My dad’s watching.”

“This is blackmailing,” you snap back, smiling ironically at your coworker.

Sunwoo grins at you when he hands two cokes to the teenage girls behind the counter, shrugging to himself. “Not my problem.”

You learned long ago that fighting with Kim Sunwoo is a battle you can never win. Logically, you know you’re always right, but the boy always thinks he should have the last word in everything, which makes ending an argument with him pretty much impossible. That’s why you stopped trying to prove your truth. In your heart, you know how it is, and no amount of snarky remarks from the feisty boy will change your opinion.

You two work alongside each other in silence for some time. You’d even say it’s efficient– you make the popcorn and he makes the nachos, both of you taking turns behind the coca cola machine, and after a few minutes in his proximity when he’s not being the butt of the Earth, your brain starts to question why you two can’t operate like this on a daily basis.

Oh, how foolish of you.

You’re quickly brought back to reality when you walk over with the grande size bucket of popcorn towards the counter, meeting halfway with Kim Sunwoo’s chest.

It takes everything in you not to scream, but the restraint is deleted as soon as you feel something cold dripping down the front of your uniform, your white button-up suddenly sticking towards your chest in a big, dark-brown pool around your waist area. One sharp look into his eyes is everything it takes you two to come to a mutual understanding of what your next action is gonna be– Sunwoo quickly puts the now empty cup of coca cola onto the counter and puts a hand towards his head in self-disappointment.

“Kim Sunwoo, are you fucking incompetent?!” you scream out, the sensation of your cold shirt sticking to your already sweaty skin making you want to crawl out of yourself and scratch your coworker’s eyes out with the claws of the demon he wakes up in you.

“Look, you don’t have to-”

“I just washed this yesterday, there’s a line of people waiting for their snacks up to the fucking front door, you just ruined the popcorn I made so now I have to redo it, and you just decide to spill this onto me?!” you continue with your rampage, not really caring about the eyes of everyone on you, just letting out all your built-up frustration that creeps inside of you every time you see his face.

“As if I did this on purpose…” he grunts as he turns around in his place and reaches for napkins, not really putting much thought into his actions as he presses the material into the damp place sticking to your skin.

The image startles you– Kim Sunwoo almost in physical contact with you, a paper napkin soaking up some of the coca cola flooding the surface of your skin– and as you watch his slender palms run over your front, your eyes falling to the fluffy hair at the crown of his head, you feel heat rushing to your insides, making you jump away from him.

“Sorry-” he mumbles out as you forcefully pry the napkin out of his hand, gritting your teeth.

“I’m starting to think you’re making me do everything just because you’re useless,” you spit at him.

Rolling his eyes, Sunwoo pokes his cheek with the tip of his tongue. “It was an accident.”

“Don’t care,” you grunt, walking away from the booth, “I’m going to change in the back, you better not burn the place down with the popcorn machine before I’m back,” you comment, sending him a sharp glare over your shoulder.

All that accompanies you to the staff room is Sunwoo’s loud sigh and a sugary-sweet tone he offers to one of the customers as he throws the ruined popcorn into the trash. “I’ll be right with you, miss!”

If anyone asked you if you hated your job now, you think you’d say yes.

Who are you kidding?

You’d definitely say yes.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – THE HATING GAME (2021)

You were quite pleased on your way to work today. It’s Wednesday, which usually means it’s not as busy. The weather is cloudy– good enough to not make you gloomy, but not quite sunny enough to make you wish you were outside instead of being stuck in the cinema the whole afternoon– and you packed a home-made sandwich with you to eat on your lunch break. Which is whenever, since you’re on ticket booth duty today– another great news.

The best thing about today, though? Kim Sunwoo isn’t working today.

That alone is good enough to make your whole entire day better. The sun shines brighter, your breathing is lighter, the air is clearer and the birds chirp louder when you know you don’t have to interact with the hellspawn that day. It’s like his absence alone is enough to heal all your wounds and delete all your worries– who cares about the fact that you’re barely getting through your Biology class when you know you won’t have to stare at Sunwoo’s face as you contemplate dropping out of university during your shift?

Maybe you should thank him, in a way.

And with all of this knowledge, a smile plastered on your face as you’re prepared to sit through your 5-hour shift in silence with an occasional swipe through your social media and a well deserved chicken-mayo sandwich towards the end of your shift, it’s quite natural for your smile to freeze and your spirit fall the moment you see the mop of dark brown hair walk through the doors of the cinema.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” you mourn as he walks by, only realizing you said the sentence out loud when the boy looks at you with a scowled face, a scoff escaping his throat.

“Didn’t know we were speaking to each other in third person now,” he says as he stops in his tracks and plops his head into the door to your booth, infesting your calm abode with his presence.

Deep breaths. In and out, Y/N. In and out…

“Hello to you too, Y/N,” he smiles, irony dripping off his tongue, “having a good day so far?”

“It was better without you here, thank you,” you snap back, rolling your eyes at him when his eyes flash with something akin to a victory– it seems you both take joy in making the other one absolutely miserable with your presence.

“Sweet,” he nods on his way out, grinning to himself. “Well, I won’t be long, so don’t let your mood drop too much.”

With that, he’s out of the ticket booth. All that’s left behind him is the smell of his cologne– the tingle of lemon and bergamot filling your nostrils in a way that makes the fine hair at the back of your neck stand up all alert– and silence. It makes you wonder about his whereabouts– you can never know… what if he’s setting up a trap for you somewhere? You wouldn’t be half surprised. You make a mental note to yourself to be twice as cautious when going to the bathroom next time. Just to make sure.

Before you’re able to think of any possible situations that Sunwoo could get himself caught in (while completely ignoring the fact that his father is somewhere in his office in the back– for all you know, he might just need to talk to your boss, like a son does sometimes), the woodworm of your thoughts appears in your view again, two rolled-up tubes under his shoulder as he walks over to the front door.

“Wait! What are those?” you ask, eyes zeroing on the very clear posters in his grip. The shiny white back of the big posters you have to sometimes put up in the front of the cinema are unmistakable to anything else.

“Posters,” Sunwoo replies, calling over his shoulder, already halfway out of the building.

“I know what those are–”

“Then why are you asking?” he huffs, shaking his head in disbelief as he takes a few steps towards the ticket booth, eyes meeting yours. His figure fills the door frame as he towers over you, still sitting on the chair. His eyes have a different kind of twinkle in them– you think, no, you know it’s mischief– making the blood in your veins boil at deadly temperatures.

“Because– well,” you huff, already frustrated, “we’re not allowed to take these,” you say, pointing to the two posters under his shoulder like a kid in the candy store. You try to ignore just how embarrassing you must look right in this moment.

“Oh,” he pouts, taking the posters from below his shoulder, unraveling one of them and resting the other one against the doorframe, “so you’re telling me… I can’t take those two amazingly big, shiny, cool posters of the latest Spiderman movie home for me and my friend Juyeon?”

You’re only half-aware of the fact that he’s teasing you right now, sighing at his innocent face. “No, Sunwoo. You can’t.”

“Hm,” he hums, looking at the poster from top to the bottom, seemingly sad about the news, “that’s terrible. Says who?”

“Your… your father, Sunwoo. He told me when I asked him the other day if I could take–”

“You wanted to take posters home from the cinema?” he gasps, looking at you with big eyes. He looks stupid. So, terribly stupid. Dumb. No thought behind his eyes. You want to smash his head against a concrete wall.

…He’s teasing you. It finally dawns on you.

Now, you want to smash your head against a concrete wall.

Still, you admit defeat with a solemn tone in your voice. “Well, I really wanted the Enola Holmes poster to put up in my bedroom…” you mumble.

“And my dad said no?” he asks, eyebrows quirking up towards his hairline.

“Yes, Sunwoo. Your father said it’s prohibited to take posters home from the cinema, that’s exactly why I’m stopping you right now,” you say, tone filled with annoyance. You know he’s enjoying your face full of misery. But still, if there’s one thing you’re good at, it’s following the rules and orders– if Mr Kim says you can’t take the posters home, you’ll go in the back and tear them into pieces before throwing them into the bin like you’re told to.

If things were going your way, you’d advise Sunwoo to do the same.

A day with Kim Sunwoo in it never goes your way, though. You should’ve been prepared.

“So I can’t take those posters home because my dad said no?” he clarifies, looking like a dummy. Like one of those kids that ask the most obvious questions during exams. Like one of those kids you want to sucker punch in the face.

“Sunwoo–”

“Well, Y/N-ie,” he purrs, the nickname making your hands curl up in fists, “that’s too bad… because I am the owner’s son, so… the rules don’t really apply to me, you see.”

And with that, he sends another sickeningly sweet smile your way before he turns on his heel and marches towards the front door again– not responding to any of your annoyed, infuriated calls of his name. He doesn’t stop at your warnings. He doesn’t care.

And just like that, he disappears just as fast as he appeared. The interaction didn’t last more than 10 minutes, but you consider your whole day ruined.

Fucking Sunwoo and his fucking privileges. And his fucking annoying face.

It’s not even that important. It’s just two posters that would get thrown out to the dumpster in the back at the end of your shift anyway. You don’t even care about those posters in particular– you just with equal rules applied to all workers in the workplace.

It’s not like Spiderman Homecoming is one of your favorite movies… not at all.

You could’ve had that poster. You deserved that poster. You sold tickets for it and served the snack booth when it premiered– not Kim Sunwoo and whatever his friend’s name was.

You kick the wall with your sneaker. It leaves a dirty mark.

You should’ve known the day felt too good to be true.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING (1993)

There’s a new thing Mr Kim is trying to lure more customers into the cinema. He calls it ‘Rewind Thursdays’, where he picks a movie from the past and airs it in the theater again to bring out nostalgia in the whole town. You think it’s a good idea– you remember when the Harry Potter movies had a rerun back when you were little, ecstatic that you finally got to see them in the cinema because you missed out on the experience when they were coming out for the first time. You went even though you saw them all before, and you had a blast. So in your books, this was the best thing that could happen to the little, old movie theater on the corner of the town’s square.

You were overbeared with joy when Mr Kim went up to you during one of your slow Wednesday shifts in the ticket booth with a paper and a pen, requesting you to write down your favorite movies. He informed you that he’d prefer it if they were older, to, quote, really get the nostalgia going, and you were happy to have some say in the list of movies to play for multiple reasons. One, because it meant he valued your opinion, and two, you don’t usually work on Thursdays, so if your favorite movie is on that day, you can go and relax in the cinema while watching it.

This all happened a few weeks ago. You gave the list back to your boss at the end of your shift, smiling brightly just thinking about it, and he told you he’ll get through it and see what he can incorporate.

The plan gets to you on one uneventful Wednesday. You are stuck in the ticket booth again. Today is one of the Wednesdays where Sunwoo is in charge, because Mr Kim is out of town. You hate those days most of them all, but recently, he’s been giving you your freedom and letting you work in the ticket booth instead of cleaning the already clean cinema, saying he has stuff to do in the back. You suspect he just sits around in his father’s office with his legs on the table, chewing on his obnoxious strawberry mints. The image makes you furious only the tiniest bit, because the fact that he’s out of your sight and isn’t ordering you around is enough to calm your nerves. It could always be worse, you remind yourself. It could always be worse.

“I have the schedule of ‘Rerun Thursdays’ all done,” Sunwoo says as he walks up to the ticket booth close to the end of your shift. His eyes look a little tired when he holds up a thick card to you, the design of the poster making your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Did he do that?

“It’s ‘Rewind Thursdays’, actually,” you note, pointing towards the very obvious mistake on the top of the poster.

“Oh fuck– you know what, not anymore,” he scowls, taking the poster back from you and pointing glares at the title he mistyped, “I spent 3 hours on this, I’m not remaking it.”

“It looks like a kindergartener did it,” you note, eyes scanning the bubbly font and the orange-yellow combination used throughout the whole design when he offers the paper back to you. It looks like a Winnie the Pooh convention is taking place instead of an event full of nostalgic movies, and you would tell him that, but he beats you to it with a tired remark.

“Well, if my father wanted this to look professional, he should’ve hired someone to do it,” he mutters, obviously hurt by your harsh words, “I used Canva. I don’t know how Photoshop works and my dad can barely operate the computer, so this is what we’re going with, okay?” he says as he explains, big eyes suddenly bearing into yours. “Unless you wanna redo it yourself…?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then this is the final poster,” he says, “I’m gonna hang those outside when we close,” he notes, watching you scan the movie titles. The event will take place in 4 weeks from the middle of November to the middle of December (right in time for Christmas movies to air, since you’re certain Mr Kim has another Christmas-themed business tactic up his sleeve).

“Did any of your movies make it?” Sunwoo asks, surprisingly friendly. You can’t remember a single casual conversation with the male– all you two do it either give each other the silent treatment or scream at each other (more like you scream at him, but he always deserves it…), so you’re kind of surprised at the change. Not pleasantly surprised. Just surprised.

Eyes falling to the second movie on the list, you feel yourself nodding as you smile. It’s like a dream come true– you can finally see your favorite movie in the cinema for the first time. You don’t know who to thank for this miracle, but something in your insides feels very grateful.

“Yeah,” you say, trying to seem unaffected. You’d rather kill yourself than to show any signs of emotion in front of Kim Sunwoo. All he deserves to see is your stone cold face.

“Which one?” he asks, seemingly interested.

“National treasure,” you hum, pointing to the movie on the list, having Sunwoo nod to himself. You expect him to say something to you– perhaps engage in a conversation like a normal person would– but suddenly, he gasps and takes out a folded piece of paper from his back pocket, offering it to you and playing the role of the manager again.

“Oh, by the way,” he starts, watching as you unfold the paper, “I know we don’t usually work on Thursdays, but since my dad decided to do all of this, we kinda have to, since he wouldn’t be able to handle the premieres on his own, so… Here's your schedule for the next 4 weeks,” he says, clasping his hands together in front of him.

It takes everything in you to not correct the male and tell him that those are technically not premieres, but when your eyes land on the little Excel table Sunwoo printed out for you, the feeling is overpowered with one of deep disappointment.

“I work the second week?” you ask, as if the question might magically change the schedule.

“I mean, I think you can read…” Sunwoo hums, shrugging to himself.

A heartbeat passes by of you staring at the schedule, a pit opening in your stomach at the realization. You only work 2 Thursdays out of 4, noticing the fact that you rotate with Sunwoo (with him somehow taking the first week, much to your surprise), but for some reason, one of those days had to be the day when National treasure is on.

And sure, you might think this is good– you can just watch the movie while you work!

Wrong.

Working means either staying in the ticket booth the whole time in case a customer comes, working the snack booth the whole time in case a customer comes, or cleaning the bathrooms. Working means also standing in front of the screening room sometimes, making sure no one is going in without a ticket in the middle of the movie.

There is no time for you to watch National treasure if you’re working.

Sighing, you decide to do something you always prohibited yourself from doing– you ask Kim Sunwoo for a favor. “Listen… my favorite movie is airing the week I work, so I was… wondering if we could exchange shifts? So I could go and watch it?” you ask, looking at your coworker with what you presume are pleading eyes. You hope it works on the boy– he looks like the type to fold under a tender gaze.

“So you want to get out of work only to still come?” Sunwoo clarifies, snickering.

“Pretty much, yeah,” you nod, tapping your fingers on the table.

“Well, the schedule is set,” Sunwoo shrugs, “I can’t do anything about it.”

Eyes sending darts to the very middle of Kim Sunwoo’s forehead, you take a few calming breaths before you speak up again. You don’t want to blow up on him when you’re asking him for a favor– you don’t think this approach would help you much in the situation.

“Why?”

“Because,” he shrugs.

“Because?” you repeat. “That’s the reason?” you say, a weak laugh dragging out of your throat.

“Pretty much, yeah,” he mirrors your previous response, the blood in your veins already growing hot from the confrontation.

“Sunwoo, you– come on,” you say, “just this once, please? I’ll take the first week. We can just switch, what’s the difference?”

Sunwoo tongues the inside of his cheek, eyes pointing towards the paper. “Schedule is schedule, Y/N. You have to follow it,” he says, an innocent look glazing his big fuckass boba eyes. Oh how you despise that look. It’s the look that tells you he finds this all so, so amusing, but won’t laugh in your face in hopes of teasing you some more.

“Oh, amazing,” you say, throwing the schedule to the table, “I knew I could always count on you ruining my day, Kim Sunwoo. And I bet you did the schedule as well! You knew it was my favorite movie, so you made me work that week. Very nice of you, you dumbass. Thank you very much,” you grunt, annoyance flowing through your brain and making you truly merciless– you have no proof of Sunwoo even knowing which movie of yours made it in, or proof of him making the schedule– you don’t care, though. All you want at this moment is to claw his eyes out and pop them in between your fingers to ease the anger on your insides.

You can’t do that, though, so a screaming match will have to do the job.

“Stop being so dramatic,” he scoffs, eyebrows furrowing. “I didn’t even know which one your favorite movie was, so how could I do this on purpose? Plus, I didn’t even make the schedule, my dad did–”

“As if I would believe that,” you roll your eyes, huffing. “You’re all owner’s son privileges this, owner’s son privileges that, but when I ask you for one thing, one! Single! Fucking! Thing! You can’t do it,” you bite, words dripping in spite.

“Look, I really can’t-”

“You can’t do this one thing for me?” you cut him off, the question sounding like an ultimatum.

“No,” he shakes his head, seemingly unaffected by the conversation.

“Because…?” you demand a valid reason.

“Because I just can’t,” he shrugs, casual and cool.

The world stills for a moment. You calculate your next move. Blood rushes in your ears, you see red. Your eyes fall on the clock– it’s 4 minutes after your shift. That’s it.

You take your coat draped over the chair, stand up from the chair and dash towards the front door. You can’t stand being around this man any longer– all he does is bring misery into your otherwise, already boring life.

Speedwalking out of the place, you yell out a harsh “Go fuck yourself!” over your shoulder, leaving Sunwoo to close the cinema by himself. You don’t even change out of your uniform before you go– your head is too clouded with anger to remember to do so. Cursing out your coworker isn’t the best thing you could do in this situation, more so when he’s the owner’s son, but suddenly, you don’t really care about losing your job at the cinema anymore.

Maybe you should quit yourself, actually.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – HOW TO LOSE A GUY IN 10 DAYS (2003)

In your books, there aren’t many things worse than working three days in a row. You can only think of so many even when you try hard enough: like going to school in your pajamas, getting sick on the day of an important event, ripping your pants on the metro, standing outside of the cinema in a popcorn costume for 4 hours…

Yeah. Not too many.

So naturally, on the third day of your work week, putting one sweetened coffee into your stomach after another, barely keeping your head up from the lack of sleep you’re getting in between classes, work, and writing your essays until 3 in the morning, you beg god for a calm shift. It’s Wednesday, the first week of Mr Kim’s ‘Rewind Thursdays’ event, and it just so happened that you were set to work the first half of the week while Sunwoo got the other half.

The only thing keeping you going is the fact that you and Sunwoo will now basically not see each other’s face for the next four weeks– with the exception of Fridays and Saturdays, the premiere days. You’re getting a lot of shifts this month, but hey… Christmas is coming. At least you’ll have plenty of money to buy gifts for everyone this year. (Or not. You’re very underpaid.)

Entertaining yourself by watching the world outside of your window and mentally betting on the race of raindrops falling down the glass surface– because your phone battery almost ran out during class this morning and you forgot to bring your charger with you– you hope you don’t fall asleep right in this moment. Your boss is somewhere inside and if he oh just happens to check up on you (which he never normally does, but you can never be too sure), you’re certain you’d lose your job after taking a nap in the ticket booth. Some things just can’t be accepted.

Cat fights with his son? Perfectly acceptable. Sleeping on the clock? Not so much…

Eyes drooping when the third raindrop race doesn’t go the way you bet on in your head, you figure you can just rest for a second or two… Eyelids shielding your irises from the orange hues of the lights inside, your brain already turning off and preparing a happy dream for you, you think that taking a nap is not such a bad idea right now…

Wrong.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” the noise of a thunder– actually, no, that was just someone’s voice– wakes you up and makes you jump in your chair, your knee hitting the bottom of the table making you hiss in sharp pain.

“Fuck, man–”

“Didn’t know taking a nap was in the job description,” Sunwoo grins at you through the glass window of the booth. His eyes twinkle in amusement as you drag your hand through your hair, trying to smoothe it down after tousling it in your weird sleeping position.

“I wasn’t sleeping,” you mutter, not even meeting his eye.

“Oh?”

“Yeah… just had… my eyes closed…” you hum, scratching the back of your neck. Clearing your throat, you look back up at him with an disinterested look on your face. “Anyways, what do you want? You’re off today.”

Scanning his figure, fully taking in his appearance– the fabric of his dark gray hoodie a little stained with raindrops (you bet he ran from his car into the building without an umbrella. He seems like the type to be embarrassed about umbrellas.), the fabric of the garment enveloping his head and shading his face a little from the ugly yellow lights. His face is a little flushed– you presume it’s from the running– and his hair is falling into his face. You can barely see his eyes behind the curtain of chocolate locks– he really needs a trim.

“Damn, didn’t know you hated me so much that you can’t stand seeing me on my off days,” he jokes, leaning on the counter as if to stick his face as close as he can into yours. Thank god for the glass shielding you two– you think you’d give him a fist to the nose if you ever felt his breathing on your skin.

“I do,” you agree, impatiently drumming your fingers on the top of the table, “so tell me what you want so you can disappear again,” you say.

“I just went to check up on whether you were sleeping or not so I can tell my dad to fire you–”

“Kim Sunwoo–”

He puts his arms up defensively, eyebrows raising at your threatening tone. “Okay, not really. I don’t actually care that much. Besides, you promised to quit yourself anyway, so,” he explains, shrugging to himself, “believe it or not, I’m here to buy tickets for a movie.”

You shoot him a stare, the look in your eyes dead, stone cold as you ponder on his words. It’s cold outside, it’s raining, and Kim Sunwoo just happens to decide to buy tickets for a movie today. In a cinema that he works at. In a cinema that he works at tomorrow.

“You work tomorrow…?” you mirror your inner monologue, kind of confused at the turn of events.

“You know my schedule? I’m flattered–”

The irritation is slowly creeping into your bones again. Actually, it has been since he arrived, but the more he talks, the more agitating the whole encounter feels. Maybe you should tape his mouth shut the next time you see him– you bet the day would be so much better if you don’t have to listen to him talk.

“Why don’t you just buy the tickets tomorrow when you work? Didn’t have to walk here in the rain,” you explain, sighing to prove just how annoyed you are with his presence.

“Because I kinda need them today,” he says, clarifying to you with the tone you use when you explain mundane things to a child.

You don’t know what he did in his past life to get the ability to annoy you each and every time you meet him, but you’d like some of it to get back at him in your next life. Why you’re even thinking of past lives and the possibility of meeting Kim Sunwoo in your next one, you’re not really certain, but if it helps you to not smash the glass separating you two, you guess you can get behind the thought process.

“Okay,” you nod, painfully calm for the amount of screaming you’ve been doing internally, “what movie?” you ask, turning your body to the computer on your right and breaking eye contact with him. If he’s a customer, you’re going to treat him like one– no small talk and no arguments. You won’t ruin your day even more over a man that doesn’t know what chapstick is. (You don’t stare at his lips, just for the record. It’s just painfully obvious when he talks. Sometimes you want to reach over and pluck away the dead skin with your fingers– you won’t, though. That would be weird.)

Sunwoo straightens his back as he fishes for his wallet in the front pocket of his jeans. “National Treasure,” he smiles, making you break into cold sweat, “two tickets, please.”

Like a scene in a horror movie, your head turns without moving the rest of your body, eyes twitching when you see him standing at the other side of the booth, calm and collected. Suddenly, the scene makes sense– he bought the tickets to see your favorite movie on the day of your shift. Of course. He just has to rub it in your face.

Not only are you working that day. You will also most likely serve popcorn to him as he goes inside with whoever he is buying the second ticket for. And you will try not to trip him on his way inside the screening room.

It was a smart move for him to not go inside the ticket booth with you, even though he has all the right to. You bet he knows you’d claw his eyes out if you had the chance.

“You have to be kidding me.”

“What? I can’t buy tickets for a movie?” he asks, innocence dripping off his tongue.

Breathing deeply– while trying to contain the demon that’s begging to crawl out of your insides and tear him into 25 different pieces– you smile ironically at the male, gulping before you speak. “That would be 12 dollars, please,” you say, your customer service voice turning kind of eerie.

Not even letting the male choose his seats– he lost the privilege when he decided to come and buy the tickets for your favorite movie– you print out two tickets with the worst possible view (the ones in the first row, far right. If Sunwoo loses his neck because he has to look up at the screen for the entirety of the movie, well, who are you to hate that) and offer them to your coworker.

Like a mind game, the male slips them into his pocket without even looking at them, not breaking eye contact with you sitting behind the booth.

“Have a nice day,” he says as he takes two steps back before fully turning and escaping through the front door, figure dashing towards the old Prius parked in front of the building.

Bawling your hands into fists, you try the breathing exercises you found the other week. Calm your body and your mind, the title said. You knew you’d need those when you saved the post into one of your boards on Pinterest.

Still, you can’t help yourself. You simply cannot. You let it out– it’s not healthy to keep negativity inside.

He can’t hear you, but you still mutter a spiteful “I hope you choke,” under your breath as you settle back into the uncomfortable surface of the chair.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – YOU’VE GOT MAIL (1998)

Remember the time you said you didn’t really mind having more shifts in November, because it meant a bigger paycheck? Yeah… that was true. For a few days.

Until you got a phone call one day from none other than Kim Sunwoo– whose number you didn’t even want to save into your contacts, but after his insisting that it’s for work purposes, did so under the name ‘dumpster raccoon’– telling you that you have to get to work immediately, that his dad said so, and that it’s an emergency.

Do you believe him? No. Absolutely not.

His tone of voice was too calm to be in an emergency. If his dad wanted you to come to work today, he could’ve called you himself instead of making his son do it. And also, you really don’t know what’s so important to take care of on a Wednesday, since it’s the slow day of the week, but still– you angrily took off the facemask from your face before the timer even went off, shut your laptop with a half-watched episode of The office in your Netflix window, changed out of your comfy clothes and marched towards the cinema.

Because you never know. He might be saying the truth, after all. And if that was the case, you didn’t want to be caught disobeying your boss.

You get to the old movie theater on the corner of the town center at 4 in the afternoon. The sky is already getting dark and you feel the coldness of November seeping into your bones, and so you waste no time in getting inside and chasing the heat of the vintage-looking interior. Your boots make a thudding sound as you walk across the hall, seeing Sunwoo sitting in the ticket booth in his usual habitat: with his phone in his hands and his feet up on the table, chewing on his favorite strawberry mints. Now this sight screams emergency if you’ve ever seen one.

“What was so important for you to call me to work and then chill in the ticket booth all afternoon?” you ask, spite slipping off your tongue with every word you speak.

Sunwoo looks up at you from under his eyelashes, hair still slightly shielding his eyes. He doesn’t even have his uniform on– there’s a gray hoodie enveloping his torso (you swear he lives in this garment. You wonder if he even washes it sometimes) and black jeans hanging off his hips– and the more you stare at him, the more you feel like punching him in the face.

“Oh,” he hums, stretching out his limbs from the hours of sitting on the chair unmoving, “dad said to tell you to clean the screening room. Since it’s Thursday tomorrow, and all.”

The look on his face is innocent. He looks like he just told you the most casual piece of information– and truth be told, he kind of did. The whole thing is just not making any sense right now.

“I should clean the screening room today? You’re on the clock, though, why don’t you do it?” you ask, frustration clearly written all over your face. You were looking forward to having a self-care day today, so you can only imagine how tired of his endeavors you are right in this moment.

“Yeah, but I am on ticket booth duty, so I can’t,” he shrugs, frowning a little to prove his nonexistent point.

“It’s Wednesday. It’s not busy. You know you can do both.”

“Look, it’s not me, it’s my dad–”

“Is it? Is it, Sunwoo?” you huff, arms flying into the air. “Or are you just using me to do the work you don’t feel like doing? Because it really does seem like that right now,” you bite, running your hand through your hair in exasperation.

“Do you want me to call him?” Sunwoo asks, tone of voice suddenly threatening.

A heartbeat passes. You continue to have a staring contest with him. The fury inside of you rages like a storm. Still, you nod to the feeling of authority coming from your actual boss, and so you wordlessly turn on your heel and march towards the screening room, ready to clean the place in the least amount of time so you can go home and back to your selfcare endeavors. (You’re adding printing out Sunwoo’s face and throwing darts at it to the list of activities. You think you really need that right now.)

The screening room is dark when you come inside, and as you reach towards the lightswitch, you almost fear something jumping at you. See, the traumatic response from being locked up in the toilet from your coworker is still very present in your bones. When you stop working here, you’re going to ask for financial compensation for all the damage this boy did on your mental health.

You walk down the aisle of seats and try to inspect the damage. No movies air on Wednesday and there was only one kids movie going on Tuesday, so you can either expect it to be almost clean, or full of snacks that fell off the hands of grabby children during the cartoon. The more you inspect the place, though, the more it seems like… somebody already cleaned it before?

The floor is clean. The laminated surface under the seats has no smudge of dirt on it, like someone already mopped the place. And when you think back, the bins were empty as well.

The screening room was definitely cleaned before.

Which means that Sunwoo brought you here for absolutely nothing.

Suddenly, the lights go out. The whole room falls into darkness, and the anger inside of your veins very quickly mixes with panic as you try to climb up the stairs on the side of the screening room and escape. Your throat gets dry as you yell for your coworker, not really caring if your next outburst is going to get you fired or not.

