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1997yakul · 1 year ago

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chapter 3: The Wolf

Men With Cold Exteriors and Kind Hearts, Among Other Great Sights

.·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙　✩　̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ ..·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥

summary: After getting a handle on things at your new job and putting your deposit down on your first apartment, you finally feel like you're proving your worth to the adult world. Only, is your catlike, hot, new boss (that smells too good) going to be an issue? Or, will it be the buff, delicate-mannered, heavy lifter that somehow just became your roommate? Either way-- this is fine, everything's okay, because you're grown now and you can figure it out....

Right?

(masterlist) ☆ (monsta x masterlist)

.｡.:*♡ Pairing: boss!changkyun x gender neutral reader ('pretty girl' is used once…sorry I simply couldn’t resist)

Word Count: 5.4k (chap1, chap2, chap3)

✧ Tags: chose your ending!, angst, humor, kissing, swearing, almost sexy time, absolutely broken changkyun iykyk, self doubt/worry/fear, alcohol consumption

✧ Notes: changkyun's ending !!! yippee enjoy

initially published on ao3 on july 11 2023

✩ fic is below the cut! enjoy ✩

Right as the door shuts, you wag your finger repeatedly at Hyunwoo and he throws his arms up in an accusing manner, bobbing his head saying “He did not hear me!” before getting interrupted with your hand clamping over his mouth.

“He literally turned around! And you are too loud! Still!” He laughs, backing out of your hand.

✱

Kihyun and Chaeyoung meet you at the bus stop the Monday after and are cracking up at videos they took of each other at karaoke. There’s a small pang of sadness, courtesy of FOMO.

And then it swallows itself with warmth at the memory of a ride home from Changkyun.

Sitting alone in the seat across from them, you ask to see the videos. Kihyun is belting out some sad ballad and Chaeyoung is recording, creating a very unstable video that trembles with each one of her bouts of laughter.

Kihyun’s eyes widen after you share some of your night with Changkyun to them. Chaeyoung gasps, huddling close and in a hushed voice says, “No, dude— you’re literally dating at this point.” She points to you, shaking her head slowly. Kihyun agrees, mumbling about how shocked he is that anyone could get Changkyun to loosen up.

“I don’t know, I think we are like… friends now. He told me to call him by his first name.” You say, fumbling with a zipper on your bag. Kihyun and Chaeyoung laugh, shocked beyond words. “I’m serious! I’ll show you, I swear.”

By the time you arrive at work with Kihyun and Chaeyoung, Changkyun is in his office, only the top of his head visible upon entry to the floor. It’s the first time since he transferred here that you’ve come in and the shades have been drawn open on his office windows. His head ducked down so you can only see the slicked black hair slide down the back of his nape, feathering out before the collar of his shirt. He wears this grayish suit, a shade of purple peeks from under his ironed suit jacket. It’s powerful, maybe a muted prussian. The light enters the office from behind him, a window perfectly positioned for a view of the entrance. You’re sure it comes with a direct line of vision to his car. You wonder if Changkyun is one of those men that calls his car his ‘baby’ and boasts about it to other higher-ups using explicitly feminine terms in a grimy sort of fashion. You hope he doesn’t. You decide definitely not, but eventually remind yourself that men always seem to; slowly but surely— ease you into their very secretive misogynistic tendencies only after you’ve started really getting to know them. You’ve had your fair share of Tinder dates fall off the deep end because it turned out that ‘non-political’ just means ‘extremely right leaning, but I know if I set it as this I would get absolutely zero pussy. I’m compromising. Surprise! Let’s talk about Ben Shapiro for an hour at this janky pizza place.’ But, he’s certainly not like that… Well… Okay. Chill out. You don’t really know him, stop assuming. This is what happens when you let yourself indulge in your imagination.

You sit down, logging into your computer and clocking in. Chaeyoung says something about waiting for your ‘bestie’ to pop over, and just as she finishes her sentence, the door to Changkyun’s office swings open. He kicks down the door stopper and makes a b-line to your desk. Chaeyoung scrambles to sit down in time, gripping at her arm rests and accidentally launching a pen into the air.

It falls to the carpeted floor with a sad patter at Changkyun’s feet, a shiny pair of black oxford’s. He presses the toe of his shoe on the tip of the pen, flicking it up. He leans over and grabs it midair, his thumb and palm envelope it. Without ever looking Chaeyoung in the eye, he sets it on her desk. “Good morning.” She mumbles out, “Thank you, Mr. Im.”

He turns, laying his forearm along the divider between your cubicle and Chaeyoung’s. “Hello.” He greets, leaning over a little to meet your eye level better.

Your heart fills your chest, thumping hard enough that it reaches your ears. You swallow hard and turn to him. “Hi, Changkyun.”

He cocks his head a little, straightening up and adjusting his sleeve around his wrist. “Mr. Im, right?” He smiles, it’s a little too proud, and now you feel weak again. Kihyun’s expression grows weary. “Can you follow me to my office?” Suddenly, the calm sound of hushed voices and rustling papers halts, and a few heads turn to face you and Changkyun. Your mouth feels dry, and your palms begin to sweat.

“Sure, Mr. Im.” You stand slow, waiting for him to back up a little so you have more room to move— but he just holds his ground. You shuffle around your spinny chair until he starts making his way to his office, then you shove the chair aside and glance at your friends. They are both making crazy eyes, and Kihyun offers a shrug. You shake your head unknowingly.

“Close the door behind you, please.” He says, his voice always grumbling lowly, and you follow his cologne like it comes with a leash. He gives his shades a few twists, just to give a little more privacy. The room gets darker, and he pulls out the chair for you. “So,” he points to your seat before fixing his belt. He leans on the side of his desk, his name plaque new and shiny, gold. “I was wondering if you had any ideas for a company outing.”

