#but I’ve been working on this project for months now and it’s hard to work on it when she insists on snuggling in

[sailor-aviator]

Me: *leaves my lap open so I can move things around while working on my cross-stitch project*

Abigail (My cat):

[oysters-aint-for-me]

i feel like my mental/behavioral health has gotten to the point where i don’t just need therapy, i need treatment. ykwim

[burnyouwithacigarettelighter]

PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT ─── cillian murphy ✧𖦹

ೃ⁀➷ “I am turned inside out by the ache in your voice, the taste of your tongue." — ‘Afternoon Masala: Poems’, Vandana Khanna

pairing. cillian murphy x actor!reader

summary. you and your co-star, cillian, are having a hard time performing a sex scene for your movie. they do say, however, practice makes perfect.

warnings. swearing, thigh-riding, creampie, p in v, unprotected sex, mentioned/implied age gap, probably inaccurate depictions of actor-life, mirror sex, slight breeding kink, kinda innocent reader(?), AU cillian murphy (not married/no kids), SMUT UNDER THE CUT! 

word count. 4.5k

a/n. this is not in any way meant to disrespect cillians wife😭 i js made this a not married AU to be convenient!

i.

“Cut - cut, cut!” The director repeated, his increasing irritation colouring his voice completely. “Now, I said it earlier, but—“

You scrubbed your face with a sigh, getting up off of Cillian and the desk, who was propping himself up by the elbows. “It’s not passionate enough,” you finished flatly for your director, who nodded earnestly. 

“I promise, this is as tiring for me as it is for you. Remember,” the director continued, the script half curled in his hands and making a thin flapping noise, “it’s the culmination of six months of pining. Six months of taboo, unrelenting, electric tension. Nothing more than stares in class and brief touches- you are supposed to be bordering feral for one another.”

You, and your co-star, Cillian, were currently filming the first sex scene of a movie portraying the forbidden, toxic love affair between a barely 18 teenage student and her much older teacher. Well, not exactly filming- you weren’t getting far with the scene, for the two of you just couldn’t get it right. Or, as the director liked to say, passionate enough. 

The role was already incredibly taxing, even without the added stress of the sex scene: it was 20 hour work days, living on set in a trailer far from home, having to devote at least half of those hours to filming this very sex scene, and had a perfectionist director like yours. 

The problem was that it was long, and the director wanted it done in one take. Brilliant man, he was, and had a love for this project you wished every director had for theirs, but he was adamant on it being done perfectly. He said it was intended to be the “primary and most iconic” scene of the entire film, for it was the crux of the story; the point of no return for the characters. 

“With all due respect, I’ve never imagined such a scenario, much less had experience. Just how can you expect me to portray a student-teacher romance accurately?“

“That’s your job: to imagine and perform.” The director demanded, obviously up to his ears in frustration.

Just before you retorted irately, Cillian cut in smoothly. “I think what she means,” he said, watching the veins in the director’s forehead nearly burst, “is that it’s hard to perform because it’s not common. S’easy to act in love because there’s love all around, yeah? We don’t have much to go off of, visually.”

The director’s gaze rapidly flitted between you and Cillian for a moment, before letting go of his anger and sighing wearily. “You’ve never even thought about a superior that way? Someone older than you?” he pressed, obviously joking and trying to lighten the set’s mood. 

You paused, and tried not to look at Cillian, your blatantly gorgeous forty-something co-star who was chosen for this role firstly, because of his stellar acting and secondly, because of how fucking attractive he was. 

His character was a total fucking creep, and you knew casting Cillian had been a calculated choice; all in the name of making the audience’s guard come down to be smacked in the face by his immorality later. He was meant to be charming, handsome, and terribly, totally, off-limits: the object of completely forbidden desire, the line your character was desperate to cross. 

It seemed the same in real life, too: the young inexperienced actress wanting to ignore those societal niceties and pine wholeheartedly over the middle-aged actor with decades of knowledge under his belt. 

You weren’t, like, in love or anything, but you certainly reveled in his presence: he was patient, kind, and completely understanding of your lack of experience, always guiding you through all the steps an actor takes during filming like when to take off hair and makeup, what best to say to family and friends prying for details- all the things, he said, he wished someone told him when he was first starting out. 

You were afraid you two had unknowingly fallen into a mentor-mentee dynamic, but there were always those spare moments, between hearty fits of laughter and silly conversation that you’d never expected to come from such an intimidating man as Cillian, where his rough hands would brush past your waist, gaze dragging up and down your body, sounding sensual and provocative despite nothing dirty leaving his mouth at all. 

He made your insides pulse, especially when your more intimate scenes came about, and you could only have a lusting woman’s pipedream that he felt the same. 

You still remember the first sequence you’d done with him: in the movie, your characters met after-class to make up for a missed exam, and it was the start of their corrupt attraction. Cillian had been pressed against your back, leaning over you to pressuringly peer at the test, large hand gripping your shoulder. The air felt steamy then, his body warm, low voice making you feel lightheaded as he recited his lines. 

You shivered at the remembrance of the moment, coming back to reality, and you answered the director’s question with a vehement shake of the head. 

The director let out a (strained) laugh, and smacked his palm lightly with the script, shoulders slumping. “Okay. Okay, we’ll - we’ll break for today. Take this extra time to imagine, research, anything- just practice the scene, alright? Practice makes perfect.” 

You and Cillian nodded simultaneously, giving eachother a look that just screamed “he’s ridiculous” before tearing away from each other's stare to return to your trailers. 

Later, you were getting ready to go to bed, peeling your freshly showered hair out of a small towel, when there was a knock at your trailer door. 

“One second,” you called out, pulling on your silk sleep shorts. You vaguely registered how awkward it might be to be seen in your pajamas if the director or one of your fellow actors came about, but you were way too tired to care. 

You did care, however, self-consciously crossing your arms and covering your thinly-clothed chest, when you opened the door and there on the steps stood your co-star, Cillian.

Before speaking, he looked you up and down, icy blue eyes gleaming behind an unfamiliar pair of tortoise shell frames. “You goin’ to bed?” he finally asked, tone husky. 

His gaze lingered on the bare skin of your legs for a few seconds longer and you shifted uncomfortably, crossing your ankles together in a poor attempt to hide yourself. 

“What do you need?” you asked briskly, more sharp than you meant it to be. 

“Sorry,” he corrected himself, shaking his head and finally looking you in the eye. “I meant’a come by earlier… got caught up. I know this, ah, sex scene is tripping us up, so…” he trailed off, lifting up the white script he’d been holding behind his back. “Y’up for some practice?”

You blinked rapidly at the simple, innocent request. Mere rehearsal, not some lecherous late-night escapade you’d been dreaming up in your mind. “Oh… yes, of course,” you nodded numbly, moving out of the way to let him step in. 

Only moments later, when he’d perched onto the edge of your vanity — looking uniquely casual in what you assumed was his version of pajamas: baggy gray sweatpants and a fitted, well-worn black t-shirt — did you realize the connotations of rehearsing your sex scene. 

Sure, it was all pre-determined, every word you’d say and every action you’d perform, but still. Saying- and doing, such suggestive things after-hours? That was beyond your dirtiest fantasies.

However, you shook yourself internally: Cillian had come to rehearse the scene with professional intentions. Honestly, he’d probably done so because he was tired of you messing up the scene. He could do his own part masterfully, and you knew that if it’d been a better, more experienced actress by his side, filming would’ve moved on ages ago. 

You took shaky, tentative steps near him, settling on your bed, watching him flip through the script— when he looked up and frowned. 

“What’re you doing? Come here,” he gestured for you to come closer, almost a command. “We don’t have a desk, so we can use your vanity.”

You nodded, biting your lip and nervously complying with his words. “So, we’ll start from the beginning?” you asked, your voice -- and legs -- suddenly feeling terribly weak.

His eyes were still trained on the paper as he answered. “Not necessarily. The sex part s’really the only thing we’re having trouble with, yeah?” 

You gulped, throat dry. “Yeah, I guess so.” 

With that, he chanced one last look at the script, before diving into the scene. His actions were ones you were extremely familiar with, having attempted this scene everyday for at least a week now. 

His body turned to yours, hands coming up to your jaw, and pressing your back onto the table slightly. He held you tightly, and made you look at him, while delivering his lines softly, memorable Irish accent replaced by his character’s generic American one.

Jiltedly, you did the same, poorly remembering what you needed to say and dragging through it like some amateur. “Fuck, sorry,” you cursed suddenly, tearing away from his touch and sighing. 

He gave you a small, careful smile, immediately breaking out of character and taking a step away from the vanity. “No need t’be nervous. Practice makes perfect, right?” 

You snorted at his quoting of the director. “I just… I don’t know what he means by passionate. I’m trying to be professional about this but - but I’ve seriously never been in some steamy love-affair.”

“Can’t really expect that of you, can we? You’re too young, too much’ve a good girl for that kinda ‘ting.” He said, hand coming up to your shoulder, the one where your silk tanktop’s spaghetti strap had slipped off, rubbing it soothingly. 

You practically melted into a puddle at both the pet name and how the rough pads of his fingers brushed against your sensitive skin. You were so entranced you almost whined when he stopped and pulled up your fallen strap, but instead you wordlessly snatched the script that was dropped onto the table and found one of the lines, inhaling sharply and readying yourself. 

Your hand came up to tug on the sleeve of Cillian’s shirt, as dictated by the script. “Sir, please,” you whispered out in your character’s high pitched voice, “I - I… want you to touch me.”

“This is -- wrong. I’m your teacher, and I…” Cillian responded, swiftly back in character, the back of his palm grazing your cheek. “I gotta break your heart, darling.”

You looked up at Cillian, summoning crocodile tears to fill your gaze. “Please. I need you.” Then, one of your clammy hands ran down Cillian’s chest as you spoke, like it did back on set. “I think of you, at night. I soaked through my shorts the day you scolded me.”

You heard Cillian’s breath hitch- his character, you reminded yourself. “Fucking hell… I think of you in class, sweetheart,” he growled out perfectly. 

So far, so good, you thought. It wasn’t awkward, and was already miles better than the lackluster performances you’d given previously. You continued by leaning into Cillian’s touch, making him sit on the vanity— the part of the scene you’d gotten to this morning, before the director called cut.

This time, however, Cillian’s actions differed from the ones he was supposed to perform: instead of petting the crown of your head, his fingers trailed down your hips, sending shivers down your spine.

“I’ll be good for you, sir,” you recited, face growing hot as his hand inched closer to the curve of your ass. “You can do whatever you want to me.”

Cillian’s gaze had darkened now, flitting over your features. He didn’t say his line - or, had at least missed the timing, and you removed your hands from his body worriedly. “Are you alright—“

Before you could finish your sentence, Cillian had grabbed you by the ass, switching your places and setting you down on the edge of the vanity. 

“Cillian!“ you squeaked out, the only thing you could really say as you processed what exactly just happened. Your mind was swimming with confusion — and anticipation — as he stood before you, legs pressing on either side of your knees and trapping you on the vanity. 

“Improv,” he promised quietly in his telltale Irish accent, a sly wink appearing on his sharp features. 

You bit your lip, nodded, and repeated your line. You trusted him to guide you — and the rehearsal — because, as mentioned before, he did these kinds of things often. If he thought you’d act better if you sat on the vanity, you’d sit on the vanity. 

His hand then pet your hair, the other hand coming up to your chin and making you look up at him. “Whatever I want?” he murmured, back on track with the script. 

You bat your lashes at him. “Everything. I’m yours.”

Now, this is where you thought Cillian would stop— because after your line came the kissing and the touching and the heavy petting: all things you thus far hadn’t filmed at all, because you couldn’t even get the dialogue out right. 

Instead, he leaned down and began to press hungry kisses down your neck, making you gasp.

“What are you—“

“Shh,” he demanded softly, “it's all part of the scene, remember?”

You blinked dumbly, mouth opening and closing, unable to register a coherent thought or word. He said it was part of the scene but you’d read that script, and his teeth nipping lightly at your skin was not written anywhere within it.

But, you gulped down your thoughts, and belted out several more of your lines in tandem to his own. With his other hand gripping your thigh so tight you thought it might bruise, you were starting to think that maybe this was one of those lecherous late-night escapades you were dreaming of. 

All you’d been doing was acting, like he’d asked, but still, you could see clear as day how that’d affect him— how easily it could be to succumb. After all, you were just barely restraining yourself from jumping his bones: how could you not, with his gorgeous face just inches away from yours?

Well, acting or not, you’d enjoy every minute of this.

When one of his hands began playing with the waistband of your shorts as he suckled on your pulse, that just right spot on your neck, you couldn’t help the whimper that left your mouth. 

However, the noise seemed to startle him; jumpshock him back to reality, and your suspicions became completely confirmed when he pulled away from you roughly. 

“Fuck, I’m—“ a pained grimace washed over his features, looking you up and down like he just realized what he’d been doing. “I don’t know what came over me, I— shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have come here tonight.”

You stared at him, body disappointed at the lack of touch, watching him press his pink lips into a conflicted white line. “What - what d’you mean?”

His gaze coursed over your every feature, so intently you thought he was admiring your face. “I can’t— we can’t happen. Y’too young, you’re, you’re too…”

“Then we can stop. If that’s what you want,” you murmured coyly, hand coming up to pick a piece of thread off his thin shirt. “But only if you ask. C’mon, say it: I don’t want you and I want this to stop.”

He groaned, biting his lip. “Don’t do that. I can’t do that.”

“Do what?” You tilted your head to the side. 

“Tease. Because you know I won’t tell you to stop. ‘Cause I won’t be able to fucking control m’self,” he grumbled, before pressing a desperate, deep kiss to your lips, pulling you off the vanity and continuing down your chest.

“Then don’t. Take me for everything I have,” you whined, following his every move and manhandling touch. 

He breathed heavily between kisses. “Saying those kinds’a words with that pretty voice of yours… fuck, you’re doing things to me.” 

Your hands were trailing all over his body, and then you tugged his shirt off, desperate to feel him. He had similar thoughts, fingers dipping into your silk shorts and petting your hot mound. 

“Need you,” you panted, and, at your words, he suddenly tore off your silk shorts and panties in one clean go, making you shiver.

He then sat down on your vanity chair and roughly grabbed you by the hips to place yourself onto one of his thighs. The thick fabric of his sweatpants, taking in your wetness like a sponge, made you wince.

“Go on then,” he demanded darkly, “get y’self off on my fucking thigh. Show me how bad you need me.”

You bit your lip, face burning with shame at the order. But there was an aching need in your gut, and the way he crossed his arms, watching and waiting for you to get the hell on with it, had you clenching around his thigh.

Your hands gripped onto his shoulders, and you began slowly rutting against him, the soft fabric of his pants doing poor work for pleasuring your core. You pressed your face into his shoulder, screwed up at the lack of friction. 

“Can’t do it,” you whined, “Please.” 

He rolled his eyes. “You said you needed me. You’ve got me,” he gestured to his thigh, “so get to work.” Then, he suddenly flexed, making an unwarranted mewl leave your mouth.

You wanted nothing more than his fucking cock, but here you were, pathetically pleasuring yourself on his thigh until he allowed otherwise. You nodded resignedly, and dug your fingernails into his shoulders, starting to set a steady pace of grinding down on him, slowly building up the heat within your insides. 

You were moaning now, vigorously dragging your hips against him harder, needier, feeling the pressure in your cunt grow hotter and more rampant. 

“Y’hear that?” He asked, one of his fingers tilting your chin back up to face him. “D’you even realize how fucking delicious you sound, all needy f’me?”

You nodded, but weren’t really paying attention: you were closer than ever, just moments away from falling off the edge— when Cillian stopped you. 

“Stop,” he spoke, voice filled with sheer lust, and you whimpered at the abrupt loss of momentum. Then, he got up, holding you against him by the waist, looking down at his sweatpants. “You made such a mess… soaked all over m’pants.”

You didn’t — no, couldn’t respond to his musings, pressing your thighs together in an attempt to return friction to your needy pussy, biting down on your lip to muffle your breathy pants. 

He noticed this, however, smirking and quickly pressing you stomach down onto the vanity. You caught a glimpse of yourself for the first time since your shower, and you flushed with shame: your eyes were heavy-lidded and dilated, lips pink and slick with drool, your brows in a perpetual knit.

You looked fucking filthy, and when you felt Cillian press his thick head to your entrance, something you hadn’t noticed he’d pulled out, too enraptured in your dirty expression, you shut your eyes. 

You were suddenly so much more aware of the situation: you’d fucked yourself silly on your co-stars thigh, the co-star who was twice your age. He now knew you weren’t a talented aspiring actress, no, you were just a desperate little thing begging to be fucked. 

“Hey, hey,” He tutted in mock-disappointment, “open your eyes, and fucking watch yourself. It’ll be good for our scene.”

You whimpered helplessly, obeying him and fluttering your eyes open, as he pushed his cock past your dripping folds inch by inch. 

“Oh my god,” you cried out when he finally pressed all the way in. You felt so full, stretched to the brim with his hardened cock, so deep his balls touched your sticky clit.

“So fucking wet,” he commented, chuckling darkly behind you. You were totally slick, helping him enter you faster, but his cock was still a foreign intrusion to your inexperienced cunt: you were young, and had never been the type to “get around” — at least not with the intentions of getting fucked so much you could take any length of dick easily. 

You clenched around him, a groan leaving his mouth at the increased pressure around his cock, and he snapped into you, making you bounce forward as your lips parted with a sweet moan. 

You’d been focussed on his face, in the mirror, but Cillian’s hand suddenly tangled through your hair, grabbing a fistful of it and lifting your head to face yourself. “I told you to fucking watch yourself,” he spat, gripping your hair tightly. “you’re the reason we can’t wrap up, so do your job and fuckin’ practice.”

With that, Cillian started pounding into you, digging the rough pads of his fingers into your hip, and you would’ve protested such a fast progression — having been given barely any time to get used to his long cock — but your expression was even worse than before, if that was even possible. 

Your mouth was open, tongue out and panting like a fucking dog, your lustfully sticky spit spilling down your chin to your chest, and your eyes were rolling into the back of your head with each hearty thrust Cillian delivered you. The sounds you were making weren’t helping your embarrassment either, all unintelligible mewls and needy whines for his cock. 

“You’ve wanted me for so long, haven’t you? I always knew what a filthy desperate girl you were, pressing up against me during shooting… those naughty hands on my thighs,” he snickered. 

“Needed you in me so bad,” you whimpered, nodding enthusiastically, barely able to register what you were doing now with the pleasure washing over you and clouding your senses. Your back was arching into him, sucking in his cock and never wanting him to leave despite the mind-breaking ecstasy that was coming from his pounding. 

“Just look at your dirty fuckin’ face… so pathetic.” he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek; sweet and lovely, a stark juxtaposition to his unrelenting rutting and degrading words. 

You whined at his words, but you knew they were true: you’d never seen yourself get fucked, always too busy with, well, getting fucked, but seeing yourself in the mirror like this had you unexpectedly hotter than before. There was just something about it, your face unabashedly contorting around the pleasure, Cillian’s hands snaking up your body as he rammed into you in the background. 

Kind of like your own personal porno, you thought offhandedly, and you wondered how it’d affect you if you filmed yourself. Hopefully, with Cillian. 

His other hand then came up to your folds, spreading them apart so he could see himself disappear into your hole. “Fuck, your cunt’s so perfect,” he growled, his head falling back, losing himself in the pleasure. 

The orgasm building in your gut wasn’t like the one when you’d been grinding down on his thick thigh, no, it came faster, making you sweat and your knees shake. You wanted more, and you gasped out “faster,” and “harder,” to Cillian, needing him in the stick spongy spot deep in your cunt. 

“Please,” you begged without any expectation of a real answer or action, “please, Cillian, please.”

He did go faster, though, to your apparent shock, both hands coming to your thighs to steady himself. “So needy,” he grumbled, pushing himself deeper and more swiftly into you, feeling how deliciously your fleshy walls tightened around his new pace. 

With that, your high came just as quick, hitting you like a fucking freight train and making you scream out his name. Your orgasm wrecked you, made your vision go white and your thoughts stutter to a complete halt, and you vaguely made out Cillian’s proud hum, whispering “Good girl,” in your ear. 

When you came to, your head was hanging low, your eyes blown out, lips puffy. Cillian was still thrusting into your worn-out pussy, but it was more jilted, shaky and needy. 

“Come in me,” you pleaded suddenly, gripping the vanity to keep your trembling legs up, “fill me up, please, make your come spill out of me.”

“Good god, girl,” he groaned, pounding one last thrust into you before letting go, his cock pulsing around your wet core. He was pressed up to you so deep you could feel him shoot his load right into your cervix, and you grinned weakly, a sweet image of you: knocked up with his kid, your cunt so young and fertile you’d get pregnant from just about anything from him, entering your mind. 

After a moment, he slipped his softening cock out of your filthy cunt and picked you up by the waist to set you down on the vanity and keep you from falling onto the floor. 

“Thank you,” you mumbled, looking up at him through your lashes. You then bit your lip, feeling his thick load of creamy come ooze out of your used hole onto your vanity. 

He noticed too, letting out a satisfied groan, spreading your legs lightly, before collecting himself on his finger and pushing his come back into your cunt. “Such a good girl,” he reiterated, going back to being sweet and petting your hair, doting on your weak form, looking deep into your eyes. 

You swooned at his delicate actions. “Is this a good time to say I like you?” 

He laughed, all adoringly. “It’s as good a time as any. I like you, too, if it’s any consolation.” 

“But you, y’know… you said I was too young,” you reminded him, frowning slightly. 

He sighed, gaze drifting away nervously for a moment before coming back to you. “That I did, but, well… if you wanna take this old man for a ride before I keel over,” he shrugged.