“Kim Fucking Sunwoo, why the fuck did you call me to clean an already cleaned screening room?!” you yell, not really knowing if he hears you or not. Doesn’t matter– it feels cathartic to do so anyway.

Your feet stumble on the awkwardly-long stairs, your figure almost falling to the ground. Managing to hold yourself up and steady your body before your head hits the sharp corner of one of the stairs and makes you die, you continue on with your small tangent. “You really think this is funny? You’re having fun pranking me all the time? I hate your guts, Kim Sunwoo, and I hope you burn in hell!”

A bright light suddenly illuminates the screening room, coming from somewhere behind you. When you look over your shoulder, the screen is white for a few moments before the opening credits of a Jerry Buckheimer film flash on the big surface, halting you in your movements. The sound is a little too loud in the speakers, but it gets adjusted the moment you almost lose your hearing. The moment you see Nicolas Cage appear, it’s clear as day.

There’s a movie playing. And the movie playing is National treasure.

You think you’re hallucinating. This is surely a fata morgana.

Standing in the middle of the screening room, your mouth hangs agape and your eyes go wide as you watch the first few scenes of the movie. Ben Gates already learns about the hidden treasure passed down through American history when you feel a slight nudge to your shoulder, making you turn your head to see a tall figure staring you down with a bucket of popcorn in their hands.

You are confused. So utterly confused. The movie was on last week. You’d know– you worked the snack booth that day. The screening room is empty and it’s Wednesday– what’s going on?

“Can you sit? Or are you just going to watch the movie standing in the aisle,” Sunwoo grunts, balancing the big bucket of popcorn and two drinks in his large hands, the sight comical and almost making you want to watch him suffer some more.

Caught off guard, though, you let him back you into the aisle of seats, your figure slouching into one of the red cushions like a rag doll. Sunwoo takes place next to you, placing the big bucket of popcorn into your lap, before he settles into a seat as well and focuses his eyes and attention on the movie.

“What… what is this?” you ask, frozen in the seat.

“Hm?” Sunwoo frowns, looking at you. “National treasure,” he hums, “I thought you’d know, since you threw a scene about it that one time.”

“I- I know that, I just…” you trail off, still surprised at the turn of events, “what’s going on right now…?”

“We’re watching National treasure,” he notes, talking to you as if you were slow.

“What…?”

A sigh escapes Sunwoo’s lips at your utter confusion, his hand coming up to the bucket of popcorn in your lap and throwing a handful of the snack into his mouth before speaking. “Look, Y/N. You said you wanted to watch your favorite movie in the cinema, so that’s what you’re doing. Enjoy my owner’s son privileges for once,” he shrugs, watching as your face morphs into an unreadable expression.

That explanation satisfies you for a bit. The shock in your insides, though? Still present.

There’s something about the whole gesture that makes your stomach feel uneasy. Sunwoo did something nice for you– out of the kindness of his own heart– and you really don’t know why he would even think of something like this. You two aren’t on the best terms either, after all. Maybe he finally went crazy.

Or maybe you did and this was all the result of your imagination. Either or.

Yeah, you must be the one that’s gone batshit insane. Surely. You’re certain of the fact when you reach for the popcorn and accidentally touch his hand, the two of you deciding to get some at the same time, and your stomach does a flip and your brain makes a sign for you to quickly retract your hand– but the feeling of his slightly cold hand against your fingertips is now engraved into your memory and won’t leave and let you focus on the movie no matter how hard you try.

“You wouldn’t have to do this if you just let me switch schedules with you that time,” you note, “just saying.”

“I couldn’t,” he shrugs.

“Huh? But you bought two tickets..?”

“Yeah, but those were for my friends. I had to drive my mum down to grandmas that day, so I couldn’t go or take your shift that day,” he hums, not once breaking eye contact with the screen.

“If you would’ve just said so, I wouldn’t have made a scene about it–”

“Yeah… but I enjoy watching you make a scene,” he grins, shifting his attention towards you for a second with that lazy smirk playing with his lips. His hair is falling into his eyes and you have the urge to get it out of his face with a motion of your hand while also scolding him like a mother to finally get a haircut, just so you could see the twinkle in his mischievous orbs.

“You need to get serious help, then,” you grunt, pointing your gaze back towards the screen, unable to look at his face for any longer. He’s being annoying again. You’re annoyed.

“Probably,” he admits.

You two sit in silence for a while, the only sound accompanying you being the movie playing out on the big screen in front of you. You think this is the calmest you two have ever been around each other, and you’re starting to think that if Sunwoo just didn’t talk, you two could even get along.

Something touches the side of your thigh in the darkness of the room. Eyes darting to the source, you notice Sunwoo’s thigh pressing against yours, the cause of his obnoxious man-spreading, and something about the closeness of his body and the smell of his citrusy cologne makes you feel like your chest is heaving in on itself. You can’t stand him around you. You two can’t share this close of a space.

“Are you not leaving?” you ask.

“No,” he hums, “should I be?”

“Well, you’re on the clock…”

The man snickers, shaking his head in disbelief. “Y/N, you and I both know that the possibility of someone coming to buy a ticket on a Wednesday afternoon is close to zero. Me being there makes no difference in today’s sales.”

His hand knocks into yours again as you reach for more popcorn. You gulp, nodding. “Right…”

“And I wanted to see the movie to see if it’s really that good to make a scene about it,” he teases, another playful look sent your way from the corner of his eye.

You grunt, rolling your eyes. Oh how you hate his guts…

And even though you love the movie, you pray for it to end quickly. The more time you spend with Sunwoo forced into your zone of comfort, the more uncomfortable you feel– even the slightest movement of his body affects you and makes your brain turn on overdrive. It’s strange and it’s weird, and you don’t understand how hatred for a person could manifest in such reactions.

It’s better that you didn’t notice you two sitting in the love seat. God knows you wouldn’t handle that well. You’d rather die than to hold on to that knowledge.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – CLUELESS (1995)

They say that you only start realizing just how stupid people can be when you work in customer service. As one of the only three employees of the small, vintage cinema on the corner of the town’s square, you can only agree with the sentiment– you have a lot of stories to tell about the wonders of the human brain.

Like that one time you got screamed at because the movie tickets were ‘too expensive’ – because naturally, you should be able to change the price of them when asked. Or that one time you got screamed at because the movie tickets were sold out– because naturally, you should add more seats to the screening room just for the two middle-aged women to sit on during the premiere of the newest Orlando Bloom movie. Or when somebody yelled at you for the toilets being full after the movie– naturally, you are supposed to throw people out in the middle of them peeing. Or build new stalls. Either or.

They say that you only start realizing just how stupid people can be when you work in customer service, but truly, you also realize just how rude they can also be for no reason at all.

Much like today. It’s Friday, which means it’s premiere night. The tickets to all movies this week are sold out already, so no one is on ticket booth duty, and much to your relief, Mr Kim took the snack stand himself. Your responsibility for the day is scanning the tickets and then making sure no one is getting inside during the movie without a ticket.

It’s not a hard job. Not at all– you would even say nothing about working in the cinema is hard, when you don’t have an annoying coworker trying to make your whole life a living hell– but you see, customers love to make your job harder just by being unreasonably rude about things that are clearly out of your control.

“Sir, I really can’t let you in, I’m sorry,” you say, tone of voice polite despite screaming on the inside. In front of you is standing a tall man, maybe a few years older than you, the expression on his face full of anger and vexation. They say a customer is always right. You agree only when the customer looks like they could wait for you after work and beat you up in the bushes. Sadly, that still doesn’t mean you can let the man inside without a valid ticket.

“What do you mean? Little one, I’m telling you I bought the ticket here, so if you don’t let me in–”

“All tickets purchased for the screening should be able to scan through this, sir, and if it doesn’t work, I am not allowed to let you inside of the cinema,” you try to explain, getting kind of desperate. The line behind him was forming and the movie was supposed to play in a few minutes, so if you wanted to scan all the tickets in time, you had to be quick.

He wouldn’t budge, though. His eyebrows are furrowed and the guy behind him seems to be getting angry as well, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up alert, like a cat when it senses danger. You try your hardest to keep your tone firm, hands clasped politely behind your back. “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, sir, or maybe check in with the owner about the issue? I don’t have the competence to–”

“Listen, I won’t be talking to anyone, because you will let me in, okay?”

“Sir, I can’t-”

Your sentence is cut off by the man again, his fury making you take a step backwards in fear. “And if you don’t, you will see the consequences.”

Gulping, you try to think of a way to get out of this situation. Mr Kim is too far away for you to call, and he is also busy– the line is long and Sunwoo isn’t working today. It’s just the two of you today, so your options are getting slimmer. You can’t let that man in without a working ticket– it seems like the one he’s showing you is either a fake one, or bought in another cinema– but it seems like if you don’t, he’ll have you dead before the next morning.

“So?”

Opening your mouth to answer (although your brain is still empty and you don’t even know what more to say), a low voice coming from behind you startles you in the middle of your crisis. “Is there a problem here?”

Turning your head to the source of the voice, you’ve never been more relieved to see Kim Sunwoo in your close proximity. You watch as he puts a rolled-up poster to the ground behind you before he takes another step closer towards your figure, his expression stone cold and glaring at the man in front of you.

“Your coworker here won’t let me in to watch the movie,” he complains, hand waving around in a threatening way.

Just having Sunwoo around makes you more confident. Clearing your throat, your eyes dart to your coworker, seeing his face morph into irritation. “It won’t scan his ticket, so…”

“If it won’t scan your ticket, it means it’s invalid and we’re not allowed to let you in,” Sunwoo says, tone of voice way less polite than the one you were using before.

“That’s ridiculous-”

“You are ridiculous,” Sunwoo grunts, annoyance clearly written all over his face. “You were asked to leave, so maybe you should.”

Truth be told, you’ve been in a couple of arguments with Sunwoo before. In none of them has he ever looked and sounded like this, though. You and Sunwoo argue with spite– sparks flying waiting to start a fire, curses and harsh words thrown around carelessly in moments of heated hatred. His tone is stern, but never threatening. Never mean. Not in the way he’s being right now.

It makes you stare at him wordlessly. He seems to be taking the lead in the situation, reacting territorially to the man in front of him. You can’t say you don’t feel safer with him around– you would be lying.

“Maybe you could just let me in and get this over with–”

“And maybe you could fuck off,” Sunwoo says back, something in his tone making your stomach feel all light. He looks serious, standing his ground, and the man finally seems to get the memo that he’s not watching the premiere tonight, because he backs off and grits his teeth at the male.

“Your boss will hear about this,” he threatens, making Sunwoo chuckle.

“I’m sure he will.”

Sympathetic looks are thrown your way from the women in the line behind that can finally come up to you so you scan their tickets. You smile at each one and try to seem unaffected by the exchange, but the memory of it still lingers in your brain and doesn’t make you rest easy as you greet the rest of the customers.

You didn’t even realize Sunwoo was still standing next to you, watching you work. He seems to recognise your shaken-up composure, tone of voice sympathetic and quiet as he asks: “You okay?”

“What?” you ask, surprised by the question, “oh. Yeah, I’m fine. He was just… being a bitch, the usual.”

“Yeah,” he snickers, “why didn’t you just scream at him like you do to me? I bet that would scare him away,” he notes, making you roll your eyes at the comment.

“Because he looked like he could beat me up, Sunwoo.”

“And I don’t?” he gasps, suddenly offended.

You scan the boy up and down, pretending to think it over for a few before you shake your head. “No,” you shrug, “I could beat you up.”

“Excuse you?” he gasps, crossing his arms at his chest in a defensive stance, the shock on his face mixing in with amusement.

“Don’t believe me? Wanna try?” you test, the conversation suddenly flowing freely, without you even noticing. You don’t pay it much thought, but you guess getting along with Sunwoo is easier when he’s on your side. Most of the time, he’s not, though– and maybe that’s the problem.

“Okay,” he nods, “meet me in the back when you’re off. No weapons allowed, we’ll do it the street style. This is a battle of fists,” he points a finger at you, the sentence making you sigh dreamily and point your eyes towards the ceiling.

“You can’t even imagine how long I’ve been waiting for this moment.”

Sunwoo smiles at that– that dumb, boyish smile you usually so despise– and shakes his head at your antics. The conversation dies down a bit after the exchange– with you scanning the tickets and trying your hardest to make it through the line before the movie starts, when your coworker, dressed in none other than his signature gray hoodie and black jeans, nudges you with his elbow. “Want me to stay for a bit, or are you good now?”

“I can take care of myself, Sunwoo,” you sigh, “you can go about your day.”

“Well, it didn’t seem like it a few minutes ago–”

“I can take care of myself when I’m not confronted with a tall muscled man that is threatening me, Sunwoo,” you repeat, looking at the rest of the line, “so with him gone now, you can go about your day. What are you even doing here, by the way? I thought you were off today.”

“I am,” he nods, rocking a little in his place, shifting weight from his heels towards his toes, “I was just… here to drop off something for you,” he says, clearing his throat and pointing towards the poster he was holding when he first approached you, the shiny tube now resting against the nearest wall.

You shoot the boy a curious look, eyebrows furrowed in question. You don’t get to ask for clarification about the character of the poster, because he abruptly cuts off your train of thought, speaking fast as if to avoid making any more conversation with you. “I’ll see you in the back after you’re done for that fist fight, then. Bye!”

And before you get a chance to say anything back, Sunwoo swiftly turns on his heel and awkwardly marches towards the front door. You don’t have much time to inspect the thing he dropped off for you, but after you’re done with scanning the tickets and have time to breathe when the movie starts, you allow yourself to peek inside–

only to see a National treasure poster staring back at you, surface glossy and glimmering, as if you just opened a chest full of gold.

As you take the poster to the staff room with you (while also wearing a huge, embarrassing grin on your face for someone staring at the face of Nicolas Cage), making sure it’s safe and sound until you can bring it home with you, you wonder why you haven’t been civil with Kim Sunwoo before.

It’s good to have a taste of his owner’s son privileges sometimes.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – ME BEFORE YOU (2016)

The day is Friday, the 1st of December. Mr Kim’s ‘Rewind Thursdays' event is over and while Fridays are always the premiere days, meaning you usually have to work the evenings either in the snack booth or in the ticket booth, your boss told you you can have the night off under one condition– you come in the morning (since you told him your classes are done for the semester, he’s been keen on making you work at random times of the day) and help Sunwoo with Christmas decorations in the cinema.

And, well, who are you to say no to a free evening? Maybe you can finally have that self-care time you’ve been needing before your exam season starts.

“Can you get the ladder from the back?” Sunwoo asks, tone of voice not at all interested. You don’t know what the reasoning behind his mood is, but you figure it’s either the fact that he had to get up before 12, or the fact that he doesn’t really seem like the type to like decorating.

“Why don’t you get it?” you huff, wiping your forehead off the sweat that’s cumulated on it over the time you spent bringing out all the boxes full of decorations out of the staff room. “I brought everything in, maybe you can do some work for once.”

One would think your dynamics with Kim Sunwoo would shift after he’s been nice to you on multiple occasions. And sure, you don’t really fight with him as often and he hasn’t pulled a prank on you in a while, but some days, his whole presence is still just as annoying to you as it’s been for the past couple of months. There’s not really much you can do about it– especially not when he’s bossing you around and not doing any actual work himself.

“I built the christmas tree,” he grunts, opening one of the boxes full of ornaments, squinting at the contains with disgust on his face. “And I put up all the other useless stuff before you got here too,” he says, pointing a glare at you.

Looking around the theater, you notice various types of decorations all over the place. There’s some mistletoe hanging off the ceiling (which has you wondering how he even got it there in the first place) and garlands framing all the doorways– the greenery making the whole place decorated in a very vintage tone. It’s fitting to the theme of the cinema, though, and you can tell that Sunwoo really can’t be arsed to do any better, so you don’t mention it out loud in favor of avoiding another one of your petty cat fights.

Admitting your defeat, you storm back into the staff room and carry out the tall ladder, struggling to fit through the doorways and to cross the corners, praying to all higher forces that you don’t accidentally scratch off pieces of the wall on your way to Sunwoo.

You put down the metal construction with a loud thud, making the boy look up at you from beneath his bangs, the silent curse evident in his eyes. You don’t know what’s up with him, but again, you won’t ask. You try to tell yourself that you don’t really care either, but with every glance towards his direction, the question keeps bugging you and dancing around your brain.

You force yourself not to care.

Watching as he tries to untangle the Christmas lights, struggle evident in the frustration written all over his face, you sigh and walk over to him, taking the bundle of wire out of his hands and threading your skilled fingers through the lengthy cable. You’re an expert in untangling– you don’t own bluetooth headphones, so you do this pretty much every day before listening to some music. Your headphones love to tangle in your pocket no matter how neatly you try to keep them in your pants– it’s a mystery. Almost like the Bermuda triangle.

“I can do it myself,” Sunwoo huffs, eyebrows furrowing when he watches you work your magic.

“You seemed like it too,” you ironically note, letting the spiteful side of you win, enjoying yourself when you’re rewarded by the snarky roll of Sunwoo’s eyes– everything is back to normal. You two aren’t friends, you don’t like to be in each other’s presence, and no number of shiny stolen posters and private sessions in the screening room will ever change that.

“Hold this,” you say, thrusting the end of the cord into his hand, walking a few meters away from him as you detangle the lights, watching as he impatiently stomps the floor with his heel, reminding you of Snowball from The secret life of pets movie.

When you’re done and the Christmas lights are now a straight line of wire, you slowly walk over to the tall tree in the middle of the room, wrapping the lights around the fake forest-green needles. You’re glad that the lights are long enough to cover the whole thing and you don’t have to untangle another ones, and when you’re done, you watch your coworker plug them in, examining the small, colorful light bulbs.

“Okay, now the ornaments,” you say, more to yourself than to anybody in the room, as you waltz over to the boxes and take out the decorations varying in shapes and sizes. You don’t really know what color scheme Mr Kim wants you to go for– and you doubt Sunwoo is aware either, so you just take out the ornaments you find the most pretty and hang them all over the tree, making sure each branch is covered.

Sunwoo stands around for a while, unmoving as he watches you, before he sighs to himself and finally decides to help. You leave him be, thinking that it’s for the best if you two don’t speak today when he’s in such a bad mood, but you break that promise almost immediately when you stare back at the tree after retrieving some more ornaments from the box to your right and notice the almost painful clash of colors.

You should’ve known you can’t trust a man with decorating. The beautiful contrast of the baby pink and brown ornaments you put on the tree is now ruined by the green ones you intentionally left on the bottom of the box. The colors don’t go together at all and you want to claw your eyes out every second you have to stare at it.

“Sunwoo, those colors don’t go together at all,” you say, point and blank– no sugarcoating, no offensive words, just straight facts.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, that tree looks terrifying, and it’s all because you ruined it,” you say.

Okay, maybe you are overreacting just the slightest. But isn’t there fun in making your coworker completely out of his mind? Is this your roles being reversed for the first time? Are you finally winning this little game?

Nevertheless, you are enjoying the outburst that follows from Sunwoo. Mainly because he looks like a child throwing a tantrum as he huffs and takes off the green ornaments he put on to the tree and throws the handful back into the cardboard box, not really caring if they break or not. You’ll be replaying this scene in your head forever before you go to sleep, for the absolute frustration and annoyance on his face is one of your biggest trophies. Right now, though, you’re battling the urge to laugh.

“Fine, do it yourself, then,” Sunwoo says as he walks away from the tree, choosing to sit on the floor cross-legged, taking out his phone and scrolling through social media.

Again, you don’t know what’s gotten into him today, but you force yourself not to care. You have a job to finish here so you can go home and enjoy your day, and that’s why exactly you just shrug and finish putting on the pretty ornaments, admiring your work every once in a while when you take a break and stare on the tall tree, kind of breathless from the beauty.

You’re not really big on Christmas, but you must admit that this is fun.

The sound of Sunwoo swiping through Instagram reels is the only thing accompanying your actions, and as you look over your shoulder and see his almost sad face, you bite your lip just to not ask him what’s the matter. You’re not supposed to care. And you don’t.

“Can’t you put some festive music on?” you ask instead, your lips just begging to have a conversation with the male, despite your best judgment.

“No,” Sunwoo barks back, not even taking his eyes off the phone as the sound of the reel changes into another one, a swipe of his thumb across the screen showing him another video.

Nodding to yourself, you carefully try to pick out your next words. Not really sure how to address the male, you choose to approach him with a hint of humor you’re not sure he’ll appreciate. “What’s up with you? You’re bitchier than usual,” you say, scanning the male with cautious eyes.

Sunwoo stops for a while– a millisecond of him halting his scrolling, an action you wouldn’t notice if you weren’t trying to see any shift in his composure– before he speaks up again. “Nothing,” he shrugs.

“Okay,” you say, a tone of voice full of doubt.

When you conclude that you’re not getting more answers out of him, you nod to yourself and dart back towards the Christmas tree, making sure you make more eye contact with the glossy ornaments than with your coworker sitting behind you on the ground. Not much time passes by before he speaks up again, though, tone of voice quiet and hesitant.

“I’m just not in the mood today,” he sighs, “I have a final next week and it’s stressing me out, I haven’t slept well in quite a few days, my dad’s making me work more than usual and on top of that, I absolutely hate winter.”

“You hate winter?” you choose to focus on the least serious topic of the little rant, not really knowing when your boundaries lay in discussing the more serious ones.

“Yeah,” Sunwoo chuckles, “it’s like a shittier fall. It’s cold and dark all the time. It would be different if it snowed, though. I love it when it snows.”

Snickering at his sudden confession, you shake your head. “You’re like a little kid.”

“I remember you calling me a child once,” Sunwoo hums in agreement.

“That was different,” you say, hoping to cheer the male up at least a bit with your usual quarrel.

“I figured by the way you threw the toilet brush to my chest,” Sunwoo laughs, the memory of torturing you fond in his brain. The poster he gave you almost made you forget about the fact that he managed to make your life a living hell for quite some time– maybe you should consider this a wake-up call.

The conversation quiets down for a bit, even the sound of Sunwoo’s Instagram reels discontinued as you two marvel in the now much more comfortable silence. Testing the waters, you clear your throat before speaking up again. “Don’t worry about that exam, by the way. I’m sure you’ll do well.”

“How would you know?”

“You’re clever. You need to be clever to come up with all various ways to make my life more miserable,” you say, smiling when you hear him let out a breath of air through his nose, signaling a silent laugh.

“Any advice on the sleepless nights?” he asks, tone of voice light and humorous.

“Less things in your head,” you hum, putting the last ornament onto one of the branches, satisfied with your work. “Or melatonin.”

“Noted,” he nods, sharing a smile with you.

Walking over to the boxes stored a few feet away from the male, you open up the slim one thrown on the side, holding up the star. Your eyes meet his, a carefree twinkle in your orbs when you try to cheer up the boy’s inner child by doing a child's favorite activity. “Do you want to put the star on?”

He fails you, though. “No.”

“Why not?”

“You decorated it all yourself, so you can do the star,” he shrugs, not really into your idea.

“Oh come on–”

“I don’t feel like standing up,” Sunwoo grunts, the joy on your insides finally dying down when you get a taste of his usual composure– the one that really can’t be arsed with anything.

Sighing to yourself, you waltz over to the tall ladder, and despite your biggest worries, you continue climbing up the metal construction even when it wobbles and makes you fear you’re gonna fall. The whole thing is kind of unsteady and makes your heart thump in your throat, but you choose to get it over with and finally climb to the very top, outstretching your arm and putting the star on top of the tree, the decoration process now done and freeing you off your today’s work responsibilities.

Something akin to satisfaction beams in your insides as you climb down the ladder, and now, you’ll write this off to you being a little too excited with the vision of a face mask and popcorn at home– but your leg slips on one of the steps and despite the ladder being now magically steady, your body comes crashing down to the floor.

A yelp fights out of your throat, hands go flying in a desperate need to steady yourself or hold on to something that would make you not fall hard against the marble floor, when a miracle straight down from heaven comes to rescue in a form of flesh holding you up and shielding you from the fall, a grunt landing in your ears when your body settles into soft fabric of dark gray.

Head snapping to the source of the arms around your waist, surprised at the person’s strength used to balance you two on your feet as you fell (well, your knees buckled, but still, they haven’t yet hit the ground), you notice a pair of chocolate orbs staring down at you through a curtain of dark hair, wide eyes scanning your face and breathing out a puff of air.

“Look where you’re stepping next time, for fuck’s sake,” Sunwoo huffs, watching as your brain tries to process the near-death experience.

Registering his arms firmly placed around your waist (now realizing the soft fabric was the hoodie he’s been living in for the past few months), the citrusy scent of his cologne makes your head spin, eyes scanning his face in quick motions, as if not aware of who was your savior. You wonder how he even got to you on time (not really noticing him walking over to the ladder as soon as he saw it wobbling under you, holding it down to keep you from toppling over), and when your eyes curiously gaze at his chapped, yet plush lips, the warmth in your stomach makes you finally snap out of it.

Untangling yourself out of his limbs, much like you did with the Christmas lights a few minutes ago, you clear your throat and try to get your breathing back to normal. Your knees are a little weak, but you write that off to the shock of falling.

“This wouldn’t have happened if you just agreed to put the star on,” you complain, straightening your clothes as you walk over to the empty boxes nearby, stacking them into one another and avoiding all possible eye contact with the male.

It’s working– at least that’s what you keep telling yourself– up until you hear him chuckle and see a pair of hands taking the tower of boxes out of your hold, a charming grin sent your way as he walks away from you to the staff room. “If you say so.”

Okay, so it’s not working.

You’re fucked.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – THE PROPOSAL (2009)

“So… I was thinking,” Sunwoo starts one day, a bundle of rolled-up posters stacked up in his arms like a pyramid, puffs of cold air making clouds appear in front of his face as he speaks, “would you want to go see a movie with me?” he asks, tone of voice casual, as if he was asking you about the weather.

The poster you’re currently putting up into one of the glass holders outside of the cinema almost slips out of your frozen fingers out of shock, your heart skipping a beat. “Huh?” you hum, taking out a container full of pins out of your coat pocket and securing the poster to its designated place. “You want to bring money to your father’s competitor?” you joke.

“What? No,” he quickly replies, furrowing his brows as he shakes his head. “I meant, like, here,” he says, nodding towards the building to prove his point, taking a step aside when you close the glass door of the poster holder and move towards the next one, 3 more movie banners left to put up outside of the cinema.

The wires in your brain work on full force, trying to clear out any confusion caused by his sudden invitation. Sure, you two have gotten closer ever since you talked with him at the Christmas tree a week ago, but still, you didn’t know it was enough to hang out outside of work hours.

Instead of focusing the conversation on this unpredictable development, you turn towards clearing out the logistics instead. “How would we even do that? We either work at the same time or you work when I don’t and the other way around,” you say, taking the next poster from him and putting it up.

All of the movies airing the next two weeks are Christmas movies. Some of them are old, some of them are premieres, but still– you can’t really imagine watching a festive movie with your coworker. Up until last week, you thought of him as the next reincarnation of Grinch.

“I could get my sister to switch with me on a day you don’t work,” he hums, sheepish about his preposition. There’s something bashful in his tone, something shy in his gaze as he watches you put up the movie poster, but you try your hardest to ignore it for the sake of your sanity. You’re already having a hard time dealing with the fact that he appeared in your dreams twice since he caught you in his arms last week. You don’t need to add the switch in dynamic to the mix.

“Isn’t she underage?” you ask, snickering.

“Yeah, and?” he shrugs. “It’s a family business, Y/N. Everyone has to be included, underage or not.”

A laugh erupts out of your throat at the comment, shaking your head at the boy in disbelief.

“What would you even wanna see? Those are all Christmas movies,” you say, moving along and focusing your attention to the glossy material in your fingers.

“I don’t see how that’s a problem,” he says.

“Oh, it is,” you mutter, “I don’t like Christmas movies.”

Sunwoo grunts. “Well, I don’t really care. I saw your favorite movie with you, so you can return the favor and see my favorite movie with me,” he speaks up, making you roll your eyes at his words.

“There’s no way any of those movies is your favorite,” you note, doubtful tone haunting the boy.

“You wouldn’t know,” he laughs, making your heart do cartwheels at the sound, his teasing making you feel warmth despite the cold breeze trying to make your bones freeze into blocks of ice.

“I won’t go unless I believe you,” you say, grinning as you close the glass box and take the last poster out of Sunwoo’s hands, watching as the boy puts his frozen fingers into the comfort of his warm jacket, shielding them from the cold.

“Not fair.”

“Very fair, actually.”

“Oh come on,” he sighs, shaking his head in disagreement, “I thought we could watch a Christmas movie as a celebration to the end of semester,” he says, tone of voice almost pleading.

Securing the last banner into its designated place, you turn towards Sunwoo with an examining look on your face. He seems to be completely serious, eyes big pools of honey as he watches your face morph as you think. Something in your stomach makes it feel like it’s flying, making you clear your throat as you avert your gaze towards the line of Christmas movie posters on the brick wall. “Fine,” you gulp, “so what do you wanna watch?”

“The Polar Express,” he says, pointing towards the A3 scale you put up last, showing one of the movies that were older, but Mr Kim decided to air anyway– as if he was aware.

Fuck, you think. That’s my favorite.

“Absolutely not,” you cough, “I hate that movie.”

“Huh? How?” he sighs, face full of disappointment.

“Just because. It’s too long.”

“It’s not even two hours?”

Eyes quickly darting towards the poster, pupils shaking as you look towards the airing dates at the very bottom, you chew on your bottom lip, trying to find a way out. “You’re working on the 18th.”

