#I’m not giving up despite how late it is

[withwritersblock]

More Hearts Than Mine-A Secret With Their Families Meeting

~More Hearts Than Mine by Ingrid Andress~

Author's Note: I wanted drama... here's some drama... maybe some more angst in the future for this fic series lol Summary: Y/N's period is late and her family and Luke's family meet for the first time Warnings: stress along the idea of pregnancy Word Count: 4,658 Luke Hughes x fm!reader

Tomorrow was the semi-annual Hughes Bowl. It was another one where Jack was unable to play, but was a good sport about everything. Luke’s parents were coming into town to watch them play against each other. Like every year. 

Except this year was extra important to Luke. Not because they were fighting to stay in a playoff spot but because his parents were meeting Y/N’s parents for lunch and then the game. 

Luke was nervous. His family and Y/N’s family were very opposite people. Luke was tense, afraid that something would go wrong. His family had difficulty admitting it but they have issues with being out of touch sometimes. While Y/N’s family have lived paycheck to paycheck for Y/N’s entire life. 

He paced back and forth, dropping his gaze towards his watch every few seconds as his family was supposed to be at the apartment first. 

Jack was picking up Quinn from the airport and was planning on meeting everyone at the restaurant. Y/N’s family were driving up and staying in a hotel for the night, that Luke paid for despite her father’s countless protests. 

This was Luke’s idea, an idea that he is now severely regretting as he doesn’t want to give her father any more reason not to like him. Even though she swears that her dad will never not like him. Luke still wants to say in his good graces. He doesn’t need his family messing with that.

“Uhm–Luke,” he heard her call out from their shared bathroom. Luke completely snapped out of his trance as he followed after her call.

He skipped through the bedroom before walking into their ensuite bathroom. “What’s wrong, baby?” he asked softly as he glanced down onto the bathroom counter before looking back towards her. 

“What’s today’s date?” she asked as she was fiddling with the promise ring he gave her on their two year anniversary. He nodded slowly as his lips parted and clamped shut again.

“The 24th,” he mumbled. She nodded slowly and sarcastically waiting for him to grasp onto the question. “Our families are meeting today?” he elaborated in hopes that is the answer she was hoping for.

“What happens on the 20th of every fucking month, Luke?” she asked, throwing her arms to the side frustratingly.

His mouth fell open as his eyes widened. His entire body ran cold. “You haven’t–?” he trailed off as she shook her head. “Four days can’t be that bad, that’s–that’s normal right?” he expressed as he reached towards her, nervously taking a hold of her waist. Luke needed to hold her, she was like a security blanket to him. Feeling her skin calmed him in every way possible. 

“I’ve been like clock work since I was thirteen years old, Luke. Something’s not right,” she muttered while avoiding his gaze. “This cannot happen right now,” she said as she rested her hands onto his arms. Slowly, she glided her thumb along his skin; feeling his bicep tense under her delicate touch.

“Well, it’s only four days. It’s–We can’t freak out yet,” he tried to be reassuring but the stutter in his voice was hard to ignore. Slowly, she wrapped her arms around the center of him. She rested her head against his chest as he pulled her tighter to his chest. 

“What if I’m already freaking out? This is not how I wanted this to happen,” she mumbled against his chest, a small sob leaving her throat. Luke dragged his hand up and down her back soothingly. 

“We don’t know anything yet, okay? I know that’s not reassuring at all but we’ll figure it out? We’ll figure it out no matter what this means, okay?” he mumbled as he raised his hand up and ran his fingers through her hair slowly. She simply hummed against his chest as she sniffled another sob.

She took a deep breath, taking in the perfect smell of his cologne that made her heart race. Except, her heart was racing for other reasons. She was on the verge of finishing her degree and Luke’s role on the Devils was getting more and more important. 

They were barely adults, hell, some people may still see them as kids. She couldn’t have a kid right now. She thought that her and Luke were careful, very careful. At least she thought so.

“Hey,” he mumbled as he took a hold of her cheek, pulling her head away from his chest. He needed to look her in the eyes, maybe so she would hear him. Delicately, he glided his thumb across her cheek. He wiped a tear off of her cheek. “We’ll figure it out, okay?” he whispered while looking deeply into her eyes.

She nodded slowly. He nodded with her as the corner of his lips curled upward. A nervous laugh left her lips as he leaned towards her and pressed his lips against her forehead for a few seconds.

The doorbell echoed throughout their apartment and he slowly pulled back. “I’ll go grab them,” he said quietly as he rested both hands onto her cheeks, wiping the leftover tears on her cheek.

“Stall them for me,” she let out barely above a whisper. He smiled softly before he pressed his lips against her forehead once more.

“Of course, my love,” he slipped out of the bathroom, carefully closing the door. He pressed his back against it for a second as he took a deep breath. He bit his bottom lip as he continued to walk out of the bedroom. He rubbed his eyes as he walked through the living room. He walked towards the door and pulled it open. His parents were waiting outside the door. 

“Hi,” he forced a wide smile on his lips, hoping to hide the conversation that he just had with Y/N. They smiled widely as they made their way into the apartment. Ellen instantly wrapped her arms around Luke. He returned the hug as he looked towards his dad. His dad smiled softly towards him, letting his mom have the moment longer. 

Ellen pulled back, stepping aside to allow her husband to have a moment with their youngest son. Jim stepped over and gave Luke a quick hug before he stepped back. 

“Where’s my future daughter-in-law?” Ellen asked teasingly. Luke rested his hands onto his hips as he pressed his lips together. He took in a shaky breath. He couldn’t form words. There was a long beat before he answered. “Is she alright?” his mom let out suddenly.

“Oh! Oh yeah. She’s fine. Just we uh–we got into an argument so we’re just–” he trailed off as he took a deep breath. It was probably the worst lie or either the best cover for their current situation. It would explain any tension or awkward silences between them. Now he has to tell his beautiful girlfriend, whom he’s never argued with, the lie he just told.

“Was it bad?” her mom asked, “Are you okay?” she asked urgently. 

Luke took a deep breath as he nodded, “Just a lot of stress in the air, I’m just giving her some space,” Luke explained as he walked backwards. He pulled his phone from his pocket. “Do you guys know when Quinn and Jack are going to the restaurant?”

“They’re leaving after Y/N’s family gets here,” Jim said while looking around the apartment. Almost as if he was checking for evidence of an argument. 

Luke was pretending to text Quinn about their plans but in reality he was texting Y/N their new cover story.

Luke: Hey lover, I may have told my parents that we got into an argument… So cover story?

Y/N: sure but I don’t even know how to pretend to have an argument with you

Luke: just claim I said something stupid, seems realistic enough

He heard her stifle a laugh from behind him. He spun his head around to see her making her way out of the hallway. Their eyes connected and a smirk formed on her lips as she rolled her eyes playfully. 

“Hi Ellen, Jim. How are you guys?” she asked as she awkwardly crossed her arms over her chest. Luke rounded the corner towards the kitchen, needing water and to make it seem like they were not talking. But all he wanted was to wrap his arms around her, hold her tightly against his chest.

The impending situation waiting to be decided is still circling his mind. Their families did not need to be aware of what was happening. That would be a huge mistake.

“We’re doing good, how are you my dear?” the question was stated loudly, perhaps hinting to her son that he was the cause of the argument. 

Ellen and Jim worshipped Y/N and that is exactly how he wanted his girlfriend to be seen by his parents. He was okay with his parents thinking that he was in the wrong. 

He opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. He took a long sip of the water before he began walking back into the living room. He could overhear his mom and Y/N engage in a conversation. 

Luke walked beside his dad, bringing the water back towards his lips. “Are you two okay?” his dad asked quietly. Luke nodded as he added the lid to the water. 

“We’re fine, just not good timing on our part,” Luke joked and Y/N overheard. She gave him a look before she replied to what his mom was saying.

“When does her family get here?” Jim asked quietly. 

“Few minutes or so.” Luke mumbled as he kept his gaze on Y/N. He watched how her jaw remained tightly clenched until she was saying something. Her breathing was shallow, she was trying not to cry. 

“I thought the whole in-laws' meetings happened at weddings,” Jim whispered jokingly. Luke rolled his eyes playfully. 

“Yeah, well, it’ll be good for you guys to interact,” Luke mumbled nervously, “Get to know each other a little bit,”

Jim simply nodded along as almost on queue, the doorbell rang. Y/N's entire body straightened as she smiled politely towards Ellen before she squeezed her way towards the door. Luke guided his parents back away from the door. Luke muttered a small joke to his parents, practically telling them to behave.

Y/N took a deep breath as she pulled the door open. It didn’t take much as her younger brother barged his way into the apartment with a wide smile on his lips. “I made the program!” he cheered excitedly, his eyes were only on his older sister. She stared back towards him with confusion. 

“You made the what?” she replied back.

“You got on the US program team?” Luke chimed from the back of the living room, wearing the same wide smile EJ was wearing. EJ nodded encouragingly. “That’s incredible, dude!” Luke charged towards him, giving him a huge hug. 

“I don’t know what that is but I’m assuming–”

“Your brother is one of four goalies that made the USA National Team Development Program,” her mother bragged as she excitedly tapped his shoulders. 

Ellen and Jim smiled widely. “Oh wow! That’s amazing!” Ellen prompted, knowing this exact motherly feeling on multiple different levels. Without hesitation she made her way across the small space to give Y/N’s mother a huge embrace.

This gesture made the introductions between the families much easier. Y/N’s mom and Ellen instantly started chatting while Jim and her father were already sitting on the couch talking to one another. EJ was sitting between his father and Jim, the three of them talking about the Development Program.

Jazmine and Luke were talking together near the front door. “I mean not that I’m nervous to find a new guy–Is she okay?” Jazmine stopped mid sentence once she noticed Y/N in the kitchen.

She was alone in the kitchen. It was overwhelming. All of it. The fact that her little brother was moving to the midwest for an elite hockey program was hard to handle. Also the fact that she may be pregnant and cannot talk to anyone about it. She leaned forward and gripped the counter, her head was hanging low. She was squeezing the ends of the counter, her shoulders rising and falling at a rapid rate. 

“I’ll go check on her,” Luke offered as he slid past Jazmine and made his way towards the kitchen. He stepped into the small, barely secretive area. 

He walked directly beside her, he gently rested his hand onto the center of her back. “Goregous,” he whispered. She straightened her frame and leaned away from the counter. She faced away from him, mainly away from their families potential wandering gazes. 

“Honey,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around her waist. She shook her head as she stepped away from him.

“I don’t know how to pretend that this is all fine,” she whispered as Luke’s hands remained in the air. “I’m trying not to freak out but–”

“We don’t know anything yet,” he tried to reassure her.

She spun quickly on her heel, looking up towards him. She furrowed her eyebrows harshly, “That’s the problem, Luke! We don’t know anything, our life could be very different and we have no idea,” she was yelling at him yet she was barely audible.

Luke took a hold of her waist, spinning her around to face him. He reached towards her, taking a soft hold of her cheeks. He glided his thumbs across the apples of her cheeks slowly. 

“We’ll be okay if our life together changes in an instance tonight or if it doesn’t. What we know right now, is that our families are getting along great. Your brother is on track to get drafted to the league. Your sister is finally moving on from that asshole. And you and I are going to be okay. We are going to be okay,” he whispered towards her as he continued to look deeply into her eyes.

She couldn’t form any words as she simply nodded. “Okay?” he asked softly, a small smile on his lips.

“Okay,” she whispered as she slipped closer to him. He released the old of her cheeks as he wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly to his chest. Slowly, he ran his hand through her hair as he swayed their bodies back and forth for a few seconds.

Ellen nudged Y/N’s mother and whispered, “Looks like they solved their argument,” Ellen offered.

“Were they in a spat?” she asked quietly. 

“Luke said he was giving her space because they got into an argument right before we got here,” Ellen said while shaking her head. Y/N’s mother’s eyes widened as she looked back towards the kitchen. The pair were still embraced as Luke was whispering into Y/N’s ear. 

“I cannot picture those two raising each other’s voices at one another.” she said to Ellen as she admired the way Luke slowly pulled back and the smile on her daughter’s face. It was small, maybe not fully genuine but it was a real smile towards Luke. 

“He’s so in love with your daughter. I’ve never seen one of my boys like these before.” she offered as the pair exited the kitchen together, emerging in a conversation with Jazmine right away.

Ellen turned her gaze and looked into Y/N’s mother’s eyes, “When my husband and I pictured someone for our daughter, Luke is better than anything we could’ve imagined,” she explained softly as she watched Y/N rest her head against Luke’s arm. 

Ellen dropped her gaze towards the floor with a small grin on her lips, “I must say as a mother to only sons, that is the greatest thing I could hear about one of them. I’ve always said Luke is the first to get married,” she offered teasingly. 

“Let’s hope not soon,” Y/N’s mother said in a giggle. Ellen let out a small gasp as her phone started vibrating in her pocket. Pulling it out, she saw that Quinn was calling her.

“Hi Quinny,” Ellen said quietly. 

“I thought we were meeting you guys at the restaurant? Jack and I are sitting alone at a giant table. We look like freaks,” Quinn said half-jokingly.

“Alright, we are leaving their place now. You’ve got a table for ten right?” Ellen questioned as the entire group started making their way out of the house.

“Yes, Jack and I look ridiculous by the way,” he continued.

Luke wrapped his arm around Y/N’s waist as he led the charge of their families out of the apartment. “Food should help,” He teasingly poked her side. 

“Luke Hughes,” she scolded through a small fit of laughter. She took slow steps away from Luke to walk side by side with her mother and Ellen. Luke did the same with her dad and his dad.

Once they reached the restaurant, it was evident where they were sitting as Quinn and Jack did look incredibly ridicous sitting alone. Luke took a small hold of EJ and Jazmine’s arms and guided them over to where his brothers were sitting.

“Boys, this is EJ and Jazmine, Y/N’s younger siblings. EJ, Jaz, this is Jack and Quinn,” Luke said as he introduced the siblings. They shook each other’s hands as they sat beside one another. Luke sat down beside Quinn while Y/N sat down beside Jazmine as their parents were already sitting beside one another and chatting.

“What’s up guys?” Quinn asked as he brought his glass of water to his lips. EJ and Jazmine smiled shyly towards one another as they tried engaging in conversation. EJ was trying not to freak out. He was a huge fan of Quinn, it was a lot at once. Jazmine simply finds the whole thing awkward. 

“Oh, Jack, EJ got on the developmental team,” Luke said as he pointed towards EJ. EJ’s eyes widened as he dropped his gaze shyly, he tried to hide the grin on his lips. Jack’s eyes widened as an instant grin formed to his lips.

“Aw, that’s fucking awesome kid–here, let me give you my number if you have any questions about the whole process–the team, anything!” Jack said excitedly as he quickly handed his phone over to EJ. “Serious offer man,” Jack said happily as EJ started adding his phone number into the phone.

Y/N and Luke’s eyes met again while Y/N’s plastered a small smile on her lips as they forced their gazes back down to the menu that was rested in front of them. EJ, Jack, and Quinn were all engaged in a conversation about hockey; the program while Luke and Y/N sat silently listening along. 

Jazmine leaned into Y/N whispering, “Are you okay? You’ve been too quiet.”

Y/N turned her head to the side, meeting her little sister’s gaze before looking back towards Luke. He was focused on the menu in front of him. A small scowl on his lips as he was probably upset with the limited game day options he had to eat. 

“Just a lot going on in my mind,” Y/N mumbled before she decided on her soup and sandwich combination before closing her menu. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked her. Y/N shook her head slowly before looking back towards Luke who was still staring down at the menu. “Are you sure?”

“I’ll be alright, Jaz,” Y/N said quietly. Her voice grasped Luke’s attention. His gaze instantly landed on Y/N as he shut the menu and rested it onto the table. Luke and Y/N’s eyes met and he gave her a small reassuring smile.

“Of course, you have Lukey,” she muttered teasingly. Y/N nudged Jazmine but she was right. 

~~~

The third period was about to start for the game and it was still tied. The parents were sitting in a row of the suite watching the game. Y/N was standing in the back, watching the game on the TV screen. EJ and Jazmine were enjoying the snacks as they wandered towards where the parents were to watch the game again.

Y/N was stirring her drink with her straw as she forced her gaze up towards the TV screen every few seconds before she looked back down towards the mocktail in front of her. 

“Hey,” Jack whispered as he walked up towards her, adjusting the sling on his arm. Y/N hummed as she kept her gaze low. He furrowed his eyebrows. “My mom said you and Luke got into an argument today, are you doing alright?”

Y/N scoffed as she raised her head to meet his gaze, “I’m fine and we didn’t actually get into an argument at all. Just some stuff is going on and I–we cannot–we agreed to not talk about it until tonight,” she expressed as she looked into Jack’s eyes.

Jack stared suspiciously, “I’m not a gossip like everyone else in our families, if you want to talk about it with me. I’ll keep my mouth shut,” Jack expressed quietly as he leaned towards her. He looked up towards the screen to see the game going.

She took a hesitant breath before glancing towards their families loudly chatting at the edge of the suite that led to the perfect view of the game. 

“I’m late, Jack,” she whispered as she looked into his eyes. His eyes widened as he leaned towards her. 

“Holy shit, do you really think–?” he asked barely above a whisper. 

“I don’t know, it may be too early to even tell–I don’t know,” she said while shaking her head slightly. “We’re barely twenty-one, this isn’t–this is not how this shouldn’t–”

“What does my brother think?” he asked quietly as he rested a reassuring hand onto her shoulder. 

“He says that we’ll be okay either way. We’ll figure it out whatever that means,” she said while rolling her eyes. “He’s trying to make me feel better but nothing that he says is helping which isn’t his fault,” 

Jack took another step towards her, he leaned closer, “How careful were you–”

She let out a sudden giggle, “Are you asking how often your brother wears–”

“Uh–withdrawn, nothing further,” he let out jokingly as he leaned back. They both giggled as he tapped his hand against the table.

“We’re very careful, probably too careful for being together for two years. Well maybe not–it turns out,”

“Well if it’s any constallation, Luke would be an incredible father,” his voice was barely above a whisper. 

Y/N smiled softly as she tilted her head to the side to look towards the TV screen. “I know,” she whispered softly, “I was hoping there would be a ring and a wedding before this was even an idea,” she offered with a dry laugh. 

“Well, Lukey is lucky to have a girl like you, you know that right? I give you two a lot of shit but if he doesn’t marry you then that kid is not going to marry anyone,” Jack said as he awkwardly leaned towards her and gave her a hug with the best of his abilities with his arm in a sling.

“Thank you Jack,” she mumbled while she accepted the hug. “Luke’s freaking out but I think he’s letting me freak out more since he’s–”

“He’s trying to be strong for you. Yeah I can tell,” Jack offered while laughing. “His eyes darted towards you like every single second to see if you were okay. Everyone can tell something isn’t right with you guys. You guys barely spoke at dinner, that’s weird. Our moms are over there talking about what you two could be arguing about,” 

“Yeah? What are their theories?” she asked jokingly. 

“Uhm, my mother seems to believe that Luke said something stupid because us ‘Hughes boys’ apparently have no filters. Whatever that means,” Jack said sarcastically. “Your mother believes you took something too personally and it spiraled from there,”

“Sounds about right,” she muttered while rolling her eyes playfully.

“You’ll be alright,” Jack muttered as he shifted his gaze towards the TV just as Timo scored to take the lead. “I know that’s right!” he cheered. 

“Thanks for listening, Jack, seriously,” she offered. He smiled towards her with a dry laugh leaving his lips.

“Yeah, that’s what future brother-in-laws are for?” he asked jokingly. She rolled her eyes playfully.

~~~

Their families were back in their hotels and Quinn was on a plane back to Vancouver. Luke and Y/N were alone in their apartment sitting on the bathroom floor with the three pregnancy tests resting on the bathroom counter. Y/N couldn’t stand going in public to buy the tests, especially right after a Devils game.

She’s been stopped in public before for dating Luke after a game. She did not need to be seen in public buying a pregnancy test. She did not need to see the potential media surrounding it. 

Their backs were pressed against the walls, for the first thirty seconds they remained silent. “It’s probably too early for it to be accurate,” she let out.

“Well, we’ve got two paths right? So path one is that it’s negative and life goes back to normal. Maybe double wrap it from now on–”

“Luke!” she scolded while smacking her hand against his chest, a small giggle left her lips. He let out a small laugh.

“Okay, okay but then we have path two right. The test is positive and we have to change course right? Okay, you’re pregnant and we are going to be parents. We’ll get a bigger place and we’ll be able to have a room for the nursery. You’re about to finish school and look into possibly a job and then we’ll have a little boy or girl–it could be great,” 

“I mean we’re young but we’ll make it work, right?” he offered as he shifted his gaze towards her. She didn’t respond, she simply nodded. “I mean your family is only a few hours away, Jack is only a couple blocks away–not that Jack would be a fantastic babysitter–well maybe he would be, I don’t know. I’m sure my parents would be willing to fly in and help whenever we would need it–”

“Luke, please stop talking–your babbling is making me more nervous,” she said with an awkward laugh. 

“Sorry, gorgeous,” he said while awkwardly laughing. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her towards his side. “It’ll be alright,” he whispered as he kissed the top of her head. 

“I talked to Jack about it, I didn’t mean to it sorta spilled out in the suite,” she explained.

Luke nodded slowly, “That explains the long awkward hug he gave me after the game. I thought he was making fun of my shootout attempt,” 

Before she could reply, the timer they had went off. She lifted her head up and their eyes connected. She nodded allowing him to reach up and take a hold of the three tests. His hand covered the tiny screen that says if she was pregnant. He leaned back against the wall holding them in his hand. 

“Are you ready?” he asked quietly.

All she could muster up was a nod. He moved his hand, holding all three of the tests in his hand flatly. All three of them clearly stated Not Pregnant, Luke dropped them on the floor and pulled her tightly to his chest.

“Guess we’re double wrapping it–”

“Luke Hughes! Take something serious for once,” she said while laughing. 

“We’ll be okay, my love,” he mumbled as he pressed his lips against the side of her head. She smiled to herself as she ran her fingers through his curls. 

“Eventually we’ll think about it, right?” she whispered. He hummed as he ran his hand down her back. 

[superhoeva]

need jack to come home from work and have his way with my sleepy/sleeping self😪😪😪 PEEL THEM SHORTS OFF BABYYYYY

tw(s): somno, penetrative sex, female pronouns/anatomy used, language, dirty talk, jack loving up all over you. 18+/mdni.

it’s a tuesday... then a wednesday.

one that ends with an quiet walk to his place and a soft grin when jack finally returns home to discover you tucked into one of his pillows.

he finds himself standing, staring in the entryway from the bathroom to the bedroom with his hair slightly damp from his quick shower. leaning into the cane he occasionally uses for times like this–late early morning and prosthetic off–jack wipes his scratchy scuff with his other hand, and sighs.

the shift is still weighing upon his shoulders, though the vision that’s you peacefully snoozing gives him some space to breathe. 

jack watches you for a touch, inhaling and exhaling with a quick look away because fuck. you’re beautiful and it makes his heart tick with a dizzying flutter. dragging his gaze back to you, he makes his way to the bed, leaving the cane and rolling into bed with a quiet grunt.

when you don’t move, dead to the world, abbot grins to himself. he stares at you for a few more seconds before touching a hand to your back and sliding it across the smooth of your t-shirt. you still don’t twitch an inch, and remain unconscious as he slithers his rub down your back and to the hip of your thin boy shorts.

humming to himself, the man eyes the curve of your ass and doesn’t give it a second thought before peeling the fabric from your skin and down your legs. jack pulls the garment from you with a lick to his lips.

