#even when the odds are VERY MUCH not in his favor

[residentialsinyomakai]

Hello hello!!! Guess what. Yokai art dump below the cut!! So cool and shiny wow

Its true, I do >u<

I'll try and section these and give the usual explanations below! Image ID for more drawing specific inksplanation.

Click for full image! Since a lotta these are weirdly shaped they were cut off....augh...

McKraken and Maddiman related doodlesssss they're some of my faves <3 i will always love them even if they're not my focus characters atm (well. McKraken kinda is rn but also Babblong so YAY)

Misc. Yokai and ocs! The frog is Kerosque, the guy w the swirly pompadour thing is Swiss, and the monkey is Romono (although he's a Regretevator OC from FOREVER ago, he's still my son <33)

SWISS STUFF RAUGHHHH ! inconsistent style will be APPARENT here try not to notice shuhhhhhgh

Height for main yokai in my AU/on Casp's team! (In the anime it's just primary summons then wwwww)

Some yokai practice/design hcs bc my friend asked!! I was so happy to share 🤭 LOVE YOU CHERCHERRRR

Some of my little guys once more! Rawry' prob one of my faves yokai to draw, easy and fun to do show-accurate or stylized.

OCSSSSSS. AND BADDINYAN. MY EVIL CAT <3333 the guy next to the frog in the middle is an oc idea but idk for what yet =▽=

AUGH. THERES AN IMAGE LIMIT? Well in case you're wondering it's 30....post the rest after I get tomorrow's doodles. See you then and thank you for looking at and reading about my arts!

[wonder-worker]

Is it true that Elizabeth of York birth celebrated like she was a son? I have seen some historians say this.

Hi! Yes, Edward IV did celebrate his daughter’s birth as though she was a male heir (“a prince”), iirc as per the Great Chronicle.

While we have no contemporary reports at the time of Elizabeth of York's birth, we know that Luchino Dallaghiexia reported that the birth of Edward and Elizabeth's third child, Cecily of York, "rejoiced the king and all the nobles exceedingly*, though they would have preferred a son'. Wanting a son (ie: an heir) was typical for their time period, likely enhanced by Edward and Elizabeth's unprecedentedly controversial marriage, her very unsuitable origins and his own status as a usurper. The fact that he was described as being "exceedingly" delighted at the birth of his third daughter in a row regardless does support the claim that he would have gone over-the-top to celebrate the birth of his first legitimate** child.

Hope this helps!

*Bizarrely, I have seen several historians and blogs using Dallaghiexia's letter to claim that he was bitterly disappointed at Cecily of York's birth. I don't understand how historical reading comprehension can be so poor that "rejoiced the king exceedingly" has somehow been rewritten as the...exact opposite of that. With no self-awareness whatsoever. **His illegitimate daughter Margaret (known as Elizabeth for some reason) was almost definitely born before his marriage. We don't know the birth dates of his other two illegitimate children: I think the likeliest conception date for Arthur was in early 1470, but it's unverified; and we know nothing about Grace (which was in fact her surname, not her name) other than the fact that Elizabeth Woodville seems to have been very attached to her.

[beatrice-otter]

Is there any plan for after Harris loses (which seems inevitable at this point)? People are pointedly not talking about after, so I assume that Trump winning really does mean everything is Over in a very final way.

...

Both of those assertions are wrong.

Polls are notoriously unreliable (and getting less reliable), and things are close. I honestly have no idea who's going to win. But right now, fivethirtyeight.com (which is the best overall politics predictor in the US, and has been for the last several election cycles) has Harris ahead by 1.3 points. So, no, Trump winning is not inevitable.

But especially with things this close and the election this close, this is the least likely time for people to be publicly talking about contingency plans for a Trump win. The more people think Trump is going to win, the less likely Harris voters are to show up at the polls ... which means that Trump is more likely to win. Talking about how awful a Trump presidency would be if he got elected can motivate people to vote, when paired with "but voting for Harris can help prevent that!" Talking about what to do after he wins (if he does) is much more concrete and much more likely to convince people that there's no point in voting, we need to move on to the next step of preparing for the inevitable. But it isn't inevitable! Not even close!

Organizations at all levels--political groups, advocacy groups, charities, legal aid groups, etc.--have been preparing all along. But the more you talk about those contingencies in public, the more likely you are to actually need them.

And the thing is, we know a Trump win would be bad. How bad, and in what way exactly ... depends on a lot of factors. His first term was bad, but he was prevented from achieving his goals because he is incapable of keeping competent people around, and nobody knew how to make the bureaucracy of government do what they wanted it to do. He may have fixed that problem, he may not. We know what his goals are and those of his closest allies. What we don't know is, would he be better able to carry those goals out this time if he wins, and if so, how many of them he will be able to enact. And what we, as leftists, can do in the event of a Trump presidencey depends on all of those things!

So it's much better to point out that the odds are in Harris' favor right now (even if not by much) and we need to go out and make sure they stay in Harris' favor.

[sistertotheknowitall]

Masterpost

“But to the BatFam? That is just Some Guy. A random dude - if you will.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m missing my spleen.”

“Oh cool, yeah, missing organs suck. I’m missing a kidney and part of my liver. Oh! And my gallbladder but that was more of a necessary evil, it was like, poisoning me or something.” Danny was so focused on applying pressure to his wound (and maybe being a bit too light headed) that he didn’t notice how silent his friend had gotten. Like-wise the comms had gone equally quiet as Gotham’s vigilante family realized that they knew very little about this kid.

It was concerning how quickly they all started to see him as a friend considering it was them as vigilantes he interacted with the most. Tim was the only one who saw him frequently when out of the suit because he was a regular at Danny’s day job. (He worked as a barista in the coffee shop Tim favored.) The others saw him occasionally but more often than not it was just in passing. Steph, Duke, and Dick had to stop themselves from approaching him on the street.

It was odd, one day he had just moved to Gotham, seeming to appear out of nowhere, and then the next he was a constant presence in their lives. Usually armed and ready with a concerning or odd quip, it had started with him being another victim of the city’s petty criminals and had snowballed from there.

Now it wasn’t like the bats saw Danny everyday, but it was expected that he would cross paths with at least three of them before the end of the week. They ran into him more often than any other Gothamite, including the criminals and rouges they fought.

At first the constant meetings by “coincidence” was suspicious. If he wasn’t the one being saved from a mugging, kidnapping, or city wide villain assault, then he was near by and trying to help.

(“Trying to help” usually meant drawing attention to himself so the original victim could escape. Once it had meant Danny armed with a baseball bat against four grown men. Bruce and Dick have tried to talk to him about putting himself in harms way but the kid is surprisingly elusive when he wants to be. Yet, even when avoiding Batman and his eldest, Danny could be found on the patrol route of another family member.)

But honestly? The guy seemed just as exhausted as they were of seeing each other. By the twelfth time in a month, Danny had accused them of stalking him.

The background check Bruce and Tim had run came back clean and he never seemed to be involved in the various criminal activities. He was just there, a weirdly unlucky bystander. So as far as Dick and the others could see, Danny was a completely normal dude. He just said strange things and wasn’t intimidated by them, he actually made it a point to be unhelpful sometimes. When trying to learn his name he gave them the run around for two months. (“I know about stranger danger. I don’t care how often you say you’re the ‘good guys.’ I’m not falling for it.”)

On one memorable occasion Danny had disappeared for a week and a half. When they started to assume the worse, he popped back up behind the counter at work. Tim had relaxed significantly when he entered the shop to Danny organizing pastries in the display case. Once he’d placed his order, the young CEO asked Danny if he’d been on vacation. To which Danny had just sighed and told Tim “I wish, but no I was called to court to handle some affairs I couldn’t get out of.” (After a check to see if Danny had gotten charged with something and coming back empty, Tim had concluded that it was an odd way to say he had had jury duty.)

Thinking about it now, outside a stray comment or two, Danny didn’t talk about himself or his life. They knew he didn’t have a good relationship with his parents, “they were much more goal oriented than that joke of a kidnapper, but I think drugs do that to a person.” (It was still unclear if he meant his parents were kidnappers themselves or on drugs.) They knew he had an older sister who would “kill me again if she finds out I was in another bank robbery.” They also knew he was, possibly, depressed after last week’s comment of “is it considered murder if you’re already dead but, like, still alive?” (Damian had saved him from a drug ring but after another “baby ninja” comment the young Robin had threatened to give Danny back to his would-be murderers.)

Dick knew Danny was a weird guy who never wanted to elaborate on the things he said. (Jason was still confused on what he meant by “rotted milk soul.”) That didn’t mean the comments themselves didn’t say a lot about him. And tonight’s comment, accompanied by the prominent and jagged autopsy scars, said more than Danny was probably willing to share.

Part one

[hazelfoureyes]

The Big Part

Alastor x Virgin FemReader smut

(part 2)

You were dead, it was time to divest yourself of your virginity. When you ask Alastor, he takes to the task immediately. Unfortunately, he seems to enjoy surprising you.

warnings/promises: Alastor x Reader smut, Alastor dislikes getting naked, virginity does not rock, possessive Alastor, head pats, reader is an adult she’s just a nervous idiot bad at words

Horny little deer cult: @frompeach , @chirimeimei , @poppingaround , @polytheatrix , @itsmskeisha , @stygianoir , @celestial-vomit , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @amurtan

minors dni, this isn’t educational in the slightest and is just straight smut

It made sense, at the time. You didn’t want a relationship and you didn’t want to meet a stranger you couldn’t trust, that left very few people to ask. Husk would say no, and probably stop serving you drinks. Angel would most likely agree, but you were a little intimidated by his experience. That left Alastor. While you hadn’t spent much time together, your interactions were always cordial. And plus, this was hell. Isn’t this kind of situation a sinners dream come true?

For most, maybe. But you didn’t know Alastor. Not yet, not really. Everything he did had some ulterior motive. Perhaps nothing he had ever done was simply selfless. If Alastor wasn’t gaining something, Alastor wasn’t interested.

You caught him in the hallway one evening after redemption-oriented activities, deciding to get the moment over with as quickly as possible.

“It’s a favor, little… odd. But you’re the only person I have to ask.” Your eyes darted around his face, down the hall, up the walls, anywhere really but his eyes.

“I’m all ears!” Alastor tapped the microphone to the ground with a satisfying ‘thud’.

Oh— you had rehearsed this but you hadn’t prepared to be staring at that large, toothy grin. It wasn’t unsettling, it was just distracting. Would he be smiling the entire time he… ya know.

“I am,” you steepled your hands, pointing them at him, “a virgin.” You paused, hoping maybe he’d just infer the rest and you could stop talking.

His face was motionless save his eyelids rising up.

“And I don’t want to be. Anymore.” Your lips pursed together. C’mon, Alastor. Figure it out.

Alastor nodded.

You dragged your fingers down your face, “Would you help me with that?”

His head cocked to the side like a golden retriever being handed a book on ancient Egypt. Very nice offer but what exactly do I do with it?

“Help how, precisely?” He finally spoke, tone unchanged from any normal topic of discussion. Alastor watched your face scrunch up, mouth moving around words you abandoned half way through. You weren’t saying anything, just making panicked sounds. “I find annunciation most helpful when wanting to be understood, dear.”

You wanted to somersault out the nearest window. “Alastor will you take my virginity?”

“Take it where?”

You groaned, he laughed, “Just kidding, my dear! All in good fun. So, to be clear, you would like your first sexual experience to be with me?” He pointed the microphone from you to him.

You nodded, “Yes, please.”

His smile seemed to strain. Staring down at you, he tried to understand what your motivation was for this. But as he looked into your big, concerningly innocent eyes, he realized there was none. You really, simply, want him to be the first.

Ooh, as he thought it, he felt his pulse quicken in his lap. The first. A spot no one else could take. For the rest of your afterlife, he would always be the one who was first in you. A delicious thought. He could work with that.

“Are you free now?” He leaned down to your level.

“Oh. I wasn’t-,”

“Expecting immediacy? Perfect, the element of surprise has never failed me before.” His hand wrapped around your waist and drew you in to his chest, there was a rush of cold air over your skin before you felt yourself falling back.

It was soft, the room was dark, save for a small floor lamp in the corner. Your room, you realized.

“I didn’t know you knew my room number.”

“It’s my job to know everything about the hotel.” He said, tossing your shoes behind him. Was this happening now? Right now?

“I can do it, it’s, it’s fine.” You sat up and began undoing your pants. Alastor just standing there, watching. Smiling. Fuck, was it going to be this awkward the entire time? Should you say something? Touch him? You were lifting the hem of your shirt when you realized he was still fully dressed. “Are you going to take off your clothes?”

“Why would I do that?” Head lolled to the side.

You stopped mid-way through unhooking your bra, “Alastor you do know I was asking you to fuck me, right?”

He nodded. Maybe this was a mistake.

After taking off your bra, and finally your panties, you crawled to the top of your bed and drew your knees to your chest. Your feet hid your sex from view. Heart racing, but it wasn’t excitement, as you had anticipated. It was nerves. Would it hurt? Would you make a stupid face? What if he didn’t like the sounds you made? What if you regretted it after?

Alastor got on the bed on his knees, undoing his belt buckle but not his pants. The way he looked at you, your heart skipped a beat. You suddenly remembered he was called the ‘cannibal deer’ as you saw something akin to hunger in his eyes.

“What experience do you have?” His voice was suddenly low, deeper than before. This wasn’t the pun loving radio man you saw prodding the staff.

“I dated. Before. Kissing, um, I don’t know the bases. Groping?” You grimaced, it sounded so formal.

“Have you ever,” he began to slink toward you on his hands and knees, red eyes glowing in the dim light of your room, “been entered?”

Your cheeks burned, your head suddenly swayed as if it was half full of water and someone tipped you over. “Just myself, my,” you lifted your hand.

“Show me.”

All the air left the room, sucked out of your lungs and into his grin.

Uncrossing your feet, you tried to open your thighs without seperating your knees. It didn’t work, but you still managed to get a hand between your legs and to your entrance. You could have cried, you were soaking wet to an embarrassing degree. Your eyes return to Alastor, his gaze never leaving you. Even as you slipped a finger, then two, into yourself. You thought for sure he would want to watch your hands playing with your wet pussy but no, his eyes stayed on your face. Somehow, that was worse.

A shaky sigh escaped, your eyes closing as you tried to focus on relaxing around your digits.

Your head smacked against the headboard when you felt a third finger enter. Not yours. Your eyes flew back open to see him now directly in front of you.

“Two won’t do, dear.” He spun his finger around, pulling slightly at the thin skin of your entrance. “Unless you’d prefer this to hurt?”

You shook your head no, still stinging from the impact you had made. “May I?” His hand took your wrist and removing your fingers. Swiping your wetness from your ass to your clit, he coated his claw-like digits and pushed three back in. They were longer than yours, sharper. You could feel he moved gently, in and out. Your head was heavy, breath short and fast.

He laughed, bringing your consciousness fully back into the room, “Already wanting to change your mind?”

You shook your head side to side, still too embarrassed to speak, and took a grounding breath to help your body accept his fingers. He took his time, sliding in and out of you. His fingers picking up the slick and letting it lubricate your lips. It was so slow, the only pleasure for you was knowing it wasn’t your hand doing it.

But then his stretching of your hole stopped, and he grabbed both of your knees from underneath and pulled you down toward him. Now on your back, legs up and in his hands, you heard his belt slide through the loopholes, his zipper drop. You wanted to look, but you also absolutely did not want to look.

Your knees came together when you felt something hot and round at your entrance. “Ah-ah,” He opened them immediately. He reached for one of your hands, and brought it down to his cock. It was so hard under your fingers, but gave a little when you squeezed. It made him hiss.

“You tell me when to stop, little doe.” He pressed into your opening, pulled back. Pressed in, just barely making it past your lips, pulled back. He kept this pressing and pulling, head making slightly more leeway every time. Your fingers were holding right behind the tip.

“How about this, dear. I’ll just get the head in for now. Manageable!”

“Just— just get the big part in first?” You asked, the pressure at your entrance building with every shallow thrust.

He laughed, nodding as he held both of your knees further apart. When he attempted to get past the curve of his cock’s head, your hands flew down to press against his thigh, pushing back with the intrusion. Alastor stilled, sighed, and pressed his head fully in with a determined thrust. Instinctively, your feet came to his chest and tried to push away from him. It felt like you were being torn down the middle, your body forced apart at your most sensitive junction. He held you still now by the ankles, legs splayed in the air.

It burned where your walls were pushed aside. Stinging where the skin tore slightly just beneath your hole, unable to stretch.

“Breath, sweetheart.” He set your ankles down. “Does it hurt?”

You nodded.

“I’ll stay here for a bit,” he settled on his legs, looking down at where he was connected to you. Your pink little pussy looking positively overwhelmed by his cock. No one has ever been here before, and he could feel it. Your walls were pressing so hard against him his shaft was slightly curved from the force pushing his head out. You still had so much to take, there was so much more of you for him to explore. You tried to calm your breathing but your heart was racking against your sternum.

Hand reaching down again, you let your fingers count little paces from his core to yours. You knew the hardest part was over, but that didn’t bring much comfort as you felt how far you still had to go.

Alastor let his eyes wander away from your not-so-virgin cunt to your face. Your expression was twisted, not pained but clearly uncomfortable.

“How does it feel?” He asked, gesturing to your lap with a nod of his head.

“Full, so full.”

His cackle disheartened you, “Darling I am no where done filling you up.”

You clenched when he said it, earning a small groan from him. You were already too tight, when you spasmed on him it was nearly painful. There was more to do yet, more of you to claim as his. Just the tip of his cock was simply not enough.

His hips started moving again, the folds of his head pulling at the skin of your entrance but not actually crossing the barrier. He was gently rocking, barely making friction between you two. Your hand clawed at his knee, breath hitching. You let an airy moan slip, his head no longer an intrusion but something hot and melty barely rubbing your walls. It started to feel almost good.

Alastor’s cock was throbbing, his shaft touch-starved and desperate for the heat of your cunt. Your face was relaxing now, eyes blinking around new sensations. He wanted to see you experience more, more firsts and frighteningly foreign pleasures. He wanted to see you scared of how good he could make you feel. Alastor wanted you to never feel whole again without him buried balls deep in you.

“Can you take more?” His voice was like gravel, a radio static crackling in.

You met his eyes, glowing still in the dim light, wide and nearly frenzied in their dilation. His smile was practically beaming down at you.

“I don’t know.” You were scared to move forward, even though you wanted more.

“I don’t like liars.” A pop of electricity arcing at the end of his words. You pulled a pillow over your face, trying to hide from the reaction you knew he’d have as his voice made you tighten around him. “Your body says otherwise,” he hissed.

You wanted to say ‘yes’, if this could feel good then how great would all of him feel? But you were scared to vocalize it. Scared to make it start. Alastor lifted the pillow, “I need to see you, dear.” He set it beside his leg, “Do you remember what I said earlier?”

Brow furrowed, you shook your head. His grin widened to his ears as his hands slid down your thighs to your hips and he sank his cock to the hilt.

The element of surprise definitely made the nerves of saying ‘yes’ dissipate, but you were now choking on your breath, hands gripping at the blankets beneath you. Was this normal? Was he too far inside you? You felt nauseous, your guts prodded by Alastor’s member.

“How does it feel now?” He watched your eyes scanning the ceiling for an answer. You felt sure there was no way his head could leave you ever again. It was so snuggly fit in you, you feared you’d be pulled inside out. “Words, dear.”

You sat up on your elbows, sweating from the nerves of it all. “Like there’s a big stick stuck in me.”

“Accurate!” He laughed, and began pulling out. You whined, head dropping back. Almost taking himself out completely, he paused before thrusting back in. The head of his cock dragged against your walls, you could feel him with such detail. Every inch of him leaving impressions behind. Alastor could feel it too, how your soft warmth moved out of his way with every push. How pliable your womb was to his intrusions.

More. You could take more, he was positive of it.

Slowly, your moans began to get louder as the pressure faded into pleasure. Every time he bottomed out, you jumped. Every time he pulled out, you wanted to chase after him with your hips.

Watching your face soften, eyes now watery, Alastor was sure you were relaxed enough. He grabbed the pillow beside him, lifting your ass and sliding it under the small of your back. You didn’t ask, just waited to see what the point was. Dissatisfied, he grabbed another and added it under you.

Your hips were up, ass hanging over the ledge the pillows made, back bent upward. When he began to thrust again, you whinced feeling a new part of you widen for him. “Can you see me?” You looked at him when he said it, but he grabbed your hand and placed it beneath your belly button. When he pushed back in, you could feel his cock beneath your hand. Moving it, you watched your stomach bulge slightly when he was completely sheathed in you.

“Oh fuck-,” your head fell back into the bed, it was too much to feel let alone to watch, “Too deep.”

He hummed an acknowledgement, picking up his pace. “Let me see how you cum.”

Your face was hot, reluctantly bringing your hand to your clit and rubbing.

No, this wasn’t a mistake at all. If anything you regretted not asking sooner.

His thrusts now brought lightning to your core, your finger quickening in speed with the realization of just how good he could feel.

Studying your face still, he adjusted his angle until he saw the muscles in your neck tighten. He knew he found your g-spot, your moans dipping into cries.

“I can’t—,” You couldn’t get over the hump, knowing he was watching you, waiting for you.

“You can”, the lights flickered, his eyes now black with small red pupils illuminating your naked body, “and you will, my dear.” One of his hands stopped pressing finger sized bruises into your hips to instead push your own finger aside. The wide pad of his thumb took over and began thrumming you fast and hard.

That familiar build up of pleasure was stronger than you’d ever felt it, and when it finally snapped your muscles from your thighs to your toes cramped. How long had you been tensing?

You practically sobbed into the crook of your arm, Alastor’s hips slowing but still carrying you through your orgasm. They moved slower and slower, until stopping entirely. His head popped out of you, leaving you feeling hollow. Cold.

Eyes wet and blurry, you looked up at him, “Aren’t you going to finish?”

“If we do everything now, what ‘first’ will we have for tomorrow night? And the night after that?” He smiled, member already hidden away and pants buttoned. Your thighs twitched. “Same time tomorrow, little doe?”

You covered your face with both hands, and nodded.

His big hand came to your head and patted you gently, “Good girl.”

I hope you liked it 🥺 I don’t feel as confident about this one. Fun fact, my first time involved bondage. Very on brand, huh? 💖

༻Masterlist༺

Gonna start calling his dick ‘the element of surprise’. You look tired today! What happened? Oh the element of surprise kept me up all night.

[werecreature-addicted]

Ok, imagine this, werewolf is in love with his neighbor, a human girl, everything would be fine if it weren't for the fact that the girl is a single mother of a little boy, and I'm not saying this because it's a bad thing for a woman to be a single mother, I'm saying this because of their neighbors, the other human neighbors have the mistaken idea that werewolves are cruel to other men's children, even propagating the absurd idea that werewolves kill the children of other males when they are interested in the mother. Of course our werewolf would never do that, werewolves would never harm a woman's offspring, so he has to be very careful and almost transparent to be able to woo the girl without her thinking that he is a danger to her or his little son

he meets your child first. he's just trying to carry in groceries, all of them in one trip of course, when he hears a small "can I help?" he looks down and sees a human pup with big wide eyes and a missing front tooth. He'd known that knew people had moved in next door a little while ago but he didn't know they came with a kid.