You couldn’t help the laugh that belted out of you, his words so ridiculous and completely not based in reality. “Oh, sure,” you said, shaking your head, lips still in an amused tilt, “you’re mine, old man.”

Before he could speak, probably say another stupid joke, your hands wrapped around his neck and you pulled him toward you, pressing a soft kiss to his plump lips. 

“I like you like you, okay?” You whispered, sounding incredibly juvenile but twice as heartfelt, your tone wavering and self-conscious. You were bearing your heart on your sleeve here, okay, acknowledging feelings you thought should never come to light. 

His hands came up to your face, gently holding you. “Good thing I like you like you, too.”

ii.

“Cut!” The director called, and you swore you felt your heart drop to the floor. Fuck, you thought, mind racing, what went wrong this time? Was it the kissing, or the hands in the hair?

However, the director came up to you and Cillian and let out an uncharacteristic shriek of delight. “Perfection,” he said simply, bordering on catatonic with how content he was. 

Your shoulders slumped with relief, and you leaned into Cillian, who was subtly dancing his fingers across your thigh. “It’s finished?” you asked, breathless with excitement.

The director nodded. “That was electric, needy, tense, delicious, passionate, so, so passionate,” he continued with a gasp, hands clasping together tightly.  “You are two of the most amazing actors I have ever worked with— you are incredibly talented, so convincing I’d have thought you did sleep together.” 

You preened at his praise, but not without looking up at Cillian, meeting his gaze and barely keeping your expression happy and neutral and not at all warm at the thought of the other night's events. 

As the director went off rambling about the utter masterpiece the movie was to be, Cillian trailed behind you off the set, murmuring lowly in your ear, “I guess practice does make perfect.”

[glotoru]

ooh baby, ooh baby, i’m in love | eren jaeger.

the note 𐦍 i’ve recently been thinking about a successful, older (early to mid thirties), soft spoken eren who lives to spoil the woman of his dreams—so i’m gonna share this with y’all too. i’m actually just projecting our relationship. not proud of the ending but wtv. part two here. inspired by west coast, lana del rey.

contains 𐦍 nsfw, fem!reader, stupidly rich!eren, established relationship, vaginal sex, mating press, cervix kisses, use of pet names (princess, baby, my wife, the usual yk), unprotected sex, breeding, squirting, softie eren, mild body worship, size kink, hand on stomach while fucking mhm, i love you’s exchanged, praise kink, eren talks to your pussy while he’s in it, i’m thinking black reader but it’s all subjective babes: if you like it, read it!!

truth be told, eren jaeger doesn’t believe he has much to live for.

he’s kept his circle small for all of these ongoing years; with the occasional extension of acquaintances from work dinners, or christmas parties—though, he preferred to slip away from such events when eyes weren’t so…watchful. he likes to think his social battery has drained over the course of his life. looking back at his angstful teenage years, fourteen year old most likely wouldn’t recognize the person he is today.

his once intense nature that resembled an overbearing presence of loud determination turned calm—steadfast and slow to visible anger (with the exception of a passive aggressive comment here and there from simple annoyance). the short hair that once barely covered his nape now fell to his broad shoulders, however, he preferred to keep it up—maintaining appearances while keeping it convenient. the smaller five foot six body grew to an intimidating lean six foot four instead.

however, those things were quite trivial; he knew such changes happened with growth and eventual maturity.

but for a significant chunk of his life, eren was never the greatest with women. he was oblivious—blind to the wandering eyes full of admiration from girls in his classes and workplace—and nose deep in his books. he wouldn’t rest until he was on top of his grades; which he had no problem with. His emphasis on success failed him when it came to the dating scene; to say the least he was shy—and married to his work as well.

but on top of all this, eren was a patient man, and good things always comes to those who wait.

and when a dangerously beautiful woman comes wandering into his life on the street outside of an office dinner he gracefully slipped away from, asking him for an extra five dollars to help pay for her cab home from a no-show date—a woman that has him battling the slew of warning alarms sounding away in his usually zen mind and redefining what he thought was himself—he knows that he’s waited long enough.

simply put, he’s a man of his craft; dedicated to two things. his work, and his wife.

His wife—the phrase has his brain melting into pure grey matter that spills out his body in the form of love. To even think he has the opportunity to refer to you as such is priceless in itself. eren didn’t believe he could love—let alone love this hard. you ask him to run, he’ll say how far; jump—how high?

you’ve changed him—ever since he offered to drop you off in his sleek black mercedes benz parked somewhere by the valet and you giggled in response, saying ‘i’m not usually so trusting of strangers’ will the slightest glint of curiosity in your bright eyes.

and somewhere in between the months, his ten hour workdays turned to six, important software development meetings got pushed back for convenience, the accumulating days of paid time off started being used, for once, his assistant could do their job, and his new focus was you.

diamonds and pearls, nails and hair, dinners on boats and vacations on beaches, shopping sprees on his black card and all of his devotion towards you—only you.

eren…he’s a worshipper—it doesn’t take much for him to get on his knees for you. he’s not ashamed, if anything, he’s proud. he likes to say that anything that’s his, is yours; so who are you to deny what he gives you?

that’s another thing he oh so loves about you—you readily take everything he can offer. you let him take care of you, and he wouldn’t want it any other way; you’re his wife after all.

his wife, his wife.

“my wife…” eren mumbles to himself as he buries his face into the crook of your perfumed neck. the pronounced scent makes his head spin, you can’t fathom how in love with you this man is. as his large hands engulf your own, he’s met with the texture of your wedding ring that cost him over twenty grand, the one you cried over when you saw it in his hands offering it to you—but eren doesn’t think it does his adoration for you enough justice.

he prefers to show you.

while there’s no doubt that material items and dream homes are things you like to receive—there’s nothing better than the way he has you now, one leg resting atop his shoulder and the other barely slung around his waist as he steadily ruts his hips into your own.

oh, how could you be so beautiful? splayed out on the bed like a wicked man’s deepest desires and dreams; the one he secretly lusts for from across the room with no hopes to introduce himself because you’re just so out of his league. your hair is messily draped over the silk pillows, all remnants of your lipgloss/lipstick gone from your parted lips and instead smudged on his own, the gold necklace with his diamond initial was falling into the dip in your neck, and you were gazing at him with need. pure, heartfelt need.

your body arches towards him, manicured hands trailing towards your own chest to play with your nipples that hardened from the low temperature of the room. “i need you eren, make me feel you—i want it.” your voice is smooth, accompanied with a small whine that reminds him just how spoiled you are, and how it’s all his fault.

but he couldn’t care less—you deserve it for wandering into his life to make you his own.

“i know princess, i know.” he knows damn well you need him, he knows, he knows—he’s repeating it as he peppers a kiss to your jewelled ankle before pressing down on the back of your thigh to steady himself.

eren fucks like he loves—endlessly and hard.

maybe that’s why the way he bullies your pussy while bottoming out has you grasping at the threads of the sheets and chanting his name like a hymn followed by prayer. he lets your cunt feel every bit of him, the ridges—veins, down to the last inch. he’s terrifyingly big, another thing you love about him.

his dick feels like it’s mushing your insides, curving up against your spongy walls that oh so desperately tighten around him. every thrust is harder than his last, and the way the trimmed hair resting above his base brushes against your clit provides all the extra stimulation that has your head rolling to the side. your uncontrolled moans turn to sobs when you feel his tip tickle your cervix—and boy does it make him a rejuvenated man.

“look at me.” his words barely register as syllables in your clouded mind—you keep your head turned, eyes focused shut as your body shakes upwards from the fervour of his unrelenting tempo. there’s a lot of things eren can have, and you not watching the way his slick covered dick slips in and out of your weeping pussy isn’t one of them. “you have to look at me pretty girl.” his tone is soft but firm, thick fingers taking your chin in his hands and turning you towards him once again.

“see how well you’re taking me? all of it.” he gives you a million dollar smile, hinting for you to watch where the two of you connect. “your pretty cunt just wants it so bad, right?”

“oh, eren…” it’s always a sudden surprise how soiled his mouth can get at times like this. heeding his request, you watch his cock disappear in your folds—and you sight of it has you fluttering around him like a whore.

“you were made for me, weren’t you? prettiest sight i’ve ever seen.” you’ve heard his praises a multitude of times, having him ramble on about fucking you so much your walls moulded to fit him like a tight glove, only that now, he’s saying it to your pussy instead.

“only you ‘ren, was made just for you.” you babble out, feverishly bucking your hips up to meet his ruts.

when your eyes finally rip away from below and back up to his face, the look he wears has your cunt melting like putty. with furrowed brows, a dip in his forehead and a bitten lip, he watches your body move with each fuck. even in such a sinful position, you were just so divine.

almost subconsciously, his ringed hand moves from your hip and over to your torso, gliding over your pierced belly and stopped at your lower stomach, “I’m right here baby.” gently, he applies pressure to the spot, making your eyes blow open as you moan in response. the feeling gives you butterflies—ones that go straight to your clit and stimulate the nerves in your shaky legs.

“cummin—eren i’m cumming!” you’re rambling, scrambling to push his hand away from your belly, but it’s all too late, and eren knows that well. how could he not? your body is a temple, he’s explored every inch of it, and the sudden vice grip your walls have you him and periodic throb of your cunt is all too telling. your orgasm is drawn out, legs spazzing around your entranced husband, “mm, oh-fuck! yesyesyes eren, don’t stop!”

oh, aren’t you just perfect. his eyes soften when he watches how your mouth hangs open in a silent scream, only to capture it in a languid and sloppy kiss, teeth grazing your plump lips and sucking on them like a sweet. you whine he pulls himself away from your body completely, instead he takes the time to tack his thumb to your puffy clit, rubbing feint circles and the occasional attempted heart on the bud. he always does this, coaxing out the last of your orgasm with nimble fingers that you dream about

“you gonna let me take good care of you?” he asks softly between hushed breaths while grabbing hold of both your legs and hoisting them over his shoulders. helplessly, all you can do is nod; you’re in a trance at the very sight of him. his defined torso is illuminated by the back light of one of the many lamps in your bedroom, his hair is slipping from its captive elastic band, the grip of his hands on your ankles sends searing hot pulses straight to your sensitive clit.

he gives himself a few good pumps, sliding his length between your folds. your wetness aids him in bottoming out once again, but your sensitivity has you squirming in his hold. “gotta stay put baby.” he marvels, talking you into submission, “that’s my girl.”

his praises are followed by the shift of his hands down to the back of your thighs, they gently rub the plush skin before pushing them down to meet your chest. while there are some circumstances where looking down at you sparks something within him, eren likes to be eye to eye with you when he’s balls deep—turns him on even more being in such close proximity with such a captivating woman.

you squeal from the uncomfortable burn in your hamstring from being folded in half with the additional feeling of eren’s body weight on your own. you swear that you can feel your heart palpitating in your ears as you feverishly clench around him. “it’s too much! can’t take it, can’t take it!”

“of course you can, you know you can, your pussy takes everything i give it.” eren speaks between juts, pressing your knees to your shoulder blades as he pistons into you without any regard for decency. his thrust feel like a hammer, knocking your body into the memory foam mattress you begged him to buy.

stars cloud your eyes as he wraps himself tighter around you, head in the side of your neck as he peppers kisses across your skin. your pants and gasps are loud, amplifying the sounds of slapping skin and balls hitting the fat of your ass. his favourite part is when you dig your nails into his back, leaving cresent shaped imprints and jagged lines across it like a painter with a canvas; scars of your love.

deep groans fill your ear, soft and sweet; all eren can ramble about is you—how good you feel, how quick you can make him unravel like a ball of string, how lucky he is to have you in his life—the list goes on.

“i love you—fuck, i love you so much baby, you treat me so well.” with his declaration of love, his pace seems to increase, fucking you dumb and leaving you to heave for whatever air is left to breathe.

“i love you too, so much.” your eyes scramble around in your haywire brain, overloaded by the repeated feeling of the jackhammering going on in your walls and the non-stop cervix kisses he gives you. “it’s all yours, eren; you deserve it, you deserve this pussy. you married this, have it.”

eren jaeger doesn’t believe he’s deserving of much; has he earned things? yes. but you…laying beneath him, telling him he deserves you? it makes him never want to leave—not that he would dream of doing so in the first place.

he does deserve it—your words make his brain malfunction. he deserves it. fuck, you might just be the death of him.

you’re crying for him, grasping at any part of his body possible to get him closer to you than physically possible. your tighten around his base once more, and your hand flies down to messily prod at your clit in an attempt to play with it.

meanwhile, eren’s unrelenting pace falters; that man knows he’s going to cum soon, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t do it with you. so he pleads with you to give him one more—telling you that you’ve got another one bundled up in there for him. to say it’s true is unknown, but your body listens to eren, and miraculously whatever he believes will happen comes to fruition.

but your body is delicate—everyone knows delicate things break under pressure. with the unrelenting strain and stretch his dick gives your walls, the tight feeling in your core, and aching numbness in your legs, your buildup feels much more violent—ready to release all built up tension given to you by your husband.

“eren—keep on going like this and i’m gonna make a mess!” you fuss around, hand reaching to gently push his torso away in fear you may soil the freshly made sheets.

“that’s the goal.” he states as a matter of factly, brows furrowing as a suppressed groan bubbles up from his chest at the thought: pretty little face going stupid and clawing at anything within reach as you writhe and cum all over his torso and lower body. you can’t make him budge now that he’s a determined man.

his strokes grow sloppy but powerful, curved cock repeatedly ramming into your spongy spot that force your plush walls to grip around him, “you’re eating me up here, love.” he mumbles, moaning into your mouth in the disguise of a messy kiss.

the last roll that tips you over the rocky edge is a shaky one, the last one he could give before emptying himself into you. it’s thick and hot and you feel it fill you as you twitch underneath him and cover his abdomen with your juices. wordlessly, his hands reach for yours as he stills; soft lips peppering the lining of skin on your cheek.

eren jaeger knows that change is inevitable—it comes with time. but eren jaeger also knows one thing will stay the same; his love and adoration for the pretty girl laying below him.

[theonottsbxtch]

it's ok im ok | LN4

an: it's ok im ok by tate mcrae is out and i had this idea the minute i heard it the first time so i've been writing this the last two hours. this was very rushed so please be nice, slight oscar x yn (no use of yn)

written and smau

face claim: pintrest and queen t8

newgirlfriend just posted

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oh he's so perfect

**coments have been restricted**

When she’d first broken up with Lando, she’d been distraught. He was the love of her life, or at least she’d thought. For over a month, she’d spent every passing moment reminiscing on all the good parts she could remember of the relationship, but as that month came to a close, the fog began to lift. 

There was no good.

At first there was, there had been the dates, the gifts, the flowers and the continuous travelling alongside her. The texts of ‘I miss you’ and ‘I love you’ at least once a day had diminished into a ‘gn’ and ‘gm’ eleven months into the relationship. 

The affection that once felt so constant had turned into something routine, something obligatory. She’d ignored the signs at first, brushing off the growing distance as just a phase, believing things would eventually go back to how they were in the beginning. But they didn’t.

She remembered the nights when he would cancel plans at the last minute, claiming he was too tired from work, yet his social media was filled with stories of nights out with his friends. The times he’d forgotten important moments — her promotion at work, her 21st birthday, their anniversary. Every time, he had a perfectly reasonable excuse that she had willingly swallowed, desperate to hold onto the image of the man she’d thought he was.

The excuses, the half-hearted apologies, and the lack of effort slowly chipped away at her, until one day, she woke up feeling emptier than ever, wondering where she’d gone wrong. She’d blamed herself, convinced she was being too demanding, too needy.

But now, with some distance, she could see it all for what it was: she’d been in love with an idea of him, a projection of her own desires. The real Lando was far from the prince charming she had made him out to be. He was just a guy who knew how to charm his way through life, good at saying the right things but never following through.

She realised now that the man she’d loved never truly existed; he was a mirage, built from wishful thinking and her own desperation to be loved.

So when Mclaren invited her to celebrate the new season, she took it knowing she was a mature adult, after all he’d moved on. So could she.

“She’s posted him again,” Her best friend spoke from the sofa where she’d been waiting for her to touch up her makeup. “Caption is ‘Oh he’s so perfect’ with some flowers and a teddy bear.”

“Poor girl.” She muttered to herself as she applied some gloss. “She’s still in the honeymoon phase,”

Her best friend hummed and laughed as she continued to scroll through the photos.

Unlike many ex girlfriends, she didn't hate the new girl, no if anything she pitied the next girl and the inevitable one after that, it wasn’t their fault that he acted like the perfect gentleman at the start.

She sighed, putting the lip gloss down and meeting her own eyes in the mirror. "I mean, she’s just like I was," she added, more to herself than to her friend. "I remember thinking he was my perfect match, too. All those little gestures, the compliments, the way he always seemed to know exactly what I wanted to hear. I fell for it, hard."

Her friend glanced up from the phone, a knowing look in her eyes. "Yeah, but you saw through it eventually. And you got out."

She nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah, I did. And I’m not gonna pretend that was easy, but I did it. I’ve just gotta hope she figures it out sooner rather than later."

Her friend grinned. "I bet you’re dying to go up to her tonight and give her a friendly warning."

She laughed at that, shaking her head. "Oh, no. I’m not getting involved unless the opportunity comes up . She won’t listen anyway; no one does when they’re in the thick of it. Besides, it's not my place."

Her friend tilted her head, watching her closely. "You’re really okay with all this?"

She paused for a moment, considering her answer. Was she really okay? Seeing those photos had stirred something in her, but it wasn’t jealousy. It was more like a dull ache, a memory of a wound that had already healed. "I think so," she said finally, smiling a little. "I mean, it still sucks to see, but not in the way it used to. I guess... I’m more relieved than anything. Relieved that it’s not me anymore."

Her friend nodded in approval. "That’s growth, babe. And tonight, we’re gonna celebrate that growth with some champagne and dancing. No thinking about exes, just fun."

She laughed, grabbing her bag and turning to face her friend. "Deal. Now, let’s get out of here before I change my mind."

They headed out the door, a cool breeze greeting them as they stepped into the evening air. As they walked to the car, she glanced at her phone one more time, catching a glimpse of Lando’s face on her social media feed. His arm was around the new girl, that same easy smile on his lips, the same charm in his eyes. But this time, it didn’t sting. It didn’t make her chest tight or her stomach drop. She felt...nothing.

“His teammate was fitter anyway,” At first she hadn’t heard it but when she did, she turned to face her friend, “What? I’m saying what we all saw.”

“I’m not stirring that pot.”

“You’re not but I am.” Her friend laughed as she pulled out of the parking lot, “Think about it, he’ll be there tonight, freshly broken up. Maybe you two can bond over that.”

Her eyes widened as she looked at her friend, “He broke up with his girlfriend?”

“I knew you were interested!”

She rolled her eyes, feeling a flush creep up her neck. "I’m not interested," she insisted, but the hint of a smile played at the corners of her lips, betraying her. "It’s just… surprising, that’s all."

Her friend shot her a knowing look. “Oh, come on. I’ve seen how you look at him. All those race weekends, sneaking glances when you thought no one was watching. You can’t deny it.”

She laughed, a light, genuine sound she hadn’t heard from herself in a while. "You’re imagining things. Besides, just because Lando's teammate is single doesn’t mean I’m ready to jump into something new."

Her friend raised an eyebrow. “Who said anything about jumping? Maybe just dip a toe in. Have fun for once. You deserve it."

She hesitated, biting her lip as the car sped through the city streets. "I don’t know… it just feels too soon."

"Too soon? Or maybe the perfect time?" her friend challenged. "It’s not about replacing Lando. It’s about letting yourself feel good again."

She stared out the window, watching the city lights blur into a kaleidoscope of colours. Her friend was right. She had spent so long grieving over Lando, replaying every mistake and wondering where she went wrong. Maybe it was time to let someone else in, even just a little.

“Okay," she finally said, her voice steady. "If I see him tonight, I’ll talk to him. No expectations, no pressure. Just… a conversation."

Her friend grinned. “Now, that’s the spirit. And who knows? Maybe you’ll find out he’s more than just a pretty face.”

She laughed again, this time with more ease. “Or maybe I’ll find out he’s just another disaster waiting to happen.”

Her friend chuckled, “Only one way to find out.”

By the time they’d pulled up to the club and handed the keys to the valet, there was a solid blush on her cheeks. After all, she had spent the rest of the car ride looking at Oscar’ photos. 

She felt the bass of the music underneath her feet as she and her friend handed their ID’s to the bouncer, waiting as he checked their names off the list.

“Right let me find some virgin cocktail, you go find Oscar.”

“Absolutely not, I’m getting a drink first.”

When they reached the bar, they eyed up the drinks board, everything seemed so tempting. Starting easy she ordered herself a vodka coke. No point trying to talk to Oscar if she was sloshed. 

“Your replacement, 12 o’clock.” She heard her friend shout over her drink.

She turned around, subtly glancing in the direction her friend had pointed. There she was, the new girl — bright-eyed, smiling, and looking like she had the world at her feet. Her heart clenched for a moment, a tiny pang of something she didn’t want to name, but then she felt it ease just as quickly. It wasn’t jealousy; it was almost… nostalgia.

The girl was everything she remembered herself being — full of hope, dressed to impress, standing a little too close to him as if she needed to mark her territory. And there he was, Oscar, just as charming as ever. Leaning in, whispering something that made the girl laugh loudly, the kind of laugh that begged for attention.

Her friend nudged her side. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said, swallowing a sip of her drink. “Just feeling pity, really.”

“Well,” her friend prompted, “you gonna say hi or what?”

She took a deep breath. “I think I’ll let them have their moment. Besides, I’m not in the mood to play the ex-girlfriend card tonight.”

Her friend snorted. “What, you don’t want to ruin their Instagram-perfect night?”