“there she is,” he mumbles quietly, transfixed with how your slit glistens despite the dark of the room. his cock blooms with a swelling of blood to his south when he slicks a finger across the wet of your center, groaning a little at the way you taste as he drags it along his tongue. “you must be dreamin’ about me…”

jack breathes deeply, shuffling up against you at the same time he springs his cock free from his boxers. after a few more tugs, it’s stiff and shining with the pre-cum his head has already cried out. teeth tugging his bottom lip into his mouth, jack huffs through his nose with hooded eyes.

he doesn’t know if it’s the low slicks of his hand across his wetting cock or the heat of him behind you, but something tugs you awake. not by much and your eyes are halfway shut, but you still call out his name with a voice thick with sleep. “...jack?”

“i’m here, baby,” jack eases out, stroking the thick of his aching cock before slipping it against your wet folds. “budge up for me, yeah? s’been a long day. wanna to feel you around me, clear my head…”

helping you raise your leg just barely, jack huffs out a tired groan at how easily you allow him inside you. your warmth wraps around every part of him as he pushes balls deep, drawing you back so you're pressed snuggly against him. another sigh dances from jack’s lips, and you release a heavy-eyed mewl at the lazy thrusts he begins to filling you with.

jack works the both of you together with a unhurried sureness, hips hitting leisurely against yours as he fucks you with a sweet grip of your side.

somewhere between sleep and wake, you push back against him so he pierces you deep enough to force a sound from both of you. jack’s is a throaty croak that repeats itself when he rolls the both of you all the way onto your sides

keeping his speed the same, jack drives into you as deep as you'll let him. your soft mewls melt into louder cries of his name as he wraps you in a tight grip that you come to encircle in your own embrace.

“missed you,” jack groans into you, soft pants escaping him to warm near your ear. “been thinking about this all night–filling you up. letting me take you while you lay here. stuffing you full.”

his palm moves to press against your stomach and he somehow holds you even tighter. skin sliding across yours as the two of you become fused over multiple spheres of existence, jack mouths at the skin between your neck and shoulder.

breath enters and exits his lungs in quick jerks, mixing easy with the wet sounds of his cock gliding against your walls and skin-slapping beat of his body rocking into yours. you lay in the clutches of his tender hold, drowsy with sleep and muscles loose while you let him take you. fucking you into a sweet bliss with a dance he executes through determined jolts of his waist and floods of honey-slurred words.

“couldn’t wait to get home to you. nice and tight and droolin’ onto me like you are now,” he lilts out quietly over the messy thwaps sounding from between your close bodies. “fuckin’ made for me, weren’t you? pussy feels so good, wrapped around me like a damn glove. fuck.”

jack’s hips stall just barely, punching a noisy wail from his lips when he sinks completely into your hole. the sudden move plunges his cock across the ridges inside you and presses the head of his member right into the mark that makes stars appear in the dark of your clenched eyes.

your peak has you squirming against the warm of jack, who latches onto you and holds you down on his cock as you come with a tired whine.

“tha’s right, gorgeous. yeeeah, you got it.” he coos before letting out a rough breath and tense croak. his cock spills ropes of cum against your walls, and he keeps you plugged as he continues to pump his balls empty inside you. his thrusts have stopped but his member still twitches every now and again inside you, slick but snug. his body relaxes into the mattress, eyes peeking over to find yours already shut. he puckers his lips to line your shoulder with pecks, and a soft sound hums from the back of his throat. “so pretty when you come all sleepy for me like that. you okay, baby?”

an easy nod just barely bobs your head as the urge to sleep tugs you with little hassle. jack makes sure not to move too much when he reaches down to pull the sheets atop you both, and the last thing you feel is a chaste kiss at the shell of your ear, jack softening inside you as he drifts along to sleep… right behind you.

© 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

[couch-potato28]

Imagine being a Blue Lock manager! ⚽️

VERSION XVI.

(a/n: YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST cause guess what? We hit a 100 followers omg 😭🎉 you don’t know how grateful I am, thank you so much for reading these I swear I’m gonna improve!! tyyy x 1000 love u 🫶! back to Hiori idk what took over me during my time writing this but I guess it fits the sentimental vibe so yeah lol ty for ur support again!)

Warning-none

wc: 1k

also: @ttheggrimrreaper @irethepotato @ohagiyoo ❤️

——————

FROM THE PROLOGUE:

“Congratulations L/N Y/N! Based on your results, you've earned your place in Blue Lock as the manager of player number…

…16, Hiori Yo.”

The more you read his name under the little icon, the more familiar it sounded.

While trying to recall a memory of anyone with the same surname, someone whispered behind you to their friend.

“Aren’t his parents famous? My mom used to talk about them.”

Bingo! Yes, that was it. His parents, famous athletes of Japan, their names printed in the newspaper your dad once read out loud during breakfast before moving on to the weather. Damn, does that mean you got an already talented prodigy?

Leaving the room with a satisfied smirk, you patted yourself on the shoulder, feeling smug about your luck.

Imagine being Hiori Yo’s manager.

——————

Hiori Yo who notices you trip and hit your arm while walking down the stairs before quickly recovering as you glance around, hoping no one saw your little incident. He can’t help but smile at your clumsiness across the field, watching you take a seat on a bench while pulling out some papers from a folder. He’s doing his warm-up exercises, running the usual laps, while wondering why didn’t you approach your player before the match, but figures you wanted to observe him first—so he carries on, silently reminding himself not to get distracted just because you’re pretty. You probably weren’t even his manager to begin with.

Your eyes stayed fixed on the cyan haired—despite his solid build and smooth moves, there was a certain softness in his features that made the boy much more captivating compared to his teammates. The quiet presence on the sidelines, making assists that turned into goals—ones that wouldn’t have happened without him.

As the match comes to an end, you try to get his attention by waving your hand before he notices you and nods.

“Hi! I saw ya—uh, waving to me right? I’m Hiori Yo nice to meet ya.” he smiles, giving you a warm handshake.

“Yes, I’m L/N Y/N, your new manager. Nice to meet you too!” gosh that smile was gonna be the death of him.

——————

•Hiori whose calm personality makes the everyday chaos seem just a bit more bearable than usual. He’s careful with his words, always being the first one to greet you in the morning before accompanying you to the cafeteria.

•Good listener especially when you’re rambling about how busy they made both of your schedules to be, barely giving any time to get to know each other better. He agrees while assuring you that friendly talks can always be squeezed in between breaks.

•Hiori is a well-built gentleman, doing what he’s instructed without a complaint, and gives all his attention to you during your suggestions for the games. He’ll speak up when needed, and respectfully shares his opinions.

•You don’t say anything but you notice it—the way the spark in his eyes seems to fade on the field, unlike when he spoke to you the other day about his love for gaming.

•Trains hard, early mornings and late nights are what he’s always been accustomed to. Not wanting to be left behind or get lazy, he often takes the extra effort to be better, making you happy to get such a hardworking person.

•On some days though—he’ll secretly stay up all night, playing video games without your knowing before the next day you catch him yawning a lot more than usual, rolling your eyes at his explanation.

•“Wasn’t worth pissing ya off but it felt nice to beat someone online after a hard day, y’know?”

•Months of working together means you get to know the boy better than ever, conversations often shared besides work and training plans. Yet the one topic he never talks about is his parents.

•Hiori who took a long time before he finally opened up, only letting you know basic details about him, carefully avoiding the topic of his childhood. You figured he wasn’t on good terms with his parents when you told him about yours—his smile barely visible, voice more quiet than usual.

•It happened on a rather tiring day—everyone, including Hiori was easily annoyed and by the time analysis came around, he broke down after a lost practice match, telling you everything that was weighing on his heart as he sobbed for comfort, spending the whole night in your arms.

•“So you don’t even like soccer?” you asked, his head on your shoulder as a small chuckle left his mouth.

•“No, not really anymore.”

•The things said that day were kept a secret—a special moment that made you one of his closest friends, forming an unbreakable bond between the two of you.

——————

AFTER THE U20 MATCH…

•Hiori changes his views on soccer, his playstyle evolving into something new, something better, and the spark in his eyes seemed to return for the first time after a while.

•God of fan service. He’s so chronically online it’s crazy. Knows all the memes, slangs, ships and phrases going around the internet that even his fans cringe whenever he uses them in interviews.

•Loves to raise his eyebrows while looking at a camera and once mouthed the word “kaisagi” when Kaiser and Isagi were arguing, the two boy barely keeping any distance, making it look like something else.

•While his screen time skyrockets, his sleep schedule reduces to a mere 5 hours a night, making you groan, and seriously consider confiscating his phone at the sight of dark circles under his eyes every morning.

•Often plays with fans, quickly gaining followers on each of his social media accounts.

•Hiori who’s been a big fan of the yogurt drink, Yakult, since his starter days, causing you to get him a collab with the brand, in hopes of getting free drinks for his training.

•You also make sure to try, and help with his mental health—offering a sheep plushie after a Bastard München win, telling him it helps to cope with loneliness and all that, making him laugh at your serious face. Says he doesn’t need it but can’t sleep without it since :)

•To be fair, you always knew you had a bright future ahead when they paired you with Hiori and when he tells you he’s looking forward to working with you even after the top 23 announcement?

•You happily agree, sharing the same sentiment—a quiet sense of reassurance washing over both of you.

[bloodied-blossom]

You'd do anything for that antichrist, wouldn't cha?

1.5k Words; Ronin x Reader (1/2)

Killer Chat! Fanfic

Ronin is driving you insane, if he wanted proof so badly? You'd give it to him. The devil wants your corruption. And thats just what you give him.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

'Heh'

‘Will you Carve an Aorta out for me? Cut it Filthy and Breathing’

`Do It like the Romantics do`

`i haven’t Forgotten your Need to Prove yourself to me`

`<user> [16:51]`

`I don’t think I need to prove myself to you.`

`< goreboy > [16:51]`

`who’s the one Deciding your fate?`

`i Thought so`

`have fun with your Murder`

`don’t forget to Send Pics`

`in the meantime`

`i’ll be marking the Devil’s name Uptown`

Ronin . God why won��t he get off your back. Oh, right, it’s because he knows. You know he knows. But there isn’t much you could do about it right now. Your thoughts are swirling with ideas.. Should you prove yourself? Is it worth the blood on your hands just to get him to leave you be? He’s corrupting you, and he’s pretty damn good at it. Reading his words again gives you a grotesque idea. ‘Carve an Aorta out for me?’ The thoughts only spiral as you try to push them out. You try to convince yourself that a human life is not worth your sick romantic fantasies.. But you can’t deny the truth any longer. You need this server's trust. You need proof.

If you want the devil’s heart? You’ll have to play the devil’s game. And by playing his game? You’re falling right into his hands.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

You had scoped out possible victims. There was a list of shitty people you knew the world would be better off without. This really was a terrible idea. You had on shoes that were three sizes too big, a large coat, a mask, long gloves and a couple of weapons to get the job done. Ronin was driving you mad and yet there was so little you could do about it.

You came into this server for inspiration, and here you are on the brink of murdering someone. It was too late to stop now anyways. You had a victim, you had time, and you had your equipment. You set off in the dead of night, knowing most if not all people, including your victim, would be asleep.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Fuck you’ve done it- You killed the guy. He lay there motionless, the crowbar you used lying beside him. You knew that it was over with and that you should get your photos and leave. But once again, Ronin’s words rung out through your head. ‘will you Carve an Aorta out for me?’ God why had that one sentence stuck? He was going to be the death of you.

You knew you had to do it. Maybe now he’d shut up, maybe now he’d take more of a liking to you. Maybe now he’ll see what he’s done to you, how bad his corruption has affected you. It’s ridiculous really, he’ll only enjoy seeing you break.

You left a mark on the victim's body. Your.. brand. If you will. A missing heart and a mark. How creative. You held the heart in your hand and pulled your mask down. This needed to be deleted as soon as it was sent to the server, you knew that, but that was a problem for later. You snapped a photo of you holding the heart, a twisted smile on your face.

The devil lives to corrupt and shows mercy to none who play with his fire.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

You couldn’t send it. It made you sick looking at it when you got home.. Plus it would be too early. This wasn’t some fun game anymore, some stupid role you could play to get your inspiration. You were now a certified murderer.. And despite how disgusted the dead bodies made you feel? There was a thrilling rush to it. God your morality was being tainted slowly but surely. The only way to recover the sanity you lost is to send the photos and move on. Pretend it never happened…

But you made it this far. Why stop now?

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

`< goreboy > [18:28]`

`oh, why not make it reality?`

`why don’t you Kill Someone for me @\user`

`i’m still Waiting`

`here i’ll even Let you Choose`

`that’s my Round Two`

`i Dare you`

You stared at your screen at a loss for words. You already have. You’ve done what he’s acting so desperate for.. But could you even tell them? It’s frustrating. He’s driving you even madder as time goes on. You stand from your desk, you know how to get the frustration out. Ever since that night, you have been more and more into finding ruthless people you could make victims. More and more proof to pile on. You saw your murder case on the news the morning after that night. People weren’t scared of you.. You were growing this want. The want to be feared.

You stare at the crowbar you used that night, the outfit being neatly folded right beside it. You could do it again. Give into the devil’s demands. Rack up all the proof you need, with all your reasons attached. That would be one hell of a fucking blow..

You’d prove yourself to the devil , and the devil will accept it graciously.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

You did it again. You idiot. You’re falling for the bait, all the corruption. It doesn’t matter, what you’ve done is over with. You can’t go back. You stared at yet another lifeless body. Something inside of you told you this should stop, but something else felt good about this all. It was so gratifying knowing you were becoming just what he wanted you to be. You marked the body and tore out the heart, taking yet another photo from another angle to ensure the receiver knows it’s a new, fresh kill.

With your blood soaked gloves, you wrote your killer name on the wall. You wanted your chosen name to strike hearts into people. You wanted there to be news articles of you.. But that meant more blood. And you were more than happy to oblige.

Dancing with the devil is no sane person's hobby, but to you? It was your favorite.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

`< goreboy > [15:38]`

`hey ‘user’`

`how about i show you the Art of Murdering with a crowbar`

`i’ll Do it`

`as long as you Be my Victim`

Fine. This little game has gone on long enough. One more kill to prove yourself. One more victim to photograph and send to the devil on your shoulder. One more life to take before you can retire from hurting people. This is the ending you want, though you know won’t happen. You’ve grown addicted. You’ve stalked your friends to see how they do it, you take in advice from multiple sources. You’ve landed yourself so much information from this server it tempts you.

You want to rid the world of disgusting, horrible people. But you also want to be the devil’s little helper. You’ve done more than your fair share of roleplaying and it’s about time that role became a true reality. News outlets are becoming more antsy, you hear idle chatter of this new serial killer, law enforcements seem to be picking up some slack to keep people calm.. You’re doing well.

You already planned a list of people you were to kill if it came down to being something you wanted to continue doing. You know exactly where you’re headed tonight. You got ready as quickly as possible, your heart was racing. This became exciting to you. All of this was exciting to you. You couldn’t wait for Ronin’s reaction. It was going to be priceless.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

It was done. You were smiling like a maniac. You felt.. A sick sense of joy out of this. You took multiple photos this time, one with the heart, one close to the lifeless body, one smearing blood on the wall. You were… treating it like a photoshoot. It was so.. Concerningly fun. You couldn’t wait any longer, you couldn’t wait till you got home. You wrote your serial killer name in blood and stood next to it, snapping one last photo before saving both the previous photos and the newer ones to your hidden album.

You were excited, making sure you left nothing behind and fleeing from the house. It took a bit to get home undetected, but you managed. Your mind was blank, nothing but the last hour replaying in your mind as you washed up your items, clothes and yourself. You hooked your phone up to your laptop and opened up the server. Your heart was racing as you selected each photo.. Leaving out all the ones with the hearts in frame. You hovered over the send button.. After you did this? There was no going back. You stared at the sidebar with everyone’s accounts.. And saw Ronin’s . That was the only motivation you needed to click send.

You switched channels, watching as the little exclamation point showed up, signaling you had a notification from the channel. That could be checked later. You opened you and Ronin’s private messages, sending him only the photos with the carved out hearts. You didn’t wait for a response to the photos before you began typing.

`<user> [01:33]`

`I did as you asked, I carved these all out.`

`Did I make the devil proud?`

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

[moraxine]

hello i saw u were begging for more expedition 33 requests so i am here to provide...i just hope it's not too much ;;

so, verso my beloved...i want him to deal with us/reader hiding an injury, pretending everything is fine, and even when he notices you're injured and trying to patch you up you still pretend it's fine. maybe you flirt with him a little and he's like not having it LOL

"a spark of jealousy" was great btw! loved it 💜💜

Patched Up Pride [Verso Dessendre]

pairing: verso x reader

words: 1.5k

i won’t say i’m obsessed because that would be an understatement

You marched near the back of the group, your boots crunching on loose gravel, cloak pulled tight to hide the tremor in your step. The rest of your comrades were a determined bunch, their faces focused as they pushed deeper into the continent.

And you were one of them, a fierce fighter with a stubborn streak, but lately, you’d caught the eye of Verso, the immortal who’d joined your group to guide you through the perils.

He’d taken a particular interest in you, always hovering nearby during fights, making sure that you were always warm, fed, and content with the funny stories he told you during your late-night talks.

You didn’t mind the attention; if anything, it stirred something warm in your chest, a feeling that, even though you hadn’t had time to name, it gently embraced your heart and made reality more bearable.

However, slowing down the expedition was your biggest concern. Though you wouldn’t mind if it were for your team, you didn’t wish to be a weight to them yourself. Even one or two days was too much time to waste. You remembered your colleagues who had almost made it, only to be separated with the ultimate victory in the very last moment.

No, this wouldn’t happen with you.

We always keep moving forward.

Which was why you hadn’t told anyone about the injury. It had happened earlier that day, during a brutal skirmish with a pack of Nevrons.

You’d taken one down, but not before its claw raked across your thigh, leaving a deep, bloody gash. The pain was sharp, radiating with every step, but you’d gritted your teeth, torn a strip from your undershirt, and wrapped it tightly around your leg.

You’d waved off Lune’s concern with a forced grin—“Just a scratch!”—and kept moving, determined to prove you could keep up.

But Verso wasn’t blind. He’d been watching you all day, his eyes narrowing every time you lagged behind or winced when you thought no one was looking.

Now, as the group paused to rest in a small alcove off the path, you leaned against a boulder, trying to catch your breath without drawing attention.

The expeditioners were busy setting up a quick camp—Lune and Maelle discussing the safest route, Sciel scouting the perimeter—but Verso’s focus was entirely on you.

“You’re limping,” he stated, his voice low and steady as he approached. His grey eyes locked onto yours, sharp and unyielding. “Don’t even try to deny it.”

He’d studied you too well. And yet, you were still willing to try.

You straightened, forcing a smile, though the movement sent a jolt of pain through your leg. “Limping? Nah, I’m just… pacing myself,” you said, aiming for casual. “You know, taking in the beautiful scenery.”

You knew you were being stubborn and this was a mistake. But the thought of finally putting an end to the gommage worked as a fuel in your body, moving the wheels and giving your strength despite the pain.

Verso didn’t smile back. Instead, he stepped closer, his presence towering, gaze dropping to your leg. “You’ve been ‘pacing yourself’ since the fight this morning,” he pointed out, tone edged with frustration. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” you pushed too quickly, and you cursed yourself for how unconvincing it sounded.

You shifted your weight, trying to hide the way your leg trembled, and flashed him a playful grin.

Okay, one last attempt to play it off.

“You’re so serious all the time, Verso. Maybe you should take a chill pill.” You leaned closer, your voice teasing, hoping to throw him off. “I can make you smile if you let me.”

His expression didn’t soften, though a flicker of something—amusement, maybe—crossed his eyes before it was swallowed again by worry. “You’re hurt, and you’re hiding it. I’m not playing this game.”

Your smile faltered, the pain in your leg flaring as if to mock your attempt at deflection. You turned away, pretending to adjust your cloak, but Verso was faster, his hand catching your arm—not hard, but just enough to stop you. “Show me,” he said, his voice quieter now, a plea wrapped in a command.

“Please.”

Charming fucking bastard.

You sighed, defeated, and you sat on the boulder, wincing as the movement pulled at your wound.

He always managed to find a way to the inner you, the you that had no place in a world like this. Prioritising feelings would be a grave mistake, especially knowing that any attempt to keep the stability would only lead to further destruction.

Verso knew this more than anyone.

And yet, malleable beings that we are, we keep falling into the same loop. Such is the essence of our hearts, rarely escaped.

Verso knelt in front of you, his hands careful as he pushed your cloak aside, revealing the makeshift bandage on your thigh. The cloth was soaked with blood, the gash beneath it deep and angry, and his breath hissed through his teeth at the sight.

“This isn’t ‘nothing,’” he said, his voice low, a mix of anger and hurt that caused your chest to tighten.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You looked away, guilt settled heavy in your gut. “I didn’t want to worry you,” you admitted.

“I didn’t want you—or anyone—thinking I can’t handle myself. We can’t afford to slow down, not now when we’re so close to her heart.”

He went silent for a moment, his hands still on your thigh, his touch gentle despite the tension in his frame. Then he let out a soft, exasperated laugh, shaking his head.

“You think I’d see you as weak because of this?” he scoffed, his voice softer now, though the worry hadn’t left his eyes.

“You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. But you don’t have to prove it by bleeding out.”

He had a point. You not taking proper care of yourself would only lead to more trouble later. One person less meant lesser chances of making it there.

Your throat tightened, and you blinked hard, refusing to let the tears fall. “I just… I wanted to be enough,” you whispered. “For the group. For you.”

You were starting to become vulnerable around him, and it wasn’t even about your injury. Maybe it was just in his nature, drawing people in with his gentle demeanour. You were too quick to trust him when he joined you, and even though he hadn’t given you any reason to doubt him, you still wondered if he indeed was like the way he acted.

It would be a shame if not.

His eyes softened, and he reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek. “You are enough,” he said, his voice raw, a promise woven into the words. “More than enough. And we can’t afford to lose you, not to a Nevron, not to anything.”

The sincerity in his voice completely exposed you, and a tear slipped down your cheek despite your efforts to keep it in. The more time you’d spend with Verso, the more your walls would crumble, revealing your sensitive side, a side that should have remained buried deep.

And that was way worse than an open wound.

He brushed your tear away with his thumb, his touch warm.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I know,” he replied, his hand dropping to your leg again, his focus shifting to the wound. He pulled a small pouch from his belt—supplies he always carried, a habit from his immortal years—and began cleaning the gash, his movements careful but sure.

“But you don’t get to play tough at the expense of your own life.”

You winced as he worked, the sting sharp, but you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips.

“You get kind of bossy when you’re worried,” you said, trying to lighten the mood.

“It’s kind of cute, you know. I like it.”

He glanced up, his stormy eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, you thought you’d pierced through because his lips twitched, a hint of a smile breaking through. But then he shook his head, his expression firm again.

After a few moments, he finished bandaging your leg. “There,” he said, tying off the cloth, his fingers lingering on your skin.