"Sure," he says and hands the kid one bag to carry as they trek up the driveway. it's a short walk and he can easily do it himself, but the werewolf thinks the boy is cute, so young yet already helpful and determined to prove his strength. what a good pack leader he would be one day. the kid drops the bag by his door and then runs back to his yard to play. The werewolf had never paid much attention to his next-door neighbors but he would start now.

He meets you a few days later and wow. he's never met a human so pretty. you seem nervous, a little frazzled from the recent move, but sweet. he tells you about your son helping him with the groceries and offers to help you any time you need anything, just looking for an excuse to see you again.

And you do need his help a lot around the house. it's hard trying to do everything yourself especially when you're raising a little boy. Luckily your neighbor is always there whether it's to replace some shingles on your roof or just play with your son for a little so you can get five minutes to yourself. you won't lie, you do pick specific favors to ask of him. sure you could do your own yard work, but there's just something so sexy about a sweaty hard-working werewolf.

He's so sweet he almost instantly becomes a part of your life. You can tell he's interested in you, you're not an idiot, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't like him too. It's flattering to have someone clearly so into you even knowing you have a child.

You spend of late nights confiding in him and before you know it you start to think you're falling for him. then you happen to mention your blooming romance to one of your coworkers and they inform you, horrified, that if a werewolf is interested in a woman with a child they're known to kill the child so the mother can focus on raising the werewolf pups. The story chills you, you'd heard similar things about lions in the wild, and maybe it was true for all preditors.

you can't help but spiral a little bit, you've been leaving your baby alone with a hungry wolf. but... somehow you don't believe it. He had never shown himself to be violent or even anything but loving towards your son. and you knew he was closer to human than some wild animal. he wouldn't really do something like that, would he?

When you get home you're a little jumpy around your neighbor, which he notices. you don't let your son go over to his yard to play and you don't invite him over for dinner, which is odd, to say the least. but he doesn't push. You feel stupid, avoiding him like this, why should you be scared of someone who'd been nothing but kind?

you go out onto your porch that night and see him out looking up at the stars. when he hears you he waves you over.

"it's a pretty night," you comment sitting beside him, awkwardly.

"prettier with you here," he teases, you feel your face go hot and you have to look away, he laughs at your embarrassment. you're quiet for a long time before you finally bring up what was on your mind.

you don't come out and say "Hey are you going to murder my child to get closer to me?" but instead you ask him:

"you flirt with me a lot, but does it ever bother you that I have a child? does that make you hesitate to have a real relationship?" it's still blunt but it's not quite as accusatory.

"I've always wanted kids, I love your son, I'm not going to run because of it, I want you and you having a son doesn't change that," he assures you. A few months later you'll admit exactly what your coworker said, he was horrified you ever thought he'd be capable of hurting the boy he views as his son, and he tells you in no uncertain terms that he would die to protect the both of you. no harm is coming to either of you while he's here to protect his family.

[thesummerestsolstice]

I love it when Elrond is portrayed as someone who is a little bit incomprehensible to most of the elves at first. Not even just because he's a half-elf, but because he reminds them all of so many other people, and that layering can be kind of jarring.

He sings beautifully, with a voice that sounds like no elf or man, and it reminds many of the Sindar of Luthien. It reminds some of the Noldor of someone else, another singer with raven-dark hair and starry gray eyes.

The braids he does his hair in– and he always keeps it braided at first, because letting it run loose is another thing that makes people whisper of Luthien– are in the traditional Noldor style. The survivors of Gondolin love that; Turgon always wore his hair in classical styles too. The other part of the House of Finwe that clung to traditional braids goes unmentioned. But everyone knows.

And he was clearly taught about court manners; taught to be gracious and charming, and a very good listener. The elf who could have taught Elrond those things is usually skipped over entirely, in favor of those reminiscing about Idril's graceful poise or Melian's endless patience.

He looks very much like Luthien, but there is a particular Finwean sharpness in his facial structure; something that makes him look a lot like Fingolfin, as well. Fingolfin looked very much like his father. And his older brother.

His smile is just like Earendil's (whose smile is just like Tuor's), and his strange, birdlike laugh is from Elwing. He fights and writes with his left hand– but then, so did Earendil, because while all elves are right-handed, not all humans or half-elves are. He eats no meat– just like Beren, they say, but the way Elrond tells it the choice had nothing to do with that history. There is ainuric power in him and something very human in the set of his shoulders. The flowers grow around any place he stays long enough. He gets sick in a way no elf, and certainly no maia, ever would. His accent is odd, and archaic, and changes noticeably when he's too tired to obscure it. His mannerisms are a mixture of about twelve people, almost all of whom are dead, and several of whom are not spoken of by the time he shows up in Gil-Galad's camp.

And the reflections of Elrond unsettle a lot of people; because one moment they see a fallen hero or loved one, and the next they see the person that took them. Or perhaps someone else, that they never knew at all. There is reverence and fear and uncertainty. It's messy.

Elrond himself is coming to peace with this by the War of Wrath. There is love in carrying the parts of your ancestors with you, even when they aren't around any more. And he knows better than anyone that he is always himself, first and foremost. Still, it takes everyone else a while to stop seeing a ghost and start seeing Elrond.

[minkieater]

luck → jyh 🂡

“if you are unsure on who is going to win, always bet on yunho.”

p. jeong yunho x fem!reader g. borderline yandere!yunho, non idol au w. alcohol consumption, smut minors dni PLS, cheating, stalking, yunho's fucking crazy wc. 7.7k

♫ —vermillion, slipknot “my dahlia bathed in possession, she is home to me.” 

his right hand completely enveloped two dainty, fragile wrists connected to two perfectly manicured hands, pinned above a very beautiful fucked out face. the french tips stared back at him as he lost himself fully, buried deep inside someone he most certainly should not of been. as he reaches the hilt of his pleasure, he lets it rush through him, consume him for that stolen moment of freedom before it drags him down all the same. 

he retracts his hand as he pulls out, taking a breath, but no time to waste, he has someone waiting at home for him, after all.

 the sweat is wiped off his forehead and his pants are zipped up before she could come down herself. it never really bothered him much, the cheating thing, but then again, he never really thought twice about it. he’s always done what he’s wanted, he’s never had any reason not to. 

he knows if she found out it’d be the end of their picture perfect relationship, and as inconvenient that situation would be, it makes the doing all the much more exhilarating. 

his heart is never fuller than when he’s with her, that pretty little thing. standing at a petite five foot something, her head reaches just the tip of his shoulder. it makes him feel powerful with his over six foot build, towering over her, having to bend at the hips to steal a quick kiss on her always glossed lips. 

she was perfect to him, perfect for him, but yet he couldn’t let go of sinking himself into anyone that looked at him with a twinkle in their eye. she’s smart, funny, thoughtful, attentive, and overall just sweet. but he loved the attention, loved the adoration, he loved to feel loved. wanted, lusted, appreciated — sometimes one person’s captivation just isn’t enough. it was never enough for yunho. 

he had the same routine whenever he did it, his little addiction: find his toy for the night, leave the bar, have a quick fuck, hurry back to the bar, cover his tracks, get home. 

even the nights she was at the bar he’d sometimes make it work, the logistics of it are all his genius, but he’d do it and he’d do it well — she would never question a thing. no one got his number, no one got his full name if they didn’t already know it, and no one expected to see jeong yunho again after that one quick half an hour, if that, spent with him. somehow, all the odds were forever in his favor.

that was, of course, until he met you. 

everything he thought he knew about his relationship, everything he thought he felt about his sweet little girlfriend, this perfect system that he’d created for himself, all of that went straight in the shitter the second you batted your eyelashes at him the first time. 

she was at home, sleeping soundly, which he was sure of because she had a shift early the next morning, he was out with a few of his friends after a long night of studying. she never waited up for him, never questioned who he was out with, she had full and utter faith in him. which, essentially, was her downfall. 

four beers and two shots deep, his waist was bent over the bar for yet another beer, no longer seated on the stool at the table with his friends. across the bar, he saw you, and the room went silent for a moment. beautiful face, perfect build, everything he looked for in a woman. he knew exactly who his target was tonight, and you knew it, too. but you didn’t find that out until later. 

you were preoccupied, talking to one of his friends, actually. you had full intentions of trying to take that husky, tall, blonde haired man home with you that night, yunho could read it all over your face. that couldn’t happen, that won’t happen. 

mingi would understand, right? he needed mingi to understand. he wanted you. he needed you. 

he waited until he got his beer, he even took notice of the bottle in your grasp and bought you another, too. he made his way around the bar, a predator stalking his prey, strides fluid and smooth like a snake preparing to attack. 

“you do know that you’re not supposed to take drinks from strangers, right?” you look to him with an eyebrow raised, and he knew then and there he was fucked. glossy lips, hair done to perfection, dress perfectly clinging to your curves — he wished he could cut straight to the point, snap his fingers and he could skip the build up and sheer work it took to get you where he wanted you. 

“who said we were strangers?” the same eyebrow lifts on his own face, smirk taking a now permanent seat on his lips, clinking his beer with yours in cheers. fortunately for him, game was his forte, mingi had to know he was a goner already. 

“i guess we don’t have to be,” you finished off your previous beer at the same time he did, trading it for the new one he brought, “this is the yunho you mentioned, huh, mingi?” 

“yeah, yeah, this is yunho,” mingi nods and his cheeks flush, out of embarrassment or annoyance, yunho wasn’t sure. he wished he felt worse for completely dogging his friend’s play, but when it comes to this, came to you, yunho physically could not hold himself back. 

“and who are you? since you know everything about me already,” that cocky smirk won't leave his face, and you’re not hiding that it’s driving you insane. good, just how he wants you. curious, interested, maybe even craving. easy. 

you introduce yourself, shifting your weight from one heeled foot to the other, “dunno everything about you, but can’t say i wouldn’t like to find out more.” 

check mate. mingi takes this as his cue to turn on his heel, bidding both of you goodnight. yunho would have to call him tomorrow, give him a proper apology. 

an hour later he had you on your back at a nearby motel, barreling inside of you like it was the last thing he’d ever do. when he gets into these situations, he’s never one to play nice, never sticks around, a big hit it and quit it type of guy, but what can he say? he’s got a beautiful woman waiting for him at home. 

but that night … that night he had the most intriguing woman he’d ever encountered beneath him. he even made you cum first, not something he usually tries to do, never a goal for each person on his list despite not a single one leaving his presence unsatisfied. seeing you across the bar was the prologue to the novel you were about to write together, sweat and spit the pen and paper. 

he couldn’t leave you that night. he knew he should’ve went home to her, he knew he should’ve gotten your last name, he knew he should’ve at least used a condom. but he didn’t. 

the first time he saw you, he knew he should’ve stayed the fuck away, knew he should’ve kept his routine consistent, he knew you’d be the one to send his head into a spiral. jeong yunho knew a lot of things, he’s a smart guy, but greed sits at the top of the list of his flaws, and you brought out the worst in him. 

maybe he needed a little bit of humbling, a wake up call of sorts, but the last thing he expected was waking up to the bed empty, a ghost of your figure laying next to him, the sweet smell of your perfume and sweat lingering in the cheap cotton. 

the worst of it all, he hasn’t seen you since. 

which brings him to two weeks later, where he emptied himself in yet another woman who looks like she could be your distant cousin, maybe a good friend that ever so slightly resembles you. maybe he’s just been looking for you in every single cervix he’s touched since that night. 

on the ride home, his brain is elsewhere, as it’s been after every single hook up he’s had since you. when he gets home and his pretty little girlfriend is waiting for him, he can’t bring himself to question why she’s awake, not when she’s pecking kisses all over his face, telling him how much she’s missed him. completely oblivious, a small part of him thinks she’s fucking ignorant for it. 

he knows what’s to come. if he keeps going down this road it’s only a matter of time before his feelings toward her turn resentful, he gets meaner, she gets insecure, he gets aggravated. he can see it play out in his mind, yet he’s indifferent. with her, without her, he doesn’t care. all he wants is to see you again.

if he could, he’d have no need for the girlfriend that waits up for him after the bar. no requisite for her making his lunches, washing his hair, doing his laundry, unzipping his pants after a stressful day. yunho wishes he could love his girlfriend the way he always had, but the truth is, the first time you sunk your teeth into him ruined any future he had with her. 

a month later, he saw your friend again. the one from that night who stood by, observing, looking through yunho like he was transparent, naked to the human eye. across that same bar, he couldn’t contain his surprise, couldn’t stop himself from widening his eyes or dropping his jaw. an invitation, an opportunity, an answer for his questions, first being where the hell have you been? when will he see you again? did you mention anything about him? did you at least admit he was a good fuck? he’s bursting at the seams with impatience, heart pounding so hard against his broad chest he could hear it. 

she didn’t give him much, not that he went about it in an inconspicuous way. pestering her with questions, pushing for answers, trying his best to seem interested but not flat out creepy. it didn’t work very well. he couldn’t contain his excitement, his urgency, his yearning, she could see straight through him once again. he was off his game. 

what she did give him was your last name, a common last name which was surprisingly a nickname for you used more often than not. she didn’t even notice the reveal of this key piece of information, not even when the wicked smile threatened to crack his best innocent facade. 

he didn’t sleep with anyone that night, didn’t look for you in any women at that dingy bar. he did go home and sleep with his pretty little girlfriend, who once again overlooked the smell of infidelity and heineken oozing from his skin, as she always does. when her eyes closed and her breaths turned rhythmic and slow, he pulled out his phone, deciding to do his research in the dead of night. 

there were plenty of people with your first and last name, but there was only one you. he found you with ease, and your page takes him by surprise. you post everything. it tells him so much, too much, and gives plenty of ammunition for his right hand that couldn’t resist the ache in his dick. by the point of post nut clarity, he’s cooking up an idea, which turns to an objective, a plan. he fell asleep with a smile on his face and a sense of urgency he couldn’t wait to fulfill. 

he waits until the next weekend, and not patiently. he’s checking your instagram every day, watching your stories off of a burner account, he nearly starts a list in his notes of places you frequent, your orders from coffee shops, things you like. he’d have to tell you to stop making it so easy to know you, understand you, to find you. 

it’s clear you’re a free spirit, not a thought in your brain that someone is watching you, examining you, waiting for you. but he wants you this way, oblivious, unsuspecting, surprised when he shows up to your place of work. maybe you’re used to the attention, yunho thinks, you’re beautiful and you definitely know it, too. as much as he has the urge to hide you, keep you from desiring eyes, he’s proud, in a way, that you can show yourself off so openly. you won’t hide yourself the way his girlfriend does, you didn’t shy off from him for a moment in those four hours he spent with you six weeks ago. 

his friends are surprised that he wants to go anywhere besides his favorite dingy bar in the middle of manhattan, especially with the luxury of a VIP section and bottle service, but he doesn’t kiss and tell. he quickly blamed the hastily prepared outing on his friend’s internship acceptance when his friends questioned the occasion, he’d rather them be unaware. especially with his girlfriend present, much to his dismay. he let them think he’s just a good friend, despite his intentions being more than culpable. the less they know, the better, even though a couple of them definitely have an idea — he couldn’t hide it from everyone. 

when they finally made it to the line outside of the nightclub, a smaller group of six, muffled pounds of the heavy bass from inside only increased the sweat on yunho’s palms. he knew you were inside, in a tight little bodysuit, sparkly tights and a pair of heels on your feet. he wished he could blame the adrenaline as his pants grew tighter, not on the fact that you were inside, not knowing he gathered a whole group of people and improvised an entire celebration just to see your face again. 

he immediately skipped the line, telling the bouncer his last name, and got the group inside with ease. different hues of purples and greens and blues reflected the ceilings, the walls, the tables, the floor. if he wasn’t so one-track minded he’d be overstimulated. he was brought to the section with his friends following closely behind, he forced the adrenaline to leave his face, his body, his hands. his scheme was set in motion, he needed to lock in, let go of any emotion that might incriminate him, make him seem suspicious. 

he ordered bottles, vodka, tequila and whiskey, three chances for you to make your way around to his section, maybe carrying a sign or carrying a bottle or simply clapping and cheering with your coworkers. when he met you, he didn’t expect you to be a bottle girl at a night club, but he supposed that explains why you haven’t been back to his favorite bar. he assumed you were a full time student, but if he had to guess, maybe a retail employee or a coffee shop barista, something simple, just to get the bills paid so you can live as freely as you want. he was thoroughly mistaken, yet he couldn’t complain. 

especially not when you made your way over to the table, bucket of ice and mixers in your hands, a huge smile on your face. he knew exactly what you’d be wearing: a tiny little black bodysuit that left nothing to the imagination, sparkling tights that mirrored the strobe lights so perfectly, a pair of heels so high he wondered how you were walking so smoothly. that wicked smile appeared on his lips again, the pride of victory flowing through his veins, despite him willing away any emotion reflecting on his face. he should’ve known his body wouldn’t listen to him when it came to you, but his plan had worked, you’re here, bringing juices and sodas and not helping his dick that refuses to soften in his jeans.

he catches your eye and keeps it as you bent forward, setting down the bucket on the table, someone else putting down the bottles beside it. yunho couldn’t be bothered to notice anyone else, not when you keep eye contact as the little show you put on ends, definitely not when you stare over your shoulder as you and your crowd go back to wherever you came from. 

as you get back behind the bar, a rush of adrenaline racks through you, you could feel the buzz all the way in your fingertips and toes. he’s here, he’s here, he’s here. 

you immediately run to the bathroom, checking your makeup, adjusting yourself in your outfit. he was the last person you’d expect to see tonight, you’ve never seen him here before, haven’t seen him at all since that perfect night you spent together. the past six weeks you couldn’t get him out of your mind, couldn’t stop thinking about his long fingers, long legs, he’s long everywhere. you’d never had a better one night stand — you cursed yourself every day since leaving before he woke up, not leaving him with at least your phone number. but a saturday night spent in a hotel, blocks down from that dingy fucking bar, he definitely didn’t want anything more from you than a quick fuck, never to hear from you again. you could be okay with that, you needed to be okay with that.

“boo, could you grab me a bottle of casamigos from the back?” the main bartender for the night asks as you walk out of the employee bathroom, frantically looking for someone to help her out. 

you pause for a moment, her question ripping you out of your daydream and you nod in response. you hurry to the back, grab a bottle, and make your way out to the bar. 

the spotlight from the dance floor might as well of shone directly on him as he stood at the bar, taller than everyone else, a sore thumb despite his dark clothes. you took a breath, a smile on your face, excitement flooding you. 

“hello there, stranger,” you say as you drop the bottle on the shelf then turn to him, “you guys went through three bottles that quick?” 

he shakes his head, “i like to take my time, you know that.”

“i know that very well, spine breaker,” you plant your palms against the bar, shifting your weight to one foot. behind the bar was slightly staged, that in combination with the heels, yunho’s height didn’t seem as intimidating. 

amusement laced his features, “then why’d you leave? i would’ve taken even longer in the morning,” he quirks a brow and your mouth forms a small ‘o’, that was the last thing that you expected out of his mouth. 

you shrug casually, not believing the words out of his mouth, “that holiday inn wasn’t very�� enticing. if you were trying to romance me you should’ve at least taken me to a marriott.” 

this makes a chuckle escape his lips, “my bad, just wanted to get you under me as quickly as possible.” 

an ah leaves your lips with a nod, “which you did, so why are you standing at my bar? can i get you something?” you couldn’t exactly place why your tone turned irritated, you might’ve been hoping for a little more than that. 

“another night with you,” the corner of his lips pull up, a smirk appearing on his face, that same fucking smirk that pulled you under him in the first place. 

a laugh barrels out of your mouth before you can stop it, “go back to your little friends and get away from my bar unless you’re buying me a shot, yunho.” 

your words are leaving your mouth before you can think about them, your mouth moving faster than your brain. the last thing you want is for him to leave, walk away, forget about you. you wanted the same thing he did, even if you wanted more. 

he leans in closer and you fight the urge to step back, his tight jaw and lowered eyes daring you. you don’t give in.

“oh? was that a no?” his expression doesn’t change despite his playful words, “what a shame. i’ll meet you after your shift is over.” 

he turns to walk away and you can feel the heat in your cheeks. you call after him and he turns with a single eyebrow raised, “meet me where?”

“wherever the closest marriott is,” his playful smile returned to his lips, the same one you met him with. it excited you and made you nervous, you weren’t used to meeting hookups at hotels. 

their apartments, whether they live alone or with roommates, yes, but never hotels. it made you feel like a hooker first, and that’s usually a red flag and means someone is married, or worse, still lives with their parents. living in such a huge, expensive city, a hotel for a night isn’t cheap at all whatsoever. you decide not to think about it too much, let yourself bask in the excitement of being with him, and look forward to an entire night dedicated to letting off some steam. 

“who was that?” yunho’s girlfriend asks when he slides into the booth next to her, petting his bicep. her question is full of innocence, her eyes still bright, slightly glazed over with need, definitely from the one or two shots she took in his absence. 

“mingi’s favorite fling at the moment,” he gives her a tight lipped smile and kisses her head, pulling her closer to his side. mingi was always the easiest out, she bought it every damn time. 

the rest of the night he sat with his cute little girlfriend on the booth wrapped around the table, he didn’t see you again. he was fighting to keep his excitement to himself the longer he got away with it — not just his girlfriend seeing you, but you seeing his girlfriend, who wound up basically on his lap the more she drank. his friends drank and danced, the six of them together finished all three bottles, a few of them even moved out to the dance floor instead of their private section. as much as yunho hated places like this, he loved to be with his friends, see them happy, spend time with them in such a carefree environment. 

when it came up on midnight, yunho decided it’d be best to head home, taking his girlfriend with him. she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, which she usually did after a good fuck. after some drinks in her, he knew she was out for the night, she’d sleep through a tornado. not that there would be one in new york city. 

he even had time to shower before he headed out for the night, literally choosing your preferred hotel closest to the club. he got a room and headed over to the bar, having another drink or two before they shut it down for the night. he waited past two, three…

it was 3:45 and he started to lose hope. he realized you’d never even said yes — were you even going to show? did you forget in the craziness of your shift? what time did the club even close? when did you usually get home? these kinds of hours really mess with someone’s sleep schedule. 

every few minutes he’d glance at the glass doors, hoping and praying you’d walk inside. 

ten minutes past 4, you finally did walk through the revolving entrance, and relief rushed through him. ugg slippers, sweatpants, a hoodie and your hair tied up, all he could think is how excited he was to take it all off of you. his skin was burning with impatience, he almost leapt off his seat. 

“i was starting to think you forgot about me,” he starts, a curated smile placed on his cheeks as he slips from the faux leather chair. 

“a part of me didn’t think you were serious,” you respond in the same tone, coming to a still in the middle of the lobby. 

he couldn’t place the emotion in your eyes, you looked unsure, nervous even, from across the lobby. he made it to you in two quick strides, towering over your small frame. 