She grinned. “Tempting, but no.” She took another sip, feeling the warmth of the alcohol begin to relax her nerves. “Let’s dance, yeah?”

“Don’t have to ask me twice.”

Grabbing her phone off the bar and shoving it down her bra, she took her friend’s hand and brought her to the middle of the dance floor, some Flo Rida song making the walls shake. 

Moving to the beat of the music, she looked as her friend began to dance on her, pulling her hand on her hip as they danced in sync enjoying the moment and ignoring the fact that she could see Lando looking at her and not his new girlfriend.

She felt the bass thump through her chest, each beat syncing with her pulse as she lost herself in the music. Her friend’s laughter was infectious, and she couldn’t help but grin, the tension in her shoulders easing as she swayed to the rhythm.

Lando’s gaze was heavy on her, almost burning through the crowd. She could feel it, a mix of curiosity and maybe a hint of regret. She didn’t look directly at him — not yet. Instead, she let her movements become more carefree, twirling with her friend and raising her arms in the air as the chorus hit. The whole room seemed to pulse with the beat, and she revelled in the feeling of letting go, if only for a moment.

Her friend leaned in, her voice barely audible over the music. “He’s staring,” she said with a sly smile.

She shrugged, flipping her hair back with a casual flick. “Let him,” she replied, her voice loud enough to be heard over the music but still cool and collected.

And then, on a whim, she spun around, facing him across the crowded room. Their eyes met, and she held his gaze for a heartbeat longer than she intended. His expression was unreadable — a mix of surprise, maybe a flicker of something else. But she didn’t want to decipher it; she didn’t care to.

Instead, she raised her drink in a mock toast, a sly smile playing at her lips, before turning her back to him again. She felt a surge of confidence, a quiet thrill in knowing she no longer needed his validation or attention. She was here to have fun, to enjoy the night, not to relive old memories or make a scene.

Her friend noticed the exchange and leaned in again. “You sure you don’t want to give him a piece of your mind?”

She laughed, a real, genuine laugh that felt good in her chest. “Nah, he can watch if he wants. It just shows he’s not as over it as I am.”

She turned her attention back to her friend, giving her a playful spin. “Anyway, I have a much hotter date.”

This time her friend laughed loudly, “Uh huh you do, I’ll go get us refills.”

“I’ll come with,” she offered, even though she was beginning to feel herself in the middle of the crowd.

“No, you just stay here.” Her friend gave her a final wink before disappearing into the crowd, leaving her alone on the dancefloor. The bass of the music pulsed through her, making her heart race in time with the beat. That’s when she spotted Oscar — tall, confident, with a warm smile that seemed to cut through the throng of people. He was one of the few people who had been genuinely kind to her since she’d met him, and there was a sense of magnetic energy between them.

He extended his hand with a charming grin. “May I have this dance?”

Without missing a beat, she placed her hand in his, feeling a thrill of excitement. They moved closer, the heat of their bodies melding together as the music swelled. He guided her into a slow, sensual dance, their movements smooth and synchronised. His hands rested lightly on her hips, and she could feel the tension of his touch, a mix of confidence and tenderness. Overlapping her hands on his, she tightened his grip on her hips.

As they danced, she felt a rush of freedom, the worries and old feelings from earlier dissolving into the rhythm. She glanced to her side and caught a glimpse of Lando across the room. He was watching them, his expression a mixture of surprise and frustration. For a moment, their eyes locked, and she saw the flash of jealousy in his gaze. She raised an eyebrow slightly, a smirk playing on her lips as if to say, “Look at me now.”

Returning her focus to the Oscar, she let herself be completely immersed in the moment. His touch was intoxicating, his eyes locked on hers with an intensity that made her feel desired and cherished. They moved together effortlessly, each step and sway adding to the intimate connection they were building on the dancefloor.

Oscar leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. “You look amazing tonight,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. “I mean you always have, but tonight things are different aren’t they?”

She shivered at his words, the tension between them palpable. She responded with a soft laugh, her fingers trailing up to his neck as she whispered back, “They are, aren’t they?”

As the song reached its climax, they pulled closer, their bodies pressed together in a way that felt both exhilarating and soothing. She let herself be lost in the sensation, feeling a newfound sense of liberation and sensuality. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them in their own private dance.

The song ended, but they stayed close, their breaths mingling. “I’m going to the bathroom, but I’ll see you here for round two?” she said, trying to be heard over the music.

“I won’t go anywhere,” he replied with a teasing smile, his voice like velvet. She wanted to linger in his warmth a moment longer, but she knew she needed to regroup. The minute she snapped out of her trance, she found the bar and her friend, dragging her to the nearest bathroom.

Finding the handicap stall, she pulled them inside and slumped against the wall, grabbing her drink out of her friend’s hand.

“Fuck me,” she whispered, her voice a mix of exhilaration and happiness.

“I am not Oscar, but I’m sure he would if you asked nicely,” her friend quipped, trying to lighten the mood.

She let out a tired laugh, shaking her head. “Not what I meant. I just… I don’t know. It’s weird being back in this place. Wow. That dance - I.”

Her friend gave her a knowing look. “At least give me a heads up if I’m going to drive home alone tonight.”

As she took another sip of her drink, she heard the bathroom door swing open, followed by the sound of animated giggling. It was Lando's new girlfriend, chattering excitedly with a friend. Her voice carried through the thin bathroom walls, brimming with admiration.

“Oh my god, he’s just so perfect!” she gushed. “I can’t believe how lucky I am. He’s got everything—charm, looks, and he’s so sweet. I feel like I’m in a dream.”

Her friend raised an eyebrow, glancing at her. “Are you okay?”

Suppressing a laugh, she stood up and pushed open the door to the cubicle. As she emerged, she locked eyes with Lando’s new girlfriend in the mirror.

“Hey there,” she said, her voice smooth yet edged with cool detachment. “So, which version of him is perfect, the off-season version or the regular season?”

The new girlfriend blinked, visibly startled. Her smile faltered, and she looked momentarily confused. “Uh, I don’t really understand what you mean.”

She could sense her best friend trying hard not to laugh behind her. Shrugging lightly, she maintained a mix of sympathy and detachment in her gaze. “Just a thought. Sometimes people have different sides to them, you know? What you’re seeing now might not be the whole picture.”

Before the new girlfriend could respond, her friend besides her chimed in . “You’re just jealous.”

She turned, a knowing smile on her lips. “Oh, sweetie, it’s okay. I’m perfectly fine. After all, I had him first.” Without giving the new girlfriend a chance to reply, she gently but firmly guided her friend out of the bathroom and back into the club.

As they re-entered the lively atmosphere, her friend grinned at her. “That was hot.”

She chuckled, feeling a sense of empowerment and closure. “Glad you think so. Let’s enjoy the rest of the night.”

ynprivate just posted

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, yourbestfriend and 38 others

it's ok im ok

**comments have been restricted**

[floatysparrowthing]

birthday party in august, but you were born 19th of june

A no-powers, modern AU one shot with Great Gatsby vibes!

Summary:

It’s been five years since Chuuya and Dazai published their novel, Soukoku, four since they stopped being writing partners, and two since Chuuya realized he’s in love with said ex-writing partner. Five months since they were contacted about making a Soukoku movie, four since they met in person for the first time after the split, and two since he inadvertently ruined Dazai’s birthday and made an even bigger ass of himself than normal.

But now Chuuya is determined to make Dazai his and accepts help from an unlikely ally.

~

“Boy troubles, is it?” Fitzgerald asks.

“Chuuya’s trying to get his long lost love to notice him,” Albatross says, grinning. Chuuya kicks him under the table.

“Ah. I understand how hard it can be, dealing with matters of the heart,” Fitzgerald says, sounding sympathetic. “Before Zelda and I got married, I fear I made quite a fool of myself. I learned that sometimes, all you need is the right setting.”

“The right setting?” Chuuya ventures.

“A party.” Fitzgerald smiles at him over his glass.

Party?

~

Thank you so much to @shrimpkini for the wonderful art! There’s a second piece in the fic as well 😉

And happy birthday to Dazai! Even though most of this fic takes place after his birthday 😅

I’ve been working on this fic for a few weeks and am so excited to share it, so please let me know what you think if you read it! 💜

[neil-gaiman]

Hello, Neil Gaiman. I am writing this letter of gratitude because I am in despair, but I am obliged to you. I am Russian, I live in a small town in the south of Russia, in the Caucasus. a month ago I turned 16, so now I am fully responsible for all my actions. I'm bisexual, which is now illegal. you understand what I mean, but I’m simply scared to write about such things. absolutely no one knows about this, and I have to hide every day. this is an unbearable burden, but I must say thank you. because your projects are what gives me life. you have no idea how much pleasure it was for me, at eight years old, to fearfully admire Mr. Bobinsky. when, at 14, I finally saved up money for the Russian edition of Good Omens, which I had to order via the Internet not directly, but through my friends, I was quietly delighted. it is worth paying tribute to: this edition is really good and very warms the soul, its design may not be filled with elegance with a golden border, but it is very homely, cozy and imbued with love for the work, this can be felt, even if the translation is not the best. and on the very first pages I felt something that I had never experienced, having problems with the nervous system and anxiety: I felt protected and happy. I felt complete. each line was a sip of life-giving water for me. let me be so bold but this book is perfect for me and it's hard to believe it wasn't written for me personally haha. like two pieces of a puzzle. I hold the book of Good Omens, and I cry almost every time because it feels good just to hold it in my hands. you shouldn’t put this next to fanaticism, it’s just personal happiness. sometimes I felt so safe with this book that I hugged it as I fell asleep. then I saved up to the translation of script book for the first season, and I must say that I am confused, because there are no deleted scenes in it with Crowley shopping or the opening of Aziraphale's bookstore and others, and this was not clear to me. and a month ago, on October 30, my cousin, who is like my own sister, gave me the original Good Omens for my birthday. can you imagine? in all of Russia she was able to find only one person who carried out such foreign orders (please forgive me, I have little understanding of this). so, in some ineffable way, a copy was delivered to me via America from Corgi Books, I think, 2014. soft cover and thin pages, of course, but I'm so happy. and I’m also grateful to myself, because I’ve been learning English since I was seven, and therefore I’m glad that I can read the original. oh, you should have seen with what rapture I waited for the release of the second season at three in the morning! and with what delight I watched it in English without subtitles, understanding what was happening. this is happiness. what I want to say is that you bring…indescribable happiness to my life. you give me strength, and I don’t give up. I cry every time I allow myself to dream that I am escaping from here. that I can meet you and say thank you in person with my stupid accent, not so much because of my native language, but because of the braces, hahaha. but I never stop dreaming about it, although even this is hard. thank you for everything. I wish only peace and love. with devotion, love and gratitude, A.

I'm sending thoughts of love and concern. Stay safe.

[starryinkart]

[Click for Better Quality!!]

[Likes and Reblogs are appreciated!!]

HELLOO GUYS!!! I would like to introduce a comic I am working on besides my Absolutely fanfic/project on Archive! It is called “Murder Drones:Totality” and I’ve been working on the idea for months! The first pages will be out soon, most likely next week but I wanted to let you all I’m not dead!

I’m also working on something “indie series pilot-like”for Absolutely as well as Chapter 5, which I’m almost finished writing! (I was just super sick last week and on top of that my chronic pain was acting up 😞) Not totally ready to announce anything yet, but something will definitely be on my YouTube in a few weeks!👀👀

[This is NOT replacing my “Absolutely” book! It’s just another AU in my hand full of AUS lol 🥹💕)

Here’s the synopsis!:

Barely escaping the mass destruction of Copper 9, as well as losing Uzi to the Absolute Solver, N, V, J, Khan, Lizzy and Thad find their way through the galaxy to the Earth-like planet “Jericho”; where they look for refuge and plan to fight back. Their new goal, stop the solver from destroying the last remaining human colonized planet by any means necessary, find JCJENSON and report their findings. It shouldn’t be THAT hard…right?

For now though, enjoy this little sneak peak!!

[semischarmed]

River

River was a walking enigma. 

Instagram, TikTok, Facebook- hell, I even tried looking for a yearbook. Nothing. I had nothing on the guy. Like an illusion, he merely appeared, did his work diligently and then promptly vanished. In fact, his most common phrase around the office was a “Sorry, I can’t- busy.” His distance seemed to put some people off. That only made me want him more.

When Chelsea threw a quitting party, he dropped in, chatted for a few minutes and then left without saying goodbye- except to Chelsea. He wasn’t rude by any means. I’ve only ever seen the guy be polite. I personally found it quite hot. His mysteriousness brought an allure about him.

During another quitting party- a dinner for Mark this time, I tried to make conversation, asking him why he was named River. I actually asked the question in a few roundabout ways. Most I ever got was a “just what my parents named me- they thought I’d have brown hair”. I tried to pry for his hobbies, asked what he did for fun and he only responded with a “I watch baseball, go to the gym, watch TV. I guess”, before asking me about mine. The conversation was cordial, and probably a little boring, but I was captivated. This had been the closest I ever sat next to him. 

My breathing quickened, ever so slightly, as I watched his shirt struggle to contain the form within. I traced the vascularity in his hands, the craftsmanship in the sculpt of his neck, the fabric of his shirt stretching taut when he would reach to grab a napkin. There was a full plate of food in front of me but I was only salivating at one thing.

The conditions were not ideal- but what choice did I have? The guy was like a ghost. I laughed a bit at the irony. I sat right across, trying to filter the scents and the sounds of food and camaraderie to focus on him. This would take all my brain power. I steadied my breathing and sharpened my focus, as I continued to answer and ask mundane questions about some work projects we both had. I started my work, mimicking every microexpression, every slight movement. I tailored every word from my mouth- even my delivery to slowly match his. This had to be subtle, of course- I’ve found out the hard way in the past how creepy this process could look in public if done too quickly. 

River’s eyes blinked slower, like a haze was forming in his mind. I followed suit, weaving my slight impersonation in and out of our conversation. Like a pulse, I felt our movements begin to sync. Almost there. Now came the tough part, slowly drawing him out and isolating him without lo-

“C’mon, let’s all get shots- uh… River you ok bro?” Mark asked.

He shook off his daze, surprised at himself before laughing off the weirdness. 

I was pissed the rest of the night, forcing myself to hide the permanent glare I would have worn for Mark. 

As the night drew on, River left early- of course, and I continued on, staying a bit longer to wish Mark well in one final toast for the night. 

That would be the last time in a while I’d be so close to him. The following drought was unbearable. For the next few months, no one quit. No big holidays were coming up, and our office wasn’t much for parties. Instead, I had to satiate myself with glances and the occasional short conversation.

= = = = 

“Does that work for you two?” My boss asked. I nodded readily, eyeing River’s response. Another nod.

Fuck. I practically jumped when the boss said those words. A presentation. A presentation with River. A chance.

I think I deserved an Oscar for my acting in the few weeks after we were both tasked with the presentation. A wrong font here, corrupted save there, a missed chart. I “worked” tirelessly on the presentation with River, making sure to leave enough mistakes and gaps to drag the process out. 

The guy was too polite, and I knew I had to use that against him. I ran the clock, watching the days progress into weeks and his brow furrow as stress deepened. Of course, I had to play my part, acting innocent at every step. A quick “sorry” for every mistake I planted was enough to ease suspicion. I even faked a confession about roommate drama causing my decline in performance. I thanked how private he was in that moment- I lived alone. Ever the hero, River was quick to take on the responsibility- even covering for me on few occasions. I knew I had to get inside this man.

Then came the day before the big presentation.

“I- uh… okay. Maybe we can finish this at my apartment,” He stated, clearly uncomfortable. I held back a moan.

= = = =

“You can set your stuff down there”.

It was a bit boring compared to what I expected. He was definitely put together at work, so it was a bit surprising to see some mess littering his apartment. 

A few posters dotted the walls. Some basketball guy, I guess. An action movie. A generic college banner. His furniture boxy and grey, and the carpets running through the floors were in need of cleaning. Perhaps unsurprisingly, his kitchen was pristine, practically sparkling, aside from a small collection of protein powders and supplements. 

“Uh.. sorry I don’t really have any snacks.”

He sheepishly opened the near-empty fridge and offered me a choice in drink. Some kind of pre-workout beverage and water. I took the water. 

“Okay, I need to head to the gym for a bit. You still have a few slides you wanted to add, right?” A Hoodie-wearing, duffel-toting River asked. I nodded, trying not to look too eager and straining to keep my eyes from staring at his well-defined legs. 

And then, there I was. Alone in River’s apartment. Alone with River’s apartment. I ran to his dirty laundry pile. 

“Mmmphhhh” My eyes rolled back as I took the deepest inhale of my life. These were River’s boxer briefs. The same ones he had just worn. Doused in the scent of a day’s work. It was damp- guess River was a sweaty guy, though the long walk and couple flights of stairs to get to his apartment may have also been culprit. I was paralyzed in bliss, as I took in every note of his natural musk. 

It reverberated deep in my chest as I continued to circulate every ounce of River I could inside me. The underwear was practically glued to my nose and mouth before I finally relented and drew them away, gasping for air. Exquisite. 

My dick jumped at the sight of a single strand of his pubic hair, like flickering flame. A perverse smile planted itself on my face as I gingerly pulled my clothes off. I shivered as the cold, damp fabric that had just touched his bare flesh was now touching mine. I felt his hair on my flesh, now caked in his sweat. The elastic snapped around my waist as I released, a bit tight. My breaths fell shallow, ragged as I sat there basking in his cold embrace.

Next came the tank top. I mentally hit myself for not putting it on first, as it was a significantly less erotic experience. Still, as I slipped my arms through the holes that his once filled, my dick couldn’t help but twitch in approval. 

I ran to his bed, gripped his sheets, and stifled another moan with his pillow. This man had, until today, been a full on mystery to me. And now, here I was- deep in the recesses of his apartment, nestled in the indent on his bed, buried in fabric stained with traces his scent and natural grime. I was drowning in the all aspects of his daily life. It was an intimacy with River previously unheard of and practically a miracle I hadn’t cummed yet. 

The next few moments were sluggish, mind hazy and drunk in pleasure, as I wore my jacket and pants over the River clothes I had already had on me. I mentally thanked myself for wearing tighter clothing earlier today, as I felt them compress River’s undergarments tighter on my flesh. I walked back, sitting on the dining table and pretending to work.

A few minutes later, the door clicked open and a panting River waved. He no longer had a hoodie on and left nothing to imagination. I eyed the feast before me.

I fucking knew it. This kid was ripped. 

I salivated as my eyes followed every contour of the body that would soon be mine. His flesh was flush and glistening with sweat.

“M-must have been some workout,” I mumbled. I couldn’t stop myself from staring.

“Yeah, fucking kicked my ass today,” River said with a short laugh. My dick twitched. River never swore, never gave off a jockish vibe at work, but here he was, beaten tired and unable to contain his natural state behind a facade of politeness. 

My lip quivered when his post-workout scent wafted into my nose. It was divine. True to his name, River had an earthy, deep musk about him. A delayed, almost sour afternote followed, the kind that clings to the nose. It riled me up, knowing this offensive, raw blast of testosterone had been working next to me for the past two years, hidden by layers of work clothes and pleasantries. River was cleaned, masked and sanitized for corporate America. And now I had a private showing to it. I was feral. I wanted-no, needed to be piloting this hunk for myself.

My trance was broken when River dropped to his couch, laughing slightly. This wasn’t his normal laugh- it dropped all pretense and I recoiled out of reflex, thinking back to that same laugh that emanated from the football jocks back in high school. 

A lazy pair of eyes drifted up to meet me. “Sorry bro, just new a few minutes.”

I gulped. This was my chance. No need for precision, no need for focus. River was vulnerable. In any other circumstance, I’d be syncing to his movements, slowly, imperceptibly altering his as he would start following mine. Then I could pull him into my trance, lead him to a safe area as I continued the process. This was different. River served himself up on a platter for me, beaten to near immobility by his workout. No way was I gonna miss this. I stripped quickly, abandoning my original plan.

Without a word, I walked closer to him, grabbing his wrists. 

“W-what are you”. In that instant, i jumped on top of him, allowing my body to follow the contours of his.

He grunted in defiance while I began to grind in pleasure. “Ughhh! Fuck bro. I can’t! I can’t wait. I can’t wait to be River!” 

The process was quick- his drenched, energy drained flesh practically grabbed at mine, drawn by my own energy into itself. It was osmosis. I moaned as I saw the process start, and River’ meaty form encapsulate my own. His arms and legs splayed as he screamed at the intrusion. “What the fuck are you-“ He grunted in pain as he felt our two forms begin to meld. I laughed a perverted laugh, eyeing how deep I was inside him. His lack of energy had been his downfall.

I licked the inside of his head, feeling him shiver and whimper at the intrusion. I whispered venomously. “What am I doing?” I thrusted myself deeper into his muscled form, “I’m becoming River. I’m gonna wear you like a fine red suit.” I felt my facial muscles match his and pulled him into a smile he did not intend to make. “You boring prude. This body was built for sex. You’re starving this poor thing. I bet it’s backed up.” I whined in half-whispers. “Let me take you for a ride.” River moaned in horror, kicking his legs into the sofa in discomfort as his muscled back began to close over me. Possessing the ginger felt like a warm, dank hug. “You feel that?” I teased, this time his voice mimicking mine. He could no longer respond as it had become my mouthpiece. Instead, his head repeatedly slammed the sofa in resistance, forced to wear a smile that was not his own. 