“You’ll live. But you’re not fighting until this heals.”

“Verso—”

“No arguments,” he cut in, standing and offering his hand.

“I’ll carry you if I have to.”

You took his hand, letting him pull you to your feet, careful of your leg.

“You wouldn’t dare,” you teased, but the thought of him carrying you sent a warmth through you that had absolutely nothing to do with the bandage.

He raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes now.

“Try me,” he said, his arm slipping around your waist to steady you. “Now, let’s get you back to the group. And no more heroics, alright?”

You leaned into him, the pain in your leg duller now, overshadowed by the warmth of his presence.

“Fine,” you accepted your fate with a smile tugging at your lips. “But only because you’re so good at playing doctor.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, just for you, and as you walked back to the others, his arm around you.

The road ahead felt a little less dangerous, and the twilight a little less cold.

[foxaftershocks]

Safe and Sound (Mycroft Holmes x f!Reader)

Synopsis: When you're in trouble, there's only one man you call. And he always answers.

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: some mentions of violence, creepy men

You wish you could have said that you’d called Sherlock. He’d be awake, of course he would, and he most likely would be able to help you. If he picked up. But your impulse was never to call him when you needed something. Or, more importantly, when you were in trouble. 

You always called the other Holmes brother when you needed help. 

“This is hardly an ideal time,” Mycroft said into your ear.

“Mycroft,” you whimpered, “I um…”

“What is it?” he sighed.

“I know this isn’t exactly ideal but Carolyn went off with this guy she knows and now I’m here alone and some guys are… I just feel… They keep looking over at me and shouting and I’m not sure if I leave if they’ll stay here or follow me and I… sorry, I know this is a pain but…” you rambled, trying to get out the words you needed to say.

“Stay exactly where you are. I’m on my way,” he said.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

He hung up but you saw when the CCTV camera turned towards you. You hunched in your seat, fingers curling around the empty glass in front of you. Your eyes darted over to the group of men, drunk and loud. One leered over at you. You looked away as quickly as you could, going back to considering the ice melting in your glass. 

The door opened, cold air sweeping into the pub. You pressed back in your seat, not risking looking up and inviting more attention on you.

Someone slid into the booth across from you.

“This is a rather depressing place,” Mycroft said.

You looked up, feeling yourself relax a fraction of an inch. He was gazing around at the pub, nose wrinkling in disgust. And despite the late hour, he was still dressed impeccably, the way he always was, not a hair out of place. 

“Don’t bother, mate. She’s being a prick tease,” one of the men from the big group called over.

He didn’t bother responding, turning his eyes back to you. You released the glass, your knuckles aching from how tightly you’d been gripping it. 

“It’s Carolyn’s local,” you said, keeping your voice soft, “she wanted to grab a drink so I met her here.”

“And she left you alone?” he asked.

“I told her it was fine,” you replied.

“It’s two in the morning,” he said, soundling less than impressed. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, looking down at the fingers twisting together in your lap.

“I’m not-” He cut himself off in frustration before he softened his voice, “there is no need to apologise for calling me. I would rather you do that than have harm come to you. I’m angry at her for putting her selfish needs before your safety.”

“She really liked the guy,” you said, your only defence for your friend.

“Irrelevant,” he replied.

Your gaze darted up to him. He hardly looked happy, but if he was being honest, always a toss up with him, then it wasn’t you he was unhappy with. He reached across, moving the glass away from you, no barrier between the two of you.

“Come on,” he said, “I’m taking you home.”

His hand hovered over the small of your back as he led you out the door. You did your best to ignore the wolf whistling from the group of men who had been harassing you all evening. His hand landed on you, giving you the strength you didn’t know you needed.

You slid into his car, idling by the front door. He settled beside you, watching the door of the pub until you’d pulled away, leaving it behind. When he looked at you, you shivered, breath catching.

“You should reconsider your friendship with this Carolyn,” he said.

“She’s not so bad. She just really fancies that guy,” you said.

“You would never act so selfishly for someone you care about. Even for a man you may find yourself attracted to,” he said, dismissive, haughty, passing judgement without even knowing.

You stayed silent. Through your mind flashed all the plans you’d dropped when he’d called, all the events you’d left early when he’d asked, all the texts you’d left unanswered when so caught up in his presence. Not that you were going to tell him any of that. Unbearable embarrassment is all that would bring. 

“You don’t agree,” he said.

“I’ve not always been the best friend,” you replied with a small shrug.

He considered you for a moment, eyebrows drawing together. You looked away, staring out the window as the night drenched streets rolled past. He shifted but didn’t say anything more.

“I’ll walk you up,” he said when the car had stopped in front of your building.

“You don’t have to,” you said, voice quiet.

“My duty is not done yet,” he said. 

“Okay.”

He followed you up the stairs to your door, hand lingering on the small of your back. His touch was burning through your coat and shirt. Your hands were shaky as you tried to unlock your front door, not used to him touching you so much. His hand closed over yours, steadying it as he inserted the key into the lock.

“Thank you,” you said.

You stepped away from him, into your flat, turning to look at him on the other side of the door, still in the hall. 

“Duty done,” you said, “sorry for calling you so late.”

“I’m glad you did,” he said.

“Why?” you asked, “I thought you didn’t do caring.”

He was staring at you like you’d asked an incomprehensible question. Sighing, you shook your head.

“Never mind. Thank you,” you said.

You closed the door on him before he could say anything. You stepped away from the door, wondering if you’d messed the whole thing up. It was possible he was going to go home and realise he had been acting out of character and was never going to help you again. 

You flung the door open.

“Wait,” you called, only to find him only about a step back from the door, pretty much exactly where you left him.

“I’m waiting,” he said, raising an eyebrow at you.

“I do want you to explain why you’re glad I called you,” you said.

“Perhaps we should discuss this inside,” he said.

You glanced to your neighbour’s front door then nodded your head. He didn’t bother looking around your cramped flat, as if he already knew what it looked like. It wouldn't surprise you if he did. He was known for his surveillance skills. Stalking, some might say. Still, it made you feel safer to know he was watching you.

“I believe you had a question,” he said, turning to look at you, both hands clasped on the head of his umbrella.

“Why were you glad I called you tonight?” you asked.

“Your safety matters to me,” he said.

“Why?” you asked.

“I find myself feeling rather protective over you,” he replied.

“Why?” you asked.

“You do seem to enjoy asking questions like a child,” he said.

“I want you to expound on your reasoning,” you said, “better?”

He raised an eyebrow at you. Rolling your eyes, you brushed past him towards the kitchen. You flicked the kettle on, craving your cup of bedtime tea. He watched you.

“Do you want one?” you asked.

“If you’re offering,” he said.

“I am,” you replied.

Pulling down the mugs from the cupboard, you turned your back on him. Under his scrutinising gaze you were finding yourself feeling jittery. It was hard to keep yourself together when you were around him. Especially when he was finally answering some questions.

Especially when the answers were making your heart flutter.

Placing the mugs down on the counter, you took a deep breath before turning to face him again. He’d drawn closer without you noticing. You froze, not sure what to do now. He took another step closer. 

“The thought of those men hurting you made me consider the torture I would put them under in retribution,” he said, “I got very creative.”

“Oh,” you said, not sure what to say to that. But the thought did make you tremble. You couldn’t tell if it was from fear or from arousal. Maybe a bit of both.

“You should know your continued wellbeing is important to me,” he said.

“Are you going to tell me why?” you asked, voice soft, looking up into his face.

“Despite my better judgement, I’ve found myself caring for you,” he said, voice deepening in a way that made you feel breathless. 

“I thought you didn’t allow yourself to care for others,” you said, “I thought caring was a weakness.”

“It is,” he replied, sounding frustrated about it.

“But you’re doing it anyway,” you said.

“I find myself enjoying it,” he said, fingertips brushing over your cheekbone.

You shivered from his touch.

“Even if it’s a weakness?” you asked.

“It’s difficult to remember it’s a weakness when it feels so lovely,” he said.

You tilted your head up towards him, lips parting, an offering you hoped he took. His eyes were taking a leisurely path over your face. The expression on his face had softened, the danger gone as he gazed down on you. He took his time, lingering in places that had you heating under his gaze.

“I’m truly hoping you feel similar to me,” he murmured, “otherwise this will be excruciating.”

“I suppose it depends on what type of caring you’re talking about,” you said, voice equally soft.

“The kind where it wouldn’t be a burden to share a life with you. The kind where I wonder what you’re doing at all points of the day. The kind where I’d quite like to kiss you now, if you’d allow it,” he replied, head dipping towards you.

The whistle of the kettle was loud as it broke into your little bubble of conversation. You jumped, breathless and wanting in ways you hadn't known were possible. Turning away, you pulled the kettle off the stove. Mycroft dodged out of the way as you brought the steaming kettle over to the counter with the mugs, pouring the water in. 

His hands landed on your waist, turning you once the kettle was no longer in your hands. He pressed you back against the counter, pinning you there, so sure in his movements. 

“Mycroft,” you whispered.

“Why did you call me to come look after you?” he asked.

“Because I knew you would,” you replied.

“I’m sure others would have,” he said.

“Maybe, but they’re not you,” you said.

“And that matters because?” he asked.

“I feel safest with you.”

He let out a soft breath, not smiling exactly, but looking calmer, like you’d settled things in his mind. 

“No one will keep you as safe as I will,” he said.

“I know,” you said, certain of it. He’d proven it time and time again that he was always going to prioritise your safety. He always helped you when you asked. He always answered your phone calls.

“May I kiss you?” he asked.

“Please,” you said.

His lips were slow to descend onto yours, kissing you with an intensity that stole your breath. Whimpering, you curled your arms around his neck. His hands were still on your waist, pinning you to the counter, pressing forward. You’d never felt so alive, nor so safe, as you did in his arms. 

He groaned, kissing you deeper, pressing you harder against the counter. He seemed unable to help himself, the loss of control the sexiest thing you’d ever experienced. His hands slid around your waist, pressing into your spine, arching you into his body. You moaned into his mouth, muffled, fingers curling in his hair. The sound he made, a low growl in his chest, was going to be burned into your brain forever more.

And you were sure every time you revisited it you’d be flooded with the heat of desire just as you were now. 

“I will always take care of you,” he murmured against your lips.

“I know,” you said.

He kissed you again, as if unable to stop himself. You liked this version of him, the one that seemed to be less in control due to you. You felt powerful. Dragging him closer, fingers tightening in his hair, his groan was filthy. You wanted to keep hearing it. 

You forgot about the tea until the next morning, finding it stone cold, still in the cups on the counter.

[nightwingsgypsyrep]

Oh my God @ev-arrested, I’m low-key tearing up. This is so much more eloquent than my ramblings could ever be!

The thing with my community is that it is so big and has a lot of variations. We’re not a nationality, we’re all over the world, of all ages and social classes. I’m sure no matter how you portray Dick, there will be some out there who relates to him. The great thing about comics is that it’s a mythos built up over decades.

I’m a Showman, aka a Carney if you’re American. I grew up speaking Romani, and before my family were fairground/circus, they were just gypsies (in their own words), but we have been doing fairgrounds/circuses for centuries, so there is an identifiable Showman culture - it’s why the government calls Showmen a cultural identity and Gypsy/Romani/Traveller is the ethnicity. That’s why I identify with both - I’m a Showman because that’s what I and my family do for a living, and have done for centuries, but in my blood I’m still a traveller/gypsy. In normal conversation, I use both terms, but here I tend to just use gypsy (despite this being the term I use the least irl) as it’s the most broad and requires the least amount of explaining (as both ‘traveller’ and ‘Showman’ have various different meanings, and are largely UK-centric terms).

Because I’ve got the fairground/circus background, I’m going to have different experiences than others who are Romani but not Showmen, and that’s a good thing; in the space of fandom, it lets us see so many different angles and provides so many layers to a well-loved character. Through this fandom, I’ve also spoken to other Dick Grayson fans who are Romani/have Romani heritage, from England where I live, to Spain, to America. We all have different experiences too. I’m hardly the gospel, and of course the comics - whilst referring to Dick as a Carney on a number of occasions, and obviously showing him being from the circus as one of his core traits - do emphasise the Roma aspect as well as the Carney aspect, which is interesting as irl I find that those on the fairground tend to fall on either side of the fence based on their own preferences and identity. In the comics, writers tend to use the terms almost interchangeably, which isn’t quite right, but at least they’re acknowledging both? Whether this is because the writers don’t actually understand how it fits in, or even that we (Showmen) exist, I don’t know, but I will say that Dick Grayson is the first ever example of another person from my background/culture/ethnic identity that I’ve ever found in any media, and it’s something which I find exciting, and want to help others enjoy if I can. Mostly I’m just ranting into the void, but everything I say is accurate to me and my experiences.

My aim with this blog, besides shit posting my own DC stuff (so excited for the James Gunn Superman), is just to give my interpretation of a character I love. Others may entirely disagree. That’s fine and welcome. I’m not trying to tell people how to enjoy this character, just maybe teach them something about my community, and if they enjoy it, they enjoy it. I’m a big believer in ‘let people enjoy things’ and it’s all just a bit of fun, at the end of the day.

As for the doxxing, it’s half a joke… I did a lot of charity work in my late teens, and my contract included a lot of talking to the press, so I’m sure someone could use that to find me and my info very easily, but tbh I was mostly thinking about how my friends and family would bully the shit out of me if they ever found this blog, haha!

Ok so might accidentally end up doxxing myself with this one but here we go…

The Himboification of Dick Grayson, and Why It Sucks From A Gypsy Perspective

Warning: this is a long one! Also tw for brief mentions of Dick’s canonical SA/rapes, and discussions of purity cultures.

And disclaimer: none of this is intended to slut-shame anyone, so hopefully it doesn’t come across like that. I’m just hoping to explain the weird sexualisation of gypsies in the media, vs our more conservative attitude to sex. This also isn’t meant to shame anyone or tell you how you must imagine Dick Grayson - if you like dark skinned, more-fem Dick, then you keep on enjoying that! This is just what I’ve noticed as someone who is a gypsy, and some patterns I’ve seen in how Dick is portrayed and received.

So, I have a lot of problems with the depiction/perception of Dick Grayson, and particularly the hyper-sexualisation we see. I am not alone in this, and I know it’s something which has been discussed a fair bit in the past.

Honestly, I don’t even know where a lot of this came from? It’s only really in the past decade or so that we start to see it emerge properly in canon; prior to this, whilst it was agreed that Dick is good looking, he was kind of able to get around as a normal guy, and was praised a lot more for his capabilities and athleticism than for his looks. But with the New 52, there seemed to be this shift where Dick is really reduced to his looks. The Grayson/Spyral comics are particularly guilty of this: so many times we see Dick called an idiot (even if somewhat affectionally), sexualised (even by teen-aged girls when he is in his twenties), and reduce himself to his looks (Dick himself even says something along the lines of ‘It’s a good thing I’m pretty’). You can argue that the whole point of Spyral is that Dick was undercover, but it’s something we still see today (I’m thinking the 2025 Valentine’s Day Damian storyline). We can dismiss this as being ‘out of character’, but with how it’s been a gradually accepted part of DC canon over the last decade especially, I don’t know how long we can reasonably make that excuse.

The gypsy perspective isn’t necessarily the main reason I hate this, it’s just one which I feel capable of offering. (if you’re new here, hi, I’m a traveller/gypsy/showman/whatever you want to call me from a fairground and circus family in the UK. I’ve always stuck to fairgrounds myself but a lot of my family were/are still with the circus so I’m not an idiot and it’s all closely related anyway. I also grew up speaking Romani so there’s that.)

Other reasons I hate it include: the double standards of objectifying Dick being treated as almost acceptable because Dick is a man; Dick as an SA/rape survivor; and the fact that it’s bloody stupid because Dick is a highly competent vigilante and detective - a partner of Batman, then Batman himself, who even on his sick days is solving cold cases for fun. He is a genius ffs.

But anyway, onto the potentially doxxing gypsy perspective.

I know that Dick’s ‘gypsy rep’ has been a bit touch and go over the years. Grayson’s run is quite infamous for her handling of this (the whole internalised racism she gave him during his Tevis mob era, and Bruce’s stereotyping in Gotham Knights still makes me feel icky), and it’s only recently that it’s really been discussed again, mostly being ignored by writers in between. However, I’ve also mentioned before that to me, the writer with the most accurate representation is ironically Morrison (because he wasn’t trying). The thing is, even if writers have kind of circumnavigated the whole ‘gypsy’ thing (a term I use because it’s common in the UK, and is one Dick uses himself, alongside ‘carney’ which is the American English version of the British ‘showman’, a subtype of “gypsy”), it’s been canon since Day One that Dick is from the circus. And due to how circuses work, especially with the hereditary nature and how it was more common for the gypsy family who ran the circus to perform in the 40s when Dick was introduced, even if it wasn’t explicitly stated, Dick Grayson has kind of canonically (or at the very least, subtextually) been a gypsy since his introduction.

So now that bit of house keeping is out of the way, why does the himboification of Dick Grayson really annoy me, as a gypsy/showman/carney myself?

So, the first issue I have is really the exoticism. There’s been a large push especially from fan-artists (though it has been very subtlety reflected in canon) to have Dick portrayed with darker skin, to more “accurately” portray him as Romani (spoiler: this is not accurate). There is a fantastic post which explains this further, but it’s actually kind of colourist to say that Dick Grayson is whitewashed. I’m a full gypsy, not a diddakoi or anything, and I’m pasty as fuck. Sure, my dad was often mistaken as South Asian in his youth, as his family are all very olive-skinned and tan dark in the summer, but my mum is white as a sheet (much to her own father’s annoyance) and I take after her. This is the case for a lot of us, especially in the North of Europe. And yet, I am still ethnically a gypsy. Dick does not lose his ‘gypsy card’ for being white. And the fact that many of the fandom view it as necessary for Dick to have a darker complexion to fit this perception of what a Romani person looks like (especially since this perception largely comes from gorjas who’ve never knowingly met a gypsy before in their lives) is not only inaccurate, but kind of problematic. I don’t mind seeing a darker Dick Grayson, but it’s how people act like he has to be dark skinned to be Romani which is frankly just incorrect.

This is doubly problematic when people use his being Romani to exoticise and sexualise Dick. Like with Esmerelda in the Hunchback of Notre Dame, I’ve often seen the fandom (and even canon, to some degree) use Dick’s heritage to make him seem other, and almost remove some barriers for proper conduct (i.e. be overly affectionate, etc). We see this kind of sexualisation with a lot of non-white characters, like Talia for example, and I think that the push for a visibly non-white, exotic Dick Grayson does fall in line with the same kind of racist hyper-sexualisation we see there. Alternatively, maybe this idea of a ‘sexy gypsy from the circus’ has its roots somewhat in real life, but actually results from major misunderstandings: until the sixties, it was common for circuses to have peep shows, with girls outside advertising it in their underwear; the misunderstanding comes in that these girls were not gypsies themselves (see my next point) but hired gorja staff who worked for or alongside us. It’s not unreasonable, then, that a child visiting the circus (and thus shaping their idea of what a circus is) up until the 60s might misinterpret this as being related to gypsies ourselves (songs like Cher’s Gypsies, Tramps, and Thieves, also add to this misconception that we’re the ones in the peep shows when we are not, even if that song is a bop) - if that child then worked for DC or was in the fandom, as writers/artists/fan-fic authors/fanartists in their 20s, 30s, 40s, 50s, from the 80s to the 2000s, they might have mistakenly thought this was part of our culture, and not a business running parallel to ours (I hope this makes sense?). This is just a theory, but one of the only places I can think of this stereotype coming from, besides just plain racism?

Anyway, this hyper-sexualisation is ironic because a big part of our culture is actually that it is a purity culture, with equal expectations on both sexes to maintain modesty and virginity prior to marriage (of course, it’s a bit more relaxed nowadays but the expectation is still there, even if you’re in your 30s and unmarried!). This is drilled into us from a very young age, so even if Dick was removed from his culture by the age of eight, in a real life situation, he would likely already be well versed in this aspect of our culture. As I mentioned earlier, even before Dick was explicitly stated to be a gypsy, I think it’s definitely possible to read a gypsy upbringing into his character, even if unintentional, as written pre-Grayson - there’s one discussion Dick has about his anxieties about moving in with Kory whilst unmarried (I forget which comic this is from), and I cannot help but feel this resonate with me as a gypsy.

Then there’s the element of dress. TV shows like ‘My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding’ have done a lot to convince people that we all dress immodestly, but first of all: MBFGW focuses on another subtype of gypsy, Irish travellers - not showmen/circus like Dick is portrayed to be; and secondly - it’s such a small percentage of the population who do dress like that, that it cannot be taken as truth. I’ve a fair few cousins who are half-Irish traveller, and none of them dress like that. You’re far more likely to find a gypsy man wearing a shirt, a jumper, a pair of jeans, and boots than any of the gelled hair and vest top combos you see on there.

It’s a big thing that Dick has some questionable fashion choices (which are often featured as justification for his supposed ‘himbo-ness’), and this is definitely true in canon (Discowing, that one polka dot shirt, the mullet era… oh Dick, you disaster), but I’ve seen a lot of people correlate that directly with his growing up in a circus. As someone from that background, let me tell you that is just a Dick thing. It has nothing to do with being from the circus, we all dress rather normally - I’m sat writing this in a blue T-shirt, a pair of navy jeans, and a pair of boots - aka the kind of thing Dick wears more often than not in later not-the-80s canon! The thing is, this kind of presumption is something I’ve experienced myself in real life. I was doing some charity work, and there was a press element - when the journalist found out I was a gypsy from a circus family, and that I had horses, I was told to come to the photoshoot in my ‘little pink sparkly dress or whatever it is I ride in.’ I ride in jeans and a T-shirt btw. They just presumed because my family owned circuses, I must do vaulting and perform and I don’t - I worked in the kiosk or on the rides. The point is, people make a lot of presumptions about us just because we’re from the circus, and it’s not accurate.

Then there’s also the fanon effeminising of Dick: often giving him softer, feminine features, make-up, etc, to make him ‘pretty’. Like with the skin-colour issue, draw Dick however you like. You do you. But don’t use his being a gypsy to justify that. Tbh, the vast majority of gypsy men I know are extremely masculine: physically, the cis-men of our community tend to be quite tall, stocky, with calloused hands and broad shoulders, by virtue of the fact that we have to build up everywhere we work, and that’s a lot of physical labour. In Europe, there’s a big drinking culture, and playing football, etc. Men also tend to dress quite masc and practically for blue-collar work. And whilst I am sure that there are some more gender-fluid gypsies out there (I have quite a few gypsy friends who are openly queer, or trans), I have seen so many posts on Tumblr with Dick presented as being quite soft and feminine looking, with make-up etc, and when people in the notes ask why he’s drawn like that, the artist replies ‘He’s Rom!’ and I just want to facepalm. You can be a gypsy and masc-presenting. You can be a gypsy and fem-presenting. However, being a gypsy ≠ being feminine, and I’m really sick of seeing it. As someone who studies ancient Persia (like, I have a degree in it and am writing an academic book), the similarities are so obvious with how the Greeks portrayed the Achaemenids as effeminate, and like with the Achaemenids, it’s just not accurate. Again, if that’s how you headcanon Dick, then that’s great, but let’s not pretend that Dick being a gypsy has anything to do with it.