“yet you still showed up,” he wore the same face from earlier when he stared you down over the bar, eyes low, hungry. he could smell you, nearly taste you on his tongue. you still had your makeup on and he immediately knows there’s no way you had time to wash up, for some reason it made his pants tighter. 

“here i am,” you shrug, picking at your sleeve. you looked so small, your cocky demeanor from earlier far gone, replaced by uneasiness, an emotion he hasn’t seen on you yet. it fed his own power trip, in combination with his figure that completely enveloped your own, he felt on top of the world. like he owned you already. 

he huffed out a small let’s go and grabbed your dainty hand that peeked out of your sleeve, guiding you to the elevator, up to the room. 

“this is nice,” you compliment the suite, blacks and grays and wood accents filling the space. 

“everything you dreamed of?” he sits down on the bed, legs spread, hands behind him. 

“i wouldn’t say that,” a small smile appears on your face as you tuck a stray hair behind your ear, standing awkwardly in front of him. 

“no? after i got exactly what you asked for,” yunho slips a tsk out, tilting his head to the side and his chin up, staring you down from under his eyebrows. 

your giggle is nervous, “that’s not what i meant. i’m just wondering why we’re at a hotel,” your curiosity got the best of you, you physically couldn’t hold the question back, unable to shake the feeling of something being off.

“do you want me to be honest, or lie?” he asks, his voice full of amusement. the question takes you by surprise and you have to think about it for a second, there’s layers to that ask. layers you don’t know if you want to peel, something about his tone makes you not want to know the truth. 

“lie,” your voice is barely above a whisper, and a shiver crawls up your spine. that off feeling must’ve been your gut, fully awake now, talking to you, screaming at you, saying you shouldn’t be here. 

“i live with three guys, don’t wanna keep them up all night,” he licks his lips, the lie so evidently fucking clear on his tongue, the lie you asked for. the lie you needed to go through with this despite your gut begging you otherwise. 

you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, “that’s nice of you.” 

he shrugs, pulling his hands into his lap, slouching forward ever so slightly, making himself smaller. his body language is intentional, he could read it all over you that you didn’t need to be intimidated, you need to be comforted. feel at ease, feel the want, feel that same primal fucking hunger that was beginning to consume him. 

“i’m a nice guy,” his face contorts, an easygoing smile on his lips instead of that dangerous smirk, “come here, stranger.” 

he uses the same word on you that you used earlier and it evokes a smile from you, a genuine smile, he’s grateful that’s all it takes to crack you open. he didn’t have it in him to try anymore. 

as you take two steps forward he leans back, displaying his lap for you to sit. you wrap around him, your knees hugging his hips, your arms wrapping around his neck. 

“there she is,” his voice is sweet and soft, laced with desire as he looks up to you, shifting himself under you, “been so long.”

you whimper out his name, immediately feeling him press up into you, your eyebrows furrowing. you wanted to be okay with this, wanted to press your gut feeling down, but you couldn’t. 

he mumbled out a hm? as he pressed close mouthed kisses to your jaw, his brain already miles ahead of you. you wanted to say fuck your curiosity, fuck the truth, fuck whatever he’s hiding, but it’s eating at you. you can’t relax in his touch the way you’re desperate to. 

“wan’ you to be honest now,” it was half a moan when it exited your lips, and yunho didn’t miss a beat. 

“no you don’t,” he spits out too fast, the truth keeping itself hidden somewhere beneath his heavy chestnut bangs. his hands traveled up your back, beneath your hoodie, “i missed you, wanna taste you.” 

as his tongue makes contact with the column of your neck you let out a hiss, his touch feeling like electricity, sending your brain elsewhere. 

he could tell. he could read it all over you.

he could feel the stiffness, the discomfort that touched every bone in your body, he was over it. how did he get here? he just wanted to see you again. he shouldn’t of answered that question the way he did and he knows it, but he also is willing to bet his life on the fact that you’ll fold. he can’t find a single scenario where you leave him, all alone in this suite, spending the night by yourself elsewhere. 

he thinks on it for a moment, an evil thought crossing his mind for a second, that one second easily spinning him into a spiral. did you have something else lined up? is that why you wanted to leave so bad? you were seeing someone else after him? an emotion he can’t explain is simmering inside him, something between rage and hurt and the urge to prove himself. he’ll show you why you missed him, why you needed him, why no one else will ever fuck you the way he can. 

he attacks your neck instead, sucking harshly and groping your ass under your sweatpants, making you jolt forward into his chest with a muddled moan. he chuckles in a low tone before picking you up and putting you on your back in one quick motion. you yelp at that, no doubt taking you by surprise, he can’t help but keep laughing. the laughter is dry, it’s knowing, it’s a little menacing, too. 

as he attached his lips onto yours, he can feel you physically melt into him. your body softens, that tension that once sat in your shoulders now gone, your fingers pulling into his hair. 

finally, he thinks. 

once again, jeong yunho’s winning streak continues, and he can’t help the prideful look as he looms over you. 

you audibly said fuck it. 

as long as his lips were on yours, his dick continued to press into your too layered core with experienced fingers touching every bit of your skin, you didn’t fucking care. you didn’t see a wedding ring and, shit, if he did still live with his parents, the hotel room was pretty nice. you could live with that. 

your body felt hot — too fucking hot. you had too many layers on, too much weight on top of you, impatience was crawling up your throat. 

“take this off,” you tugged at his shirt, mumbling between kisses, and he obliged. you took the moment of freedom to strip yourself of your hoodie, unclipping your bra with one hand. 

he watches in amusement, lips glossed over with your spit and a still growing tent in his jeans. you’re thirsty, you’re hungry, you’re itching for him. and he can read it all over you. 

“take it easy, we have all night, princess,” he comments, yet his pupils are blown and his hands immediately flocked to your chest, “such perfect fuckin’ tits.” 

“take it easy, my ass,” you laugh before he shuts you up quick, attaching a slick mouth to one of your nipples, making an involuntary gasp leave your lips. you arch your back and your head digs into the pillow, sizzling hot pleasure coming from every nerve ending, a moan leaving your lips as two fingers wrap around the other and pinch. 

“fuck,” you’re hissing out in pain and pleasure and he switches, soothing the sore one over with a soft tongue, rough fingertips tweaking the other. you buck your hips up and he chuckles into your chest, the vibrations against you only made you moan louder. 

he finally pulls away, looking down at you with hooded eyes that matched your own, paired with a snicker from your reactions, “you gonna survive me this time?” 

you smack his bicep with a laugh, “fuck you.” 

“patience, baby,” is all he responds as he reaches for the waistband of your sweatpants, pulling them down in one swift go. you feel the cool air hit you and you can feel yourself steaming, body too hot for the chill of the room that you didn’t notice until now. 

he peppers open mouthed kisses along your stomach, all wet and messy and hot. you whimpered, your hips bucking again at the stimulation, body craving more. muscle memory took the driver’s seat from the last time you slept with him, your body knew what was to come, and the anticipation was killing you. 

he spreads your legs, a strip of black lace standing between yunho and what he would choose as his last meal. he uses the pad of his thumb to rub you through your underwear, making quick circles across the bundle of nerves. his pressure was too light to get any real friction and you buck and twitch against his thumb, but he catches you before you can get any satisfaction against him. 

“yun, please,” you beg, chest growing hot. your knees are nearly touching the bed from your legs spread so wide, you didn’t have the energy to endure the teasing. 

“please what?” the corner of his mouth lifts, brown hooded eyes full of amusement. you whine, frustration getting the best of you, not a care for what you look or sound like. you needed friction, relief. 

“finger me, eat me out, i don’t care, please,” your words are rushed and breathy, audibly impatient. embarrassment is last on your list of worries right now. 

“yes ma’am,” he nods and pushes your underwear to the side, not even taking the time to fully take them off of you. you mentally thank him for it. 

he’s quick to spread your slick up your slit, letting out a pleased noise at how wet you are. you were wet the second he said the word marriott at the club, it’s been steadily accumulating since, you thought about him and what’s to come nonstop until you clocked out. he pushes a finger inside, hooking it upwards, pulling a guttural moan from inside you, ripping you out of your thoughts. 

your head shoots back into the bed, back arching, hips bucking into his hand for more. his other hand goes to grip onto your hip as you steadily rock against his finger, he’s amazed at how hungry you are for it, how shameless you could be for what you needed. he’s watching with wide eyes, not even pushing back into you, letting you guide yourself to pleasure against him. letting you use him. 

“almost forgot what a fucking slut you are,” his teeth are showing through his wide grin, eyes dark and glossed over. you’re a moaning mess, words already mushing together into something entirely unintelligible, grateful for some form of relief even though its nowhere near what you need from him. 

“only f’you,” you mumble out in between moans, eyes opening to see his gaze strictly focused on your cunt that’s swallowing his finger so greedily, “more, please?” 

“awh, you my nice girl tonight?” he finally meets your eyes, “whatever my girl wants.” 

he leans down and accompanies his finger with his mouth, immediately wrapping his lips around your clit. you yelped out, hands reaching out to tug at his hair, pulling him closer to your throbbing clit. he flattened his tongue against your folds and you started weeping, moans and words combining into a string of noises. 

he added another finger inside you and started at a brutal pace, tongue flicking at your clit at the same rhythm. his fingers curled with each thrust, looking for that sweet, spongy spot inside you. as your fingers tightened around his roots and a loud cry left your lips, he knew he found it. 

“taste so fucking good,” he said into you, not even bothering to look up at you. he was lost in your pretty pussy, the pussy he’s been dreaming about for weeks. the same pussy he’s been wishing for during sex with every other woman since you. now he has you under him, naked and screaming for him once again. yunho was overflowing with satisfaction and pride. 

satisfaction, pride and a lust so great, his cock began aching in his pants. he started grinding against the mattress mindlessly, in the same rhythm as he was using on your cunt, small moans and grunts leaving his lips just adding to your own pleasure. you could feel the familiar knot in your stomach tightening, building steadily. 

the same as him, you’d also been looking for another life-changing fuck since that night you spent together. all the worries you felt earlier were long gone, like they never happened in the first place. all that mattered was yunho and the impending orgasm he was giving you, this is all that was important to begin with. 

“close,” you moaned out, “i’m sofuckingclose yunho don’t stop!” 

he let you have it, let it consume you. it nearly blinded you, your orgasm, your head dug so fucking deep into the mattress and your joints locked up so hard it had you seeing stars on the inside of your eyelids. he guided you through it, steadily pumped his fingers and kept his pattern on your clit until you were thrashing against him, hands pulling up on his hair to get him off of you. 

he had half a mind to keep going, pleasure you through the overstimulation, he needed to see you cum again. with your eyes rolled into the back of your head, back arched up and lethal noises leaving your lips… he could watch it on repeat for days, months, years. it’s his new favorite movie. he let you come down, tore his lips off of you, slowing his fingers movements down to nothing. 

he quickly crawled back up to kiss you, tongue sliding into your mouth, and you tasted yourself happily. your hands trailed up his arms that stood strong beside your head, then down his chest, down to his waistband. your fingers slipped underneath his boxers to grip his length, and the action almost made him cum in his pants, his patience is running too thin. he’s so fucking horny, so blue balled by the mattress he just fucked his hips into like a middle schooler, he needed release and he needed it fast, despite wanting this night to last a lifetime. 

his hips bucked into your hand and you giggled, “i think you missed me.” 

“you have no fucking idea,” is all he responds as he pulls away from you, slipping his sweats down to his ankles and then off of him entirely. you make quick work of getting your panties off, the black lace seeing enough action for one night. you needed to feel him against you, all of him, no barriers. 

“enlighten me then,” you spit into your hand as he crawls above you once more, spreading it all over his already leaking cock. he grunts out, hips twitching, he needed you just as bad as you needed him. 

“missed these fucking tits,” he said as he grabs your chest, squeezing them hard. you kept your pace on his cock, tugging upward, circling your hand around him. 

“missed your pretty face,” he leaned down and planted a kiss on your lips then another on your jawline. 

“missed eating that sweet pussy,” he leaned down, out of reach for you to keep stroking him, and spit on your already too slick cunt while holding your legs up.

“missed fucking you stupid,” he lined himself up, spreading his precum and spit all over your folds. you hissed out, hips bucking to meet him, hoping to push him inside you already. 

“missed hearing you when you cum,” he matched your impatience and pushed inside, met with no resistance, sheathing himself inside you without hesitation. you screamed, screamed so fucking loud the entire hotel probably heard you, not expecting him to fill you so fast. 

“missed that sound, too,” he smiled, bottoming out, and you couldn’t respond. couldn’t do anything but breathe, the sheer length of him overwhelming, stealing your senses. he filled you so good, so right, you couldn’t form thoughts let alone words. primal instinct took over, your body moved before your brain could process. 

“need you to stop squeezing me so i can move, baby,” he grunts out, eyebrows furrowing, “missed this tight pussy too much, all i could think about for weeks.” 

“ho- holy fuck yunho, y’split me fucking open,” you choke out, trying to relax your muscles, trying to get your breathing even. 

“what’s that you called me earlier? spine breaker?” he asked, and his demeanor was too cool, too casual. like being inside of you wasn’t affecting him nearly as much as it was affecting you. you couldn’t bring yourself to care as you nodded, the only response you could muster. 

he chuckled, chuckled, while being balls deep inside you, “that’s a new one.” 

that’s all he said before he started moving. with no warning, if you weren’t sure before that he split you fucking open, you were definitely sure now. you were a screaming mess underneath him as he rutted into you, long fingers hooked under your knees, pressing them toward your head, you only got louder. 

“fucking h-hell, yunho,” you cried out, eyes lolling back again as he fucked into you at a harsh pace. 

“so fucking wet,” his knuckles were turning white at his grip on your legs, pistoling himself at a rhythm only he could keep up with, easily rearranging your insides. 

“you can take it,” he says before you can say a word, he can see your eyebrows furrowed, your moans muzzled down to small sounds of despair leaving your lips. he knows he’s being rough, he knows he’s fucking you harshly, but you’ve taken it before, so you can do it again. 

“yun, i don- i can’t—”

“yes you can,” he encourages, but it doesn’t feel much like encouragement as he only picks up the pace. 

he gives you a second to breathe when he pulls out, but he only flips you over, pulling you up by your hips so you’re on all fours. you hiccup, already reduced to jelly, you don’t know if your legs can withstand the force of his thrusts. 

“slutty little cunt has taken me before, she’ll do it again,” his words are just as harsh as his thrusts as he slips back in, pushing your back down into the mattress with a large hand when it inevitably rises to meet his thrusts. 

your face meets the pillow, turning to the side so you can at least breathe, tears wetting the mattress at his relentless abuse at your cunt. he reaches around your hips and brings a finger to your clit, rubbing quick circles, and god you don't even know what sounds are coming out of you at this point. 

tears and screams are leaving you, but your hips are fucking back on him, meeting his thrusts, and he’s smiling. wide, teeth showing, he’s so prideful. he knew you could do it, take him, take whatever he’s giving you, because you’re a slut. his slut. he won’t let you out of his hands again. 

“f-fuck ‘m close, fuck,” he can hear the sobs through your words, he only wishes he could see the tears that are now soaking the mattress, no doubt ruining your makeup. 

he could feel it in himself too, he was far too close to be fucking you like this. as much as he needed release, he wasn’t ready to cum just yet. he wanted to see you. 

he flipped you back over, slipping back inside you with ease, and your arms immediately hooked around his neck to pull him into a kiss. 

it was sweet, almost soft, the way you were kissing him when the way he fucked you was almost dehumanizing. like you didn’t matter, your pleasure was up to you, yet you both knew that was far from the truth. his thrusts kept up as he kissed you slow, nasty, tongues moving in tandem with another. you were whimpering in his mouth and he could feel you tightening around him, he knew you were close. 

“there you go baby, cum on this cock,” he broke the kiss, keeping your foreheads together, plowing into you with fervor. 

“gonna,” tears still streamed down your face, back arching so your chests met, skin touching skin. he needed you to cum now, he could feel his continence slipping. 

you finally tightened around him, really tightened around him, a high pitched, languid moan leaving your lips. he only repeated yes, yes as you shook against him, creaming around his cock. he finally let his release take him over, burying himself inside you, filling you up. 

you could feel every drop, the warmth spreading through you like wildfire, there was no other feeling like it. it was comforting, being so full, being so heavy with this huge man resting his weight on top of you.

he finally rolls off, laying beside you, catching his breath just as you were. 

“it’s kinda crazy that you came to my club tonight,” you take your hair out of it’s entanglement on top of your head, letting it fall free on the bed, “i really thought i’d never see you again.” 

“i’d never let that happen,” he shook his head, eyes closed as he laid beside you, chest still heaving. 

“what do you mean?” you turned to look at him, “you knew i worked there?” 

“nah, i’m just lucky.” 

[seospicybin]

I PUT A SPELL ON YOU.

Hyunjin x reader. (s,a)

Synopsis: New to the company, you're determined to prove yourself even if it means competing against Hyunjin, your arrogant and hostile rival. But when your ambition pushes you toward using a spell to sway the odds in your favor, you find yourself caught between power and love. (15,9k words)

Author's note: Indulged myself by toying with Hyunjin with some magick in this fic. Happy Halloween, witches!

🎧 I PUT A SPELL ON YOU Playlist

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Neither the story, the characters nor the spells are real (but if it works, do tell me though!)

“With fire in my veins and steel in my spine. Today the world bends, and all power is mine.”

The words slip from your lips like a quiet command, filling the room as you light the small candle on your vanity. Its flame flickers in the dim light of the early morning, casting soft shadows across your reflection.

You watch the fire dance as you crush the herbs between your fingers, feeling the energy settle into your bones with each breath. You repeat the mantra, slower this time, letting it sink into your very core. “Today the world bends, and all power is mine.”

It feels like a promise—one you fully intend to keep.

The scent of lavender and sage rises as you sprinkle the herbs into a dish, swirling the smoke in the air. You close your eyes and let your fingers trace the edge of your almanac, waiting for its familiar warmth to guide you. When you flip to today’s date, the message is clear: wear something red.

You open your wardrobe, pulling out the deep crimson blouse that almost seems to glow under the morning light. Red for confidence, for strength. Exactly what you’ll need for today.

As you slip it on, you can already feel the shift. Power hums in the air around you, and your reflection in the mirror sharpens, the red drawing out the determination in your eyes.

The meeting ahead is important, but you don’t yet know just how much the day will reveal. Still, you trust your instincts—and your rituals. They haven’t failed you yet. You blow out the candle, the smoke rising in delicate wisps as you stand tall.

One last look in the mirror, and you’re ready. Your mantra echoes in your mind as you step out the door, each word a steady beat in time with your footsteps.

Today, the world will bend.

-

The conference room buzzes with quiet conversation as everyone settles into their seats. You stand at the head of the table, your hands resting confidently on the smooth surface in front of you. The energy you built this morning pulses beneath your skin, steady and strong. You’re ready.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Hyunjin, casually leaning back in his chair as though he already owns the room. You’ve disliked him from the first time you met him—something about his aloof demeanor, the way he carries himself like he’s always two steps ahead of everyone else. His attitude grates on you, but what really gets under your skin is the way he looks down on you, constantly dismissing your ideas and diminishing your work in front of others.

It’s like a game to him—cutting you down just as you’re about to make a point, always with that slight smirk like he’s amused by your attempts to be taken seriously. His work ethic is just as frustrating; he’s undeniably skilled, but he puts in the bare minimum, skating by on charm and reputation. Yet somehow, he’s respected, and you can’t deny that his presence at the company casts a long shadow.

Taking a breath, you begin your presentation. “As you can see, this project will not only streamline our current workflow but also cut costs by nearly 15% in the first quarter alone. The long-term benefits will put us ahead of our competitors in—”

“That’s optimistic,” Hyunjin’s voice cuts through the room like a cold wind.

He leans back in his chair, arms crossed, his sharp gaze fixed on you. “You really think a 15% cost reduction is realistic with the current resources we have?”

You maintain your composure, turning to face him directly. “Yes, I do,” you reply smoothly. “With the proper allocation of assets and a focus on efficient labor, it’s more than achievable.”

Hyunjin scoffs under his breath, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Efficient labor? So, you’re suggesting we push the current team even harder? That’s a quick way to burn everyone out, don’t you think?”

You feel the familiar prickle of frustration, but you keep your voice even. “Not harder—smarter. We can shift responsibilities and use automation in key areas to reduce manual tasks.”

Hyunjin doesn’t back down, his tone almost condescending. “Sure, but that’s easier said than done. You’re new here, maybe you don’t realize how complicated things actually are in practice. These aren’t numbers on a spreadsheet. This is reality.”

The room goes still, the weight of his words settling over the meeting like a cloud. You meet his gaze head-on, refusing to let him intimidate you. “I’m well aware of the complexities, Hyunjin. That’s why this proposal is focused on practical steps, not just theory. I’ve spent weeks analyzing the data and tailoring this plan specifically to address the challenges we face.”

He opens his mouth to respond, but before he can get another word in, one of the senior executives clears his throat, shifting in his chair.

“Let’s hear the rest of the proposal,” he says, nodding in your direction. “I’m interested in seeing how this plays out.”

You offer a polite smile and return to your presentation, feeling Hyunjin’s eyes on you the entire time. You know he’s not finished yet.

But neither are you.

-

The meeting ends smoothly enough, despite Hyunjin's interruptions. As everyone filters out of the conference room, you begin gathering your materials, ready to head back to your desk when a voice stops you.

“Could you and Hyunjin come to my office for a moment?” The senior executive, Mr. Campbell’s tone is firm, leaving no room for negotiation.

You exchange a quick glance with Hyunjin, who only raises an eyebrow in response. His expression is unreadable, but you can feel the shift in the air—the weight of something important about to happen. You follow the executive down the hall, Hyunjin walking beside you in silence.

The office is spacious, lined with awards and framed company accomplishments. Your superior gestures for both of you to sit before taking a seat behind his large mahogany desk. He steeples his fingers, his gaze flicking between the two of you.

“I’ll get straight to the point,” he says. “There’s a vacancy for a high-ranking position that’s going to be announced later this week. We’ve been watching both of you closely, and I wanted to inform you first that you’re the top two candidates for this role.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you manage to keep your face neutral. This is huge—exactly the kind of opportunity you’ve been working toward. But as you glance at Hyunjin, you can already feel the tension building. His jaw tightens slightly, though his expression remains as unreadable as ever.

“The final decision will be based on your upcoming performances,” the executive continues. “I expect you both to bring your A-game. This is a competitive process, and we’ll be monitoring everything closely. May the best candidate win.”

You nod, thanking him for the opportunity, and rise from your seat. Hyunjin follows you out of the office, his silence lingering until the door clicks shut behind you. As soon as you step into the hallway, his demeanor shifts.

“So, this is what you were after all along,” he says, his voice low and edged with disdain. “You’ve barely been here a few months, and now you think you deserve this position?” He scoffs, his eyes narrowing. “You must be really full of yourself if you think you can beat me. I’ve been here far longer, and trust me, no amount of numbers on a spreadsheet is going to change that.”

You feel a sharp sting in your chest, but you refuse to let it show. His words are meant to break your spirit, to make you doubt yourself. But you won’t give him the satisfaction.