“This isn’t about me calling you by your first name?”

He blinks a little dumbly before glancing out the windowed door, heads fire back to their computers at his silent command. “No, I mean. That too, but this means more to me.” He feels up and down his right arm. “Don’t call me that in the office, I’d prefer if we kept it formal at work, you know…” His eyebrows thread together, fighting as he tries to find the right words. “Please.”

You nod, two times very firmly. “Company outing, um…” Checking over to your right, Kihyun and Chaeyoung are peering over their dividers at you. “Well I know some employees really like karaoke.” He nods in agreement, his fingers brushing softly at the tip of his nose.

“And that would be fun, for everyone to go do karaoke?”

“Maybe, like, eat and then do karaoke? Just so it’s an easier warm up.”

He nods, motioning to the door. “Okay, thank you. I’ll take that into consideration.” You stand up, kind of bug eyed, and push the chair back in, leaving with your hands close to your sides. You let the door close quietly before speed walking back to your cubicle. Kihyun and Chaeyoung both lean in to hear what happened, and you wave them off, peeking back at Changkyun. He is nervously pacing around his office, his face adorning a stern, thoughtful look.

✱

It doesn’t take long for the plans to become final, Changkyun sets up a company outing for that Friday, saying it will boost morale and help him get to know everyone better.

Changkyun is about four shots in when he says he is done drinking. He’s got a red flush across his nose bridge and cheeks, and his jaw is looser than usual, not clenched or as serious as he usually keeps it. He says something along the lines of… “Finish this on your own, this is the best I’ll feel all night” or “This is the end for me, I’m perfectly tipsy.” You can’t exactly recollect the wording, but it does something to your stomach nonetheless. The IT guy who sits next to Changkyun laughs hard, obviously more drunk. He unbuttons the top two buttons on Changkyun’s shirt, saying it’s too hot for him to still be wearing his full suit. Changkyun agrees sheepishly, wiggling off his jacket and folding it over the back of his chair.

He runs his hands from his forehead to the crown of his head, stopping there for a moment to scratch a little at his scalp. His mouth fills up with hot air, releasing it through his nose. He rubs his knuckles over his top lip, catching any sweat forming and leans back in his chair. The front legs lift off the ground ever so slightly, and he unbuttons the third button of his shirt on his own. He grabs at the bottom of his papery button up and tugs firmly a few times, enough to get fresh air. His cologne trickles down the table, it’s warm now, usually cold. Humid, and slightly tepid. The room smells of alcohol and heat. Stuffy and masculine. Kihyun and Chaeyoung pass you a shot each, and you take them before your brain can conjure up a reason not to.

The guy sitting across from Changkyun laughs heartily before getting his words out, pointing a hand up in the air. “I have an idea.” He is as drunk as one could get, hiccuping embarrassingly between syllables. “Let’s just do, uhm… let’s all play Smash or Pass.” Changkyun wordlessly shakes his head ‘No,’ lifting an arm from his lap onto the table.

“I organized this, thanks to Y/N” Changkyun starts, his words soft and tender, hand movements flow wistfully. “This was meant to be a way for me to get to know you guys a bit better, I don’t want—”

“Okay, we all know who you’re smashing!” Someone shouts out from your end of the table, and Changkyun shouts back before he can process what he is getting himself into.

“Who would that be!?” He points at the guy asking, his eyebrows uneven and mouth loose. It’s quiet for a second, and Changkyun scans up and down the table to see if anyone really has the gall.

“Y/N.” Someone says obtusely, it’s a statement rather than a question or a suggestion, and a few other people laugh in agreement. Now the table has a weird air of uncomfortableness as people wait for Changkyun or you to respond. The only reason it’s not unbearably awkward is because you can assume not many people will remember this tomorrow. Chaeyoung laughs the absolute hardest, and Kihyun grabs at her shoulders to calm her down. Your body freezes, mid-sip and you blink once, eyes shifting to Changkyun.

His face slowly droops, eyebrows furrowing in a hurt way.

“You couldn’t get mamas in your dreams!!!” Chaeyoung yells, grabbing a wad of dirty napkin and throwing it limply in his direction. Her cry jumpstarts the ruckus once more. The tissue barely makes it an inch towards him, and he only evinces a weak snarl, recoiling ever so slightly.

“Chaeyoung!” You shout, setting down your glass hard enough that it splashes in the cup. “Stop that!” You are tipsy too, and the words can’t come like they would if you weren’t. You feel limp and defeated, and Changkyun’s expression is heartbreaking.

His jaw juts out slightly, his cheeks hollowing as he thinks, and the table grows quiet once again. His eyes scan back and forth down the table at the plates and glasses, shaking his head in disapprovement. “That is…” He stands up, pushing his chair back and stumbling around in his spot, the girl next to him puts her hands up to protect herself as he stabilizes, rocking back and forth slightly between his wobbly legs. He bites at his lip, finally scanning the faces at the table until he meets your eyes. You weren’t thinking about your expression before now, but from his reaction you can tell it was obviously some form of disgust. He shakes his head, “I’m really so sorry.” He says, and a few other people mumble out apologies around you.

He stands up, grabbing something from his pockets as he pushes the exit door open, and the table is met with the most awkward silence you have ever experienced. Two girls whisper amongst themselves, standing up and walking to the bathroom together. Tears spring just slightly at your eyes when you realize the importance of what just happened, and the effect it will certainly have on Changkyun and your friendship. The nice buzz is just setting in, and you stand up and force yourself to follow him out.