So I’ve now discussed the sexualisation aspect of Dick’s character a bit (I’ve probably left something out but oh well), and now I’ll speak a bit about the ‘dumb’ part. This is a far more recent thing, I think, and I suspect it might be because: a) people have weirdly tagged Tim as the Smart!Robin (they’re all geniuses) and thought this somehow means the rest must be dumb?, b) because of how sexualised Dick is, they’ve gone full himbo (see: Dick in the Grayson comics saying ‘at least [he’s] pretty’). However, from a gypsy point of view, this really annoys me as well.

When travelling with the fairground/circus, it is difficult to get a stable education. We tend to go to school in the winter months, but in the warmer months, we are more homeschooled (maybe using education packs from our normal school), or at larger fairs/events, a special teacher may be present. It used to be common that if we were at a ground for two weeks or more, we’d be enrolled temporarily in a local school for that time, but this isn’t really realistic today. However, it is also true that traditionally, our schooling was quite halted. Whilst less common, it’s still fairly normal for us to leave school early - for example, I left school entirely aged 13 to work full time on the fairgrounds (yes this goes against child labour laws but nobody actually cares). As a result of this, a lot of us have very limited education (illiteracy is not unheard of in the older generations), so it’s not uncommon for people to mistake this for us being stupid. But the thing is, this isn’t true. My dad left school aged 11, and eventually got a gorja job in his late 30s - he is now the top in the country at his job. I left school when I was 13, but decided I wanted to go to university, so I sat my GCSEs without studying, got into college, and whilst also working a full time job, got my A Levels and got into what is ranked the number one university in the world. When I got in, people really could not believe that someone of my background could do it, so it was on national news and television. It’s not that other travellers/gypsies are incapable - for the most part, we just don’t see the point as we’ve got a job and a culture wrapped up in one which we want to keep alive and successful. The point is, it’s so common for us to be underestimated, and part of what I loved about Dick’s character is that he is unapologetically clever. But over the last decade especially, Dick is once again being reduced to just a pretty face. Now, growing up, it was a cultural expectation to take care of your looks, and whilst I think I always looked ok (washed hair every day, showered, ironed matching clothes), it was not my primary interest in the same way that it was for a lot of my peers. So having a character who was from the same background as me and allowed to be intelligent and respected for it in a way I sometimes wasn’t was really special. So to see that intellect being taken away from Dick, somewhat, does strike me. If Dick is reduced to just being pretty and flirty, that’s as stereotypical as it comes in my community, and I love it when he can be more. I’m not saying that Dick has to be super serious all the time (that’s what makes Dick’s character so great, even if he is a bit more serious in canon than in fanon, though to be fair that’s probably because canon is a lot harder on him than fanon), but he can be hot and flirty without being dumb and overly objectified.

I hope this makes sense and I also hope that none of my relatives or uni friends see this and immediately work out it’s me - there’s a reason I started a whole side blog to separate my silly little nerdy interests from anything my friends might see - but Himbo Dick Grayson is something which I can’t get behind. Let him be smart. Let him be hot but not overly exoticised.

[inkmonster21]

I’m Just Next Door

John Price x Fem!Single!Mom

Series Masterlist

1. New Neighbors

You and your daughter move into a split-level home in a nice neighborhood. The community is friendly, and your neighbors have been welcoming. The house is comfortable and cozy, with three bedrooms and two bathrooms. The neighborhood has a park and playground nearby, and the local schools are highly rated. You feel safe and secure in your new home, and your daughter seems happy and settled in.

You were sitting outside with your daughter, enjoying the warm summer day. You had set up buckets of bright colored chalk, and both of you were drawing colorful designs on the driveway. Your daughter was giggling and chattering happily as she drew, and you were making silly shapes and figures to amuse her.

Your daughter was using bright pink chalk to draw a dog for her collection of colorful drawings on the driveway. She then called out in her childish voice, "Oh, silly puppy dog!" as she completed the picture. She looked up at you with a big grin, waiting for your approval.

You smiled at her handiwork, impressed with her ability to create such a cute drawing.

"That's a very cute puppy dog," you said, ruffling her hair affectionately. "You're a very talented little artist."

You noticed a car pulling up outside the house next door and watched as the driver got out and started unloading boxes from the trunk.

The neighbors had mentioned in passing that the man who lived there was military and traveled a lot. You had heard that he was often away on missions for weeks or months at a time. It seemed he had just returned home from his latest trip.

The man who got out of the car was a tall, imposing figure in his late 30s, early 40s. He had a rugged, handsome face, with a strong jaw hugged with a groomed beard, and intense blue eyes. His closely cropped brown hair was just starting to gray at the temples, but he moved with the easy grace and confidence of a soldier.

He turned towards your direction as your daughter let out a squeal of delight, catching his attention. He paused for a moment, eyeing you and your daughter curiously before giving a small nod in acknowledgement.

You smiled and waved politely to your new neighbor, who nodded back in acknowledgment. You made a mental note to properly introduce yourself later, perhaps after your daughter was in bed for the night.

You spent the evening with your daughter, starting with playful games as she giggled and laughed. Once it was time for dinner, you prepared a meal for her and yourself, making sure to keep it simple to make clean-up easier.

Afterward, you bathed your daughter, getting her cleaned up and ready for bed.

Your two-year-old was resisting going to sleep, despite her evident exhaustion. As she rubbed her tired eyes, she let out a small protest, "wanna look at the stars, mommy.”

You smiled weakly at her protest, feeling exhausted yourself. Giving in, you scooped her up in your arms and carried her into your bedroom, heading towards the balcony doors.

As you opened the doors, a cool night breeze blew through the room, bringing in the soothing sound of crickets chirping in the distance.

You walked back and forth across the balcony, gently stroking your daughter's hair and rubbing her back as she nestled against you. Softly singing, you crooned a lullaby to soothe her tired little eyes.

John had been observing the street as he returned from his latest mission and noticed the "for sale" sign outside his neighbor's house was gone. In their place, he saw a young woman and her daughter playing happily in the driveway.

As he watched, he couldn't help but take note of the young mother's beauty and how devoted she seemed to her child. He had no doubt that a husband would arrive home soon to join them. What a lucky bloke to come home to a beauty like you.

John had once dreamed of having a peaceful life with a family and a loving wife. But over the years, the reality of his line of work and the failures of his previous marriages had squashed those dreams. Now, over a decade later, he had resigned himself to focusing solely on his career.

For John, work was everything. It was his lifeblood, the one constant in his constantly changing world. Ever since he joined the military, he had thrown himself into his job with single-minded purpose, sacrificing relationships, family, and any sense of normalcy in the process.

John's first marriage had ended peacefully, both he and his wife just growing apart as they focused on their respective careers.

But his second marriage had been a disaster from the start. His second wife had been a shallow, materialistic woman who had made his life a living hell. She had spent money like water, insisting on renovating the kitchen and putting in a pool because she had seen it on some reality TV show. John had eventually caught her in bed with an old college flame, and the divorce had been brutal.

John had given up on relationships altogether. He didn't date, didn't engage in any fleeting encounters. All he had was his work and his vices: a good bottle of whisky and a fine cigar.

John prepared himself a quick meal in the microwave, settling for something fast and easy. As he ate, he found himself glancing out the window, noticing that your car was still the only one in the driveway.

John concluded that your husband was clearly a busy man, late at work perhaps.

With your appearance and the care you showed for your daughter, John was sure that you must have a husband or boyfriend coming home to you.

Another two hours passed, and John noticed there was still no sign of anyone coming to your house. All he saw was the movement of you and your daughter inside the home.

John was lounging on his backyard patio, enjoying a glass of whisky and a cigar as he watched a game on the telly.

He found himself distracted, his attention lingering on your house and wondering why your husband still hadn't arrived.

John mused that your husband could be a businessman, traveling for work frequently. But the thought of you being alone for days or weeks at a time was disconcerting. The small neighborhood was fairly quiet, but one could never be too cautious.

John's attention diverted from the game as the balcony doors to your upper level opened, and he watched you step out with your toddler on your hip. He observed how tenderly you cared for your daughter, singing softly and rocking her in your arms.

He couldn't help but admire your nurturing nature.

John felt a pang of something in his chest as he watched you with your daughter on the balcony. He silently wondered how your significant other could be missing out on such a heart melting, tender moment.

As you continued rocking your daughter back and forth, you noticed your new neighbor sitting on his patio. He looked up at the same time, and your eyes met. You offered a small smile and a wave of your fingers, acknowledging his presence.

John caught your gaze as he sat on his patio, watching you tend to your little one. He nodded in acknowledgment, raising his glass of whiskey in a slight salute.

You couldn't help but smile and chuckle quietly to yourself, and he didn’t miss it. He took a drag from his cigar, watching as you continued to soothe your daughter.

You continued rocking your daughter until she nodded off into a peaceful sleep. With careful steps, you walked into the house, carrying her to her bed to tuck her in for the night.

John tried to remind himself that he didn't care, that he was merely bored and had nothing better to do. Yet, he couldn't stop the way his eyes kept darting towards your house, watching for any sign of trouble.

He wondered, was it truly possible that you were managing motherhood all by yourself?

If you truly were on your own raising your little girl, John couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. It wasn't right, he thought. Who was there to lend a helping hand, to give you a moment's rest?

A beautiful woman like you, with such an innocent little girl, shouldn't have to face such challenges alone.

[tj3star]

🖼️ Day 30 - Mount🖼️

[reikunrei]

feeling a little weird about this holiday season and i’m not really sure why

[floorpancakes]

a banshee prima ballerina themed outfit i just freshly cooked for spectra demonica’s outfit contest!! the skirt really draws the eye, doesn’t it? it’s my favourite part.

[sanchoyo]

after the vehicle hunt has been a big flop (the few vehicles I was interested in drove terribly on the test drives :( and car salesmen waaaay highballing cars worths which is. A crazy thing to do when I can literally look up the average worth of a car in 2 seconds??) after going to so so many websites and irl dealers. i found a van I really really love the look of and it’s only like an hour away!! (vintage van-rv combo!! Small enough to not be insane on gas while combining my many years long obsession with having a small rv-like thing AND my nostalgia for my now gone first van…)

And the thing is actually low priced for its type… but insanely out of my budget still 10,000 more than what I have. It’s insane how much vehicles cost. This thing is like 10 years older than I am and it still costs that much?? Wanting a thing really bad will have u googling shit like what body parts can I sell legally 💀

[sinkuna]

୨୧ ― The flickering neon sign outside Toji's shitty little apartment paints his sweat-slicked back in a red glow as he slams into you, bare with no condom this time. His rough calloused hands bite into your hips hard enough to bruise, the smack of skin on skin drowning out the choked whimpers you can't stop.

"Look at you," he growls, voice gravel drenched and smug. A thick vein pulses along his cock as he drags it out slow -too slow- just to watch your pussy flutter, desperate and empty, "Clenchin’ like a fuckin’ virgin around me every goddamn time. Beggin’ me to stay." His thumb swipes through the mess dripping down your thigh, shoving two fingers past your parted lips without warning, "Taste that? All you. No rubber bullshit ruining the flavor... Or fun."

You gag around his digits, tears pricking your eyes as he rams back in with a squelch. The obscene wetness of him splitting you raw makes your toes curl. He’s right -fuck he’s right- every drag of his bare cock lights your nerves like kerosene.  

"Shoulda seen your face," he laughs, hips snapping forward to nail your cervix in a way that makes you see stars. The headboard cracks against the wall, your nails scratching red angry lines into his back. It's too good, so fucking good, but the thought of him filling you up like this- "Eyes wide, screamin’ ‘Toji, please, I’m not on the pill-!" His mimicry of your panic is vicious, mocking, "Too late now, princess, I'm gonna pump your womb full 'til it takes."

You feel him swell, thicker, hotter. Panic claws up your throat, "Wait-wait, I can’t-!" Despite your protests you can't help but pull him closer, thighs wrapped tight around his waist as he hammers home again and again, a broken mantra of, "Oh fuck oh fuck oh~-"

Toji cuts you off with a snarl, his hand wrapping around your throat and squeezing tight enough to make your pulse hammer under his palm, "You can."

It’s the way he says it -like a vow, like a curse- that unravels you. Your legs tremble around his waist, heels digging into the muscles rippling across his lower back, "S'too good- T-Toji~♡!!! Please don-don't stop!! D-Don't p-pull out~♡! Make me a mother~" 

He grins, all teeth, "There it is."  

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

Toji Zenin hates condoms because he needs you to feel it- the primal, filthy truth of him branding your insides. The schlick of your juices mixing with his cum, the way your walls spasm when his tip kisses your cervix. He wants you dripping him for days, every step a reminder of how he utterly ruined you. No one could ever satisfy you the way he does.

But more than that?  

He hates them because latex can’t give you his kid.

His favorite girl, you- the woman he can picture with a tiny diamond on your ring, belly swollen and soft. The idea of you carrying his brat makes his cock ache and his teeth grind. He imagines you walking around, round and glowing. Your tits, heavy with milk, aching for his mouth.

"S’why you keep comin’ back, right?" he mutters later, holding your limp body close as he licks the sweat from your neck. He rubs your stomach, still flat, but not for long, "Deep down… you want me to put a baby in you."

Toji can see it now- a boy, with his jawline and his eyes. A girl, with your smile and his nose. A handful of tiny brats, all perfect.

He knows it would be a mistake. A kid deserves better than a monster, a man who can count his friends on one hand. Toji will never be anything more than a glorified hired body. But the thought is tempting.

"Imagine my brat, growin’ in that pretty belly. Havin' family dinners… Soccer games… Movie nights…"

He's not the kind of guy you can build a life with. Too rough, too wild, too dangerous. But Toji can't deny the way his heart clenches at the idea.

"Fuck, baby… That'd make me so fucking happy…"

Toji Zenin hates condoms because, maybe, just maybe… He'd like a family to actually call his own.

[incvbvsribbons]

Sneaking into your room while you sleep face down in your bed.

It’s late and I can’t sleep, so pent up and needing some way to relieve myself. I pull my hard cock out of my sleep pants and stroke it over you, imagining how you’d look bouncing up and down on it like a good little cockslut. I bite my lower lip, stifling my moans as I buck into my hand, wishing it was your tight little cunt squeezing every last drop of cum out of me. How absolutely peaceful you look, dreaming about who knows what, while I’ve been lying awake in the other room, thinking of you riding me nice and slow. I gasp suddenly, leaning my head back and quickening my pace, my cock twitching as I shoot cum all over your back and hair.

I stand there, panting, still not satisfied, eyeing your perfect silhouette as you lie there, your panties hugging your ass in all the right places. I slowly get onto the bed, sitting behind you as I grind my cock against your ass, almost passing out from holding my breath, hoping you don’t wake up.

It’s still not enough.

I pull your panties off gently, exposing your holes as I rub my cock against the entrance of your cunt.

It’s still not enough.

I give in, pushing it inside of you, telling myself “just the tip” over and over again, until I come to the realization that you’re absolutely soaked.

You’re such a desperate, needy little slut that you couldn’t sleep without watching some rough porn on your phone, and passed out grinding on your bed, probably whimpering and begging for someone to to fill you up.

Before I realize it I’m already balls deep inside of you, pounding your dripping pussy while gripping your thighs tightly. You start to stir but it’s already too late, as I bend over and cover your mouth with my hand.

“Fuck, baby, I didn’t want to wake you up but I needed to let out some stress and you looked so good.” I moan, railing into you while you let out surprised shouts and moans into my hand, trying to get away while I press you down into the pillow.

“I’m almost done, baby, just relax and enjoy this, you’ve already gotten wetter than when I started, I can tell you’ve already been begging for strangers to do this to you.”

You lie there, unable to do anything but take the abuse like a good little slut, feeling as my cock presses deep inside of your needy little hole while I cum again, despite your muffled pleas.

You quickly realize that it’s still not enough, and that I’ll be here for as long as it takes until im satisfied.

[goldenhourology]

SLACKING OFF.

pairing: jeon wonwoo x f!reader

genre: smut, angst, fluff, coworkers to lovers, friends to lovers

summary: being technologically averse, yet a complete control freak to your core, you tend to annoy senior IT specialist, jeon wonwoo, to no end. but after an apology brings you two closer together, wonwoo finds himself reaching out to you more often than not. on and off slack. despite what you two had originally perceived, you find yourself thrown into feelings that neither of you could've ever prepared for.

warnings: handjobs, fingering, oral (f!recieving), unprotected sex, missionary position, belly bulge, grinding, praise, wonwoo is a service top!!, multiple sex scenes, jerking it in an corporate office bathroom lol, drunk horniness, miscommunication, reader is learning how to open up<3, mutual pining. nsfw (minors / ageless blogs dni).

word count: 19.2k

note: hello new ppl, welcome to the first goldenhourology one shot ✨ I've written things in the past, but this is my first really long one shot. the longer it got, the more I stressed out lol. but I've seen a lot of people do this 20k word one shots, so I thought I'd try my hand at it! also idk much about tech, so if I got anything wrong in this, pls ignore it. thank you to anyone who gives this a read!!

in rotation: picture you, chappell roan / dress, taylor swift / valentine, laufey / diamond boy, sza

Some said your late 20s were the last few years of fun before you fully allowed yourself to be an adult, so why were you always drowning in work?

It didn’t help that you were an executive assistant in one of the biggest software companies in the U.S. When you took the job, surely, you should’ve known that you’d be signing up for an exorbitant amount of work, ranging from invoice management, planning travel for your boss, to even research for senior managers. Despite the constant stress you were under, you liked this job. You liked the trust that your boss had in you. You liked that they let you be independent and figure things out on your own.

And when you couldn’t … you simply contacted IT.

It helped that a senior IT specialist sat right across from your cubicle.

Jeon Wonwoo wasn’t the most talkative cubicle buddy, nor was he the most pleasant. He did his best to give you a smile every once in a while, but he had to fight the urge to throw his head in his hands whenever you send him a message on Slack. You didn’t typically need help with anything, except in the area of tech. You were so organized and incredibly smart – it didn’t take an idiot to see that – but god forbid, sometimes … you could be so technologically averse.

Maybe he just had too many years of schooling under his belt – he was 28 now with both a Bachelors and Masters in Software Engineering – but you surprised him with some of your requests. Sometimes, you’d delete files by accident, need to renew your subscription to important apps, even locked yourself out of your own computer once. He had interns underneath him that could be available to help you, but you had consistently messaged him. And he sat directly across from you. No matter what, it was always going to be Wonwoo that had to help you. Fate had made sure of that.

There were times that you realized you were bothering him. Either you heard him curse from behind his extremely large monitor or he adjusted his glasses so much that you thought he might break them in half. And to be honest, you liked being in control of your own work, so you’d try to find a solution. Typically, solving your own tech problems left your computer in more disarray.

And there was Wonwoo to save the day yet again.

You [10:58 AM]: Morning, Wonwoo!

You [10:58 AM]: I screwed up

You [10:59 AM]: Boss sent me some documents that were password protected, but he’s away for the next two days and not answering his phone

You [10:59 AM]: So I might’ve downloaded some software to help me unlock it and I think it’s attempting to hack my email as we speak

You [11:01 AM]: I’m so so sorry! I didn’t want to bother you

Jeon Wonwoo [11:01 AM]: I’ll be right over.

Luckily for you, Wonwoo was able to fix the problem and stop your email from getting hacked. Whoever was the owner of that virus-filled program you tried to download didn’t gain access to those password-protected documents before Wonwoo secured your computer. But it was close. Too close.

Not only that, but he had a multitude of other projects today. He had to train two new interns … have one of those annual performance reviews with the head of IT … change over a dozen new passwords for people … and then he found out that they’re changing servers. Which meant everything backed up on their former server had to be transferred over to the new one. Fucking great.

He wasn’t sure how many times he sighed today, but it had to be over a hundred. When he couldn’t stand to be sitting anymore, he stood up and paced around the third floor of the building. Today felt like the longest day of his life. And there was a mustard stain on his green sweater vest. And he got a shitty haircut a few days ago. And he probably needed new glasses because he was getting headaches. 

It was time for a coffee. As well as a day off.

Coincidentally, you were also headed to the break room that afternoon in need of a green tea. You were about to walk in when you heard your cubicle mate letting out a frustrated breath while talking to another IT specialist. He was clearly fed up about something, or maybe just tired of this day. You hid next to the doorframe, and just when you thought it was safe to step out, you heard your name fall from his lips.

“I don’t understand how she does it,” Wonwoo complained, hands smacking against his sides. “Seriously, it’s mind boggling. I’m pretty sure she has her Masters in Business Administration, but she does this shit that just makes me … Oh my god, she literally tried to download some faulty software off the internet today, instead of just asking me or someone else for help.” 

“Oh, yeah, everyone wants to turn to you when you got that attitude, man,” someone – Lee Seokmin, maybe? – joked.

“You get what a mean.” Wonwoo watched the first couple drips of shitty office coffee fill his cup. “I was able to save her computer, yeah, but it would be nice to avoid an emergency for a day.”

Seokmin slapped him on the back. “The joys of working in IT.”

You huffed, stalking away from the break room and back to your desk. There was only so much office gossip you could take, especially when it involved you. As soon as you sat down, you finished typing up an email at the loudest volume possible, your fingers basically punching themselves into the keys. You heard Wonwoo slide back into his desk chair, the fresh smell of burnt coffee wafting across to you, and he didn’t say a thing. Not that he would ever know you had eavesdropped. But not a “hello” or “how has computer been after this morning?” He went back to work, burning his tongue on the overly hot liquid.

Maybe Wonwoo was right; maybe you did need to just stop overthinking and ask for help instead of figuring stuff out on your own. Or maybe this asshole needed an attitude check.

You decided to not bother him for the rest of the week, complaining to your friends that Friday night about your shithead of a coworker. They said he might be looking out for you in his own fucked up way. You said he might just be an asshole.

Come Monday morning, you had realized your ignoring hadn’t effected him at all. He still sent you the same small smile as he walked in and sat down across from you. Could he really not see how pissed you are, or had the facade you’d crafted for so long as the perfect corporate employee work too well?

You should just be upfront with him, take control of the situation. Like always. 

You [9:44 AM]: I heard you in the break room a few days ago.

You [9:44 AM]: I just didn’t want to bother you. That’s why I had tried to figure out the issue on my own. Didn’t realize that was a crime

Jeon Wonwoo [9:46 AM]: Crap.

Jeon Wonwoo [9:46 AM]: You weren’t supposed to hear that.

You [9:47 AM]: Well, I did

Jeon Wonwoo [9:50 AM]: Listen.

Jeon Wonwoo [9:50 AM]: Not that it excuses anything, but there’s so much going on at work. It wasn’t all about you. I was complaining just to complain and I didn’t mean any of it.

Jeon Wonwoo [9:50 AM]: I’m sorry.

You [9:51 AM]: Wow

Jeon Wonwoo [9:51 AM]: What?

You [9:51 AM]: You’ve never come across as someone who can apologize well

Jeon Wonwoo [9:52 AM]: Are you sure you aren’t projecting right now? We sit across from each other. I’ve seen how stubborn you are.

You [9:53 AM]: I thought you were apologizing to me????

Jeon Wonwoo [9:56 AM]: I’m sorry. Again.

You [10:01 AM]: Okay, you’re forgiven

Jeon Wonwoo [10:09 AM]: Can I make it up to you with a coffee?

You didn’t go out on dates. The last one you went on was … years ago, probably in undergrad. Once you go for your Masters, all energy to date goes out the window.