“Okay, then we can go on the 19th,” Sunwoo says, determined to make you watch the movie with him. Why? You don’t even want to know at this point.

“I go home for Christmas break on the 19th,” you say, shrugging. “See? It wasn’t meant to be.”

“Y/N, come on–”

“Listen, can’t we just go back to hating each other instead of you annoying me about this stupid movie?” you sigh. In the whirlpool of events, you forgot just how insistent Sunwoo could be– who knows, maybe this was the real reason why you were so irritated with him in the first place.

Slowly walking back towards your workplace, hearing Sunwoo’s sneakers hit the ground behind you as he trails after you like a lost puppy, a sense of momentarily victory flows through your veins when you recognise that you found your way out. There was no way Mr Kim would let his underage daughter work instead of Sunwoo, and you truly were leaving home the evening of 19th. You already had a train ticket– you’re not gonna change your plans because of a man you despised just a few days ago.

“I never really hated you, by the way. Besides, you’re only saying that because you hate the movie,” Sunwoo grunts, chiming in front of you– making you think he’s being petty and doesn’t want to talk to you anymore, surprising you when he opens the door for you and offers you a solemn gaze, waiting for you to walk through the entryway and go back to work. (For you, it’s sitting in the ticket booth in silence. For Sunwoo, it’s pretending to work in the back, since his dad is absent today again)

Reciprocating his gaze, noticing the disappointment behind your coworker’s eyes, you feel something in your stomach drop, the weight of it so heavy you quickly avert your look.

“Maybe,” you shrug.

And maybe, the true reason is something completely else.

The words resonate through your brain– ‘I never really hated you, by the way’. Funny. Then what were all those months of torture all about?

You decide you no longer want answers.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – WHEN HARRY MET SALLY (1989)

You can’t believe you’re doing something nice for Kim Sunwoo.

Shoes hitting the gravel, your scarf pulled up so it covers your nose from the ice cold air, a hat hugging your head in warmth and shielding you from the aggressive weather, you start to contemplate your choices and your next moves. A sigh escapes your throat when your eyes land on the marquee above the entrance of the movie theater, teeth chewing on the inside of your cheek as you shift your weight from one foot to another.

Pulling out your phone to check the time, a shiny 7:24PM stares back at you, pushing you to walk up to the door of your workplace on your day off, 24 minutes after the beginning of The polar express.

You feel silly. You feel oh so stupid when you push the door open and your body is immediately engulfed in warmth, the yellow dim lights of the cinema making your eyes slowly adjust to the brightness contrasting the darkness of the outside world. You feel like you must have gone crazy, especially when your insides start to get all light and bubbly, hints of nerves tingling at the tips of your fingertips and the deepest corners of your stomach. There’s no turning back now, you tell yourself– and when your feet automatically take you to the ticket booth, gaze landing on the boy with his bangs in his eyes and an expression worthy of a kicked puppy on his face, you suddenly feel like your trip to the cinema was all worth it.

Clearing your throat, you notify your coworker of your presence, his big, doe eyes staring at you in surprise. Sunwoo’s mouth goes agape, shock overtaking his features when he takes in your appearance. (You bet he thinks you look laughable– your eyes teary from the cold and your figure stoic, numb limbs hanging by your side.)

“What are you doing here?” he asks, the question not as aggressive as it sounded out of your lips every time he paid a visit to the cinema on his days off for all these months.

“Uh… I forgot some things in the back and I wanted to take them home tomorrow, so I came back for them,” you hum, the practiced excuse slipping out of your lips with ease, “can you come help me?”

Sunwoo looks even more surprised at your question– although there is now a hint of confusion in the mix. What could you possibly have in the back to need his help with? For as far as he knows, you only ever kept your work uniform in your locker. “What? Can’t you get it yourself…?” he asks, noticing as you shake your head in disapproval.

“It’s… it’s on the top of the lockers and I can’t reach it, so-”

“Grab a chair…?”

You didn’t really expect to have Sunwoo question your half-assed excuse. Truly, you thought this was going to go smoothly– but knowing Kim Sunwoo, you should’ve known it was never going to go the way you planned. You’re determined to win, though.

And so it’s the time to bring out the big guns– men never say no when you praise them and make yourself look incompetent.

“Please? I don’t feel like bringing a chair and you’re tall enough. It will only take a second…” you pout, watching as the male in front of you sighs and stands up from his seat, nodding at your humble request.

Sunwoo follows you as you walk down the corridor, your heart thumping with the start of your little plan. Your steps are calculated and your movements carefully programmed, the nervousness in your stomach making you even more giddy with every meter of distance you two cross.

Before you two get a chance to make it to the back, you make a swift turn and open the doors to one of the rooms on the left of the hall, dragging Sunwoo by his hand and tugging him inside. His body stumbles against yours, but the door closes behind him faster than he can react to the impact. Steadying the boy back to his feet, you watch him with anticipation, awaiting his reaction.

The truth is, you haven’t thought the plan out this far. The depiction of it in your brain always ended with you sneaking him into the projecting room and his curious eyes peering into yours. Something about the image of the events always made you feel too overwhelmed– you never dared to imagine the situation further. (That would mean admitting some hidden desires to yourself, so you never even tried. That all makes this situation twice as nerve-wrecking, though.)

“What… are we doing here?” he asks, eyes darting around the darkness of the projection room, the only light illuminating his pretty features being the movie playing behind the glass of the small booth.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to watch The polar express with me?” you ask, voice a few octaves higher than usual.

“I… did…” he mumbles, confusion making him stumble over his own words.

“Well, you are working and I leave tomorrow, so I figured I had to find a way…” you shrug, watching as Sunwoo looks at you a little frozen, big eyes staring you down, gears turning in his head. You can’t really read him– you don’t really know if he’s going to laugh at you or send you home for ruining his shift. You don’t know if he appreciates the gesture, or if he thinks you’re being embarrassing. You don’t know if he registers the slight tremble of your hands and the lightness of your breathing, you don’t know if he realizes how much his reaction could make your day or completely ruin it (just like always), and so, you panic– and when you panic, you ramble. “I know we are technically not supposed to be here– well, me, at least– but I think that being with the owner’s son could make my boss let me off even if he somehow finds out, which I doubt he will, but–”

Sunwoo’s face starts slowly morphing, the slightest of shifts slowly adding up to a change of expression, having the male break out into the biggest, happiest grin you’ve ever seen him sport. His eyes light up and glaze your features in the softest of touches, his head shaking in disbelief. “Oh, you’re adorable.”

“What?” you ask, your heart doing seven somersaults and five cartwheels, eyes a big pool of surprise.

“You did this for me?” he beams, his grin so big and pretty it takes your breath away. Butterfly wings tickle in your stomach at the sight, having you mentally curse yourself– hold it together, Y/N.

“I- I mean, I didn’t really do anything, we just sneaked in–”

“This is the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for me,” Sunwoo hums, the teasing tone making its comeback in his voice, “actually, this might be the first sweet thing you’ve ever done for me–”

“Well, okay,” you roll your eyes, an embarrassed laugh dragging out of your throat as you turn on your heel and walk closer to the little table in the opposite end of the room, needing to avert your gaze from the boy for at least a second. The air is suddenly too heavy and it’s hard for you to breathe, heat rushing to your cheeks.

Eyes focusing on the screen in front of you, your brain tries hard to focus on your favorite Christmas movie. Failing, your head running thoughts full of conflicting emotions and erratic exclamation marks screaming the name of the boy behind you, you ask yourself how and when exactly you’ve gotten yourself into this mess.

Maybe you shouldn’t have gotten this job in the first place.

Ears painfully alert, listening to each sound heard in the small projecting room– the shuffling of Sunwoo’s feet as he nears your figure, the muffled noise of the movie playing in the screening room in front of you, the resonance of your own heartbeat in your ears as Sunwoo’s hands suddenly sneak around your middle, your jacket squeaking from the contact of his limbs as he hugs you.

“What–”

“Don’t fight me, Y/N. Just this once,” he hums, voice deep, but still a bit hesitant. It’s like he’s walking on unsteady land, cautious of his movements in fear of making you run away. He’s in a new territory, in your personal space– the scent of his cologne fills your nostrils again as his head settles itself on your shoulder, the two of you silently watching the movie for a few seconds, not really knowing how to proceed.

There’s something intimate in the way he holds you, in the way the movie is a mere background noise to the marathon of your thoughts, the blue light illuminating your faces as you both try your hardest to keep your cool.

A flashing thought of just how much you from a few months ago would hate the position it’s in right now passes by your brain, making you instantly feel foolish. Oh how much you’d love it if you stood here unaffected right now– there’s no way to battle the warmth flooding your insides right at this moment, though.

“This is nice,” he mumbles, voice barely louder than a whisper. “Thank you,” he says, your insides squeezing at the sincerity. It’s not often you get to see this side of Sunwoo– the sweet, patient one, the side of him that makes you feel safe in his arms and appreciated with the soft tone in his words. And while you realize you don’t hate the playful side of him just as much as you thought you did, you must admit the novelty of the situation makes you feel a bit more joyful than you’d like to admit.

The weight of his head disappears from your shoulder, making you feel momentarily disappointed by the action. You expect him to pull away and take a seat on the chair, to finally focus on the movie playing in front of your eyes, the thought alone making your spirit fall. The fire in your inside lights up like a match thrown into a pool of gasoline just as fast again, though, when you feel soft lips come in contact with your cheek.

They stay only for a second before they disappear, an airy laugh landing in your ear a second later. “Please don’t run away now,” he says, tone of voice uncertain, telling you that now the ball is in your court– your next actions could either make him the happiest man on Earth, or completely break him.

The choice is yours.

Your head turns his way, eyes instantly locking with his brown orbs searching for any signs of discomfort in your face. Slowly, as if still processing the events of before, your eyes trail over his features– the awfully handsome way his face was sculpted, the softness of his eyes and the sharpness of his jaw, the slope of his nose and the plushness of his lips. They’re not as chapped today, making you wonder if he started wearing vaseline, and before you get a chance to stop yourself, you start wondering of the way his lips would feel on yours, imagination running wild.

He heaves out a shaky breath, your eyes darting back into his– as if to ask for approval, see if he’s okay with it. There’s a dazy look in them, gaze pressed to your lips, then to your eyes, then your lips again– a look you take as an invitation as you act against all your best judgment and lean towards him, pressing your mouth against his.

As if testing the waters, you make the kiss short. It was long enough to engrave it into your brain, though– to remember the way his perfectly shaped lips pressed against yours, the way the world stopped just for a moment, the way he tasted of the strawberry mints he always eats at work whenever he has nothing to do.

Sunwoo seems to find liking in the action– lips glazing yours again, pressing another peck to them before he deepens the kiss, the tingling in your fingertips intensifying and the excitement bubbling in your frame making you turn in your position, front facing him and pressing up against his chest. His hands quickly adjust, slipping under your opened jacket and settling on your clothed waist, the slightest contact making your knees weak and settle your bottom against the table behind you, hands grabbing the fabric of his sweatshirt.

He pulls back to catch some air, a boyish grin breaking out on his face, forehead knocking against yours in a sweet, giddy manner. “I’ve wanted to do this for months,” he huffs.

The sentiment makes a thousand question marks appear in your head– why did he make your life a living hell, then? Why did he pull pranks on you and make you hate every second spent with him? Why did he make you so furious each time and argued with you about the smallest things? How could Sunwoo possibly have wanted this for months, when you just only started noticing his attractiveness a few weeks ago?

“Why–”

“I’ll tell you later,” he says, cutting you off as he presses his lips against yours again, your mouth automatically welcoming his presence. Brain erased of all previous questions, his kisses working like a spell, you focus all your senses on the man in front of you.

Having your hands feeling up his abdomen, Sunwoo hesitantly asks for entrance with his tongue, running it along your lower lip until you welcome him in. You like this type of power battle much more than the one you had going on until now, and with each new movement, you feel yourself falling apart under him.

His fingers tug down on the sides of your jacket, pulling it down. You don’t need it anymore– with how heated you’ve gotten, you are actually kind of happy that it is gone. One of his cold hands sneaks under the hem of your jumper, fingertips trailing up and down your side, the other one tugs down the hat from your head, discarding it somewhere on the table behind you before it finds its place on the side of your jaw, angling your head in a way that allows him to deepen the kiss even more, the contact of your lips growing firmer as seconds go by.

Your scarf is swiftly untangled off your neck, Sunwoo’s skilled lips blindly trailing down the side of your mouth towards your jaw, feathery kisses ticking you before he gets more bold and sucks on the side of your throat, a shaky breath shyly escaping your lips.

“Sunwoo…” you say, tone of voice not really present, no real intention behind the call of his name.

The boy hums against your neck, having you gasp again when he lightly bites the softness of your skin, your hands shooting up to tangle in his hair when he licks the spot to soothe it after. Threading your fingers through his locks to ground yourself, you can’t believe you ever hoped for him to get a trim.

His hands firmly hold the underside of your thighs before he hoists you up on the table, continuing his confident attack on your neck when you’re sitting comfortably on the hard surface. It’s not like you didn’t feel excited, the tiniest bit thrilled at the mental image of his possessive marks all over your throat, but you were glad it was freezing outside and you could wear a turtleneck to hide the bruises from your family tomorrow. He nuzzles his nose into the hot skin of your neck, the action making you grin in ecstasy and endearment.

Getting lost in the way he was handling you, his touches firm, yet delicate, acted out in a way that makes you feel safe and comfortable with his passionate ministrations, you almost don’t notice the door swinging open, the figure of your boss like striking like the lightning in the doorway of the screening room.

“Sunwoo!”

The boy jumps, his body quickly ungluing itself off yours, as he listens to his father scolding him. “I don’t care what you two have going on over here, but you’re on clock! There’s a line waiting for the tickets for tomorrow’s movie and someone has to sell them right now.”

The boy clears his throat, voice a little hoarse. “Coming,” he says, trying to keep his composure. His hair’s a little tousled, cheeks rosy and lips puffed– the image that will haunt you in your sweetest nightmares now– and before you get a chance to say anything or let your brain process the events of the last few minutes, your panic works faster, making you act.

Quickly scattering for your things, you run out of the projecting room without saying goodbye to either Sunwoo or your boss, never once looking back.

You think of what you’ve done on your way home, bones freezing now that they weren’t in his presence. You try hard to regret your actions, but you don’t find it in you to do so– it’s kind of hard with the feeling of his lips still playing with yours.

Even though you’d hate to admit it just a few weeks ago, you must do it now.

Kim Sunwoo does make a really good kisser.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – PRIDE AND PREJUDICE (2005)

There are many thoughts swimming around your brain as you walk through the coldness of the town the next day, your duffel bag hanging off your shoulder. There’s a conflict between the actions of your body and your thoughts – feet on their journey to the train station, but head stuck in the small projection room of your workplace, your coworker’s kisses occupying your every sober thought.

It’s not surprising, but you haven't heard from Sunwoo since you left the cinema last night. Not a single text or a call– but you figure that this is just your dynamic. Sunwoo’s never been much of a texter when it came to you. He’s never had the reason to text or call you, unless it was work-related, and you think it will stay that way, even though you did make out with him just last night.

Maybe he regretted it. Maybe he just didn’t feel like pondering on the events any longer– maybe it was just a one-time thing for him and he didn’t put much significance to it. You wouldn’t know– it’s not like you’re suddenly an expert on the way he feels and operates.

You, though? How do you feel about the turn of events? Despite not wanting to admit it to yourself, the answer came to you the second you tried to fall asleep last night, every soaring thought in your brain showing you the reflection of his dazed look, desires of wanting him to look at you that way all the time oh so skilfully infesting themselves into every crevice of your neocortex. You want Sunwoo to like you. You want Sunwoo to want you. You want Sunwoo to be so enchanted with your existence that he thinks about you before he goes to sleep at night– just like you have done for the past few weeks.

The answer comes to you again when you feel something wet fall on the top of your cheek, making you turn your eyes towards the sky. Your breathing comes out in puffs of air as you watch the magic happen right in front of you– and as you watch the snowflakes scatter all around the place, you are in another inner argument. While the rational side of your brain is screaming at you to keep walking to the station so you don’t miss your train home, the delirious side is cooperating with your feet for once, your figure crossing to the other side of the street and walking over to the place you could get to even with your eyes closed at this point; all because you suddenly remember the conversation you had with Sunwoo when you were putting on ornaments to the Christmas tree.

It’s the first snow of the season.

Kim Sunwoo loves it when it snows.

Speed-walking towards the vintage movie theater at the corner of the town’s square, you feel something akin to childish excitement bubbling in your insides, a hint of nervousness inviting itself into your insides when you push the door open and aim straight towards the ticket booth, where you know Sunwoo will be sitting, wasting another shift away.

He’s there– eyes pressed towards the window, gaze following the snowflakes kissing the cold ground. You expected more excitement in his character, more childlike joy in his figure– and after taking in his composure: shoulders slouching and fingers picking at the skin of his cuticles, you suddenly feel silly for coming.

Well, here goes nothing, you think.

“Sunwoo,” you call, making the boy snap his head towards you in surprise, big eyes meeting yours the moment he recognises your voice.

You don’t receive a verbal response for a while. The boy just stares at you, a bit hesitant and clueless. His face reminds you of a small puppy trying to take in the new situation in front of it. His lips are formed into a small pout, gears in his brain turning and trying to process the reality of having you standing there, face beaten from the cold.

Clearing your throat, you try to take charge of the situation. “It’s snowing outside,” you say, eyes peering out of the window, all thoughts suddenly escaping your brain, words blanking off your tongue, “and, well… you said you like the snow, so…”

The boy’s mouth hangs agape, a twinkle in his eyes slowly appearing once again when he stares at you, your nervousness doing wonders to your conversation skills. “I- I don’t even know what I wanted to say with that, it’s just- I don’t know… I saw it was snowing and I automatically came here, so-” you stutter, the sentence cutting off as Sunwoo jumps to his feet and grins, wordlessly taking your hand into his and dragging you outside.

The duffel bag falls off your shoulder somewhere in the middle of the hall, discarded to the floor, before Sunwoo sharply halts in his steps and runs back towards the ticket booth, still dragging you with him by the hand. The boy grabs something off the table, the item not visible in your rear point of view, and before you have a chance to register what’s happening, you’re outside of the building again, coldness instantly slapping you in the face.

It’s dark out, but the heaviness of the snow provides enough light in the silent evening for you to see where you’re going under the yellow lampposts on the street. Instantly noticing the lack of Sunwoo’s warm hand in yours when he suddenly lets go, you turn your head to look at the male.

Terror fills your veins when you notice him gathering snow from the ground and pressing it into a tight ball, a screech escaping your throat when you watch him swing it at you, a playful, boyish grin playing with his features. The male chases you around and most of the snowballs don't even hit your running figure (he does have an awful aim), but you still duck anyway and try your hardest to win your snowball fight.

Numb fingers creating snowballs and halting them at his tall frame, but missing most of the time due to his fast reflexes, you laugh and let go of all the worries and questions clouding your judgment. Sunwoo looks enthusiastic, so much more lively than when you found him in the ticket booth just a few minutes ago– but that’s still not enough for you to let him win.

Gathering the icy texture into your hands, you run towards him, taking advantage of his inattention as he’s bent over and taking more snow into his hold, and halt the whiteness into his face just as he straightens his back and wants to prepare for his attack.

More laughter bubbles out of your chest when you watch him drop his snowball to the ground, admitting defeat. The snow is all over his face– slowly running down his cheeks like teardrops, redness tinting his nose and the sides of his face.

The male shudders from the cold, and you instantly start feeling bad. Only now you realize that he ran out without a coat, a gasp escaping your throat. “Oh god,” you mourn, hands flying towards his frozen face to wipe off the snow from his cheeks, fingers carefully tracing over his cold skin. His eyes open as he watches you, something in his gaze so tender you feel yourself melting even in the middle of the snowstorm.

The male shuffles his hands into the front pocket of his gray hoodie, taking out the item you now recognise to be the hat you accidentally forgot in the projecting room yesterday (and already mentally paid goodbye to), his frozen fingers tugging the fabric onto your head.

“Why are you putting this on me? You’re the one that’s freezing over here!” you scold him, shaking your head at the male.

He rewards you with an amused grin, watching your next moves. Acting on auto-pilot, not really putting much thought into your actions, you unzip your jacket and step impossibly near to the male. Holding the jacket open, you hug him around his middle, making sure you are sharing the warmth with him and keeping him as close as possible, shielding him from the cold with both the fabric of your puffer jacket and the heat radiating off your body.

Faces just inches away from each other, you peer at his face. He wears a warm expression, eyes peeking out from behind his dark bangs. Clouds of breath escape his mouth when he speaks, voice quiet, as if to not ruin the atmosphere. “I thought you would regret it,” he says, making you break out into a foolish smile.

“I thought so too,” you nod.

“And you don’t?”

Shrugging, you reply. “Not really.”

“Why?” he asks, suddenly doubtful. “You said you hated me. Which was odd to hear, honestly, since I did all this to get your attention anyway and I thought it was just how our dynamic works, but… I could see how it could be annoying to you…”

Chuckling, you roll your eyes at the sudden revelation. It’s sickeningly sweet how endearing he looks when he doubts himself, explaining himself to you in a nervous blabber. “I don’t hate you. At least not anymore.”

“You don’t?”

“No,” you shake your head, a tender gaze shared between the two of you, “I actually quite like you, I think…” you mumble, a little bashful to admit it out loud.

“You do?” he asks, the twinkle in his eye glimmering twice as much as ever before, tone of voice playful, yet laced with honest joy and surprise at your confession.

“I do,” you nod, voice barely louder than a whisper as you watch him lean closer towards your face, cold nose bumping into yours before he angles his head, breath mixing in with yours in the few seconds before he dares to kiss you again, capturing your lips with his.

The kiss is sweet. The kiss tastes of strawberry mints and the first snow, of unsaid confessions and longing looks sent your way every time you weren’t looking. The kiss makes your stomach fill with a thousand little butterflies, it melts away the ice around you, the two of you like a spark of a fire in the middle of a snowy land.

His actions have your composure faltering, hands untangling from behind him and moving up to cradle his face. He melts under your touch, leaning into you as your fingers trail over his cheekbones. Holding on to him, thumbs padding his soft skin, you’re reminded of the cold only when he breaks off you and shudders again, teeth clattering from the freezing temperature.

“Let’s get you inside,” you say, planting a short peck to his lips, “before you turn into an icicle,” you giggle, watching as he scrunches up his face.

“I won’t,” he shakes his head, “love warms me up,” he grins, making you roll your eyes at his bold statement.

“You’re so cheesy.”

“But you quite like me anyways, no?”

Sighing, moving away from him and tugging him back inside the cinema, you shake your head at the boy. “I’ll think about it on my train home,” you bite back, opening the door to the theater and aiming towards the duffel bag you dropped on your way out.

Sunwoo watches you with a warm gaze, an adorable smile playing with his lips. His figure seems to be visibly taking in the heat again, his face adorning a flush, pink color.

“So I take it as you’re not quitting anymore, then?” he teases as you walk back to the door, both of you ignoring the customers waiting for their tickets in the line in front of the forgotten booth.

“We’ll see,” you shrug.

“I’ll text you the schedule for January?”

“You better text me about something else too, Kim Sunwoo,” you bark back, opening the door towards the cold landscape, “or you’re gonna have a very uncomfortable return back to work in January!”

The boy laughs, the noise like a Christmas carol to your ears. “Noted.”

Slipping outside, you watch as he waves at you goodbye, your feet dragging through the snow towards the train station having more pep to their step now. You don’t even know if you can make it to the train on time, but you surprisingly have no regrets– you can always catch the next one, right?

Mentally wanting to slap yourself for the lovesick grin playing with your lips, you sigh.

The male that once made your life a living hell is now the one you look forward to seeing the most once you come back after Christmas break. It’s kind of strange, really.

One would think that working with movies on the daily would prepare you better for the biggest plot twist of your life.

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chastiefoul · 1 year ago

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valentines gone wrong ft. childe, scara, and neuvilette

a/n: yes. you read that right valentines work on september!! this is just something random i wanna write one day when i'm lying down and ofc i can't wait until february next year (also how is it alr almost 2 months since i posted something???) tags: just fluff, light-read, and everything in-between, modern au (?) just don't think too much abt it hehe - summary: it's valentines and of course you have plans to give sweets to your lover. however because one thing and another, you had to entrust it to someone else in hope it will be handed safely to them. what happened when it didn't?

childe

you went home excited, anticipating his reaction to your handmade sweets, however what greets you at the door was a sulky childe, who avoided eye contact as if his life depended on it as he limits himself to a a sentence everytime you ask him something.

“something happened today, babe?” you asked him worriedly, the chocolate was the back of your mind seeing the state of your boyfriend in. “oh something definitely should have happened,” he quipped, his lower mouth sticking out slightly. “that sounds like a dig at me, did i forgot something?” you asked as you follow his gaze to what he thought must be the most interesting flower vase ever. he shrugged, refusing to give you more.

frustrated by his rejection to tell you what’s wrong, you held his face with both of your palm, turning his face to yours. although the move met no resistance, childe still refused to look at you in the eyes and only now his childish grumbles turned into such a sad expression.

“baby? please tell me what i did,” you were gentle with it, rubbing your thumb below his eyes. “...late.”

“what?”

“chocolate. where’s mine? i saw you gave your friends one so i don’t think im crazy to expect one too, especially as your boyfriend.” he pouted and you swore it looked so adorable and so out-of-character of him that you wanted to kiss him—wait.

“huh? but i did give you one!” you claimed, confusion rose inside you. “huh? but i didn’t get it...” childe’s face matched your expression. “well technically i gave it to scara to give it to you.. did he not... give it to you?”

“i wouldn’t be this insufferable if i got one, you know that, but no he didn’t say anything—and also really babe? scara? the guy who hates and made fun of me every chance he got?” he crossed his arm, raising an eyebrow, as he questioned your questionable decision-making. “hey give me a break, i was in a rush there thinking i couldn’t give you the chocolate in time. and he made me say please three times before he said he would consider doing it-oh i see how i was wrong there.” your line of ramble humbled you, the silence was loud.

“maybe he just put it in your bag or something?” you offered. “you really think he’s someone who’d do that?” he asked. “in desperate times i’d give even scara the benefit of the doubt,” you stated, opening childe’s bag. and there it was, put nicely at the very top, your chocolate for your lover.

you smiled, for all the shit-talk scara gave everyone on a daily basis you knew you could count on him. “see? i knew he’s actually a big softie for stuff like this.”

childe practically runs to your side. “my chocolate? aw babe so you really didn’t forget me!” he peppered kisses all over your face, then clasping the sweet to his chest like it’s a new-born baby. “of course i’d never. but maybe next year i’ll just give it directly to you.”

“yeah? please do, today’s event just wasn’t great for my heart.”

neuvilette

“welcome home, dear.” you greeted him cheerily as he just arrived home. it was quite late, and you had entrust the chocolate you were supposed to give to him at a reasonable hour so he could enjoy it instead of giving it to him at home.

he kissed your temple in return, a smile you’re still head over heels for on his lips. but it doesnt quite reach his eyes.

“what’s wrong?” you asked carefully. “nothing is wrong,” he replied, somehow looking nervous. “yet it’s strange for you to be looking so fidgety. tell me?”

“well,” he paused a little, stroking your hair as he pondered the best way to approach the sentence he’s about to say. “i saw you today giving chocolates to navia and wriothesley.. i couldn’t talk to you because i was in a rush to deal with an urgent case,” he said, not looking at you on the eyes. “oh, did that bother you? it’s just they’re such good friends of mine and it’s only friendship cookies-“

“no, dear of course not. i know you’re a loving person who always appreciate those around you, it’s just..”

“just?”

neuvilette looked like he didn’t hear the rest of the words after that you did make some for the white-haired male. a smile bloomed on his face as he shook his head. “no problem i will ask them about it tomorrow. i’m just delighted you kept me in your thoughts.” a gentle expression was loyal on his features. “well of course neuvillete, you hardly ever leave my thoughts, don’t you know?” he chuckled. “i’m familiar with that you see, considering you never leave mine as well.”

the next sentence was almost audible as he spoke. “do i not get one..?” he asked ever so softly sounding a little sad, his calloused hand ran across your arm, tracing along your vein as it touched your fingers and you're sure there's something wrong in your head because all you could think about that second was how adorable the usual charismatic man was being. yet you held your smile.

“of course you do! did it not reach you? i asked the guard in front of your door because i afraid i’d bother you at work hours. sorry neuvilette, i promised i made some for you, and i was so proud of it too...”

scara

“no i’m not.” he said, with the worst frown you’ve seen on him for a while and that’s saying a lot.

“you’re definitely sulking,” you said. “shut up,” he grumbled. “hey i was supposed to be one who’s doing the sulking. we’re nearing the end of the day and you haven’t even mentioned about the chocolate i gave you today!” you retorted out of frustration but most of all confusion because you had no idea what made your lover fall into such a bad mood.

“what.”

“what?”

“say that again,” scara said, “that i gave you chocolate?” you asked. “no you didn’t, you liar!” he complained, his frown deepened if that’s even possible. “wait what? i swear i asked childe to give it to you earlier today! i was ambushed by customers today at the shop so i was scared i couldn’t give it to you on time so i asked him. did it not get to you?” you explained.

“i came home empty-handed didn’t i? also really, that dense fool?” his displeasure was obvious upon the new information you couldn’t help but chuckle slightly. “don’t look so disgusted, he’s not that bad.”