“Hi.” You say, gentle as you let the door fall closed behind you. His wide shoulders greet you before he can turn around, the few clicks of a lighter sound out before he turns to face you. A cool gust of wind passes you both by, and his shirt flaps harshly against his chest, his hair ruffled and fucked from him rutting his fingers back and forth through it. “It’s nice out here, wow. Less stuffy.” You smile the words out, hoping he’ll wordlessly agree to forget about the whole thing. He’s got a cigarette between his fingers and he looks down at you, silently. He huffs, exhaling towards the street so the smoke doesn’t hit you, but the wind brings it to your face anyway. You cough a little, eyes tingling as you lift your face up to see him. Tears have filled up his eyes to the brim. His face is dark, and he smirks slightly around his cigarette, using a free hand to untuck his shirt.

He chuckles, dropping his wrist to his thigh, holding his cigarette below. “I’m sorry.” He repeats, wiping his sleeve twice at each eye. You pull his arm down, fingers gripping at his sleeve. His eyes are red, cheeks still rosy. You run your thumb along his waterline, and he wets his lower lip. He taps a little at his cigarette, holding it down by his side.

“Shouldn’t I be the one crying?” You smile up at him, and he finally smiles back. You feel fuzzy. Light on your toes, you run your hand down his cheek, and he melts. His eyes close and his shoulders droop, face sinking into your palm, warm and calm. Two tears run down his cheeks onto your hand, splitting off down into the delicate texture of your skin. “You need this.” You whisper, and he smiles so slightly, face so tired and gaunt. You reach, slow around his waist up to his back, and run your hand down until his spine curves. He leans into you, folding over your shoulder limply. He says nothing, only settles into your body as his breathing slows. He uses one forearm to prop himself off of you, pressing his arm flat against the glass with a sharp 90 degree bend at his elbow, careful not to lean anymore weight on you. You would worry about your coworkers seeing you, but your buzz is perfect, he’s lovely, and the sheer curtains are doing enough for your own level of comfort.

He mumbles, folding an arm around your waist. “There’s so much I want to say, in another setting.” He’s heavy, but gravity feels fake, and there’s a lightness that encapsulates the both of you. “Just— just for now,” He exhales the last of his uneven breaths. “Please take your time with me.” His voice crumbles a bit, like he’s ashamed or knows it’s wrong to ask for this or behave this way with an inferior. The forearm pressed flesh against the glass drops, and he huffs, face craned next to your ear. He’s tired and mellows out over your shoulder, maybe it’s the first time he’s been this honestly exhausted with someone. Like the act is done and over. He’s not unapologetic about it, he’s just ashamed and tired. As if he doesn’t want to be perceived this way, but has realized he has no choice.

You can’t remember the last time you held someone who needed to be held as much as Changkyun. You wrap your arms around him too.

✱

A lot of the employees are missing when Changkyun and you return to your table in the restaurant. Kihyun is patting Chaeyoung on the back as she downs another noodle side dish. Changkyun’s demeanor is completely different, the last second you checked on him before entering the restaurant again, he was bent over and worn looking, like a worn teddy bear with not enough stuffing. Now he was tall and powerful, chest puffed slightly and eyes just a little puffy (he assured one of your coworkers it was the sodium). “So, karaoke?” He says, broadening his shoulders, finishing his suggestion by cupping his hands together. Kihyun mumbles something to Chaeyoung, but she yells out many mushed words of approval before processing anything he says.

“Shhh! It’s fine!” She fawns, twisting around to face Kihyun, who’s worried expression releases into satisfaction.

It’s not a karaoke session in Korea without Big Bang. Kihyun chooses something cheesy and melodic and Chaeyoung tells him to skip it before he gets a word out. They battle over the tambourine and Changkyun only joins in to break them up when Bae Bae comes on and he’s had another few drinks in him, he sings everything flat and his eyes bore holes into Kihyun as he helps Chaeyoung pull off her cardigan. The room is musty and hot, and there’s at least 8 or 9 of you smashed along the couch, exposed skin sticking to the sweating leather seats. Changkyun’s cologne still envelopes the room, and even if you close your eyes to calm down your bouncing heart rate, you smell him and the lavishness of his skin. The dry tobacco scent from his cigarette at the restaurant clings to him. He folds his fingers one at a time over your wrist to get you to stand, a limp tug like he wants you to get up, but isn’t telling you to. You get up anyway.

He points to you, singing T.O.P’s verse like he really means it, kind of wobbling around flimsily. He’s all goofy and sways around the hot room, and taking his free hand to touch those on the couch like he’s a genuine celebrity. You smile big, laughing every once in a while when he fucks up the lyrics and has to stop in his tracks and look back at the screen, having to hang up the charismatic facade as he figures out the words. Once he gets back in the swing of things, he acts like he never stopped in the first place. He’s hypnotic and beguiling like he has always been and rocks his head back and forth, exposing his neck, slicked with sweat like a sacrificial offering. He glances over at you just slightly when he sings “My body wraps around yours so perfectly” and you think it’s all profusely nostalgic, like maybe you dreamt of this as a dinky tween. The only problem is he breaks eye contact two seconds later and grabs hold of another employee and tugs at her sleeve to stand, but it's not like what he did with you earlier, this tug is demanding. He’s desperate. The irrepressible urge to scream grows in your throat, and you whisper to Kihyun that you’re going out to get some air.

It’s a good few breaths you take outside, like finally the cool air can hit you again like it did outside the restaurant. You pull out your phone to mindlessly scroll, just for a minute or two. The clock reads 22:27. Hyunwoo texts you a peculiar gif not a second later, it’s a very specific reference to a conversation you had with him earlier. It feels nice to know he listens so carefully. A gray bubble pops up before you can type a response. ‘How’s it going? Havin fun?’ You smile, your heart tugs a little and you feel grounded again. “Soooo much fun.” A voice grumbles behind you, and Changkyun leans over your shoulder, craning around your back and slipping his arms under yours, his hands folding over yours, fingers aligning as he begins to type for you. “Good?” He breathes out, and you have to turn your head away from him to calm down. Your heart thumps heavily, so heavy and powerful that it hurts, a low droning pain.