I laughed, feeling our combined chest heave in deep pleasure as I jammed my fingers deep into each bicep. I drilled into each arm, relishing in feeling his muscle fibers slip past me. Power. He shook as he tried in vain to resist my fingers filling into his. Putting on those vascular hands like well-fitted gloves. “Fuck yeah bro… that’s the stuff. Dominate me. Command me. Control my every move. My nerves are itching for their owner. Put this ginger meatsuit on…” I mock in his voice. Tears welled in my eyes, as I felt him continue to slam our slowly merging head into the sofa. I purse our lips before moaning further. “Wear my clothes…” My legs wove into his, twisting and binding into one. “Wear my personality…” the bottom half of our merged face laughs, while my new eyes blink away angered tears. I felt his memories begin to flow and surround mine. His rage and desperation flowed through me. The slamming slowed, coming to a complete halt as a reborn River’s eyes blinked into a lewd, sinful glee. “Wear my life.”

I stood up, piloting my new body towards the mirror. “You’re still in there, aren’t you?” River’s outward defiance no longer showed over his perfect flesh but his mind was a raging storm. “Good.” His body lit in searing pain, sore muscle tendon and fiber forced to flex. I felt the storm calm as he was stunned. I myself winced slightly before my arousal imprinted itself through River’s face. This was my pain now. I could feel every fiber of his musculature tearing and repairing themselves. Building back stronger with the pre-workout mix he had drunken earlier. Building back with me embedded deep inside. Our leg wobbled in pain, before I slapped it back into submission, forcing it to flex. “Fuck yeah, that’s the stuff.”

I roared and patted my new chest and abs. “YEEAAAH!” Just one last piece of me was left. An intentional dessert I had left not internally bonded with River. 

I let his normally stoic face relay the erotic pleasure I felt in wearing this flesh. I then pulled a “serious” face, bringing pained biceps into a flex. “We gotta live up to our name bro… gotta let the river flow”. A greedy tongue licked the dripping sweat hanging off ginger hairs of his armpit. I wanted to savor this. The tangy, salty nectar lingered in our shared tongue before I began to make out with my new reflection. With a grunt, I slammed River’s pelvis into the mirror, groaning as my growing hard-on began to fill into his dick. At first contact, I felt our senses mingle and the cold metal of the mirror. I grunted, trying to reign in the lust. With our linked sensitivity, I could feel my original body’s dick worming itself into my soon to be River-flavored cock. I thrusted my rod up, relishing in the soothing bare metal beneath the perverse cock and cock sleeve combination.

I grabbed at my new rod with one hand, while the other greedily dragged across my new body, feeling every new muscle and crevice and damp piece of the hunk. River thrashed inside me, disgusted at feeling his own flesh violate itself. At watching this new carnal entity that wore his face and name.

“S-someone’s gonna find out. Someone will fix this” He threatened in my mind. 

“No bro… you’re the perfect host. No one at work knows a thing about you”. I cooed in his voice. “When we quit, when I take this thick ginger cock for a joy ride-“ tug “No one…” tug “No one will know.” I groaned as the last of his dick bonded to mine. We were complete. “I’m River now!” I shouted before devolving into whimpers of pleasure as I felt River’s warm seed stream out of me. 

River’s softening, sore wood was forced back into full mast as I eyed the full extent of my- now his- depravity. Not wanting to waste a drop, I smeared my new lotion onto my new flesh, caking in layers of his drying sweat with layers of drying semen. I could only hear gagging in my mind as River was forced to taste his own produce. It’s my body now anyways, why shouldn’t it reek of sex and his natural musk?

[writeonwhiskey]

the skz house: ch 19 (18+)

a/n: thank you @bahablastplz for editing! i appreciate you 🩵 and thank you, readers, or your patience.

[ read chapter 18 here ]

Chapter 19: Of Christmas & Chokers

Over the next few days, the comfortability between you and Chan deepens. Whether you’re in the room or out being tourists, you remain almost glued together—holding hands, sitting on his lap, hugging each other, kissing. Your conversations flow naturally and without tension. In an alternate universe, perhaps this would have been an ideal trip for a couple in love. As delusional as you may have become in believing this could be a new normal, you keep one foot grounded in reality. Well, maybe not the whole foot…but at least a pinky toe.

Your days are packed with several activities such as a nighttime ATV ride, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. You both have the time of your life letting loose. Speeding, swerving, screaming at the rush of it all. You’ve never seen Chan smile so much. He is different when he’s free of the responsibility of being Chapter President…he’s carefree. You tell yourself regardless of how this ends, you’ll be glad you at least got to see him like this.

You go to a local amusement park where Chan is determined to make you face your fear of rollercoasters. However, after the second ride leaves you nearly in tears, Chan puts that mission to rest.

You venture back out on the water on a jet ski. Chan lets you do most of the driving that day, but you soon realize it’s a set up. When you’re far out enough from the beach, his hands on your hips find their way between your legs. He kisses your neck and tells you to turn off the jet ski. He fucks you with his fingers until you come, whispering in your ear how hard his cock is and what he plans to do to you later.

One of the days while you and Chan are out, the hotel staff add holiday decorations around the room, including a small, 4ft tree in the corner near the balcony windows. It makes you squeal with glee upon seeing it. You assume it’s all the hotel’s doing. Lee Know wouldn’t have done something so nice. Would Chan? He doesn’t claim it, if he had put them up to it. It doesn’t matter, though, it makes you happy to see and feel more of the holiday spirit.

When Christmas Eve comes around, there’s a break in the itinerary since a lot of places are closed for the holiday. You wind up sleeping in quite late for your standards and when you finally open your eyes, Chan is wide awake in the bed next to you. He’s sitting up, back against the pillows, laptop in front of him and headphones covering his ears. He’s consumed by whatever he’s doing, but as soon as you turn to face him, his eyes shift from the screen to you.

“She has risen,” he jokes, moving one headphone away from his ear.

“I needed that,” you reply, stretching beneath the blankets. “How long have you been up?”

“A while,” he says with a shrug. “Just working on our chapter project.”

You smile inwardly. Typically, his response would have finished with ‘a while’, you would have had to dig and pry for any further information. He, for now at least, is freely providing you with further details.

“Chapter project?” you ask. You recall hearing him discuss it months ago, but never knew what it was.

“Just something we have to put together to memorialize the year,” he tells you. He turns the laptop so you can see the screen. You recognize the sight of a music program with tracks and layers but have no further understanding of it.

“Putting your minor to use?”

“Kind of. It doubles as my senior project for the minor, so that’s a plus.” He starts moving things around on the screen, opening a folder aptly titled ‘Chapter Project’. He clicks on a few files, opening them to show you as he speaks. “I want to incorporate songs I’ve worked on with different things from the other members—Hyunjin’s artwork for example.”

You know Chan is a good student. All of the members are, really, but you know some of them drag their feet and procrastinate until the last minute. You’ve caught Hyunjin, Changbin and Jeongin rushing to meet midnight deadlines more than once.

“Can I hear something?”

You sit up on the bed, back against the pillows like Chan. The blanket falls from your chest, exposing your breasts.

“Only if you put those things away,” he says, looking pointedly at your breasts, then up to your eyes, then back down again.

“What things?” you ask innocently, leaning back against the headboard and pushing your chest out even more.

Seizing the opportunity, Chan leans over and captures your nipple in his mouth. You let out a surprised scream as he bites down around it. You push him away, swatting his arm. You promptly pull the blanket up to cover them before holding out your hand for his headphones.

He hands them over with a smile, and you put them on. He shuffles a few things around on the screen before a video starts. You assume the graphics are of Felix’s design as it feels like something you’d see in a video game. A song accompanies the images and you’re surprised to hear Chan’s voice over a jovial sounding beat, followed by Seungmin, then Changbin. You didn’t know any of them could sing.

The video is only about a minute long but you feel dumbfounded when it’s over. You remove the headphones and pass them back to Chan.

“I like it,” you say with a smile. “It’s…surprisingly good.”

“You underestimating me?” he asks teasingly.   

“My mistake,” you say sarcastically, placing a hand over your heart. “Is that a cover?”

“No, it’s an original song,” he tells you, turning the laptop back so it’s facing him. “Just waiting on Felix to finish rendering the rest of the graphics, then that one will be done.”

“You’re doing more?”

“A few more. It’ll be a mini-album.”

“Do I get a copy?”

“Hmmm…maybe. If you ask nicely.”

“Oh, never mind then,” you say nonchalantly.

Chan turns to look at you, biting his tongue between his teeth to keep from smiling as he nods.

“I’ll remember that.”

You slide down against the pillows, then turn on your side so you’re still facing him.

“I had no idea you guys could sing,” you tell him.

“Participating in choir was mandatory at our boarding school,” he shrugs. “We can hold a note.”

Chan is full of so many surprises. Most of them pleasant, these days. You want to uncover all there is to know about him, but you know you’ll never be given the time.

You cuddle up to him as he puts his headphones back on. You just lay there and watch him work, expertly navigating around the screen as he continues composing the song. You want to ask why he’s not majoring in music. You already know the answer to that, though. The choices for his future aren’t exactly his to make. His parents decided he would major in business, and sadly that’s all there is to it.

Your heart aches for him—you can see the work he put in to make something creative, the passion he has for it. And he can’t even pursue it.

It’s now 11:00pm and you and Chan have just returned to the hotel room. After dinner you both wanted to get out of the room for a bit and ended up at one of the only places open—the Magic City casino. The hours spent there are a bit of a blur. It was news to you that anyone playing at the tables or slot machines could get free drinks, so you both decided to indulge. Being so far from the hotel, though, Chan didn’t let either of you get too drunk.

As soon as you’re back to the room, Chan excuses himself to make a phone call and disappears out onto the balcony. You change into your pajamas—a pair of thin, loose fitting shorts and matching top—and return to the living room. You turn on the TV, stopping on the first channel you see playing a Christmas themed movie to entertain you while you wait for him to return. From all the food and drinks, you start to doze off until the sound of the heavy balcony door opening stirs you.

“Everything okay?” you ask when he comes back in.

“Mm,” is his reply, with a small nod of his head. “It’s Christmas day back home. I’m gonna get changed.”

You can only nod as well. His tone sounds a bit sad so you’re not sure what to say. Maybe he’s missing spending the holiday with his little brother and sister. And that makes you sad. It’s your fault he’s not with them.

Chan comes back into the living room clad in a plain black t-shirt and grey sweatpants. He sits down next to you and throws his arm around the back of the couch behind you.

All of your life you had never considered yourself to have a one-track mind but now? With Chan? Seeing him in those grey sweatpants puts one thing at the forefront of your mind, drowsiness and sadness pushed aside. You’ve got to get a hold of yourself.

“Should I open the bottle of wine the hotel left?” you suggest.

“Sure,” is his simple reply.

You stand and retrieve the bottle from the kitchen, along with two wine glasses. You pop the cork and fill both glasses before returning to Chan, handing him one.

“You sure everything’s alright? You seem a bit down…”

You don’t want the tension in the air to linger through the night and this trip has built your courage to address him this way.

“I’ll be fine,” he tells you with a soft smile. He clinks his glass against yours before downing his in one go. “You trying to stay up ‘til midnight for your present?”

You take a sip from your wine glass; happy he’s taking the initiative to change the subject to something lighter.

“I don’t see any presents under that tree,” you say, looking in the corner where the small tree is lit up.

“I haven’t put them there yet.”

“Them?”

As in multiple.

He nods.

“Oh no,” you say, a look of panic taking over your features.

You weren’t sure the two of you would even be exchanging gifts. Not only that, but you don’t feel like you truly know enough about him to get a well thought out present. And you love giving gifts. Hyunjin has a never-ending need for art supplies, so you immediately knew what to get him. You were completely puzzled when it came to Chan.

It was only after the staff added the tree that you thought it’d be nice for him to wake up with something under the tree. Being on vacation, though, you were in a bit of a predicament. All you really had convenient access to was the gift shop.

He must sense your apprehension.

“It’s okay if you didn’t get me anything,” he tries to appease you.

When the panicked look on your face turns into a frown, he takes the wine glass from your hand and places it next to his on the side table. He then pulls you into his lap so you’re straddling him and cups your face with both hands, stroking your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs.

“It’s fine,” he says in a sharper tone that makes you nod in acceptance.

“I would have never imagined I’d be spending Christmas Eve with you, let alone exchanging gifts,” you tell him, leaning your forehead against his. “From English classmates to this? Never in my wildest dreams.”

“That wasn’t our first class together,” he says matter-of-factly. He leans back against the couch and takes both of your hands in his, lacing his fingers through.

You furrow your brow at his statement. You wrack your brain for any other class you may have had with him but can’t come up with any.

“What? When?”

“Freshman year…Anthropology 101. In the lecture hall.”

You think back to freshman year and the classes you took. You did, in fact, take an Anthropology course. In a large lecture hall with something close to 100 other students, including your ex.

“I always sat in the back—you were always somewhere up front. Being a nerd, I guess,” he teases. You try to pull your intertwined hands from his to hit him, but he holds onto them tighter, bringing them to his chest. “You look cute when you’re focused, you know that?”

Your brain feels like mush. None of this is ringing a bell.

“Do you remember the presentation you did for extra credit? A family heirloom?”

Now that, you do remember.

“You were so nervous, but I swear it made you look even cuter. The way you talked about the heirloom…” he continues. “…your grandmother’s bracelet, I think it was…”

“Yes,” you say softly.

The bracelet your grandmother gave your mother, who then passed it on to you, and one day you’ll give it to your own child. It feels odd to hear Chan speak about it. Something so deeply personal to you. Granted, you did tell an entire class of strangers about it. But the fact that he remembers it, remembers you?

The fact that he’s known of you this long? Why hadn’t he mentioned it before?

“Why don’t I remember you being in that class?” you ask, struggling to process this new shared history and the words he’s just spilled about you simultaneously.

“It was freshman year…plenty of stuff going on and…your ex,” he shrugs.

He hits the nail on the head with that comment. That class is where you met him.

“You know, the first few weeks of the SKZ house before we bring anyone in?” Chan asks rhetorically, “I thought maybe I’d work up the nerve to talk to you while I could…but then he was there. Always sitting next to you. Even with the class we had this semester. I thought again, maybe it was a sign, you know? But he was waiting for you outside the door after the first class ended.”

You feel a pang of sadness, hearing that. Maybe in a different timeline if he had come talk to you, things would be different. You imagine getting to know a bright-eyed freshman Chan, eager and optimistic to take on the world. Maybe he would have opted out of having an assignee if it were possible, maybe he really could have been yours.

“I remember one of the last lectures you came in with your eyes all puffy,” he continues, disrupting that dangerous train of thought, “like you’d been crying. You didn’t sit anywhere near him that day. I always wondered what happened.”

You open your mouth to speak but close it immediately. What can you say to that? To any of this? Had he really paid such close attention to you? All this time?

“He used to treat you like shit, you know.”

At that remark, you set your lips in a firm line. You untangle your hands from his and cross your arms in front of your chest. It’s true, but hearing Chan say it hits too close to home.

“And you treated me any better?”

Chan takes in your closed off body language and a silence falls over you. Neither of you want this bubble you’re in to burst yet. Perhaps he’s regretting saying any of this at all.

“The day you showed up at our house…” he speaks up again after a while, “I felt sick to my stomach, y/n. Like the universe was playing some sick fucking joke on me.”

He places his hands on your thighs, squeezing and rubbing them.

“When it came time to choose assignees, I couldn’t let you end up with anyone else. I’ve never pulled rank like that before as the chapter president, but with you I had to…and I knew Hyunjin would be good for you, too.”

You shake your head in disbelief.

The day in the hot tub creeps back into your mind. When you told Chan that your time with Hyunjin had been great and he replied with ‘I know. I’m glad’. You didn’t fully understand it then. Now, it’s as if Chan knew the emotional rollercoaster he was going to send you on and wanted to make sure you had a harness. Hyunjin.

You let out a low breath and place your hands on top of your head, locking your fingers together. This is a lot to take in.

“So, your plan was to selfishly claim me and treat me like shit?” You ask after a moment.

“I wouldn’t call it a plan,” he says in a sad tone. “I knew that I was attracted to you and after our first few nights together I had to do something to keep boundaries in place.”

The conversation you shared on the beach clarified his drive for the spankings and edging. You understand his reasonings. You know that his sexual desires and fantasies with you are kept separate from his emotional connection to you. However, it’s confusing and frustrating to know he clearly felt something for you prior to you joining the SKZ House and still kept that brick wall firmly in place between you.  

“So, you wanted to fuck me and still treat me like shit then?” You can’t help the bitter edge to your tone.

“I didn’t wanna get to close—clearly I’ve failed,” he admits. “It’s just always been in the back of my mind how long I’ve wanted you and now that I get to have you, there’s an expiration date.”

“What happens when we get back? You start treating me like that again?”

He averts his gaze from you.

“I don’t know how to—” he stops abruptly and shakes his head.

“Chan,” you say softly, reaching out to turn his head back to face you. “Please.”

“I don’t know how to be with you and be genuinely happy in this fucked up situation, y/n. I’m not gonna want it to end…but it has to.”

You sigh, resting your hands on his chest. As much as it hurts to admit, he’s right. You don’t like the thought of having to leave either of them. With Hyunjin, though, you know he will move on with ease which makes losing him slightly easier. Chan, on the other hand, after all the ground you’ve broken, the progress you’ve made…having to throw it all away will be hard. On both of you, you’re coming to realize.

But how else could you have gotten to know him? If you hadn’t shown up at the SKZ house, Chan would have once again had another assignee and not been able to interact with you anyways. Perhaps you both should at least be thankful for the time you’ve been given and enjoy it while you can.

“You can’t go back to being an asshole, Chan,” you tell him softly.

“I know.”

He grabs onto your hips and pulls you closer to him until you’re forced to lay against him. You rest your head on his shoulder as he wraps his arms around you, hugging you tightly. You stay like that for a while, the movie playing in the background but neither of you watching it. You want to remember this moment, how it feels to physically and mentally be this close to him.

An alarm suddenly goes off on his phone and Chan quickly silences it. He cups one hand around the back of your neck to guide your head up. His brown eyes bore into yours, still lingering in this shared moment. You hold his face in your hands, staring right back, not backing down. It’s not an intense stare…more like one of silent pleading and unspoken questions. You bring your face to his and place a chaste kiss on his lips.

“Wait here,” he says, kissing you once more before sliding you off his lap.

He disappears into the bedroom and when he comes back, heads straight for the Christmas tree. He places two wrapped boxes under it and you mentally kick yourself again. You hadn’t even wrapped his. Even so, you can’t hide the smile that takes over your face at the sight and the thought he must have put into this.

“Should I get yours?”

“So you did get me something?” he asks with a smirk.

“I did…but seeing that,” you say, pointing to the neatly wrapped presents under the tree, “I don’t even want to give it to you anymore.”

“It’s fine,” he says again. “I’ll wait until tomorrow. Come pick one.”

You stand from the couch and walk over to him and the tree. Both boxes are square in shape, one larger than the other. You deliberate for a moment before reaching for the larger one. You sit on the floor and pull it towards you, surprised by its weight. You look up at Chan and when he doesn’t move to join you, you pull on his hand until he sits.

“Did you wrap this yourself?”

“I asked the housekeeper to help me out with it,” he tells you.

“Resourceful.”

He taps his temple with his pointer finger.

You start ripping away the wrapping paper to reveal a white box beneath. You can’t hold back your smile as you pull the top part of the box off. You set it aside and pull out the tissue paper. When your eyes land on what’s inside, your mouth drops.

A folded, white lab coat with your last name embroidered across the breast area sits on top. You reach out and run a finger across the stitching. It feels surreal to see.

“I figured you’d need it when you go off to vet school.”

You look up at him, still smiling. You will definitely need it. Along with several other items you were already wondering how you would afford, without having to ask your parents for even more money. That’s part of the reason you ultimately decided to join the SKZ house and save the money they were sending you. At least the majority of it would go towards the next steps in your education.

“Thank you, Chan.”

It’s a thoughtful gift. And you feel the guilt of your shitty gift building.

“There’s more…” he nods towards the box.

And the guilt continues.

You lift the lab coat out of the box and gently set it outside the box. The next item is a set of black scrubs, your name embroidered on the shirt as well. You left them out of the box and sit them on top of the lab coat. When your eyes land on the item at the bottom of the box, your jaw drops again.

You reach inside the box and retrieve the stethoscope. This was one of the pricier items you hadn’t been looking forward to purchasing. You bring it closer to inspect, smiling widely. You immediately recognize it as one of the more expensive brands. It, too, is engraved with your name around it.

You feel your eyes begin to prickle and you blink furiously, not wanting to cry, but you can’t help it. It’s a thoughtful gift. One that you’ll get to take with you when the year is over. A reminder of Chan you get to keep with you forever.

You slowly raise your eyes to look at him, shaking your head softly.

“You don’t like it?” he asks, “Is it not the right kind? I wasn’t really sure…”

“It is—it is,” you say, your voice cracking. You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand and clear your throat. “It’s perfect. It’s all perfect, Chan. Thank you.”

“Wanna test it out?”

Your smile returns at that and you nod, placing the ear tubes in your ears and sliding closer to him. He pulls you onto his lap once again, putting your legs on either side of him, your butt resting on his folded legs.

You grab the bell end of the stethoscope with one hand and pull at the hem of his t-shirt with the other, lifting it up. You then place the diaphragm end to his chest and he instantly moves back, grabbing your wrist.

“That’s cold doc,” he says, voice muffled and rumbling through the ear piece.

“Sorry, I’m a rookie,” you reply sheepishly.

You bring the diaphragm end to your mouth and breathe on it to warm it up before placing it back over his heart. The digital reader immediately lights up, reading his heart rate. But you’re not focused on it. You’re looking directly into his eyes, listening to the strong, steady beat of his heart. It’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.

“Sounding healthy?” he asks.

You nod.

“Well, we should make sure the reading is accurate, too.”