Not that this was a date. This certainly was not a date.

This was an apology coffee after work, since the two of you seemed to have an affinity for caffeine at late hours.

Even if, per chance, he thought this was a date … you’d eventually have to let him down easy. It probably wasn’t in your best interest to date someone like Jeon Wonwoo, but you’d also closed yourself off from love for far too long. It wasn’t that you didn’t get lonely – you did, very much, especially on late nights where it was just you and your favorite vibrator – but it was just … scary. Opening yourself up. Losing just a small semblance of control. You weren’t even sure you could physically allow yourself to do that after being alone for so long. 

Your heart had been tucked away so many years ago, locked inside a box, and then in another box, and so on. With the final lock being so complicated that only someone who knew the last four of your social security number could answer. No one was opening up that box. Your heart was safe from the outside world.

You were independent, reliant on only yourself, and you liked it that way.

Once he had gotten both your coffees, he sat down next to you at a hightop table, folding his winter coat over the back of his chair. He had managed to remember your latte order and it tasted perfect. Your eyes flitted up, ogling him for a moment. When you’re not under the fluorescent lights of the office, Wonwoo was … attractive. To say the least. Maybe he always had been and you were too blind to see it. Maybe his face was perpetually hidden by his monitor.

His hair was tousled in the way that it looked effortless, even if he hadn’t brushed it after rolling out of bed. He had a tendency to wear sweater vests with white t-shirts underneath, or button-downs with jeans. But it was only when he showed off his forearms that you realized he was surprisingly built underneath his oversized clothes. He was tall and his shoulders were broad. You liked his glasses too; they always sat on the edge of his nose. A thin line was etched into both lenses, suggesting age, but they framed his face well.

Yeah, you thought to yourself, he is handsome.

“Why are you staring at me?” He asked, knocking you out of your stupor.

You blinked and looked down at your coffee, removing the lid. “Oh, I … uh … good question.”

“Listen,” he started, eyes flickering to his hands, “I’m really sorry about what I said –”

“You don’t have to keep apologizing.”

“– And I understand if you want to go to HR about this –”

You shook your head. “Wait, what? Why would I do that?”

He glanced around, until finally, his eyes were on you again. And suddenly, you were wondering if his eyes were dark brown or the color of cinnamon. “Isn’t that what any rational person would do?”

He had you stumped there. If this were a different situation … you probably would do that. “I’m not going to tell HR about this, Wonwoo. You apologized and said you didn’t mean it. I have to trust that.” And you didn’t trust lightly – hardly at all – but something about Wonwoo made you feel like it could be easy with him.

“We all have shit days,” you added, taking a sip of the scalding hot latte. “You have a ton of stuff on your plate. Doesn’t give you an excuse for what you did, but we all say things in the heat of the moment that we don’t mean. I have so many things to organize throughout the day, and sometimes it gets the better of me. Remember when I had book that last minute trip for our CEO and I was on the phone for hours with Delta and Suzanne in finance had the nerve to start bothering me about some invoice? I lost it on her for a straight minute.”

“Oh, my god, yeah,” he chuckled, pinching the bridge of his nose as the memory resurfaced. “Her eyes almost came out of her skull at your reaction. To be fair … Suzanne needs to be knocked down a peg sometimes. She always blames IT when she can’t get into her email, but it’s because she’s constantly typing her password with one letter off.”

You couldn’t help but giggle. Your hand hit the tabletop a few times as you let your workplace personality fade in front of your coworker. “Those new IT interns don’t know what’s coming once Suzanne comes for them,” you joked.

“The IT interns don’t know anything. Period.” He jabbed his finger onto the table. “I mean, they’re interns, but it takes so much time to train them. If I have to teach them JavaScript one more time …”

“Say it, Jeon Wonwoo,” you egged him on, a chuckle filtering at the end. “What will happen if you have to teach those good for nothing interns JavaScript?”

A slow smile made it’s way onto Wonwoo’s face, and … damn, you were actually a really cool person. “Well,” he cleared his throat, “I’ll tell you what will happen …”

Jeon Wonwoo [12:13 PM]: Did you bring lunch today?

Jeon Wonwoo [12:13 PM]: I just found this new cafe down the street and was thinking about grabbing something there in a few. Did you wanna come?

You [12:14 PM]: Do you think they have a chicken salad sandwich on the menu

Jeon Wonwoo [12:15 PM]: I can only assume so?

You [12:15 PM]: SOLD

You both go out for more coffees, before and after work. You found yourself excited to wake up early, to meet up with Wonwoo at the coffee shop located in the lobby of your work building. Always getting there before him, you typically ordered two coffees – remembering his order to a T – and when he walked in five minutes late, he promised to buy the next round. You never let him.

You began planning lunches over Slack, discussing what was on special at that cafe he found last month. In fact, you two talked most of the day on Slack. A message from you had once gotten on his nerves, and now … he was eager for it. Eager to hear your thoughts throughout the day, excited to talk about what new dumb question an intern asked him today or to see more pictures of your grandma’s cats.

And Wonwoo … Wonwoo was easier to get along with than you thought. You just had to peel back the layers before he finally got comfortable, and honestly, you could relate. To be fair, you had a few more layers than he did, but he was slowly learning that you were more than what he perceived. After that first coffee, he realized how funny you were, and then a couple lunches later, he learned you were an avid romance and thriller reader – and nothing in between. It wasn’t until last week that he finally cracked you open enough to learn about your love for Elder Scrolls Online. He was sure you were joking at first, but when you clarified how serious you were, he almost fell off his chair.

“I’m not shocked that you play it,” he said over coffee one morning. “What I’m shocked at is that you’d rather play Elder Scrolls Online and not Skyrim.”

“Of course, you would say that,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “I don’t really have an interest in the game universe. I started playing Elder Scrolls Online to relieve stress while applying to colleges, and then I just … didn’t stop.” You shrugged.

Much to his own surprise – even with your take on Skyrim – Wonwoo thoroughly enjoyed your company. It was insane that you both had spent almost two years sitting across from each other before realizing how much you liked each other. Words always left unsaid. Eyes staying glued to computers. It had been a routine for you both that you had never strayed from – until now. So many tech requests over Slack … and now he was actively looking forward to work everyday. To seeing you. To talking with you. 

You.

Jeon Wonwoo realized how much he liked stockings. Specifically, he liked the way you looked in them.

And that’s when things got dangerous.

He started to notice the days you would wear them, and then concluded which day you did laundry. You liked wearing blouses with a pencil skirt and stockings on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays. Those were now his favorite days. 

Wednesdays you’d wear dress pants and maybe a sweater, whereas on “Casual Fridays,” you were clad in a t-shirt with a cardigan layered and jeans. You always looked nice at the office, but those stocking days … they were getting to him.

Sometimes, he’d watch the way you walked away from your desk – either to the Boss’ office or to the finance department – and he couldn’t help but let his eyes trail down your legs. You had these stockings that had a slight tear in the back, and he wondered if you realized, or was he just too much of a perverted loser to be the first person to notice? He wanted to purchase a new pair for you. He wanted to replace all your stockings and buy you enough that you could wear them with a skirt everyday, just so he could see you in them.

Maybe he was a loser.

You looked up at him, even in heels, and you had this way of smiling at him that left him questioning why you liked hanging out with him in the first place. His personality couldn’t be that charming to warrant your attention. But you were warm – even when your hands were perpetually cold – and kind, never straying once he was in front of you. And you had this lip gloss that stained your lips magenta and made them shine. Even in the dim fluorescent lights. When his chair turned just slightly and he let his eyes glaze over you, one finger rubbing at his top lip, he couldn’t help but be curious if the gloss had a flavor to it … and then, he’d get distracted by your legs again. And your blouse, and your hair. 

Don’t even get him started on the way you smelled.

Maybe he was a loser. No, he was most definitely a loser. 

It was a Thursday night. Almost 7 PM and you were still at the office. You had plans to go out tonight to celebrate your friend’s new job, but you ended up having to cancel when the Boss placed a stack of paperwork on your desk before leaving the building at promptly 6 o’clock. Why he couldn’t have given you all these invoices and memos hours ago was beyond you, but you weren’t even halfway through this stack and the janitor was now mopping beside you.

When a Slack notification appeared on the side of your monitor, you didn’t even read it before spinning around in your chair. There Wonwoo was, leaning back in his own chair while a progress window ticked on one of his dual monitors. You raised a brow. “I didn’t even hear you over there,” you commented. “Why are you still here?”

“A month or so ago, the IT head told me that we’d soon be transitioning servers, so all of our backups and data need to be transferred over to this new server.” He explained, adjusting his glasses and glancing over at the progress window. It changed from 23% to 24% finished. “Someone had to be the lucky person to stay after hours and make sure it all went smoothly.”

You twirled a pen in your two fingers and crossed your legs. “Oh, that sucks.” Your skirt hiked up a little, and just that small flash of exposed skin had Wonwoo averting his eyes.

“Yeah,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’m assuming you’re still here because of that.” He nodded towards the pile of paper.

“No, no, obviously I love being here after hours with you,” you replied, sarcasm dripping from your tone, but it still ignited a short spark of hope within him. (Wonwoo, can you chill the fuck out? He chastised.) “You know the Boss has a penchant for letting invoices pile up. He just so happened to let that pile end up on my desk before he left today. And some of these needed to be filled out …” Your eyes skimmed the first paper on your desk. “Oh, yesterday!”

Wonwoo offered to help you while also keeping watch of his computer – 28% finished – but you insisted you could handle it. “I already bother you enough during work hours,” you said before turning back to your desk. He knew by now that you were simply too stubborn to give up control of the project. Once you had started it yourself, you needed to see it through. He wasn’t sure if you two were close enough that he could be completely honest, that he could tell you that it was fine to let go this independence that you kept on a tight leash. He was willing to help. (God, was he willing.) 

But he chocked it up to telling you once that you were “so fucking stubborn.”

Your reply had come in the form of a swift kick to his knee.

Wonwoo glanced at his monitor. 67% finished.

It was 10 PM and you were just about finished with the paperwork, but you were running on fumes. Just a few memos left and you’d be done. To get you through the next hour, you needed something. So you headed to the break room, suddenly craving some burnt workplace coffee. (What was it about this coffee maker that gave it such a distinct burnt flavor? You’d never know.) After placing the pod of coffee grounds in the slot and filling the water, you pressed the start button, turning around with a huff to see Wonwoo striding into the break room. A crushed, styrofoam coffee cup was clutched in his large hand before he tossed it in the barrel beside you. 

“How’s your transfer going?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest. Coffee had started to pour from the machine and into your cup.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s at 88% now. Hopefully should be done in the next hour.”

“Me too, if all goes well.” A sigh escaped your lips. “I still have a few more papers to fill out. Shouldn’t take me more than an hour, but I haven’t looked through them all yet.”

Wonwoo stepped forward, reaching in the direction of the styrofoam cups. “If you had let me help you –”

You tried sidestepping out of the way to give him some room, but his hand brushed against your arm anyway. Your chin tilted up as your eyes met his, back pressing against the counter. “It wouldn’t have helped,” you finished for him.

His arm paused mid-air, and he looked down at you. Eyes narrowing, he replied, “You’re one of the most stubborn people I’ve ever met. You have this desperate need to be in control of everything.”

“And why is that a bad thing?” Your tone took a hard edge. The last thing you wanted right now was to put effort into arguing, but you were tired and already on the edge of a breakdown. “I’ve relied on myself for as long as I can remember. I like being in control. I like being stubborn. If I didn’t do most things myself –”

“You ask me to fix something on your computer at least once a day.”

“That’s different.”

“You’re right,” he agreed, and you noticed then just how close he was. Your chests were practically touching. “Sometimes you do try to figure things out yourself and almost break your hard drive.”

His progress window was probably at 93% finished now. He should head back to his desk, but his feet stayed planted right where they were.

“Why does it matter?” You exhaled loud, your hands slapping against your hips. “Do you want an award or something? You have your way of doing things, and I have mine. I’m not perfect, but I … I like things the way they are.” Change is scary, you thought to yourself, but didn’t dare voice it out loud.

He was so close that he could smell your perfume. The scent of lavender mixed with orange blossoms and vanilla filled his nostrils, swirling around his brain. He could get addicted to this smell, to you. Maybe he already was. When his eyes roamed down to your legs and he saw his favorite pair of stockings on you, he damn near collapsed. In fact, he hadn’t even realized the soft groan had left his lips until your gaze found his, your pretty irises growing wide.

You were just so … captivating.

His hands were on both sides of you, pressing your back further into the counter. Your black coffee steaming and fully abandoned in the coffee machine. He was holding himself back, his knuckles going white with restraint. But he wasn’t like you. He could only keep himself in control for so long. And with you here right now, your perfume surrounding him, your stockings-clad thigh brushing against his leg, your a hand placed on his chest … he was a goner.

“Wonwoo,” you whispered, palm still resting on his shirt, “we …”

When your voice trailed off, Wonwoo’s instincts got the better of him. “Please, just …” One hand came up to smooth against your cheek, and he was almost out of breath as he pulled your face to his. “Let me do this.”

He gave you enough time to shove him back, to yell at him, to tell him you didn’t like him in that way. But your neck was craning towards his, and he took that as a sign to crash his lips onto yours. They were softer than he expected, and the taste … your gloss tasted like – well, like nothing. But if he pretended, he could’ve sworn there was a slight cherry aftertaste. His glasses bumped into your nose, but he’d been too overwhelmed to remember to take them off. Mouth moving against yours, his hips crammed you more against the counter, hard enough to leave a bruise on your spine. You didn’t care though. His shoulders were so wide that they shielded you, inviting your body into his, and your fingers fisted into his button-up. Tongues tangled, eager to taste more and more of each other. 

Wonwoo could kiss you forever. You didn’t want him to stop.

But all good things must end. Because when he instinctively placed his leg between yours, he knew this was going too far. Especially because you two were still at work. In the break room.

He instantly removed his leg, his lips breaking from yours. Your eyes connected, the room filled with only the sounds of heavy breathing, before you wiped a trail of spit from your chin.

Wonwoo’s head spun behind him. Thank god, there was no CCTV camera by the coffee maker.

Jeon Wonwoo [9:09 AM]: Good morning.

Jeon Wonwoo [9:09 AM]: I shouldn’t have done that last night.

Jeon Wonwoo [9:10 AM]: Still friends?

You [9:14 AM]: We probably shouldn’t be talking about this on Slack

You [9:15 AM]: Here’s my number: 855-777-0821

You [9:18 AM]: But yes friends :D

Wonwoo did not want to be just friends. But he was utterly terrified of what you would say if he voiced that. You had kissed him back, yes, but … hadn’t you agreed to be friends far too quickly? You had both hung out post-kiss – he liked to call this period of time A.T.K. (after the kiss) – and you didn’t seem to be ruminating on it like he was. Of course, he didn’t know what you were thinking, and you could be so hard to read sometimes when your layers weren’t stripped back enough. But …

Could it really have meant nothing to you?

If that were the case, he didn’t know how it was possible for you. He couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss even if he tried. When he saw you the next day – Friday, January 9, A.T.K. – the first thing he noticed was your lip gloss and all he wanted was to have it smeared over his mouth again. He noticed the way your hair fell over your shoulder, remembering how soft the strands felt when his fingers had slipped between them. He noticed that you were wearing those jeans that hugged your ass just right, and – god, now he was wishing that he had touched more than just your cheek. Wonwoo wanted to touch you everywhere. And vice versa. He didn’t care if your hands were constantly freezing or if they were dry during the winter. He wanted you to touch him however you pleased. He wanted to grab you and kiss you and hold those cold hands in his warm ones –

Oh, my god. He had a boner. At work. Just the mere memory of a kiss had him shifting himself in his pants underneath his desk, hoping no one noticed.

Eventually, he stood up, trying to keep a casual hand over the bulge in his pants as he fast walked to the bathroom. Nobody batted an eye, but you did steal a glance over at him once his back was turned. Your brow raised at the way he was practically sprinting for the elevator, not realizing that he was heading for the second floor restrooms. He must be excited for something. Probably a package, you thought before turning back to your computer.

Wonwoo felt like he could finally breathe once he was inside a stall. He rested his head against the cool tile wall, feeling the ache start to settle in his groin. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this way. What 28-year-old gets a boner from a kiss? You had him acting like a goddamn teenager.

What had you done to him? Just one kiss and he was completely under your spell.

(Or maybe he’d been this way all along.)

His fingers fumbled with the zipper on his jeans as he finally pulled himself out of his jeans, stroking from base to tip. Thankfully, no one was in the bathroom. He couldn’t believe his life had come to this. The last thing he ever wanted was to be that guy who jacked off in the bathroom. But you had to wear those goddamn jeans –

Wonwoo wasn’t good at hiding his feelings, but he was doing a pretty good job even as this was killing him inside. He wasn’t like you; he found it hard to restrain himself, to ignore everything that was bubbling up inside him. He could feel himself cracking. What would be the thing that finally broke him?

The answer was simple: alcohol.

Lee Seokmin [11:26 AM]: Dude lol. Why’d you run away from your desk like that

Lee Seokmin [11:26 AM]: I think you could win the Olympics with that kind of sprint!

Jeon Wonwoo [11:39 AM]: Don’t ask.

Lee Seokmin [11:40 AM]: Alrighty then ;)

Lee Seokmin [11:41 AM]: On another note … you free next Thursday? My buddy in the marketing department, Josh, finally has a night off from his kid so we were thinking of getting a group together for drinks after work. Interested?

The last thing you ever expected was to be invited to drinks with Seokmin and some of the managers in marketing, but Wonwoo said you should come. “In fact,” he had clarified, “you should come so I don’t have to deal with DK’s drunk antics all night.” Who were you to deprive him of your presence when he was that desperate? Plus, there was a nice girl in marketing that was also invited; maybe tonight was the night to befriend her.

But the marketing people knew how to party. You were only halfway through your second beer whereas the rest of your group was on their fourth. And three tequila shots deep. Wonwoo, seemingly, had an affinity for tequila, unlike yourself. He was able to throw them back like it was nothing; he didn’t even need a chaser. When Seokmin had requested they all get a fourth, he was met with a round of cheers, and even Wonwoo – quiet, introverted Wonwoo – threw his hands up with excitement. You placed a hand on his shoulder, whispering in his ear, “Are you sure about that?”

Wonwoo felt his whole body freeze when your hot breath reached his ear. A pale, pink flush appeared on his cheeks, but you chocked it up to how drunk he was. Eventually, he waved away your worry with his hand. “I’m fiiiiiiiiine. Hey, how about I get you another beer?”

“Are you even coherent enough to get me another –”

“HEY! Bartender! Can I get one more of these?!” He shouted, waving your empty glass in the air. “Oh, and more tequila!”

Seokmin slapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder, laughing along with him. As you made friends with the rest of the marketing department, you found yourself glancing at Wonwoo every so often. His cheeks were so rosy now, and his glasses kept slipping down his nose. To be fair though, everyone in this dive bar seemed to be in the same state of mind. Seokmin was singing along to the Sabrina Carpenter song blasting through the speakers. Josh was so drunk that he was crying about how much he loved his friends. They had even gotten Suzanne in finance to come out, and she was making friends with everyone for once. And Wonwoo … oh, god, Wonwoo’s head was now on the bar top and he was closing his eyes –

You abandoned your beer and walked over to your friend, shaking his shoulders. His eyes instantly opened, expecting to see Seokmin, but when his gaze met yours, he instantly felt all warm and fuzzy. “Okay,” you said, trying your best to hoist this 6 foot man off the barstool, “you’ve had enough. I’m taking you home.”

It was like pulling teeth to get him to tell you his address, but you guessed you shouldn’t be surprised when the man on your arm was blackout drunk. After flagging a taxi, you shoved him in the seat next to you and rubbed your hands together to get them warm. Wonwoo’s head was on your shoulder the second you sat down, his eyes fluttering closed as the taxi sped off into the night. You watched his fingers twitch on his thigh as he whispered sleepily, “I think my family would really like you.”

“Is that so?” You chuckled, squeezing his arm for reassurance, but little did you know just how much your touch effected him. “Why’s that?”

“Because you’re you,” he replied, and then yawned. “Only you and Mingyu would do this for me.”

Your brow furrowed. “Who’s Mingyu?”

The taxi pulled up to a brick apartment building then, and your cold fingers struggled to get cash out from your pocket while Wonwoo was practically laying on top of you. Finally, you did your best to haul him out of the seat, thanking the taxi driver before gathering an arm around Wonwoo’s shoulders. The building was definitely old with vines of ivy crawling up one side. There was a dead tree with snow covering it’s branches directly by the door, spilling snowflakes on your head as you struggled to input the code Wonwoo managed to remember. And then, you were pulling him up two flights of stairs, which took far longer than you estimated. You had basically ripped his keys from his hand once you reached his apartment and continued to drag him inside, laying him on the old couch that was conveniently right near the door.

Wonwoo grumbled as soon as his head hit the armrest, and he almost fell off the couch if it weren’t for you catching him and rolling him back onto the cushion. “I’m going to go get you a glass of water,” you said, quickly rushing off to his kitchen. “Please, for the love of god, don’t fall off the couch again.”

He whined for you to come back, but you pretended you didn’t hear it, because if you did, you’d have to reckon with the tingle that bloomed between your legs at the sound of his desperation.

The entrance of his kitchen was right in front of a small hallway that sectioned off two ways. There was a bedroom door on each side of the hall, and once you walked inside the kitchen, you found a tiny table from the 80s and the dishwasher currently running. You didn’t have time to contemplate that now, and instead pilfered through his cabinets until you found a glass and filled it with tap water. Rushing back to his side, Wonwoo was already laying halfway off the couch and you sighed.

You set the glass of water on his coffee table and lifted him back up. With a little bit of help from you, you both managed to shrug off his winter jacket and you tucked a throw blanket over him to prevent him from falling off again. A heavy exhale slipped past your lips as you knelt by his side, and you couldn’t help but reach out to pushed back his hair from his forehead. His eyes were closed, but you knew he wasn’t sleeping. You smiled to yourself.

Were coworkers supposed to show this much affection for each other?

“Wonwoo,” you said softly, and he cracked one eye open. “Do you want some water?”

He shut that eye again, grimacing at the thought of anything entering his body right now. “Ab…absolutely not.”

“It’ll make you feel better,” you persuaded, but he still shook his head. “Okay, so what do you want right now?”

His breath stilled for a moment. “Can I be honest?”

“That’s never stopped you before.”

“I …” No, he couldn’t be that honest. “I want you to … keep p–pushing back my hair. It’s … relaxing.”

You chuckled, “Okay, you got it.” Your fingers were at the crown of his head again, smoothing back the strands. You hadn’t noticed until now that he had a freckle on the left side of his forehead; maybe you’d just never been this close to notice. Well, actually, you had. There was this thing you two did called a kiss –

“If you’re going to fall asleep, I’m going to take off your glasses,” you informed him, slipping his glasses off and setting them by his glass of water. It was late, much later than you anticipated on staying out, and you both still had to go to work tomorrow. 

But then his hand was grabbing your wrist, his grip surprisingly firm for how intoxicated he was. “Can I b–be honest again?” He slurred, his eyes half open to meet yours.

You sighed, placing your hand on top of his, thumb brushing over his knuckles. “Just know whatever you say will be used to make fun of you tomorrow –”

“I can’t … I haven’t …” He took a breath to formulate the words in his head. “… Stopped thinking about our kiss.”