He doesn’t send the text before you can turn back around to face him, and he steps back a bit to stabilize himself. You hold your thumb on the backspace until each word disappears, and your eyes meet Changkyun’s for a moment before you look down to your feet. They’re heavy-lidded now, and his hair is still all sorts of fucked up. Your heart pumps at an unbearable rate, and you can hear your pulse through your ears. “Stop being so…” he exasperates, threading a hair behind your ear. Leans in, close enough for his breath to tickle, “…scared of me.”

You have to stretch a little to shake off the haze that’s settling over your mind, and his hands drag from under your arms down to the top of your hips, and they settle along them like they were made to be there all along. You open your mouth, but nothing that your brain skims through can accurately reply. “Okay.” You nod up at him, like you only know obedience.

He dips his head back down, his bottom lip drags over your neck, and he kisses you there once or twice. He lets out these soft little sounds like he’s too excited for words. “You’re so pretty,” he mumbles. “Fuck, so good. So pretty.” Your hand grazes over his neck and slides down until your thumb traces over his collarbone. He kisses less sloppy this time, on your neck again, on your cheek, on your jaw. Avoiding your lips like he’s saving them for later.

He’s been doing shots, you think. “I’m so grateful that I met you.” He whispers over your ear, and his arms wrap further around your waist, inching back up. “You know, earlier…” He starts, carefully, like it’s a sensitive topic that he doesn’t mean to offend with. “Thank you for understanding.” It’s weird, you think. He’s being endearing, or at least he’s trying to. You can feel him in his suit pants and he’s just growing harder. You push him off slow. “It’s okay, yeah?” He’s so drunk he’s barely awake. You can only bite at your lip and look away. More than anything in the world, you would like to fuck Changkyun. Even just once, even if it made your job so much harder and so much more awkward after. You just think it would be so good that it would all be worth it. But he’s too drunk, so you can’t. “I’m drunk, I’m drunk. I really like you, if you like me…” His words get sloppier and guilt pits in your stomach heavier than you can handle. You push him with two fingers back further like you’re really annoyed now, he has to stabilize himself by gripping a railing. You head back inside.

✱

Changkyun is an enigma. It seems with everything in his career, he faces it head on. With you, he’s careful, would never expect a clear answer or decision unless it's statistics on a file. Ever since that night at karaoke, he's cowered away in humiliation. You’re sure he wants you both to forget the whole thing, but it's so difficult with the words he spoke to you circling your head like the last drops of water down the drain. It takes a week before you realize that he’s not going to address the situation on his own, and if you want something to give, you're going to have to be the one who initializes the first push.

You fake overtime, knowing he usually stays later than the rest of you, you text Kihyun and Chaeyoung that you’ll call them after you speak to him and let them know all of the details. As soon as your last coworker wishes you a good night and the elevator doors close before her, your stomach pits like you've just thrown yourself into the lion’s den. It's the worst mistake you've made, and terror envelopes your entire system. You tell yourself in 15 minutes you’ll go knock on his door, sliding headphones on to calm yourself down. Shuffling a playlist a few times, you focus on your breathing while putting some stray pens and papers back into your filing drawer. When you hear Changkyun’s office door open way sooner than expected, your throat dries in an instant, your eyes glued to your desk and you work on trying to become as small and unnoticeable as possible.

His voice penetrates the wall you've desperately tried to build, and you turn quickly to face the direction it comes from, pushing off your headphones so they can fall around your neck. It's only then you realize that your music was never connected to them. You stand out of your chair suddenly. Changkyun looms, his silhouette shaded, one of the few light sources in the room is a lamp behind him. You cock your head slightly at him and he repeats himself: “Narcos.”

Your eyes flicker to your phone, and he's right. You were listening to the Narcos theme, outloud. “Sorry. I thought my headphones were–” Changkyun’s lips frown, and he shakes his head in disapproval, his arms folded over his chest. So you cut yourself short, grabbing your bag in a rush to just get out because the whole thing felt like a mistake.

“Do you know what the lyrics are about?” He doesn't try stopping you from packing away your things or help you clean up, he just watches with arms crossed. You shake your head, slowing down movements, trying to process the situation. “Drowning fear with love.”

“Why didn't you come to talk to me?” You surprise yourself with your sudden outburst, pinching yourself in the thigh.

He sighs like he’s been preparing what he’s about to say. “I overstepped. If anyone was going to reach out again, it should not have been me.” Your heart tugs because he's thought it out and was respectful and right. He was right.

“Why'd you have to drink so much?” Your eyes trace over the darkness that has hidden him so well.

You can hear him smile, and the song still plays behind you. “Because I’m smitten for someone I shouldn't be.” His head tilts down to his shoes on the carpet, a few strands of his slicked hair fall forward. Your heart feels like it's on a linear path to explosion. “Someone I have too much power over already.” He inhales deeply, and you move slowly to face him, releasing the pen in your hand.

“They make me nervous. I care a lot about how this person sees me, and I was worried they saw me as too uptight. So I did the only thing I knew would make me less uptight. Like a jackass.”

“Well doing that to me was the most jackass thing you've ever done, so you’ve got your worries in the wrong place.”

”Smitten” lt tingles in your stomach.

“I’m sorry. I know.” He steps forward twice until he can be illuminated by your desk light, and he looks magnificent. His eyelids hang heavily and he has dark bags under his eyes. The curve of his back as he looks down, his dress shirt flexing over his shoulders as he reaches to put the pen in a cup. “It was gross. I’m a dog.”