“Maybe,” you reply, your voice steady. “But if this company values talent over seniority, then I like my chances.”

His lips curl into a condescending smile. “You’re really naive if you think that’s all it takes. You don’t know how things work here.” He steps closer, his eyes dark with hostility. “You’re out of your league, and once you fall on your face, don’t expect me to help you back up.”

His words hang heavy in the air, the venom in his tone unmistakable. But instead of shrinking under his gaze, you feel the fire rise in you—the same fire that fueled you through your morning ritual.

“We’ll see,” you say quietly, holding his stare. “I’ve survived worse.”

Hyunjin lets out a cold laugh before turning on his heel and walking away. His retreating figure is a reminder of the uphill battle ahead, but you stand firm, determined not to let him shake you. If anything, his hostility has only made your resolve stronger.

As he disappears around the corner, you take a deep breath, silently repeating the mantra that’s carried you through the day so far.

"Today, the world bends, and all power is mine."

-

The day began just like any other, with you sitting at your vanity, surrounded by the soft glow of morning light filtering through the window. The familiar scent of herbs lingered in the air from the small candles you’d lit, their flames dancing in time with your whispered words. You opened your well-worn almanac, fingers tracing over the delicate pages until you landed on today’s entry.

“Beware of the one who blocks your path to success,” it read in bold, almost ominous text.

A knowing smirk tugged at the corners of your lips. You didn’t need the stars to tell you who that was.

There was only one person in your way—Hyunjin.

The office buzzes with its usual hum of activity as you make your way down the hall toward your superior’s office. Today is important—a follow-up meeting regarding the project you proposed yesterday. You’ve spent the last few hours refining the details, ensuring that every aspect is airtight.

As you approach the door, your steps falter slightly when you see it cracked open. Through the small gap, you spot Hyunjin, casually leaning against your superior’s desk, wearing that same self-assured smirk. He’s laughing at something, his tone light, too friendly.

Of course, Hyunjin is here. What a joy!

You pause just outside the door, watching as Hyunjin straightens up and extends a hand to shake your superior’s. His easy charm is on full display, and it’s clear he’s not just discussing work—he’s playing the game, trying to get in his good graces. Sucking up, as usual.

Hyunjin turns to leave, and that’s when he spots you standing in the hallway. His gaze lingers on you for a moment before his lips curl into a mocking grin. It’s the kind of smile that speaks volumes without a word—he thinks he’s already won, that you’re wasting your time even being here. As he saunters past, he doesn’t bother hiding the look of satisfaction on his face.

“Good luck in there,” he murmurs as he brushes past you, his voice dripping with condescension.

You hold your ground, refusing to let him get under your skin, but the heat rises in your chest. He’s playing dirty, and he wants you to know it. You can feel the smugness radiating off him as he disappears down the hall, but you won’t let him see you falter.

Taking a deep breath, you knock on the door and step into your superior’s office, trying to push the encounter from your mind. There’s work to be done.

Your superior glances up from his desk, offering you a polite nod. “Ah, there you are. Come in. Let’s hear how the project’s progressing.”

You straighten your posture, clearing your mind of Hyunjin’s arrogant grin. This is your moment, not his.

“I’ve made some adjustments based on our discussion yesterday,” you say confidently, handing over the updated report. “I’m confident these changes will address the concerns raised and improve overall feasibility.”

As he flips through the report, you remain focused, determined to show that you’re not just capable—you’re the best candidate for that position. Hyunjin may think he can charm his way into the role, but you’ll let your work speak for itself.

-

As the day winds down and you gather your things to leave the office, your mind lingers on the undeniable presence of Hyunjin in the workplace. There’s no denying his stunning appearance—sharp jawline, dark, intense eyes, and a physique that seems almost unfairly perfect. You’ve overheard enough conversations in the break room to know that half the women in the office can’t help but swoon when he walks by. His smile alone is enough to make them forget his sharp words and ruthless behavior.

But you know better.

His good looks are nothing more than a mask—a distraction from the truth beneath the surface. He’s charming, sure, but it’s a hollow charm, one that hides his low attitude and arrogance. He uses that exterior to get what he wants, and it works. It always works. You’ve seen it happen too many times—people falling for his act, completely oblivious to the venom that lies just beneath the surface.

The elevator doors ding open, and as you step inside, you’re immediately greeted by the sight of Hyunjin. He’s standing near the back, casually leaning against the wall with a girl by his side, one of the junior employees who’s practically hanging on his every word. His hand brushes lightly against her arm, and she giggles at something he says, her eyes wide with adoration. You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

Typical.

Hyunjin doesn’t even acknowledge your presence as you step into the elevator, his focus entirely on the girl. He’s all smiles and flirty comments, leaning closer to her as if the rest of the world doesn’t exist. Meanwhile, you stay quiet, standing in the opposite corner, watching the entire display unfold. It’s sickening, really—how easily he can turn it on and off, like a switch. And the girl, clearly oblivious to his true nature, laps it all up.

As you stand in the elevator, that earlier warning from the almanac feels more present than ever. Of course, Hyunjin has found his way into your path again, trying to overshadow you with his presence. You watch him now, flirting effortlessly with the girl at his side, but your mind linger on the almanac's words. It's as if the universe has planned this moment—Hyunjin, here, in your way yet again.

When the elevator finally reaches the parking basement, the doors slide open, and Hyunjin steps out with the girl still by his side. You follow a few steps behind, trying to ignore the gnawing irritation bubbling in your chest.

“Wait here,” Hyunjin says to the girl, flashing her a smile that makes her cheeks flush. She nods eagerly, waiting near his sleek black car.

As you walk past, hoping to leave without another encounter, Hyunjin’s voice stops you in your tracks.

“Going somewhere?” His tone is smooth, but laced with that familiar edge of condescension.

You pause, turning slowly to face him. His expression is smug, as if he’s enjoying every second of this.

“I have somewhere to be, Hyunjin,” you say flatly, already tired of the exchange.

He steps closer, his gaze narrowing slightly as he looks down at you. “You know, you should really think about backing off while you still can. This position? It’s not for you.” His voice drops, dripping with mock concern. “You don’t have what it takes to compete with someone like me.”

His words are meant to sting, and they do—but not in the way he expects. They only fuel your determination, solidifying the decision you’ve already made.

“I guess we’ll see about that,” you reply coldly, refusing to let him rattle you.

Hyunjin’s lips curl into a sneer, and for a brief moment, you can see the hostility beneath the charming exterior he puts on for the others. He pops the gum he’s been chewing out of his mouth and spits it carelessly on the ground near your feet, giving you a final, disdainful look.

“See you around,” he mutters before turning away, walking back to the girl who’s waiting by his car, completely dismissing you.

You stand there for a moment, watching as he leans casually against his car, resuming his flirtations with the girl. Your fingers curl into a fist at your side, and you glance down at the gum he spat out.

Something inside you snaps. You can’t take any more of this.

Without a second thought, you crouch down and pick up the discarded gum, wrapping it in a tissue and slipping it into your bag. There’s a plan forming in your mind, but you’re not ready to think about it yet.

All you know is that Hyunjin’s going to regret crossing you, one way or another.

-

It’s the perfect night to cast a spell and the waxing moon is great for increasing and bringing in things.

The flickering candlelight casts shadows against the walls, filling the room with a sense of mystery. On your desk lies the worn book of spells, its pages marked and folded from use.

Tonight, it’s time to change things.

Hyunjin’s gum—the one he spat out so arrogantly earlier—sits in a tissue beside you. It’s a small token, but it holds enough of his essence for the spell. His arrogance, his condescending behavior, all captured in that one careless act.

You gather the rest of the ingredients, placing them carefully on the table:

Lavender petals: for calmness, to ease his aggression and soften his temper.

Chamomile leaves: to create peace between the two of you and to cleanse away his negativity.

Honey: to sweeten his attitude, to turn his harshness into something kinder.

A strand of your hair: to ensure the spell keeps him from acting against you.

Finally, you add the gum, the key to linking the spell to Hyunjin. You position the ingredients around a white candle, symbolizing clarity and transformation, and light it. The flame flickers brightly, and the atmosphere in the room begins to shift, the energy growing heavier, more focused.

With everything set, you hover over the book of spells, reading the words aloud in a low, steady voice:

"By this gum of arrogance and thorn of strife, I turn your heart from scorn to life.

By lavender's calm and honey's grace, let kindness bloom in every space."

You sprinkle the lavender petals and chamomile leaves over the gum, watching them fall like whispers of peace onto the small token. Your hair and the honey are next, binding the spell with your own energy and a touch of sweetness.

"No longer shall you wound with word, your bitterness no more heard.

From this day forth, your spirit will mend, a decent heart you shall extend."

The candle’s flame flickers, the air growing warmer as the spell settles into the room. You feel the shift, the moment the magic takes hold. Hyunjin’s biting words, his sharp demeanor—they’ll change. The spell will soften him, make him the kind of person who no longer seeks to diminish you or others.

A quiet smile touches your lips. The spell is complete, and you know its effect will be permanent. Tomorrow, the tides will begin to turn. He’ll change, and in time, perhaps the world will see him differently. But you—you’ll know why.

With the spell done, you blow out the candle, the smoke curling into the air like the last breath of tension leaving your space. You feel lighter, more in control.

For a moment, you allow yourself to feel the quiet thrill of victory. But this is just the beginning. The almanac has been right—someone is standing in your way, but now you are removing that obstacle, one spell at a time.

-

The next day at the office feels like any other.

The buzz of conversations, the soft hum of printers, and the click of keyboards fill the air. You go about your morning routine with a steady resolve, eyes catching Hyunjin briefly in the hallway. He walks past, offering nothing but his usual unreadable expression. No smirks, no scoffs, nothing out of the ordinary.

For a moment, you wonder if the spell worked. Maybe it wasn’t strong enough, maybe his attitude is just too deeply ingrained. But you brush the thought aside, knowing that change takes time.

The meeting arrives before you expect it. As you take your seat, you notice Hyunjin already sitting across the table, his eyes focused on the papers in front of him. There’s no dismissive glance, no thinly veiled sneer like there usually is when you walk into the room. You push down the flicker of hope and focus on the task at hand.

Today, you're presenting your revised project, the one you've poured your energy into perfecting after last time. With calm confidence, you begin walking through the slides, laying out the details and improvements with precision.

Everything is going smoothly. The board members listen intently, a few of them nodding in agreement as you go over the main points. But then, out of the corner of your eye, you catch Hyunjin shifting in his seat. Your stomach tightens. You know what’s coming. He always finds something to undermine, always has a sharp comment ready to tear down your work.

You glance his way as you near the end of your presentation, half-expecting him to cut in, but he doesn’t. No interruptions. No dismissive interjections. You continue, slightly thrown but determined to finish strong.

As you wrap up, the room falls silent. You know it’s time for feedback, and just as you're preparing for the usual barrage of critique, Hyunjin raises his hand.

This is it. He’s going to tear your project apart, find something trivial to pick at in front of everyone.

But instead, Hyunjin speaks calmly, his voice steady, almost considerate. "I just want to say," he begins, "this is a solid project. The revisions make it stronger, and I think it could be really beneficial for the company."

You blink, stunned. Did he just… compliment you?

For a second, you can’t quite believe what you’re hearing. You expect a catch, a hidden jab somewhere in his words, but there’s none. His expression is neutral—serious even. The room murmurs in agreement, the board looking impressed by his input.

And that’s when it hits you. The spell worked.

The shift in the room feels surreal. Hyunjin, the one who usually thrives on belittling your work, is praising it instead. You force yourself to remain composed, nodding politely as the meeting concludes. But inside, a sense of triumph is rising.

As everyone begins to gather their things, your gaze lingers on Hyunjin. He stands, collects his notes, and walks out without another word.

A small, victorious smile pulls at the corner of your lips. You did it. The spell worked perfectly and this is only the beginning.

-

The days that follow feel different—lighter, easier. There’s no tension bubbling beneath the surface when you walk into meetings, no second-guessing whether you’ll be cut off mid-sentence. Hyunjin’s sharp words have disappeared, replaced by a silence that almost feels like respect. For the first time since you started at the company, you feel like you can breathe.

It’s strange, almost surreal, watching Hyunjin go about his day without a trace of his old attitude. The way he treats others has changed, too. No more dismissive remarks or smug glances in the hallways. He’s... decent. Civil, even.

And the best part? You’re responsible for it. That thought alone brings a sense of satisfaction each time you cross paths with him.

It’s mid-afternoon when you’re in your office, sorting through emails and papers scattered across your desk, when you hear a soft knock at the door. You glance up, surprised to see Hyunjin standing there, leaning casually against the doorframe. He’s not scowling or sneering like he used to—instead, there’s something almost playful in his expression.

“Got a minute?” he asks, and without waiting for a response, he steps inside, closing the door behind him.

You don’t say anything at first, just watch as he moves closer, stopping at your desk. He picks up your pen, twirling it between his fingers with a lazy, practiced ease, and leans against the edge of your desk, his body language relaxed and confident. A smile tugs at his lips—one of those flirty, boyish smiles that makes you wonder how this is the same man who used to make your work life hell.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry,” he begins, glancing down at the pen he’s still playing with before looking back at you. “For how I’ve been... you know, before. I wasn’t exactly nice.”

It’s an understatement, but you don’t point that out. Instead, you tilt your head, studying him. His tone is genuine, his eyes softened in a way that makes it hard to reconcile this version of Hyunjin with the one from just a week ago.

“Thanks,” you reply, keeping your voice steady.

Inside, though, there’s a thrill that courses through you. The spell is working better than you could have hoped. Not only has his attitude changed, but he’s... charming. And somehow, knowing that you’re the one responsible for this transformation makes him even more appealing.

Hyunjin sets the pen down and straightens up slightly, still leaning close enough to your desk that there’s a noticeable intimacy in the space between you.

“I’m having a party this weekend,” he says, his voice dropping to something a bit more personal. “For my birthday. I was thinking maybe you could come? We could... start over, you know? Clear the slate.”

There’s a playful lilt to his words, and the smile he gives you—genuine, flirtatious, and more than a little tempting—makes it hard to say no.

You pause, pretending to think it over, though the answer is already on the tip of your tongue. Part of you is drawn to this new Hyunjin, this man who stands before you with easy confidence and charm. But more than that, there’s a secret satisfaction in knowing that you’ve shaped him into this. He’s the product of your power, your spell, and now he’s the one extending an olive branch.

“Alright,” you say finally, giving him a small smile of your own. “I’ll be there.”

His grin widens, a mix of relief and something else—something almost victorious—as he pushes himself off your desk and heads for the door. “Great. I’ll see you there, then.”

And just like that, he’s gone, leaving your office with a soft click of the door. You sit there for a moment, still processing the interaction, the way his smile lingered in the air after he left.

As you turn back to your work, there’s a warmth that spreads through you. This new version of Hyunjin is more than just tolerable—he’s almost magnetic. And knowing that you hold the strings to this transformation? That’s what makes it all the more intoxicating.

-

The almanac had been clear—tonight, you were to wear black. A color of power and mystery, it would amplify your presence, drawing attention without you even needing to ask for it. The reflection that stares back at you feels different from your usual self; there’s something more commanding in the way you look, as if the energy of the spell is already settling into your bones.

Your fingers hover over a necklace before picking it up, the cool metal brushing against your skin as you clasp it around your neck. It’s the final touch, and now it’s time to finish the ritual. You take a deep breath, closing your eyes, and murmur the words of the spell you’ve prepared for the night.

"By the light of the stars and shadows of the moon. Let my aura bloom and hearts swoon.

Let the eyes that see be drawn to me. And in their gaze, I’ll hold the key."

The words roll off your tongue, soft and smooth, filling the air around you. You can almost feel the shift in the atmosphere as the spell takes hold, as if the room itself bends to acknowledge the shift in your energy.

When you open your eyes again, your reflection almost seems to shimmer in the low light, your aura radiating confidence and allure. You smile, knowing the spell will work.

With one last glance at yourself, you grab your bag and head out the door.

-

The party is already in full swing by the time you arrive. The music pulses through the air, the hum of laughter and conversation mingling in a heady mix.

It’s easy to spot Hyunjin—he stands out effortlessly, even in a crowded room. Dressed in a crisp white button-down that contrasts sharply with his dark jeans, the fabric clings to his frame in all the right places. The sleeves are rolled up just below his elbows, revealing his toned forearms, and a thin silver chain glints against his collarbone, catching the light every time he moves. His hair, perfectly styled, falls slightly into his eyes, giving him a disheveled yet polished look that only adds to his magnetic charm.

Hyunjin is the center of attention, as always.

There’s something about the way he moves, all confidence and ease, like he’s completely aware of how good he looks and the effect it has on everyone around him. But tonight, you’re not intimidated by his presence. You’ve come prepared, more than equipped to handle the night.

As you make your way through the crowd, you catch Hyunjin’s eye. His gaze locks on you, and for the first time, it feels like he truly sees you. His eyes roam from your face down to your dress and back up again, taking in every detail of your appearance.

There’s a flicker of surprise in his expression before it shifts into something else—something more flirtatious. He saunters over to you, drink in hand, his lips curling into that familiar, boyish grin.

“You made it,” he says, his voice smooth, and he offers you the glass. “Here, have a drink.”

You accept it, letting your fingers brush against his as you take the glass. The brief touch sends a spark through you, though you keep your face calm.

“Of course. Wouldn’t miss it,” you reply, your tone light but with an edge of confidence. You can see the way his eyes linger on you, his usual cockiness tempered by something else—a genuine appreciation of the way you look tonight.

He steps a little closer, his voice dropping lower. “You look… different tonight. In a good way.”

You smile, meeting his gaze without flinching. “I could say the same about you.”

The tension between you is palpable now, his flirty demeanor mixed with a new kind of curiosity. But just as you feel the moment tightening between you, the night shifts. Someone calls his name from across the room, and with an apologetic smile, Hyunjin excuses himself.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” he says, before disappearing back into the crowd.

Later, you find yourself lingering near the edge of the room, sipping on your drink and watching the party unfold. You’ve had a few conversations here and there, exchanged a few pleasantries, but your eyes keep drifting back to Hyunjin.

However, there’s something that twists uncomfortably in your chest when you spot him across the room, laughing and dancing with someone else. She’s pretty, of course, all smiles and soft touches as she dances close to him. He’s leaning into it, laughing with her, his hand resting on her waist, and for some reason, it feels... unfair. You’re the one who changed him, who made him this version of himself that’s drawing people in. And yet, here he is, giving his attention to someone else.

You watch them for a moment longer, feeling a flicker of something dark and possessive tug at the edges of your thoughts.

It wasn’t supposed to bother you, seeing him like this—after all, your goal was never romantic. And yet, there’s an undeniable sting in knowing that someone else is reaping the rewards of the spell you cast. You grip your glass tighter, eyes narrowing slightly as the music thrums on, louder in your ears now.

It’s not jealousy, you tell yourself. It’s control. You made this happen, and he should be yours to manage—not hers.

But as you stand there, the realization settles uncomfortably in your mind—tonight’s spell wasn’t enough. You’ve managed to blend in, to attract a few glances, but Hyunjin... Hyunjin’s attention is still scattered, still caught up in everything else but you. It stings more than you care to admit, watching him charm someone else so easily, so effortlessly, while you stand on the sidelines.

As he laughs with the girl, you take a sip of your drink, silently vowing that the next time, you’ll make sure he sees you. Because tonight’s spell isn’t enough— maybe it is for everyone else, but not for Hyunjin.

-

The nights have become your sacred time, and every evening, you follow the ritual laid out in the pages of the witchcraft book.

Standing naked beneath the pale moonlight, you let it bathe your skin, a soft glow that you imagine sinking deep into your pores. The night air is cool, crisp against your bare skin as you lift your hands to the sky, eyes closed, repeating the words that you’ve come to memorize.

"Moonlight, grant me your grace and beauty. Let my aura shine with endless clarity.

Let their eyes linger, their hearts bend. And in my light, their admiration send."

Each night, you let the moonlight cleanse you, as if it’s washing away any imperfections, any remnants of invisibility. The spell takes days to weave its magic, but you can feel it slowly starting to work.

Each morning, you add a new mantra to your routine, a chant whispered with the dawn, meant to wrap your aura in allure and desirability.

"With every step I take, they’ll see me.

With every breath I draw, they’ll want me.

Let their gaze never stray. Let my beauty lead the way."

The ritual is precise, meticulous, and you’re patient as you wait for the results. You don’t want Hyunjin’s attention in a fleeting way—you want it anchored to you, undeniable, a pull he can’t resist. It takes time, but you start to notice subtle changes. The lingering gazes in the hallway, the way people stop mid-conversation when you walk by. It’s working.

And then, one day, it happens.

You’re on your way down to the lobby after a long day when the elevator doors open, and Hyunjin steps in. For a moment, your heart skips a beat, but you compose yourself, standing straighter.

The doors close, and there’s a brief silence as the elevator descends.

“Hey,” Hyunjin says casually, leaning against the wall, his eyes flicking toward you. “How’s your day been?”

You glance at him, careful to keep your expression neutral, even as your pulse quickens. “Busy,” you reply. “But good. Yours?”

“Same,” he says with a shrug, his voice relaxed. “Meetings, deadlines, the usual stuff. But, you know, the week’s almost over.” He smiles slightly, and for a moment, his eyes linger on you in a way that feels... different. More attentive.

There’s a brief pause before he speaks again, his tone a little more playful this time. “Got any plans for Friday night?”

You feel your breath catch for a second, but you don’t let it show. Instead, you lie smoothly, “I actually have plans with someone else.”

The words come out easily, but you’re not sure why you feel the need to say it. Perhaps it’s a reflex, a way to gauge his reaction.

Hyunjin raises an eyebrow, but the easy smile doesn’t falter. “Is that so? Well, in case you change your mind,” he says, his tone almost teasing, “I’ll be at The Velvet Room with some friends. You know, just in case your plans... fall through.”

The elevator dings as it reaches the ground floor, and the doors slide open. Hyunjin steps out first, giving you one last glance over his shoulder.

“See you around,” he says with a wink, before disappearing into the crowd.

-

There’s something magnetic about the idea of seeing Hyunjin again in a different setting, where the rules of the office don’t apply.

You dress carefully, choosing an outfit that compliments the aura you’ve been building. The almanac suggests wearing silver tonight—another color of power, elegance, and mystique. You glance at your reflection, satisfied with the way the fabric drapes perfectly, enhancing the effect of the spell.

Before leaving, you whisper your mantra once again, letting the words sink in, fortifying your confidence. Then, with one last look in the mirror, you head out the door.

The Velvet Room buzzes with energy, the dim lights casting shadows over the crowd. Hyunjin’s gaze finds yours across the room, and a spark ignites between you, pulling him in your direction. His expression is unreadable, but there's something in the way his eyes hold yours—curiosity, maybe, or something deeper.

He strides toward you, his presence commanding attention as always. His fitted leather jacket hugs his frame perfectly, and the dark shirt underneath emphasizes the sharp lines of his jaw and collarbone.

When he reaches you, the smirk playing on his lips is familiar, but there's something softer behind it tonight.

“I see your plans changed after all,” he says, voice low enough that it sends a shiver down your spine.