“sure, although you know what’s bad? that i don’t have my chocolates right now.” he crossed his arm, fuming almost looking like a child who got their toys taken. “alright enough of your pouting. we’ll interogate him later. for now, i seem to have leftover ingredients, i’ll make you a new one.” you approached him, combing through the back of his hair as you planted a gentle kiss on his cheek. he replied by pulling you closer as he nuzzled into your neck. “it better be good,” he mumbled.

at the end you didn’t even make it to 5 minutes before scara followed you to the kitchen, insisting that he made it together too because he was ‘watching over you so you don’t mess up’ but personally i think he just felt bad because you need to make a new one and wanted to help you any way he can. that’s something he’d never admit even if there’s a gun pointing at his head, though.

#genshin x reader #genshin scenarios #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin x you #genshin fluff #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia x y/n #tartaglia x you #neuvilette x reader #scara x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #wanderer fluff

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blueparadis · 2 years ago

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Hi! I love your writing :)

If you have the time/are interested can yo make TR Mikey x reader smut with Mikey realizing reader is a virgin right before their first time? Either he believed gossips or the reader teases a lot or something. Whatever you cook up if you decide to do this, I am sure I will love it :)

Have a nice day

—

Thank you >:)) okay. this was very precise but idk why it confused me. I did my best tho. I love him sm. I'm always excited to write on him >^< hope you love it too <33

STAY WITH ME ; MANJIRO SANO !

୨ content & tags ୧ ~ f!reader, mafia au, mention of brothels, arrange marriage, virginity k!nk, ( domestic ) fluff, f1nger1ng, orgasm control, kisses and soft love making, very light corruption k!nk, teasing, he is a big softie here. word count — 2kish + blog navigation.

“You know about this ?”, Draken throws the newspaper in front of Manjiro who is deeply staring at his knuckles and his rings, sitting on a bar stool holding a drink with his non-dominant hand.

“They made it public. Were you aware of this? . . . ”Draken continues in a harsh tone with his eyebrows furrowing further as Manjiro keeps him playing with a ring, juggling it in between his fingers. “Mi-key, you know what this means right? The wedding is gonna happen in a week or . . .”

“Shin told me that we're going to visit them. Tomorrow. So, I figured . . .”

“You figured what? Y/N is practically in the front page with massive headlines and. . . ” Manjiro grabs the news paper instantly looking at the photo of her. She is walking out of a shop in a one-piece dress that reveals much of her body curves, beautifully, he must add. And except the chauffeur, there is no sign of a bodyguard. How dare he! That scoundrel.

Moreover, it's been almost a year since he saw her or it would be more accurate to say that he was forbidden to see her, meet her, talk to her. The only thread of communication he had with her was occasional gifts, though it was more of a bridging alliance with her father than wooing her.

“We’re leaving.”He rushes out of their private bar,“Now. And Inform Haruchiyo. He is coming with us.”

“What? ”, Draken gasped. “But Shinichiro -san ”

“Didn't you want me to take action? This is me taking action . . . for her. ”

“Ahhh, fuck it.”

Manjiro wasn't angry. He was furious, furious that his fiancee is roaming around the town without any sort of protection. He has been humbling himself since the day this bond was sealed. He had stopped going to whore house, bringing girls in his house or even going to a bar with Izana. The day this marriage was confirmed, he knew he had to cut off all these (bad) habits once she is under same room with him.

She was sent to study abroad, right after the meeting. Manjiro would have easily continued his lavish acts but he was told to behave, told to be prepared for her. And now that she is back, Manjiro was supposed to court her, take care of her, and get rid of the childish awkwardness of a newly married couple. Who knows what happened abroad? She might have been deflowered or . . .

“Woah. What a good day it is . . .”, Y/N’s father rose up folding the newspaper and keeping it on the tea table as he saw three men approaching in his way. Manjiro Sano, Ken Ryuguji and Sanzu Haruchiyo. Of course, they had no trouble with the security.

Without greeting Manjiro walked in to the house, he was determined to meet her. Draken stopped y/n's father with his hand while his lips started to work. “Nah... Shiba-san .... When did y/n got back? We came here immediately as soon as we saw her... in the headlines” Haruchiyo stood beside the man with his eyes on the ground, hands tucked behind at the valley of his waist.

Manjiro smiled to himself as he heard Draken making the small talk. Ah! Geez. He never changes. His eyes scanned the hall. Not a soul was there, not even a servant. He heard quick footsteps cascading down the stairs, his heartbeats escalated, breathing became faster, hands crawling inside the pocket of his slacks. . .“Ahrey. . . Isn't it yuzuha? ”

She cocked her head to a side exclaiming in a bored tone. “Hakkai and Taiju are busy at the restaurant. I'm sure you know why”

“I’m not here for them” Yuzuha couldn't help but smile at his confession.

“She is in her room. Up-stairs. Right - wing. Last room with balcony.” Manjiro was already walking as he bowed his head to give his utmost thanks to her.

He stood in front of the door for a minute thinking now what? He hasn't prepared shit to say and he certainly doesn't want to scare her. Last meeting was . . . he was quite hard on her. He knocked, three times and waited. Within five seconds he saw y/n opening the door with so much zeal in her eyes.

“You should always ask. . . Who is it? Before opening the door.”, Manjiro quipped walking into the room and closing the door behind, without turning so as to keep his eyes on her.

“Are you not surprised to see me? ”

“Yuzuu texted.”, that girl always had a knack for enacting tit-for-tat whenever there was an opening.

“So, within a week. . . You'll have to stay. . . ”

“Stay with you, share bed with you, obey you. . . Yeah, yeah I know” God! What did they do to her? Last time when Manjiro saw her she had no fire in her eyes, no fight in her soul. What exactly happened at abroad?

“I wasn't going to say that but i guess that sums up. Here”, he kept a strip of medicines. “You will have these. I want you to be prepared for our wedding night. Start from today.” Part of her knew what those pills did, while part of her wanted to ask, to hear through his voice. How fucking rude! No gifts, no talk straight to sex.

The wedding day was lustrous and full of happiness. Just for a day, everyone in the Shiba family set aside there differences to make you smile. Yuzuha complained a little about how she is gonna be lonely without her sister and claimed she is gonna visit her soon but Manjiro brushed it off.

“You’re drinking too much. . . Is the crowd making you nervous? Do you want to go inside? Is the food too spicy? ”

Manjiro was kind even for a man who belonged to the obsidian world of blood-bath. His attention was focused on her, her tone of talking, body language. He cannot wait to just have her, share bed with her and fuck her in all positions known to a man, fuck her till all she remembers is his name, till she reeks of him, thinks of him and only him.

He entered the room an hour later than her. By the time she already had changed clothes and was under the covers laying down and thinking about the marriage, this marriage that was mere an alliance and she was just a peace offering.

“Y/N, you still awake?”Manjiro asked coming out of the bathroom and standing near the edge of the bed. The light of night lamp was perfectly falling on her face as she turned around to face him. Manjiro’s heart dropped at the pit of his stomach, cock twitched as her body peeked from under the covers.

“Are you tired?”, he asked leaning over her as he tucked the loose hair strands behind her ear. She nodded and sat upright. He was now sharing the same cover as her, cock growing, eyes glinting in lust and heart pounding amongst his rib cage. He cupped her face so as she would meet his eyes but she jerked his hands off instantaneously, jumping out of the bed and making some distance between them.

“Don’t”

“Why? Did i do something wrong? Something that hurt you? ”

“No but . . .” “I didn't take pills.”

Manjiro got out of bed and strolled towards her. She backed away. He could see her shaky hands, he swallowed and looked away. “Do i scare you, Y/N?”

“No.” There was silence for a few seconds since Manjiro did not know what to do, what to say. He wasn't ready to have babies, not yet. And, now he can't even fuck her raw and he would hate to wear condom on his wedding night. He always used protection while visiting brothels even though he knew all the girls were clean.

“I. . . I want . . . I need time”, she breathed out. Manjiro’s eyebrows jumped since an entirely different fact dawned on him. Could it be. . . she is. . .?

“Are. . .” he cleared his throat. “Are you still a virgin ?”

“What do you mean still?” , she thought.

“umm-hmm” He raked his fingers through his pitch-black hair revealing his dragon tattoo as her feeble umm-hmm echoed in his head. She is a virgin, that is, he is going to be her first, probably for everything. Honestly, he wouldn't have minded if it were opposite since he was dry for almost an year and now had to keep himself under control. Great. He is truly fucked.

“Do you trust me, y/n ?”

“I can try ”

Manjiro laid out his hand in front of her. She hesitated at first but the moment she kept her palm over his, Manjiro lowered his head to kiss her knuckles. As soon as he raised his head, he pulled her against his body wrapping his other hand around her waist. Her body felt warm,less shaky as he felt her nose grazing against his chest muscles.

“So, you're saying that. . .”, he earned her stares on him as he spoke further. “No one was handsome enough for your taste ?”

“It was a all - girls college.”

“Uhhh-Hahh!” , Manjiro lips tugged up. “And they didn't tell you about anything? What actually happens during wedding night? When they came to know about our marriage.”

“I wasn't supposed to talk about my life, this life to them. I made friends. They were nice but i missed home.” Manjiro was taken aback by her ways for two reasons; one : she wasn't afraid of him like others, two: she was innocent but not naive, a little brave he might add.

“Y/N ?”

“Hmm?”

And when she peered up Manjiro pressed his lips against her cheeks just at the corner of her lips without a second thought. He has fucked enough girls to know a woman's weak spots but this felt out of syllabus. He guided her hands over his shoulders as his lips proceeded along her neckline. Manjiro bucked his hips , pressed his hard on against her entrance earning a loud gasp with her hands locking around his nape. Bingo.

Manjiro swiftly pushed her on to the bed. He stood looking at her while she panted vigorously. He discarded his upper clothing, crawling on top her. His head dipped while she leaned in, lips slightly parted awaiting for his kiss. But Manjiro’s lithe fingers worked on the buttons of her night dress. “What? You thought I was gonna kiss you. . . on your lips. You asked for time, remember?”

But immediately Manjiro’s lips were silenced by a kiss. Dry, short-lived and quick. His hands were still on undoing the buttons Manjiro couldn't help but grin.

“Is that you call a kiss? ”one of his hands travelled underneath her thin night gown, way up to her vagina. His fingers penetrated her at the same time his lips dashed on hers. Manjiro wasn't in mood to hold back because her body was eager. She was just a little afraid and by her desperate hold on his arms, Manjiro could tell she was loving it.

He explored her lips and kissed as deep as he could. “That is ... What you call a kiss.”, he whispered against her lips before pecking her cheeks. He added one more finger and quickened his pace, hitting her spot, watching her eyes blanking out, her grips growing stronger on his arms, body squirming underneath his. Her hips reflexively bucked up as orgasm washed over her body.

“Good girl. ”, he hummed as he rolled beside her giving space to breath licking his fingers shamelesly.

@tokyometronetwork

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jhoneybees · 7 months ago

Text

Special gift

Hello Hello! I'm back dollies :) Here's a cute little fic! It's been a while since I've posted a fic so I do apologise😬 and with the desire part 2 I am writing it! but I'm gonna be shelving that for a bit because I'm not in that thirsty mood at the moment lol I've been craving some sweet fluffy Elvis! Enjoy!

Tags: @elvisalltheway101 my doll!

Characters: Highschool 50s!Elvis X reader

Warnings/triggers: I'd say nothing but if you spot something, please comment!

_____________________________________________

Gosh. His eyes, the waves of deep blue rippling into that icy blue around those dark pupils, increasing and decreasing in size. You really could get lost in them, you have to be careful though, you wouldn't want to fall in love…would you?

Well for your case, yes. You're in love, you're madly in love with a pretty boy. With how he skillfully combs back his hair into a duck tail and how his bottom lip juts out just a bit when he's deep in concentration, you're just melting at just the thought of him, of Elvis Presley.

He's everything you're looking for in a man, a future husband you hope and dream. He’s kind, caring, funny, generous, courteous, and humble. It goes on and on and on and you wouldn’t be panting by the endless list at all because you'll be too busy listing off every praise in the universe. Your mind is just filled with everything Elvis, in every single nook and cranny.

_____________________________________________

Closing the locker door with a tinny slam, your eyes drift to the boy of your dreams. Just standing there with nobody accompanying him, you take the chance to admire him, admiring how his ever growing chest hairs peek out from behind his white short sleeved button up, his lean biceps fill out those sleeves so nicely and his simple black slacks just had to make you hitch a breath, they compliment his long legs so well.

You really do dream of approaching Elvis someday, to finally confess your love that you've been bottling up ever since the first day you saw him but you're shy, so shy that you'd be a shaking leaf just asking a teacher for directions to the art classroom and not only that, you're scared of rejection, you know everyone else is too but it still doesn't change your mind to have the courage to walk up to Elvis Presley and blurt out the three words.

As you sigh and grip your books closer to your chest in longing, his eyes pierce into yours. You didn't know he could stop time because the brief moment of the both of you staring feels like the bustling crowds around you just freeze.

Trying to take an even deep breath, you swallow thickly as he strides towards you. Your wrists ache at the growing pressure against the edges of the books but you don't care because all you're thinking is if your knees are about to collapse at the blessing of seeing Elvis' shy but also charming grin.

“You're Y/n, right?” he asks.

You nod quietly and he breathes out a shy chuckle, stuffing his hand into his pocket, he nods back and you're guessing, out of nervous habit, he scratches the back of his neck.

“I-I’m Elvis…and uh- This m-m-might sound crazy but uh- I've seen you around these places and thought you're real pretty” he states.

He thought you're pretty? No. Real pretty? Oh your dreams must be having a real good time, you can't bring yourself to believe that, he couldn't possibly think that, he's got so many other girls who are far prettier than you that he could choose from, right?

“And uh- ah can't keep my head f’om shuttin’ up to ask ya if ya..uh.. w-w-wanted to go on a date with me?” his eyebrows raise just the slightest bit.

A date?! You? He’s asking you on a date? You swear, you're hearing wedding bells in your head and not the ones from the church a few blocks down that you'd willingly get married in if he asked you to or you're preferred choice, wanted to.

This can't be real, right?

“Y-you don't gotta say yes if ya don't wanna but just thought ah’d better take someone like you out before I regret myself”

He stammers with his head lowering towards his chest and rubbing the back of his neck with a small crooked smile.

Your overly religious parents would scold you for using his name in vain but…

Oh God

Gulping again for- you think, the 20th time. You clutch your books even tighter than before, fully aware that it would definitely leave red marks on your skin. Trying your best to not appear overly shy, you grip at that ounce of courage and give Elvis a small smile.

You've been dreaming of this.

“I-I’d love to”

_____________________________________________

Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, OH. MY. GOSH.

You're going on a date with Elvis Presley…

You're going on a date with Elvis Presley!

As you close your bedroom door and plop your books down on your desk, you gasp softly in your hands in absolute shock. How did you land on such luck? Or whatever it is. Turning yourself around, you sit at the end of bed and dig your face deeper into your hands.

Trying to process your thoughts but of course, all you could ‘process’ is the image of Elvis, the guy that walked up to you. The boy who asked you on a date!

“Ah!!” You squeal, slamming yourself back on the bed, kicking your feet in the air with so much excitement.

Your hands dragging down your face don't do anything to your big smile, you're just amazed, in awe, so in love.

Then a thought comes into your head. What are you gonna give to Elvis as a token of appreciation?

Others might not think of anything like that but to you, it feels necessary. Elvis is taking time out of his day to take you out so why wouldn't you give him something for such a kind gesture?

_____________________________________________

“Thank you…”

You smile as Elvis helps you out of the car, your small hands held by his large ones, you feel calluses on his fingertips from what you know and saw, playing his guitar during lunch breaks and occasionally at the local park on weekends. Their firmness slightly nudges at the back of your hand, the warmth just engulfing your hand cosily. You couldn't be more satisfied at just the slightest touch from him.

Then as he leads you down the wide dirt and grassy track, you grip your knuckles together.

He didn't tell you where you were both going in Riverside Park for this date and as much as you adore and love Elvis, you're a little concerned but as you two near the riverbank and Elvis turns to you with a sweet boyish smile on his face. Your concerns wash away instantly.

“M’sorry this date ain't shiny and lavish…” he chuckles nervously.

“No, this is lovely, Elvis” you say softly, returning a smile.

You wouldn’t have this date any other way, it’s everything you’ve been dreaming of. Getting to sit beside the river with him, being in each other’s company, it’s perfect to you.

You have seen him with other girls at school before and when you saw how much of a gentleman he was to them just makes your heart stab itself with an arrow and you thought you know every kind gesture he does but he’s full of surprises because when he started taking off his jacket and laying it down on the grass, he had the audacity to melt your heart for the 100th time in the span of just 2 weeks.

“Don’t wanna get your pretty skirt dirty”

Of course with that little grin that you have memorised every detail from.

He is just…everything.

The conversation just flows so effortlessly and after some time it begins to fizzle out and you both sit in pleasant silence, you look out at the slow moving, crisp water and when you don’t expect it you both breathe in the fresh air at the same time. Whipping your heads around and bursting into a fit of giggles.

You want to spend your life with him.

Your mind runs with thoughts of how lovely this simple date is and when you turn to look at Elvis’ face, you accidentally let out a tiny gasp which you hope Elvis didn’t hear but of course he did. Turning to look at you with a slow growing smile and piercing blue eyes that ping through into your heart. You wouldn’t be surprised if he started laughing at your poor little heart thumping a thousand miles per hour.

Panting so much that its cheeks would flush a brighter red than it already is.

“Enjoyin’ yer time?” he asks with raised eyebrows, creating those cute little wrinkles on his forehead.

You nod with a small smile, hoping he wouldn’t notice how your cheeks grow a bit pink, almost like the same colour as his socks that are slightly exposed under his brown slacks.

He looks back at the water and you do the same. After a little while, you remember the thing you made for him. Quietly moving your arm, you dig in your skirt pocket and pull out a beaded bracelet with a colour scheme that you hope Elvis would like. Baby blue and gold. Finishing off with a white bead in the middle with a little gold encrusted heart on it.

“Um..Elvis?”

Your heart sighs at how he softly hums in response, turning to look at you with slow wandering eyes.

“Yeah?”

Holding in your breath, you close your eyes for a brief moment. You really do hope he’ll like it, you did work very hard on this little bracelet but if you had to be honest, you wouldn’t complain if he just throws it into the water and yells at you because it’s not much, It’s really not much compared to him using the fuel in his daddy’s car to drive you here and take time out of his precious day but you still like to hope.

Holding the small token in your hands, you lower your chin towards your chest. Gulping nervously at the non existent saliva in your desert-dry mouth.

“I-It’s not much but uh… I made you this a-as a thank you gift for- bringing me here a-and taking time o-out of your day- uhmp-” you stutter and with a bit of bravery and courage, you thrust your hands out more towards his chest.

Your heart almost jumps at the unexpected chuckle and your hands begin to tremble as you feel his fingertips brush your palm, picking up the homemade gift with a crooked grin on his handsome face. Your hands fall onto your lap, your brain shivering in delight. He’s so delicate and gentle at how he’s holding the bracelet and you just melt at how he takes the time to admire every single little bead that you know damn well costed you $1.50 for a small pack and the small gold encrusted heart being your only special bead that you didn’t want to use for anything that isn’t special, yes it’s not actual gold but you just thought a while ago that there could be a possible chance of a real special moment that this little bead would fit perfectly in which this moment is just that.

“Aw Y/n…that’s real sweet of ya, thank you” he drawls, still looking at the bracelet in hand. Shaking his head with a bigger grin, you quietly watch as he shimmies his hand through the bracelet, starting to doubt if it’s even going to fit, but it snaps in place and moulds around his wrist perfectly and as he looks up at you, you swear you felt your nerves in your body shut down for a split second.

Then your breath hitches as his hand softly and gently picks up your hand. This can’t be happening. Watching his hand lift yours up to his lips, his baby blues peering up at you, he places a delicate kiss on the back.

“...I love you”

#elvis presley #im quite proud of this one #elvis #elvis fans #i love him #50s elvis #elvis imagine #elvis presley x reader #elvis x shy reader #elvis x y/n

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vibratingskull · 1 year ago

Note

Hello! 👋 I have a request if you don't mind. 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 Thrawn x f!reader reunion sex. F!reader was with Morgan, Bylan, Shin, and Sabine in finding Thrawn cause that's her man and she misses him and when they reunite, they have passionate alone time together 😏

Mmmmmmmmh 😋 smexy times with Thrawn, you have such good tastes anon. Plus Lars interpretation is DOING THINGS to me 😩🥵

Thrawnxf!reader

tag : reunion sex, cunnilingus, p in v sex, she/her reader and a bit of fluff

“What was first just a dream has become a frightening reality for those who may oppose us.” He casually says, closing the gap between him and the group with his signature smirk.

You straighten your back, gulping, your heart beating at 100 miles per hour.

Finally.

After ten years.

You can see him in all his glory.

Thrawn…

Your heart screams to throw yourself at him, everyone be damned, but it is a bad idea. None of them are aware of your relationship with Thrawn, you took great care in hiding that from them. This info is too sensitive to be known by anyone. Morgan would have tried to get rid of you if she knew, her thirst for power and glory pushing her to follow and obey Thrawn in all matters, but she’s not without deviances and you don’t trust her enough, Thrawn didn’t trust her enough either to reveal your relationship to her back in the Empire.

But you, you know her.

She always struck you as an odd choice for Thrawn to take as a protégé… She always lacked the genius he saw in Vanto and Faro, maybe it’s her undying loyalty that resembles obsession that pleased him? You doubt it. He surely only took her under his wings to know more about the Force and fight the jedis more efficiently.

“Great mothers, I salute you. Soon we should all escape this exile thanks to the help of Morgan Elsbeth.”

Oh that voice… so soft and melodic like in your memories. How much you yearned to hear it again. It makes you want to run into his arms and hug him tightly, to jump in his embrace and kiss him deeply.

But that would be stupidly dangerous. Elsbeth is too savage and you don’t feel those… Great Mothers. Something tells you they are the kind to exploit any weakness.

The discussion continues while your eyes remain on your man, your treasure, your cha’cah… He’s old. He seems tired and weary, his uniform is patched up. The weight of years really makes itself felt despite his haughty demeanor.

But to you he’s never been so handsome.

Nothing could compare to him and the moment of your reunion.

This instant is magic, timeless. A fairy tale. You feel light bubbles in your stomach. But you have one lingering fear…

“And you are?” he asks Baylan, clasping his hand behind his back as you remember him doing.

“Mercenaries” Morgan explains “Baylan Skoll, and his apprentice Shin Hati.” She presents them, they bow lightly to him, remaining humble. “And (Y/n)(F/n), but I think you already know her.”

You take a step forward and bow respectfully to him, a sour taste in your mouth. What if his sentiment faded during this ten years exile? What if he found comfort in the arms of one of his stormtroopers? What if you’re just too old for him now?

You look into his eyes as you raise back your head, he glares back at you with a light grin.

“I do remember. We used to work closely to defeat the enemy of the Empire together.”

“Indeed, Grand Admiral.” You nod humbly.

Oh to be close, you were close. As close as you can be. He takes his time to gauge you up and down with his little grin before turning back to Baylan.

“Then you must be General Baylan Skoll, of the Jedi order.”

----------------------------------------------------

You're fidgeting your fingers, laying on the bed.

You can’t sleep.

You’re well awake under the covers, eyes fixated on the stone ceiling of the cold room, mulling over your situation.

You find him! A hunt of ten years just ended, and you hoped for… more? Just after finishing the presentations Thrawn and Morgan locked themself in a room to strategize your next moves. Baylan, Shin and you were left arms dangling without anything to do. You tried to access the Chimaera to visit your old room but the captain, Enoch, stopped you and escorted you back to the stone citadel without a word.

You’re not welcome in the Chimaera anymore it seems.

Are your fears correct?

Did he find someone else?

You sigh deeply, turning in the cover again.You try not to think too much about it, you wished you could ask him for an explanation but each time you tried to enter the room a soldier stopped you. And you don’t think he would have appreciated to be disturbed in his brainstorming session for heart matters.

You bite your lips, feeling tears building behind your eyes. Even after ten years that still hurts like hell. You hoped for an explosive reunion, but you got a nod and a grin before getting ignored and relegated to a goon status. If only you could just cross path with him in the corridors, just one discussion to clear the air and know your situation for certain, if only-

You hear knocks at your door.

You raise your head. It’s almost 3am, who would come at this hour?

“Coming!” You shout, praying for it not to be Enoch with bad news.

You open your door to Thrawn, hands behind his back, and a serious gaze.

“Oh…” That’s all you can say, you thought he was already sleeping.

Apparently the session with Morgan only ended moments ago.

“May I enter?” he politely asks.

You step to the side, signaling him your permission. He enters slowly, like he’s discovering the room. You close the door and cross your arms, as much to protect you from the cold than to protect yourself from what he could throw at you.

“Is something wrong?” you ask, a little anxious.

He spins on himself, turning to you.

“Nothing is wrong, dear. Nothing has ever been this brighter in ten years.”

You smile a bit, nodding.

“Yeah, I guess finally seeing your rescue group must lift a heavy weight off your shoulders.”

“It is true. But I was not referring to that.” he counters. “Approach.”

You tilt your head, walking toward him. He extends his hand to you and you take it, wondering what he wants. He inspects your left hand and a smile graces his lips.

“You are still wearing your wedding ring.” you think you hear some relief in his tone but you can’t be sure.

“Yes. I kept it for all those years.” you admit.

“Does it still have value in your eyes?” he asks suddenly.

“What do you mean?” you frown.

“Your ring. Does it still hold any meaning to your heart?” he demands with gleaming eyes.

After a hesitation you nod.

“Yes. Yes it does.”

He looks into your eyes, as to see if you were lying and sighs of relief.

“You ease my heart.” he takes his left hand from behind his back into your hand, revealing his own ring “I kept mine too. It reminded me of you everyday.” He kisses your hand reverently.

You observe his ring on his finger, feeling your heart dilating with relief.

He didn’t forget you…

“Thank Maker.” you whisper, closing your eyes.

“Cha’cah.” you reopen your eyes, feeling his warm palms on your cheek “I am blissful to see you. I missed you terribly.”

“I missed you too.” you throw yourself in his arms, circling him tightly.

He squeezes you against his heart, kissing the top of your head.

“I am here, cha’cah. And I am not going anywhere this time.”

You raise your gaze to meet his, full of hope.

“You promise?” you hear your voice crack “I already lost you once, I won’t survive losing you a second time.”

“I promise cha’cah. From now on we will remain together, fight together, rule together…” he tries to appease you.

“I don’t care about ruling anybody, it’s you that I want!” You bury yourself against him, digging your nails in the fabric of his white uniform like he would evaporate. You don’t care about any powers, all you came here for is to bring him home, you will think about power after.

“You are right as always. I am sorry. This is the most important.” He murmurs as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, deeply inhaling your scent.

He looms over you with his height, shielding you with his large shoulders. You start hearing a faint purr as he breathes in your musk.

“You smell lovely.” he finally says after a minute of silence.

“Yeah right!” you giggle “I’m sweaty and there aren't any showers here.”

“Well it is lovely nonetheless.” He inhales again with a growl of satisfaction “It is doing things to me…” he sighs deeply satisfied.

He starts kissing your exposed neck as you chuckle.

“Doing things to you? What happened to my unshakable Grand Admiral?”

“Maybe the unshakable Grand Admiral would like to revel in your delights.” he says lowly, pushing you gently against a wall.

You’re pressed between the cold stone and the large wall that is his chest, he kisses your neck, your jaw, stops to devour you with his red gaze and finally kisses your lips. You close your eyes to savor it, opening your mouth to let him enter. His tongue passes past your lips to hug and dance with yours. You moan against his soft lips, indulging yourself in the languorous kiss. His purr grows louder, a hand in your hair to press your lips against his, his other hand snakes its way in your back to pull your body against his. You circle his shoulders with your arm, a hand passing in his hair, dishevelling him. The kiss became heavy and feverish, his hands sliding under your shirt, caressing your bare skin with his warm palm. You part with him to start unbuttoning his jacket with haste, barely containing your desire to simply tear it apart to gain access to his body. Thrawn chuckles darkly.

“I do not remember you so hasty.”

“We didn’t have 10 years to compensate.” you counter, you wince because a stupid button refuses to open.

He kisses your forehead tenderly and opens it for you, taking his sweet time deliberately.

“I don’t wanna play tonight.” you say between a plea and an order.

“You are right, this is cruel of me.”

He finishes to open his jacket at a more acceptable pace and take it off, leaving himself in his signature black tank top.

“Maker, your taste in fashion hasn't evolved in ten years.” you giggle.

He sighs and tackles your feet. You yelp in surprise, losing your balance but he catches you with expert hands and carries you bridal style to your basic bed. He lays you down, looming over you like a predator and kisses you again, pulling your shirt over your breast and sliding your bra under it to expose your sensitive tits. He lapps them avidly, licks across the mount and sucks them like he would gulp down a treat, groping them with his large warm hands. You whimper and arch your back under his ministrations, how right does it feel to feel him on you again…

He kisses your tit and passes to the other, giving it the same treatment while massaging the first one. Your breath gets stuck in your throat and you feel your pussy starting to leak with your slick and soaking your undergarment. You want his lips and hands everywhere on you at the same time, you want to feel the weight of his body on yours, pining you into place, you want him deep inside you.

“Hurry… Please hurry…” you whimper as his tongue works on your nipple.

“No.'' He berates you gently “I have been deprived of you for so long, let me enjoy it as I please.” He slowly trails his way down your stomach with his tongue, leaving a trail of fresh saliva from your breast to your tummy. He reaches the hem of your pants and takes a good lick at your venus mons with the flat of his tongue. He kisses it swiftly and opens your pants with deft hands.