He cups the back of your neck and pulls your face closer, bringing your lips to his. With his other hand, he holds your wrist and the stethoscope in place. You can hear his heartbeat quicken as you kiss. You grind your hips against his, causing the steady thumping in your ear to beat faster. You want to get lost in the sound of his body’s reaction to you.

He uses his hand on your back to assist your grinding, making sure you can also feel his body’s reaction to you.  

Not wanting to jeopardize the safety of your present, you break the kiss and pull the ear tubes out. His hand drops from your wrist allowing you to turn and set the stethoscope neatly on top of the pile of the other presents behind you.

Before you can even turn back around, Chan is changing your position. He holds onto your back tightly as he lowers you down to the floor.

“I won’t write a negative review just yet—but you’ve got some learning to do, doc.”

You like to hear him call you that.

“I’m a fast learner,” you reply.

“Oh, I know,” he says with a wink.

He remains sitting in front of you, his legs still crossed, while you’re lying down. Your legs are draped over his thighs, feet on the ground on either side of him. He pushes your shirt up to expose your stomach and lightly runs his fingers in a zig-zag pattern all the way down until his hand is between your legs. The thin, pajama shorts you’re wearing are a loose fit and don’t do much to keep him out. Not that you’d want that.

He easily moves the fabric aside and his eyes snap to yours when he realizes you aren’t wearing any underwear.

“I only packed so many for the trip,” you laugh and shrug. “I can’t keep messing them up with you.”

He smirks and nods his agreement.

He slides his fingers up and down your slit, teasing your pussy until his fingers become saturated with your slick. He slowly inserts his ring and middle finger inside of you as he places his other palm on your lower stomach. You rock your hips against him in response. He curls his fingers, pressing against your inner walls each time he withdraws his hand, all the while applying steady pressure with his palm.

You can really feel his fingers rubbing against you, and you know he can too. His eyes are on his fingers pumping in and out of your pussy, then move up to your writhing body, then your face. A soft smile plays out on his lips as he watches your reaction. He adds his thumb on your clit into the mix and you let out a moan.

“Tell me what you want,” he coaxes.

You bite your lip between your teeth, arching your back. You’re too caught up in the sensations to formulate a response.

“You wanna come on my fingers?” he asks, slowing them down. “Or on my cock?”

You moan again.

“Both.”

“Greedy,” he says with a soft chuckle, still moving his fingers in and out at an achingly slow pace.

“Mmmm, yes. For you.”

Any part of him you can have.

He moves his fingers quicker, thumb still circling your clit. You sit up a little, placing your hands behind you to hold you up as you move your hips against his fingers.

He arches an eyebrow at this, a devilish smirk on his lips. He withdraws his fingers, and you protest with a whine and pout. He brings his fingers, coated in your slick, to your face and spreads it around your pouted lips. He watches closely as you lick your lips, then brings his hand to his mouth, sucking off the rest for himself.

The sight of him enjoying your taste always sends you off the rails. You grab a handful of his shirt and pull him to you until his lips are on yours. He seems a little startled, but he allows it. You kiss him, taste him, taste you.

Before you can have too much, he breaks the kiss but keeps his face against yours.

“I want you to open your other present now,” he says, lips brushing against yours as he speaks.

“Not in the morning?” you ask, catching your breath.

“No,” he says with a shake of his head. “I wanna see it on you now.”

He stretches to the side to retrieve the present and you wrap your arms around his waist to keep from falling back. He grabs it and returns to his upright position before handing it to you.

You take the present and rip the wrapping paper, much less delicately than you did the first. What could this be? He wants to see it on you? You’re excited to find out. You toss all bits of the paper behind you without a care until just the box is left. You lift the lid from the box and inside is what appears to be…a collar?

You look up to Chan with an arched brow and he just smiles widely, baring all his pearly white teeth. The part of the collar that rests on the back of the neck is black, with a belt buckle-like fastener. On the front is a thick, silver linked chain (much like the one he wears on his wrist) with a silver heart hanging from it. The heart itself has several tiny jewels spread evenly around it. The way they glitter in the light, you hope its cubic zirconia…but knowing how deep Chan’s pockets go, they might just be diamonds. You bring the heart closer for inspection and see the words 'Good Girl' engraved on it.

You’re not sure what to make of it. Both the cost, the phrase and the gift itself. He wants you to wear this? Like a dog?

He takes it out of the box and drapes it around your neck, moving your hair out of the way so he can fasten it in the back. You look up at him as he hooks a finger through the heart and tugs on it. Pulling, pulling, restricting until it’s taught against your throat.

Oh. Oh.  

“This okay?” he asks.

You appreciate that he’s asking. You’re convinced you’d let him walk you through the street with it, so long as he asks first.

You close the distance between you, placing your lips on his to convey your consent. He tugs a little tighter on the collar as you kiss before releasing it fully.

In the next moment, your hands are on his shoulders, pushing on them until his back is now against the floor. He doesn’t resist at all.

You reposition yourself comfortably on top of him. You put your hands on his biceps, squeezing them tightly before sliding up his arms to his hands. You move them up above his head then lace your fingers between his, holding them in place as you kiss him. You grind your hips into his and he lets out a moan. You feel his hardening cock pressed between your legs. You grind against it more, sliding your clit along his length. Your kisses become quicker, sloppier, as you keep grinding on him.

He tries to move his hands, but you squeeze them tighter. He lets out a grunt and uses more force to break free—reminding you that he was allowing you to keep them there. He sits up and wraps one arm around you, pulling you close as he starts to stand up. You wrap your arms around his neck, legs around his waist. He walks you both back over to the couch.

He unhooks your legs and lowers you so you’re standing in front of him. He leans down and claims your lips again, but you want him undressed. You reach for the hem of his shirt and start pulling it up. You break the kiss to get it completely off his head and before he can kiss you again, you push him onto the couch.

You lift your shirt above your head and as you’re reaching back to unhook your bra, you give a pointed look to his sweatpants. He lifts his hips from the couch and pushes them down.

“Does it look good?” you ask, running your fingers along the collar as you kneel in front of him.

He licks his lips in anticipation, “Better than I imagined.”

You reach for his hand and bring it to the collar. He tugs on the heart again, tightening it around your neck. He wraps his other hand around the base of his cock and pulls you towards it. You drop your jaw and take him in your mouth.

He sucks in a breath, watching you lower your mouth on him. He releases the collar and leans back into the couch. You replace your hand with his at the base, stroking his dick as you bob your head up and down.

You alternate between stroking, sucking, taking it out and smacking it against your lips. He moans and groans, body jerking in response to your actions. You love seeing him like this.

You take him out of you mouth fully and continue stroking him, moving your mouth instead to take each of his balls in your mouth, in turn. You glance up to his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he lets out a deep breath.

“So,” you say, returning your attention to his cock, licking slowly around the tip. “You wanna come in my mouth or in my pussy?”

He looks down at you, only able to smile and shake his head at your use of his same words against him. He leans forward and grabs the heart of the collar once more, using it to pull you to him.

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” he asks, kissing along your lips.

You giggle and nod playfully in response.

He leans back, pulling on the collar to bring you with him until you’re forced to stand again. His other hand slips between your legs and he rubs your pussy with his fingers.

“I wanna fill you up here.”

You moan against his lips, and he releases the collar. He lightly pushes against your chest, so you stand fully then motions to your shorts. You turn around, bend over and pull them down. You move to straighten yourself, but he lurches forward to stop you.

He puts a hand on your back to keep you bent over. In the next instant you feel his other hand collide with your ass and you let out a surprised yelp. He rubs the wounded area on the right and brings his mouth to the left cheek, placing a wet kiss to it. You feel his teeth dig into your skin, causing you to gasp. He smacks the right cheek again.

He shifts his mouth to the surely reddening cheek, placing another wet kiss there. It soothes the stinging a bit. He slaps the left check, his palm gripping your ass when it lands. He then immediately slides his fingers between your legs, slipping along your wet slit until they find your opening. He pushes his fingers inside, you don’t even know how many, but it makes you feel full.

“Mmmm,” you moan, pushing back against him.

“You’re dripping for me,” he says, lacing kisses along each cheek.

“Always,” you reply. And it’s the truth.

He takes his fingers out of you and places both hands on your waist, guiding you down to him. He positions himself at your opening and you roll your head back as he slowly lowers you on his cock. You remain still when he’s fully inserted, just basking in the feel of him inside you.

You make small movements with your hips first, moving forwards and backwards.

“Fuck,” he exhales, gripping your hips tighter.

You like the way he sounds when you’re pleasing him.

You plant your feet firmly on the ground, your hands on his knees. You start to move up and down, bouncing on him and drawing more delicious groans from him.

He uses his hands on your waist to lift you higher and bring you down even harder. You cup your breasts, pinching your nipples to add to the pleasure you’re feeling. You don’t know if you’ll ever get tired of his cock filling you up. Though, you won’t exactly have the opportunity to find out.

You try to push the thought aside, but you can feel it distracting you.

Chan notices as your rhythm becomes out of sync with his. He pulls you all the way down against him, then slides his hand up your stomach, between your breasts, all the way to your neck. He covers the collar with his hand and pulls you back against his chest. You keep circling your hips on him, not wanting to lose the momentum.

“You okay?” he asks softly in your ear.

“Yeah,” you reply, but it’s a lie. “I want to see you.”

He repositions both of you so you’re lying fully on the couch and he’s on top of you. He guides one of your knees up and hooks your leg over his shoulder as he enters you again.

“Like this?”

You offer a silent nod, sliding your hands up his bare, chiseled chest, locking your fingers together behind his neck.

He starts moving again and you feel him sliding in and out, and you find yourself unable to tear your gaze from his face. His eyes are locked on you too. This feels heavy, but neither of you comment on it. He turns his head to the side to place a kiss to the leg that’s slung over his shoulder, eyes never leaving yours.

Your hands leave his neck to roam through his hair, over his face, touching every part of him you can to commit to memory. You shift your mental focus to the way he feels, beneath your fingertips, his cock inside of you.

You want the Chan you’ve had for the past week for the rest of the time you have him. Open. Earnest. You try to convey this with your eyes as he continues thrusting in and out. He grabs your breast, squeezing it tightly and you part your lips and arch your back in response.

You don’t know if you’ll survive if he goes back to treating you like you don’t matter. You can’t let him do that to you. Can you?

“I know, I know,” he says in response to your unspoken qualms. He kisses your leg once more before releasing it to lay his body flat against yours. He wraps his arms around your head in a hug of sorts, as he continues his deep and steady strokes.

Chan isn’t fucking you tonight. He’s making love to you.

You slide one hand down to where the two of you are joined, finding your clit. He lifts slightly, allowing you more room to rub circles around it.

“Come on my cock, baby,” he commands.

You whimper at his words. Baby.

You rub your clit faster as he picks up the pace of his thrusts, still driving into you as deep as he can. He angles himself so that with each thrust his dick digs against your walls. It’s enough to drive you crazy. You’re whining, moaning, panting.

“Come for me,” he says again. “Come for me baby girl.”

Your hand on his chest goes for his throat. You squeeze your fingers around it and see his eyes darken, but he doesn’t stop you. He moves his hips faster, harder.

“Chan,” you pant, “please. Right there. Don’t stop.”

And he doesn’t.

He keeps the same pace, same angle, same motions until you’re arching your back and squeezing his neck, digging your nails into his delicate skin as you come around his cock. He grits his teeth, grunting and pounding into you furiously as he comes right after.

His movements slow as he finishes. You release his neck and wrap your arms around it instead. He lowers himself on top of you, all but smothering you with his weight but you don’t care. This is a happy way to die, if it comes to that.

You kiss along his collar bone as you both catch your breath. His cock keeps twitching inside of you and you clench the walls of your pussy around him each time it does. His body jerks each time you do it.

“Stop, stop,” he pleads, chuckling softly.

You chuckle in response.

That was different. In ways you hadn’t imagined possible with Chan. The two of you stay on the couch, wrapped up in each other for a while longer.  

The following morning, you’re both woken up by a knock at the door. Chan, just as confused as you, climbs out of bed to answer it. You hear him talking to someone and he returns a few moments later.

“Another Minho surprise,” he tells you. “A couples massage.”

“That actually sounds amazing,” you murmur, pushing off the blankets.

You both go to the bathroom and brush your teeth. You put your hair up in a messy bun then go to the living room while Chan lets in the masseuses. There’s one male and one female. After setting up their massage tables in the open space between the couch and the TV, they leave for the hallway allowing you both some privacy to remove your clothing.

Chan watches you undress with a sly smile on his face, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. You stick your tongue out at him and throw your pajama shirt at his face, but he dodges it and catches it in his hand. He folds it neatly and sets it on the couch before removing his own shirt.

When you’re both settled on the tables, they re-enter.

“You’re with me, sir,” you hear Chan say and lift your head.

He’s motioning for the male masseuse to come to him.

“I need firmer hands,” he adds.

But you know that’s not it. No other man outside of the SKZ House is allowed to touch you in the way the masseuse will need to. You know it’s because of that. But it still makes you feel warm inside to think Chan personally doesn’t want anyone else touching you.

After the massage, you and Chan shower together then order a late brunch. He opens his present that you are now extremely embarrassed to give him. When he pulls out the pair of neon blue swim trunks with “Miami Vice” written on it, you hide your face, and he immediately laughs.

“These are loud,” he says. “I’ll wear them to the beach tomorrow.”

Next, he pulls out a refrigerator magnet with “Miami” written across it with palm trees surrounding it.

“To be fair,” you say, wanting to explain, “I had no clue what to get you. You’re not exactly an open book.”

“That is fair,” he agrees. He looks at you with a soft smile, as if he wishes things had been different. He kisses your forehead. “Thank you anyways.”

You spend your final two days mostly relaxing and staying close to the hotel. You spend time at the beach again, Chan in his neon blue swim trunks and looking fucking delectable in them.

Getting on the plane to go home, you’re hit with an overwhelming sense of sadness. Chan’s behavior hasn’t changed yet, and you’re praying that it doesn’t. That even though you both know how this has to end; he can find it within himself to not push you out again. You lean on him and hold his hand for most of the flight back.

Changbin picks you up from the airport and Chan rides up front while you sit in the back. He asks how the trip was and you both reply that it was good. He then addresses Chan in Korean and you’re left clueless in the back seat. But whatever is said, you can feel the weight of it from Chan’s reaction. He leans back in his seat, slouches, and runs his hand through his hair.

You try not to think much of it, but it must be important. They don’t typically speak Korean in front of any of the assignees unless it’s about something that, to be frank, is none of their business.

The car ride is over far too soon, and they still haven’t filled you in on what’s happening.

Once in the driveway, you notice a black car parked in front of the house with a Rolls Royce emblem on the front. You immediately furrow your brow, curiosity and anxiety spiking through the roof at this point.

Changbin exits the car first. You remain planted in the backseat, waiting for Chan to say or explain anything.

He lets out a low breath and leans back against the headrest, eyes closed.

“My dad’s here,” he announces.

Your eyes open wide, and even more confusion sets in. Is it an unexpected visit? Is he not happy to see his father?

“You don’t want him to be?” you ask slowly, carefully.

“Well, it’s never exactly a cause for celebration when any of our parents show up,” he says dryly. “Just…stay out of his way.”

Chan opens his door and you follow in suit.

Changbin has pulled the luggage from the trunk, he’s holding the handle to yours and Chan grabs his own. You move to walk past them both, but Chan grabs your arm to stop you.

You turn to face him, trying to read his expression but a mask is in place.

“Chan,” you say, placing a hand to his chest.

A glint, a flicker of something crosses over his eyes and you see your Chan for a split second.

He kisses your forehead.

“After us. And then straight upstairs, okay?” he says softly.

You nod your head and wait for them to walk to the door first.

As soon as you enter the house, you can feel the commanding presence of his father. Your eyes are drawn straight to him on the living room couch, looking all business in a tailored black suit, black hair slicked back.

“Appa.” Chan says.

“Hello,” you say politely with a small bow at the waist.

You know he told you to go straight upstairs, but it would feel rude to pass by without speaking to him.

His father spares half a glance at you before staring daggers at his son.

Changbin heads for the stairs with your suitcase and you follow him. You look back at Chan and offer as encouraging a smile as you can muster. Chan doesn’t turn to look at you. He walks towards his father like a man heading to the gallows and the sight of him like that punctures your already fragile heart.

[ read chapter 20 here ]

a/n: oof. thoughts? feelings? a lot to unpack here. thank you all again for your patience! and sorry the tags still aren't working :(

[flemingsfreckles]

Ol’ College Try (18+)

Synopsis: UCLA!Jessie x UCLA!reader You and Jessie finally have bedrooms no longer in a dorm room, meaning you finally have the chance to explore a new step in your physical relationship using a strap on.

Warnings: SMUT (18+), first time using a strap on smut, its a little awkward and clumsy, strap on (R Receiving), Oral sex (R receiving), little bit of frustration and embarrassment, language.

WC: 3.9k

A/N: Hi, I haven't posted smut in months, literally since July, I sort of fell out of the mood for writing it, I'm working on getting back into it but we'll see. I’ll also be honest, I finished writing this and couldn’t bear the idea of rereading it so I’m sure there’s errors, I apologize.

“You have to promise not to laugh when I turn around.” You rolled your eyes behind your girlfriend’s back at her sudden change from confident to less than, all due to some silicone and leather.

“I won’t babe, I promise, just come over here.”

“I feel like it looks weird.” You watch as Jessie swivels her head to peek at you over her shoulder. You had been watching the way her arms and back moved as she maneuvered.

“You can take it off if you’re not comfortable.” You reassure her from where you were laying on the bed, blanket pulled up around your chest, you were shirtless and had been okay until Jessie’s warmth had left as she moved off the bed, suddenly feeling chilly.

“No, I want to at least try, it’s just new and different. What’s that saying they have? ‘Give it the old college try?’”

You smile at your girlfriend “I think it’s technically ‘Ol’ not ‘old’ but yeah babe, it’s okay if you’re nervous, I am a bit.” You admit. You and Jessie have been dating since the third month of sophomore year at UCLA, now upperclassmen, you were able to move off campus and you each had your own apartments just a few minutes from each other. With the new living location came new bedrooms, bedrooms that weren’t shared with another student, bedrooms that didn’t have a lofted twin size bed, bedrooms that didn’t have paper thin walls.

You both had returned to school early for pre-season, her for soccer and you for cross country meaning when you weren’t at practice, your roommates weren’t home and the two of you had a lot of free time. No classes, assignments, projects, or other school responsibilities had started yet. Reveling in your reunion after spending the summer apart, you and Jessie had found yourselves making up for lost time, often in the sheets of each other's beds. Which led to you the other day texting Jessie, being too shy to ask in person, asking if she’d want to try using a strap on you. She had quickly agreed before telling you to send her what you wanted and she’d buy it.

You had been eager to try it, testing out new waters in your relationship. Jessie had giggled when you opened your front door for her this morning, she held a bag out to you with a silly grin. “I feel like everyone can tell what’s in the bag.” She said as you opened the top, peering in to look at the toy. You sweetly rolled your eyes at your girlfriend’s bashfulness, taking the bag from her hand.

It wasn’t long after she arrived that the two of you were in your bed, Jessie’s body weight holding you firmly to the mattress as she kissed you.

You kissed her back hard, enjoying the feeling of Jessie’s hands roaming your body while yours ran up and down her sides. The two of you made out, quickly losing your shirts, throwing back your head as Jessie’s lips came to rest on your neck.

“Don’t, I’ve got photos tomorrow.” You gently remind her as you start to feel her start to suck on the skin. A dejected noise falls from Jessie’s lips as she releases the suction, causing them to vibrate slightly against you. She moves on, kissing down your chest to give attention to your breasts. Your fingers tangle themselves in her hair, pulling gently, gaining a hum of appreciation from Jessie this time. The longer you make out the more impatient you get, starting to grind up into Jessie, trying to hint to her you were ready to move on.

Jessie finally climbs off of you and heads toward where you had placed the bag earlier on the chair in your room, beginning to mess around with the harness and toy, leading to now where she’s shyly peeking over her shoulder at you with the harness fastened around her waist and thighs.

When she finally turns around to face you, your eyes drop to her waist and your stomach clenches at the sight, your beautiful girlfriend and between her legs the bright blue toy. It somehow looked larger sitting against her body.

“Come ‘ere.” You wave her over, hoping to boost her confidence back up as you can see the way she avoids eye contact with you. She crawls onto the bed, waiting for a moment before moving over to you.. As she leans over the toy sticking out pokes you in the stomach. “Hey!” You quickly move your hand down to grab it, moving it away from jabbing into you.

“Oops sorry, I didn’t think about that, not used to having anything there.” She says, laughing slightly as she looks down to see your hand holding it. “Hand on let me just.” She says before pulling the toy to be flush against her stomach.

With the toy no longer separating you, she leans down, finally reconnecting your lips. She kisses you for a moment before letting her hand trail between your legs, her fingers moving the cloth of your panties to the side. You sigh as her fingers begin to work between your legs, collecting your arousal before coming to your clit to rub slow circles. She continues touching you, pulling small noises of appreciation and approval from you as her fingers work.

“Jessie, come on.” Whining into her ear and bucking your hips she finally gets the message and pulls her hand back.

“What, are you ready?” Jessie pulls away from your lips.

“Yeah, I guess.” You could feel a small pit of nerves growing in your stomach, you’d hadn’t done this before, you trusted Jessie, she wouldn’t intentionally hurt you or make you uncomfortable, but it was new to both of you. You make a quick movement to remove your underwear before tossing it to the side and putting your legs back on either side of Jessie.

Jessie sits back on her knees, hand falling to the base of the toy. Her other hand comes up to rest on your inner thigh, pushing it slightly outward, her eyes falling between your legs. A smile comes across her face and you have to look away for a second from her intense stare.