You blinked down at him, watching the way his eyes began to close again as he relaxed into the old couch cushions. “You can’t just say shit like –”

He scoffed dramatically. “I’m noooot,” he defended, his hand slipping off your wrist to curl underneath the blanket.

“Wonwoo …” Your voice trailed off, the words dying on your tongue.

“Who the hell are you?”

You immediately got to your feet at the sound of another person’s voice behind you. Eyes growing wide, you took in the sight of the man in front of you wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, droplets of water trailing down his chiseled abdomen as he shook a smaller towel through his hair. He might’ve been taller than Wonwoo, only by a little bit, and his skin was a golden tan that reminded you of summertime even in this harsh winter. Why was Wonwoo hiding handsome men in his apartment? The man looked at you, waiting for an answer, his brows raised.

“Oh,” you cleared your throat. “Um …”

“Leave her alone, Mingyu,” Wonwoo groaned from the couch, turning away from them to lay on his side.

So this was Mingyu, you concluded. This slightly god-like dude that looked like he walked straight out of a porno was the only other person who’d help Wonwoo when he was blackout drunk. Interesting.

Mingyu raised his hand awkwardly for you to shake. “His roommate,” he clarified.

“Oh,” you replied, grasping his hand for a moment and telling him your name. 

Mingyu instantly grinned, laying the small towel over his neck, holding both ends. “So you’re her.”

You blinked, not knowing how to respond to that. Perhaps there was no way to respond; the silence was comfortable enough. You decided to keep that in mind for later though.

“He’s … well, he got very drunk,” you informed Mingyu, gesturing to a now-sleeping Wonwoo with both thumbs. “I wanted to make sure he got home okay.”

Mingyu nodded, and then sighed. “I’ll take care of him. Don’t worry,” he promised, opening up the door for you. “Get home safe, okay?”

Wonwoo: Sorry about that the other night. I won’t get drunk like that again. It doesn’t happen very often

You: it’s okay! I’m used to handling drunk people

You: don’t get me wrong, I like to have my fun but it’s easier for me to take care of other people than like … be incoherent and anxious lol

Wonwoo: By the end of the night I was starting to feel that way. Not fun

You: DRINK WATER

You: your roommate is hot btw. does he always walk around without a shirt?

Wonwoo: Of course, he didn’t have a shirt on when you met him

Wonwoo: Everyone likes Mingyu

You: well, I like you [UNSENT]

The bi-annual sales meeting was started to boost morale and talk with other departments that you didn’t see as often. It was typically held at a hotel in the downtown city, with the company flying in all the sales reps from across the country. There were even a few from overseas. In reality though, this was usually the week where coworkers made mistakes. At least one person was let go after these sales meetings, and HR had their eyes peeled for an entire week.

You never made a mistake at one of these. And you didn’t expect to any time soon.

This was a week of rubbing elbows with slimy sales reps and making sure some old man hadn’t spiked your drink. For most, this was a week to slack off, but a woman working in corporate couldn’t relax in these settings. You’d been making corrections to your boss’ presentation for the entire company for what felt like forever. (Realistically, it’d been almost two weeks.) You probably went through the 50 slides at least twice as much, checking for spelling mistakes and making sure it was in the right place on your desktop. Not on some random external hard drive. Not in the trash. 

But it was finally the day you’d been dreading. Presentation day, and everyone at the company was eager to hear the Boss reveal if they hit their goal for the year, amongst other things. You checked the slides another time, and then made sure no one would trip over the HDMI cord connected to the projector. The Boss gave you a reassuring smile, and then it was go time.

Your boss could be a shit bag – what CEO wasn’t? – but he had a way of speaking that made everyone so excited for the future. He was probably the reason why morale was always so high, and everyone looked forward to his presentation at these meetings. Your finger hovered over the right arrow button as he went through his speech, pointing out company statistics and what he wanted them all to accomplish this year, before finally getting to the goal reach. And his answer was nothing short of what the audience wanted to hear. He congratulated all of them, and everyone clapped together at the good news.

When you looked out at the crowd that had gathered, you realized almost every seat in the ballroom was filled. Some were even standing near the door and – wait, there was Wonwoo, leaning against the wall in the back. IT didn’t need to be here for this presentation. In fact, they were encouraged to be doing other things, like manning a table near HR and offering on-the-spot tech help. A smile made it’s way to your lips, watching the way Wonwoo was listening intently.

Once the presentation was over and the room erupted in small talk, your boss came over and thanked you for helping out yet again. “Of course,” you replied, as if there was anything else to say. He gave you a comforting squeeze of the hand before walking off to talk to some of his favorite sales reps.

As you shut your laptop and began to place your things in your backpack, Wonwoo slipped into the chair beside yours. Just the sight of his grin set you at ease, but also made you nervous at the same time. Why were you suddenly so nervous? This was just Wonwoo.

Just Wonwoo. Just Wonwoo. Just … your Wonwoo.

“Congratulations,” he beamed, giving you a high five. “I know you’ve been working on this all week, but you did it!”

You always stressed so much about this presentation, but at the end of the day … “All I did was press a button,” you shrugged.

Wonwoo rolled his eyes. “Well, yeah, but you didn’t accidentally delete your file like every other time you’ve messaged me on Slack.” He chuckled, and you scoffed at his teasing. “I’d call that a win.”

The second to last night of sales meeting week was the longest night of the year. It was a tradition for everyone to go out to a bar the company rented out, drinking whatever alcohol they could get their hands on while celebrating a job well done. You only saw half these people twice a year, and half of the time they’d have a beer in their hands. 

You did your best to ignore every sales rep that tried to speak with you without slurring their words, but that was damn near impossible when some were already on their second cocktail. However, no matter how embarrassing it was, you did allow them to compliment you and your hard work. Who were you to turn down the validation? And when the time came, even your boss came over to compliment you again, and you realized there was truly nothing like being good at your job. 

Just for a moment, everything felt okay. It was like the loneliness dissipated, the sting of years without pleasure or having someone by your side … it all faded when you were rewarded for your hard work.

Maybe tonight was the night you had fun for once.

When you finally found Wonwoo later that night, he was surrounded by a few younger members of the IT team, debating what computer language everyone should be obligated to learn. You waved to him from where you stood by the bar top, and that was all it took to have him walking away from his team and towards you. He wrapped one arm around your shoulders, insisting to buy you drinks for the rest of the night, and you didn’t hesitate to agree. If there was anyone here you trusted enough to hand you a drink, it was Wonwoo.

Just Wonwoo.

The hour was reaching midnight now, and you weren’t sure how many martinis you had, but you were hiccuping a storm. That was a telltale sign that you were totally, thoroughly drunk. Wonwoo was only drinking beer and pacing himself, unlike that night at the dive bar, but he was enjoying the sight of you finally letting loose. You hung on his arm, staring up at him with your big eyes, glazing over from all the alcohol coursing through your system. He didn’t like how this effected him; he shouldn’t be attracted to the way your gaze looked while you were intoxicated. But he couldn’t help but wonder if your eyes held the same shine while your lips were wrapped around his –

No, this was too much. He should take you back to the hotel.

The two of you glanced around the bar, realizing it was mostly cleared out. You definitely needed to leave now.

He tugged on your arm, wrapping one of his around your waist to support you. “C’mon now,” he grunted, helping you walk out. “Let’s get you back.”

“I didn’t f–finish my drink thoooooough,” you argued, despite letting him lead you out of the bar. “And I can walk … on my own. Swear!”

“Listen, you took care of me once,” he said as you two walked into the brisk cold air. The hotel was, thankfully, only a block away. “Let me take care of you.”

Even with the alcohol pumping in your veins, just the sound of those words falling from his mouth made you grip him tighter. You felt like your bones were made of jelly, and it wasn’t just from the vodka. It was him, and the way he made you feel, and how secretly warm he was, and the way he took care of you as you took care of him, and – oh, god, you wanted to cry because you liked Jeon Wonwoo so much.

So, so much.

It was much easier to get you back to your hotel room than his apartment, seeing as this hotel had a working elevator. You slumped beside him, tripping over your feet every so often, as he hauled you down the hallway to your room. You gave him your keycard easily, and once the door was open, he squeezed your hand to silently let you know it was time to move again. He helped you into the room, shutting the door behind him, before laying you down on your bed with the clumsiness only he could have. 

You were laughing now, hiccuping from the alcohol, but laughing nonetheless. And he was laughing at your hiccups. Or maybe he just liked the way you grinned at him.

He assisted with taking off your boots and jacket, too embarrassed to remove anything else. And it definitely wasn’t appropriate to either. Tearing back the covers, he nestled you underneath them, and said, “You got everything, right? I’m a call away if you need me.” He grabbed one of the small trash cans in the room and placed it at your bedside. “If you need to vomit and can’t make it to the bathroom, just use the trash can here –”

You hand came out to wrap around his forearm. “Stay, Wonwoo.”

Your sleepy eyes were killing him, making his inhibitions melt and his cock throb at the same time. He sighed, sitting on the side of the mattress, and before he could stop himself, he was tucking hair behind your ear. “You know I can’t do that,” he said, his voice like a caress. “You know how it would look if someone saw me leave this room tomorrow morning. HR is on all our asses this week.”

“I know,” you slurred, and then pressed your flushed cheek into his palm. “I j–just thought you … were taking care of me thoooooooough …”

His resolve crumbled into a million pieces. This was complete, utter torture. You had to know how you effected him, but of course you didn’t, because you were stretching under the covers and yawning like you didn’t just make his heart stop. 

That’s how he ended up in your bed, shutting off the lights and settling underneath the comforter. Until you came closer and rested your head on his chest. Despite how fast his heart was beating, he felt so at peace, and you both fell asleep in the clothes you wore out tonight.

Only a few hours later, you woke with a clear head and the beginning of a hangover. Your head was pounding like crazy, and it took everything in you to slip out from the comfort of your bed and pad your feet over to the bathroom. The bright light was burning your eyes, but you needed it to find the Tylenol you left by the sink. Filling a cup with water, you took the medication and prayed it worked sooner rather than later.

You squinted at yourself in the mirror, realizing you were still in the outfit you wore yesterday. With a sigh, you picked up the big t-shirt you left on the floor yesterday morning and stripped yourself until you were in nothing but your underwear. You pulled the t-shirt on and slumped against the wall, pressing your forehead against the cold tile. Now this felt like heaven for your headache.

It took a couple of minutes to get yourself to move again, feet slapping against the floor as you walked out of the bathroom. You noticed Wonwoo was awake too, in the midst of slinking back under the covers, and you saw his jeans abandoned by his bedside.You crawled back to your cocoon of blankets, and he instantly wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you against his chest. And you … you didn’t move away. In fact, you pressed yourself closer, finally hearing how his heart raced. Wonwoo didn’t care if it was probably 4 AM and he probably had to leave in a few hours – before anyone else woke – because he was holding you and smelling you hair. You smelled … god, you smelled so good that it made him hard almost instantly.

You felt his hand splay against your spine, as if trying to hold himself back, and it was then that your eyes opened. The room was dark, but you knew when his gaze was burning into yours only seconds later. You slipped one hand out from the covers, cupping his cheek as your thumb brushed over his lower lip. Under his breath, he muttered a soft, “Shit,” because you both knew where this was going.

You agreed you wouldn’t do this again. You agreed to be friends.

But now you’re kissing again.

Your hand moved from his face to his neck, and his hands are gripping your cheeks to make sure your mouth stayed on his. His fingers were shaking. He kissed you desperately, as if he needed this just to be able to breathe again, and maybe he did. You were like putty in his hands, molding yourself to his body as your tongue tangled with his. Whatever ache you felt in your temples drifted between your legs, causing you to moan into his mouth. And fuck, just the sound of you made his cock swell, precum soaking through his boxers.

The room felt so hot all of a sudden, but your cold hands came in handy as they rested on his neck. His left hand slid down to your ass, finally giving it a firm squeeze after kicking himself for not doing it when he first kissed you. That made you moan again, and he decided he’d never stop touching you like this, just so he could hear these sounds fall from your lips.

He slid his knee between your legs on instinct, and you didn’t hesitate to start grinding against his thigh. The friction felt delicious and soothing. You both kissed each other slower, a little messier, focusing on touching each other everywhere you dreamed about all these months. Your fingers traced down the column of his neck, down the thin cotton of the shirt he was still wearing from yesterday, while bucking against his thigh. His lips left yours, dragging across your cheek so he could nibble on your earlobe, feeling it grow warm and red from all the attention. “You have no idea how long I’ve needed you,” he whispered, and you damn near almost came from that confession.

You weren’t used to this; you couldn’t remember the last time you experienced pleasure like this with someone, but you couldn’t imagine stopping. Not when he angled his thigh just right, the muscle in his leg rubbing against your clit, your panties completely soaked. You cupped him over his boxers, feeling his bulge throb in your palm, and you cooed, “Can I …”

He groaned. You didn’t need to say more; Wonwoo was smart enough to know what you were insinuating. He felt disoriented, drunk off of you and your touch, smell, everything. “Are you … are you sure you don’t want to …” His voice was giving out, but from the way your fingers were slipping under the waistband of his boxers, you knew you wanted just this, and he’d give you whatever you wanted. “Yes. Yes, of course. That’s fine,” he finished.

You chuckled softly. He smiled against your neck. Pulling his cock out and wrapping your palm around it, you began to stroke him slowly. “Oh, god,” he was sighing into the crook of your neck, his brain in such a state of disarray when you resumed grinding against his leg while also pumping him from base to tip. This couldn’t be real; he had to be dreaming, but he could feel your wet panties sticking to his thigh. He could feel himself shake as he clung to you and pressed sloppy, wet kisses to your throat. It was all too much, but not enough at the same time. 

“Wonwoo,” you whimpered, and he dragged his lips back to yours just to feel how your mouth moved when you said his name. You bucked your hips faster, your arousal coating his thigh, and warmth bloomed between your legs. When your hand on his cock reached his head again, you rubbed the pad of your thumb over his slit, making more precum bead onto your knuckles. “Wanna cum with you,” you begged, stroking him faster and in time with your hips.

“I know you do, I know,” he breathed against your lips. “Just a little faster … yes, just like that. Fuck.”

Only a moment later were you trembling, hips stuttering as pleasure took over your body. You came hard, squeezing his thigh between your legs, and your cry was swallowed by Wonwoo’s lips. If he didn’t kiss you, he knew he’d moan so loud it would wake the entire hotel. Because – oh, god, he was cumming now, and he was sighing against your mouth as he erupted in your hand, ropes of cum staining your t-shirt. He could’ve swore he saw white. He’d never felt a release like this before; not with anyone else. Not even when he jerked off. But maybe it was because this was your hand and you were cumming on his leg, and fuck –

You were still shaking in each other’s arms, minds blank and reeling, bodies coming down from the high. It took the kind of strength that moved mountains to slip from his arms and clean yourself up. But by the time you came back from the bathroom and cuddled up next to him, Wonwoo was already fast asleep.

Jeon Wonwoo [6:08 AM]: I had to leave early this morning before anyone woke. But if you want, I’d like to see you at breakfast this morning :)

You [7:31 AM]: Jeon Wonwoo, I’m begging you to just text this to me

You [7:31 AM]: Also, was your phone hacked? Since when do you use emojis?

There wasn’t much to do on the last day of sales meeting week. The only things on your plate were to make niceties with some of the new reps, and probably attend a few presentations by HR. When you had finally woken up this morning to just you in the bed, you almost considered skipping the HR presentations, feeling too guilty and like they might see right through you. It was irrational, but you were sure that this was the only way to feel after realizing that you hooked up with your coworker and friend. 

Not that you hadn’t wanted to. Not that you hadn’t been thinking about it since your kiss. No, it wasn’t like that at all.

So why were suddenly terrified to see him at breakfast?

You got ready as quick as you could – but of course, making sure you wore that V-neck sweater that showed off your cleavage just right – and threw your hair up before leaving your hotel room. The line for the breakfast buffet was packed, but you waited patiently and decided to sit near the bar once you plate was full. The rest of the dining room was filled with people and you weren’t awake enough to make shitty small talk. Sitting here at the bar top was peaceful and quiet –

“Is this … seat taken?”

Your eyes met his instantly, and you noticed the way Wonwoo was cringing at the line he threw at you. You decided to forget it, for his sake, and gestured for him to sit down. Fuck, you were so goddamn nervous, even though you had agreed to meet him in the first place. You wore this low-cut sweater for him. You both sat in silence for a bit, crunching awkwardly on the burnt bacon, and shifting in your seats. 

“Did you …” You were surprised that your mouth was moving on it’s own volition, spilling any words that came to your head. “… Do anything this morning since you were up early?”

Wonwoo choked a bit on a strawberry, but recovered quickly. “Uh … yeah, yeah, sure. Once I came down here, one of the IT interns found me in a panic because he couldn’t set up one of the rep’s new work phones. Created a whole scene over nothing.”

You snorted and sipped your coffee. “Is that intern still breathing?”

His eyes flickered to yours, a slow smile growing on his face. “Yes, actually.”

You fell into sync then, letting the awkward silence melt away as you joked about Wonwoo’s interns. He wasn’t meant to teach college students, god help them. But as your plates became empty and a server came around to take them, you two were left with only the mugs in your hands, strangely reminiscent of that apology coffee he bought for you so long ago.

Wonwoo sighed. “Hey, so about last night – or I guess, this morning …”

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you interjected, setting your coffee down. “I have a hangover, but I am thriving.”

He blinked. “Well, that’s good. But I was referring to –”

You almost couldn’t look at him when you said, “The fact that we’re definitely not just friends anymore?”

He chuckled. “Yeah, that part.”

“I …” You licked your lips as you gathered yourself. There was this … terrifying flutter in your chest. You’d never felt something like this before, but you weren’t keen on letting it go. Not yet. “I would like to see you again. Like that. Definitely not during work hours. If you catch my drift. This is awkward.”

Wonwoo had to turn his head so you wouldn’t see him trying to hold in his laughter, but it was clear as day. You sighed loud and hit his arm, making him look at you once again as he snickered to himself. “You know, you could just ask me if I want to hang out.”

You leveled a look at him and huffed. “Okay, Wonwoo, do you –”

“Yes,” he beamed. “Always, yes.”

You found yourself at Wonwoo’s side more often than not. What used to be work get togethers transitioned to meeting up at a bar, or checking a new restaurant on the weekends. Sometimes he’d ask you to come over so you could taste test a new recipe he found. (Unfortunately for both of you, Wonwoo wasn’t very good at cooking, but he was getting better. Somewhat.) Those recipe nights, however, always led to him lifting you up on his creaky kitchen counter and kissing you so hard that you almost forgot to breathe. Until Mingyu came into the kitchen, making a gagging sound, and you two instantly detached from each other.

Friday nights were known as Mingyu’s Movie Nights, and Wonwoo began inviting you to those. He had said that this would help knock a few movies off your Letterboxd Watchlist, but you knew that was just an excuse for wanting to see you. You probably saw him more than anyone now, but you couldn’t deny that you … wanted to see him too. Having him in your life made everything suddenly better. He was kind and smart and thoughtful. He made you laugh in ways you couldn’t explain, and obviously … he didn’t have to do much to make you want him. He’d simply have to look at you and you’d get on his lap. If Mingyu wasn’t there, of course.

Wonwoo seemed to blossomed with you. He was more excited to leave his apartment, more eager to become a better cook. He spoke up often, whether it be at work or out with you, rather than letting someone talk. He wanted to learn all the things that you liked, wanted to touch you exactly where you needed it, wanted to find new ways to leave you breathless. Because it was for you.

Even Mingyu noticed a difference in his friend. He’d known Wonwoo for so many years now, but he’d never made this much of a change for anyone. One night, when you and Mingyu were alone in the kitchen, he mentioned, “He’s different around you.” And then kept pouring wine in three glasses while Wonwoo picked a movie from the living room.

There were also times where Wonwoo was a booty call, of course, and neither of you had any problems with that. Some nights, Wonwoo would call you after Mingyu went to bed, begging you to come over, but ended up settling for phone sex. His attraction to you in stockings only went up, and it was difficult for him to contain his arousal at work when you strutted around just knowing how it affected him. There was days where all he wanted to do was pull you into a janitor closet and fuck the living daylights out of you. But it wasn’t like you’d let him anyway.

You had your fair share of desperate moments too. Especially tonight, as you were out drinking with your friends at a local spot you’d been coming to for years. The live band was loud and you’d had your fair share of shitty margaritas already. One of your friends was tugging on the arm of some rando she met on the dance floor, yelling over the music that she was leaving and she’d text you when she was home safe. That left you shit out of luck for a ride home, and suddenly very lonely. The last thing you wanted was to drink alone at a shitty bar on a Saturday night.

Wandering outside, your heeled boots crunched in the snow as you looked for the nearest Uber. The fastest one around would take over 20 minutes to get to you, and as you looked around the empty city streets … wait, didn’t Wonwoo live around here? Maybe all the tequila was just getting to you. But you called him anyway, and despite the time reaching 1 AM, he answered instantly. He heard the slight lisp in your voice, and once he got out of you exactly where you were, he realized you were right. It only took him about 10 minutes to get to where you were, parking on the side of the road. 

He sighed at the sight of you sitting on the curb, shivering and hugging your jacket around you. Various drunk people filtered in and out of the bar, but none of them checked on you – a freezing girl just sitting on the side of the road. “Why didn’t you wait inside for me?” He asked, his breath hot against your cheek when he pulled you up in his arms. Your dress rode up a little, and his hands were quick to yank it back down. “It’s the middle of winter.”

“I jusssst thought … the cold air would sssssober me up,” you slurred, letting him place you in his passenger seat before running back over to the driver’s side. His car was warm, making you bury yourself in your jacket, but his hand on your thigh was even warmer somehow. If your fingers weren’t so cold, you’d wrap your hand around his wrist, inching his palm up higher as he drove.

Once he was parked, he wasted no time getting you out and helping you up the stairs to his apartment. Mingyu was passed out on the couch, an old movie from the 80s playing on the TV, but you could hardly register it because your brain was spinning and Wonwoo was practically dragging you to his bedroom. He was grateful that all the lights were off so you couldn’t see how messy it was, but honestly, it was a miracle if you could see anything clearly right now.

He sat you down on the bed and you looked up at him with bleary eyes, which made you so fucking hard to resist. All the tequila you drank was pumping through your bloodstream, and you couldn’t help but fist your hands in his t-shirt and try to kiss him. He evaded your lips though – no matter how much he wanted to – and you whined, “Whyyyyyy won’t you kiss me?”

“Shhh …” He whispered, yanking off your boots. “Inside voice. Mingyu’s sleeping.”

You smacked your hands against his mattress. “He’s sleeping in the living room!”

Wonwoo got back to his feet, gesturing as he instructed, “Arms up.” You were too intoxicated to do anything but oblige, lifting your arms as he struggled to pull your dress over your head. Once it was off and thrown to the side with your boots, your hazy vision caught him looking through his drawers for clothes for you to wear. But didn’t he just take your clothes off? You could’ve sworn he did that because he wanted you too right now.

You protested when he tried putting you in one of his simple white tees, but your body felt too limp to fight. He slipped the shirt over your head before pulling back his comforter and wrapping you in it. With your eyes half open, you watched him come to the other side of the bed, yanking his pants down and crawling in bed beside you. He reached over you and set his glasses on the side table. You sighed dramatically. Now he was just torturing you. Wonwoo simply chuckled to himself, realizing what you were angry about.