“Guess they did,” you reply, keeping your tone light, though your heart races in your chest.

Hyunjin glances around the busy bar before leaning in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “I’ve got a private booth for us. Come with me.”

Without waiting for a response, he takes your hand and leads you through the throng of people, guiding you toward the back of the room. Once you reach the secluded booth, he holds the door open for you, and you step inside, the noise from the bar muffled as the door closes behind you.

Inside, the lighting is softer, more intimate. Hyunjin settles across from you, his long legs stretching out as he leans back comfortably. He orders drinks, and the tension between you crackles in the air, though neither of you addresses it right away.

“So,” he starts, his eyes glinting with mischief, “you’re enjoying your newfound peace at work now that I’ve stopped giving you a hard time?”

You raise an eyebrow at him, swirling the drink in your glass. “You think that’s the only reason I’m enjoying work more?”

Hyunjin chuckles softly, the sound rich and low. “Well, I can’t imagine it’s because of anything else. You’ve hated my guts since day one.”

He’s not wrong, and you don’t bother denying it. “You made it easy,” you reply, lips curving into a smirk of your own. “You were unbearable.”

His smile fades just a touch, replaced by something more genuine. “I’m trying to change that, you know. I owe you an apology for how I’ve been.”

You take a sip of your drink, watching him over the rim of your glass. “What brought this sudden change of heart?”

Hyunjin shrugs, but his gaze never leaves yours. “I don’t know. Maybe I got tired of being an asshole. Maybe it’s... you.”

His words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. The flirty banter melts into something more charged, more intimate. You lean forward, resting your elbows on the table as you meet his eyes head-on.

“So you’re saying I changed you?” you ask, your voice teasing, but your heart pounds at the truth behind your question.

Hyunjin’s lips curl into that familiar smirk again, but there’s a glint of warmth in his eyes. “Maybe you did.”

The silence stretches between you, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s thick with anticipation. Hyunjin’s fingers brush the rim of his glass before he sets it aside, leaning forward just enough that the space between you shrinks.

“You know,” he says softly, his voice dropping lower, “I’ve been thinking about this moment for a while now.”

Your pulse quickens, heat rising to your cheeks. “Oh? And what moment is that?”

“This,” he replies simply, before his hand reaches for yours, pulling you gently but firmly toward him.

You’re not sure who moves first, but suddenly, his lips are on yours. The kiss starts soft, exploratory, but it quickly deepens as you lean into him. His hand cups the back of your neck, drawing you closer, and before you know it, you’re sliding over the seat to sit next to him, his body pressed against yours.

The taste of him lingers on your lips—whiskey and something else, something uniquely Hyunjin. His fingers thread through your hair as he tilts your head, his kiss becoming more urgent, more intense. You kiss him back just as eagerly, the heat between you building with every touch, every movement. It’s like the entire room disappears, leaving just the two of you.

You gasp softly when his lips leave yours, trailing down to your jaw and neck. His breath is hot against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he murmurs against your neck.

The sound of his voice, low and full of desire, makes your heart race even faster. You pull him back to you, kissing him again with all the pent-up energy you’ve been holding back for so long. His hands grip your waist, pulling you even closer as you straddle his lap, completely lost in the moment.

Everything about him—his touch, his kiss, the way his body moves against yours—feels right. But beneath the surface, something darker stirs within you. The spell has worked, yes, but you realize with every kiss that it isn’t enough.

You want more. You want all of him—his attention, his devotion, his desire—all to yourself. This one night won’t be enough to satisfy you, not when you know you’re the one responsible for this change.

As the night continues and your lips meet his again and again, the thought solidifies in your mind: You need to make sure that Hyunjin’s lips to never touch another lips that aren't yours ever again.

-

The next morning, you walk into the office with a faint buzz of anticipation beneath your skin. After everything that happened at the bar last night—the way Hyunjin kissed you, the heat in his gaze, the way he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off you—you expect something to have shifted between the two of you. Something real, something palpable.

You almost smile when you spot him in the break room, leaning casually against the counter, stirring sugar into his coffee. You slow your steps, bracing yourself for the look you know will be there—the one that says he remembers too, that everything has changed.

But instead, Hyunjin glances up and gives you a polite nod. His expression is calm, his smile... friendly. Nothing more.

"Morning," he says, his tone casual, unaffected. “How’s the project going?”

For a moment, you blink, stunned. That’s it? After what happened last night? You quickly force a smile, swallowing down your disappointment.

“It’s coming along. I’m finalizing the report today.”

He nods, taking a sip of his coffee as if this is just another ordinary morning. “Good to hear. I’m sure it’ll turn out well.”

You stand there, waiting for something else—an acknowledgment, a shift in his body language, anything to show that last night meant something. But he just offers a small smile, glances at the clock, and says, “See you around.”

And just like that, he walks out of the break room, leaving you standing there, stunned.

Your chest tightens with frustration. Hyunjin didn’t seem affected at all. The fire from last night, the way he looked at you like he couldn’t get enough, is gone. He’s back to his composed, distant self, like nothing happened.

You take a shaky breath and grip your coffee cup tighter, watching his retreating figure. The casual indifference in his voice, the polite conversation—it stings. Last night was supposed to mean something, and yet here he is, treating it like a one-off, like you didn’t matter beyond a moment of fleeting desire.

As you head back to your desk, the disappointment festers, but with it comes a fierce determination. Hyunjin might think he can act like that night didn’t change anything, but you’ll make sure it does. You won’t let him act like it meant nothing, like you were just another woman to him.

No, you need to make him see you—and not just for a single night.

By the time you sit at your desk, your resolve hardens. If Hyunjin isn’t going to act differently on his own, you’ll make sure he has no choice. A love spell, intricate and powerful, is the solution. This time, you’ll bind him to you completely.

Tonight, the ritual begins.

-

A love spell is delicate work. It isn’t something to be taken lightly or done in haste. There are many factors that determine its strength and success: the moon cycle, the witch's own power, and, most crucially, the object of your desire. It’s said that to truly bind someone, you need a piece of them—something personal, a thread of their essence. Without it, the spell is only half as effective.

For days, you’ve studied the intricacies of this spell, knowing that one misstep could undo everything. Timing is everything, and with the full moon approaching, the energy in the air feels ripe for magic. You’ve been careful, waiting until the right moment to begin, gathering the necessary items—most importantly, a strand of Hyunjin’s hair.

That night at the bar, when he leaned in close, laughing and brushing against you, you slipped your fingers through his hair, pulling a single strand loose without him noticing. It’s a simple thing, but in the world of witchcraft, it’s enough to make the spell work.

Now, as you prepare for the ritual, that single strand of hair sits coiled in your palm, humming with potential. It’s the final piece that will tip the balance, allowing the magic to flow freely between you and him.

You know the risks—love spells are intricate, and once cast, they cannot easily be undone. But you've come too far to turn back now. Hyunjin is already slipping into your orbit, and tonight, you’ll pull him closer than ever before.

-

Friday – The Initiation

It’s late evening, and the moon is just beginning to wax toward its fullness. You’ve prepared the space carefully—candles of deep crimson and soft pinks flicker around you, casting a warm glow on your altar. In the center, you’ve laid out the key ingredients: a red silk ribbon, Hyunjin’s strand of hair, a piece of rose quartz, and a small vial of honey.

You open your spellbook and find the section on love magic, the words lighting up with power as the candlelight dances over the pages. The instructions are clear—the first night’s ritual is all about opening the path between you and Hyunjin, creating the initial connection that will draw him closer over the weekend.

You tie the red silk ribbon around the rose quartz, knotting it carefully as you whisper the incantation, feeling the magic pulse through your veins.

"With this knot, I begin the tie. From his heart, no love shall fly.

Sweet as honey, strong as flame. Our souls connect, he’ll know my name."

As you chant, you dip the rose quartz into the honey, sealing the first step of the spell. The air hums with energy, and you feel the beginnings of something shifting, like an invisible thread linking you to Hyunjin. The ritual is set in motion, and as you blow out the candles, you know the spell is now out there, working its magic.

-

Saturday – The Strengthening

The second night’s ritual takes place under the waxing gibbous moon, its bright light illuminating your workspace. Tonight, you focus on deepening the connection, strengthening the bond you’ve initiated with Hyunjin. The spell is more intricate, requiring both your intent and personal sacrifice.

You sit before your altar, this time with a red candle burning beside you. The strand of Hyunjin's hair is placed in a silver dish, and next to it, you’ve prepared strands of your own hair and a tiny drop of your own blood—just enough to infuse the spell with your life force.

The spellbook lies open in front of you as you softly chant the next part of the incantation:

"With each strand and drop I give. By his side, I shall live.

Mind to mind, heart to heart. From this bond, we shall not part."

You burn the strand in the dish, the smoke curling upward in a thin trail. The smell is faint but potent, a mix of sweet and bitter that lingers in the air. You watch it rise, and for a moment, you picture Hyunjin—his face, his smile, the way his eyes sparkled when he looked at you at the bar. You know the spell is working; you can feel it building, layer by layer.

When the last of the hair has turned to ash, you sprinkle the strands of hair and a drop of your blood into the ashes, sealing the second part of the ritual. You chant softly, sealing your words into the night.

"Bound by flesh, bound by will. He shall seek me, strong and still.

By the gibbous moon’s bright glow. Love between us shall now grow."

The flames flicker, then extinguish, and you’re left in the stillness of the night, the magic of the second ritual now deep inside you.

-

Sunday – The Final Binding

It’s the night of the full moon, and its silver light bathes the room in a soft, ethereal glow. This is the night the spell will be completed—the most powerful moment, when the moon is at its peak, and all the energy you’ve built over the last two days can finally come together.

You sit outside this time, under the open sky. The spell requires the presence of the full moon, and you’ve gathered the final ingredients—rose petals, lavender, and a small mirror. The rose quartz, still tied with the red ribbon, rests in your lap as you prepare to chant the final spell.

This is the binding part of the ritual, where the connection you’ve created will be sealed, turning Hyunjin’s heart fully toward you.

With the mirror in one hand and the rose quartz in the other, you begin to chant, your voice rising and falling with the rhythm of the moon’s energy.

"By the moon, full and bright. I call upon the power of night.

Mirror of love, reflect his gaze. Draw him near, let passion blaze."

You place the rose petals and lavender into a small bowl, then gently pour water over them. The fragrance fills the air, soft and heady. You dip the mirror into the water, watching as the moon’s reflection shimmers on its surface.

"By this reflection, he shall see. That his heart belongs to me.

No other path, no other way. His love for me will never stray."

You breathe in deeply, feeling the magic swirl around you. The power is undeniable, a force that wraps around your body, pressing in from all sides. You finish the chant, your words barely more than a whisper now.

"Under this moon, my spell takes flight. Bound by love, bound by night.

His heart is mine, this spell is cast. And so our bond shall forever last."

As the final words leave your lips, you press the rose quartz to your heart and hold the mirror up to the full moon. The energy pulses through you, a warm glow that spreads from your chest to the tips of your fingers. You feel it—something has clicked into place, the spell complete.

The night is still, but you know that soon, the magic will have taken hold. Hyunjin will be yours in every way—his heart, his soul, his desire.

And with the moon as your witness, the bond is sealed.

-

Days pass, and the anticipation grows unbearable. You’ve done everything right.

The rituals were precise, the moon was full, and Hyunjin’s hair—the final ingredient—was woven into the spell. But still, no sign. No shift in his behavior. He continues to walk past you in the office with nothing more than a fleeting glance, his attention drifting elsewhere. Doubts start to creep in, and the quiet whispers of failure haunt you.

Did the spell not take? you wonder, replaying every step in your mind.

Then, one evening, when you’re heading to the elevator after work, something shifts.

The air feels thick with tension as you step into the packed elevator. Hyunjin is there, standing toward the back. His presence is palpable, and though the two of you can’t speak with so many people crammed in yet you can feel his gaze burning into the side of your face. Your heart races, but you keep your eyes forward, waiting for something—anything—to happen.

The elevator dings as it reaches the parking basement, and the crowd begins to disperse. You part ways, heading to your car, dismissing the weight of his stare as nothing more than your imagination. You unlock the car, not noticing the quiet footsteps approaching from behind—until a strong hand wraps around your arm and pulls you back.

It’s Hyunjin.

Suddenly, he's spinning you around and pulling you close. His breath is warm against your cheek as he leans in, his voice low and breathless.

“I can't stop thinking about you,” he confesses, his fingers gripping your waist. “All night. You’re all I think about.”

Before you can process his words, his lips are on yours, soft and insistent. The dimly lit, empty parking basement fades away as the intensity of the kiss consumes you both. His hands slide to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

This—this—is the moment you’ve been waiting for. The spell has worked. Hyunjin is yours.

-

The drive to your place feels like an eternity, the tension between you and Hyunjin palpable in the air. His hand rests on your thigh, fingers lightly tracing patterns over your skin, sending sparks through you.

The moment you step inside your apartment, he’s on you, pushing you against the wall, his lips crashing into yours with a hunger that leaves you breathless. His hands slide under your clothes, gripping your waist, pulling you flush against him as his body presses you into the wall.

The heat between you is undeniable, electric, and you can feel how much he wants you—his lips devouring yours, his hands exploring your body with a possessiveness that makes your heart race.

You stumble toward the bedroom, leaving a trail of discarded clothes in your wake. Hyunjin’s shirt is the first to go, revealing the toned muscles of his chest, the lean lines of his body that you’ve only ever admired from a distance. But now, he’s right here, inches from you, and the sight of him sends a thrill through you. You take a moment to drink him in—his sharp jawline, his tousled hair, the way his dark eyes are filled with nothing but want as he looks at you.

His lips crash against yours again as you fall onto the bed, his body covering yours, his weight a welcome sensation. He’s everywhere—his mouth trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, his hands slipping beneath the waistband of your pants, fingers brushing over your skin.

“You’re driving me insane,” he mutters against your neck, his voice low and breathless.

His hands slide lower, tugging at the last of your clothing, and soon you’re bare beneath him, his hands exploring every inch of you as if he can’t get enough.

When he finally sinks into you, the world tilts. It’s overwhelming, the feeling of him inside you, his body moving in perfect rhythm with yours. The way he fills you, the sounds of his breathless moans in your ear, the way he grips your hips as he moves—it’s like everything else fades away, and there’s only this. Only him.

The intensity builds, every touch, every movement pushing you closer to the edge. Hyunjin’s thrusts become more urgent, his breathing ragged, and the sensation of him driving deeper, faster, is almost too much. But it’s exactly what you want—what you need. Your nails dig into his back, pulling him closer, and he groans at the contact, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss.

When you both finally reach your peak, your body trembles beneath him, and he collapses beside you, his chest heaving, his skin slick with sweat. You lie there, tangled together in the aftermath, your heart pounding, the reality of what just happened sinking in.

Hyunjin lies beside you, his arm draped lazily over your waist, his breath evening out as he recovers. His dark hair is tousled, his lips slightly swollen from kissing, and even in the dim light, his beauty is undeniable. He looks utterly spent but content, and the sight of him like this—bare, vulnerable, entirely yours—sends a wave of satisfaction through you.

You did this. You made this happen. The spell worked, and Hyunjin is yours, completely under your control. The success of the spell isn’t just about having him—it’s about the power you now wield, the realization that your magic is stronger than ever before.

-

The next morning, the sunlight filters softly through your bedroom curtains, casting a warm glow over Hyunjin’s sleeping form. He’s lying on his side, his chest rising and falling steadily with each breath, his lips slightly parted.

You watch him in quiet admiration, the sight of him peaceful and undisturbed, completely under your spell. It’s still hard to believe that this is real, that he’s lying here in your bed after everything. The love spell worked. He’s yours.

You study the soft angles of his face, the way his hair falls over his forehead, the sharp line of his jaw that only makes him look more ethereal in the morning light. You feel a deep satisfaction wash over you, the realization that everything is falling into place, just as you wanted.

It’s almost amusing, really—this version of Hyunjin, so different from the arrogant, condescending man he once was, is now wrapped around your finger.

Suddenly, his eyes flutter open, catching you in the act of watching him. A small, sleepy smile tugs at the corners of his lips as his gaze meets yours.

“Were you watching me sleep?” he asks, his voice groggy but playful.

You smile back, shrugging a little. “Maybe.”

Hyunjin chuckles softly, stretching out beside you as he rubs the sleep from his eyes. “You’re sneaky, you know that?”

“I’m just admiring the view,” you reply, your voice teasing but laced with the truth.

There’s no hiding how pleased you are with the way things have turned out. “What do you want for breakfast?”

Before he answers, Hyunjin leans over, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, his hand brushing lightly against your cheek. It’s slow and sweet, making your heart skip a beat. His tenderness is addictive.

“Surprise me,” he whispers when he pulls back, his lips hovering just above yours.

You grin, feeling a rush of triumph in the way he looks at you, the way he kisses you, the way he’s completely under your control now.

As you slip out of bed, you can’t help but feel victorious, knowing that Hyunjin—this beautiful, captivating man—is yours in every way that matters.

As you head toward the kitchen to prepare breakfast, there’s a sense of power that settles in your chest. The spell didn’t just make him fall for you—it made you stronger, more certain. You have him wrapped around your finger now, and the world feels yours for the taking.

-

The days after the spell pass like a dream, Hyunjin’s affection wrapping around you in ways you never thought possible. Every glance, every touch feels like a victory—you’ve made him yours, completely.

In the office, the familiar hum of busy workers fills the air as you make your way down the hallway toward Mr. Campbell’s office.

Hyunjin walks just a few paces ahead of you, his posture relaxed but confident. There’s an air of professionalism in him, but now that you know what he’s like when it’s just the two of you, you can’t help but feel a tinge of excitement bubbling under the surface.

As you step into Mr. Campbell’s office, you’re greeted by the familiar sternness in his voice.

"I’ve decided to assign you two to work on separate plans for the company's upcoming project," he says, his eyes shifting between you and Hyunjin.

"You'll both prepare your own proposals, and at the presentation, whoever gets the most favor from the board will earn the vacant position. This is your chance to prove yourselves."

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of the position—the one you’ve been quietly eyeing ever since you started here. Hyunjin, beside you, remains calm, but you can feel the weight of his presence more than ever. As Mr. Campbell dismisses the two of you, you exchange a glance with Hyunjin before leaving the office.

Once you’re out in the hallway, Hyunjin subtly grabs your wrist, pulling you toward the supply closet. You blink in surprise but follow without protest, knowing full well what he’s planning.

The door barely clicks shut before his lips are on yours, urgent but playful. His hands slide around your waist, pulling you flush against him, and for a moment, everything outside of this small, dim room fades away.

“I know we’re competing for this,” Hyunjin murmurs against your lips, his voice soft with an edge of amusement, “but good luck.”

His tone is teasing, but there’s sincerity there too. He breaks the kiss just long enough to meet your gaze, his dark eyes gleaming. "May the best one win."

You smirk, your hand resting on his chest as you catch your breath.

“Good luck to you, too,” you reply, your voice smooth but laced with challenge. “I can’t wait to see how things turn out.”

Hyunjin grins, his fingers brushing your cheek lightly. “Neither can I.”

There’s a flicker of something deeper in his gaze—excitement, maybe, or anticipation. You lean in, giving him a quick but lingering kiss, letting the tension between you hum in the air.

The thrill of the upcoming competition mixes with the attraction that has only grown between you. He pulls back with a chuckle, running his thumb over your lower lip.

“You’re not making this easy for me, you know that?”

You shrug, a playful glint in your eyes. “I wouldn’t be me if I did.”

The kiss lingers for a few more seconds before Hyunjin finally steps back, his hand grazing your arm as he reaches for the door.

“Let’s make this interesting,” he says, his voice low, almost daring. “See you on the battlefield.”

With one last mischievous smile, he exits, leaving you alone in the closet with your heart racing and a fierce determination bubbling up inside.

There’s no denying that you’re both in this, but the added tension of the competition only fuels your desire to come out on top—both in work and with Hyunjin.

-

As the presentation for the vacant position approaches, an unsettling feeling lingers at the back of your mind. You watch Hyunjin, wondering if the man who once rivaled you so fiercely would really let things go this easily without the spell.

One afternoon, you’re in your office, going over your project when Hyunjin leans back in his chair, his gaze soft as it drifts over you. You’re explaining your ideas, expecting his usual critique, when he interrupts with a grin.

“You’re going to win,” he says, sounding almost too sure.

You pause, looking up from your notes. “What?”

“Your presentation is going to be the best. I mean, come on, you’re brilliant,” he says, his voice full of admiration, not competition.

“Honestly, I’ve been thinking... maybe I’ll just back down.” he shares out of the blue.

Your heart stumbles. “Back down?”

He nods, that lazy smile still on his face. “Yeah, I don’t need the promotion. Not if it means competing with you. I’d rather see you succeed. We’re... together now. What’s the point in fighting over this?”

His words hit you like a cold splash of water. Back down? Hyunjin, who once lived for the competition, who thrived on the challenge, was now willing to give up everything. Because of the spell. Because you’d made him love you so much that he’d throw away his ambitions.

For a moment, you can’t breathe. This wasn’t love—it was devotion you’d forced on him. You took his drive, his edge, the parts of him that made you want to beat him in the first place.

You try to steady yourself and begin speaking. “Hyunjin, you’ve worked hard for this too. You deserve the promotion as much as I do.”

But he shakes his head, taking your hand in his. “I don’t need it anymore. I have you.”

That simple statement—it should make you feel victorious, but instead, it twists something inside you. The spell worked too well. He isn’t competing, isn’t challenging you like before. He’s so devoted, so wrapped up in his feelings that he’s willing to throw away everything he’s worked for.

“I—” you start, but the words die on your lips.

His thumb brushes softly over your knuckles. “What’s wrong?”

You force a smile, trying to mask the turmoil brewing beneath the surface. “Nothing. I’m just... surprised.”

He lets it go, the conversation shifting back to work, but you can’t focus. You nod along, pretending to listen, but inside, your thoughts are miles away.

Later, when he gets up to leave, his words cling to you like a shadow.

“I know I’m supposed to try, but... seeing you happy is more important to me than anything else.”

The door closes behind him, and you sink into your chair, staring at the space he left behind. You wanted this—his love, his devotion, his attention. You got exactly what you asked for. But now, seeing him like this, so willing to give up everything, the weight of your actions crashes down on you.

You press your fingers to your lips, replaying his words over and over. This isn’t the Hyunjin you admired, the one who challenged you at every turn. You’ve changed him, twisted him into something else—something that doesn’t feel real anymore.

Your chest tightens with regret. The spell had worked, yes, but at what cost?

-

It’s Halloween, and you're rifling through your book of spells, desperately searching for something that can help undo the spells you’ve cast on Hyunjin—or at least diminish their effects. With each page you turn, your frustration grows as you find no answers to ease your dread.

After a long, grueling hour, you finally stumble upon a spell that could remove the enchantment entirely. But something this powerful demands a greater sacrifice. You hesitate, unsure why you even considered it in the first place. Shaking your head, you continue flipping through the pages, anxiety building.