“First, let me indulge myself in my favorite treat.” he says with a short breath, a rare visible sign of his excitement.

You try to raise your bust on your elbow to have a better view when he slides your panties to the side to gain access to your wet cunny. He blows on it lightly, letting the cold hair hit your sensitive bud. You whine, your pussy demanding attention urgently. He chuckles and kisses your pussy lips before taking a fat sloppy lick with the flat of his tongue. You throw your head backward with a moan as he licks and laps you thoroughly, he focuses on your clit, sucking it and flicking his tongue, giving it extra intention, eating you out as good as you remember him doing. Maker, in ten years he didn’t lose his touch, you feel yourself getting wetter and wetter. He looks straight into your eyes as he does it, unashamed, growling like a carnivore feasting on its prey. You inadvertently squeeze his head in the spasm of your thighs, his large hands come part them wide open to give him better access. You flush deeply, taking shallow breath you feel yourself trembling terribly as pleasure waves spread through your veins. He continues to tease you like a hungry man, unbothered by your trembling limbs locking his head in its place. The waves grow furious and you come on his face. You let yourself fall on the mattress, tired and ashamed.

“I’m sorry…” you whine between two gasps.

“Never apologize for that. It is exactly what I wanted and you delivered splendidly.” he purrs, working his tongue on your fold. Drinking your slick, he parts your folds and enters you and tonguefuck you thoroughly, darting and caressing your gummy spot so deliciously.

You didn’t know any other man during those ten years, you stayed faithful to him and rarely took the matter in your own hands because you were so busy working to get him back. Those ten years of abstinence got you so sensitive that one orgasm already took a toll on your delicate pussy. You grip his hair and face, trying to pull him off you but he doesn’t budge, remaining firmly in place.

“Thrawn… please…” you try.

“That is it. Call my name cha’cah, do not hesitate to scream it as you cum.” he coos, his swollen lips working on yours all puffy and soft.

You try to wiggle out of his grip but he holds down your hips firmly with a growl of disapprobation, warning you to never deprive him of your cunny. He purposely makes the most obscenes sounds to get you hot and bothered, to let you know that it is because of you he behaves like a rabid animal in heat, that he tossed both of your dignities to indulge in the sinful pleasures of the flesh. You moan under his skillful tongue, you are hypersensitive and already sore, how could you take another orgasm without shattering in a million pieces? Your pussy clench painfully over his tongue, you feel your muscles gorging themself with hot blood and puffing up.

“I missed that pussy.” He groans “You have no idea how much. Ten years without it was torture.”

“It… It wasn’t funny without you either.” you breathe.

“We will make up for it tonight, cha’cah. Do not worry about that.”

Oh you don’t worry about that, you worry about your spasming cunt. You feel your heart beating at max speed, ready to spring out of your ribcage. You feel your own blood beat furiously down in your core.

You come again, a powerful orgasm that tenses up all your muscles. You squirt in his mouth as you land on the mattress with a “oof”.

“Prodigious, cha’cah! You have done it!” He praises you, you can hear the warmth and the satisfaction in his voice and deep purr as he licks his lips hungrily. Thrawn adorns a smug smirk of making you cum two times. He kisses your clit and looms over you again, kissing you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

He places himself between your legs, raising up on his knees to take off his shirt and open his pants. You wearily push yourself in a sitting position to get rid of all your clothes sticky and full of sweat. You help him with his pants, seeing the bulge in the tight fabric. It must be painful for him, you think. He frees his erection and you take it in your hand, stroking it lazily and kissing its head. You lick his blue girth from the base to the tip, peppering kisses here and there. He inhales deeply, his head back, caressing your cheek. you take him in your mouth and circle his crown with your tongue. It is warm and heavy in your mouth, it makes you drool. You taste the saltiness of his pre-cum. You start bobbing your head when he gently pulls you off. You look at him without understanding, pouting like a child who just got denied a tasty candy.

“What you are doing with your mouth is delightful, cha’cah. But I want my cock inside your pussy as soon as possible.” He rasps.

You open your eyes wide.

In your pussy? No way.

You’re already so sore, he can’t be serious.

“Thrawn…” you whine “I can’t take another one…”

He gently pushes you back on the mattress, following you with a smirk.

“Of course you can, cha’cah. You are a big girl, you can take it and more. I trust you.” he licks and kisses your neck, weighing heavy on your more petite figure. You feel so safe under his warm, hot body.

He circles your waist with his arms and rolls on the side, pulling you on top of him.

“Ride me, my love. Take control.” He instructs.

You feel his dick poking at the plumpness of your ass, hard as a rock. You cry, your legs are already trembling, you don’t know if you can even ride him properly. You sigh and tiredly raise from your laying position to grasp him and align him with your sex. You ease yourself slowly on him, opening your mouth round at the full sensation.

Maker, he’s big! You forgot how much.

You’re stuffed to the brim, you can’t take more. His hands come caressing your waist to ease your muscles.

“You are doing great, cha’cah. Ride me as you please, what you want I will give.” He praises you.

You rise up and go down slowly, letting your slick act as a lubricant and it’s hardly a luxury given his girth. You breathe deeply through your nose and continue to ride him slowly, making circling motion with your hips. He can reach every spot with ease, you feel his tip brushing your cervix, deep inside you. You moan his name pathetically, your legs are barely working and you have difficulty raising your own weight on his shaft.

“Maker, were you always so tight?” he gasps with gleaming eyes.

You ride him sloppily as best you can, with Thrawn seizing your waist to help your motion, caressing you with his thumbs. He starts rutting into you delicately, but you can feel his eagerness bubbling under his skin. Despite that he respects the pace you choose.

When you reach the end of your rope you fall on him, gasping for air. He hugs you tight, kissing the top of your head while rutting deep inside you, one hand between your two bodies to caress your clit. You can’t move anymore, you really should work on your stamina, you think with a tired smile, letting him work. Your sore pussy is stretched to the max, your pussylips are all swollen and your abused clit is all puffy and nervous. You feel your inner muscle working to welcome his cock deep inside you, so much you feel waves in your stomach. His veiny shaft stretches you deliciously.

“Can I take the lead?” He softly asks.

You nod with a mumble, exhausted.

He makes you roll swiftly, getting on top of you again and installs a breakneck pace all of the sudden. He knocks the air out of your lungs, hitting your cervix with ease.

“Ha! Thrawn!” You manage to speak between two powerful thrusts.

“Hold on to me, cha’cah.” He indicates, panting, pressing himself against you and merely suffocating you.

Your head hits the headboard repeatedly, as you hold on to Thrawn for dear life. The scent of sex and his musk makes your head spin and the obscene noises of flesh hitting flesh resonate in the bedroom in an obsessing fashion. You gasp and mewls and whimper and sob, digging your nails in his large shoulders, his imposing figure shielding you completely. You let your gaze travel south and see how his cock disappears inside your body, a creamy O at the base of his shaft.

He rolls his hips like a jackhammer, pushing you into the mattress like it was nothing. You fear the bed will break, it’s clearly not made to bear such activities.

“It is so good, cha’cah. It is better than in my memories. Is it good for you too?” he asks, biting your lower lips.

“Yes, yes, yes…” you can only chant.

He plunges into you with force, at this point you’re more of a fleshlight he uses than an active participant. But you’re so exhausted, and the pleasure you feel is so great it stiffen your limbs, preventing you from moving. You feel your poor pussy getting abused, hit repeatedly by his mighty hips.

Despite his age, he really still got it.

It transports you back in time, with your younger self making love all night long, with him nuzzling against you, begging for another round while you just layed barely moving from exhaustion. In some way it is still the same, your older self just lasted less time.

You feel your pussy clenching on his cock again, and you just know you completely soaked up the sheets. You feel your slick and his pre-cum leaking of your cunny, running along your tight ass.

He holds your cheek tenderly and kisses you feverishly, muffling your mewls with his soft lips. His tongue comes to hug yours, languidly.

You cry his name as you cum again, seeing stars behind your closed eyes, tensing around his dick like it is trying to hold it deep inside, he kisses your cheek, purring loudly, clearly satisfied by his work.

His hips start jerking and moving erratically until he freezes, completely contracted, spurting long hot ribbons of seed in you. Your pussy milks him dry for all his worth.

He peppers your face with kisses, as you try to get back your breath.

“Can I remain inside? I want to enjoy you as long as I can.” he whispers in your ear.

You slowly nod, repressing a yawn.

He slides on the side, hugging you tight. You snuggle against him, your head against his beating heart.

“It was grandiose, was it not, cha’cah?” he kisses your forehead “I could go for another round if you wish?”

You hide your face in his chest with a pathetic whine.

“Alright.” He chuckles, “as you wish, my love."

You remain silent for long minutes, only listening to each other breathing. You draw circle on his wide chest with the tip of your finger before taking the floor.

"You're gonna find it stupid, but I was afraid you'd find someone else." You let out.

"Nobody could have taken your place, you are unique in my heart." Thrawn whispers back.

"Yet when Enoch refused me access to the Chimaera I thought our time was over." You turn your head to meet his gaze.

His hand comes grazing your cheek.

"I had to do… reforms to keep my troops alive. It was not against you. I will warn Enoch to give you free access to the ship first thing in the morning." He comforts you.

You pull the cover a bit over the both of you, thinking.

"I don't like Morgan." you let out "I don't trust her."

"Me neither. But she is a necessary evil to my plans."

"Necessary to the point of isolating yourself with her for hours?"

He gives you a sidelong glance with a smirk.

"Did you become jealous during those ten years?" he asks, amused.

"Yes, terribly. I want to know what you do with her." you demand.

"We simply planned our next campaign. I would like your opinion on some moves tomorrow, I trust your strategic abilities more than hers." He boops your nose and you wince exaggeratedly.

You remember the long hours you used to spend together, strategizing carefully each move, he asked your advices regularly, taking your opinions and suggestions very seriously despite his genius. You ended up sleeping at your desk several time but he would carry you to your shared bed and hug you tight... Those were simpler, nicer times.

You smile, looking in his magnificent red eyes.

"I love you, Thrawn." you murmur, eyes heavy with sleep.

"I love you, Ch'acah." He kisses your forehead "Sleep well."

@thrawnalani @justanothersadperson93 @al-astakbar @thrawnspetgoose @bluechiss

#thrawn x reader #thrawn x f!reader #thrawn x you #thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #mitth’raw’nuruodo #fanfic #vibratingskull #thrawn smut

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chiyuuchu · 4 months ago

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Kazuha meets his match <3 (31st July 2024)

Kadehara Kazuha x Reader

Prompt! Accompanying Aether to Liyue, Kazuha takes an interest in the traveler’s peer.

Aether and Kazuha had just arrived in Liyue, marveling at the bustling cityscape and its rich cultural vibrancy. The sun dipped low, casting golden hues over the rooftops and streets, as they wandered in search of a place to eat.

Aether suggested they visit a quaint diner he’d heard about, known for its traditional Liyue cuisine and warm atmosphere. As they entered, the scent of sizzling dishes and fragrant spices greeted them.

Seated at a cozy corner table, they were served a variety of delectable dishes. Amidst their meal, Aether’s eyes fell on a familiar figure just a few tables away. Y/N, a local dancer renowned for her traditional performances, was enjoying a meal with her friends—Hutao, Yanfei, Yunjin, Xiangling, and Xingqiu.

With a smile, Aether nudged Kazuha. “That’s Y/N. She’s a local dancer and knows all about Liyue’s traditions. She might be able to give us some insights into what i’m trying to figure out.”

Kazuha, intrigued, watched as Aether approached Y/N’s table with a friendly wave. “Y/N! Over here!”

Y/N looked up, her eyes sparkling with recognition as she saw Aether. “Aether! It’s so good to see you! And you must be...?”

Kazuha stepped forward with a charming grin. “Kazuha, at your service. It’s a pleasure to meet you, lady Y/N.”

“It’s very nice to meet you Kazuha. Say, aren’t you that wanted criminal at Inazuma? I’m sure Aether has told me about that before.” Y/n tilts her head with curiosity.

“I must admit, I’ve been told I have a knack for getting into trouble,” he said with a playful glint in his eye. “So, tell me, Y/N, do you think you’re into bad guys?”

Y/N laughed, a warm and melodic sound that seemed to harmonize with the ambient music. “Well, that’s certainly an intriguing introduction. But I do suppose it depends on how you define trouble.”

“Maybe I could show you sometime.” Kazuha said in his soft spoken voice.

Aether thought to himself: ‘He is definitely downbad.’

“Hey Y/n! Do you think we can join your dinner table tonight? I have not been in Liyue for quite some time.” Aether interrupted, clearly trying to get out of the sudden third wheeling position he was in.

“I suppose that I don’t see why not.” Y/n smiles.

As Kazuha and Aether joined Y/N and her friends, the table was filled with lively conversation and laughter. Hutao, ever the playful spirit, greeted Kazuha with a mischievous smile.

“Ah, another traveler! What brings you to our humble gathering?” she asked, her eyes twinkling.

Aether chimed in, “Kazuha here is just tagging along with me. We’re exploring Liyue and thought we’d drop by. Y/N has been gracious enough to let us join in.”

Yanfei, ever the legal expert and mediator, added, “It’s always nice to meet new people. And if Aether says you’re interesting, I’m sure you are.”

Kazuha’s eyes sparkled with interest. “I hope I can live up to the expectations. It seems like I’m in excellent company.”

Yunjin, with her grace and poise, nodded. “Now where were we? Oh! Y/N, tell us about your dance performances. I’ve heard they’re quite spectacular.”

Y/N’s face lit up as she spoke. “Oh, I’m very fortunate to perform traditional dances that celebrate Liyue’s heritage. It’s a blend of storytelling and art that connects us with our history.”

Xiangling, her eyes bright with curiosity, leaned forward. “I’ve heard you’re also gotten even more skilled with your polearm and Pyro vision. That’s a fascinating combination! How does that blend with your performances?” she quickly rambles with her enthusiasm.

Y/N nodded, clearly proud. “Yes, I sometimes do try to apply my abilities to add a dramatic flair to my dances. The fire especially help me to convey the message of the stories I perform.”

Kazuha, intrigued by this revelation, leaned in slightly. “Pyro wielding and a polearm applied into an artistic dance, you say? That sounds like a truly impressive combination. I must admit, I’m quite fascinated by it.”

Hutao raised an eyebrow, teasingly. “Careful, Kazuha. You might end up wanting to join one of Y/N’s performances yourself.”

Kazuha chuckled, his attention fixed on Y/N. “If it means I get to see such a talented performer in action, I just might take you up on that offer.”

As the evening progressed and the wine flowed, Kazuha's flirtatious nature became more evident. With a slightly tipsy grin, he turned to Y/N. “I must say, your talents and beauty are truly mesmerizing. I can’t help but be enchanted.”

Y/N laughed softly, clearly enjoying the company. “And what about you, Kazuha? What makes you such an intriguing person?”

Kazuha’s gaze softened as he took a sip of his drink. “Well, besides my charming self, I suppose it’s the sense of adventure and the appreciation for poetry that drives me. And tonight, I find myself captivated by someone who has stolen my attention so seamlessly.”

With a tipsy grin, Kazuha leaned in closer to Y/N, his words slightly slurred. “You know, Y/N, I have to say, your presence here makes this meal all the more delightful. I can’t help but feel that fate has a funny way of bringing people together.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed slightly as she smiled, clearly enjoying Kazuha’s attention. “And what do you think fate has in store for us tonight?”

Kazuha’s gaze softened as he looked at her, his flirtation taking on a more genuine tone. “Perhaps it’s simply a chance to enjoy each other’s company. But if you’re open to it, I’d love to hear more about your life in Liyue. I’m sure there’s much I can learn from someone as captivating as you.”

“If you insist Kazuha.” Y/n can’t help but smile.

The evening continued with laughter, stories, and more wine. Kazuha’s charm and Y/N’s warmth created a delightful atmosphere, making the night unforgettable for everyone involved. As they parted ways, Kazuha made sure to express his appreciation.

“This has been a delightful evening. I’m grateful to have met such fascinating individuals. And Y/N, your company has made the most of my night.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed slightly as she smiled. “I’m glad you enjoyed it, Kazuha. It was a pleasure getting to know you. If you’re ever free, you know where to find me.”

With a final wave, Kazuha bid farewell, leaving Y/N with a memorable impression and a sense of anticipation for what future encounters might bring.

The next week, Aether, having wrapped up his business in Liyue, went out in attempt to find Kazuha so they could sail back to Inazuma. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the city. He decided to check in with Beidou at her dock, hoping she might have seen his friend.

“Beidou, have you seen Kazuha around?” Aether asked as he approached the ship captain, who was overseeing the final preparations for departure.

Beidou looked up with a knowing smile. “Ah, Kazuha? He’s been out and about with that dancer girl—Y/N, right? They seemed pretty interested in each other’s company. I got to give it to him, I never took Kazuha as a guy interested romance.”

Aether’s curiosity was piqued. “A dancer girl? Where might I find them?”

Beidou pointed towards a nearby park. “They were headed towards the fountain area. You should find them there.”

Aether thanked her and made his way to the park. As he approached the fountain, he noticed Kazuha and Y/N sitting on the edge, laughing together. The fountain’s soft splashes and the twilight cast a romantic glow over the scene.

Kazuha was holding a small, wrapped bundle and, with a playful grin, presented it to Y/N. “I made this for you. I hope you like it.”

Y/N’s eyes sparkled as she unwrapped the gift, revealing a delicate handmade bracelet. “It’s beautiful, Kazuha. Thank you so much.”

As they continued to exchange laughter and warm words, Aether decided to make his presence known. He cleared his throat, walking up with a friendly smile. “Kazuha, we’re about to set sail. Time to come back to Inazuma.”

Kazuha looked up, slightly startled but still smiling. “Ah, Aether. I guess our time here has come to an end. But I’m glad we had this moment.”

Y/N gave them both a warm smile. “It was lovely meeting you, Aether. I hope you both have a safe journey and do let me know when you both will visit again.”

Kazuha rose. “I’ll make an effort to make that soon, my lady.” Giving Y/N one last, lingering glance before following Aether. As they walked away, Aether couldn’t help but ask, “So, how was your little date?”

Kazuha chuckled, his gaze still drifting back towards Y/N. “It was quite delightful. I believe we made some.. rather interesting memories.”

The two headed back towards the docks.

“I’d definitely come back just to see her dances again and perhaps maybe more.” Kazuha smiled mischievously.

#kazuha #kaedehara kazuha #genshin impact #genshin x reader #kazuha x reader #kazuha x you #kazuha x y/n #kazuha fluff

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liesmyth · 2 months ago

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may i humbly request a director’s commentary for any part of as long as it is day

omg omg very happily!! Writing that fic was a fantastic experience I love chatting about it

as long as it is day (The Locked Tomb, Time Loop, Gideon-centric; Gideon & John; Gideon & Wake; Gideon/Harrow)

Nonagesimus, you owed me so big. You spat on my gift of a perfectly good soul, you trapped me in the back of your head like a bad dream to be forgotten and brought me back to fight disgusting bloody wasps, and then you got me stuck in a nightmare whirl of the worst fucking night of my life. Which, you know. That’s really saying something.

This fic was written for a fic exchange for @augustmourn who had THE most beautiful collection of prompts ever. It was a struggle to pick only one to fill. I landed on the time loop idea and picked the ending of HtN because it's such a WTF moment for Gideon, with everything happening at once, and discovering who John and Wake are to her literally seconds before disaster.

I decided from the start I wanted Gideon to fight Heralds a lot and die a lot. I spent probably days sliding into @nikkicafeina's DMs to figure out the best John & Gideon's dynamic and we landed on John would be absolutely delighted to have a secret daughter!! who's also Harrow's cav!! That man loves finding His People. Meanwhile, Gideon who just watched John do HtN Act 5 would be extremely wary and pissed off at him. She is NOT impressed with her newfound father. Half the John & Gideon scenes in the fic are John going like, "Wait are you MAD at me?" and Gideon who reluctantly goes from "I want nothing to do with you but unfortunately you're literally God and I need your help to find my girlfriend" to, like... remembering that she grew up as a foundling on the Ninth daydreaming of the day somebody would come for her. She never had anybody before (Harrow is complicated) and now John wants to play cards with her while they're stuck in a time loop. Is he a good person? No. Does it matter? No. Nobody ever even pretended to care about her before.

Gideon & Wake was my favourite part to write. It was hard because Wake as a character is so complicated to me — the strength of her convictions but meanwhile she's sleeping with her mortal enemy on the DL! She will do anything to free her people up to and including killing millions! She only ever saw Gideon as a bio weapon but she says "I'm sorry" the first time they meet face to face! Ultimately, the version of Wake that Gideon meets is a revenant who only wants one thing. Gideon, who grew up talking to her mother's bones, has to put an end to Wake's mission because she needs John to help her find Harrow. As I said in the tags: the universe's WORST family reunion. I'm actually pretty proud of how the final Wake & Gideon scene came out because I gave myself feelings.

Random thoughts:

I love naming TLT fics after Bible verses especially when they are sort of ironic. This one is from John 9:4. “As long as it is day, we must do the works of him who sent me.” <- this means. Gideon baby girl you're not getting ANY sleep

I'm really pretty proud of how the Gideon voice came out ngl

Gideon POV grasp of the Lyctors and their dynamics was a blast to write. She does NOT care about the Lyctors, they could die for all she cares (should die probably) but I think she's in a unique position to understand their fucked up codependency. Nobody else understands what is like to go through immortality other than another immortal. She witnessed Mercy and John and Augustine all trying to kill each other the first time around. But she understands fucked up codependency and why John would never let Wake kill any of HIS Lyctors. They're HIS.

Gideon confronting Wake with the fact that the Ninth House nuns named her after the guy who killed her. I'm always thinking about whatever the fuck must have gone through between Wake and G1deon; I loved writing this line: “There are worse names,” she conceded. “He killed me, but he made it quick. Others wouldn’t have.”

Gideon (a normal person) describing the Heralds (disgusting space wasps) and the Mithraeum (bone palace central). I feel strongly that she'd actually like the Mithraeum! She grew up with Crux telling her "and even after you're dead you'll serve the Ninth as a skeleton". I feel like, to her, the idea of bones being used as decoration in a beautiful place instead of as manual labour is quite soothing.

I'm gonna be honest and admit I only came up with section header names so I could call one "2Emperor 2Murder". I think it captures the spirit of the books.

I had SO much fun with pronouns. Gideon-in-Harrow's body sometimes refers to the body she's inhabiting as Harrow's (I bit your lip) and sometimes it's both of them (I looked at the woman behind those eyes. She looked at us.) <- all of these are intentional and were fun to write.

John is the person who designed the #aesthetic of the Nine Houses. It's very important to me that he has a cool wizard sword of his own and he's absolute shit at using it. He's never had to get his hands dirty at close range before. He made himself cool weapons for cool factor and that's it.

I feel like a hack because SO many people liked the last line and it wasn't even mine.

I thought: Harrow, I’m coming. Which, you know. That’s what she said.

^ credit for this goes to @theriverbeyond who's THE Gideon expert in my life <3

WOW TURNS OUT I HAD A LOT TO SAY ABOUT THIS FIC. THANK YOU FOR INDULGING ME <3333

[fanfic writers director’s cut meme!]

#moondal514 #writing tag #askbox games #fic: as long as it is day #elle tlt posting #long post #fic director's cut

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skyrim-forever · 1 year ago

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The Dragonborn's Inferno

Since my silly little post about wanting to write a crossover TES/Divine Comedy garnered a lot of interest I decided to go ahead and give it a shot! This is a little scene I'm working on for Canto I of Inferno.

Tagging those who showed interested in reading: @greyborn2 @lucien-lachance @thana-topsy @naturalbornlosers @ladytanithia @alicehealer @abstractredd @saffronornah @faenamoonseeker @notoriousbastardlover @alpha-centauriiae <3

Thank you so much for your interest it was really motivating, I hope you enjoy!

Canto I

Ascended half-way up the mountain I found myself obscured in snow Confused, and I knew I lost the way

There was no way to tell where I was The snow blowing wildly in the wind To remember it sends a shiver down my spine

The wind so biting, but not worse than death itself Arkay’s embrace had eluded me that day For there was good to be found on that mountain

The wind had cleared to let me see That I was at the Throat of the World All of Tamriel within my vision

I could see much further than any time prior From the Adamantine Tower in High Rock To the festering jewel of Black Marsh

But the view did not remain mine alone For from behind me came the roar of a troll A frost troll, one that I had recognized

Having fought this valiant foe before I was surprised to have found it again Especially now, on one such day

The troll lunges for my arm Narrowly dodging it’s fearsome claws I went to ready an attack

I did not have time to go on the offence For a golden figure appeared between the troll and I Reduced it to nothing but dust

“Have mercy on me you, you the man before me” I shouted to the figure A figure which transformed into a man

A man of simple robes And medium length tawny hair Stood before me, his smile warm

“No longer a man, but in my mortal life I was one. I was born in the Imperial Province A commoner, meant to fulfill a divine purpose.

My youth was spent in debauchery, Until I found the Divines. Who never intended for me to rule.”

How could I have not known? I open my mouth to speak Fearful of stuttering in his presence

“For you are Emperor Martin Septim,

The leader, the martyr, who died for Tamriel. You who embodied Akatosh in that great battle.”

I finished my statement by bowing Grateful that he had appeared to me To know that I did not walk this plane alone

“I come to you now, in my true form, Despite it all, in my heart I am but a priest, acting in his will”

Gesturing for me to stand up, I obeyed the Emperor To which he spoke again to me

“You who have lived a thousand lives Dragonborn does not cover the extent of you life” The Avatar of Akatosh tells me

“You who have been Listener and Guildmaster, Moon-born and Vampire, Stormcloak and Legionnaire”

I was humbled by his kind words That the Hero of the Oblivion Crisis And last true Emperor, would even speak to me

“You flatter me my liege But I stand but a humble individual Graced in your divine light”

And I continued to speak my praises “You who, along with the Hero of Kvatch Succeeded in destroying Mehrunes Dagon”

Through the grace of Akatosh, he laughed A slight chuckle in good will Divinity had only increased his kindness

“I say nothing that is untrue friend, For I who has always known you, See in my heart you, truly, as Akatosh’s chosen”

The Avatar of Akatosh himself Saw me as an equal, even if my actions Pale in comparison to his

“Please, my Emperor, tell me about that day! The day Kvatch was attacked!” I plead with him

A warm smile emerged on his face “I’m afraid most memories have left me, Memories of my dear friend are gone.”

“Though I may not remember their name, Nor do I remember their face, I do remember the warmth of their friendship”

His eyes closed, basking in the memories “But I do not you are not unlike them Both prisoners burdened by destiny”

A moment of silence fell between us I waited for the last Septim to break it To which he did

“We must make haste Dragonborn, For I have been asked to guide you. Another divine quest is asked of you”

And so we left that mountain The highest point in Tamriel Followed his lead into the void.

#skyrim #the elder scrolls #tes #tesblr #oblivion #Martin septim #dragonborn #dovahkiin #Dragonborn's inferno #the divine comedy parody #I tried to capture Dante's simping for Virgil #which isn't hard because it's martin #who wouldn't think he's the greatest #he is the greatest #skyrim fanfic #tes fanfic #fanfic #fanficition

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valentinoappreciator · 6 months ago

Text

I FINISHED A FIC WOW LOOK AT ME GO!!

Media: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing: Vox / Valentino

Rating: E for Explicit

Word count: 8.3k

An assortment of tags: bottom vox, top valentino, first time bottoming (my beloved <3333), sloppy kissing, huge cock, vox's toxic masculinity, smoking, etc etc etc

Where else to read: AO3 (username: TheWeirdDane ; title: Rotten Apples For A Rotten Basket).

Brief summary: Vox falls into Hell. He finds Valentino. They have a good time <3

Author's notes: I started this before the show dropped, and I did not want to scrap it all and start from scratch, so... take this humble offering 🙏

--------------------------------

Everybody whispered and pointed. Mothers shielded their children’s eyes, turning them away from him while whispering to them. Vox was bewildered, to say the least, but also couldn’t deny feeling immensely important. Powerful, even.

Except... he had no idea why. He had no idea where he even was. All he knew was that there were clubs and bars wherever he turned. The sky was red as blood. The heat was oppressive. The buildings were either dilapidated or brand-spanking new - no inbetween.

He didn’t know where to go, and wandered aimlessly around this new, weird place. He had figured he would walk until his feet started hurting, and then he would sit down somewhere. Except, his feet didn’t start hurting, not even after hours of walking. At least it felt like hours, and looking at his phone confirmed it. Looking at the screen, he saw his reflection, and nearly jumped out of his skin. In place of his head was a rectangular TV screen with antennas on top. He didn’t feel much different, but evidently, he had changed a lot.

With a deep sigh, he went to the nearest bar, hoping to get some information. If nothing else, he would get something to drink; he was parched.

However, when Vox entered the bar - or club, or whatever it was - everyone cowered. Everyone aside from one person, who immediately fixed his posture and stared straight at him, clearly interested in him. He had a young woman on either side of him, leaning against him.

Vox looked around. Not knowing where to go, his feet, seemingly on their own, carried him to this stranger. He had no less than four arms, and his body was hidden behind a big, fluffy, red coat with black-white striped fur. He wore a hat and heart-shaped sunglasses.

“Where the everloving fuck is this?” Vox asked and came to a halt in front of the stranger, crossing his arms over his chest. “And why the hell is everyone afraid of me? And what is this?” He gestured to his TV-screen face.

The stranger grinned widely and leaned back on the red leather couch. Leisurely, he pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from one of the pockets of his coat. Lighting one of the cigarettes, he maintained eye contact with Vox as he blew smoke out into the air. The smoke was thick, heady, and red.