His arms instantly wound around you, his lips pulled into a smile at your hairline. You looked up at him with a scowl and your voice slurred, “Whysss your eyes closed?”

Wonwoo snickered under his breath. “Because it’s late and I’m tired.” His hand on your lower back traced circles, attempting to coax you to sleep.

“I thought you wanted meeeee,” you complained. Your hand reached in between you two, smoothing your palm against his groin as he slowly started to harden under your touch. You heard his breath hitch slightly, so you kept going, a soft ache beginning between your own legs at just the thought of putting him in your mouth. 

“Sweetheart, I always want you.” He then grabbed your wrist, moving your hand away from him, and then lacing your fingers together. Pressing a kiss to the side of your forehead, he sighed sleepily, “But you’re much sexier when you’re sober.”

You started to realize why you didn’t usually do this, why it had been so long since you let someone see every part of you. What you looked like completely stripped down – both inside and out – completely vulnerable for your person. How your face contorted during pleasure, and how it relaxed when you were taken care of.

Catching feelings like this meant giving up control.

You didn’t work on the weekends unless you had to, and when the Boss sent you a high priority email on Saturday morning, you didn’t hesitate. He had transferred over a bunch of sensitive files that were needed for a board presentation first thing Monday morning. But of course, something just had to go wrong: the files were corrupted and you had no way of figuring out what to do. And it wasn’t like your boss was on call like you were on a Saturday.

This was how you ended up at Wonwoo’s apartment.

You had called him in a panic, explaining what had went wrong, but he didn’t seem too fazed. He was used to your tech emergencies by now. But by the time you got to his apartment, out of breath after running from the train station, he had realized just how serious you were taking this. You both sat down on his couch and you let him work his magic. His fingers moved across the keys as if he were a musician, and you couldn’t stop biting your nail nervously.

Mingyu came back to the apartment after grocery shopping, waving at you before putting all the food away. Seeing as you were here, maybe they could all go out and have fun tonight. He went into the living room, ready to mention a band that was playing at a local venue later, but upon seeing the stressed look on both your faces, he exhaled. “It’s a Saturday,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Why do you two look like that?”

“Corrupted documents,” Wonwoo answered quickly, not even looking up from the monitor. 

“I don’t even want to know more,” he said, grabbing his leather jacket from the coat rack and tugging his arms through the sleeves. “Just your faces are making me anxious. I’m heading out. Don’t wait up.”

You gave Mingyu a wave as he left, but Wonwoo was too focused to even say goodbye. It took about another hour and one cup of coffee, but Wonwoo eventually figured out how to uncorrupt the files. You let out a sigh of relief as he handed the laptop back to you and you were able to open each of them without issue. Thank god, you had managed to figure this out before Monday morning. And … having Wonwoo wasn’t too bad either.

“Thank you,” you beamed, not being able to resist pinching his cheek. “My hero.”

Silence engulfed the room as you both noticed how the sky was already getting dark. You cleared your throat, slipping your laptop back into your bag and muttering, “Thanks again. I know I kind of barged in and wasted your Saturday afternoon –”

Like the saint he was, Wonwoo simply smiled at you. “No time with you is a waste.”

Whatever words you were about to say clogged in your throat. You swallowed hard, attempting to hide your fluster, but you ended up choking out, “I … should go.”

“You don’t have to.” He stood from the couch, walking over to you and running his hands down your arms. His brow lifted. “Do you want to?”

You let the strap of your bag fall to the floor as your hands cupped his neck. “No, not particularly.”

Wonwoo chuckled, leaning in and letting his lips just lightly graze yours. “We have the place to ourselves,” he hummed, slowly dragging you backwards with him. “Mingyu’s gone … probably won’t be back until midnight.”

You bit your lip to suppress a giggle, letting him lead you to his room, as limp as a rag doll. Once he shut his bedroom door behind you, he flicked the light on. You pressed your back against the door and your eyes roamed around the space. This was the first time you saw his bedroom with the light on; every other time had been pitch black. You liked that his walls weren’t bare – they were filled with posters of his favorite musicians or photographs. On his desk was a large monitor and a gaming set up, but also a camera with stacks of film next to it. His furniture was old – probably from the 90s, probably passed down from his family – but the scratches within the wood told a story. And unlike most men, his sheets were gray.

Wonwoo realized you were scanning his room, and he became acutely aware of the clothes scattered amongst his floor. He muttered something to himself, beginning to pick up the clothes piles and chuck them into his hamper. “Sorry,” he murmured. “I wish I inherited the organized gene like Mingyu.”

You tilted your head, striding over and pulling him up, making him halt his actions. Your hands went to his face as you brought him closer. With a smile, you whispered, “I don’t want to talk about Mingyu,” before pressing your lips to his.

The kiss became deep far too quickly, or maybe time was passing faster than usual. Your lips crashed so hard against his that they’d bruise. He took off his glasses, setting them on his drawer, before his fingers hooked into the belt loops of your jeans. You stepped forward, making him step back, then another, and another – until you had him falling back on his bed. You straddled him, arching your back so you could lick into his mouth just how he liked. Hands sliding up his shirt, you felt his abdomen flex underneath you. His fingers in your belt loops jerked you closer, pressing your hips to his, and it wasn’t long before he was moaning into the kiss.

You smiled against his mouth, dragging your lips down his neck, and then even further, as you slinked down his body. Your eyes were trained on his, and he was trying his best not to look like a complete idiot in front of you. But it was difficult when you were looking at him with those eyes and – oh, now you were pulling down the waistband of his sweatpants, practically salivating when you noticed how hard he was already.

But … this was what you guys always did. Not that he had an issue with you giving him blow jobs, but none of this felt particularly intimate. You never really let him worship you; you took control of the entire situation. As if you were bringing your professional stubbornness to the bedroom.

“Wait,” he choked out as you palmed his growing bulge. “Can we … can we try something different?”

Your brows furrowed and you continued pressing sloppy kisses above his groin. “Why would we do that?”

Wonwoo let out a frustrated sound, and before you could prepare yourself, he was yanking his pants back up and pinning you underneath him. You blinked up at him in surprise, and he was gripping your wrists above your head now, his bodyweight pressing you into the mattress. He almost looked shocked that he had the strength to push you back, but his blown-out pupils gave away his true desire.

“What was that for?” You asked incredulously. Nerves clouded your thoughts, making you stutter. “I thought … I thought you liked …”

“No, trust me, I do,” he assured you, and then tipped his head as he gazed down at you. “I just … why won’t you let me take care of you?”

You scoffed then, trying to cover up how petrifying this conversation was becoming. Were you that transparent now, or did he simply know you far too well for your own good?

“I have no idea what you’re –”

Wonwoo gave you one of his infamous leveled looks, and you sighed. “You’re in constant need of seeking control when it’s always at your fingertips. It’s okay to let it go; it won’t slip away.” He let go of your wrists then, but kept his body hovering over yours, holding himself up by his elbows resting near your head. “Please, just … surrender it for once. Let me take the lead.”

You glanced down at your hands on your chest, twiddling your thumbs. Eventually, you murmured, “It’s hard. I’ve never done that before.”

“Can we try? I like …” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, then let his head fall as he chuckled to himself. “This is so awkward. I just – I like prioritizing your pleasure. It feels much better for me and I think it will for you too. And if you don’t like it –”

“I’m not good with change,” you blurted.

“I know,” he whispered, his voice taking on that husky tone that made warmth pool in your stomach. His eyes flickered to your lips now, noticing how swollen they still were. “I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. It was just a suggestion, and I probably ruined the mood.”

You shook your head immediately, allowing your fingers to tenderly sweep over his shirt. “No, I …” A voice in the back of your head told you this was a good thing, and you did want this, but the fear of change was overwhelming. You wanted to step out of your comfort zone, desperately, for once. You were allowed to do this; you were allowed to be happy. 

Your gaze met his again. “I want to try.”

His eyes softened with affection, but then he asked, “You’re not just agreeing for my sake, right?”

“Now when have I ever done that?” You laughed, making him smile along with you. 

But as soon as his mouth met yours, that awkward, giggling persona seemed to melt away. Jeon Wonwoo morphed into an entirely different person, someone that possessed your jaw in his large hand, pulling at your bottom lip before kissing you harder. It was enough to leave you gasping for air once he pulled away, spit connecting you two, and he continued to suck and nip his way down your throat. He made sure to leave marks in places that could be covered up for work, but he’d know exactly where they were. God, would he even be able to control himself at his desk, knowing where his bites were hiding under your clothes? 

Tugging your sweater over your head, he practically whined at the sight of your breasts, constricted in the bra that you told him was too old once, but you kept wearing it anyway because he said it was cute. He lifted you for a moment, expertly removing it with one hand, before licking the valley between your breasts. You arched into him, sighing into your arm when he swirled his tongue around your taut nipple. He glanced up and realized you were hiding your face, so he pushed your hand off. “I want you to look at me while I do this,” he cooed, but it sounded more like a demand.

Despite the embarrassment, you did as he asked, feeling completely bewitched as you watched him cup the swell of your breast, tugging on your nipple. This felt like a goddamn Pornhub video. You two have had sex before, yes, but not like this. Never like this. Wonwoo had always let you do what you were comfortable with, keeping his other side at bay while you rode him hard on the couch. But this … this felt like something else entirely. The way he was lavishing both your nipples, coating them with his spit, demanding you to watch … Expletives filtered softly from your mouth, wetness gathering between your thighs. It suddenly felt too hot and your jeans were still on.

Wonwoo was taking his time with you though, and it was very clear to you that this wouldn’t just be one of those nights where you had sex for 10 minutes before ordering pizza. When he lifted his mouth from your left nipple, he asked calmly, “Do you like this or do you want more?”

You sneered, “Well, of course, I like –”

His hand came up instantly to pinch your other nipple, and you couldn’t stop the whimper that came out of your mouth. “No teasing,” he said, lowering his head to flick that nipple with his tongue. “Just answer me.”

“More,” you choked out, your hips arching off the bed, seeking friction. “Please, more.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss between your breasts once again, before lowering himself down your body. His eyes never left yours as he dragged his lips down your stomach. Eventually, he had to stand from the bed so he could finally unzip your pants, tugging when they got stuck around your ankles. When the cold air hit between your legs, you realized how soaked you were already. Wonwoo smirked to himself, slowly rolling your panties down your legs.

“Don’t let it get to your head,” you joked, kicking your panties off into a pile by his bed. 

He lifted your ankle, nipping playfully, and replied, “Told you that you’d like me taking the lead.”

You rolled your eyes as he settled between your thighs, bending your knees back so your feet rested beside his head. You bit your lip as he placed sloppy kisses on your inner thigh, biting hard enough to make a bruise. Wonwoo fought hard to maintain a sense of composure, but god, the sight of your pretty pussy oozing slick made him wonder if he could cum untouched. You had let him finger you before, but had never been in the mood for this. And this was something Wonwoo had been fantasizing about since the day he noticed that tear in your stockings. He could jump for joy if that didn’t make him look like an absolute fucking loser.

He pushed your folds apart with two fingers, running a hand down his face as he attempted to school his expression. It was just so fucking hard to act cool when you were this aroused. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip. You reached out and brushed his hair back from his forehead, deciding to quip, “Wonwoo, can you even find the clit without your glasses on –”

Without warning, he spit on your pussy and buried his face between your thighs. The words died on your tongue immediately, and you let out the loudest whine he’d ever heard in his life. He smiled, but that didn’t deter him from circling his tongue around your clit. He wound one of his arms around your thigh, holding you in place as he pressed his face further.

Wrapping his lips around your clit, he sucked and drew out the prettiest sounds from you, using his free hand to slip two fingers inside you. You tasted exactly like he dreamed about, sweet and tangy and so unmistakably you. He looked up at you from between your legs, curling his fingers in the spot that made tears prick at your eyes, and when your gaze found his, it was like something in him snapped. “Fuck,” he muttered, his voice muffled, feasting at you like he’d been starved for days. 

Your fingers were in his hair now, pressing his head more into you, which only made this more enjoyable for him. He nearly came in his pants when your hips began to buck against his face, but this was about you. And him experiencing you cumming on his face. But mostly you. His fingers pumped faster inside you and his tongue was now flicking your clit, allowing more of your arousal to invade his mouth. He’d never get tired of this taste; he was obsessed. Now that he finally got a taste of you … he never wanted to not be doing this. Never wanted his face too far from the apex of your legs. Not when you had the sweetest taste that could move heaven and earth between these thighs.

And when you finally came on his tongue, he noticed that your legs shook like an earthquake. Your essence flooded his mouth, and he moaned – god, did he moan – lapping at you, never missing a drop of what you gave him. His fingers kept curling inside of you, making your orgasm feel like forever. When he finally removed them with a wet pop, he didn’t miss the opportunity to have more of you, wrapping his mouth around those two fingers and licking off the last of your release. You watched him, completely mesmerized by the way he savored you, even darting his tongue out to capture the whatever seeped out of you. Your hips jolted, suddenly so sensitive, and he grinned up at you.

You hardly caught your breath before he crawling up your body, kissing you hard and letting you taste yourself on his tongue. Your hands fisted in his t-shirt, and when you ripped your lips away from his, you arched a brow. “You are still fully clothed,” you reminded, and then swiped at the spit lining his bottom lip.

Wonwoo simply smiled, ghosting his lips over yours before trailing them to your ear. “I’m getting to that part. Patience,” he whispered, nibbling on your earlobe. “You must really want me inside you.”

“I want to not be the only one naked.”

“Say it,” he prodded in a weirdly casual tone.

“What?”

“Say you want me inside you.”

“This is ridiculous –”

He lifted his head from your jawline. “I can easily leave this room and order a pizza,” he teased, and you blinked at him. He was actually being serious. He would completely ignore what looked like a throbbing erection in his pants, just to make a point. You knew he wasn’t trying to be mean; he wanted to get you out of your comfort zone. This was so stupid, because you did want him inside you. Embarrassingly so. He had just given you one of the best orgasms of your life, but you still had this … aching need to be filled. Your cheeks heated just at the thought of it.

“I …” Your eyes closed for a moment, trying not to make your whole face turn bright red. With a sigh, your eyes connected again, and you answered, “I want you inside me, Wonwoo.”

He rewarded you with a kiss, pulling away before it could get too heated again, and stood from the bed. “Well, when you ask nicely …” He smiled, that dominating demeanor slipping for a moment as he pulled his shirt off. You’d never get tired of the way Wonwoo looked without a shirt. He didn’t let anyone see it very often – he wasn’t like his roommate – but the moments he did, you felt eternally grateful. His torso was toned, with defined abs and pecks that made your mind boggle. You liked that his arms were long and muscled; his hands large and slightly calloused. 

You liked everything about him.

When he finally went to kick off his sweatpants, he noticed a large precum stain on the gray fabric from just eating you out. Which was probably the biggest jab to his calm and collected attitude right now, but he didn’t let it slip. He simply threw the sweatpants to the side, coming up close to the bed again, where your legs were now hanging off the edge. You gazed up at him as if he held the world in his palms, watching the way he reached into his boxers and pulled out his cock. Your eyes widened at the sight, never used to the size. He was slightly thicker than average, but long. Longer than you ever expected. With a pretty pink head leaking sticky precum.

It was killing you how long he was taking. Your legs shifted, ready to make a move to yank him underneath you, but he was faster than you. He pinned your wrists about your head with one hand this time, using his other to keep a firm grip on his cock. “You want to be in control that badly, huh?” He asked, tilting his head.

His hand was moving up and down his shaft now, letting precum dribble on your stomach. Your eyes flickered from his cock back to his eyes. “I just … I need you, Wonwoo,” you begged, your voice taking on a new tone. And somehow … wanting him so bad like this was ten times more arousing than riding him on the couch. “Please, please, Wonwoo. Please, fuck me.”

Your pleas had him falling apart, and he sighed, letting go of your wrists to discard his boxers too. His cock flopped against his stomach, hard and aching and – fuck, had he always been veiny? He got on top of you again, cooing against your lips, “I know, baby, I know.” His rubbed the underside of his length against your wet folds, moaning at the slightest bit of friction. “I’ll fuck you real good. I promise.”

Pressing the head of his cock at your entrance, his breath hitched at just the feeling of your arousal coating his shaft. You both had never taken your time with sex. But he was doing that tonight now that he was in control, letting himself slowly push inside you, feel you completely stretch open for him. You mewled, slinking your arms around his neck and carding your fingers at the nape. And when he finally buried himself to the hilt, his lips fell open and he groaned. You felt so good he could cum right now, but he needed to get a grip. The last thing he needed was to cum too fast.

Not that you would like him any less if he did.

“Wonwoo,” you cried, your hips arching up to meet his. “Please.”

Your voice snapped him out of whatever trance-like state he was in. He settled more on top of you, resting his elbows on both sides of your head, and pulled all the way out so only the tip remained. You whined at the emptiness, which soon changed to a gasp when he bullied his cock back in. Your fingers tugged at his hair; your legs crossed around his waist, drawing him deeper inside. “Fuck,” he muttered, still feeling how tight you were, how you molded yourself for him. “So fucking … god, so wet.”

His restraint could only last so long. He’d gotten his fill of feeling you adjust around him. He couldn’t take this anymore, or he was going to cum before you both had even started. With a deep breath, he set a brutal pace inside of you, his hips snapping forward. Tears rolled down your cheeks; how could something feel so good that you cried? Wonwoo seemed to be thinking the same thing, because he was burying his face in the crook of your neck and groaning, “God, so good … you feel so good … how can anyone feel this good?”

The only word you could choke out was, “Ditto,” which you’d regret for hours after this. But now was not the time.

He was fucking into you so hard that you were already sore, but you were holding onto him for dear life, clinging to him as that warmth burned in your gut. The way his cock curved and grazed your g-spot perfectly, making you tremble and whimper his name like a prayer. He placed a hand on your stomach, feeling how deep his cock nestled inside you, and you noticed him shiver in your arms. He was trying desperately to fight off his release. That coil in your gut began to tighten, and from the way Wonwoo was breathing, you knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. He wanted you to cum first though – like always – wanted to feel you clamp around him, squeeze him so tight that he saw white. 

So he did what he did best: reached in between your bodies, finding your swollen, sensitive clit so easily, and rubbed slow circles. He lifted his head from your neck, wanting to see that familiar look in your eyes when you saw stars. “Are you gonna cum for me?” His voice was so deep that it reverberated against your chest.

And finally, as he pressed his thumb down hard and pushed into you just right, you felt your orgasm crest. “Fuck, Wonwoo,” you sobbed, body shaking as you came undone. 

But Wonwoo wasn’t stopping. He kept fucking into you, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. And when your walls squeezed him so tight, he buried himself completely and came hard, a generous amount of fucks leaving his lips. His cheek pressed against yours; his groans muffled by the comforter. You held him close as he filled you to the brink with his release, and it almost felt like hours before he realized he finished. 

You exhaled together, allowing your heart rates to settle. He turned his head slightly, pressing a kiss to your cheek, and then to your nose, and now he was kissing all over your face. Your cheeks instantly tinged pink, but you let him do as he pleased. He didn’t even make a move off you, letting his cock soften inside your warmth. When your eyes opened, he was staring down at you like you were the sun. You searched his eyes, “What?”

His dark gaze flickered to your lips for a moment, and then he asked, “Did you really say, ‘Ditto,’ during sex?”

You and Wonwoo had gotten into a routine. Of course, you saw him 5 days out of the week at work, but you wanted more of him. You figured out Mingyu’s schedule, coming over most nights when he wasn’t home – besides Mingyu’s Movie Nights. You would let Wonwoo cook for you, and he promised he was getting better, before he led you to his room with kisses to your neck and a firm grip on your hand. 

He always went with whatever you were comfortable with, but you found yourself letting him take the lead more often than not. You liked letting him prioritize you; you liked being selfish with him. Giving up control felt … much better than anticipated. Everything about this felt too good to be true. But you couldn’t help yourself, and you didn’t want to spoil it by asking him the dreaded, “What are we?” For now, you’d exist in your safe little bubble, where he would smile at you at work and then fuck your brains out after hours. It felt perfect, simple.

You approached sex through a different lens now. Instead of simply riding him on that godforsaken old couch, you let him go at his own pace: placing you on his lap, having his way with you and making you cum at least 3 times before he sunk you down on his cock, bouncing you up and down as you clung to him, practically letting him use you as a flesh light. Even when he let you sit on his face, it was on his terms: his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave a mark, trying to suffocate himself with your pussy, not allowing you to cum until he said so, no matter how much you needed to. But it felt too good to stop. You didn’t want this to stop. You liked the lack of control, liked the way he took care of you. The way he bent your knees back as he slid into you, keeping eye contact, so you’d feel him that much deeper … the way he could feast on you for hours, never getting enough of your taste … there was something about it that made you feel more than beautiful. 

Especially when he looked at you as if you were his world.

Especially when he fucked into you and you realized you might be in love with him.

You tended to get lost in thought while laying in bed on an early morning. The birds chirped outside, your phone chimed along with each new notification. Curling underneath your comforter, you held your pounding head, reminiscing on last Sunday. You had gone over Wonwoo’s apartment and he had surprised you with a spaghetti dinner. Mingyu promised that it was “more edible than usual” before he left you two alone in the apartment.

You had noticed the shine in Wonwoo’s eyes, how excited he was to do this for you. He had never bothered to learn anything for anyone, but all he wanted to do was please you. To make you happy. And you could see that in the way he gazed at you, making your stomach do flip flops. Letting him have all this control over you, letting him see past the fortress you’d kept up for who knows how long … it was scary and exhilarating all at the same time.

He taught you how to play his favorite video game after dinner, placing you in between his legs on the couch and letting you lean back against his broad chest. His arms cocooned around you, nestling your body in his embrace. Sometimes he would nibble on your ear as you fought to maintain hand-eye coordination with the controller. Eventually, you had given up and asked to watch him, but that led to his hand dropping the controller as the enemy killed him off. And then his fingers were slowly slipping down the waistband of your leggings, rubbing your slit over your panties. You had arched into him, your ass pressing against his hardening erection as he pulled your panties to the side, already finding you wet and ready for his touch. He chuckled in your ear, “How long have you been thinking about this?” His index finger rubbed tight circles on your clit, and all that you could formulate for a response was a moan as he –

You cut yourself off from the memory before it could end you.

Your stomach churned. Despite your better judgement, you had completely fallen head-over-heels for senior IT specialist, Jeon Wonwoo, and that was terrifying. He had seen your personality unfold, seen the most vulnerable parts of you. But nothing was more scary than admitting to yourself how much you liked him, maybe even loved. You were frantic to the point of exhaustion, so stressed that you felt sick. Soon you were shivering, your head pounding as a fever came on, and you stayed home from work for a few days. Your phone notifications be damned – you stayed in your bedroom with the blinds closed, sleeping the days away.

Every so often, you would hear your phone chime. Your phone screen would light up with another text message. But … you couldn’t bring yourself to answer him. This behavior was illogical and stupid; you just simply couldn’t help yourself. You were an avoidant. The only thing you knew how to do was slowly push him away before he saw all the layers underneath your carefully crafted facade.

What if he finally saw how anxious you were all the time?