The doorbell rings, snapping you from your thoughts. You assume it’s more trick-or-treaters; the kids in the apartment building have been coming by all night, eagerly asking for candy. Sighing, you close the book and head to the door, grabbing the basket of sweets on your way.

But instead of children in costumes, you find Hyunjin standing there, dressed in a white shirt and dark slacks, his long dark hair brushed back except for a strand falling over his forehead.

"Trick or treat!" he says with a charming smile, holding up a bag of food and a bottle of wine.

"What are you dressed as?" you ask with a playful smile.

"As… your beautiful boyfriend?" he replies, tilting his head with a hint of doubt, but the adorable expression makes your heart flutter.

For a moment, you feel warm—like the only thing that matters is how he looks at you. But then reality crashes in. None of this is genuine. It's all because of your spell.

"So, are you going to let me in?" Hyunjin asks, leaning casually against the doorframe.

"Yeah, sure." You step aside, allowing him to enter.

As soon as the door closes, his hands are free, and he pulls you into a tight embrace. His lips brush over yours before he kisses you deeply, sweetly, as if savoring the moment. You kiss him back, letting his warmth momentarily ease the guilt gnawing at you.

"I missed you," Hyunjin sighs, sounding relieved as if his words release all the pain inside him.

"Missed you too," you reply, your voice lacking the same enthusiasm, though he doesn’t seem to notice.

He kisses you again, deeper this time, pulling you closer until there’s no space between you. But something feels off.

Even as he holds you, the weight of the situation hangs heavily over you. You break the kiss, offering a small smile as you say. "I'll get the food ready."

As you unpack the food on the kitchen counter, Hyunjin watches you from the dining table, his eyes tracking your every move like you’re the most fascinating thing in the world.

"Can you help with the wine?" you ask, pulling him from his reverie.

He snaps to attention, grabbing the wine opener and rolling up his sleeves. He opens the bottle with care, pouring the wine into two glasses you’ve set on the table.

"Cheers," he says, raising his glass.

"Cheers." You clink glasses, the sound ringing softly as you both take a sip.

"I hope you like the food," he says, glancing nervously at your plate. "If not, we can order something else."

"No, it’s perfect. I love pasta," you reassure him, taking a bite.

He smiles, watching you eat without touching his own plate until you urge him to start. The doorbell rings again, this time unmistakably trick-or-treaters. You excuse yourself, handing out sweets to the kids at the door before returning to the table.

"How’s your project going?" you ask, trying to keep the conversation light despite the growing heaviness in your chest.

"It’s going well," he replies, though the hesitation in his voice makes you doubt him. "I was working on it earlier."

"That’s good. We promised to make it interesting, right?"

"Yeah, of course," he says, poking at his food absentmindedly.

After dinner, you clear the plates, heading to the sink to wash up while Hyunjin refills your wine glasses. But he’s not content with just that. Soon, he’s behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and placing kisses on your neck.

"You can do it later," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin, making it hard for you to focus.

"It won’t take long," you insist, his arms still holding you as you rinse the last dish.

Another knock at the door pulls you from his grasp, and you give out more candy before Hyunjin takes the basket from you, placing it outside and locking the door. He then turns back to you with a sly grin plastered on his face.

"From now on, no more tricks, only treats," he says, his smile mischievous.

Before you can respond, he lifts you effortlessly, carrying you to the bedroom. He sets you down gently, making sure your head lands perfectly on the pillow. Hovering over you, he traces your features with his fingers, admiration shining in his eyes.

"You’re so beautiful," he murmurs, almost in disbelief.

"Hyunjin..." you whisper, overwhelmed by the way he looks at you.

"I love the way you call my name," he says softly, kissing you deeply before trailing his lips down your jawline.

He then buries his head in your neck and inhales your scent as if he breathes in air for the first time in a while, "Gosh... you smell heavenly."

Once the clothes are off, Hyunjin begins making a trail of kisses down your front and for each kiss he plants, he gives you a sweet compliment as if you weren't high already from the way his soft lips leaving searing kisses on your skin.

He only stops when he gets to where you want him the most and he gives you just exactly what you need, his tongue lapping at your wetness as his fingers lightly stroke on your clit. He licks, he sucks, he's using his mouth to its fullest potential to give you the utmost of pleasure.

Hyunjin’s dark locks are caught between your fingers and you tug at it when the pleasure gets too much, your eyes fluttering open and your legs wanting to keep closing but Hyunjin’s strong arms are steadily keeping them open.

He's doing it too well that you cum in no time, your essence gets all over his mouth and chin, and you don’t hesitate to kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips.

Hyunjin moves like water as he thrusts into you, painstakingly slow as to make you feel every drag of his cock against your walls and going as shallow as possible, hitting you just right on the spot.

"Oh, you feel so good," he murmurs, his voice is rough, full of need and heavy with lust.

Low groans are spilling out of his parted mouth as he tries to draw it out, wanting to make this moment last as long as possible.

"So good," he murmurs again with haste kiss on your lips.

His hand gropes around for yours and when he finds it, he laces them together. "I want to stay in this moment with you, forever."

But as things escalate, the overwhelming guilt creeps back in. Every touch, every kiss feels tainted, knowing his affection is not real. Your chest tightens, and suddenly, you can’t hold it in anymore. Tears spill from your eyes as you turn your head away, trying to hide your face from him.

"Hey, what’s wrong?" Hyunjin stops, his voice full of concern. "Did I hurt you?"

You shake your head, unable to speak past the lump in your throat.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asks gently, placing a comforting kiss on your cheek.

"No," you manage to whisper. "Please… don’t stop."

He continues, but his movements are slower, more careful, as if afraid of breaking you. His eyes never leave yours, and the tenderness in his gaze makes you feel even smaller, exposed so you close your eyes, afraid that he would eventually sees the real you, how vicious and cruel you are underneath.

As he reaches his high, he collapses onto the bed beside you, his breathing ragged. He pulls you close, his head resting in the crook of your neck as he whispers sweet, loving words while you stare at the ceiling with the guilt suffocating you as you hold him in your arm.

"What have I done?" you mutter, the words escaping before you can stop them.

Hyunjin, thinking you’re speaking to him, lifts his head and smiles softly. "You made me fall in love."

If only that were true. If only it came from his heart. If only... it was all real.

-

The boardroom is filled with the quiet rustle of papers and the soft hum of anticipation.

The meeting has been tense, as expected, with everyone vying to impress. You sit, posture rigid, as you finish your presentation. Applause erupts, polite yet enthusiastic, and you nod, acknowledging it with a tight smile. The project was good, better than good, and judging by the reaction, everyone knew it.

Now it’s Hyunjin’s turn. You subtly glance over at him from your seat, your pulse quickening, but instead of preparing himself, he seems strangely detached. His eyes skim the room, hands resting loosely by his sides, as though this moment doesn’t matter to him.

He steps up to present, but from the first few words, it’s obvious—he’s not even trying. His voice lacks the fire, the drive that’s been his signature since day one. You feel your stomach twist as you realize he’s practically handing you the win.

Hyunjin wraps up his presentation, which gets polite applause, but it’s nowhere near the fervor yours received. Your chest tightens with frustration. He didn’t try. Not even close.

The meeting adjourns, and you slip out quickly, not wanting to be near him.

The weight of what’s happening presses heavily on you as you stand in the crowded elevator, the quiet hum of conversation filling the space. Hyunjin is standing somewhere behind you, but you refuse to look at him. You can feel his presence, but the air between you is suffocating, thick with the unspoken words.

Once you step out into the parking lot, you walk briskly, desperate to get away. But Hyunjin catches up, his footsteps hurried.

"Wait!" he calls after you, his voice strained with urgency.

You stop, the anger bubbling inside of you, and spin to face him. "Why did you do that?"

He runs a hand through his hair, looking torn. "Please, just—let’s talk. In the car."

You hesitate but ultimately nod, leading the way to your car. Once inside, the silence between you feels unbearable.

"You promised," you start, your voice shaking with anger. "We promised we’d make it a fair competition, that we’d both try our best."

Hyunjin leans back in the seat, his eyes dark with regret. "I know."

"Then why?" you demand, the frustration boiling over. "Why did you just give up? You weren’t even trying, Hyunjin!"

He lets out a shaky breath and looks at you, his gaze soft and full of something that makes your heart ache. "Because I love you."

His words hit you like a punch to the chest. You stare at him, unable to process it at first. Love. The very thing you’d manipulated him into feeling.

Tears well up in your eyes before you can stop them, the guilt crashing over you like a wave.

"No," you whisper, shaking your head. "You don’t love me. Not really. This isn’t real."

Hyunjin reaches out, gently taking your hand. "It feels real to me," he says softly. "You matter more to me than any project, more than any competition. I couldn’t fight against you."

Your tears spill over, and suddenly you’re sobbing, the weight of everything—the spells, the manipulation, the guilt—overwhelming you.

"I’m sorry," you cry, your voice barely above a whisper. "I’m so, so sorry."

Hyunjin pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly, not understanding why you’re apologizing but sensing your pain. You collapse against him, your body shaking with sobs.

If only he knew the truth. If only he knew what you had done to him. But you can’t bring yourself to say it. Not now.

-

A few days later, you sit in the office chair across from Mr. Campbell, his usual stern expression softening as he reads from the paper in front of him. His words feel distant, almost muffled, like you’re underwater.

"It’s official," he says with a pleased nod. "You’ve earned the promotion. Your project was outstanding. Congratulations."

You force a smile, but the corners of your mouth barely lift. You knew this was coming—Hyunjin’s lackluster presentation made it inevitable.

This was the result you had planned for, worked for, even cast spells for. But now, sitting here, hearing the words you thought would bring you triumph, there’s nothing. No thrill, no victory, just an empty ache in your chest.

"Thank you," you manage to say, voice hollow.

He stands, extending his hand, and you shake it, knowing you should feel proud, but the weight in your stomach pulls you down.

You leave his office, your steps heavy as you wander through the hallways, trying to find some corner to breathe, to process everything.

You duck into a supply closet, the small, dim space feeling like a sanctuary where no one can find you. Leaning against the shelves, you close your eyes, letting out a shaky breath.

It wasn’t supposed to feel like this. This promotion was supposed to be your moment. But how could it be, when Hyunjin didn’t even try? It’s not a win if the competition never showed up.

A few moments later, you hear the faint sound of footsteps approaching. The door creaks open, and there he is—Hyunjin, his tall frame taking up most of the doorway. He steps inside, closing the door behind him.

"There you are," he says softly, his eyes searching your face. "I’ve been looking for you."

You look away, unable to meet his gaze. "Why?"

He steps closer, his presence warm and overwhelming in the cramped space. "I wanted to congratulate you. You won."

His words make something inside you twist painfully. The way he says it so gently, without any resentment or bitterness, just makes it worse. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you shake your head.

"I didn’t win," you whisper, voice cracking. "Not really."

Hyunjin frowns, his hand coming up to gently cup your cheek, turning your face toward him. "Of course you did. You earned it."

You let out a bitter laugh, the tears spilling over. "No, I didn’t. You gave up. You didn’t even try, Hyunjin. This doesn’t feel like a win."

You pull away slightly, looking up at him, your heart aching with regret and guilt. "I’m sorry for everything."

Hyunjin frowns, his thumb brushing away a tear from your cheek. "You don’t have to be sorry for anything."

He pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly, and you sink into him, feeling the warmth of his embrace. His lips brush against your forehead, soft and tender, before he leans down to kiss you—gently, lovingly. It’s a kiss that feels like a promise, like something real, something that could have been.

Except that it’s not real. It can never be real, not with everything you’ve done.

You pull back, looking into his eyes, your mind already spinning with the plan for tonight. This—right here—would be the last time you'd see him without the weight of what’s to come. Your victory was secured, but the price hadn’t been paid. Not yet.

"Let’s have dinner at my place tonight," you say, trying to steady your voice, pretending like everything is normal. "To celebrate the promotion."

His lips curl into a small smile, his thumb caressing your cheek. "I'd like that," he says softly.

You smile back, though it feels hollow. You hold onto this moment for a second longer, knowing it’s one of the last peaceful ones you’ll share with him. Then, with a shaky breath, you step out of his embrace.

"I’ll see you tonight," you whisper, and without another glance, you slip out of the supply closet.

Hyunjin stays behind as you walk away, his warmth still lingering against your skin. Each step feels heavier, like the weight of your decision is pressing down on you, pulling you further into the realization of what comes next. You stop just before the corner, stealing a glance over your shoulder, watching him for a second longer.

The knot in your stomach tightens again, but you remind yourself—this is the only way. It has to be.

With a deep breath, you turn back and keep walking. There's no turning back now.

-

Later that night, you stand at the door of your apartment, heart pounding softly as you wait for him to arrive. When you hear the soft knock, you open the door, and there he is—Hyunjin, smiling with that familiar warmth, the smile you once fell for.

“Hey,” he says softly, stepping inside, his eyes sweeping over the cozy setup. The small table is adorned with candles, casting a soft golden glow over the room. “This looks amazing.”

You smile, your heart heavy but steady. “I wanted tonight to be special.”

The evening starts gently—laughter, conversation, little touches that feel like ghosts of a past you thought you wanted. But you let yourself lean into it, let yourself love him for what feels like the last time.

At one point, you find yourselves on the sofa, wine glasses resting on the table, the closeness between you too familiar, too easy. His hand brushes your cheek, and you don’t stop him as his lips meet yours. The kiss deepens, turning into a slow, tender makeout session. His touch, warm and inviting, is like a spell all its own. But as you kiss him, an ache builds in your chest, the weight of everything you know you’ll do.

You pull away slightly, breathless, your hands still resting on his chest. His eyes search yours, a soft confusion lingering in them. You can’t help but ask, the words escaping before you can stop them.

"Hyunjin?" You softly call.

"Yes?"

“If… if we hadn’t met, do you think you’d still be happy?”

Hyunjin frowns slightly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “What are you talking about?”

“I mean, if I wasn’t… me. If you didn’t know me. Would you still have… loved me?” Your voice falters on the last word, the question hanging between you like a weight.

He pauses, eyes searching yours, his fingers tracing small circles on your skin. “I would. I’d find you, no matter what. In any life, in any world. I would always love you.”

His answer, so simple and sincere, breaks something inside you. You close your eyes, feeling the tears sting at the edges, but you don’t let them fall. Instead, you kiss him again, harder this time, trying to chase away the sadness, trying to pretend for a moment that things could be different. But the more he holds you, the more his words echo in your mind, the more certain you become. He loves you, yes. But this love can’t last. Not like this.

When you finally pull away, the weight of what you need to do presses down on you with full force. This is the only way. Later, as the candles flicker lower, you rise from the sofa and head to the table.

“I'll get us more wine,” you say softly, your voice steady despite the storm inside you.

Hyunjin watches you with a warm smile as you pour the wine. Your heart pounds as your finger dips into the crimson-colored wine and then trails the rim of his glass with it while murmuring the words, barely audible, but enough to seal his fate.

"From fire to ash, from light to dust. What once was mine, returns to rust.

Love undone, his heart unbound. In silence and shadow, let him drown.

By the touch of this glass, let his fate align. Power to me, as his stars decline."

You hand him the glass, your heart breaking as you do. He brings it to his lips, taking a sip, unaware of what you’ve just done. Unaware of how much this hurts you.

For tonight, you let yourself pretend. You let yourself love him, just one last time. And as he drinks, you whisper the silent goodbye you know he’ll never hear, pressing your lips to his once more with a love you wish he’d always remember, even as he forgets.

In your heart, you say it, soft and final: Goodbye, Hyunjin.

-

The day feels colder, even though the weather hasn't changed. As you walk into the office, something feels off, a gnawing sensation in the pit of your stomach. Your eyes scan the room for Hyunjin, wondering if the spell had worked yet.

And then, you spot him. He’s standing with a group of colleagues, but as he catches sight of you, the warmth you’ve come to know over the past few weeks vanishes entirely. His gaze is sharp, carrying the same icy disdain that had once been so familiar. The same bitterness, and none of the love.

As you make your way across the office, he steps toward you, shoulders tense, his eyes narrowing. You brace yourself, hoping for even a flicker of the softness he once held in his gaze, but instead, his shoulder brushes yours—cold and dismissive. You pause, your stomach twisting as he turns to you with a sneer.

“Must feel nice,” he says, his voice dripping with contempt. “Getting everything handed to you without actually earning it.”

The words slice through you like a knife. You pause for a second, trying to keep your composure, feeling the weight of every decision that brought you to this point. The guilt of what you’ve done, the emptiness where your power once hummed, and now this—Hyunjin, reduced back to the man who hated you.

You take a deep breath, swallowing the lump in your throat, forcing yourself to stay calm. “I worked hard for it, Hyunjin,” you manage to say, though your voice is shaky.

His laugh is cold, mocking, and it makes you wince. “Sure you did,” he mutters, turning back to his computer, dismissing you as if you’re nothing.

You stand there, frozen for a second, biting the inside of your cheek to keep the tears at bay. His words shouldn’t hurt you, not after everything that’s happened, but they do. They hurt more than you expected. All those moments you shared, all those fleeting smiles and touches, are gone, erased by the spell.

The real Hyunjin is back. The rude, brash, and hostile Hyunjin who sees you as nothing more than a rival. A stranger. You glance at him once more, hoping to catch a flicker of the person he was during those brief moments when he loved you, but there’s nothing. Just a void where that connection used to be.

The worst part is, you can’t even blame him. You brought this on yourself.

You walk to your new office with your name gleaming on the plate on the desk. You sink into your chair, trying to keep your emotions under control. But your hands tremble slightly as they rest on the desk, the weight of everything pressing down on your chest. You feel something hollow deep inside you.

It’s not just Hyunjin’s attitude that’s changed. You try to summon the familiar flicker of magic, the power you’ve relied on for so long, but there’s nothing. Like trying to grasp smoke, it’s gone. The power you sacrificed him for… It’s drained from you, leaving only an emptiness in its place.

You glance up at Hyunjin from across the room. He’s engrossed in his work, not sparing you another glance. And that’s when you realize just how much you’ve lost—not just him, not just your power, but the chance to ever fix this. The person he was, the one who loved you, is gone.

And in the end, no one’s won. Not you, and certainly not him.

-

You sit at the head of the table, watching the meeting unfold. The conversations swirl around you, voices clashing, egos on display. You’re the new boss, the one they’re all eager to impress or undermine. They don’t know what you’ve sacrificed to get here. They don’t know the real cost of power.

But you do.

As you listen, you catch yourself slipping into the familiar rhythm. You chant silently, almost instinctively, the words that once fueled your magic: "With fire in my veins and steel in my spine. Today the world bends, and all power is mine."

The words used to ignite something inside you, a force, a certainty. Now, they echo hollow in your mind. The magic is gone, drained from you in exchange for this.

Still, you repeat the mantra, knowing it’s all you have left. The magic may be lost, but the confidence—the belief in your own strength—isn’t. And that’s the closest thing you have to power now. The confidence that no one in this room sees the struggle beneath your polished exterior. They don’t know how much you’ve given up to sit in this chair, and they never will.

The meeting drones on. Hyunjin’s face flashes in your mind, his cold words still fresh, the way he dismissed your promotion as if it meant nothing. You bite the inside of your cheek, swallowing the pain, refusing to let the tears well up. You won this, but it doesn't feel like triumph. It feels like surviving.

And that’s what you’ll keep doing. Surviving.

The mantra repeats in your head, growing louder, stronger: "With fire in my veins and steel in my spine." It’s not magic, but it’s enough. Enough to remind you who you are. You nod and smile through the meeting, play the role they expect of you.

The meeting ends, and you gather your things, moving toward the elevator. As the doors slide open, you freeze for a moment—Hyunjin is already inside. He stands there, tall and sharp as ever, but he's not alone. A girl is nestled next to him, laughing softly at something he says. The warmth between them is unmistakable.

You step in, feeling your stomach churn as the doors close behind you. The air feels suffocating in the small space, and you keep your eyes on the floor, biting back the flood of emotions rising in your chest. Hyunjin doesn’t even glance your way. He’s too busy murmuring something to her, his hand casually brushing her arm. The same way he used to touch you.

The elevator hums as it descends, the seconds stretching out painfully. The girl giggles again, and you can’t help but catch a glimpse of them in the reflection. Hyunjin looks like his old self—rude, brash, completely unaffected. There’s no trace of the man who had once loved you, who had held you close.

The spell has worked, stripping away everything that had made him care about you. You bite down harder on the inside of your cheek, willing yourself not to break in front of them. Not here. Not now.

The elevator dings, the doors opening to the parking basement. Hyunjin steps out first, his arm wrapped around the girl’s waist, and you follow silently, keeping your distance.

There’s a brief moment where you lock eyes—just for a second. But it’s enough to tell you that the connection is gone. Whatever existed between the two of you has disappeared, erased by the spell.

Hyunjin walks away, not even a glance back. And this time, you feel it deep inside—this is truly the end. You watch them leave, feeling profoundly empty, more alone than ever. The victory you once sought now feels hollow, a reminder of what you sacrificed to get here.

You take a deep breath, trying to shake the sadness as you walk toward your car. But the feeling lingers, heavy and unshakable. There’s no magic to fix this. There’s no spell that can bring back what you’ve lost. You tell yourself it’s what had to be done, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

For the first time, the thought crosses your mind—was it really worth it?

You close your eyes, letting the wind brush over your face, and whisper to yourself one last time: "With fire in my veins and steel in my spine, today the world bends, and all power is mine."

This is only the beginning, you remind yourself. There will be more people like Hyunjin, more obstacles, more power to chase. You glance at your hands, no longer tingling with the hum of magic, but steady with a new kind of strength.

For now, you’ll rely on yourself. And soon, when the time is right, the world will bend again.

-

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[permanentlyfemale]

⚠️ Feminization, Misgendering, Forced detrans kink ahead! ⚠️

Today is a scary day for you. As a trans man, finding the right therapist is far more difficult than it is for most people, especially as you weren’t looking for just a new therapist today. You also need someone to write you a top surgery letter. Although you’ve only been on T for 2 months, barely enough to notice anything besides an increased libido and clit growth, your breasts are by far your biggest source of dysphoria. You often wear two binders when you’re going anywhere, and even then, a sizable bump is visible on your chest. You’re hoping they may become easier to bind with hormones, but you already know that you’ll need surgery regardless.

“Milo Brown?” A masculine voice calls your name from across the room. Glancing up, you see a very attractive man, much taller than you, looking to be in good shape under his professional attire, but not overly muscular. His dark shoulder-length wavy hair and stubble complement his gentle, masculine face and warm brown eyes.

Surprised by the man’s beauty, you stumble on your words as you rise from your seat. “I- uh- I’m here.”

“Great! Let’s get back to my office.” He smiles warmly and gestures for you to follow him out of the waiting room and down a hallway, passing mostly empty offices on the way. This doesn’t seem too odd, as there was construction on the lower floor. Maybe some patients didn’t like the noise and cancelled? Or maybe you’re trying to distract yourself from thinking of the exceedingly attractive man that may soon be your therapist. You’ve considered yourself gay since coming out, but starting hormones has certainly made that attraction all the more apparent.