“And explain to me, why are we forgoing introductions, baby?” he asked. His voice was surprisingly deep and smooth, taking Vox aback almost as much as being called ‘baby’ by a man he didn’t know.

Vox blinked in perplexion, and the stranger snickered, leaning a bit forward while taking another deep drag of his cigarette. His eyes were hidden behind the sunglasses, but Vox could still feel his gaze heavy on him.

Vox was so surprised that he didn’t immediately answer.

“You must be new here, then, I take it.”

Vox nodded.

“I just woke up down here all of a sudden. I don’t even know how long ago.”

“Take a break, why don’t you, girls,” the stranger purred, and the young women flanking him got up and went to the bar, giggling. Then he spread out his arms on the back of the couch, staring intently at Vox.

“Now, what’s your name?”

“Vox,” Vox answered without even thinking. There was something about this man that oozed confidence. He clearly wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer, and seemed the type of guy to get what he wanted, when he wanted it.

“Vox,” the stranger repeated, as if tasting the name. He grinned widely. “That’s an unusual name.”

“I bet yours isn’t much better,” Vox snapped. The stranger raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t appear offended.

“Valentino. Pleasure to meet you,” he instead purred and reached out a hand in greeting. He wore black, well-fitting gloves. For some reason, Vox was compelled to take his hand in his, and shook it firmly.

“Will you now please tell me where the fuck I am?”

“Language, baby,” Valentino said and snuffed out the cigarette in a nearby ashtray. He never stopped grinning; it was becoming rather eerie. “You are, of course, in Hell. Yes, yes, I know, what a shocker. I bet you were a real good boy when you were alive, hmm? Well, babycakes, that doesn't matter shit. Down here, we’re all rotten apples, and if you bite into one, well,” he grinned widely, “then you get what’s coming to ya.”

Once more, Vox blinked in perplexion. Hell? Hell was real? But why was he down here? He had always been good! Well, mostly. Well, okay, maybe sometimes he had been good.

“Come. Sit,” Valentino offered and moved his coat so Vox could take a seat. He did, not really knowing why he followed the orders of a guy he didn’t know.

“I know it’s a big surprise, being in Hell and shit, but do you know what’s more?”

“Please, enlighten me,” Vox said tonelessly, staring at a couple of young women as they made their way onto a spacious stage with two poles.

“You’re one of the most powerful of us.”

Vox snorted.

“What could you possibly mean by that?”

“You’re an Overlord,” Valentino said, as if that explained everything. Vox sent him a look. Was this guy crazy? But he couldn’t deny that the very word imbued him with a sense of righteousness and power. Overlord...

“And what, pray tell, is an ‘Overlord’?”

“It means you’re powerful. You’re important. More important than almost anyone else down here. It means you have a penchant for something that others depend on. You can indirectly control others, Voxxy.”

Okay, clearly this dude was actually crazy.

“You’re crazy,” Vox therefore said, and for the shortest of seconds, so short he might have thought he had imagined it, Valentino’s demeanor changed. He bared his lips in a quiet growl, and looked like he was about to strangle Vox.

Then it was gone, leaving Vox with a sense of dread mixed with excitement, and an adrenaline rush he had never experienced before.

“Maybe so,” Valentino hummed, “but I know I’m right. Just give it time, baby.”

“Okay, can you stop with the ‘baby’?” Vox glared at him.

Valentino snickered, and had the audacity to simply shrug while sending him a toothy grin.

“Not likely, baby.”

Vox would very much like to have punched him, but he wasn’t the biggest fan of unprovoked violence. If it was deserved, however, it was another case entirely. Deciding to change the subject, he turned his attention back to Valentino.

“If you’re so smart and clever, then maybe you can explain why I have a TV screen for a head?”

Valentino shrugged again, but this time looked like he actually didn’t care.

“Probably something to do with how you died. You a nerd? Did you spend too much time on your precious computer and too little time with the pretty girls?”

Vox scowled.

“Or pretty boys. I ain’t judging, sweetheart. Look, either way, it seems your power down here is electronics. Very on-the-nose, I know, but hey, it’s good business. Everyone and their mother has a smartphone and a flatscreen TV nowadays. Imagine what you could do with that kind of power, Voxxy.”

Vox really wanted to punch him for the nickname, but he couldn’t deny the joyful glee welling up inside him. If he believed this crazy guy, he was important and powerful, and he could control others with his knowledge of electronics. That would be sick!

“Then, who are you?” Vox asked, somewhat tentatively.

“Valentino, Overlord of lust and depravity, at your service,” Valentino replied smoothly, taking off his hat in an old-fashioned greeting.

“So what’s your gig?”

“I rule the porn industry, as well as every speck of drug imaginable this side of Hell. If someone wants to fuck for money, they come to me, preferably crawling. If someone wants to exchange said money for their poison of choice so they can even cope with fucking for money, they come to me. Also preferably crawling.”

He laughed and lit another cigarette, watching Vox intently. Vox began sweating under the heavy interest.

“But... isn’t it a vicious cycle? If they use all their money on drugs, they need to do more porn to earn more money for more drugs to better cope with doing more porn.”

Valentino shrugged, and suddenly looked profoundly uninterested.

“And, pray tell, little Voxxy, why I should give a single fuck? It’s their choice. It’s not like I’m forcing these young men and women into doing porn.”

Vox frowned. He didn’t know about that. Sure, maybe Valentino didn’t exactly force them, but he had a feeling that he was extremely good at manipulating people into thinking that they chose this profession.

He didn’t push the subject, and they sat in silence for a couple of minutes, both of them just watching the women on the stage doing tricks on the poles and generally being very sexy.

“I can get you set up with anything you want,” Valentino then said, breathing out the same heady, red smoke. It smelled... wonderful, Vox noticed.

“I don’t do drugs or casual sex.”

“I mean anything at all. Not just drugs or pretty girls or pretty boys. A good place to stay, a good gig, as you put it. Anything you want. The sky’s the limit. All you have to do... is be my partner.”

Vox rolled his eyes. Of course. Nothing came without a price. Not even here in Hell. Yet, he found himself speaking before he even realized it. The words were as if foreign to him.

“And what, Valentino, would being your partner entail?”

Valentino grinned widely, tilting his head so that the light caught in his teeth. One of them was golden. His eyes were but narrow slits in his face.

“Nothing you won’t like.”

“You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Voxxy,” Valentino cooed and put a hand on Vox’s thigh. Vox nearly jumped off the couch, but Valentino’s hand was strong, pinning him to the soft, red leather. He stared at Valentino, loathing how his heart rate picked up the pace. What was it about this stranger that had his throat feeling dry and tight? He hadn’t debased himself with casual sex in years, and now it seemed he was ready to pounce on Valentino; a man he didn’t even know.

He looked away, decidedly watching the strippers doing their thing.

“I can get them down here for you,” Valentino crooned against the side of his screen. “The girls. I see the way you’re looking at ‘em. You desire them. One little word, that’s all, and they’re yours for the night, baby.”

“I don’t want them,” Vox said through gritted teeth.

“Then who do you want?”

“You’ll laugh at me if I say it.”

Valentino looked hurt, but despite having known the guy for maybe an hour, tops, Vox could see it was fake.

“Laugh at you? A fellow Overlord? I wouldn’t dare, Voxxy. Now, why don’t you tell Daddy who it is you want?”

Vox nearly choked on his own spit.

“There’s no way I’m calling you Daddy.”

“I never said you should.”

Vox’s eyes widened when he realized he had said too much, and that he had, inadvertently, stated his desire.

“Oh, fuck,” he cursed under his breath as Valentino slowly straddled his lap, letting the coat pool around them. Valentino grinned widely as he stroked Vox’s screen, leaning in close. His breath smelled of cigarette smoke and strong booze. Somehow, it was intoxicating.

“Language, baby.”

Vox tried pulling away, but all of a sudden, Valentino had a firm grip of his screen, holding him in place while he crashed their mouths together. Vox wasn’t even he had a mouth, what with having a TV flatscreen for a head and all.

At first, Vox was completely shocked. He had not seen this coming - although, in hindsight, he really should have - and his first instinct was to struggle to get free. This, however, only seemed to spur Valentino on, because he grabbed Vox’s hands with two of his own and guided them under his coat and on his ass.

“Just like that,” he rumbled into the kiss when Vox started relaxing.

Fuck it. After all, why not? Why shouldn’t he have some casual, no strings attached fun?

“Your place or mine?” he therefore murmured, relishing the way Valentino shuddered.

“Do you even have a place?” he teased. “Nah, mine’s better. Come.”

And, just like that, Valentino pulled Vox onto his feet in a flurry of coat and fur.

Valentino’s apartment was glamorous, to say the least. Just short of being too much, it was beautifully, lavishly furnished. Everywhere Vox looked, there was a surface perfect for fucking, and the more he got to know about Valentino, the more certain he got that this was entirely intentional. Valentino oozed insatiability and greed; there was no way this interior design wasn’t meant to entice whoever found themself trapped in his grasp.

Seconds after entering, Valentino practically threw him against a big, black, sleek piano standing in the corner of the living room. It was sturdy enough to not even jolt.

“Get up,” Valentino hissed, crowding Vox against the piano, two arms on either side of him. Vox bit back a moan and jumped onto the piano, looking up at Valentino, nearly salivating.

“Good boy,” he purred and kissed him again, hard and demanding and possessive.

Vox really should have taken notice of how possessive the kiss was. As it were, however, he was a slave to the pleasure smoldering in his stomach; he never wanted it to end.

“Don’t call me that,” Vox groaned, but there was no real power behind it, and it made Valentino laugh.

“Aww, and why not, baby? Does it make your cock hard?”

“Shut up!”

Valentino laughed again, placing a hand on either of Vox’s knees to spread them.

“Oh, it does make your cock hard,” he mused when he saw the unmistakable outline of a hard cock pressing against his pants.

“I swear to God, if you---”

A sudden slap to his screen, and his entire world jumped, then tilted. He groaned in pain.

“There’s no ‘God’ down here,” Valentino snarled while Vox got his bearings back. “I’d better not hear that name from your lips ever again. It’s your King or Lucifer down here from now on, got it?”

Vox groaned again, but nodded all the same. Mortified, he noticed how his cock strained even harder against his pants. As if he got off on the pain and humiliation.

“Good boy.” And just like that, his voice was smooth and pleasant once more, and he leaned in closer to kiss Vox’s neck.

Vox was pretty sure this was what whiplash felt like. Being hit one moment, then kissed the next. He could barely keep up with the rapid change, and shivered when Valentino’s lips found a thick cord in his neck. It buzzed with electricity, and practically crackled in excitement when Valentino kissed it hard. There was no doubt in Vox’s mind that he wanted to mark him. Valentino struck him as the kind of guy who got off on seeing his marks on his partners - in whatever way he could get away with.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, fisting one hand in Valentino’s soft, fluffy clothes.

“Watch it,” he growled and sent Vox a warning glance, “that coat is expensive. You’d better not damage it.”

Vox rolled his eyes, and was about to say ‘It’s just a coat,’ when Valentino suddenly bit down. They both groaned loudly, and Valentino pushed Vox flat on his back on the piano, his sharp teeth mere inches away from tearing into the main cord of Vox’s throat. Vox shuddered and arched his back, bundling up Valentino’s coat even more. It wasn’t even to spite him, it was just a natural, instinctive reaction.

Even Valentino seemed affected. Small jolts of electricity ran through Vox’s cords, enough to slightly zap Valentino, who moaned and started grinding against him. When Vox felt what he was packing, his eyes widened, and he automatically tried pulling away.

No fucking way that was going to fit.

He wasn’t successful, however; Valentino had his slim waist in an iron grip, holding him in place.

“What is it, baby?” he cooed, leading Vox to think that he knew the reason for Vox trying to escape. “Don’t think you can handle it?”

Honor and dignity be damned.

“There’s no fucking way you can make that thing fit inside me. It’s like a third fucking leg!”

“Aww, you flatter me, Voxxy. But don’t worry your pretty head about that. Daddy will make it fit.”

Vox narrowed his eyes at Valentino. There was no way he was going to call Valentino ‘Daddy’. There simply wasn’t.

“Come on, baby, get undressed and get on the piano again. I’m sure you’ll sound way prettier when I fuck you than that old thing ever could.”

It was like he was under a spell. He hopped down from the piano and began taking off his clothes, looking at Valentino the whole time. Once he had shucked himself out of his jacket and stripped himself of every article of clothing, he looked at the piano.

“Don’t we need... like, something to sit on?” he mumbled, his screen heating up in embarrassment.

Valentino simply shrugged, then shook his head.

“I have an excellent team of cleaning assistants. Don’t worry about a thing, baby. Now, get to it, get back on the---”

He stopped himself mid-sentence, and the slowly widening grin on his face made alarm bells go off inside Vox’s head.

“Actually, baby, no. It seems daddy changed his mind. On your knees.”

Vox narrowed his eyes up at him. It really wasn’t difficult to imagine where this was headed, or what Valentino wanted now. He most likely wanted his dick sucked. And while Vox wasn’t new to blowjobs, he doubted he had sucked anything like what Valentino was packing.

When he didn’t immediately obey him, Valentino’s grin widened even further.

“I’d strongly recommend reconsidering not doing what I tell you to do, Voxxy,” he purred and fished out another cigarette. Vox would never admit it, but his gaze followed those incredibly dexterous fingers very intently. He watched as they put the cigarette between his lips, as the red lighter was flicked open to ignite it, as the lighter was closed again. He watched as the end of the now lit cigarette smoldered as Valentino took a deep puff.

He found himself wetting his lips.

Valentino’s rumbling chuckle brought him out of his trance.

Wordlessly, he sank to his knees.

“There’s a good boy.”

Vox inhaled sharply and forced his attention in front of him. Valentino was kind enough to spread his coat to the sides. Suddenly face-to-face with the massive bulge, Vox’s mouth watered. His cock was covered in a skimpy, black thong that honestly didn’t cover much. Swallowing hard, he inhaled the scent through his mouth, and couldn’t help a soft groan.

Thick, heady, and almost too much, that scent invaded his brain and muddled everything together in a way he had never experienced before. It was new, it was terrifying, and it was exhilarating.

His eyes drifted shut, and he found his tongue lolling out of his mouth without even making the conscious decision to open it in the first place.

“Oh my, but what a tongue,” Valentino purred, putting a hand on Vox’s screen before dragging his long claw-like fingers over it. Vox shuddered, but didn’t open his eyes to look at his new tongue. Instead, he felt it keep winding out of his mouth. It was a strange sensation.

Eventually, he let his tongue slither under the thong. He opened his eyes and grabbed at the sides, pulling it down in a fluid motion. As he shifted the garment down, he noticed the fishnet stockings that disappeared under thigh-high, black, shiny boots. His cock throbbed hard. Despite the haze of arousal, he wondered if Valentino would do anything to him for leaking onto the pristine floor.

Even if he did, Vox realized as he touched his tongue to the almost searing hot cock, it would probably feel good.

Maybe.

Probably depended on the amount of fluid he leaked.

Valentino let out a long sigh and leaned his head back for a brief moment before bringing his attention back to Vox. Their gazes locked, and Vox felt a shiver race down his spine.

“Don’t be shy, baby,” Valentino cooed, grinning down at him. His fingers dragged over his screen before playing with his antennas. This got Vox to jolt and moan. Electricity crackled between them, prompting a snicker from Valentino.

“Oh, does that do it for you, darling?”

Vox’s screen felt like it was overheating, so, instead of trying to quip back something smart, he snaked his tongue around Valentino’s cock. His cock was obscenely huge, but Vox’s new tongue was long and prehensile, and could almost wrap itself all around him. Valentino purred before taking another drag of his cigarette. Vox’s cock bobbed eagerly.

He really should examine that reaction. Not that he would, though.

“Well? Get to it,” Valentino said. “Don’t think you can get away with wrapping your tongue around my cock and call it a day.”

“I wasn’t trying to,” Vox huffed, and wriggled his tongue against the hot flesh. Valentino hummed, piercing Vox with his gaze. Pulling the long, wet muscle back into his mouth, he put his mouth to use. Wrapping his lips around the tip of Valentino’s cock, he licked against the slit a few times, testing the waters.

Valentino hissed but it was a sort of, almost high-pitched sound that told Vox he should not even think about stopping. So, Vox continued. Suckling gently on the head, he pressed his tongue over the hole repeatedly, and Valentino rewarded him by groaning deep in his throat.

It was like a drug to Vox. That groan did more for him than anything else Valentino had done or said tonight. He instantly craved more, and as such, he took him deeper into his mouth.

“Watch the teeth,” Valentino hissed, even though Vox’s teeth weren’t even close to touching him. Vox shuddered nonetheless, a feeble moan seeping between his lips, stretched around Valentino.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he continued in a low coo, and began stroking Vox’s antennas, much to Vox’s delight. “See what happens when you’re good to me? Then I’m good to you.”

Vox shuddered, his eyes closing again as another moan dripped from his mouth. Truly, Valentino’s scent was sending him into a dizzying, lust-filled spiral.

Convincing himself that he could deepthroat Valentino, Vox’s mouth sank further onto Valentino’s cock. Further than he should be able to. Above him, Valentino groaned, and his hand began stroking between Vox’s antennas.

“That's it,” he repeated gruffly, and, much to Vox’s horror, began thrusting.

His cock repeatedly slid back towards the back of his mouth, and pushed into his throat. Vox gagged and shuddered but forced himself to accommodate the obscenely big cock.

“And you were worried you couldn’t handle it,” Valentino crooned, dragging his claws along the underside of Vox’s screen, prompting him to drool. “But look at you now, baby. You’re practically swallowing me like a trained whore.”

Vox would have loved to try and dispute this, but truth be told, he did take Valentino much easier than he thought he would have, and chalked it up to his new anatomy, and powers, if he believed him.

No matter if he did or not, he was having a... rather good time, actually. His cock certainly was.

His eyes widened when Valentino grabbed his screen with two hands and began downright fucking his face. His third hand kept the cigarette steady between his lips, and the fourth was on his hip. Vox loathed how attractive he found him, but there wasn’t time to dwell on that; Valentino’s ruthless thrusts demanded every ounce of his attention.

“Just like that...”

Yet, even as his mouth and throat were filled with cock, he found himself strangely... relaxed. His eyes fluttered closed as pleasure surged through him. He used both hands to steady himself against Valentino’s hips, but he was getting increasingly desperate for any kind of touch. As such, he opened his pants with one hand and pulled out his cock. Just that simple act had him shivering, and he immediately began stroking himself.

“Aww, are you that desperate just from sucking my cock, baby?”

Vox pretended not to hear him.

“Why didn’t you say anything? I could help you, y’know...”

He opened his eyes to squint up at Valentino. He smiled innocently, but Vox knew it was an act. He had known this man for... shit, nothing more than a few hours, and yet, he could see there was no innocence in him.

Vox was about to pull back to mutter something like “Yeah, well, you kept my mouth busy,” but then Valentino did something that made Vox choke on his cock.

He leaned back against the piano nonchalantly, and then pressed the shiny snout of his boot against Vox’s cock. Vox sucked in a breath around Valentino, blushing fiercely as he was laughed at.

“Oh, you really were that desperate, hmm?” he snickered, rubbing the point of his shoe over the head of Vox. Vox was mortified at how hot he found this entire situation; a stranger shoving his cock as deep in his throat as it could go, while the very same stranger was pleasuring him with the prettiest boots he had ever seen.

And what was more, they didn’t just look sleek; they were sleek, and delightfully hard. So, naturally, seeing as Vox was already leaking copious amounts of pre-cum, the pressure sent intense frissons of pleasure through him. He hissed quietly, closing his eyes tightly, and focused on bobbing his head up and down on Valentino’s cock. Or, he tried to, anyway.

The boot was quite a distraction, making him falter slightly.

“Something the matter, baby?” Valentino crooned, and laughed mockingly when Vox let out a pathetic moan on his way up. “Fuck, you’re really needy, aren’t ya?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Vox grumbled, very purposefully not looking at him as he went down again.

“Ah-ah, doll. Language.”

Vox rolled his eyes.

Valentino grinned widely down at him, but Vox was determined not to meet his gaze. So, he tried to focus on sucking him off, even with the boot now nudging his balls. Rubbing against them, making him shudder. He longed for a hand to wrap around his cock while that delicious boot prodded his balls, but he would be damned - well, guess he could scratch that from the list - before he asked Valentino to touch him.

The cock in his mouth throbbed, and Vox couldn’t help but moan around it, his eyes fluttering closed.

“I gotta say, Voxxy, baby, you’re better at this than I thought you’d be. Not the first cock you’ve sucked, hmm?”

Vox blushed fiercely, but was still determined not to look up into what he knew would be a way too smug face. His own cock bobbed needily, pre-cum sliding down the shaft. It tickled a bit.

“It hardly matters,” Valentino went on, exhaling a plume of red smoke. “You’re cute. Your mouth and tongue are doing a pretty good job.”

Vox bristled at being called ‘cute’. ‘Cute’ was for ladies and sissies, and he was neither!

He was about to give Valentino a piece of his mind, when Valentino put a hand on the back of his screen, and forced him to take him so deep his gag reflex finally protested. As his throat contracted, Valentino grunted and pushed against him as well, ensuring that his cock went all the way into Vox’s throat.

“There you go,” he rumbled, a tight edge to his voice telling Vox he was close. “Just like that...”

Vox squirmed in his grasp, finding it was futile. Valentino was a lot stronger than he looked, apparently.

“Fuck, your throat is so tight,” he rasped, rocking his hips slightly, just to trigger Vox’s gag reflex over and over again. “Can’t wait to try your ass. Bet it’s even tighter. Bet you never bottomed for anyone, huh, baby?”

Vox’s eyes went wide, and he finally looked up at Valentino. He tried to tell himself there was no way he would let Valentino fuck him, but with every little move of his hips, and with every little demeaning word, not to mention his heavenly scent and taste, he quickly lost his resolve.

“Don’t worry, darling, I’ll be gentle with your cherry.”

Vox didn’t believe that for a second, but he couldn’t hide how much the idea turned him on. His cock bobbed hard, and several more drops of pre-cum trickled down his shaft. Valentino must have noticed, somehow, because he threw his head back in a mocking, full-body laugh.

“Ohh, Voxxy, aren’t you just full of surprises,” he grinned once the laughter had petered out, and took another deep drag of his cigarette. He blew the smoke out towards Vox’s face. Despite being quite busy, Vox managed to inhale the smoke, and just like that, every thought of disobedience, every speck of misbehavior, was snuffed out.

He heaved a deep, shaky sigh. His entire body sagged instantly. Suddenly, his mind seemed blissfully empty.

Valentino snickered.

“There you go, baby,” he purred, stroking Vox’s screen and finally letting him pull back.

Vox hadn’t even paid attention to that, but now that he could finally breathe again, he realized just how much he had needed the air. The boot was withdrawn at the same time, and another pathetic moan left Vox’s lips, but there was no way he would beg for more.

“Come, onto the piano, darling.”

Valentino helped him get to his feet. Wobbling a bit, Vox managed to hop onto the black, shiny piano. He was vaguely aware that he was panting like a dog in heat, and decided never to examine that ever.

“Ohh, don’t you just look ravishing,” Valentino crooned as he leaned in over him, caging him between three arms, the fourth holding his cigarette. “Spread your legs. Yes, good just like that, good boy.”

Vox’s cock, at this point, was so hard that he felt like the lightest, most fleeting touch would make him come. He whimpered - honest to Go--- Lucifer - whimpered and threw his head back against the piano.

“Fuck, Valentino, please touch me,” he pleaded. Dignity be damned. He was already in Hell, why not indulge himself?

“I thought you’d never ask, baby,” Valentino said with the widest grin Vox had seen on his face yet.

However, Valentino didn’t immediately touch him. Vox let out a frustrated sound and tried to glare up at him. He wasn’t sure how well he succeeded. Valentino raised an eyebrow, a smug smile replacing the wide grin.

“Oh, you meant now? Well, why didn’t you say so!”

A singular claw slid down over his shaft, and Vox was not proud of the way he groaned, or the way his back arched. A shuddering sigh escaped him.

“Fuck,” he snarled, the word barely a word for the way his lips curled it.

“Language, darling,” Valentino said in a casual tone before wrapping a hand tightly around his cock. Vox gasped loudly, but was not given time to register the touch, before Valentino was pumping him hard and fast.

As he had expected, his orgasm had been at most five strokes away.

The high was unmatched. It took over his brain and completely fried it. His entire body spasmed and jolted from the power of his climax. He was vaguely aware that his antennas were crackling with electricity, only noticing because said electricity was surging through his every nerve ending.

Panting and moaning, he eventually sagged back against the piano, trembling something fierce.

“That was fast,” Valentino teased, squeezing out a few more drops and making Vox squirm, accompanied by a whimper.

“S-Shut up,” he muttered.

“No. No, baby, I don't think I will.”

Valentino let go of his cock and gave Vox about three seconds of relief before he grabbed his long, skinny legs with two hands and pushed them towards his chest.

Despite still riding the high of his incredible climax, Vox was pretty sure that Valentino’s cock wouldn’t fit, and definitely not without a bucket of lube.

It looked like Valentino had decided to forgo that, however.

“H-Hey,” he stuttered, “don’t we, like, need lube?”

Valentino raised an eyebrow at him.

“We’re in Hell, baby, anatomy works differently down here.” He tilted his head in a way that made the light catch in his golden tooth. Somehow, he managed to look even more menacing. “Not to mention injuries. You’ll heal in no time,” he added casually, making Vox recoil.

“Injuries? If you think you’re going in dry, you’re out of your mind!”

“Who are you to stop me?” Valentino snickered. He snuffed out his cigarette in a nearby ashtray that Vox hadn’t even noticed, and pinned Vox to the piano with two hands. A third went to grab his own cock, while the fourth wound around Vox’s throat. Vox swallowed hard, and desperately tried to tell his body that this was not hot!

His body didn’t listen. Not that it had since he had ended up down here, come to think of it.

“I’ve been down here for centuries, Voxxy, baby. You might already be an Overlord, but I know things that would make your skin crawl.”

Vox stared up at him, breath catching in his throat when Valentino lined himself up with his hole. The spit-covered, blunt pressure was definitely a new sensation. He instinctively tried pulling away, but Valentino didn’t permit it. The grip was strong, and the hand around his throat tightened. Not much, just a fraction. As if it was a warning.

There was no doubt in Vox’s mind that it was just that.

So, despite his body trying to tense and tighten everything, he forced himself to relax, exhaling deeply and lying flat against the piano. He stared up at the ceiling, listening to Valentino’s smug chuckle.

“See, you can behave. Good for you, baby.”

Vox scoffed and braced himself for the inevitable. It wasn’t like he didn’t want it; he just wished the roles were reversed. Annoyingly, Valentino was correct in assuming he had never been on the receiving end before. Vox had never imagined that he would take the woman’s position in the bedroom, and if anyone had told him he would do it for a man he had met just hours ago, he would have laughed in their face before throttling them.

“Are you ready, darling?”

“Yeah,” Vox said, loathing how tight and breathy his voice sounded.

Valentino clicked his tongue. Vox lifted his head to look at him.

“That simply won’t do, baby. That was pathetic.”

Vox squinted up at him.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Valentino drawled, “that you need to be more enthusiastic. I need to know that you want me.”

Vox scoffed again.

“I’m already on my back for you, Valentino. What more could you possibly want?”

The second the words were over his mouth, he regretted them. Valentino lips curled in a wide grin, the golden tooth catching in the light and nearly blinding him.

“I want you to beg.”

Vox stared up at him, incredulous.

“Out of the fucking question.”

Valentino put on a hurt expression that made Vox roll his eyes.

“You wound me, baby.”

“Shut up. I’m not going to beg you to fuck me just to stroke your already enormous ego.”

Valentino pouted down at him. Vox wasn’t fazed, and steeled himself. When he didn’t budge, though, Valentino sighed in such a deep, theatrical, and dramatic way that Vox’s own lips twitched into a smile.

“Fine,” he pouted, “guess I’ll just have to make you beg for me.”

“Good luck,” Vox snorted.

“Oh, I don’t need luck. I have another weapon.”

“Pray tell,” Vox said sarcastically, “what that is.”

“Stamina.”

Vox rolled his eyes, but couldn’t run from the way his hands clutched the edge of the piano when the head of Valentino’s cock pressed against him. Valentino must have noticed, because he chuckled.

“Nervous, baby?”

“It’s a third fucking leg!” he hissed, closing his eyes but trying to relax as that pressure against his hole increased.

“Language, sweetheart,” Valentino snickered. “Your mouth is awfully dirty.”

Vox didn’t quip something back, too focused on relaxing his body to know what to say. Finally, the pressure broke, and Valentino had breached his defenses. Vox gasped loudly, his eyes opening wide. Valentino let out a soft grunt, and the claws on his now free hand scraped over the pristine lid of the piano. It was a sharp sound that made Vox shiver.

Oddly enough, the pain wasn’t really that intense. Sure, it was there, and Vox squirmed to try and get away from it, but he honestly thought it would have hurt a lot more. Maybe Valentino had been right that anatomy was different down here...?

Either way, his squirming was futile. The hand on his throat withdrew to slam onto the piano, caging him in and making him feel utterly trapped.

“Fuck, baby, your ass is so much tighter than your throat,” Valentino grunted and slowly, almost too slowly, pushed into Vox. Taking inch after impossible inch, Vox’s eyes widened until he was worried they would roll out of his skull. Er, screen.

It wasn’t until Valentino told him to breathe that he realized he had been holding his breath.