“Hand me that.” Jessie points to the bottle of lube sitting next to your head on the bedside table. You grab it, passing it to her and watching as she opens the bottle, pouring on the liquid. She brings her hand down to begin spreading it. “Oh, it’s kind of cold.” She looks at her hand for a moment, rubbing her fingers together before adding “and slimey.” The bottle gets returned to the side table and Jessie slides herself closer to you, the tip resting on your stomach.

“Just go slow.” You say, putting your hands around her shoulders and lacing your fingers together behind her head.

“I will.” She nods down at you before breaking eye contact to look down where her hips rested between your thighs. Jessie maneuvers and you feel the toy now sitting against your core. She moves it around again before looking up at you quickly then back down, adjusting her hips again causing the toy to move. You feel the tip of the toy bump against a place you definitely didn’t want it going. “Wait.” You push against Jessie’s chest and she looks up, nervously. “Um, higher up, that’s the wrong-”

“Oh my god.” Jessie immediately inches backwards from you. “I’m sorry.” You watch as she drops her head in embarrassment. “I know where it is with my fingers.” She mumbles to herself, her confidence slipping away more and more the longer she has the appendage on.

“Babe, it’s fine, here I’ll help.” You reach down to where the strap hung gently grasping just above where Jessie’s own hand was wrapped around the girth. You take the tip, letting it glide across your clit before beginning to move it downward slowly. “There.” You gently push the tip into yourself before removing your hand placing it onto Jessie’s shoulder. “Go ahead.” You say looking up at your girlfriend who still had a hint of fear in her eyes.

She gives you a small nod and you watch her body begin to move and you feel the pressure of her hips angling forward, the toy beginning to push inside. You can tell by her gaze that she's unsure of what she’s doing, watching you for approval. “Is this fine?”

“Yeah, I’m good, keep going babe.” You nod up at her. She gives you a quick smile before her concentration face returns, her eyebrows furrowed and her bottom lip being tightly bit between her teeth, her eyes wander to where the two of you are connected, still moving her hips towards you ever so slightly. You bite your lip, starting to feel a larger stretch as Jessie continues to push forward. It wasn’t painful, but there was a definite tightness as Jessie bottomed out.

It takes a moment but Jessie’s hips finally are flush to yours and you can feel the fabric of the harness against your legs. Lying there you try your best to relax your muscles, still feeling a little nervous and unfamiliar with what was happening. You're unsure of where to put your legs, did you leave them lying on the bed? Should you bend them, put them around her waist maybe?

“Does it hurt?”Jessie looks between where your hips touch and back up to your face.

“Not exactly, it's just bigger than your fingers.” Your eyes trail to her hands that lay on either side of your waist, Jessie had good fingers, long, thick, but nowhere near the girth of the toy.

“Just let me know when you’re ready.”

“Yeah, maybe try pulling back a bit.” Your fingers dig into her shoulders, anticipating discomfort when she pulls back, only finding it to be not uncomfortable, just weird.

“Right, okay.” You watch, her face still contorted in confusion and concentration. She slowly shifts her hips backward again, just a small amount and the drag of the toy inside of you has you sighing, a noise that causes Jessie to freeze. “Are you alright?”

“I’m good babe, keep going.” You encourage her, giving her shoulder a squeeze, before letting your nails gently rake along the skin of her back. She pushed back in the small amount she had pulled out before pushing back in again.

Jessie slowly pulls back again, this time she drops her head, watching the toy slide out of you. You can see her eyes widen in amazement as she watches.

“Like what you see?” Bringing your hand to her chin you gently pull her face up to watch as she blushes.

“Yeah, it’s good, it’s hot.” She says looking up at you. Jessie gets lost looking at you for a moment, her hips stalling for a bit before she picks up her motion again.

“You can try going faster, or maybe harder?” You’re not fully sure what’s going to feel good. Jessie nods, her curls bouncing in front of her face. Her face is trying to mask a level of uncertainty. “Don’t be so nervous babe, it’s just me.” You bring a hand up to her rosy cheeks, hoping the gentle touch of your fingers will reassure her again.

“I just don’t want to hurt you.” The sincerity in Jessie's voice is cute you think, she was really worried about hurting you more than anything. You also knew her concerns would likely prevent her from fully letting herself go, it would take some time and practice.

“You won’t, fuck me like you mean it.”

Her eyes widen at your vulgar ask before a small smirk comes across her face as she looks at you. She drops to her forearms, her chest meeting yours as she ruts harder into you. Her strokes become firm, a loud noise of her hips meeting yours fills the room for a second before you start hearing Jessie’s ragged breathing in your ear.

“Oh, fuck Jess.” Your words spur her on, she pushes herself up again, thrusting faster, using the full length of the toy.

You get lost in the sensation, letting small moans of pleasure fall from your mouth. Muffling your moans Jessie kisses you hard as she continues to speed up her movements. Her trusts are a bit uncoordinated, a hard one, followed by some quick ones, she’d then slow down, then some shallow, some deep. It wasn’t bad by any means, just unpredictable.

You feel Jessie pull slightly too far out, the tip falling toward the bed but notice she thrusts her hips forward. You bring a hand to her waist giving her a gentle push “Hang on, you slipped out.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, it’s fine.”

“I’m not good at this.” You watch as she starts to frown, the little bit of confidence she had gained a moment ago dwindling.

“It’s the first time Jess, it’s okay.” Your fingers draw lazy circles across her back, feeling goosebumps arise on her skin.

“Does it even feel good?”

“I mean,” you hesitate, not knowing how to exactly answer. Before you can clarify why you hesitated, Jessie talks.

“I’m sorry.”

“No baby it’s not you. I think I’m nervous, and it’s just something new, and it feels good but not in the mind blowing orgasm way,” you pause looking up at Jessie, you didn’t want to take a hit to her ego. “It’s good though, just like you being inside of me, it’s nice.” You blush as the words come from your mouth, having to break your gaze with Jessie.

“Okay. Do you want me to keep going?”

“Yeah, for a bit maybe? But, can you add more lube please.”

Jessie gives you a smile and a nod, reaching onto the bedside table and adding the liquid onto the toy. When Jessie begins to move again she gently runs the head of the toy across your core, letting it bump against your clit, causing your breath to hitch. You feel the tip at your entrance again and you nod at Jessie when she looks up confirming she’s in the right spot.

There’s a different sensation when she pushes into you this time, you feel as though you’re filled again just how you should be, not even realizing how empty you felt before. You let out a sigh of relief.

“Good?” Jessie cocks an eyebrow at you, you can see the slight smirk across her face, pleased with the reaction you had from her movement.

“Mmmhm.” You hum up at her with a nod.

Jessie lowers her body onto yours, causing the strap to shift deeper inside of you, as the warmth from her chest comes to rest on yours. It feels close, intimate, her body covering yours, your legs wrapped around her back, her face tucked tightly into the nape of your neck. You can hear her heavy breathing as she picks up again thrusting into you. In this position her thrusts are slower but more even, less sporadic, she has more control.

As you go to wrap your arms around Jessie’s back, her hands find yours first. She takes both of her hands interlacing your fingers and bringing them up to rest by the sides of your head.

With each thrust into you Jessie gives your hands a gentle squeeze. It’s a simple gesture, holding hands with Jessie but in the context, it’s overwhelming. “I love you.” You hear her mumble against your skin before she places a kiss.

“I love you.”

After a couple thrusts, Jessie releases one of her hands from yours and brings it between your bodies, she fumbles around before her fingers find your clit and she begins rubbing circles in time with her thrusts. “Is this okay?”

You suck in a breath, the mixture of Jessie’s fingers and the feeling of being full is a new sensation, one your body is still trying to process. You focus on her fingers, fingers that knew your body well, they knew what you liked, what made you feel good and that's what they were doing, making you feel good. “That's good baby.”

Despite the added pleasure from Jessie’s fingertips, you can tell you won’t cum from this. Too in your head about the toy, the newness, the unfamiliar territory, it had you slightly on edge and not the edge you wanted to be on.

“Jess.” You say gently, you hoped telling her wasn’t going to make her feel inadequate.

“Yeah?” She picks her head up from your neck, you can see the small sheen of sweat on her forehead, her baby hairs stuck to it.

“This feels good, I promise, I just don’t think it’s going to, ya know, get me there.” You cringe as you say the words, worried about what her reaction might be.

“Oh.” Her expression is surprised for a moment before her face falls, appearing disappointed. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no, babe it’s not your fault.” Holding her head in your hands you caress her cheeks. You think about what to say. If you mention you don’t feel comfortable enough, she’d blame herself for that though, it had nothing to do with her but Jessie always put her performance, in school, on the field, or in bed, on herself, even if it wasn’t her fault. You had to choose your words carefully with her. “It’s not you I promise. It’s me, I’m just not, I think it’s just I’m not used to there being something inside, it’s good, just new and I’m not quite used to it enough.”

Jessie nods in your hands but doesn’t say anything. You pull her down bringing her ear to your mouth. “Baby, you always make me feel so good, this is no different, you can still make me cum without the strap, that’s even better when you think about it, you don’t need a toy, it’s all you Jess.” Releasing the hold on her, she sits back up, careful not to move the toy around too much while still inside of you. “You always make me feel good babe.” You groan out as Jessie moves to trail her tongue down the side of your neck.

“Should I pull out?” Jessie asks, looking down at her waist.

“Yeah go ahead.” You try and relax as she pulls her hips back, pulling until the toy falls out. You notice Jessie's attention being pulled down to where the toy was now. “Hey.” She looks back up at you with a small half smile. “It’s okay Jess.” You pull her by the chin, bringing her mouth to yours, the toy sticking into your stomach again as she tries to lean over to kiss you. She giggles as her hand again reaches to press the strap up against her abdomen.

The two of you kiss, her tongue gently running over yours, softly pulling on your bottom lip with her teeth, causing you to let out a deep moan. She kisses your cheek, down to your jaw and up to place a sloppy kiss just below your earlobe.

“Can I eat you out?” She whispers following it with a couple more kisses down your neck.

“Please baby.” Your voice comes out more needy and wanting than you expected. You can feel her smirk against your neck and she continues to kiss across your chest, teasing you ever so slightly, taking her time moving down your body.

“Come on Jess.” Your hands find their way to her shoulders and you gently push her down where she was already headed, between your legs. She gives in, letting you push her between your legs. As she goes to lay down, the toy catches on the bed, preventing her from being able to fully lay down.

“Fuck this.” Jessie says sitting up and scrambling off the bed to remove the harness. You laugh at your girlfriend’s frustration with the toy as she pulls and fiddles with the various straps, until the harness loosens and falls off her waist. “Not funny.” Jessie grumbles, placing the toy onto the nightstand.

She wastes no time climbing back between your legs, her hands picking up your thighs and bringing them over her shoulders. She brings her face to your core, her tongue beginning to lick long strokes, appreciating your taste and the feeling of having her mouth back on you. She hums into you. Giving you a few more long licks, Jessie begins to pay attention to your clit.

She gives it a few flicks, her tongue firm before a slow circle around the nerves, her eyes locked on yours intensely watching as you roll them back, enjoying the feeling of her. “You’re so good at that babe, fuck.” You watch as Jessie's eyes light up at the praise. She always liked being praised, being told she was pleasing you. You feel her increase her pressure, adding more suction with her lips, putting all of her focus onto your clit.

“God Jess.” Jessie moans into you in appreciation of your words. Your hand finds the top of her head, running your hand through her hair before gently scratching her scalp, knowing the action spurred her on. You feel yourself finding the edge that you had been looking for, feeling the tightness in your stomach growing, the tightening of your thighs, your muscles all tensing. Your hand holds Jessie's head tight to you, your other hand fists the bedsheet tightly as you peak. Your hips thrust against Jessie's tongue, you feel her hands try to hold your hips steady to let her keep pleasing you, a groan of her name falls from your lips followed by a whine, beginning to feel the sensitivity of your post orgasm. Your hips buck a few more times, trying to escape the now gentle stimulation that Jessie was giving you to work you through your orgasm.

The grip on your hips loosens and Jessie pulls her tongue away after giving you one final featherlight lick, looking all too proud of herself and cockly when she pulls up, resting her cheek on your inner thigh.

“What?” you say, knowing she was just proud of herself. She always was, Jessie would get so cocky watching you fall apart from her touch.

“Nothing, I just love you.”

“I love you, ya dork, come up here.” You motion for her to come kiss you and she does, resting her body weight onto you for a moment as you lips meet. You kiss for a bit before Jessie rolls off of you, lying beside you, draping an arm across your waist.

“Thank you for trying that with me.” You quickly glance at the strap that was still sitting, covered in lube and your slick, on the bedside table.

“I’ll try anything for you baby, I just want to make you feel good.” Jessie says as she leans up, planting a heavy kiss on your lips. “I think I just need more practice.”

“Well I’ll always be interested in practicing with you Jess.”

[daydreams-after-dark]

"Stop Lift" button

NSFW // AU LEE KNOW FANFIC // female reader x Lee Minho spicy short story. Work colleagues to lovers.

You and Lee Know work together but when you find out he’s moved into the same apartment building as you things get steamy in the elevator

Approx 3.5k words

Warnings below

Warnings: elevator sex // oral sex (both rec) // unprotected vaginal sex // orgasms // dirty talk // names "slut", "whore" // nudity // masturbation // vibrators // panty fetish

You hop in the elevator of your apartment building and press the button for the 4th floor. It’s late afternoon, around 4pm, and you were able to get away from work a little earlier than usual. Well, actually you gave yourself a well deserved early mark because you had finally finished a project you'd been working on. It’d had taken you months. Months of brain energy, late nights and a shit load of coffee.

You're feeling so good that you'd decided to use the lift rather than climbing the stairs. The lift is unreliable at best. When it’s not breaking down, it’s slow and clunky and makes this weird whiny noise as it moves up and down the lift shaft. The stairs would have been quicker but hey, you have heels on, and you're wearing your new lavender knit wrap dress. It clings to all the right places. You feel like sex on legs. Someone who is sex on legs does not take the stairs. Right?

The lift doors haven’t even closed yet, it’s that fucking slow, and you catch sight of someone coming towards the lift. Damn it, it’s rare that you have to share a lift with anyone. How irritating.

Irritating until you catch sight of who is trying to get into the lift. Then it just turns horrifying. Oh my god! You almost die on the spot. It’s that Lee Minho from the accounts department at your work. Lee Minho that looked like he was going to eat you alive the first time he saw you two months ago. Lee Minho who you thought hated you and you hated him, but you ended up flirting your your ass off with at last weeks boozy karaoke night in the office.

Lee Minho that you snuck off with into a stationary storeroom and almost had sex with. “Do you like this, kitten.” He’d whispered in your ear when his hand slipped up your dress and gripped your ass. You could still feel his hands up your skirt now and you clenched at the memory. “You look so fucking tempting flirting with me like that?” He had growled low. “I could take you right now if you’ll let me, little kitten.” He’d stated as he fingered your pussy.

Who knows what would’ve happened if someone hadn’t set of a fire alarm and he was insistent that you had better evacuate.

It’s not that you wouldn’t consider going on a date with him, or fucking him in a work closet. It’s just work are gossips and you learned the hard way about the repercussions of sleeping with men at work.

But why the fuck is Lee Minho getting in the lift in your apartment building?

“Hold the lift” Minho says as he hurries inside, and you push the thoughts of him in a closet out of your head.

“You don’t need to hurry, this thing is slow. You’d be better to climb the steps.” you offer trying to be calm.

He turns to look at you and his eyes grow wide. “y/n!” He beams “I wasn’t expecting to run into you. Wow! Do you live here?”

I nod “Yep! I live in this shit hole. Wait. Why are you here?”

“I’m… we’ll,” he scratches his head “I’ve just moved in on level 3.” He smirked. “We’ll probably run into each other a lot.” He added with that eat-you-alive look all over his face.

You take in that new piece of information as he looks to the panel the floor numbers and presses the 3rd floor, and you try to sneakily check him out. Like you always do when he happens to be near you. No wonder you dry humped him in the cupboard. He is slim, but it’s obvious he is also strong and toned, and his light sandy brown hair falls around his face in quite an annoyingly attractive way.

“So… you never did answer me the other day.” He glanced at you and raised an eyebrow.

“Huh?” You are taken out of your thoughts.

“About sharing a meal with me. You never answered.”

That’s right, during the fiasco amongst the paper and paperclips he’d asked you out for a meal.

It’s only now that the doors finally close and the lift mechanisms kick into gear ready to take you up to our respective floors.

“Yes, I guess that would be okay.” It slips out of your mouth before you could stop it.

Minho suddenly turns to you and takes a step closer, giving you his full attention. Fuck he is beautiful. And deadly. His proximity is sparking arousal throughout your body, much like when you were drunk and you feel yourself getting wet.

“I…I just don’t know when would be convenient.” you say it quickly to distract yourself from the tension between your legs. The sexual energy between you is thick. He feels it too, you're sure of it. You automatically look down to his crotch to find he is hard. You can see the bulge under his navy trousers. God you'd love to let his cock free. You look back up to meet his dark gaze.

He comes closer now, like he is cornering his prey, closing in on you. The lift has only just passed level 1. Your breath hitches and your exhale is more of a shudder than anything else. You take a step back but you are now pushed against the wall, the hand rail pushing against your lower back.

Without breaking eye contact with you, Minho slams the “Stop Lift” button and the elevator grinds to a halt.

“Is this convenient, kitten?” He says bluntly, leaning in so he is merely centimeters from your face. You couldn’t escape even if you wanted to. You don’t want to.

“W-what do you mean?” you whisper. Your handbag falls to the carpeted floor, spilling half the contents out all over the place.

He rests his left arm on the wall beside your head and brings his right hand up to your jaw. With his index finger he traces your jawline delicately. Slowly. Dangerously. Then proceeds to trace his finger down the front of your neck towards your cleavage.

“Ah, I suppose I wasn’t entirely clear, sweetheart.” His finger reaches the top edge of the very low neckline of your dress and he rests his fingers on the top bulge of your breast. Your chest is rising and falling rapidly as your heart rate and breathing increase. He knows what he is doing to you.

“When I said share a meal with me,” he licks his lower lip hungrily and his eyes follow his hand as it slips down to the belt tie of your dress and resting there.

“I meant that you’re the meal.” He looks back up to you but his hand hasn’t moved.

“Would that be okay. Kitten?”

Sweet fucking Jesus! You try to remember to breathe.

Would it be okay? Right here in the lift?

In that moment you lost all sense of reason. A lift is much riskier than a cupboard, but this man is turning you on so much your brain is mush. Your mind flashes back to how Minho spoke to you in the cupboard, and how close you’d been to letting him fuck you while all your colleagues were merely metres away from you.

“Yes… it’s convenient.” Your voice sounds raspy.

You want to share everything you can with this sexy specimen. Right now.

“Let’s see what we’ve got here then?” Minho tugs at your dress’s tie-belt and it loosens easily. The knit fabric falling open to expose your bare skin and underwear. You hold your breath waiting for what he might do next.

“You’ve worn this for me?” He smirks, taking in the site of your lingerie and half naked body. “I saw you walking around the office today. I didn’t know what kind of slutty lingerie you had on, though. Hmm.” He resumes tracing your skin, this time skirting the hem of the top of your black satin push-up bra and then cupping your breast in his hand. Minho exhales sharply and takes both of his hands and drags them down your stomach as he sinks to his knees.

You grab the handrail that you've been pressed up against, and steady yourself. Minho’s fingers are now tracing over your teeny tiny black g-string.

“Ah, you’ve packaged this up nicely for me too. You’re such a whore. You were probably hoping I’d get to see this, huh?” His left hand reaches around to grasp your bare right cheek and begins to stroke his finger against your lips, still through the underwear. The satin fabric makes it easy to glide his finger up and down. You are sopping wet now and your body is aching to be penetrated.

You think he is going to slide your underwear down your legs, but instead he loops his finger around the underside and tugs it to the side.

With the thong out of the way, he slips a finger through your bare lips. You groan at the sensation. You are slick and slippery and it takes Minho no effort to slip a finger inside of you. You grip the handrail and throw your head back. It’s been so long since you've had a man do this to you.

“So fucking ready.” He comments. “It looks like you’ve got dinner all ready for me. Just for me. You’re whole fucking outfit, these heels,” he gestures to your shoes, “the black lingerie. It’s like you knew I would be devouring you today.” He pumps his fingers in and out of you and squeezes your ass hard. You gasp with the sudden forcefulness.

“You don’t want to let your dinner get cold then.” you challenge him, you're dying for his face to be buried in your pussy.

Minho growls. Your bold remark spurs him on and the next thing you know his face is between your legs, his tongue presses up against your clit. He is not gentle, but this is not the time for that. You are hungry and ravenous too and you want it hard and dirty. Delicate just won’t cut it.

From the way Minho is ravishing you it appears he hasn’t eaten in a month! His grunts and enthusiasm makes you feel delicious.

You continue to hold the handrail and he forces one of your thighs over his shoulder, propping you up and allowing him more access. His tongue slips inside you now.

You realise that you haven’t actually touched him at all yet. You want to suck his cock. You've decided. Even though you haven’t reached an orgasm, you unhook your leg from Minho’s shoulder and guide him back to standing.

“Wait, why did you take my dinner away? Kitten?” he demands, diving in to nip at your neck, his hands all over you. You can smell your wetness on his breath. You wonder if he is going to kiss you.

You push him off you and give him a seductive look. You bite your lip as you cast your eyes down to his jeans. You definitely want to suck his cock.

You begin to undo the button on his trousers, and ever so slowly unzip his fly. You pull his pants and boxers down just enough so that you can release his cock. It’s your turn to slink down to your knees and you're now face to face with his enormous, hard, throbbing erection. You clasp a hand around his shaft and position yourself to take him in your mouth. You begin by licking the pre-cum off the tip and his cock twitches. Minho sucks his breath through his teeth.