“No, idiot. No. You’re so stupid.” You pull the pen back out from the cup and slap it back onto your desk. His eyes light up, widening at your reaction. “You’re not a dog. You made me want you when I couldn't have you.” Changkyun has to tilt his head back slightly to give you room to come closer. “You made me worry for you and then disappeared like you didn’t need me. You’re a cat.” The song slows to a complete halt and the office is completely silent besides the air conditioning stuttering to keep up.

“I do.” Changkyun whispers. “I do need you.” His fingers float around your head like he isn’t sure if he’s allowed to touch. “You wanted me.” He says, and you’re unsure if it’s a question. You don’t care, you nod anyways, pulling his hand to your face like he did to you a week ago. “Pretty.” He mumbles, tilting his head to get a better view. You can barely keep your eyes open, and he places his other hand on your cheek before pulling you close to him again. Back into his embrace, where his cologne suffocates the air around you. You’d be happy to only breathe this air forever. “You’re so pretty.” He wraps an arm around your waist, holding tight enough that your hips push into each other, colliding dully. This time his words aren’t slurred, they’re just kept quiet, like a secret meant to keep between the two of you. “I’m your cat.” Your heart pounds against him, and he pulls both of his arms around to your back so he can take off his watch, sliding it off and setting it on your desk behind you. He lifts you up by your thighs and rests you next to it, your fingers brush the cool metal as you stabilize yourself.

He backs up for a second, just so he can scan over your face for any implication you don’t want him. “I’m, really…” He laughs, looking at his feet before centering himself on you again. Feeling at his cheeks with the back of his hand. “I’m really smitten.”

“Prove it.” You whisper, and Changkyun steps forward again, smoothly sliding a palm around the side of your neck, leaning in slowly, eyelashes hiding his pupils.

“I did already. Don’t you remember when I tried to fuck you after singing?” He smiles, proud of himself now for being able to keep his impulses at bay. You let your head loll from side to side like you’re deep in thought.

You hum a note of approval, “I would’ve let you if I knew you could’ve kept it up for more than a minute. It never lasts when you’re that drunk.” Your fingers brush down the side of his cheek, and Changkyun’s eyebrows thread conspicuously. He situates himself deeper between your legs.

“Let me make it up to you.” His palm lands on top of your thigh, brushing up and down. “You’re too perfect.”

You stare at him, angled down just a little from your seat on the desk. “What did you say earlier…” You prod, pushing Changkyun back an inch with a hand on his chest. “Called yourself a kitty. My kitty”

He shakes his head this time, whatever to get his point across, he’ll take. You drag your nails down the side of his neck, leaning in to press kisses on the opposite side, and needy noises fall from his lips. His shoe twisting into the carpet, he leans further in again, grabbing a fistful of ass as compensation. You make your way over to his lips, finally fulfilling the need. He nips quickly and sharply at your bottom lip, his hand forking through your hair. “Fuck” he groans, “fuck me.” “Please.” His voice mellows out as his phone starts buzzing in his back pocket. You sigh deeply, dropping your face to your hands, his face hot and legs tangled up in his. You pull away at the same time he does, checking it quickly before ending the call without ever picking it up. His pupils are blown out, cheeks are a bright pink, lips plumped and a little shiny from your makeup. You pat at his hair, rutting through knots with your fingers.

“I made dinner reservations for us because I had planned to apologize. Like a boss would.” He catches the hand on his head with his own. “Not how I expected today to go.”

“I’m hungry.” You shrug with a smile, and he eyes you completely baffled. He stares for a moment before shrugging.

“I’m with you.”

“Let’s go, Kitty cat.” You slide yourself off the side of the desk, fixing your skirt as Changkyun fixes your hair.

He halts his hands before letting them fall with a pinch of one of your cheeks. “Don’t let that be a thing, please.”

✱

chapter 1 ☆ chapter 2: "The Bear"

(masterlist) ☆ (monsta x masterlist)

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kalopsic-lagomorph · 1 year ago

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today I saw an x reader of Jeff the killer and Ben drowned fanfic, which not a strange occurrence when scrolling Tumblr dot com, except the op didn't put the "the killer" and "drowned" part and I thought people were writing fanfic about domming Jeff bezos and Ben Shapiro

#honestly still not that weird #ro talks #jeff the killer #ben drowned #jeff bezos #ben shapiro

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the-eternal-quest-for-balance · 7 months ago

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“But the debate was never going to happen. That is because the Daily Wire — in secret and unbeknownst to its readers — sought a gag order to be placed on Owens after she had called for a debate. They did this under the cover of secrecy, before a private arbitrator, at exactly the same time that they were claiming in public that they wanted this debate and were even negotiating the terms with her,” Glenn Greenwald wrote.

“When seeking a gag order to be imposed on Owens, the Daily Wire accused her of violating the non-disparagement clause of her agreement with the company. To substantiate this accusation, the company specifically cited Owens’ initial tweet requesting a debate with Shapiro as proof of this disparagement, along with concerns she voiced that Shapiro appeared to be violating the confidentiality agreement between them by publicly maligning Owens’s views to explain her departure from the company. While the company claimed before the arbitrator that it did not object in principle to a “healthy debate,” it urged the imposition of gag order on Owens by claiming that the way she requested the debate constituted disparagement of Shapiro and the site,” Glenn Greenwald.

“To justify the gag order it wanted, the company also cited various criticisms of the Daily Wire and Shapiro on X that Owens had “liked.” This proceeding took place as part of an exchange of legal threats between the parties after the public agreement to debate about Israel was solidified,” Greenwald wrote.

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Could Jeremy and Ben be the sleezy douchebags they are looking like ??? Or is it Candace ???