“Breathe, Voxxy, baby, or you’re gonna pass out. Not that it makes a difference to me whether you’re conscious or not.”

Vox inhaled greedily, as if he had been forcefully denied air for far too long, and his entire body shuddered. Valentino’s cock pressed deeper inside him, making Vox arch his back and grit his teeth.

It wasn’t like it was that painful, but there was still an unpleasant and burning, stinging sensation with every delicious inch that Valentino pushed into him. His heart hammered wildly in his chest, banging against his ribs as if trying to escape, and his hands knuckled the edge of the piano so tight his knuckles went white.

Yet, he managed to relax.

“Look at you, darling,” Valentino crooned, “you’re taking it like a champion. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were one of my whores.”

“Shut up,” Vox growled, but there wasn’t much strength behind the words. Truth be told, the deeper Valentino sank into him, the better it felt. However, Valentino suddenly began pulling back, and Vox had to make a conscious effort not to whine.

When only the thick head of his cock was still inside, Vox swallowed hard and breathed even harder. Valentino teased his rim by pretending to pull out. Vox failed to contain his whine this time.

“Valentino,” he croaked as another shudder wrecked through him. He didn’t want to realize how much he was panting, but he knew it from the rough dryness of his throat.

“Don’t be silly, baby, you can call me ‘daddy’. No need for formalities!”

“Not in a million years.”

Valentino grinned and leaned down over him, so close their faces almost touched. Vox swallowed thickly.

“Call. Me. Daddy,” he said, and the tone he used didn’t broker any arguments. Vox made a face, yet still licked his lips.

“You’re out of your mind,” he then hissed. Valentino sighed dramatically and put a hand on his chest.

“Once more, you wound me.”

Vox snorted while rolling his eyes.

“I’m so sorry, your highness.”

“Oh, you’ll be sorry, alright,” Valentino purred, and all the hurt he had feigned was gone, instead replaced by a malicious grin.

He didn’t allow Vox time to ask what he meant, before he had slammed deep inside him. A cry ripped itself from Vox’s throat, and his back formed an arch. His hands automatically went to grab at the front of Valentino’s coat, tugging him down. Valentino laughed, but it sounded just a tad breathless. He cooed and pressed his body against Vox’s, squeezing him against the piano and rendering him somewhat out of breath as well.

Despite not appearing to weigh a whole lot, Valentino’s body was surprisingly heavy, not to mention warm and... oddly comforting. Vox decided there was no need to examine this little fact; not now, and not ever.

“You’re... out of your... fucking mind,” he repeated, panting and shaking, but not letting go of Valentino’s coat.

Valentino chuckled, and one of his hands caressed Vox’s screen, making pleasure slosh through his cords. He even tilted his head back to allow Valentino better access. How pathetic wasn’t that?!

Fortunately for him, in the next moment, Valentino had grabbed the side of his screen and pulled him up close. Vox stared up at him, heart beating so hard and fast it was almost painful, and didn’t realize his mouth had fallen open before Valentino’s tongue was winding itself inside. He groaned loudly, eyes closing seemingly all on their own, and happily let Valentino invade every part of him.

Valentino moaned, but it was much more dignified and calm than Vox’s desperate whining.

His tongue was long and slick, and oh fuck, did it feel good!

It slithered into his throat where it actually began thrusting. A shaky, pathetic groan left him, and Vox shuddered, his claws threatening to tear through Valentinos coat. His cock bobbed hard.

When his tongue finally withdrew, Valentino grinned widely. It filled Vox’s vision and made him blush.

“Oh baby, you’re so easy. Good boy,” he purred, once more stroking Vox’s screen so tenderly he nearly felt it was genuine. ‘Nearly’ being the keyword.

“S-shut the fuck up,” Vox grumbled. Valentino laughed mockingly.

“Pretty baby,” he grinned and kissed him again, before beginning to thrust hard and fast into him. The pace jerked his body over the piano, and though it was somewhat uncomfortable - when had the pain dissipated? Vox wasn’t sure; he wasn’t sure of anything anymore - the pleasure was quickly building in his lower stomach.

This time, the tongue kept itself inside Valentino’s mouth, and it was just their lips sliding against each other as Valentino mercilessly pounded into Vox’s lithe, trembling body.

“T-Too hard,” he gasped, desperately pawing at and gripping Valentino’s coat. He hissed when that wonderfully delicious cock hit something inside him, and although his eyes were still closed, he saw stars. A loud, shrill moan escaped him. He leaned his head back against the piano, his breath coming in sharp, short gasps. His cock throbbed fiercely, pre-cum rolling down the shaft.

“Nonsense,” Valentino said casually, as if he wasn’t even breaking a sweat. “You can take it, can’t ya? You’ll be a good boy for Daddy, yeah?”

“Fuck o-o-off!” Vox groaned, the last word drawn out when Valentino slammed against that spot inside him again, and then again, and once more, until it became clear to Vox that his mission was to make him come without even touching his cock.

Vox desperately wanted to jerk himself since Valentino wouldn’t, but when he moved his hand downwards, Valentino grabbed it, as well as his other hand, and pinned them to the piano. A menacing grin filled his vision, and Valentino, with laser precision, rammed against that specific spot so hard it was almost too much.

“Nu-uh, baby,” he purred, “just let me take care of ya, okay?”

If Vox had had eye sockets, his eyes would have rolled desperately in them, and no matter how cool he wanted to appear, he was quickly losing that particular battle.

Valentino’s remaining two hands slid down his sides, grabbed his hips, where the grip got tight. Vox didn’t doubt that that grip would bruise. The idea was oddly exhilarating.

Vox grit his teeth to avoid sounding too desperate. Valentino snickered, bending at the hips to sink his teeth into Vox’s throat. Hard.

Combined with the ruthless, merciless thrusts he was being subjected to, Vox didn’t last much longer. He groaned loudly as the sharp teeth latched onto his throat, and, as much as he tried to wrestle free of the iron grip, his hands were still pinned to the piano.

“Valentino,” he whimpered, knowing in his mind that he was mere minutes away from reaching his climax. “Val, I-I can’t--- it’s too much, please---!”

“Ohh, breaking out the pet names already?” Valentino snickered after letting go of his throat. “But no, I insist. Call me daddy, or you won’t get to come, baby. Trust me, I can do a whole lot better than this.”

Vox shuddered.

“All you gotta do,” Valentino crooned against his screen, his long tongue licking over the side, “is say that one, single word. Can’t be that hard, can it, baby?”

Vox bit his lower lip, but still couldn’t stop himself from crying out when Valentino, somehow, increased the pace. He felt his teeth chatter, and each relentless thrust was followed by a sharp, choked-off whimper.

Valentino scoffed.

“I admire your resilience, sweetie, but it would feel so much better if you just... gave in. Let me hear you.”

Vox groaned loudly, his hands balled into fists. He thrashed in the iron grip, and stared hard up at Valentino. Well, as hard as he could, given the circumstances.

“Call me daddy,” he said, a wide and menacing grin filling Vox’s vision. “It will feel so good. That’s a promise, baby. Trust me.”

Vox shuddered, and couldn’t deny the appeal, for some reason. Surely it was just the arousal making him so insane that he even considered it. He tried to conjure up a hard shine in his eyes as he glared at Valentino.

Valentino grinned, repeatedly abusing that amazing spot inside Vox.

“Yeah, baby?”

Fuck it all. Fuck it all to, well, to Hell.

“Daddy,” he said through gritted teeth.

The relief was immediate and hit him so hard that he almost blacked out.

“Good boy,” Valentino crooned, pulled him back to meet his merciless thrusts, and licked over Vox’s screen again. Vox’s eyes closed all on their own, but suddenly, his mouth couldn’t shut up.

“Daddy, f-fuck, fuck fuck fuck!”

“Don’t worry, baby, daddy will give you the best high of your life,” Valentino promised, and with a singular thrust, sent straight against that bundle of nerves, made Vox come undone.

He cried out in a rather undignified way as his cock throbbed and jerked, his cum splattering all over his stomach and chest in the same second that Valento straightened up. Relief surged through him, and he was panting and groaning throughout the entirety of his climax. His whole body was trembling, hands clenched tightly, and his heels dug into the small of Valetino’s back, as if trying to spur him on.

Valentino groaned loudly, and now that he was no longer seeking to please Vox, he could chase his own high; something he didn’t hesitate to do. His thrusts were still relentless and coming fast, and each of them still sent his cock slamming against Vox’s good spot, making him choke on his own spit.

“No more,” he panted once his high had waned. “Please, no more!”

“Oh, baby, we’ve barely started. You wouldn’t deny me a good time, now would you? Not when I’ve been so generous to you?”

Vox howled and pointed his toes, throwing his head back when Valentino grunted and continued ramming into him.

“Val, please, I can’t---”

“Shut up unless you wanna call me daddy,” Valentino groaned, and fucked Vox with so much force that the piano finally began whining under the merciless onslaught.

Vox shut up. Clarity started settling over him once more, and now there was no way he was calling Valentino ‘daddy’ again.

“You’re cute when you’re quiet,” Valentino sickered, and Vox noted that he actually sounded out of breath now. He scoffed and rolled his eyes, but even though he had just come for the second time, it appeared he wasn’t done yet.

His cock was still hard and jerking every now and again.

Ah, Hell.

He let Valentino fuck into him, and felt pleasure surge through him with each thrust. Was this guy really going to wring a third orgasm out of him? That was ridiculous! It was insane, even!

Valentino’s thrusts lost their rhythm, and seconds later, Vox felt something warm and sticky fill him. He knew what it was, of course, but he tried to tell himself that if he didn’t put a name on it, then it wouldn’t be as... gross.

Hot, his brain supplied, completely unprompted.

He growled at himself, tensing and tightening when Valentino used the euphoria of his orgasm to slam into Vox even harder. Then he tensed as well, and when he pulled back, it was with a slick popping sound. Vox shuddered, and then hissed when ropes of Valentino’s warm cum mixed with his own on his stomach and chest. His back arched.

Why was that so hot?! And how could he make sure it would happen again?!

“Good boy,” Valentino sighed, and pulled one of Vox’s hands down to his own cock. Vox didn’t need further encouragement, but immediately squeezed and pumped Valentino, making him groan. “See, you’re doing so well,” he crooned, looming over Vox and making him feel like a trapped animal.

It was strangely, and ridiculously, hot.

He locked their lips together once more. The kiss was slow and almost tender.

Maybe, Vox’s brain said, once more delirious with arousal, this won’t be such a bad partnership.

#text #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel valentino #hazbin hotel fic #hazbin fic #hazbin vox #hazbin valentino #vox hazbin hotel #valentino hazbin hotel #staticmoth #vox x valentino #smut #nsft #my post

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defire · 13 days ago

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Ghost of Seattle Chapter 12

Content: injury, manhandling kids, self-harm, religious cult with christian vibes, threats

[almost forgot to post this oops]

In the Cult, the people that had raided the Night Market were filing in slowly, with a few of the rescued Workforce. These people were former Cult members that had run away.

Reverend Humble, the Cult's leader, insisted that the Cult must deal with their own.

Connor snuck away from the main group of fighters right as they came in. She wasn't supposed to be fighting, because she was supposed to be a girl.

But she wasn't exactly a girl. Or exactly a boy. Her parents told her not to talk about it. She was just made different, and it wasn't her fault.

"I can't believe I did that." She wiped blood and tears off her cheek, where they were running down. She'd been jabbed in the eye by another Cultist's stick before he ran down to attack.

"Connor!" She heard her mom's voice. "You're okay! I thought you ran off with the men!"

If she let them find out that she'd done that, Connor would be in huge trouble.

"I was with them in spirit." Connor said. "Praying, and stuff."

"You were praying the whole time?" Her mom said. "You know the Elders were asking for you."

Connor winced, then fled toward the direction of the mess hall. The Elders were asking for her because she was supposed to clean the mess hall tonight with her rotation of kids. And she always took the blame for when it didn't get done.

She needed to get over there as soon as possible to protect the other kids.

Elders were inside. Next to the tables, they were standing around a small group of kids with their hands on their hips, looking big. One of them was dragging a small girl by the arm.

"It's Bloody Connor." A boy whispered when she came in.

They called her that because she cut and didn't clean off the blood.

"I told Marjorie to take a break." Connor said loudly. "I was having a vision."

"God's voice does not distract us from our holy duties!" Sela, an Elder, said reproachfully.

"Don't you want to hear what it was about, though?" Connor said.

"Marjorie." Sela shook the girl. "Did Connor tell you to take a break?"

The girl nodded.

"Then you're free to continue working." Sela said.

Connor looked at Sela, waiting for her to say what horrible thing was going to happen to her.

"Connor,--"

"I saw a ghost." Connor interrupted hastily. "I saw in my vision, Crippler stabbing a guy through the eye with rebar. Then, lo--"

"Connor!" Sela said. "Stop lying!"

"Ask him." Connor said. "If it's a real vision, it'll be true."

"And what does this so-called vision tell you to do?" Sela said.

"I dreamt that the ghost of the sins that Guard hath committed is haunting their territory. And it looked at my face, and attacked me as a servant of the Cult, and that's why my eye is bleeding."

"What about your arm?" Sela said.

Blood dripped down the outside of her forearm onto her clenched knuckles. She’d made a little slit there, to help herself calm down, pull everything in. She shrugged.

"I'm Bloody Connor. It's what I do."

"Well, you need to quit." Sela said disgustedly. "And if I find out you lied to me..."

Connor clenched her jaw and looked away. She didn't need to be told what would happen.

Tag list: @joyjoygorl @cepheusgalaxy

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

Kindle book: Masterpost: Next:

#whump writing #whump #whump book #gang whump #cult whump #defiant whumpee #child protagonist #religious themes #self harm #fun fact i have a lot of cult experience

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lostfracturess · 9 months ago

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helloo!!! just finished all the "symptoms and causes" chapters that are out and i want to say this story has me on a MASSIVE chokehold 😭😭😭😭😭 stumbled upon the recommendation and decided to give it a try, because i already saw the chapters under the tag, though i am not a huge fan of long ongoings with the y/n, but lord it was one of the best decisions here, i wish i read it earlier! I don't know even what to start with, so im sorry for this kinda chaos, i guess the first thing that really got me is the characters and the way you depict them!!! satoru is so fucking good here, you describe him in such a thoughtful and thorough manner it makes me smiling blushing giggling 😫😫😫😫 the characteristics of him, his actions, little details of him handling himself around... it's so subtle yet adds a lot of deep to the character! i like especially when you highlight the intensity of his stare in the various situations, i think it's really canon of him!! overall he has me on my knees 😞😞😞 and y/n??? GOSH THIS WOMAN! i understand satoru completely, she would've me wrapped around her finger as well. i like that she feels....real? like a total normal human being with flaws, she's neither perfect in every aspect nor she tries to be. i ADORE her strength and the way she collects herself in the difficult situations ("i have to be strong for them"), yet she's not kinda of a terminator and indeed is vulnerable. the chess game just had me thinking whether i want to be her or want to be with her (this option is closed but still-), it's just THIS good. pacing is also very nice!!!! i think that everything just perfect the way it is. and the setting??? you did a very good job at describing it, i really felt like i was there in these moments (though to be honest i half read the surgeries because of the terminology 😭😭😭😭😭), it's very good. also the thing i would like to point out is the surroundings of y/n, it's not only just her and satoru communicating, but a variety of other people, i like their friendship with yuta, maki and toge! suguru and satoru are also nice, their bond is strong for sure, I'm really glad they have such people in their lives (we do not talk about sukuna and gojo's parents...). and ALSO THE ANGST??? it's just so fucking good written, their emotions and feelings 😩😩😩😩 literally biting my pillow!!!!! overall, the story is magnificent and looking forward to the next chapter! sending you lots of inspiration!!!!

p.s. looked through your playlist as well, i think it's very nice! might i suggest you to listen to "don't blame me" by taylor swift, cause to my humble opinion it fits them perfectly 😫

thank you SO SO much for this incredibly thoughtful message! honestly, reading this was the best part of my day. it makes me so unbelievably happy that you gave symptoms and causes a chance, even tho you're not into long stories and ended up liking it! 😭

i'm so glad that you're connecting with the characters! i spend a lot of time trying to get into satoru's headspace, like messy, chaotic, but with a surprising amount of hidden vulnerability and a really genuine love. so glad you're catching all those nuances!!

and yes, the STARES! i think this man communicates with his stupidly handsome eyes 99% of the time. it just must be canon.

also so glad you like the reader persona in this story. i wanted to portray someone both strong and flawed, capable of taking charge yet never being immune to their own doubts. i've been nervous that people can't relate or see themselves in the story, so i'm very relieved to hear that! <3

also so happy to hear the chess scene landed well for you, this is one of my favorites!!!

moreover find it kinda funny that you just SKIP the surgery scenes because of the medical terminology, that i spend hours researching for haha. but i get you, it might be a bit much and boring...

thank you again for taking your precious time to write me this sweet message!! can't wait to share more of the story with you! & wishing you nothing but the best! 🥲🫶🫶

and i will definitely add, don't blame me! haven't been listening to taylor swift as much lately, even though i'm going to her concert this summer omg.

#symptoms and causes #inbox

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rosesradio · 9 months ago

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fanfic ask game

i saw this ask game i wasn’t tagged in so let’s do it 🤠 & i’ll tag whoever wants to do it as well

1. how many works do you have on Ao3?

27 :-)

2. what's your total Ao3 word count?

466,409 (oh cool i’ll most likely hit 500k by the end of the year 💪)

3. what fandoms do you write for?

currently pjo & once in a blue moon hsmtmts, but i have written for like 10-12 different fandoms in my life

4. what are your top five fics by kudos?

ceaseless eve 🌙 (a leo, nico, & piper quest + valdangelo)

camp triple pine 🌲 (a lawrusso summer camp au with fwb 👀)

talk to me, deep in the night (& i’d tell you something i never thought i’d admit) 🏕️ (a surprisingly non-smutty first caswen fic in which ricky talks with ej about how he works too hard, written in s3 era)

Cobra Kai/Karate Kid one shots 🥋 (fluff, humor, angst, smut…what it says on the tin 🤠)

he’s only here for one thing, but (so am i) 🔥 (valdangelo college au smut + camboy nico 👀)

(because i can’t tell a lie, i did skip over one or two stranger things fics on this list. i have complex feelings about them & keeping them up due to the controversy, but also abandoning them or deleting them…i’m sentimental, and i procrastinate lol. i’m glad a higher volume of people enjoyed them by nature of it being a more popular fandom, but i also feel like the kudos aren’t as genuine or earned as they are for my longfics in less popular fandoms for that reason. at least To Me. i hope that makes sense 🧍)

5. do you respond to comments?

i try to reply to every comment around the first week of posting something (because by then it’s an “old work” and it’s “weird” to comment on it, but that’s another post 😐). i still haven’t replied to the last of the ceaseless eve comments & i feel terrible, the sentimentality of it all overwhelms me but know i appreciate it 😭 i wish there was like a code word though that people could comment that lets you know if they want you to respond or not, because it’s hard to know if people want an author response or if it’ll scare them off yk

6. Which of your fics has the angstiest ending?

i don’t do a lot of angst, but when i do, i do (meaning i lay it on too melodramatically thick lmao) but i thought i’d give a list of some of my angstiest/darkest fics 🤠

the moonlace & the sunflower 🌻 (in which grover dies protecting a demigod, so the empathy link causes percy to pass away as well)

games long lost 🌳 (in which luke must drink annabeth’s blood for kronos’s reformation, it covers the dark lukabeth of it all & there’s some death)

the smallest casualty ♟️ (in which it’s slowly revealed over the course of a luke & annabeth chess game that the gods lost the war, and percy & friends have been subjected to dark magic experiments to make them compliant to luke’s fantasy)

rewired 🤖 (okay. i usually try to be humble or self deprecating or whatever but this 1400 word fic is an actual fucking masterpiece to me idc. it just came out of me and makes me physically nauseous to this day. showing this to my hypothetical therapist etc etc. oh wait what’s it about lmao—the concept of daniel rewiring his brain & morals to fit into silver’s desires. ft that sick sick silverusso dynamic)

7. Which of your fics has the happiest ending?

i have a variety of fluffy fics, but i’d have to say my happiest most sugar coated ending is—

who said anybody would? (a ej/gina/ricky road trip fic that literally ends with an ot3 picnic scene 😭 it’s just too much 🫶)

8. Do you get hate on fics?

i’ve gotten unwarranted criticism (i like to ask for constructive crit comments at the end if it’s like a longfic) that’s been surprisingly rude…i won’t say which fic but someone got so mad at one of my chapters they left a lengthy mocking crit comment and then stopped reading 😭 but that’s their prerogative, i hope they found something they enjoyed afterwards. other than that, surprisingly considering some of the controversial dark fics i’ve written…no sign of flames, so thanks! 😅

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

i have four different smut fics (hopefully a fifth if i can ever finish it up)…i fear they’re repetitive but also not really, they cover different fandoms and explore different kinks. i’m not really sure what to say about them, hopefully people find them hot ! or whatever !

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

i’m not a fan of crossovers currently, but my longest fic i wrote when i was 15 (it’s 97k i’m beating it someday 😭) was a crossover between sanders sides, voltron, miraculous ladybug, and gravity falls (doesn’t that feel like a kick in the gut lmao—did i mention i was 15? 😅)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i know of 👁️👁️

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

not that i know of 👁️👁️

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

i tried, myself and another author had a shared Google doc & everything…but we both just didn’t commit. i don’t think i’d work well with another writer…i don’t mind bouncing ideas around with a beta reader/editor (like @heavens-vault 🤠) but ultimately i’d prefer to write on my own

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

it changes—it’s currently valdangelo, but the ones I’ve written the most over the years are: prinxiety (😐), lawrusso, caswen, and valdangelo. i’m excited to explore a bunch of other ships as i continue writing as well

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

oh gosh, i mean i hope i don’t have any like longfics in question…i hope i can finish + deliver on Ivory Rain, but i’m sure I’ll manage even if it takes a while. i haven’t really mentioned this a whole lot to “the public” but i have what i call a “scrap fic” i’m working on, with a bunch of like 800 word chapters i just kinda bounce around when i have time. the concept is really exciting but the execution still needs work, so i’m kinda seeing how that’s gonna play out, it might not be posted. i hope it will though !

16. What are your writing strengths?

i think i’m pretty good at characterization, good romantic moments with good buildup, and humor :-)

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

action scenes i hate you so much 😭 why do i insist on writing pjo fics when i can hardly write a fight scene

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

i should do it more, i hate that i don’t, especially considering nico being Italian and leo’s native language being Spanish. but I’ve used & been disappointed by Google translate too many times…perhaps I’ll find another way to translate to include that for more character accuracy

19. First fandom you wrote for?

actually i think percy jackson, i’ve come full circle. the first fic i posted was sanders sides, but i remember when i was probably nine or so i wrote with pencil and paper and stapled a book together with a hand drawn cover 😭 it was about a son of Apollo, a satyr, and a daughter of Demeter on a quest…so really, richard took some creative liberties from my hand written fanfic i think 👀

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

like the ships, it changes—I love all my fics, it’s hard to explain how there’s little fractures of me at different points in my life at any given time in my works. no amount of over-explaining could make anyone understand how i express myself through my character’s emotions and desires and fears and journeys.

at the moment, my favorite fic is CE. it just got completed, myself and others are excited for the sequel. i think all my pjo works in particular are pretty good, and of course i tend to shy away from my older works because my writing…probably wasn’t as good. but that just means I’ve improved, so that’s good.

that’s all the questions, but this was fun ! :-)

#fanfic #ask game #rose’s asks #(of sorts)#pjo #hsmtmts #valdangelo #eh im not gonna tag all tha fandom stuff we’ll be here all day

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yallemagne · 11 months ago

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For the ask game: "save a horse", "ohnho," "My Dear Jack," and "i."

the ask game

hooooo, save a horse. ride a cowboy. This is a Jonathan/Quincey, post-canon, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies fanfic that I have been sitting on for so damn long, and by gosh by golly I have rewritten that fucker like five times. It switches POVs in the middle.

relevant tags: internalized homophobia, smut, pwp, shameless romanticization of Southern US citizens

A giddy nervousness bubbles in my chest when I invite Mr. Morris in. Confessedly, I am relieved to have spoken with Mina prior, to have all my worries about this potential unfaithfulness be defused. Nervousness still lingers in my mind, but I find it isn’t guilt. It is more the fear that I may do or say something with too much familiarity and come across as brash or presuming. Such worries are unfounded, but I can’t help myself. Even after a few years of knowing the man, I feel inclined to call him Mr. Morris or something similarly detached, only to be corrected. “Call me Quincey,” he insists. “Or Morris, at least. Mr. Morris is what stuffy oil barons like to call me.” That comment prompted me to ask him how often he spoke with oil barons. Of course, he has a story to tell. When I fumble while pouring him a glass of wine, Morris chuckles, and it is such a pleasant noise. It would be reminiscent of less than pleasant memories had Morris been anyone other than his delightful self. His laugh is warm and rich, not sharp or mocking. Instead of dread or embarrassment flooding my head, my cheeks tint a dusty rose.

ohnho is... very inspired by my own experience. It is post-canon, but this time, ugh, people have died. It was born from my headcanon that Jonathan's relationship with the surviving Suitors post-canon is complicated at best... I am willing to admit that a great part of the reason I don't see him bonding well with them is a projection of my own issues with socializing. Godalming invites Jonathan on one of the Classic Suitor Camping Trips (nix Quincey), and everything goes wrong.

relevant tags: boys night!!! camping with the boys!!! trauma, dubcon, survivor's guilt

Godalming had suggested it: a camping trip. Or perhaps it was less that he suggested it and more that he merely sent the invitation in the mail. In that invitation, he laid out all the details: location, duration, suggestions of what to pack… And he illustrated just how happy he was that I would be joining him and Seward. Reading that, I couldn’t help but wonder when exactly I agreed to such a thing. But Mina was thrilled. One might have thought she was going on the trip with how excited she was while packing, but she wasn’t invited: just her husband was. This was a man’s trip.

My dear Jack,-- yeah how I named this was clicking on the title and letting it autofill in the first line. Remember An Odd Doctor? This is more of that AU. Though Mrs. Westenra has already hired someone to treat her daughter, Lucy's deteriorating health and grievances with the doctor cause Arthur to request that Jack check-in and possibly intervene.

relevant tags: fraud???, medical malpractice, threats of violence (this makes it sound like Arthur threatens Jack, I swear he doesn't)

My dear Jack, I worry severely for Lucy’s sake. I know you are far from this issue, but I must humbly make a request: I need you to check on her. A while back, she was sick, and I was going to call on you to examine her illness, but before I could, her mother seemed to become newly aware of the issue and hired a doctor herself. Since then, even when my father was better, I was not allowed to visit. But one day, while Mrs. Westenra was out, I came and Lucy looked worse than ever. Her tired agony seemed only a tiny bit lightened by my appearance. When I asked her what in the world was happening, she broke down into sobs. I fear her doctor is an awful tyrant to her.

iojegrjpie I saw your reply on the post and I was like "oh yeah blue? my titles are inspired? what does "i" invoke???" and now I have to answer that question. Funny that it's "i" but it's not even in 1st person.

This takes place post-Orice and deals with Jonathan's continuing struggle with his sexual trauma. I don't know about it... it may be too self-flagellating in tone?

relevant tags: past rape/noncon, hurt/comfort, self-hatred

The words have been stuck in your throat since you first told her what happened. When you were away, too far away for her to save… You have struggled through every overdue confession, digging everything up and bringing it to the surface, dragging the dirt into your shared bed, and she held you all the while, never condemning you for not fighting back or for saying nothing when you were hurting— she always pauses before she can tell you that she wouldn’t know how to speak either. It’s because she knows how much the thought tortures you, and you can’t help but hate yourself whenever you see her bite her tongue. You’re being selfish, not letting her voice her empathy.

#thank you so much!#wip #update #people ask me things #dracula #ask game #bluecatwriter

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caparrucia · 2 years ago

Text

AO3 First Lines Tag Game

Tagged by @garbria!

Rules: Share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written fewer than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway.

Decided to only use main fics, rather than any sidestory collection associated with them:

1. no greater evidence of roses than thorns (FFXV)

Regis gets two assassination attempts per month on average. Or rather, two assassination attempts on his person are planned per month on average. Lyra Argentum leads his Saboteur Corp. So it’s more like Regis reads about two assassination attempts on his person that got horrifically and often murderously derailed per month on average.

2. upon a truth well-known (FFXV)

Later, much later - after a scramble for lunch that stretched out into dinner, though by then the entirety of the village had heard the news and had come in to bring their gifts, good wishes and nosy questions - Cor finds himself following Nyx out the window of his room and onto the roof. They sneak on the sturdy beams holding the sprawling, interconnected labyrinth of roofs all the way across the village - technically, it’s all one house, technically, and it strikes Cor as the kind of technicality that Regis would be delighted by - to then make their escape onto the mismatched, broken marble pillars that lead up towards the massive temple that dominates the entire island.

3. in his professional opinion (FFXV)

The boy came recommended by Regis.

This was worse, in Titus’ humble opinion, than no recommendation at all. Regis only recommended capable people he saw as full of potential…

Or Cor.

4. Mutual Understanding (Horizon: Forbidden West)

“And… yeah,” Erend says, awkwardly, staring at whatever expression had settled on Talanah’s face and wouldn’t budge an inch. “That’s about it.”

“I see,” Talanah says, slow and steady and not at all reassuring, given the way Erend flinches in a way eerily reminiscent of his reaction to his sister’s opinions on his latest stupidity, back before… well.

Everything.