“That’s it kitten.” He encourages. You sink your mouth down around his cock and take it as far back as you can. You can’t get all of him in your mouth. You haven’t mastered deep throating, so you have to rely on your tongue and hand technique.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” you must be doing okay then. “You’re such a dirty slut kneeling on this filthy floor with cock in your mouth.”

Oh you like this dirty talk. You increase your pace and allow yourself to become more aggressive, needy and messy. You let saliva run down your hand as you stroke him and you moan and hum like it’s the best dick you've ever tasted. It is the best dick you've ever tasted.

Minho grabs the back of your head, tangling his fingers through your hair and forces you to hold steady as he begins to fuck your face. He grunts and moans with each thrust. Your eyes become watery and he is careful not to go any deeper than what you can handle. You dig your nails of your other hand into his ass and he growls like some sort of wild animal. His erection is so hard and swollen in your mouth that you're sure he is going to come any moment. You are about to pump him harder when suddenly he pulls out of your mouth and lifts you back off the floor pushing you hard against the wall where you started. Hooking an arm under each of your thighs he lifts you to perch on the handrail, your dress hanging open and slipping off a shoulder.

He aggressively and passionately gropes your breasts with one hand, holding you in place with his other. Finally, he grabs your face and forcefully, greedily, smashes his mouth against yours. You open your mouth for his tongue and he obliges you with a deep, erotic kiss. You can taste yourself mingled with mint, his tongue dancing with yours.

This sends your vagina crazy. Fuck me already you think.

As if reading your thoughts, Minho pulls back enough to reach down to your g-string and literally rips one side, then the other, angry that it dared to be there.

Now you're truly exposed. You hold onto his shoulders and he comes in close between your legs, and with one hand pinning you in place, he grips his cock with his other, and directs the head to push against your entrance. You need it so bad. You are on the verge of begging him to fuck you now.

His jaw hangs slack and his tongue pokes out the side of his mouth as he watches the tip of his cock rub up and down your lips, which is fucking dripping now. He slides it up through your lips once, twice, and then thrusts himself all the way inside of you in one motion. You cry out as you feel like you’ve been split in two as his hips meet your body. Minho pauses for a moment to let you adjust to him being inside of you.

“You’re dying for cock aren’t you? Look how well you take me. So greedy for my dick.” He leans his forehead against yours. “Are you ready to have your brains fucked out?”

He starts to thrust in and out of you at a forceful pace.

“You know, Minho,” you pant, “I think you might be the slut. So desperate to fuck a woman in a filthy elevator”.

That was enough to tip Minho over the edge. With both arms hooked under each of your legs, he digs his fingers into your thighs and begins to slam into you at an exceptionally hard and fast pace. Your are so wet that his penis threatens to slip out, but Minho does well to thrust it back into you before that happens, until on one withdrawal it slips out entirely and you both groan in frustration and need.

He pushes his cock back in moaning in relief that it’s back inside. He pulls down the sleeves of your dress, biting and kissing your shoulder.

“You know, kitten,” he says hoarsely between breaths, “maybe we are just two needy sluts who enjoy fucking in the elevator.” He grins, and you laugh. But your laughing doesn’t last long because you are both so very close now.

You can feel the head of his cock pounding into your cervix. With every contact you scream louder and louder. He is so deep and you're living for it. His thrusts start to become a little staggered and wobbly. He is close, but so are you, and you are going to come God Damn it.

You hold tighter to his shoulders and you start to buck against him and he resumes holding your thighs and ass to support you.

“Come for me, come on my cock. That’s it kitten.” He concentrates on keeping steady so you can set the rhythm, and you come so hard your body shakes and shudders. You cry out as your climax overwhelms you.

“That’s it, good girl. You such a slut for my cock, huh?” he kisses your mouth.

“Mmm hmm.” you respond and you bite his tongue. “Now it’s your turn. Fuck me and fill me up with your cum.” you say filthily. This whole scenario is so dirty. Raw, dirty, sex. In a public place. With Minho.

You take his face in your hands “come in me.” you whisper breathlessly.

All it took was two more hard final thrusts and you could feel his semen release high up inside of you, painting your insides. Minho relaxes against your body. “Fuck that was so fucking… grrr. So good.” He growls and pulls out of you leaving you feeling empty.

You try to catch your breath and compose yourself as you redress, sans panties, and try to straighten your hair. Minho packs his cock away safely and bends down to gather all the things that had fallen out of your bag while you put a shoe back on. You didn’t even know it had fallen off!

“Here you go, kitten.” He passes you your handbag and presses the lift button so that it starts moving again. You hope no one had been waiting to use it.

“Thanks Minho.” you smile. He is so addicting.

The lift opens on level 3 and Minho steps out of the lift. Fuck, his ass is beautiful too.

Finally you reach your floor. You can feel Minho’s cum dribbling down your leg. You hurriedly hop out of the lift and rummage around your bag for your keys. While you’re searching, you realise your underwear isn’t in there! You keep rummaging. No way! You know they weren’t left on the elevator floor, you'd checked that nothing was left behind. Minho. The fucker. The kinky fucker. He’s fucking taken your underwear!

You should be angry, but you're more amused, and if you're honest very turned on.

That night, you lay in bed fantasising about your little escapade in the lift. You wonder what he is doing right now? Is he laying there with your panties wrapped around his cock while he jerks off and cums all over them? You reach into your bedside draw for your vibrator, and spend the next little while relishing in thought of Minho fucking your underwear.

——————————————————————

On the floor below, Minho takes a quick shower but his mind is still in the elevator with you. He hadn’t intended for it to go that far, he just wanted to eat you out, but you had other ideas.

He looks down at his penis “She really liked you doesn’t she?” he says to it endearingly.

Minho turns off the tap and dries off. He doesn’t dress. Living alone is convenient like that. You can do whatever you wanted. Don’t want to wear clothes? Don’t have to.

He strolls over to his bed and perches himself on the edge. He really can’t get you out of his head. He turns to his trousers that he had tossed on the bed earlier. Hmm that’s right, he thinks to himself as he reaches into the front pocket and pulls out the your torn panties. The panties he had torn off your delicious body. His cock twitches with the memory. He reaches in again and pulls out another item that he had taken when he was picking the things that had fallen out of your handbag. A lipstick.

Minho gets into bed and leans against the headboard, holding the items he stole. Is he a pervert? The black satin g-string was beyond repair, and he could see where you had been wet and leaking onto the fabric. He bites his lip. Then he takes the lipstick in his hand. He has an idea. His plan is to smear some of the lipstick around his cock to make it look like you had just sucked him off. Then he will jerk off.

But Minho is having trouble. How the hell do you get the lid off? He takes a closer look. A button. Okay let’s press that.

Buzzzzzz. It’s not a lipstick. It’s a mini bullet vibrator!

Arousal rushes to his cock. So you carry this around with you then? You are truly something!

He lays back into the mattress and places the vibrator against his balls. Mmmm! So good, especially because he knows that you have used this to pleasure yourself. Have all your juices smeared all over it. Have shaken and convulsed on it. Minho shudders and exhales a shaky breath. He takes the torn panties and places it over his face. He wants to, no needs to, smell you. Taste you. Savor you.

With his free hand he reaches for his lube that he keeps under his pillow and squirts a generous amount all over the head of his cock. He starts to stroke himself rhythmically, breathing in as much of your scent as he can.

He imagines your sitting on his face. Your heels next to his head, and that you’re the one pumping his cock. He begins to buck his hips as he fucks his own hand. Faster and harder. He licks the panties pretending he is sucking and licking your pussy. Imagining you are moaning and coming on his face.

He visualises you sinking your mouth onto his cock all the way to the hilt. He knew you couldn’t take him all in, but in his imagination you are deep throating him, and using your vibrator to bring him to orgasm. Fuck. Minho’s cum covers his hand and paints his stomach. That was quick, but intense.

He relaxes his muscles, exhausted and satisfied and basks in the feelings of pleasure as he calms his heart rate.

He decides he needs to have another shower.

@noellllslut @kangnina @weareapackofstrays @newhope8 @queen-in-the-shadows @queenmea604

[awkward-walking-potato]

hello! i have a request for logan :)

logan has always loved (y/n). she has the same powers as wanda maximoff and left the school because she had a hard time controlling them and didn’t want to put anyone in danger. months later, when the school is under attack, charles asks for her help telepathically and she comes. logan is impressed by the way she now has full control over her mutation and he finally confesses when they’re not in danger anymore.

please & thank you!

Controlled Chaos

The Xavier Institute stood quiet under the moonlight, but the peace didn’t last long. The alarms blared through the mansion, signaling an attack. Logan’s claws unsheathed with a familiar snikt as he prepared for the inevitable battle. It had been months since you left, and every time there was a fight, his thoughts drifted to you.

You had powers like Wanda Maximoff—an ability to warp reality, move objects with a flick of your wrist, and manipulate chaos energy. But your powers were wild, uncontrollable. The fear of hurting others had driven you away, leaving Logan with an empty space in his chest that only you had filled.

Charles had tried everything to keep you there, offering help and support, but you needed time—time to find yourself, to gain control. Logan had wanted to go after you, but he respected your decision, as painful as it had been for him.

Tonight, however, something felt different. He could sense it in the way Charles’ eyes narrowed, his usual calm demeanor rattled as the enemy breached their defenses.

“Logan,” Charles said suddenly, his voice projecting into Logan’s mind. “I’ve called for help.”

Logan grunted, slicing through an attacking Sentinel with ease. “Help? From who?”

Charles didn’t answer immediately, his attention focused elsewhere. But then Logan heard it—the soft, familiar hum of energy crackling in the distance. His heart skipped a beat, an overwhelming sense of hope and dread settling in his chest.

It couldn’t be.

And then you appeared, stepping through the mansion doors with confidence radiating from you. Your presence commanded attention, the air around you humming with power. You wore a determined expression, eyes glowing faintly with the energy you now controlled with ease. Every movement was purposeful, fluid, as if you had mastered the chaos within yourself.

Logan’s breath caught in his throat as he watched you dismantle the Sentinels with a flick of your wrist, their parts crumbling like dust before they could even touch the ground. It was mesmerizing, seeing you so in control, so strong. You were everything he always knew you could be.

He barely noticed the fight around him as you worked alongside the team, your powers weaving through the battlefield with deadly precision. He had missed you, more than he’d ever let on, and now that you were here, Logan felt a surge of emotions he couldn’t push down anymore.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the battle was over. The mansion was quiet once again, the debris settling as the last of the attackers were dealt with. Logan sheathed his claws, turning to find you standing at the edge of the courtyard, catching your breath.

Without thinking, he approached you, his heart pounding in his chest. The moonlight cast a soft glow over you, and for a moment, it felt like nothing had changed between you two. Like you hadn’t left.

“You’ve… gotten stronger,” Logan muttered, his voice gruff as he stepped closer to you.

You smiled softly, wiping a bit of dirt from your face. “I’ve had a lot of time to practice.”

He nodded, his gaze lingering on you. You were still the same person he had fallen for—kind, powerful, a force of nature. But now, there was a sense of peace about you, a control that made you even more breathtaking.

“I didn’t think you’d come back,” Logan admitted, his voice quieter now. “After you left, I figured…”

You shook your head, stepping toward him. “I never wanted to leave. I just… I had to learn to control it. I didn’t want to hurt anyone.”

“You wouldn’t have,” Logan said, his voice firmer now. “You wouldn’t have hurt anyone, (Y/N).”

You looked at him, your eyes softening. “I wasn’t sure. But now… now I am.”

The silence between you stretched for a moment, the tension thick in the air. Logan wanted to say something, wanted to tell you how much he had missed you, how much it hurt when you left, how he had spent every night thinking about what could have been.

Instead, he just stood there, his jaw clenched as he struggled with the weight of his feelings. But you could sense it, could feel the emotions swirling in him just as clearly as you could see the sparks of chaos energy that still lingered around you.

“Logan…” you started softly, stepping even closer. “Why did you never tell me?”

His eyes flicked up to meet yours, confusion crossing his features. “Tell you what?”

“That you care about me,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “That you—”

“I thought it was obvious,” Logan cut in, his voice low and gravelly. He ran a hand through his hair, the frustration clear in his tone. “I thought I showed it, every damn day. But you left before I could—” He stopped, shaking his head. “Hell, I didn’t want to push you away.”

Your heart clenched at his words, and suddenly, everything clicked. The looks, the way he always stood just a little closer than anyone else, the way his protectiveness went beyond the usual team dynamic. He had always cared. You had just been too caught up in your own struggles to see it.

“I didn’t leave because of you, Logan,” you said gently. “I left because of me.”

“I know,” he replied quietly. “But it didn’t make it any easier.”

You took a deep breath, your hands trembling slightly as the chaos energy buzzed under your skin. “I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Logan’s eyes softened, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he let himself believe it. Slowly, he reached out, taking your hand in his. His touch was gentle, almost hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to hold onto you.

But you didn’t pull away. Instead, you squeezed his hand, a soft smile tugging at your lips.

“You’ve always had control,” Logan said quietly. “Over your powers, over everything. You just needed to see it.”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. “I think I needed someone to remind me.”

Logan’s thumb brushed over your knuckles, his gaze locked on yours. “I’m not good with words, (Y/N). But I care about you. More than I’ve ever cared about anyone.”

Your breath hitched, the weight of his confession hitting you like a tidal wave. “Logan…”

“I should’ve said it sooner,” he muttered, looking down at your joined hands. “Should’ve told you how much you mean to me.”

You stepped closer, your free hand reaching up to gently cup his cheek. “I think I already knew.”

Logan’s eyes met yours again, and for the first time in months, the tension between you dissolved. Slowly, carefully, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was both soft and full of unspoken promises.

When you finally pulled away, Logan rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“I love you,” he murmured, the words falling from his lips like a secret he had been holding onto for far too long.

Your heart swelled, and with a soft smile, you whispered back, “I love you too, Logan.”

And for the first time in a long time, everything felt right.

[glucosegaurdian]

While I’m down the Koby rabbit hole, I figured I’d post some sketches I’ve done of him from @okiedoketm’s KANGVCD fic where he joins the Strawhats!

One of my two favorite Koby fics and I’ve been working on and hoarding these for a couple months now :)

He makes me so happy, he’s trying so hard to make sure the timeline ends up okay, but to any outside point of view he’s just a psychotic teenager who will visibly give up on manners midway through a day and go apeshit.

He’s got the manners, but no one knows the exact minute he’ll drop them for the day and beat someone’s ass. It has happened on multiple occasions and Nami lives in fear for her wallet and paying for collateral.

[uhohdad]

EXPERIMENTAL

it’s been awhile since i’ve written please mind the rust

Summary: Konig helps Researcher!Reader with a new technology they’ve been developing.

AO3 Link: X

PART TWO: X

Word Count: 5,4k

Warnings: Flirting, Sexual Content, NSFW, Reader x Konig, talk of standard war stuff, Reader is a bit of a pervert. Non-con Voyeurism. Reader has anxious thoughts/low-self esteem-ish? No use of y/n, reader’s gender/sex is incomprehensible, cause I do for the girls the gays and the theys.

NSFW UNDER CUT

You never thought you’d end up working for the government, but the opportunity was too good. Where else would you find a grant to experiment if not for the generous funding of the military industrial complex? You should have known. Research is research, you told yourself, and the pay is too good to pass up on.

Most of your time was spent in the lab. For the most part, you had worked alone, spending up to 14 hours a day working on your project. It had been months, but you’re sure your developments will forever change warfare.

How many deaths will your creations be responsible for? How much blood on your hands?

No. It’s just a job.

You let out a deep sigh. Usually you have background noise - music, a show, a podcast - something to help ward off the obsessive thoughts. But today you had visitors coming.

You had requested a test subject for a beta version of your project. A soldier to help work out the bugs before the final version gets sent on the battlefield.

Battlefield.

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about-

A knock interrupted your internal conflict. You looked up, your eyes meeting the visitor through the circular glass pane of the swinging door. Just his eyes, as the visitor wore a black mask that draped from underneath a helmet, flowing over his shoulders and down his chest. You couldn’t help the concerned look that crossed your face as you hesitantly waved him in.

The door creaked as it opened and the man stepped in. You shoulders eased a bit when you noticed the uniform previously obscured by the door, confirming he was a soldier from the base and not an intruder in a mask. You couldn’t help but tense again once you noticed his stature. Even from across the room you could tell he was well over 6’5. You’re sure he could reach his hand up and touch the ceiling with ease. Muscles with enough mass and definition to be seen even under the uniform.

What are they feeding these boys?

“Hi! I mean- hi. Uh,” Your introduction was shaky, but it was on par for your typical social interactions. After giving him your name, you asked for his.

“Konig,” He responded, his deep voice and coarse accent catching you off guard once again.

“Ha, yes. Nice to meet you.” You took a deep breath in hopes to conceal your fluster before continuing, “You’re here to help me test the new tech, right?”

Konig shifts in his spot a few paces from the door, not daring to step any closer to you. You’re wonder if you were coming off as too cold. “Uh, yes.” He clears his throat, “Just let me know what you need from me.”

Okay, straight to the point. You can do that. You’re happy to move on from the unsteady introduction. “Right,” You turn your attention from him to your laptop and the project in front of you. You hold up your device for him to see. He takes this as his invitation to move closer to get a better look, his black boots making their presence known as they stepped across the tile. The device resembled an earpiece - a small black strip attached to a coiled wire that ends with a sensible black base. “It doesn’t have a name. Yet.” You find yourself struggling to make eye contact with Konig, “Uh, here, it might be easier to just show you.” You flip the laptop around so he can see the screen. He’s standing right next to you now, and it’s hard not to notice how small you feel standing next to this giant of a man.

His bicep is the width of my head.

Stop it.

You try to smother your distracted thoughts as you put the device behind your ear and turn it on. A transparent projection in the shape of a curved rectangle covers your eyes, overlaying your view of the lab.

Konig watched silently as the screen on your laptop changed, now displaying your view through the lens. “This device is powered by AI.” You felt more confident now. You weren’t great at small talk but your work was your comfort zone.

“The possibilities are endless. Without being fed blueprints or GPS - it’s able to scan & provide a map of a building before you even set foot in it, and give you the safest path trajectories.” You make some adjustments from the laptop, and the projection overlays filters on your vision. Directional arrows appear, showing the easiest exit from the lab with coordinates and distance countdown to destination.

You continue, “Target identification.” You look at Konig from behind the transparent projection. He meets your eyes before quickly shifting his gaze back to the laptop, where he could see himself outlined in a bright red overlay.

“Scanning capabilities, even through solid objects. It can identify any object you want. Not just objects, either.” You turn your gaze toward the lab wall. Konig watches carefully as the faded outlines of workers on the base from rooms away appear, their heart rates and heat map registering from beyond the cold tile walls.

Konig stares, impossible to read.

“And uhm,” you pick up an additional device from the table, a thin square chip, “This is an attachment for your, er, weapon.” You cringe a bit at this feature, “The AI has aim assist, too. You know self driving cars? Ah, well, it hasn’t been fully tested yet, but in addition to auto aim it- uhm,” You can’t help but let out a nervous laugh, trailing off.

“It shoots for you.” Konig finishes so you don’t have to.

You wonder if the guilt is obvious.

It might as well be you out there in the field, taking lives. He’s probably disgusted with you under that hood, you think.

You purse your lips for a moment, “Yes. But we’re just scratching the surface. This technology is capable of-“

“It’s brilliant,”

Konig is skilled in the art of catching you off guard. He tilts his head, curiously eyeing in your direction. You wonder if he’s looking at your features or the projection,

“You made this yourself?”

You study him back, trying to figure out if he was mocking you, but unable to decipher his expression from under his hood. The AI continued to monitor him on your vision, and you felt as if you were violating his privacy by watching his heart rate slightly spike as he looked you over.

He must be lying.

You turned the device off and set it on the table, “Yes. It’s not perfect, but I’m hoping you can help me work out all the flaws.”

His stared quietly for a moment and you felt dread pool in your stomach, wishing you could see his expression under his hood. “I’d be honored to.”

A shaky smile formed on your face. You could no longer read his heart rate, but you found yourself wanting to believe the sincerity of his voice. “Let’s get started.”

You pick up another matching set of devices, two thin c-shaped bands, before continuing, “Obviously you can’t take a laptop out in the field. These are portable remotes.” Konig watches attentively as you place one of the bracelet shaped device on your wrist, tapping on it to summon another projection. “I tried to make it as user-friendly as possible. We can make adjustments if needed before launch.” You hold out the device toward him. “For you.”

He looks hesitantly at the device. Instead of taking it from you, he places his arm out on the table in front of you.

You’re distracted by your own remote and a moment passes before you register he hasn’t taken it from you. You glance over at his outstretched arm before meeting his eyes.

He sees your confused look and explains, “I just- I don’t want to break it.” Konig knows his own strength and he knows the worth of your project. He doesn’t want to accidentally apply too much pressure and ruin your work.

A nervous laugh escapes you, but you oblige him. You made this device for the battlefield, it’s meant to withstand more than a man. Even an extra large, muscular-

Stop it.

You’re not going to push. You carefully take his forearm in your hand, adjusting the device to his wrist. You try not think about how muscular and hard his forearms are, and try even harder not to think about how hard his biceps would be. And you definitively try not to think about how hard his-

Stop it.

“That comfortable?”

His voice is low, “Yes. Thank you.”

“Of course,” leaves your mouth, a little breathier than you intended.

Your face burns and you’re sure he’s got you pinned. You wish you could ask to borrow his mask.

It’s been a long time since you’ve experienced intimacy, okay? You’ve been confined to these four walls for months now, devoid of human touch. You’d be frothing at the mouth for anything bipedal at this point, let alone the mysterious superhuman sitting across from you.