What if he knew how you secretly craved to be loved your entire life, but you looked for it elsewhere, in places like workplace praise or crowded bars where you couldn’t see another person’s face?

What if he knew you weren’t as organized up in your head as you were at your desk?

Or worse … what if he didn’t like you back?

TUESDAY, APRIL 22

Wonwoo: What’s going on?

Wonwoo: I managed to find out that you’re sick. I can make you soup, if you want? I know my cooking is terrible. But what if this time it’s good and it cures you?

Wonwoo: If I threaten to message you on Slack, will that make you reply?

Wonwoo: I promise I won’t. Unless … lol

Wonwoo: You’re not dead, right?

Wonwoo: Please, answer me.

FRIDAY, APRIL 25

UNKNOWN: hey, it’s Mingyu. I found your number in Wonwoo’s phone. he’s really messed up right now and worrying about you.

UNKNOWN: idk what’s going on between you two, but I don’t like seeing him like this.

UNKNOWN: just … call him. or text him. or something.

Jeon Wonwoo [10:13 AM]: Did your computer die and you need a new charger?

Jeon Wonwoo [3:21 PM]: I miss you.

When you finally returned to work, it’s on a day that your cubicle mate had decided to work from home. You couldn’t decide if that was a blessing or curse until the next day, when you wished that he decided to work from home forever. It was on a Tuesday morning that you finally faced him again, locking eyes with him from across the boardroom table in an all-hands meeting. You weren’t sure what to say, weren’t sure what you could say, but … he didn’t speak to you any way. In fact, even when you both got back to your desks, he kept quiet, throwing on his headphones and focusing on whatever task was at hand. His attitude change wasn’t exactly surprising, but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak to him either.

All your other coworkers looked bewildered. The silence between you two made just about everyone feel awkward. They all saw how close you and Wonwoo had become, and now everything just felt … flat. Silent. Empty. It was like you two were strangers. Maybe you had never really known each other in the first place, if you could both discard each other so easily. 

But that just seemed too good to be true. You thought about him everyday, despite yourself, and he had to think of you too. You caught his eyes on you every once in a while, and you couldn’t help but yearn for him in silence. It was probably time for you to take charge again and make the first move, but you found yourself hesitating. Again. You were overwhelmed with thoughts of rejection. 

This was why you never gave up control with someone before. It left you suddenly so, so doubtful.

You [1:34 PM]: I can’t get into my Outlook. I think I’ve locked myself out 

Jeon Wonwoo is now offline.

You [1:36 PM]: I miss you too

It was a busy Sunday, the first notes of Spring evident in the air. You needed to go to the post office today, the supermarket, probably check in on your parents … but that was all discarded when you made the sudden decision to take a taxi to Wonwoo’s apartment. Your hands were shaking more than his when he first touched you. Your leg was bouncing with anxiety, and when the taxi finally pulled up to his building, you considered never getting out. 

But you couldn’t continue being a coward. Besides, this driver had places to be, with the way he was arguing for you to pay in cash.

You were lucky enough to slide in through the building’s entrance while someone was walking out. The less you had to embarrass yourself by calling Mingyu to let you in, the better. The walk up those two flights of stairs was long and tiring, and it wasn’t because you always hated them. You physically couldn’t make yourself go faster, too frightened of what he was going to say when he saw you. Maybe he wouldn’t say anything; maybe he’d slam the door in your face. And you couldn’t blame him, because now you were at his door and – oh, god, you wanted to hurl.

The door was opening before you could even catch your breath. When you caught that first glimpse of Mingyu, you realized how much of a mistake this was. You could always turn back, run down the stairs before anyone could say a word.

But as soon as you both locked eyes, Mingyu raised his brow, but not in a mocking sense. It was as if … he expected you to be here. He sighed, leaning against the door, and without looking back, he called out, “Wonwoo! You got a visitor.”

Your eyes went wide, and then Mingyu was pushing past you, leaving the door open and muttering, “Good luck.” He was rushing down the stairs two at a time before you could even say a word back. But then you were seeing him, and you wondered if it had always been this hard to breathe around him.

Your fingers played absentmindedly as you both stared at each other. His glasses were slipping down his nose, but he made no move to fix them. His own hand was too busy dropping the controller that had been in his grip, now clattering to the floor. His hair was messed up and he was wearing his favorite comfy sweatsuit, and you … you were put together, as always. Your hair unwashed, but pulled up in a ponytail, and wearing that cardigan he liked so much on you. If he wasn’t so hurt, just the sight of you would have him on his knees right now, begging to have you.

He had to turn around and walk away. If he didn’t right now, he’d just –

“Wait,” you said, walking in and closing the door when he spun away. “Please, don’t. I –”

“What could you possibly say?” He snapped, facing you once again. You had never heard his voice at this octave before, never seen so much distress on his face. “I thought we knew each other well enough that you wouldn’t cut me off out of nowhere. As if I’m just some guy you met at a bar last weekend.”

Your mouth opened, and then closed. 

“Do you … do you even understand how worried I was about you?” He ran a hand through his hair, voice cracking for the first time in forever. You took a step closer to him. “You weren’t answering me and I just … my head went to the worst. I thought Mingyu was gonna kill me the next time I mentioned your name. And then, to see you at work and realizing that you were actually just ghosting me was a fucking punch to the gut. I didn’t get it. I still don’t get it. But I’m so pissed at you for hurting my feelings that I’m not even sure if I wanna know.”

“Wonwoo –” You started.

“Please, don’t say my name like that,” he sighed and pinched his nose. “I realize that you came all this way to finally break the news to me, but I’m good. It’s very obvious to me now that you don’t like me as much as I like you, and to save us the pity party, let me get you home –” He reached for his wallet to grab some cash for your next taxi.

But you interrupted before he could finish.

“I love you.”

He paused, looking up and making sure he heard you right. “What?”

“I’m in love with you,” you said it again, and it felt so freeing to have this weight lifted off your shoulders. You moved closer, now standing a foot away, but refusing to touch him for your own good. “And I’m not just telling you that as an excuse. Ignoring you was cruel and I can never forgive myself for hurting you. I just … when I realized how deep my feelings for you were …” Your throat closed up, as if your body was acting on instinct, preventing you from being vulnerable with him.

Wonwoo closed the distance. “Hey,” he whispered, tucking a hair behind your ear. “I’m right here with you.”

His voice was so reassuring – as always – opening you up like a blooming flower. And suddenly, your mouth didn’t feel so dry anymore and your nails stopped making crescent-shaped indents in your palm.

“I got scared,” you confessed, your gaze locked on his. “And I ran away, because that was the easiest thing to do. I thought ignoring you would be best for both of us, and I stubbornly didn’t want to hear your opinion on any of this. What I did was wrong and I … I hate myself when I do stuff like this to people I care about.”

Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes, but he wiped them with his thumb before they could fall. You sniffled, noticing the hurt in his eyes had faded, replaced only by adoration. Your lips pursed as you searched his gaze.

“I’ve just … never allowed anyone to open me up like this. I’ve never given my feelings to someone and let them care for me.” You blinked, your eyes rimmed red. “I’ve hardly been able to comprehend my own feelings because I’ve been scared shitless of them in the first place. But I can’t … I can’t justify pushing you away anymore. Because I love you. I don’t like being alone anymore and all I ever want to do is see you. Sometimes I’m afraid if I stop holding you, you’ll disappear. You do so much for me; you literally fix something on my computer everyday. I think if I let you go right now, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life, and I –”

Wonwoo cut you off by pressing his lips to yours. You couldn’t remember the last time he kissed you like this: so gently with his palm cupping your jaw. You felt yourself relax when he slipped an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His tongue licked into your mouth, sighing with relief when the familiar taste of you entered his orbit again. The taste of coffee and peppermint gum and the peanut butter and jelly you definitely had for lunch today. It was everything he loved about you, and he smiled into the kiss.

When he finally pulled away, he said, “Sorry, I interrupted your monologue.”

“It’s okay. Someone needed to before I got into the Hamlet soliloquy I prepared.”

He chuckled, grinning from ear to ear, and just that had a blush creeping to your cheeks. “I forgive you,” he whispered, leaning back in to ghost his lips all over your face. Your warm breath fanned his mouth. “Just don’t do that again. I know I don’t show it very often, but I’m secretly very …” He smiled softer this time, pecking just slightly on the corner of your mouth. “Sensitive.”

Your fingers hooked into the waistband of his sweatpants, wanting him all the more closer. “I know. I promise.” You brushed your nose over his. “If I ever ignore you for even a couple hours, you have full permission to annoy me on Slack.”

Wonwoo had to cover his mouth from letting out the loudest laugh possible, but it made you feel all the better to see him happy. You could spend forever seeing him this happy. You got up on your tiptoes just to stare at him more, to press yourself closer and feel his grin against your cheek.

But he was holding your face now, sighing down at you with a smile that almost made you swoon. “For the record,” he replied, “I love you too.” 

[selfcarecap]

Practice [L.H]

pairing: Logan Howlett x reader

summary: Your roommate Logan lets you practise giving a blowjob on him for your date with another guy.

warnings: smut, 18+, oral sex (f&m receiving, reader’s first time), Logan is a liittle mean but just a little and he gets softer towards the end, spitting,  jerking off, Logan keeps his socks on I think it’s hot okay 😭😭, Logan calls reader bub, baby, good girl, pretty girl; Wade is mentioned but I’m imagining a younger Logan than in DP&W

word count: 3.2k (this was supposed to be a drabble lol idk what happened)

“Who’s the lucky guy?” Logan asks from the sofa as you walk past him in your pretty date outfit. You’ve got some time left before your date but you decided to get ready early in a bout of nervousness.

“This guy I’ve been seeing,” you tell him, trying to seem nonchalant. You haven’t yet mentioned to Logan that you’ve been on a few dates. He spends a lot of time in his room, away from you and Wade, and he just never happened to be there to hear about your dates.

Logan mutes the tv. “What guy?”

“Met him online.”

“And he’s so good to you that you get this pretty for him?”

You smile at his indirect compliment and sit down next to him.

“Yeah, he’s nice. I… I think we might go a step further today,” you feel your cheeks heating up, “I’m kind of nervous.”

You see his jaw clench slightly, “If he’s a good guy he shouldn’t make you nervous.”

“I’m not nervous because of him, it’s just that it would be my first time. And I don’t want to be bad.”

He chuckles and leans back, “You won’t be bad. Just make him go on top.”

Logan isn’t taking your hint, so you take a deep breath to gather your courage. “What if he wants me to go down on him and I don’t know how to do it? Will you…” your voice falters as his eyes meet yours.

“Will you help me?” you stutter and Logan immediately begins to smirk. Embarrassment spreads through your body.

“Help you how?” He asks, smug.

It’s too late to go back now. “Well, I don’t know. Like, explain how it works or.. you could show me?” you shrug.

“You probably know better than me how to find porn online.”

“No, I mean show me on you.” That’s all the courage you can muster for the day and you wonder if you will even have the strength to look back into Logan’s eyes. He solves that problem for you, putting a finger under your chin and pushing it up so you’re looking at him.

“You wanna suck my cock?” He sounds annoyed and you immediately want to die.

“It wouldn’t have to mean anything,” you look at his cheeks, his nose, anywhere but his eyes, “I just wanna know if I’m doing it right. It’s okay if you can’t cum, I just want to practise.”

Logan scans your face for a sign of discomfort – other than your embarrassment – but he doesn’t find any. His features soften, “You really wanna go down on me, bub?”

You nod quickly, “For practice.”

“Mhm, for practice.” He’s mocking you, but all you can do is ignore it.

A thrill shoots through your body at his next words: “C’mere then.” He spreads his legs, clothed in jeans that strain around the thickness of his delicious thighs. You can see the outline of his abs through his tank top. You can’t believe this is happening – you’ve had a crush on him since you saw him for the first time.

Logan beckons you between his legs and you move to sit on the carpet, its fluffiness stopping your bare knees from hurting. Your short skirt rides up your ass and you pull it down self-consciously despite what you’re about to do.

“You sure about this, bub?” Logan asks again from above you. You gulp when you look up at him. How does he look even better from below?

“Yeah,” you assure him, your panties already growing wet. You sit down and try to patiently wait for instruction but you end up squirming. When you look back up at Logan he’s got one of his eyebrows raised.

“You don’t know how to open a belt either?”

“Well, yeah but don’t we have to–” your mouth starts to water when the rough clink of his belt interrupts you. He’s all but ripping open his belt; he unbuttons his jeans and takes out his hard cock. You almost get goosebumps.

“Oh,” you say.

“If a guy likes you, he doesn’t need any time to get ready. Foreplay is just to get the woman nice and wet,” Logan tells you, although you’re barely listening. All you know is that you wouldn’t need the foreplay either, you’re uncomfortably wet, trying to get friction against your legs that are folded underneath you.

Logan watches you stare at his erection, “Take your top off. I like seeing your pretty face but that’ll make it an even nicer view.”

“But I’m not wearing anything underneath,” you thumb at the thin straps of your top.

He smirks, “even better.” He reaches down to pull the top up by your waist but then hesitates.

You nod but Logan rolls his eyes. “Use your words.”

“You can take it off,” you say but you nevertheless put your arms in front of your tits when he pulls your top over your head. 

Logan chuckles, “Baby, I’ve been dying to see your tits since I first met you. You really think you gotta hide?” The nickname makes you melt and your arms immediately drop to your sides. 

You sit up straighter as Logan lets out a low moan, “God, look at you. So fucking perfect.” He reaches out to grope your tits almost clumsily. His cock bobs in front of you as he leans down to touch you and you feel yourself getting addicted to him already. You just want to start.

With a last rough squeeze of your tit, Logan leans back. “Wet your lips,” he instructs. You lick your lips.

“Wetter,” he says, and your eyebrows crease in confusion as you lick your lips again.

Logan huffs, spits into his hand, and smears his spit over your mouth, “There. Don’t you look fucking pretty like this.” You just about purr against his hand and then push against it with your cheek.

You place your hands on either of his knees and lean in to kiss the tip of his cock, all swollen and ready. You immediately feel the urge to go further but your shyness takes over, so you keep pressing wet kisses to his length.

“God,” Logan groans, leaning his head back in pleasure as you keep kissing, and you start to use some more spit.

“Look at you, don’t even need me to tell you what to do,” he pulls his arms behind his head smugly, like an asshole, and you smile, getting shy again. You kiss along the underside of his cock some more, getting more desperate with every second.

“What now?” You ask. 

Logan softly smiles at you for a second, pulling his jeans and boxers further down his thighs. You pull them off completely as he pulls off his top. He’s naked in front of you now, except for his socks, and you take a second to appreciate all the broadness and his muscles. The hair from his chest all the way over his abs and down to his cock is begging for you to kiss every inch of it but you force yourself to focus.

Logan takes his cock in his hand to lift it out of the way, and slowly starts to jerk off. His eyes go to you and then to his balls, and you get what he wants you to do. Still, he gives you one word: “Lick.”

You move forward, inhaling all his manly smell, instinctively going to press another wet kiss to his cock. You let spit pool in your mouth and begin to lick all over his balls, feeling the heaviness of them on your tongue.

“Take as much as you can, baby,” he rasps, continuing to jerk off. You almost slap his hand away – you want to be the one making him feel good – but you stop yourself.

You do as he tells you, opening your mouth to cover as much of him as you can, the warmth of his balls against your tongue making you drool.

“Yeah, baby, juuust like that. That’s a good girl,” he breathes heavily.

Your pussy clenches around nothing at his words, and you have to take a deep breath to focus on anything but the wet ache between your thighs.

His balls move against your tongue from his jerking off, and you gently suck on the skin, moving around a few inches every few seconds. But the movement from his hand on his cock is becoming distracting and, without thinking, you instinctively push his hand away. 

He stills and then smiles, lifting his hand away. He lightly leans his elbows on the back of the sofa to the sides of him. 

“You can start sucking my cock now if you’re ready, baby. Been doing such a good job.”

“I don’t know if I can take all of it,” you pout. Even just imagining his dick down your throat feels too much, though not in a bad way. He’s just so fucking big. 

“Just take as much as you can. I bet you can take more of me than you think.”

His words motivate you. You go up slightly on your knees, carefully wrapping your hand around his cock. You spit on it, letting it slowly slide down the sides as you begin to spread it with your hand. 

Logan huffs out a laugh from above you, “So adorable. You don’t need to be so careful. Here, do it like this.” He wraps his much bigger hand around yours and he starts to jerk off with your hand, showing you how rough you can be as he starts to fuck your fist. 

You clear your throat, “Can I use my mouth now?”

He bites his lip, “Ready when you are, baby. Just breathe through your nose and relax.” Oh, you’re relaxed. Being between Logan’s meaty thighs is the best you’ve felt in your life. 

You press another kiss to the tip of his cock and part your lips to take him in your mouth. The first second you feel the heaviness of his cock on your tongue is like heaven. Logan lets out a low moan and you look up to find his eyes already on your face. He looks like a god from below, his muscles starting to glisten with a thin layer of sweat.

Opening your mouth wider, you take more of him. You start to jerk him off where your mouth can’t reach but you do your best to go as deep as you can, moving up and down with your wet mouth.

The feeling of Logan’s cock in your mouth is addicting, and the quiet sounds he is making even more so. 

“Doin’ so good for me, baby,” he whispers, voice weak. You look up into his eyes as you suck his dick, spit starting to run down your hand, and a smirk spreads on Logan’s face.

“Such a pretty girl,” he leans his head back.

Your jaw is starting to strain because he’s so big but you never want to stop doing this. You swallow down the taste of his precum and can’t wait to actually make him come. He’s starting to pulse in your mouth, abs contracting with every time your tongue moves.

You’re wondering how much long–

“Y’gonna make me come, baby. Gonna come so hard,” Logan moans, and you figure he’s warning you but you want nothing more than his cum in your mouth.

You put in all the effort you can, sucking Logan’s cock further down your throat, cheeks hollowing. You start to feel him at the back of your throat, spit spilling from your lips.

Logan groans, and then he’s filling up your mouth, pumping his cum down your throat as you eagerly swallow. You look up at him through your lashes, taking in his face, his eyes shut and mouth hanging open in pleasure as a long, almost pathetic, groan comes out.

He’s coming longer than you’d expect, coming in your mouth in sticky ropes, a hand guiding the back of your head. You still pout when he’s finally drained and he slowly pulls his hips back.

Logan sighs a last breath of pleasure and holds his hand in front of your mouth. “What?” you ask.

“Spit.”

“Uh, I swallowed,” you say.

“Really?”

You stick out your tongue for Logan to see your empty mouth.

He smirks. “God,” he huffs, “so fucking perfect. C’mere.” He pulls you up to the sofa and sits you on his lap, your bare chest against his. Logan pushes his mouth against yours, kissing you like he’s filled with a new desire, as if you didn’t just make him come.

You don’t get to kiss him for very long though, because he pulls you to lie down on the sofa, turning so your legs are spread around him.

“‘m gonna show you what it’s supposed to feel like for someone to eat your pussy. Just so you know your date is doin’ it right, ‘kay?”

What date? You almost ask. You remember for a second but then, looking at him, all of your thoughts are replaced with Logan again. “Yes,” you nod hornily, “Please.”

“There you go, got you even saying please now. You want it that bad, huh?”

All you can do is nod as he pulls down your skirt and panties. He almost goes cross-eyed when he sees your pussy for the first time.

“God, baby, you coulda said something. Such an eager little thing. You got that wet from having my cock in your mouth, hm? Gonna make you come so good, yeah?”

You nod again and he bends down to press another sloppy kiss to your lips, kissing down your neck and stopping at your chest, “Can’t get enough of these,” he plays with your tits, desperately grabbing at them like a man seeing a woman naked for the first time.

He smiles up at you when he realises how much time he’s spent at your chest, pressing a last kiss to your sternum before placing one of his big hands on your tit and kissing further down. You assume he’s going to stop before he gets to your pussy, just to tease you, but he kisses all the way down from your belly button to your clit, starting to make out with your pussy.

“Logan,” you moan, your hand flying to his hand on one of your boobs.

“Feel good?” He asks, and you almost faint when you look at his head pushed between your thighs. He looks exactly right, as if this is where he was meant to be the entire time.

“Mhmm.”

He chuckles against your pussy, tongue darting out to play with your clit. The ache between your legs starts to get worse with him there, and you feel your pussy clenching around nothing.

Logan smirks and pushes your thighs further apart with a rough hand. He starts to gently rub your clit, and you’ve finally got the friction you’ve been needing this entire time. You’re already close. 

You let out an involuntary moan as he pushes his thick middle finger inside you, and you grip his hand on your tit harder, and he squeezes you there, lovingly. 

“I got you, baby,” he says into your pussy before starting to fuck you with his finger, pushing another one in as he begins to rub a sweet little spot inside that you can never reach yourself. 

He leans in to start licking your clit again, circling it with his tongue and, ever so slightly, beginning to suck. 

You’re so close, the waves of pleasure almost, just almost, flooding over you. You squirm, your knees pushing together, held open by his broad shoulders. 

Logan sucks harder, fingers fucking into you with your clit pulsing against his tongue. 

It only takes a few more seconds of Logan’s mouth on your pussy for you to come. Pleasure explodes within you and floods your entire body as you arch your back, pushing further into him and his wet mouth and thick fingers.

Logan doesn’t stop until you’re satisfied and your legs go numb around him.

He grins at you, biting his lip to stop his smile from spreading too far, and he presses a kiss to the middle of your belly, squeezing your tit gently before letting go. You feel cold without him there.

With your legs still around him, you instinctively pull him in and he lies down next to you on the sofa, gently caging you against the back of it to give you the more comfortable side as he balances on the edge.

“You wanna know how good you taste?” Logan asks, not waiting for an answer before he kisses you. You slide your hand behind his neck to pull him in, tasting yourself on his tongue.

He stops kissing you. “So.. you still going on your date?”

You feel your cheeks getting hot, “What if I told youuu…” you twirl a strand of Logan’s hair that’s hanging over his forehead, “that there never was a date. Or a guy.”

Logan breaks out in a smile, “You were too shy to ask me to fuck you so you made up an entire person?”

You hear the key turning in the lock in that moment, and even though you’ll be covered by the back of the sofa Logan shields you with his hands as best as he can, reaching for your clothes.

Wade comes in and you immediately sit up, holding Logan’s hand and forearm to your tits to cover them.

“Guess what happened?” you squeal at Wade.

Wade’s eyes go over to you and then to Logan, and he drops his bags of grocery shopping to jump up and down, “Was it my plan? I told you my plan would work!”

You grin, “It was your plan.”

Logan looks between you and Wade, rolling his eyes but he’s unable to hide a smile.

“It was a good plan, right? I told her she could just ask you out but she was too shy so I told her to make up a guy she’s dating,” Wade explains.

“Alright,” Logan laughs quietly, “Now fuck off so I can fuck my girl again.”

Wade’s eyes go wide and he says what you’re thinking, “My girl? I’d faint if he called me that. You owe me,” he points at you.

You blow a kiss at Wade and he pretends to catch it, pressing it to his lap. You roll your eyes and smile, waving at him, “You heard him, we’ve got stuff to do.”

The almost animalistic smirk Logan gives you when Wade is gone should scare you, but it only makes you want him more. He picks you up in his arms, carrying you to his room. You can’t wait for what’s to come.

-

P.S. Logan thinks good girls reblog and comment on the fics they enjoy 🩷🫣