As he opens his office door, you’re surprised by how casual it is. There’s a long couch next to an armchair, with a clipboard set neatly on top. His desk is to the side, seemingly ignored while clients were present in favor of a more personal layout. Thinking of something to say as you sat on the couch, you spit out “I like your office.”

“Thank you Milo, I spent a lot of time thinking of the anatomy of the room and how to make my clients most at ease. I find this works best.” He smiles at you, his eyes gentle and enticing. “I’m Dr. Sterling, I specialize in support for LGBT and FTM clients. Nice to meet you! Tell me a but about yourself and what brings you here.”

“My name is Milo Brown, I’m 19 years old, and I just started testosterone. I’ve been out as trans for a while but finally got access to hormones and I’m hoping to get top surgery as well, but I need a letter for it. I also just need support with my dysphoria and depression.” You cross your arms over your large chest self-consciously.

“Well, that’s nothing I haven’t heard before. Can you tell me more about your dysphoria regarding your chest?”

Shifting uncomfortably in your chair, you hesitantly proceed. “Every day is awful! They’re the first thing I think about when I wake up and I go to sleep trying not to feel or think about them. They’re so big and heavy that I feel them whenever I move and it makes me so dysphoric. It’s also impossible to make myself flat, so I never pass. As a gay man, it’s so hard to find a man who would want a guy with a body like mine!”

“Oh, Milo, I think that’s very negative thinking. Plenty of men would find you attractive! I thought you were quite beautiful when I saw you myself.”

You’re surprised by his words! That sounded very flirtatious, but maybe he was just trying to boost your ego. Either way, it made the empty space between your legs tingle when he said it. You also didn’t know he was queer, but it definitely makes you more comfortable with him. “Well… that does make me feel better. I still don’t feel comfortable with my chest though.”

“Why don’t we try something? This is an exercise I’ve done with plenty of my transmasuline patients before, and it has always improved their lives and helped with dysphoria. While we do it, I can assess you for top surgery as well! How does that sound?” He smiled at you expectingly.

“Uhhh… yeah, that sounds good. What are we doing?”

“I’m just going to have you answer some questions about your body and dysphoria. This may get uncomfortable, but it’s all part of this process. I’m sure you can trust me, right?”

“Of course!” You answer instinctively.

“Right. First, I want you to take off your shirt and binder.” He instructs casually.

“What!? I thought we were just answering questions. Is that necessary?” You’re again surprised, he wasn’t a surgeon and you had never shown anyone your chest before. You didn’t want to look at it yourself, much less this beautiful man you’re expecting to see regularly!

“I understand this is surprising and uncomfortable, but I want to understand your perspective on your body, as well as assess the size and density for surgery. I need to know this for the letter, and I understand this is very important to you. I’m sorry for the discomfort, Milo.” He looked at you apologetically, his brown eyes sparkling, staring in to your soul and shooting down between your legs.

“I… okay.” What he was saying did make sense, and you would do most anything for this surgery. Resolving to just get this over with, you take off your oversized hoodie and throw it on the couch next to you. Grabbing both binders at once, you exert a herculean force squeezing yourself out, panting as your huge breasts fly out. You blush with embarrassment as a loud clap can be heard from them swinging together.

Dr. Sterling calmly walks closer to you. “Do you know your cup size?”

“Uh… no, sorry.”

“That’s alright, we can measure now.” He smiles warmly and pulls out some measuring tape. Without hesitation, he walks up to you and wraps it around your chest! He first measures your underbust before moving to measure your bust. His hands rest on your breasts as he does so. “Alright… looks like you have J cups.” His hand brushes your nipple as he backs away.

“Mmph!” Involuntarily, you let out a short, feminine moan. Both the dysphoria of knowing your overwhelming cup size and your accidental vocalization leave you embarrassed and blushing harder than ever.

“It doesn’t seem like you’ve experienced any vocal changes from testosterone.” He observes.

“Umm… not yet, no.”

“It also seems like you have quite sensitive nipples?”

“I guess…”

“Well, have you ever considered embracing your breasts?”

“Huh?” You were confused. They made you sad and dysphoric, how could you ever embrace them? He did say whatever he was doing worked for all of his other transmasc patients, but this seemed absurd.

“Your breast are way too big to bind properly. I’ve seen you wearing two binders in here, and that is not healthy. As your therapist, I can’t encourage you to damage your body in such a way, and especially without two binders, you wouldn’t be able to hide them at all anyways. And why go through the trouble of binding if everyone can tell? It might do you some good to just accept your body as it is. It’s not like whether you bind now will affect surgery.”

Unfortunately, everything he was saying made perfect sense. Even when binding, it was very obvious you had breasts. Why go through all the trouble, especially if it was hurting your body? You were dysphoric either way, might as well be more comfortable physically. “I guess… I guess you’re right.”

“Yes… unfortunately it’s also not very possible hormones could reduce them to a bindable size either.”

This devastated you. Even later on testosterone, you would have obvious breasts? How could you expect anyone to take you seriously as a man? You had hoped to begin passing in public soon, and finally begin living comfortably, but you weren’t so sure now. Would it even be safe to live as a non-passing trans man? Why were you going through so much for hormones if there was no hope of passing before surgery anyways? Maybe you should just wait until then for hormones- no one will gender you right as you are now. “Maybe… maybe I should pause testosterone until surgery then.”

“Yes, I can see why. That might be the safest option for you.” He nodded solemnly. “We can practice some exercises to reduce dysphoria until then, if you’d like.” His frown shifted in to a comforting smile.

Still upset, you nodded.

He moved closer and, before you could react, placed one hand on each perky, round breast, grabbing you by the boobs.

Surprised, you squeaked.

“This is just to get you used to your breasts. It often helps most when someone else does it, so you’re more comfortable with other people seeing them.” He gently squeezed and pulled, running his fingers along your supple breasts, warm palms pressing your hard nipples.

“Mmmmmm-! Oooh!” You let out a series of feminine wails as the doctor palms at your breasts. They were so sensitive and they felt so heavy- so wrong on your body- and yet they sent waves of pleasure throughout your curvy figure.

“Are you still going to go by Milo? I mean, you’re stopping T until surgery because you won’t be able to pass. It would be weird to only keep the name and pronouns, especially for strangers.” His hands shifted to thumb at your nipples.

Your thoughts were flooded with waves of pleasure shooting from your tits. The importance of this decision didn’t fully register, but what he was saying made sense to you. “You’re right.”

“Good girl.”

“Huhh…”

“People are going to refer to you by what you look like. You know you don’t pass. This is just exposure training, okay?”

“Okay…” You mindlessly agree as he moves his head close to your breast.

“See? You are a good girl.” He starts to suck on your nipple, causing you to throw your head back and wail in pleasure. You don’t know when his own clothes came off, but he’s getting on top of you and pulling your pants off, leaving you in just your boxers with his much larger biologically male body pinning you down, suddenly kissing your lips.

“What… what are you doing now, d-doctor…” he cuts you off as you pant your words out.

“The easiest way to adapt to and accept being seen as a woman is to have sex with a straight man, one who can use you as only male can use female. You need this, Amelia. It’s okay.”

Hearing your deadname makes you cringe with dysphoria. You’ve always felt an aversion towards it, despising the femininity it signaled. You struggle to reconcile your attraction to the doctor and trust in his methods to your current panic. This all felt good and sounded logical but it’s happening too fast to react, and these are all such big decisions, and suddenly he’s pulling your boxers off.

“Your pussy is so perfect. You make such a sexy woman.” He rubs the length of his cock along your clit and hole. The distinction between your pathetic nub and his masculine length is obvious. He gropes your massive jiggling breasts, squeezing them together and lowering his head to kiss and suck your nipples as his dick prods your entrance.

“Doctor Sterling…” You moan his name as his assault on your tits grows heavier. He sloppily makes out with your huge boobs, enjoying every second he can get drowning in your massive breasts.

He momentarily pulls his mouth from your tits. “Yes… fuck, Amelia!” He rams his hard cock all the way inside you, hitting your cervix as he moans your deadname, resuming his assault on your massive wobbling boobs all the while.

You scream and wail, unsure if it’s in pleasure or some mix of dysphoria and grief for your lost ambitions. Whatever male identity you insisted on was currently obstructed by your massive tits and the straight man enjoying them as he pounded in to your soft, tight vagina. Anyone who saw you two would know immediately that this was heterosexual sex- they would never stop to consider you could be anything but a curvy woman being held down and fucked by a handsome man. Suddenly, the doctor’s thrusts sped up. You forgot condoms, and you’re barely on T!

Right as you open your mouth, he interrupts. “I’m gonna cum, Amelia! I’m cumming inside you!” He holds himself against your cervix, comforting you as you begin to scream. “Shhh, good girl, it’s okay.”

You feel his hot cum flood in to your unprotected pussy, tears falling from your eyes. Feeling the sticky cum start to leak out, you manage to speak. “Do… do you have a towel?”

“Uhhh… here!” He grabs your binders and rips them both, turning them in to makeshift towels as he pulls out, along with a flood of cum.

You know you said you wouldn’t bind anymore, but having the option taken away made everything all the more real. You know it was for the best tho. He specializes in helping trans men, and he said this always works. You just have to trust him! As time runs out, you don’t even realize you forgot to finish your top surgery letter.

Still… you couldn’t wait to book your next session.

[httpsserene]

𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐤𝐞𝐥𝐩 (𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩) | 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐱 𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐨𝐧

summary: a random man breaks your phone and runs away before you can even yell at him. he becomes your archenemy when you learn that you lost hundreds of photos of your children. and by “your children”, you mean pups—seal pups.

pairing: alex albon x seal specialist! fem!black!reader

from, serene: do not post any gifts you get on social media. that's how people get robbed /srs. i'm trying to make my reader's have different personalities but i think i failed with this one. i'll try on the next smau. happy reading, loves xxx

⌕ join taglist | feedback & requests | upcoming chapters | table of contents | seal you later toc | next ↻

messages • yn -> coral (yn’s coworker)

twitter • alex_albon

twitter • sealteamsix

messages • max please unmute us gc -> alex

twitter dm’s • alex -> yn

messages • yn -> coral

twitter dm’s cont. • alex -> yn

messages cont. • yn -> coral • alex -> max please unmute us gc

igstory • seallygirlyn just uploaded!

[caption1; optimus prime being a very brave boy while being weighed][caption2; cutely decorated suspicious packages are about to be unboxed. if i'm inactive just know alex_albon is responsible!]

alex_albon: his name is optimus prime 🥹🤧 seallygirlyn: it's adorable right? seallygirlyn: when he first got rescued he was fighting with another pup named megatron, so the naming was easy lol

coral: that looks like a lot more than an iphone 🤨 seallygirlyn: i told him to keep it reasonable! but i fear he went too far,,,

user: wow he was really serious about finding you. lwk kinda sweet. it's giving loverboy. 🤭 seallygirlyn: loll don’t read to far into it! he’s just a generous guy ☺️ user: if you say so….

messages • yn -> coral • twitter dm’s • yn -> alex

instagram • seallygirlyn • august 26th

liked by alex_albon, georgerussell63, coral, and 17,364 others

seallygirlyn when you ask a man to replace your phone that he broke, he might buy you the newest phone and a bunch of other things (you told him not to get !!) you can't buy my favor, yk? fish says thank you for the stuffie. thank you from me too, alex_albon. this is seriously too much to give for a broken iphone.

view comments

seallygirlyn: going to miss using a flip phone lwk...tysm alex_albon i made it look all pretty in the basket in hopes it fixes your lightly ruined public image

➥ alex_albon: am i forgiven? ➥ seallygirlyn: i already forgave u alex, i told you this 🙂 ➥ alex_albon: just wanted you to say it where everybody can see it! they're still slandering my name ➥ seallygirlyn: you can replace my phone and my dying ipad but, you can never recover my lost seal photos :( ➥ alex_albon: i will pay for your icloud storage from this point forward until my dying breath ➥ seallygirlyn: i need that in writing with a signature ✍��

coral: i told you alex is a good guy! that's why he's been my favorite since f2!!!

➥ seallygirlyn: he's been moved from biggest adversary to occasional nemesis status ➥ alex_albon: that's improvement, i'll take it! thanks for supporting me from before the start, coral! dedicating my next points to both of you! ➥ coral: imgoingtofaint 😵‍💫

georgerussell63: ah. this must be why alex made me pay for his mcdonalds the other day. he spent all of his money on you

➥ alex_albon: GEORGE PLEASE 😟😣 ➥ user1: george is such an instigator. he lives to stir shit up i swear ➥ user2: russell, george. professional cockblocker extraordinaire.

user3: it's a little odd that a man would buy a woman he has no romantic interest in so many expensive gifts....

➥ user4: lol these gifts aren't expensive. the cost was nothing to him, he's an f1 driver and she's nothing compared to him 😒 ➥ user5: jealous little girl alert user4 🚨 ➥ user6: she's nothing compared to him? the woman who works tirelessly to rehabilitate seal pups and release them back into the ocean—the woman who's actively conserving the ocean and protecting marine life, is nothing compared to him? the man who drives an f1 car in circles? try again, girly. you're just jealous any RESPECTABLE man wouldn't give you the time of day. ➥ user7: CLOCK IT ➥ user8: read you like a book user4 🤣

user9: you have an orange cat named fish 🥺

➥ seallygirlyn: yes! isn't he the sweetest boy to ever exist? ➥ user9: i'd kill for fish 🫶🏻

user12: fish and his stuffie are the cutest!!!! i just wanna bite him

➥ alex_albon: not as cute as seallygirlyn ➥ seallygirlyn: ...who asked you? are you calling fish ugly?? ➥ alex_albon: what? NO !!! i was calling you cute?! ➥ user13: that was difficult to read ngl ➥ user14: mission failed. we'll get 'em next time.

general taglist (ask to join):

@saintslewis/@cherry2stems/@lorarri/@mindless-rock/@biancathecool

@barnestatic/@darleneslane/@lovingaphroditesworld/@smoothopz/@vetteltea

@tallrock35/@spideybv28/@loomiscorpse/@hiireadstuff/@namgification

@gg-trini/@multi-fandom-rando/@landoslutmeout/@love-simon/@iloveyou3000morgan/

@rexit-mo/@oscahpastry/@sweatrevenge5436-blog/@bokutos-babyowl/@oliviah-25

@evermoreandroyalblue/@riveristhebest1/@xylinasdiary/@ashiekins/@flowergirl1134

@hearts4robs/@c-losur3/@bloodyymaryyy/@awritingtree/@lammys-thinking

seal you later taglist (ask to join):

@poppysrin@everythingabby101@mangotaitai

© httpsserene 2024 — photos used from pinterest. do not re-upload.

[vivwritescrappythings]

small apologies

simon riley x afab!reader

Six months have passed since Simon took you back to his place, he wants to say he's sorry.

part one

tw: smut, mentions of suicidal actions/thoughts, depressed simon, bisexual simon, afab and fem reader, oral f!receiving, fingering, a touch of butt play, wrote this while very tired.

word count: 6.5k

masterlist

MDNI!

—

It had been nearly six months since Simon saw you. 

You’d weaseled your way into his fucking brain like a parasite, the dejected look on your face haunting him. 

But it was more than just that, he’d catch himself thinking about the way you fidgeted with the cardboard coaster at the pub, or how you’d stumbled over your feet to catch up with him on the way to his flat, or your fucking giggle on his front doorstep.

The worst was when he was fisting his cock in the frantic moments he could find privacy while deployed, his mind wandering back to your dulcet moans as you ground yourself against his lap. There was a wet spot on his jeans when you left—he’d shamelessly fished them out of the dirty laundry to sniff a few days later.

Johnny would’ve been disappointed in him for treating you like that. 

He kept that in mind when he finally got back to his flat, dropping his bag of gear on the slightly dusty floor to see your coat hanging lonely on the hook. Of course you’d forgotten it. The way you stormed out was still clear in his mind, your retreat so rushed and hasty that he couldn’t even get a word in edgewise.

Had you really been wearing this corduroy monstrosity at the pub? You must have been so pretty that he didn’t even notice, too focused on getting you home to care. 

Simon thought he’d be doing you a favor if he just tossed the thing, the rust colored jacket all frayed on the ends and missing a few buttons. It looked like a favorite coat, a little too well-loved around the edges.

He had to return it to you. Wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he didn’t. Or at least that was a decent enough excuse as any to go on a manhunt for your information. You never exchanged phone numbers… or even last names. 

If he ever did manage to find you, he’d have to talk to you about being more weary of strangers. Especially strangers that looked like him—chewed up and spit out by the world.

Rifling through your pockets rewarded him with some lint, a squished piece of gum still in its paper wrapper, and a ball of crumpled receipts. Simon pushed aside the feeling of guilt associated with going through your personal things as he spread the receipts flat on his kitchen counter. 

They were all from a coffee shop near the university, the order across the receipts was identical: a hazelnut latte and almond croissant. 

You liked sweet things. It was fitting.

—

He showed up at that damn coffee shop dozens of times in the next week, so much so that the baristas memorized his order. Medium black coffee with just a splash of milk. The gals usually had it prepared for him by the time he made it up to the register, having recognized his wide shoulders before he even got through the glass door and the little bell announced his arrival. 

The university students studying gave him odd looks, seeing him jammed behind one of the tiny tables and trying to inconspicuously watch the door. They were everywhere, laptops and textbooks spread out on the tables and seats–but none of them were you.

It took him another week of showing up at random times to muster up the courage to ask the baristas about you. 

They didn’t want to tell him at first, suspicious gazes as he described you and gave them your name. How could he blame them? If anything, he should have been praising them for their willingness to keep your identity protected.

Then one of the girls from the back of the house came forward, arms folded over her apron like an accusation and sending the hand-written name tag clattering to the tile. “Wait, are you Simon?”

His scarred, blonde eyebrow raised. There was a clumsy, confused nod of his head. He hadn’t expected you to tell anyone, thought you would’ve been as embarrassed as he was about the whole thing. Probably even more embarrassed than him, to be honest.

Simon found himself impressed by how the barista stood her ground, jaw set and feet planted like she was ready for him to jump the counter and attack her. The other girls were whispering to one another, all wide-eyes and shocked expressions as they tittered. “I don’t really think she wants to see you.”

His teeth dug into his cheek, pulling his expression to one side as his dark eyes traced the grout of the tile floor.

“Just been lookin’ to apologize to her about what happened,” Simon finally admitted, awkward and uncomfortable in his attempt at honesty. One big hand came to rub at the back of his neck, feeling sweat pooling at his nape.

He’d killed people without the bat of an eye, but talking about apologizing to you made him break out in a sweat.

The silence was deafening, like he’d just set off a grenade near the cash register and they were dealing with the aftershock. The barista didn’t seem to be buying it, her weight shifting from her right side to her left as she moved her stance.

“And I’ve got her jacket. The ghastly orange one?” He sounded unsure, like he didn’t know what jacket was currently hung up next to his front door. “Thought she’d want it back, and I’ll only give it to her myself.”

Keeping your jacket as a hostage had to be a new low. He could tell you loved the coat, he figured that would be enough to convince the barista to divulge your information.

The girl sighed, rolling her eyes behind her thick-framed glasses. “She comes around nine at night, pretty much every day except weekends. You’ll catch her then, but she probably won’t want to talk to you.”

Good enough for him. 

“Thanks ladies,” Simon muttered, turning and leaving without even grabbing his coffee.

—

You were tucked into a booth in the back of the shop and hunched over your laptop. 

Simon had to pause for a moment, you hardly even looked like the same girl from the pub. Every stitch of makeup was gone from your face, your fancy dress had been exchanged for a soft sweater and leggings. 

He found that he preferred you this way.

There was a moment of hesitation before he forced himself to approach. Your jacket was clutched in his hand, smelling like his laundry detergent. 

Anxiety dripped down his spine for a moment, he didn’t realize he would be so terrified to approach you. He must be a fool to think that you would welcome him with that pretty smile of yours, your eyes flashing with the same mischief he had seen all those months ago.

But Johnny would push him to apologize, to talk to you. He wouldn’t have wanted Simon to be miserable for the rest of his life, and you’d already decided to become a permanent resident of his mind.

He ended up approaching the cash register, stalling the inevitable confrontation for a moment. “I’ll get a small black coffee and a medium hazelnut latte,” he muttered, forking over the bills in a hurry. Maybe if he came over with a coffee it would be a sort of peace offering—one of many if you didn’t outright turn him away.

With both coffees in hand and your jacket tucked under his arm, Simon finally approached you. He had to keep reminding himself that he was a soldier, he’d stared down the barrels of guns and had been buried alive, but for some reason he found you to be terrifying.

You didn’t look up from your laptop, even when he was looming over you like the grim reaper. The sound of your fingers flying over the keyboard was impressive, a near-constant stream of tapping that put his search-and-peck method to shame.

He cleared his throat, shifting his stance as you looked away from your work. 

The way your expression fell when you saw him made Simon’s stomach twist into a knot.

“I was warned that you might show up,” you said, twisting a pen around your fingers as your head tilted to one side. “Didn’t think you actually had the guts.”

He winced. It was deserved, it didn’t take much self-awareness to recognize that. He continued to stand awkwardly in front of the table, unsure if you wanted him to sit down with you or were about to tell him to fuck off.

“Well, sit down, then,” you said, your gaze trailing to the booth across from you and back to Simon’s face. “Can’t have you just standing there like an oaf.”

If there was one thing Simon was excellent at, it was taking orders. His knees bumped yours under the table, making you shuffle out of the way as he set the paper coffee cup down next to your empty one. Or at least he hoped it was empty. 

“Um, ‘ve got your jacket,” he said after a beat of silence, setting the orange coat on the table. You reached for it, but Simon’s big paw of a hand kept you from snatching it back. “Can we talk? For a minute?”

When did he start sounding like a miserable teenager?

You huffed, folding your hands up under your chin and resting the weight of your head on them. “Fine, Simon.” The syllables were drawn out like you were already annoyed.

He swallowed thickly, soldiering on. “Just wanted to apologize.” It came out quieter than he’d meant it to, more uncomfortable. His dark eyes were focused on the wood grain of the table, calloused fingertips tapping the coffee cup still in his hand.

You just hummed, expression flat as you looked him up and down. His jaw flexed as he took a breath. The background music in the little coffee shop was some song from a movie he half recognized, it was one Johnny had forced him to watch when they’d still been clumsily flirting, shoulders pressed together on the too-small loveseat on base. 

The skin on the nape of his neck was damp when he scraped his palm across it. “I… I was havin’ a hard time, wasn’t fair to use ya like that.”

Surprise made your expression twist along with the sinking feeling in his gut. It was a stupid idea to come here and apologize—all of this for some silly crush? He needed to get his head back on his shoulders.

“So what was the hard time?” you asked, sending his train of thought off the rails. He didn’t think you’d want to know. “You and that Johnny fellow break up or something?”

A few months ago a question like that would have destroyed Simon. How could he put that his whole life ended into words? That for over a year, he wished he’d been dead in the ground with him—he just didn’t have the guts to pull the trigger when he’d actually put the gun in his mouth.

He sighed, scrubbing his hand over the lower half of his face. “He died. Killed in action.” 