Makes me not want to have anything to do with any of them.

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strideofpride · 1 year ago

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apparently there are over 6,000 works of contemporary political rpf on ao3 right now, which is nearly triple the size of the entire gossip girl ao3 archive. the top two most kudosed are both ben shapiro/reader pegging fics, followed by donald trump & the avengers and a 68,000 word x-rated billary epic.

🌟✨~the more you know~✨🌟

#i am a little intrigued by trump and the avengers i will admit #do they fight him or something?#or is it a sex thing :/#anonymous #strideofprideanswers

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pjsk-writin · 2 years ago

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i showed my friend the Rui x reader veggies fic and he read the "lets say you do get him to eat his veggies" and he looked at me and said " 'lets say hypothetically' is this rui x ben shapiro??" and i laughed my ass off

HDXNLSKXJF HELP THATS SO FUNNY OMGS

#mod amia !#silly moments !!

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citizen-saint · 4 months ago

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doing a speedrun where i open up the tag for any major blockbuster film then scroll till i find a random mc x tiny waifish petite porcelain-skinned baby girl who is also flawless and has a pussy that would make ben shapiro concerned for her health reader smut ficlet

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write-like-wright · 3 years ago

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Okay, look, Stronghart is crazy, but he'd be a great sugar daddy. Now what if, hypothetically, I asked for a Sugar Daddy!Stronghart/Fem!Reader 👀👀 -Boyfriend Anon

*Ben Shapiro voice* Okay, let's say that, hypothetically, you want a sugar daddy, right? So, if you wanted this hypothetical sugar daddy, right, you'd want someone with money and influence, probably an older guy, right, okay? Let's say you want a rich and influential older guy, hypothetically speaking, of course. So, hypothetically speaking, right, you could say that Mael Stronghart is the perfect sugar daddy, right?

Pairing: Mael Stronghart x female reader

Warnings: a sugar baby - sugar daddy arrangement, clear power imbalance, fluffy, just Stronghart taking care of you tbh, the nickname "pet" used liberally, kinda suggestive in a few spots

Wordcount: 497

"Lord Stronghart," you bow quickly as you enter his study, awaiting instructions with hands behind your back. His note merely said to come see him at your earliest convenience whilst wearing that green dress he'd purchased for you a few months back and you complied, arriving at his place just a few minutes before seven in the evening. Stronghart was not the kind of a man who would forgive tardiness, after all. "Ah, pet, you're just on time. Excellent. You look quite lovely. Come here," the white-haired man purrs, his cat-like features breaking out in a familiar smirk as he pats his thigh.

You stride towards him wordlessly, perching yourself on his lap. He gently turns your face towards his, looking at you expectantly. Having learned to read his signals, you close the distance between you, softly pressing your lips to his. His kisses are always gentle, even when he looks as if he wants to devour you. "Tell me, pet, have you eaten dinner yet?" You shake your head. "Have you eaten at all today?" You shake your head again, your gaze falling to the ground. "I see. May I ask why? Is the allowance I give you not enough?"

You sigh, meeting his intense gaze. "My landlord increased my rent again, my Lord, and it's been so cold lately I've been spending lots on gas. If I have to choose between being homeless and freezing to death and going hungry, I'd rather go hungry for a few days." Stronghart hums, observing you thoughtfully. "Oh, dear," the large man sighs, "That won't do at all, pet. I won't have you going hungry under my care. I'll find more suitable lodging for you in the next few days. In the meantime, have this," he says, offering you a fistful of coins as if it were nothing. "And please, I implore you, drop that 'my Lord' nonsense already when we're together."

"Y-Yes, my L- I mean, yes. Thank you," you gasp, blinking away the tears as you put the money in your purse. Lord Stronghart was a peculiar man, as handsome as he was cold, feared by many throughout London. Yet, he was kind and thoughtful to you, you who came from nothing compared to him. All he wanted in exchange was your company on certain lonely nights which you were more than happy to give. "Now, shall we eat?" He didn't wait for your response, quickly ringing a bell that was atop his desk. In a matter of seconds, a young maid rushed into the room with several dishes in hand, her eyes cast to the ground and refusing to meet yours, most likely on Stronghart's orders. "What is it?" Stronghart asks, noting your hesitance. "I promised I'd take care of you, did I not? Eat now. I have more plans for you later." You slowly bring a morsel of the unfamiliar dish to your mouth, heat building in your core at the tone of his voice.

#mael stronghart #mael stronghart x reader #x reader #ace attorney #the great ace attorney #dai gyakuten saiban #boyfriend anon #ask #one shot #aka exactly what i need in my life rn lmao #someone come feed a broke student bitch thanks #the opportunities to clown on ben shapiro arise in the strangest of places and times

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batmansymbol · 3 years ago

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hi riley! read this recently and would love to get ur perspective on this as a YA author https://tinyletter.com/misshelved/letters/did-twitter-break-ya-misshelved-6

hi anon! yeah, i read this the day it was posted. thoughts/supplementary essay below.

firstly, i'd put a big "I AGREE" stamp across this essay. i think it's well-cited and thoughtful, and i agree with pretty much everything in it. i especially appreciate it for introducing me to the terms "context collapse" and "morally motivated networked harassment" - seeing internet sociology studied and labeled is ... odd, but useful.

i left twitter in 2017, but i keep an eye on things, which seem similar now to the way they were four years ago. the essay describes the never-ending scrutiny, the need to seem perfect, and the pressure on writers to out themselves. all of that is spot-on. twitter is an outing machine. there is so much harassment and anger on the platform that in serious conversations, good-faith engagement becomes something that must be earned, rather than something that's expected. and in order to earn good faith, strangers expect you to offer up an all-access pass to who you are. otherwise, things might take a swift left turn into verbal abuse.