You’re at a disadvantage, to say the least.

You can’t even look at him.

Konig carefully taps on the device on his wrist, activating his remote. The projection appears and he moves his arm to get a closer look. “This is the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen.”

If he didn’t notice your blush before he was sure to now. “Oh! I don’t-“ Another nervous laugh, “It’s nothing. Let’s get you calibrated.”

You pick up the earpiece and hand it to him, still avoiding his gaze. You’re forced to meet his eyes again when he doesn’t take it. There’s no way you could handle putting this one on for him. This time you reassure him, “It’s okay. I know it’s small, but it’s durable. I promise.”

He carefully takes it from you, and you try not to notice the electricity you feel when his fingers graze yours. He reaches under his hood, the fabric warping as he places the device behind his ear and turned it on, the same way he watched you do it. He then waited patiently for your guidance.

You put your earpiece on before making a few adjustments on your bracelets projection. “Okay! We should be synced now. Go ahead and pull up your settings.”

You take him through the customizations, telling him how to switch between visual overlays, how to use multiple at once. Display adjustments, how to use the intercom. He watches intently, never interrupting.

“I hope I’m not boring you.”

“Boring me?” Konig stares at you, eyes saturated with disbelief at your doubt. “It’s incredible.”

You feel the warmth creep up on your cheeks again. All of the doubts and moral dilemmas you’ve been mulling over the past few years seem to melt away when Konig compliments you.

“Want to take it for a drive?”

“Absolutely.”

—————————————————-

It’s been awhile since you’ve been out on the field. The passed months have been spent under the florescent lights of the lab, hunched over your laptop as you fought with code. Feeling accomplished when you made a step forward in progress, followed quickly by a sinking feeling as you tried not to think of the consequences of each development.

It was nice to feel the sun for a change.

Konig followed a few steps behind you, both sets of boots crunching on the gravel beneath you. Few words had been exchanged. There was something about unreadable people made you nervous, but you tried not to let it show.

You stopped once in front of the empty shoot house, looking up to the soldier that towered over you.

“I had weapons development make us a prototype gun to pair with the AI. It’s for testing purposes only, so it doesn’t shoot real bullets.” You pointed at the faux shotgun propped up against the outer wall of the shoot house. “The auto aim chip is already attached. It’s going to be something to get used to.”

You continue, “I’ve placed the AI on test. It will simulate the conditions of a mission in a way that adjusts to your learning speed. Obviously once you get used the system we’ll have test runs with real people, but for now I just want you to get used to the overlays. If you get stumped, just let me know. I’ll be able to hear and see what you can from out here. I’m synced in to your device, too, so if you can’t figure out the adjustments, or can’t access your device, I can take care of that for you remotely.”

“Understood.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the way he spoke to you like you had seniority, with the utmost respect. It made you feel important. Really it should be the other way around - a nerdy weakling in the presence of an experienced and powerful soldier. You briefly wonder what exactly a man of his stature is capable of. He looks like he could pick up a grown man and snap him in half like a toothpick. Let alone what he could do to you…

You force yourself to stay on topic, but your smile lingers, “Any questions for me?”

You still can’t decipher what’s going on under the mask, but his voice is soft, as soft as it can be under his rigid accent, “Negative.” He walks over to the prop gun and picks it up, handling it expertly. Even though it’s a replica, he still opens the chamber and curiously peaks inside. Watching his big hands run over the realistic firearm caused an intoxicating mixture of fear and arousal to wash over you, manifesting as a tightness in your lower gut. You can’t remember the last time someone made you feel this way. Dizzy and excited and nervous.

It didn’t help that you’ve spent the last few months practically isolated and without intimacy.

He’s going to be the death of me.

Stop it. We’re just excited about testing the project. It’s a long time coming.

He would make me come a long time.

Stop. It.

After you watch him disappear into the shoot house, you turn on the intercom, “Konig? Can you hear me?”

“Affirmative.”

His gravely voice flooding your intercom is not helping your dirty thoughts. You pull up his view on your projection. “Okay, I have your video feed. Are you ready for the simulation?”

He cocks the prop gun so loud you could hear it from inside the building in addition to the comm. “Affirmative.”

Oh, fuck.

The knot in your stomach doubles and you think your knees might just buckle. You shift in your spot in the dirt to steady yourself, gravel scraping under your shoe.

You hear your name over the comm. “You still there?” Your attention is brought back to his view. You can see the world from his eye level and get taken aback at how different it looks compared to yours.

“Sorry,” you clear your throat, raising your arm equipped with the wrist remote, “Okay, in 3… 2… 1…” You press the button to start his test simulation.

You watch as Konig looks around. He’s got target scan activated, and the AI has overlaid fake targets onto his projection for him to hunt and eliminate.

You watch carefully, scanning the screen for any imperfections in your coding. The guide seems to be working smoothly, directing Konig through the maze-like hallways of the shoot house with ease. The placement of targets are generated randomly and you’ll have to crunch the numbers later to verify, but it seems to have accurately calculated the most efficient route, directing him accordingly. You try to ignore the sound of Konigs hitched breathing over your receiver and try even harder to ignore the way it’s making you feel. Instead you make sure the auto aim function is activated.

“Approaching first target.” He says over the comm and you can help but smile at how serious he is taking it. You remember your first time in the range, testing out the auto aim on the simulations. How silly you felt. Like a child playing with a toy gun. You think it’s sweet he’s indulging you.

His steps become quieter as he rounds the corner and his breathing slows. He pauses briefly before quickly jumping out at the target. You can tell the auto aim takes over and the shotgun pulls against his grip with the force of a strong magnet. It’s alarming at first, you remember, the gun taking control from you.

It’s not like that, of course. You designed it to be a teammate. Able to identify and terminate a threat before the user had even registered it was there. It was meant to protect the user, to defend their life.

That’s what you tried to tell yourself anyway. It was easier to swallow than thinking of it as the automatic killing robot it really was.

You kept the auto-fire function off for now. Partially because you wanted to slowly transition him into the AI features. Partially because you were ashamed.

You watch as Konig takes back control of the gun. He’ll learn how to work with it instead of against it soon, you remember the same struggle you had yourself in early testing. He fires at the target, a projection of an enemy soldier the AI had slowed for training purposes. Konig pulls the trigger and you hear the sound of gunshots. In real life, of course, nothing had fired. But the AI simulation was designed to immerse the player, imitating the feel of the battlefield. From Konig’s perspective he may as well just shot through a human heart. Other than the learning curve of your designs- it seems natural for him.

It was not natural for you when you had experienced the simulation. If anything it was just a fully immersible prediction of the consequences to your actions. Fuck Around and Find Out™️ now coming to an VR headset near you.

You watched his target drop & fade away in a dust of pixels, a design change you made after being unable to bear the look of replicated dead soldiers lying limp on the floor.

It’s just a job.

“Konig? How did that feel?” You wished you could see his face on the screen before remembering you wouldn’t have been able to see anything behind his hood anyway. You briefly consider a self-facing camera, but wonder if it would be for the improvement of the design or for self-serving reasons. You’d have to think of another good purpose to add it to the final product later.

“It’s a lot faster than I am.” He stuck with the facts, not wanting to cause a misunderstanding if it was strange for him to get used to.

“That’s the idea. Weird, right?” You offered, your smile lifting the tone of your voice.

“Very.” You could tell he was smiling too. “I want to try a few more - I’ll get used to it.”

He continues through the shoot house, approaching the next simulated targets. He’s slowing learning to work with the AI, letting it guide him as he controls the trigger. You watch as your program learns his skill, escalating the challenge first by increasing enemy speed and difficulty, then by adding multiple targets at a time.

You can tell this man is a trained killer, even just from watching a trial. It’s clear he’d easily be able to handle a real mission with ease - your advancements or no. Watching his gloved hands grip the gun, his quickened breathing, made the tightness in your lower half hard to ignore. It felt wrong how his rugged demeanor turned you on.

He continued without faltering, navigating the shoot house’s maze-like layout with the help of your guidance program. Despite your reservations, you decide it’s time to add an additional integration. “Konig, the gun you’re using is fully compatible with the weapon chip. As in, trigger capabilities. If you’d like, you can turn on auto fire.”

There’s a slight pause, and you’re worried he’s realized the full implications of such a technology. You’re relieved when he finally speaks over the intercom, “I think I turned it on.”

You verify on his feed before responding, “You got it. Let me know if you need anything.”

Holding your breath, you observe your AI work. He rounds another corner and approaches two more targets. Your code was capable of identifying each target’s imminent threat level, eliminating them in order of danger to the user. You hear Konig’s breath hitch when the gun operates with a mind of its own, mowing down the simulated targets without hesitation. Each shot effectively tearing through the most vulnerable areas of the targets.

“Meine güte…” He mutters, taking a moment to register what had just happened. You watch his feed pan down to his gun, his hands turning it over to examine it in disbelief.

You wonder what he’s thinking as you watch those strong hands work. If he thinks you’re a monster for creating such a brutal and mindless killing machine.

“Konig?” Your voice is dripping with uncertainty, but it’s your job to collect his feedback, “All good?”

You watch his thumb stroke the forend before his gaze shifts up, “I think I might be out of a job.”

You let out a laugh, words pouring out of your mouth before you can stop them, “Well, I don’t think we’d be able to replace you.”

Ah, shit.

You’re hoping you didn’t lay all your cards on the table, but you don’t dare let the silence hang, forging on, “Human supervision is still needed when it comes to technology like this. You know, wouldn’t want it to turn evil and try to take over the population.”

You’re hoping you saved it, but the few seconds before he responds seem like a lifetime.

“Well if it was made by you, I don’t think it would be capable of turning evil.”

Your brain short circuits and your mouth parts as you ready to respond, but find that you’re unable.

What did he mean by that? If he was implying that you weren’t evil enough to negatively influence a code, then he didn’t know you. Of course he didn’t, he just met you.

Was he implying you were too smart of a programmer to let a technology go faulty? Then he REALLY didn’t know you. You think briefly to your failed prototypes. How long it took to work out the bug of the AI mistakenly registering civilian children as threats.

Ugh.

Whatever the implications, you understand that Konig just complemented you. Something you were not still not equipped to handle, demonstrated by your slack jaw and wide eyes you’re thankful he can’t see. All accompanied by a warm feeling that spreads across your chest.

He’s just being nice.

Sexual attraction, that you could handle.

Not a crush.

This is a no-crushing zone, you decide.

The warm feeling needs to stay below the belt, thank you very much.

It’s obvious you’re joking, but your voice has a different tone when you finally gather yourself. Softer, bordering on dispirited, “Well, I don’t know about that. Y’know, I once programmed a toaster to cook my toast the perfect amount every time. I wanted it to spring out at exactly the right speed & distance to land square on my plate. Like you see in cartoons, y’know? It worked for a little… but one day it starting burning all my toast to char and shooting it max speed at my ceiling. I think it got mad it’s life purpose was making my breakfast.”

You hear Konig laugh for the first time. A raspy, hearty laugh that floods your comm and fuels that warm feeling in your chest, much to your dismay. You nose scrunches as you watch the shake of his feed slow. “There are worse purposes.”

You didn’t even give yourself the space to dissect the implications on that one. The smile is apparent in your voice, “I’ll let the toaster know.”

Konig finished out the trial after getting used to a few more overlays. You confirmed you had everything you needed for the day before letting Konig know you could wrap up.

He met you at the entrance of the shoot house, handing over the gun to you. It took you a moment to get readjusted to his size. He was tall enough to block the entire sun, casting you in his shadow.

You hold the barrel of the gun with one hand, resting the butt on the dirt. With your other hand you remove your earpiece, “Thank you for your help today. Really.” You say, forced to tilt your head back to look up at him. “If you’re interested, I’d love to continue trials with you.”

“It was my pleasure. I’d be happy to help.”

He tried to take off his wrist remote before you stopped him, “You can hang on to that. I have all your data on mine. It would be good for my research if you got used to the overlays outside of here. I don’t want to assume your time, but I think it may be helpful in assisting you with your duties.”

Konig shifts in his spot, “I don’t want anything to happen to it.”

You smile at him, pleased he’s being so respectful of your work. “Don’t worry. If you manage to damage it, then it’s not good enough for launch. Even breaking it will be valuable research.”

He considers this before hesitantly dropping his arm.

You continue, “Just promise you’ll share your thoughts with me. I don’t know what the life of a soldier is like, I don’t always know what’s best for you guys. Your feedback will be important in tailoring the design to fit your needs. It’s just a prototype, so you can be honest.”

His eyes stare down at you from under his hood and you can’t help but avoid his intimidating gaze by looking at the black paint around his eyes.

“I promise,” He says definitively and it’s obvious he means it.

You have his word.

——————————————————————

Back in the lab, you take a deep breath as you set your prototypes down. You had parted ways with Konig at the shoot house and haven’t been able to stop thinking about him.

You take the ear piece and remove the chip from the prototype gun in order to transfer the data to your laptop. You had a long night ahead of you reviewing footage and analyzing the AI results, but you knew your focus was going to be elsewhere.

You hoped your distracted thoughts would subside after eating an early dinner and watching an episode of your most recent show binge, but it doesn’t help.

You can’t stop thinking about the soldier with a laugh so wonderful you’d do about anything to hear it again.

You did your best to stay on task and turned your attention to your laptop, opening the software you designed to store its data.

It finally loads and what displays makes you gasp, your hand instinctively shooting up to cover your mouth.

Konig’s feed is still live.

Your eyes dart over to your ear piece, confirming it’s turned off. He couldn’t hear you on the comm. His overlay projection is turned off, but he must not have powered the unit completely down, and you neglected to end the feed.

You still don’t dare make a sound. You sit frozen, staring down at the screen with wide eyes.

He’s not wearing the headset, no. You can tell the camera is sitting on something at hip-height, maybe a table or a bed. Definitely not Konig-height. You can’t see much, your view is facing the wall of what you can tell is a modest-sized room.

It’s five-thirty now, you guess he’s clocked out and went back to his quarters for the evening.

This is so wrong.

You were violating his privacy. You should just disconnect the feed now, and forget about it.

You should.

But you don’t.

Instead you slowly lower your hands, lips pursed. It’s not long before Konig comes in to view.

The only thing he has on is a towel wrapped around his waist. His head was cropped out of view, but you can see his chest and his pecs are as chiseled as you had imaged them. Abs you hadn’t previously considered begging for your attention. The towel is dangerously low and goddamnit he’s got V lines, of course he does, and you can feel the warmth pool in your lower abdomen again.

This is so so wrong.

You should end it. End the feed, end the software, end the project. You’ve already crossed so many lines and if anyone found out about this you’d be discharged so fast it would make your head spin.

You’re seriously considering if it’s worth being outed as a pervert and forfeiting your grant just to ogle at the ultimate beefcake while Konig gets comfortable on his cot, face still out of frame. You’ve got a view of his side now, showcasing the middle of his chest down. You can see the definition on his abdominal muscles and you silently thank yourself for opting for choosing the higher resolution camera for your project.

He moves his arms out of frame once he gets the towel adjusted, you’re assuming to prop them behind his head.

He lays still for a few minutes, and you wish you could see his face. You were almost done talking yourself into closing the feed when his arm comes back in to view. Strong hands and forearms followed by massive biceps.

Your breath hitches again when you realize he’s reaching down for the towel. He unwraps it delicately, letting each end hang off the side of the bed.

He’s fully naked now, and it’s official-

You’re a pervert.

His cock sits at half attention and he wraps his hands around it, stroking it absentmindedly.

Oh, fuck.

Your mouth hangs slack and you can’t help but let out a squeak. You double check to make sure you’re still in your software and didn’t somehow accidentally open PornHub. But no, you were definitely watching Konig rut into his hand, teasing himself to arousal.

It doesn’t take long for his cock to reach full attention, leaking precum from the swollen tip. Even scaled next to his oversized hands you can tell it’s huge.

He reaches down to cup his balls briefly before returning to his shaft, wrapping his hand around it and stroking gently.

You can’t stop watching now- you’re locked in, eyes glued to the screen and you don’t think you’ve so much as blinked this entire time.

You watch as he picks up the pace, biceps flexing as he fucks his hand faster.

A low moan comes through the speakers of your laptop. You scramble for the volume controls, reducing it until you were sure no one passing by in the hall could hear.

It’s addicting, his moans. Deep and gravely and you can’t help but close your eyes and imagine what it would be like for him to be moaning in your ear instead of over a screen. For him to be fucking you instead of his hand. Moaning like he’s approaching a release he hasn’t felt in decades.

When you open your eyes again he’s stroking faster, his whole body tensing, a glossy shine forming on his defined muscles. You can’t help but stare at his bicep as it flexes to jerk his cock.

Even without seeing his face, you can tell he’s getting close.

His cock is a blur as he pumps vigorously. His breath quickens before suddenly hitching, muscles fully clenched as he comes, the first few drops landing on his stomach and thighs.

His whole body constricts as the waves of the pleasure wash over him. You can tell it’s intense.

His pumping slows and his seed spills over his knuckles and down his shaft as he squeezes out the last of it, quivering at the sensitivity.

His muscles relax and he sinks back into his cot, wiping his hand on the towel. He lays still for a few moments, the sound of him catching his breath and his rising and falling chest takes stage. Until he removes the towel from underneath him, wiping away his mess.

You’re staring, eyes wider than when you started. Your knuckles lighten as you grip the stool beneath you. It wasn’t the finish that shocked you, no.

Not the size of the load that spilled from his huge cock.

Not the way he had bucked his hips, desperate for the touch.

Not the way his muscles had rippled through the phases of orgasm.

You were shocked because as he finished;

Konig had moaned your name.

Part two

[ba9go]

Hiiii your work is saur goood ! Can I request a BK x fem reader angsty based on this song :0 ? no nsfw just pure angsty please :’) thank chuu 🙏🏻✨

running into your ex, bakugou katsuki (angst)

thank you so much for the request! :) idk if this is even angsty enough tbh my brain juices just weren’t flowing so i just projected my deadbeat ex onto katsuki

(sfw) breakup + post-breakup, katsuki has commitment issues in this one 🙂‍↔️ bakugou katsuki x gn!reader, pro-heroes

the hero gala is in full swing, the grand hall buzzing with laughter, clinking glasses, and the soft murmur of conversations. you navigate through the crowd, your smile polite, your demeanor composed. tonight is about celebrating the heroes who protect society, and you intend to keep up appearances, no matter the turmoil inside you.

then you see him standing near the entrance. katsuki. he looks every bit the hero he’s become — strong, confident, the fire in his eyes as fierce as ever.

your heart clenches, but you force yourself to breathe, to stay calm. it’s been months since the two of you broke up, months since you’ve seen him. you remember that day all too well. the day your whole world came crashing down on you.

“y/n,” katsuki doesn’t meet your eyes when he speaks. his hands are in yours, but you feel anything but close to him right now. when he finally speaks again, his voice is rough, laced with bitterness. "we need to talk."

you tear your gaze away. no, you can’t do this right now. instead, you try to focus on everything else — the drink in your hand, the music. anything to distract yourself from the number 2 pro hero.

“what’s wrong?”you try to sound calm, but your shaky voice betrays you. katsuki’s eyes snap up from the ground to look at you, and this time you’re the one avoiding eye contact as you feel yourself start to tear up.

"we can’t keep doing this. it’s not working."

the words hit you like a punch to the gut. you knew this was coming, had felt the distance growing between you two for months now, but you’ve been trying so hard to stay hopeful. "what do you mean?"

“don’t play dumb with me. you know exactly what i mean. this... us.” he squeezes your hand once before letting go. “it’s not working."

you swallow hard, your throat tight. you finally bring your gaze up to look at katsuki, who frowns at your tear-streaked face. his expression is marred by something. maybe regret? the familiar spark in his eyes is dim, and you wonder when you last saw him truly smile.

“are you giving up?”

he flinches at the accusation. "it’s not giving up. it’s... being realistic.” you don’t respond, and he continues. “i can’t afford any distractions if i’m going to be the best.”

“is that all i am to you? a distraction?” you hate how pathetic you sound.

“it’s not that simple,” katsuki snaps, frustration flashing in his eyes. “you mean a lot to me. but this is my dream. it’s what i’ve been working for my whole life.”

“i’ve never wanted to hold you back.”

“i know,” katsuki’s gaze softens. “this isn’t your fault. this is just something that i have to do...” katsuki falters. he takes a deep breath before continuing, “without you.”

“okay," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "if that’s what you want."

katsuki’s eyes snap back to you. "it’s not what i want," he says. “it’s what i need.” he takes a step back, away from you and you grab his wrist.

“are you sure?”you ask quietly, lips trembling.

he hesitates for a moment, and you almost hope he’ll stay, that he’ll fight for you, for what you had. but then he nods and turns, walking away with heavy steps.

you’re standing by the refreshment table, sipping a glass of champagne, when you hear his voice from behind you.

"hey."

you turn, your heart pounding in your chest. lo and behold, katsuki is standing there. he’s a bit closer than you expected, you can catch the familiar scent of his cologne.

“bakugou,” you greet with a strained smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. you would be lying if you said that you didn’t relish in the way his eyes narrowed at the use of his family name.

“you call my ma and pa by their names,” he frowns. “s’weird if you don’t call me by mine too.”

“i haven’t spoken to you or your family in months,” you raise an eyebrow at him, and he nods slowly.

“right.” he clears his throat awkwardly. “so, how are y—”

“let’s not do this,” you cut him off, frowning. “i appreciate you coming over to say hi. we can stop there.”

he frowns at you. “m’not allowed to talk to you?”

“if you cared about my life, you should’ve stayed in it.”

you wait for bakugou to respond, but he stays quiet, so you turn away and leave.

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