5. the nature of the beast (FFXV)

Nyx hadn't exactly volunteered to go to the mainland.

None of them had, really. The mainland was a nebulous, foreign concept none of them really thought about that often. And why would they? Galahd was Lucian in name only, and they liked it that way. The mainland brought idiots every couple years, with grand plans and ideas to “modernize the islands” and “bring them into a new era," and it was funny watching them set out to try, only to be inevitably worn down by the storms.

6. from the dark, will come a light (Pokemon)

It’s a windy, autumn afternoon, standing in line inside a nondescript coffee shop in Goldenrod City, when the greatest field agent in the entirety of the International Police realizes he needs to die.

It’s a very quiet realization, that, nothing dramatic or overblown, and certainly not something that manages to make a dent in his expression: he remains standing where he is, patiently waiting for his turn, apathetic stare fixated on the display trays full of elaborate, sweet confections to contrast with the subtle flavors of the roast this coffee shop favors.

7. i've battled hard with the face in the mirror (Pokemon)

When his mum saw him standing in the doorway, sheepish grin and all, she’d cried.

It was the good kind of cry, though, so Leon didn’t feel too bad for crying a little himself, when he got pulled into a tight, tight hug. There was something fundamentally comforting about his mum, this vast, encompassing warmth that reminded Leon of being small and scared, and then instantly reassured, the moment she was there to hold him and promise it would be alright.

It would be alright.

8. Of Kings, Knights and Knaves (FFXV)

The Emperor has come to Insomnia.

Nyx watches the news broadcast, curled up in a chair in his apartment, trying to desensitize himself to it. It burns deep in his bones, and he must learn to master it, so that he’ll be able to carry out the job he’s been assigned to perform. He must stand guard in yet another of the fancy parties preluding the farce of a peace treaty, even though he’s got Crowe’s unseeing stare burned into the back of his eyes.

Must. It’s always about must, never could or would or want.

Must.

9. Chronicles of the Storm King's Reign (FFXV)

It’s not, Ardyn knows, a matter of morals. It’s not even a matter of loyalty.

He’s neither moral nor loyal and he knows it. If nothing else, two thousand years of nothing but his own emptiness for company has been enough to let him come to grips with who and what he is. He’s petty and bitter and not really nice. He reckons he never was all that nice, deep down, before the Scourge got hold of him and he was reduced to play his part in his brother’s farce of a fate. He did as he was told and tried his best to make it be enough, because it was expected of him. He didn’t care, back then, about the lives he saved. All those lives were just variations on a theme, the same boring story told over and over again; and they’d been so weak and cowed by everything, that they clamored for him, for letting them endure their miserable, empty existences a little longer.

10. for to end yet again (Pokemon/Witcher)

“Ah,” Raihan said, right before the shaelmaar hit him head on, “fuck.”

It wasn’t his proudest moment by far. Every bone on the left side of his body broke on impact and he felt that, somewhere under the murk of adrenaline that gave him enough time to force his limbs loose and try to roll with the impact. He bounced off the rock floor like a rag doll, and then barely managed to cast quen, hoping against all hope that it would be enough to hold off the follow up, even though he knew damn well it wouldn’t.

A moment passed.

Then another.

Tagging: @darkpuck @pegunicent @misstrips @kheradihr @whostarlockeda03 @phoenix-is-the-hottest-thing @thedancingwalrus-blog @wordsandrobots @awlwren @jonphaedrus and anyone else who wants to try! Show off your stuff!

#shut up rie #tag meme #my writing #sometimes i even finish shit and put it up on ao3 #can you believe that?

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vibratingskull · 5 months ago

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Hello. I enjoy your writing very much , the many "diffrent " Thrawn you have are amazingly writing. May I please ask for a ThrawnxF!reader

Were reader is a redhead, and Thrawn very much loves it about her always touching her hair, telling her how much he loves it and how unique it is even among humans, hoping their child will inherent it. With some fluff/smut

I love my different Thrawns, they are my oxygen. I hope you like this chapter anon ❤️

Thrawn x F!reader

Tags : Reader has red hair, fluff, smut, breeding kink, P in V, dumbification, creampie

You pass your comb through your locks, carefully unknoting your flaming hair.

“Let me do it for you.” Thrawn appears behind you with a soft smile.

You smile back to him and hand him the comb, sitting comfortably in front of your hairdresser. Thrawn takes your mane delicately in his hands to pass it behind your shoulders and leave it flowing in your back. He takes a portion of it and starts gently combing your strands, with infinite delicateness.

You observe him through the mirror, how focused he looks. It is no secret to you that your flamboyant hair absolutely fascinates him. When you first met, you felt his insisting gaze on you despite being on the other side of the room. At first, you took it as the usual male behavior of ostensibly ogling women like objects and didn’t entertain him by giving him attention and was fully ready to send him off when he approached you.

You expected the usual “compliments” of how your skin must be soft to the touch or how pretty your plump lips would be wrapped around something other than a fork, the usual...

“You have magnificent hair, ma’am. I never saw such color before.” He simply said.

You looked at him without a word, waiting to see how he would segway his way to a more crude “praise” but he remained fixated on your hair with sparkling eyes.

“Oh...” You finally responded after none came as you expected, “Thank you I... was born with it.”

“It is your natural color? Fascinating... I saw several depictions of such hair in the arts of humans but this is the first time I have had a chance to observe it in real life, I must say the tones are even more impressive in person.” He seized his chin as he kept detailing your hair avidly.

You could not help a little chuckle while biting your lips into silence. What was his deal? Usually, this is women complimenting your hair, but he looks like a child discovering sugar candy for the first time.

“Does your species do not have red hair too ?” You asked back, amused.

“No. Our shades and hair colors are unfortunately not as diverse as humans. Until now I was convinced red hair was purely an artistic vision and you are the first individual I met with that impressive color.”

This time you overtly chuckled at his enthusiasm. He looked like he discovered a mythical creature he dreamed about all his life. You spent the rest of the party discussing together on a balcony with your alcohol glasses as only other company. He was polite and courteous, gentlemanly even. Never a bad word came soiling his lips and his hungry eyes were solely fixated on your locks, utterly fascinated.

He remained very set back in his enthusiasm, his face stern and tone aloof but his eyes were shining so bright you didn’t need the light of the stars to see around yourself.

To return the compliment you told him that you never saw a species with such beautiful eyes and he bowed his head, humbly accepting the praise.

“Do you model a lot?” he asked.

“Modeling? What for?” You tilted your head with a little grin.

“For photographers and painters.” He responded like his interrogations where obvious.

“Never.”

His eyes rounded up slightly in surprise before he took back control.

“No one ever approached you for modeling with such hair?” He asked genuinely puzzled.

“No.” You laughed, more and more endeared to his confusion, “Red hair is not sufficient to be a model.”

“I would paint it all day long if I was an artist.” He revealed.

You gauged him up and down with a smirk.

“You are a weird man, Vice-Admiral.”

He tilted his head.

“I am simply praising what I find beautiful.”

To tease him you casually took out your hair pins to reveal to him your true hair length. If he was not Thrawn you were sure he would be drooling on himself right now with how entranced he appeared.

“May I... touch?” He asked.

“Sure!” You giggled, more and more amused.

He delicately took a lock in his hand and squeezed it between his fingers.

“They are very soft and smooth, it feels like silk.”

“Thank you, I take care of my hair.” You nodded satisfied with your work.

“I almost hoped it would be warm to the touch...” He continued lowly, almost to himself.

“It is simply hair.”

“Of course. I understand the artists’ fascination for red hair now. They truly are... Mesmerizing.”

“What are you thinking about with such a dreamy expression?” Thrawn’s calls you back to reality.

You blink, in your shared suite on the Chimaera, with your husband combing your hair for the night.

“Our first meeting.” You smile, satisfied, “And how hypnotized you were by my red hair.”

“I still am today.” He sighs satisfied, “This color suits you so well, it enhances your skin and eye color perfectly, the chemical colors are poor imitations of true redheads, they lack all the fire and flamboyance of that magnificent shade.” He preaches, finishing to comb your mane.

“Aren’t you a bit obsessive?” You laugh.

“I am a simple servant to art and beauty.”

You shake your head with a chuckle;

While you remove your makeup, Thrawn applies a hair mask on your locks, nourishing your hair.

He absolutely adores taking care of your hair. He wants to do your shampoos himself and kneels in the bathroom to clean your hair while you relax in a bubble bath, appreciating the deep head massage. He buys a ton of hair products, masks, butter, and oils to strengthen and make it shine. He takes half an hour each morning to tress your hair, adorning the usual strict military bun with discreet but sophisticated braids, little beads, and pearls of colors thread into your locks with his Chiss flair. He told you that long hair was culturally significant for Chiss and he learned plenty of braids and tresses in his youth and loves to play with our hair now, honoring his own culture through you.

Thrawn massages the mask on your hair with great application before adding drops of oil on your root and finish it all up with some perfume.

You love being pampered like that, you hum a tune with your eyes closed, deeply relaxed as he leans forward to dive his nose in your hair and inhales deep with a satisfied sigh.

“I adore your hair.” He whispers like it isn’t obvious. “They are a real crown for your head.”

He kisses the hair in his hands before putting them to the side of your neck to kiss your nape. You hum, pleased by the sensation of his lips on your skin.

“I hope our children will inherit your hair color.”

You chuckle.

“But your blue-black hair is also beautiful, it suits your blue skin so well and compliment your eyes.”

“I will argue red hair will compliment them both better.” He keeps kissing your neck.

He slowly goes down, pulling the brace of your nightgown off your shoulder to kiss the naked skin. You cannot help a shudder at the touch of his delicate lips on your sensitive spot, his hands caressing your arms fully. He leaves pecks here and there with a pleased sigh before wrapping his arms around your bust to squeeze you tight, his nose buried in the crook of your neck.

“You are ravishing in this little apparel...” He groans, “Will you join me in bed?”

You give him a side glance with an amused smile.

“Will I?” You tease.

“Please, Ch’acah. You bring me to my knees.” He looks into your eyes brazenly, desire lighting up his eyes like it did the day of your meeting.

You chuckle before kissing his cheek. You take his chin to rotate his face towards you and gain access to his lips.

It is soft and delicate but so full of promises.

His hand leaves your arm to gently grip your hair, tilting your head farther, deepening the kiss. You open your mouth to let him enter, and he moans satisfied as your tongues meet and dance together. You wrap your own arms around his shoulders, pulling him towards you.

Thrawn breaks the kiss, leaving you panting for more and kisses the tip of your nose with a cheery gaze.

“I love witnessing desire awakening in your eyes, Ch’acah. I love how they become dark and heavy, it makes my blood boil in anticipation.” He reveals lowly like a secret.

You peck the corner of his lips, digging your nails in his pristine white uniform.

“Take me to bed.” You whisper in a breath.

He makes your stool spin and seizes your legs to lift you up bridal style. You chuckle as he carries you so easily with his powerful muscles, he delicately lays you down your double bed, nuzzling his nose with your cheek.

“Your scent is driving me crazy lately.” He rasps between kisses all over your face, “This is a good time to try again.”

You unbutton his jacket with trembling hands, feeling excitation rising in your veins. You use a period tracker to keep a tab on your periods and most fertile days, but Thrawn doesn’t need that. With his Chiss nose, he can pick up your pheromones in one huff and know where you are in your cycle. You stopped checking your tracker to know if he was right by now, he got it every time.

You have longed for a baby of yours since you got together. He made it very clear that he would not get you pregnant before you felt ready to be a mom, but it was clear in his eyes that he wanted a baby now.

But he kept true to his words, never pressuring you, taking a contraceptive of his own, until you told him you felt ready for a little one too. All heavens broke loose and he who was so reserved and with a low sex drive was suddenly all over you, touching you constantly, keeping you in bed for long hours, caressing every nook and cranny of your flesh, making passionate and sweet love to you.

As members of two different species, procreation wasn’t impossible per se but clearly more improbable than same species couple. You both kept track of your most fertile days, took fertility boosters, and modified your diets and habits to maximize your chances.

But even now it has proven unsuccessful.

It doesn’t stop you from trying.

Thrawn gently pulls on your nightgown braces to reveal your shoulders and breast to him, he gently nips and sucks at your collarbone, his purring starting to resonate in your ears.

You absolutely love that sound. It is so soothing and exotic.

So... Erotic.

His hands leave the fabric of your gown to grab your breast, kneading your bosoms well and good in his large hands. He licks his way down your collarbone to your boobs and takes on in his greedy mouth to lick and suck the nipple, letting his drool roll on your smooth skin as you wave your body under his, teasing his groin region with your hips.

You gasp and mewl under his magical tongue as he laps avidly at your nipple while rolling and grabbing the other’s flesh with a handful, making your nip roll and pinching it between his expert fingers.

He finally kisses your bosom to give the other the same treatment, the same loving attention. His purring is now loud and unmistakable. He groans and moans his own pleasure loudly, making sultry and obscene sounds unbecoming of a Grand Admiral of the Empire.

But in the intimacy of your suite, he doesn’t care. This is the secret place where he can let go of the heavy mask of aloofness and detachment to reveal his more sensitive and vulnerable visage. A visage that you welcome and adore, proving to him that he can be truly himself with you and unmask and stim off when the pressure is too great, even for him.

He finally kisses your two boobs and raises back on his knees to get rid of his white jacket and black tank top, you follow the movement into a sitting position to caress his abs and pecs. You cover his stomach with kisses and little licks with the dart of your tongue, wrapping your arms around his waist.

His hands come caressing your hair, passing his fingers through your fiery locks to press your face against his muscular stomach with a deeply satisfied sigh, his head thrown backward in bliss. You kiss your way lower toward the hem of his pants with a big smile, you open his white trousers and pull them on his legs to reveal his boxers.

The bulge is consequent, and despite the breathable and stretchy fabric it feels very constrictive for him, it appears really tight for his length. You leave a big kiss on the bulge, chuckling, feeling him twitch under your lips and his muscles contract under your hands. You take the hem of the boxer down to free his erection from its jail. His cock immediately rises, standing proud before your face, lengthy and girthy, making you drool terribly.

You take his leaking shaft in your hand and gently jerk him off before taking it in your mouth. The pre-cum is salty, titillating your tastebuds pleasantly. Thrawn tenses significantly under your touch with a hiss, his abs contracting and rolling under his blue skin. You circle his crown with your tongue and a hum as you hear Thrawn gasp, his grip on your hair tightening. You start moving back and forth, welcoming as much of him as you can in your mouth, which is a feat considering his measurements. You breathe through your nose deeply, minding your gag reflex as you push him far back in your mouth working your tongue on his length and taking care to not press him between your teeth.

His little huffs and choked gasps are so erotic, you feel your pussy waking up with warm waves, your inner muscles pleasantly contracting in excitement at each of his pants, soiling your panties.

You moan loudly for his ears and he starts a gentle back and forth movement with his hips as you drool all over his cock, with a solid grip on his waist. He is very mindful of your comfort and takes care to not push your limits and not cause pain to your jaw. He exhales deeply, satisfied by the sensations you give him.

“You are so good with your mouth, Ch’acah.” He rasps, trying to control the tremors of his voice under your care. “Keep going please...”

You smile with his shaft in your mouth, humming approvingly. It took you time to be able to take so much of him in your mouth and you have all the right to be smug of your technics now. You feel him restraining his desire to fuck your mouth as his grip on your hair tightens again, pulling on your locks.

“Ch’etecerci!” He curses, his pelvic movements getting more and more erratic.

His hips jerk and he cums in your mouth with a long moan. You feel the long ribbons of seed on your tongue, painting your mouth in white.

“Do not swallow yet, Ch’acah.” Thrawn pants, sweat trickling down his glorious abs and temples.

You look up to him with your mouth full as he lowers himself, pushing you back on the mattress before kissing you languorously with a deeply pleased hum. Your tongues dance and hug each other as he tastes himself on your lips. He waves his hips against yours, humping his still-erect cock against your panties. He cups your cheek as he deepens the kiss even more, sharing saliva and semen in an obscene embrace. He parts from you with brightly shining eyes, devouring you with his hungry gaze, panting.

“My turn.” He groans.

He kisses the tip of your nose and lowers himself to place himself between your legs, pushing your nightgown out of his way to reveal your panties. He grips the fabric and pulls them down your legs, you raise your hips in the air to help him.

He separates your legs wide open with his large hands to expose your pussy to his hungry red eyes. He lowly growls at that sight and you see him licking his lips.

"Would you look at that, the obsession of my darkest thoughts...”

And without any more ceremonies, he dives his head between your thighs and takes a big, long lick at your fold with rumbles in his chest. You gasp as he licks your pussy avidly, his long fingers gripping the delicate flesh of your thighs hard.

“You are already quite wet, Ch’acah.” He notes playfully but with a dark and heavy gaze, “But you can do better than that!”

He kisses, licks, laves, and laps at your pussylips, parting them with two fingers, drinking and savoring your dripping essence with loud moans and satisfied pants. You mewl and yelp in desperation at the pleasure he gives you so generously, you dig your nails in the fabric of the sheets, your body shaken by tremors.

He loves to eat your pussy out and never misses an opportunity to dive between your legs and remind you how good at it he is. He could go on for hours if you would let him do as it pleased him...

“Ah! Th-Thrawn...” You gasp, rolling hips against his expert lips.

“Yes ch’eo Ch’acah?” He hums, his mouth pressed agaisnt your swollen pussylips.

Sometimes you worry he would suffocate himself against your cunny.

“Ah...! Don’t stop! Please... Keep going.” You beg, out of your mind.

“Of course...”

He kisses your fold loudly and focuses on your clit, titillating it with the dart of his warm tongue. Your legs shake violently at that new stimuli and you feel all of your blood leaving your limbs to flow to your southern mouth, puffing up your lips and inner muscles like a soft pillow.

He flicks your pearl rapidly with his tongue, sucks the bud like candy, and makes it roll between his blue lips. You feel your cunny convulse deliciously as you struggle to catch your breath under such touches. Goosebumps flourish all over your delicate skin as he eats you out like a starving man. You feel your dripping essence and his drool rolling on your thighs and his jaw.

His moans and grunts are so loud and lewd, obsessively resonating in your suite, ringing in your ears like delicious music, exciting you more and more. As you tremble on the mattress he humps his impressive length on the bed, rolling his hips and waving his entire body in a sultry dance, desperate for some friction.

As your pleasure grows and spreads in your nerve endings your hips try to get away from the mouth that tortures you so easily by reflex, but Thrawn holds them down firmly, growling a warning. You will not escape him and fighting your orgasm is useless, he will have you come undone on his tongue, whether you want it or not.

Your thighs are shaking so much that you inadvertently squeeze his face firmly between them as the spikes of pleasure send electroshocks in your leg muscles, making them tremble terribly. Blocked between the softness of your thighs and the delicacy of your dripping cunt Thrawn starts purring loudly.

You try to reopen your legs to let him breathe but they are spasming brutally under each wave of raw bliss he gives you. You cannot even speak anymore, just letting out helpless choked gasps and strangled exhales.

And suddenly the knot snaps and a fireball explodes in your leaking cunt. You are electrified to the core and freeze entirely in a second under such pressure. You desperately try to breathe but all your muscles are contracted. Your heart pumps furiously, softening your cunt and puffing up your pulsating clit in his mouth. Your toes curl and white fireworks explode behind your closed eyelids and you squirt in his mouth uncontrollably. His purr deepens as he receives your slick on his tongue, deeply pleased by his work.

He laps at your swollen bud and leaking cunt one last time with a purred animalistic growl, a satisfied grin, and stands back up to hover over your lying figure. Drops of saliva and slick beads on his chin, rolling on his deep blue skin, catching the red reflections of his burning rubies. He wipes his jaw with his fingers and sucks them clean with an exaggerated satiated hum, looking straight into your eyes without any shame.

“A divine taste, as always Ch’acah.” He comments, letting go of his fingers with a resonding pop.

Your chest rises up and down rapidly, your heart in a frenzy, and sweat rolling on your heated skin. He lowers himself to nudge his nose with yours and you peck his tip with an exhaled laugh.

“I love you, Ch’acah.” He whispers so low, his hand tenderly cupping your cheek, and with the softest gaze you ever see, “Please, do not forget it...”

You take his face between your two hands to caress his cheekbones softly, your eyes deeply bored into his. He often worries you will forget his love and leave him behind, choosing a younger lover to satisfy you. His fear of abandonment is deeply intertwined in the memories of his sister’s disappearance, the powerless feeling due to the death of his brother, the ungratefulness the Ascendancy displayed at his hardest efforts to keep it safe, and his personal perception as a weapon and a tool.

He fears so deeply that once you used him he will be tossed aside and be forgotten. He factually knows it won’t happen, that you are not heartless to abandon him like that, but it is so deeply ingrained in him that he cannot shake it off, especially after he felt comfortable enough with you to open himself up.

“I know, Ch’acah.” You respond in the same tone, “Do not forget that I love you just the same. I am the happiest I have ever been in my entire life at your side.” You force his face down to languorously kiss him, robbing him of his air, “I love you so, so much! Like I never loved before.”

He presses you tighter against his huge body, threatening to crush you under his weight but you don’t want to be anywhere else! He lets out a breath, your foreheads against the other.

“Will you give me a baby?” He asks.

“Of course, Ch’acah.” You brightly smile to him, “I will give you as many as you desire.”

“Redheads like you?”

This time you burst out laughing. He really stands by it, doesn’t he?

He playfully pecks your neck now that the atmosphere is lighter and positions himself between your legs, his leaking cock twitching in anticipation. He takes it in his hand and spreads his pre-cum on all the length as preparation.

“I know you will.” He finally notes and pushes his length inside your wet pussy.”They will all be perfect just like you.”

As always he stretches you out so much, forcing your mouth in a perfect ‘O’ as your fluffy muscles extend all around his girthy shaft in an attempt to welcome him whole inside.

You know you are going to be so sore after this night. He always leaves you like that. But he takes it as an opportunity to massage your lower tummy or eat you out again to help your bruised muscles to relax.

He seizes your hips to reposition himself better, pushing deeper and deeper, burying himself to the hilt in the warm and welcoming embrace of your inner flesh. He sighs longly when he is fully in, letting you a moment to adjust.

“You squeeze me so much, Ch’acah.” He lets out between his greeted teeth as his abdominals contract repeatedly under the pleasure he feels just being inside.

You cannot resist and tense your cunny several time around his shaft, making him gasp and tremble lightly.

“Do not toy with me, Ch’acah.” He warns breathless.

You look at him insolently with a pleased smile.

“I am simply inviting you to start moving.” You innocently respond.

He rolls his hips sultrily, earning a moan from you, much to his satisfaction. And he starts thrusting his hips with a rapid pace.

The thrusts are deep and languorous, and the rhythm is quick but it is sweet and loving sex, as always with him.

You roll your hips with his, meeting his tempo, undulating your body under his as he ruts into you, his nose buried in your neck, lazily licking and pecking your skin, his large hands gripping your side hard. You circle his waist with your legs and his shoulders with your arm to hug him tight in a big bear hug, imprisoning him in your embrace, defending him to ever stop his thrusts in your greedy pussy.

The back and forth is a tad painful considering his size and length, forcing your cunt to stretch at its maximum to welcome him fully, but it is a diffuse pain that melts and disappears in the ocean of pleasure his hips give you. His preparation helps tremendously too, your slick acting like a potent lubricant with his pre-cum. He waves his hips expertly, knowing perfectly what will make you cry of pleasure and cream around his cock.

He hits all the sweet spots easily, making you shudder and tremble and moan uncontrollably. You contract and tense your pussy to tease and play with him, earning choked gasps and low growled purrs as he ruts into you with abandon.

“Will you give me a baby girl?” He demands breathily, “A cute little one to cradle.”

He asks you this question each time you try for a baby. You know he will be terribly happy with a son but his eyes sparkle so much when he speaks about having a baby girl, already fantasizing about giving her her first painting lessons and Shah-tezh sessions, preparing her for the world, to make her a conqueror and protector of everything she deems worthy.

So many men pride themself in only having sons, he instead desires a little girl for himself. He holds women in such high regard and respect, that fathering a girl is one of the highest accomplishments he can hope to achieve in his life.

“A sweet baby girl...” He pecks your face all over, cheeks, nose, temples, forehead, chin, and jaw, “She will be the most intelligent and perfect being in existence. The entire universe will be better for it...”

You feel him getting unhinged talking about your future baby like that. They do not even exist yet but you feel his heart ready to burst out of love for them already. His thrusts deepen and accelerate and you feel his cock throbbing inside your vagina. He is eager to come inside you but not before you come first.

“Yes, Thrawn. I will give you a daughter.” You promise with a broad smile under all those sweet kisses, “Several if you want.”

“Several... Would you do it for me, Ch’acah? Bless me with several children?” He huffs, full of hope, “Carrying many of my babies?”

“Of course love.” You kiss the tip of his nose back, “For you I will. I will give you a large family.”

He slows down his movement to cup your cheeks and look deep into your human eyes. His disheveled hair frame his gorgeous face, sweat dripping off his temples while his red eyes shine and burn of untold desires. He considers you in silence for a minute, like he has trouble registering that you are here with him. He then lowers himself to kiss you languorously, entering your mouth to play and dance with your tongue with a deep pure resonating through his chest to his throat.

He suddenly resumes his hard and rapid thrusts into your leaking pussy, making you moan in surprise and pleasure, making you bite his tongue in confusion.

That doesn’t stop him, quite the contrary.

You can hear a roar rising in his chest, muffled by your sultry kiss as he pounds savagely into you, the sound of wet flesh hitting wet flesh resonating obsessively in your bedroom, making your head light and fuzzy.

He parts from you, growling like a predator, and stands on his knees, forcing your hips up in the air. He holds them firmly in his large hands as he obscenely ruts into you. This new position allows you to admire his abs rolling under his thick Chiss skin gleaming with sweat. You gulp before his athletic body, sculpted by the Maker Themself. He pants, throwing all his energy into your love-making.

Useless to say that if Thrawn ends up tired after sex, you end up absolutely exhausted and destroyed. Your stamina is no match for his and he always gives you so much each time...

“My sweet wife... Letting me breed her as I please...” He says between devastating plunges, rendering your brain mushy with all the bliss, “I knew I chose you well. That you will rise up to the challenge.”

He licks his fingers lewdly, wetting them well before starting to caress your clit. He circles it, caresses it, titillates it, teases it, flicks it sending chocks of raw pleasures in your nerve endings. You’re shaken at each little wave, inadvertently squeezing his cock as your muscles contract, making him grin. He accelerates his ministrations on your pearl, locking into your eyes, pressing it down, and torturously grazing it, giving it love and attention until you are a complete shacking mess under his touch. You feel your legs trembling dangerously and ready to give up but Thrawn holds you tight, impaling you mercilessly on his erection.

“I love how your little pussy squeezes my cock when I enter you and how it strangles it entirely when you get close.” He lets you know with dark satisfaction, looking down at you from all his height.

He keeps going on your clit, making you drool on yourself, the combination of his thrusts and caress being too much on your poor body.

“It craves to be bred so badly, I can only oblige. Do you like that idea, Ch’acah? Me breeding you thoroughly until you are full and round with our child?” He darkly purrs.

You can only nod in desperation. You lost all your words and the remnant of your sanity under his care, leaving you brainless and craving for your orgasm.

“Cockdrunk my sweet?” He playfully mocks, “This expression of bliss on your face is pure art, Ch’acah, I want to see it every day...” He promises, accentuating his rut to toy with your poor body, “Let me breed you, love. I will fuck multiple babies into you, as many as you want, I will give them all to you.”

You are no more than a fleshlight for him to abuse and bully his cock into, he flicks and pinches your clit between his fingers making you cream even more.

“Blast! You should see yourself right now! Fucked stupid with your red hair as a crown all around your beautiful expression. I cannot wait to see you pregnant, all round and heavy with my baby.” He rasps, “You were gorgeous before but you will break so many hearts with your swollen, pregnant belly. But you are mine! Mine alone! For me to breed and love all day long. I will show you off everywhere for everyone to see and despair that you are not theirs!”

He punctuates each word with a devastating pounding motion and caress of your clit until your pussy convulses all around his big cock as you cum in a scream of his name. Your entire body contract violently under the shockwaves of pure pleasure, your toes curling and your eyes rolling inside your head, your pussy pulsating hard and kneading his length, squirting on his cock.

He finishes with powerful thrusts, spurting hot ribbons of white seed in your spasming sex, milking him for all his worth. He throws his head backward as his orgasm washes over him with a long moan that will haunt your most depraved fantasies from now on.

He lowers his hips to lay on you once again as your pussy keeps hugging him tight as your own orgasm slowly dissipates, allowing you to descend for the high. You gasp and pant, catching your breath as his body weighs down on yours, his hands coming to cup your cheek and caressing your red hair lovingly.

The only thing you can hear right now is Thrawn’s pleased purr. So clear and unmisitkable. He nudges your noses and lazily kisses your nose with a small smile.

Your hands circle his shoulders to press him tighter aginst your sweaty and exhausted body.

“Ch'ah ch'acah vah.” He whispers, his thumb caressing your cheekbone, “Thank you...”

“For what?” you ask tiredly, feeling your sprinting heart slowly slowing down.

“For being with me, for indulging me.” Thrawn pecks the tip of your nose, “You are the only one I trust.”

You hum in response, hugging him to show him your love.

“Do you think we did it?” You ask after a moment of silence, spent cradling each other in a pleasant warm embrace.

“Maybe... We can do it again, to maximize our chances.”

#thrawn #thrawn x reader #thrawn x you #thrawn x f!reader #grand admiral thrawn #mitth'raw'nuruodo #thrawn smut #fanfic #vibratingskull

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