obviously twitter is a cesspit of harassment from racist, homophobic, and transphobic people, but i think the most painful harassment comes from within the community. i, and most people i know, wouldn't give a single minuscule little fuck if ben shapiro's entire army of ghouls came after us and told us we were destroying the sacred values of Old America or whatever. but the community at large does care about issues of racial justice and queer liberation and economic justice. which is why it's painful to see this supposed "community" eating its own over and over again.

how cruel can we be to people and pretend that we are their friends? that's the emotional crux of the essay to me. what we're doing to ourselves - people who do share our values and want to achieve the same goals - because this one platform is built on rewarding the quickest, most brutal, and most public response.

god forbid you don't have your identity figured out. god forbid you have an invisible disability, or are writing a story about something sensitive you've personally experienced but had an off-consensus reaction to. on twitter, if you are not a paragon of absolute and immediate clarity, you may as well be lower than dirt morally, because you're unable to do what the platform requires of you: air every private corner of your identity, up to and including your trauma, to justify not only your everyday actions and opinions but also your art.

(this is all honestly incompatible with interesting art, but i'll get to that in a bit.)

it doesn't take a genius to see how troubling this environment is when combined with twitter as a marketing tool. i remember that around the time of my debut, i'd tweet out threads of private, painful, personal stuff, which felt terrible to recount, but i'd watch the like count increase with this sense of catholic, confessional satisfaction. all of this was tied to the idea of my potential salability as a writer.

i was around 21 at the time. i felt a lot of pressure as a debut. i wanted people to like me and think i was exceptionally mature and confident. i wanted to do my job and build buzz for my book. i saw that all these publishing professionals and authors spent day in, day out angry and exhausted on twitter. every few days, a new person fifteen years older than me would say, "i can't take this anymore, i'm so fucking tired of this, i'm logging off for a while." i thought, well, this must be how online activism feels: like running on a sprained ankle.

i can still remember book after book after book that inspired blow-ups, big explanations, and simmering resentment: carve the mark (whose author was forced to admit that she suffered chronic pain after relentless criticism of that element), the black witch (a book explicitly about unlearning racism that was criticized for depicting ... racism), ramona blue (a book about a bi girl who thinks she's a lesbian but winds up in an m/f relationship, because she's still discovering her identity) ... etc

each book, each incident, followed the same pattern. firestorms of anger, a decision of where to place blame, the desperate need for a single consensus opinion in the community. i think a lot of people on book twitter see these as bugs inherent to the platform, but really, in twitter's eyes, they're features. the angrier and more upset twitter's userbase is, the more reliant they are on the platform.

i wound up leaving around the time i realized that not only was twitter making me anxious - NOT being on twitter was beginning to make me anxious, because of vaguely dread-infused tweets all around like "i'm seeing an awful lot of people who are staying silent about X. ... why are so many people who are so loud about X so silent about Y?" etc.

that shit is beyond poisonous. people will not always be logged on. the absence of someone's agreement does not mean disagreement. actually, someone's absence is not inherently meaningful, because it is the internet and silence is everyone's default position; internet silence in all likelihood means that that person is out in the universe doing other things.

this is already a ridiculously long response, so i'll try to wrap up. firstly, i think that progressive writers and readers have GOT to stop thinking that a correct consensus opinion can exist on every piece of fiction, and on every issue in general, and that if someone diverges from that consensus, they're incorrectly progressive.

secondly, i think that progressive writers and readers have got to uncouple the idea of a "book with good politics" from a good book, because 1) there are books about morally grimy, despicable subjects that help us process the landscape of human behavior, and

2) if, in your fiction, there is only one set of allowed responses for your protagonist, you will write the same person over and over and over again. you see this a lot in religious fiction. the person is not a human being but an expression of the creator's moral alignment. (not entirely surprising that this similarity to religious correctness might crop up with the current state of the movement. i read this piece around the time i left twitter and it shook me really, really deeply.)

i understand that in YA, there's a sensation of immense pressure because people want to model good politics and correct behavior for kids. this is a noble idea - and maybe twitter is great for people who want to be role models. but i've become more and more staunchly against the idea of artist as role model. the role of the writer is not to be emulated but to write fiction. and the role of fiction is not to read like something delivered from a soapbox, or to display some scrubbed-clean universe where each wrong is immediately identified as a wrong, and where total morality is always glowing in the backdrop. it's to put something human on paper, and as human beings, we might aspire to total morality, but we fall short again and again. honestly, that's what being on twitter showed me more clearly than anything.

#reply #ya lit #personal #the discourse tm #essay

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moss-on-a-rock-555 · 3 years ago

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Apparently Ben Shapiro x reader fic is a thing and I don't know how to feel about it

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realcube · 4 years ago

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Ok but hc for what type of girl the pretty setter squad+yamaguchi they would date.

Thanks and have a nice day!💖🥺

yes!! i love the pretty setter squad but like i don’t have too many hcs to make this a whole thing so i feel like the following title is necessary:

characters: pretty setter squad + yamaguchi

trigger warning: swearing, somewhat crack, sexual references (these are just my opinions/hcs btw - plz don’t take it too seriously)

tobio kageyama

♡ i will preach this till the day i die and ik y’all are probably tired of writing all my reader inserts for kageyama x reader one-shots like this but yk what tobio wants- you know what tobio needs and deserves- the female equivalent of oikawa tōru

♡ if her favourite food ain’t milk bread and her personal motto isn’t ‘if you’re gonna hit it then it it till it breaks’ then HE DOESN’T WANT IT /j

♡ but he’d like someone who cares about their appearance, is passionate about something like he is, fairly smart, witty and kinda a heartthrob

♡ bonus points if it’s a sport that they are passionate about

♡ i feel like he’d be into just like a typical ‘girly girl’ yk?

♡ also he has a soft spot for acrylic nails- he just thinks they look so cool and if he saw yours he’d definitely call them ‘badass’

♡ he thinks they are kinda impractical for volleyball so that’s why he doesn’t get them himself (plus they are expensive as hell and he only has milk box money)

♡ so yeah he would date an oikawa kinnie

♡ overall, i think he just wants someone independent who can take care of themselves

♡ except when you can’t open the tab of your coke bc of your acrylics, then he is happy to help

tadashi yamaguchi

♡ i’ve said this before and i’ll say it again; YAMAGUCHI IS A LESBIAN

♡ ok now that i’ve got your attention, let me explain what this means and what it has to do with this taste in girls

♡ he fell down the wlw pipeline- if that’s a thing

♡ like while the gang were watching sjw get rekt compilations, yamaguchi was watching hayley kiyoko music videos and lgbt short films on youtube-

♡ now imagine that scene were babey yamaguchi was getting bullied except they were teasing him bc he said his favourite song was girls like girls RGTYGJKMN

♡ anyway, till this day, he is watching cottagecore lesbian tiktoks (minecraft and irl) while others watch ben shapiro it is such a shame

♡ he doesn’t fetishize them though- it’s just his ideal lifestyle

♡ he’s developed the mind of a wlw tho so i think his thoughts are similar to mine in a way that he’s just like ‘WOMEN 😍🥰💓’ all the time 24/7

♡ so yeah this was my elongated way of saying that yamaguchi doesn’t really have type, all women are queens in his eyes

♡ but in an ideal world, his s/o would be an ally of the lgbtq+ community, if not apart of it, stan any wlw singer/band (preferably kpop), won’t yell at him 🥺 and are willing to run away with him to a cottage in the woods at any given moment

kōshi sugawara

♡ his taste isn’t very specific but here are some things he looks for in partner:

♡ either likes baking or likes eating what he bakes and giving him feedback

♡ has long eyelashes/wears lashes (he thinks they are cute and ik you do too don’t even lie)

♡ oh and shiny lipgloss too

♡ very good communicator 😌

♡ a simp

♡ someone who likes gardening or is at least willing to try pick it up to help him with his herbs

♡ will do facemasks with him

♡ intelligence; he will literally bust a nut for someone who can recite newton’s third law of motion 😩

♡ and honesty ✨ (bc he needs to be told when his hair looks wack plz)

kenma kuzome

♡ plz he needs a catgirl

♡ like your typical anime catgirl

♡ bushy tail, high + soft voice, big eyes, even bigger honkers, maybe a tsundere, cat ears, purs and gives good head ✨

♡...

♡ I WAS JUST INFORMED THAT CAT GIRLS DO NOT EXIST AND I AM BOTH DISGUSTED AND DISAPPOINTED BEYOND BELIEF

♡ me and kenma are never leaving our rooms again istg what is even the point anymore if ik that i won’t meet a catgirl 😭

♡ so yeah, if he were to date someone who isn’t a cat girl, they’d probably have to be a human equivalent or like.. a gamer

♡ a streamer maybe

tōru oikawa

♡ he also doesn’t have a specific type but here are some of his turn offs:

♡ kageyama tobio

♡ kageyama tobio kinnies

♡ people who think he’s too obsessed with volleyball and is incapable of loving anything/anyone else

♡ laziness

♡ ppl who’ve got a FAT fucking ass 😡 (jealousy ofc)

♡ ushijima stans

♡ bad breath 🤢

♡ppl who don’t know every word of primadonna girl by marina

♡ horse girls

♡ aries (he’d still date an aries but he will tease you for it. if you ever mess something up like you drop a glass and it spills water everywhere he’ll just side-eye you like ‘that’s classic aries behaviour, ofc’)

keiji akaashi

♡ you

♡ literally you

♡ he doesn’t have a type but if he did, it would be you

♡ bc you’re reading hcs on tumblr rn and as yk, he’s a bookworm

♡ (and i believe wholeheartedly that he read fanfic/hcs on tumblr too. probably harry potter/hunger games)

♡ and also you’re reading his hcs which means you like him and he’s lost himself to unrequited love too many times so at least he knows you’re interested

♡ so yeah you check all the boxes:

☑ fanfic reader/bookworm

☑ watches anime

☑ pretty

☑ sweet

☑ actually likes him

eita semi

♡ big tiddy goth gf with thick eyeliner, dyed hair and chains

♡ big tiddy isn’t necessary - he doesn’t objectify women ✨

♡ but anyway, they should also be willing to step on his throat and break all his bones with their demonias, upon being asked politely

♡ spit in his mouth plz 🙏

♡ also an elite music is a must for him

♡ oh! and they should be willing to share their clothes/accessories with him (he’ll share his too ofc)

♡ a few other things he likes are: piercings, those little eyeliner hearts under the eyes, pink blush, thick eyebrows, black/dark purple lipstick, guitarist, drummers, singers (literally any sort of musician), platform shoes, alternative fashion in general, ppl who do DIYs, ppl who sew & ppl who cut/dye their own hair

♡ oh and like suga he is a slut for intelligence

♡ and for powerful/confident women !!

♡ don’t get that confused with financial power-

♡ like proper powerful ppl that flick off a bigot on sight

#tobio x you #oikawa toru x reader #akaashi x you #akaashi headcanons #kenma x y/n #semi eita #yamaguchi x reader #sugawara imagine #sugawara headcanon #tobio headcanons #oikawa headcanons #eita x reader #kenma headcanons #kenma x you #yamaguchi headcanons #pretty setter squad #notenoughcube

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