The way your expression sank made his heart ache. Your harsh demeanor completely changed, melting into empathy. You reached across the table toward him, your soft fingers running across the back of his hand. The feel of your skin against his made his stomach flip.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,” you said, brows furrowed over your eyes. Your obvious concern was endearing, genuine despite not having to be.

His tongue clicked against his teeth as he shook his head. “Wouldn’t’ve told you if I didn’t want you to know,” he said, voice quiet. There was a level of trepidation to his words, he said didn’t want to scare you off by saying too much.

You hummed softly, nodding as you pulled your hand back. Simon had to resist the urge to grab it. He tapped his fingertips on the table top instead.

“How, um, how long were you together?” you asked, tilting your head slightly as you looked at Simon. It was kind of you to ask, most people wouldn’t want to know more about his dead boyfriend.

“Two years n’some.” He drank a sip of his coffee just to give himself something to do with his hands. “Hell, he’s been gone for almost as long as we were together.” 

The realization caught Simon off guard, had two years really already passed by? He’d hardly noticed. He was barely alive for them.

“I’m really sorry,” you whispered again, leaning forward and resting your elbows on the table. You took a sip of the hazelnut latte he bought you as you looked at him over the rim. He was entranced when you licked the foam off your upper lip. 

Simon just shrugged. “S’part of the job, we both knew that,” he muttered, looking down at the table for a moment. The hanging silence made his skin crawl. “He was my best friend, too, ya know? Even before we were together and everythin’—he just knew all there was to know about me.”

You listened intently while he rambled about his relationship with Johnny, sipping your coffee and genuinely paying attention. Simon couldn’t recall the last time someone actually listened to him like this, at least someone he wasn’t paying to do it. He found himself choking up when he had to catch his breath. 

“We don’t have to talk about it,” you blurted, a kind attempt to spare him from having to spill his emotions to you. He wanted to thank you for trying. “You apologized, I accept. It’s really alright. You didn’t have to apologize at all.”

But he did.

“Nah, doll, thought about you too much afterward to not apologize.” There it was again, that surprised look on your face. Whatever image of him you had, he wanted to erase it from your mind forever. “You took up a damn residence in my head while I was deployed, really pissed me off for a while.” 

The corner of your mouth twitched with the threat of a smile.The change of subject breathed life back into the conversation, both of you taking a deep breath. He fixated on it, dark brown eyes staring at your lips long enough that he would have burned a hole through it.

“Took up a residence in your head? Is it a flat or more of a bedsit?” you asked, a hint of mischief flashing in your eyes. 

Simon chuckled, shaking his head to himself. “A damn villa, actually,” he corrected, running a hand through his choppy haircut. The amount of brain space you’d been taking up lately was embarrassing.

You snorted, the sound nearly making his heart stop. He watched you fold a napkin into smaller and smaller triangles as you looked at him, chipped nail polish catching the light. “Sounds pretty nice, can’t say I ever stayed in a villa before,” you quipped.

His laugh sounded like a bark, harsh and deep. “Well you practically own the place now, doll, so you better enjoy it,” he said, taking a drink of his now lukewarm coffee. 

You rolled your eyes playfully, resting your chin in the palm of your hand and letting your elbow dig into the tabletop. “So Simon, what brought you here? I know it can’t just be that I was on your mind,” you said, the smile you’d been starting to sport fading.

The fact that you could see through him like that caught him off guard. Simon spread his big hands flat on the table, pressing his fingertips against the wood veneer as he considered his answer. “My shrink n’I talked about it a lot,” he finally muttered.

If he hadn’t been trying to bore a hole through the table with his eyes he would’ve seen your eyebrows tick up in surprise. “A shrink? You decided to see a therapist?” 

A half smile formed on his face, his eyes still downturned from yours. Hearing your shock was enough. “Court mandated,” he supplemented, glancing at you for a moment before looking away again. “Busted up some guys pretty good for harassing people outside a gay pub couple months ago, got off easy.” 

“Well aren’t you a good samaritan,” you said, not even mentioning that he was at a gay pub. He didn’t know why he expected you to fixate on that more.

“Try my best,” he mumbled, blushing at the compliment. He couldn’t look away from you for too long, wanting to see every expression you made like it was his last chance. And it very well might’ve been his last chance, it would be easy for you to take your jacket back and shoo him off.

There was something in your expression that made his breath catch in his throat. The sparkle in your eye looked like you were going to forgive him, and he realized he was ready to do anything to be absolved of his sins by your gentle hand.

The sound of a chair being flipped upside down and put on a table made him flinch, snapping the two of you out of it as the baristas started to close up shop. He’d never been more aggravated in his life than when he watched the baristas start their closing duties. 

“Oh, didn’t realize it was so late,” you said, frantically starting to pack your things into the backpack on the seat next to you.

Simon swallowed, Adam’s Apple bobbing beneath his skin. “Guess time got away from us.”

He walked out behind you like a guard dog, hot on your heels and towering over you as you stood on the sidewalk. The glow coming from the coffee shop window lit you up in yellows and oranges, softening you like an oil painting.

“Thanks… for bringing my jacket back,” you said, sounding a touch awkward as you looked up at him. You had the orange jacket folded over your forearm.

He nodded, a soft grunt of acknowledgment coming from his chest. “Didn’t fit me when I tried it on, so I figured I’d give it back.”

You laughed, shaking your head. The weight of your gaze dragged up from his heavy black boots to his shaggy crop of blonde hair. “Well, have a good night, Simon,” you murmured, taking a step back from him. You said it low and quiet, moving away from him slowly.

He didn’t see car keys or anything on you, and he didn’t like the idea of you taking the tram so late and by yourself. “How are ya getting home?” he asked, stepping forward toward you.

You paused your retreat. “I was gonna walk, s’only twenty minutes from here.” You pointed in some direction. 

Simon crossed his arms over his chest. Making you walk at night? That wouldn’t do.

“My car’s parked right there, I can drive you,” he said, his voice hardly leaving room for argument. But thankfully you just nodded and accepted, following him to the car parked on the curb. 

“Thanks, Simon,” you murmured, eyes stuck on him as you wedged past him to clamber in the passenger seat, your backpack between your feet.

“For you? S’not a problem,” he assured you, letting the door snap closed with a click.

—

Simon parked outside of your flat, the two of you looking at the porch light that you told him had gone out. He busied himself with studying your profile, the slope of your nose and the pout of your lips. It took every ounce of self control to not reach out and turn you for a kiss.

He was such an idiot to tell you not to kiss him the first time. 

“So…” you trailed off, turning to look at him. The way you tilted your head betrayed how conflicted you felt. “Even though I would like to invite you inside so you could start your real apology, I think I’ll have to wait for you to ask me on a proper date.”

His heart thumped—he really wanted to go inside with you. 

The hope of tasting your deliciously wet cunt had kept him going through his last deployment, the thought of hearing you moan his name. Simon had to adjust how he was sitting. 

“I can do a proper date,” he said, a thick arm stretching across the console to grasp the back of your seat. “Pick ya up, go out for a meal.”

He’d probably do anything you asked. Devotion was something that came easy to him, he could already feel the need to satisfy your every want rising in his mind.

“Yeah?” you asked, a ghost of a smile pulling your lip. It was almost as if you’d expected him to deny you.

How could he deny you anything?

“Yeah, doll,” he confirmed, a steadfast nod of his head that sent some of his blonde hair onto his forehead. “Take you anywhere, just gotta tell me.”

Your face scrunched up a bit in the dim light in the car, nose wrinkling as you looked up at him from the passenger seat. Then you were leaning over the console, a hand fisting in the dark fabric of his coat and yanking him down toward you.

Simon acquiesced, letting his spine curve as you pulled him in. “You gonna let me kiss you this time?” you asked, your faces only a few centimeters away from one another at this point.

Your breaths mingled together, just a little movement forward and he’d finally feel your soft lips against his scarred ones.

The scars on his face didn’t ever seem to bother you, even when you first met at the pub. You looked at his scarred face and slightly crooked nose and talked to him anyways. Went home with him anyways. 

“Course, d’be daft not to,” he grumbled, dark eyes skirting down to your lips for a moment. You smirked, eyes flashing with your triumph. 

Simon closed the space between you two, lips slanting over yours. 

He didn’t think he’d ever feel alive again, but kissing you made him reconsider. 

You made a soft surprised sound against his mouth before relaxing into it, your hands finding his jacket collar and tugging him even closer. He hardly noticed the console pressing against his thigh and stomach as he twisted over it, one paw of a hand finding the soft plush of your thigh beneath the leggings. 

The kiss quickly became heated, tongues and teeth meeting as your fingers twisted into the short locks of blonde hair at the nape of his neck. Simon could crack your ribs open and swallow you whole, his hands grabbing at the curve of your waist and the flesh of your ass as he tried to feel as much of you as he could. 

You didn’t deny him, twisting in your seat as much as you could. He groped you like some pathetic teenager, licking into your mouth as his hands squeezed at your breasts through the thick knit of your sweater and skimmed dangerously far up between your thighs. 

“Simon,” you breathed as he trailed his lips along your jaw and to your neck. He was being greedy, taking more than you originally agreed to give. It felt like life had been breathed back into his corpse and he couldn’t let it go.

He hummed against the column of your throat. “Just let me start my apology,” Simon murmured, his deep voice even tougher than normal. His fingers traced the tight elastic waistband of your leggings, delighting in the feeling of the layer of pudge pressing above them.

“Simon… someone will see.” More of a whine than actually telling him to stop. You tilted your head to give him more access to the delicate skin of your throat, making him smile against your throat. 

“A small apology,” he mumbled, squeezing your inner thighs with a hand. “No one will see, promise.”

It earned him a whimper, your legs spreading so Simon could fit his hand between them. He flattened the meat of his palm against your pubic bone, long fingers stretching back to cup your cunt through the thin layers of your leggings and panties. Heat radiated off you onto his hand.

You sighed, fingers tightening their grip on his hair. “What if someone walks by?” He could appreciate the slight tremble of anxiety in your tone.

“Back seat windows are tinted, that better?” he asked against the juncture of your neck and shoulder, laving his tongue over the skin. His other hand had snaked up the hem of your sweater and was pawing at the curve of your waist.

You hummed, nodding quickly. Simon didn’t realize how fast he ushered you over the center console and into the back seat until you were careening over it and tumbling into the leather upholstery. He smirked, taking the opportunity to grab a handful of your plush ass that made you burst out in a giggle and swat at his hand. 

Adrenaline was already buzzing through him as he got up to get out of the car—there was no way he could fit over the console even if he wanted to. He made sure to push the front seat all the way forward so he had somewhere to put his legs. 

Getting in was a clumsy thing, he hit his head on the roof of the car as he planted his knees into the leather seat. He grunted, rubbing his forehead with a hand as he bent down further. Twisting to close the door was a mess, leading to you giggling as he finally was able to reach the handle and yank it shut. 

“Oh, y’think that’s funny?” Simon asked you, a wolfish grin on his face as he set his sights on you.

You looked so sweet and cute, a hand pressed over your mouth as you snickered and your eyes flashing with a bit of mischief. The little shake of your head was too adorable for words, only making his smile grow even wider.

He liked this playful side of you, it felt like the two of you hadn’t been able to let go of the seriousness of your last encounter. 

“That’s it, doll.” Simon felt like a monster shoved in here with you, taking up all the extra space in the back seat as he reached for you. Big hands curled around the tops of your thighs and yanked you toward him. 

You squeaked a laugh as you landed on your back. He was already crowding in, pressing you nearly in half on the seat as he bullied his way into your personal space. 

The feeling of your fingertips running through his short hair made him groan. He almost didn’t know what to do with you—you were so soft compared to him, he was worried he would break you without meaning to.

His mouth found yours in the dark, the softness of your lips molding to his without effort. You moaned into the kiss, pulling him in by the nape of his neck. 

A big hand planted on the leather seat next to your head, holding the weight of his body off you as he hungrily licked into your mouth. He just couldn’t help himself, he was too greedy to stop.

His other hand snapped the waistband of your leggings against the soft skin of your stomach, making your breath hitch—but you didn’t stop him.

The elastic was tight as he pushed his fingers beneath it, the soft layer of pudge on your belly squishing as he did. He shifted his weight back to his knees, breaking the kiss as he yanked your leggings and panties down in one smooth motion.

“Simon!” you yelped, eyes wide as you looked at him.

He was hardly paying attention, pushing your knees to your chest. His big hands braced on the backs of your thighs, the mess of your underwear and leggings rucked up just enough that he could see all of you.

If you told him his tongue lolled out like some cheesy cartoon, Simon wouldn’t have been surprised. You had the prettiest cunt he ever saw: slick and puffy—she was already drooling for him.

“Jesus, doll,” he grunted, dark eyes still focused at the apex of your thighs. “You’re just as pretty down here, aren’t you?”

You made a strangled noise, one of your hands grabbing at his and wrapping around his ring and pinky finger. “You’re being ridiculous,” you whined, still not telling him to fuck off or to stop.

He chuckled, feeling his mouth watering as he imagined diving between your legs. “Just want to apologize to her for neglecting her last time, can I do that?” he asked you, voice low and gruff. 

Your thighs trembled under his hands, trying to squeeze together. He swore he saw a bit more slick trickle out of you, running down your perineum and pooling in your puckered asshole. God, he’d give anything to taste you. 

But you hadn’t said anything yet. The silence felt like it was sucking the air out of the car. He suddenly felt enormous and ungainly, the fear that you didn’t want this sending a chill down his spine. 

“Y-yeah,” you finally breathed, your voice breathy and high. 

Relief breathed back into his body, a smile tugging at his lip. “Yeah?” he repeated, already maneuvering so he was almost level with your pussy. He pressed wet kisses against the backs of your thighs and felt you squirm.

“Shit, please,” you ended up whining, sounding wrecked already. Simon’s heart skipped a beat, not believing that you were so needy you were already begging him.

“Calm down.” He licked the words into the puffy lips of your pussy. Before he knew it, he coaxed them open with his crooked nose and was glistening from nose to chin. It still didn’t feel like enough, he was selfish, he needed to be drowning in you.

You were the opposite of calm, legs straining against his hands and hips rutting up toward his face after the first touch. He loved how responsive you were, mewling and whining and fucking soaking wet for him. It’s everything he could do to keep his head on his shoulders and not try to unhinge his jaw to swallow you whole.

All he could smell or taste was you, a heady mix of sweat and sweetness and musk that was all you. It pulled him in, desperate to drink as much of you as possible.

Your thighs spread as much as they could with your leggings around your knees, giving Simon just enough space to jam the bump along the bridge of his nose against your clit. He would let you break his nose again if you wanted to.

He felt delirious. Of course, he’d been with other women before you and had eaten them out, but Johnny was the only person he really felt devotion for. Yet here he was, brain blissfully devoid of a thought that didn’t pertain to you and your pleasure.

Devotion was a feeling Simon missed.

He moaned into your pussy, tongue laving over you without rhyme or reason for a few moments in an attempt to taste every part of you. You squirmed under him, whining beautifully as his big hands pushing down on your thighs pinned you to the leather seat.

Anyone who dared look into the car would get a show, you nearly bent in half beneath him, his big form curled over you and contorted so much that his left leg was starting to go numb. He hardly noticed.

“Simon!” you gasped. He was rock hard in his jeans, almost painfully stiff against his zipper as his tongue lapped at your fluttering hole. You whimpered as you let your head fall back against the seat, pushing your cunt against his face. 

He squeezed your thighs, wanting to unzip his jeans and take himself in his hand while he feasted on you. But he didn’t want to let go. The feel of your soft skin and soft flesh under his hands was heavenly, fingers kneading into the soft squish of your thighs as he speared his tongue into you.

If he stretched his fingers far enough, one hand could press both your legs back and free the other to explore you. It was too tempting to pet your pretty asshole with the calloused pad of his thumb, a self-satisfied groan pulling out of him at the sound of your squeal.

You gushed on his tongue.

He smiled into your pussy, teeth lightly nudging the swollen bud of your clit for a moment before he dove back in with his tongue. You kept trying to move, legs straining against the width of his hand as you twisted your sweater in your fingers.

A mix of slick and his saliva dripped down from your soaked cunt, pooling against his thumb as it circled the tight ring of muscle. The unhinged part of him wanted to force your legs so far back so the small of your spine lifted off the seat, opening you up so he could press his mouth between your cheeks. The thought of how you’d cry out made him groan against you.

But he left that for another day, part of his grand apology to you in the future.  

Simon’s jaw ached, mouth open and tongue fucking into you. The way you cried made him keep going, he wanted to keep hearing you. The tight sound of your whining devolved into something delightfully wet and raw, the little hitches of your breath and hiccups told him that you were crying.

Satisfied with how much he stretched you on your tongue, he pressed his index and middle fingers into your sodden cunt. The feel of you squeezing his fingers made him moan, his mouth moving upward to suckle at your clit. 

He was desperate to make you come, wanted to feel you falling apart on his fingers and tongue so he could put you back together.

You whimpered as Simon’s bicep tensed, making his fingers vibrate inside you. He sealed his lips around your clit, sucking it into his mouth and teasing it with his tongue. It was almost hard to focus, his cock so hard that it ached as he devoured you like a starving man.

“Simon,” you breathed, your voice sounding wet as you spoke, “m’gonna come.”

If there was a way to increase his efforts, he did. He twisted his fingers inside of you as they plunged back and forth, rubbing along every ridge inside you as your cunt clutched at him. He was almost frantic, tongue swirling over your clit in firm circles as his dark eyes squeezed shut.

You moaned, legs trembling against the restraint of his hand as you made needy little noises. He felt lightheaded, starving as the wet squelch of his fingers pressing your gummy walls filled his ears.

Then your breaths heaved, a gasp of his name escaping your lips as your body pulled taut like a bow. Simon didn’t relent, drinking down the sweet nectar of your slick. He was so greedy, not letting a drop escape at the expense of your sensitivity as your orgasm rocked through your body.

He didn’t pull away despite the desperation in your whines and grunted curses, curling his fingers into your spongey pussy and lapping at your clit with his flattened tongue. You were so tight that it felt like you would take his fingers clean off, your pussy pulling him in. 

The way you sobbed was pure sin, legs kicking desperately against his hold.

Your back broke on a cry, arching off the leather seat as you came for a second time. He could feel you clumsily reaching for him, pushing him away from your oversensitive cunt as you whimpered. 

Simon acquiesced, pulling away as he licked his lips. 

Pride surged through him as he partially sat up, letting your legs go. You looked absolutely wrecked, eyes hazy and tears streaked down your cheeks. Your chest was heaving beneath your sweater as you looked up at the ceiling of the car.  

He palmed his hard cock through his jeans, grunting softly at the much-needed friction. He had to get a hold of himself before he begged to fuck you out here in his car like a teenager.

“My god,” you sighed, wiping a hand over your face as you looked up at the roof. Your eyes were wide and hazy, stroking Simon’s ego.

A big paw of a hand rubbed up and down your thigh, moving from hip to where your leggings were still tangled around your knees. “S’my apology accepted?” Simon asked, his voice thick as he took deep breaths.

You giggled, propping yourself up on an elbow so you could properly look at him. Your eyes were almost black with arousal, your pupils spread so wide they looked like drops of ink in water. “Yeah, I think it was a pretty thorough one,” you teased, a smirk on your face as you lightly shoved his shoulder.

It took you a few more minutes to gather yourself, even breaths returning to your body as you slowly sat up again. You managed to maneuver your leggings back on, reaching over the seat for your overstuffed backpack. 

“So a proper date, right?” you asked, glancing down at the bulge at the front of his jeans before you looked back up at him. He expected no less from you, your stubbornness making him want to kiss you.

He nodded, swallowing thickly as he tried to formulate a response. “Yeah, doll. I can take you to dinner tomorrow–seven o’clock?”

You’re nodding and kissing his cheek before he could react. You opened the passenger side door, a blast of cool air hitting him like a jolt of electricity as he straightened up.

“See you tomorrow, Simon!” you chirped brightly as though you hadn’t just been bent in half in the back seat of his car, the door slamming shut behind you as you jogged up the walk and disappeared into your flat.

Simon chuckled to himself, shamelessly smelling his slick-soaked fingers as he wrestled himself into a sitting position in the back seat. His head rolled back against the headrest, dark eyes focused on the ceiling as he laughed in earnest for the first time in a while. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he felt excited at the concept of another day, but he already found himself counting down the minutes until tomorrow.

[niteskysx]

(A continuation from my last fic)

Stepbrother! Nicholas Chavez x Reader x Stepbrother! Cooper Koch

Your role in this family was… complicated. When your adoptive parents brought you into the family, they thought giving their boys a little sister would be a wonderful idea. A picture-perfect family, they said.

What they didn’t realize was that their sons were far from perfect.

At first, Nicholas seemed like the kind of older brother anyone would want— charming, protective, and confident. With the exception of some anger issues, of course.

He said he’d help you with boys. He’d give advice, tease you harmlessly, and make you smile. But as the both of you grew older, that teasing shifted into somewhat of a darker nature.

In the teaching and teasing, he would start making these odd requests and try to convince you the best he could.

“I want to try something new with my girlfriend, but I need to make sure I don’t screw it up with her, I- I really love her you know… Can I try it on you first? Just to see how it feels? Just this once?”

You hesitated first, of course, but you were just helping, right? You were family. It was all innocent, wasn’t it? Just a favor for your stepbrother.

The first time you gave in, you told yourself it was harmless. But once that line was crossed, it was like he’d broken a lock.

The requests kept getting bolder and things started escalating into more intense exchanges.

He’d pull you aside, or take you to his room, and say he needed your help again. That it was “important.”That he loved his girlfriend too much to risk losing her.

Nicholas was a person that could get angry very quickly. When things didn’t go his way, he would be frustrated or get mad quick and needed a way to blow off steam fast.

Eventually, he started using you as a stress-reliever.

Whenever Nicholas felt bored, frustrated, or just needed to “relax,” he’d call you into his room. He’d claim it was harmless but he needed your help to blow off steam.

“You wouldn’t want to ruin the only family you have, would you?” He would say.

It’s not like you wanted him to continue with what he was doing— but sometimes, just, sometimes, you found yourself craving it. Craving him. Like a classic horny virgin, just so desperately waiting for the next time he’d teach you something new. You hated yourself for it, for wanting him like this, especially knowing that with each time you allowed him closer, you were indirectly betraying the only family you had ever known. But in those moments, as much as you tried, you couldn’t stop yourself. The minute he touched you, you melted— You couldn’t deny the way you looked forward to him, even as the guilt was suffocating you immensely.

Cooper, on the other hand, played the part of the sweet, caring brother. He didn’t seem to know the full extent of what went down between you and Nicholas, but you could tell he had an idea. He’d glance at you sometimes, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite name— concern, guilt, maybe even jealousy. He’d ask if you were okay, with his angelic gentle tone that he has, but his questions only made you more anxious.

Even with Cooper, things didn’t feel entirely “brother-like.” His glances always lingered on you a moment too long, his touch lingering in ways that felt just a bit too intimate, like when his fingers brushed yours at the dinner table when you asked him to pass the bread. And that tension. That unspoken tension between the two of you that rises whenever you are left in a room together, alone.

You felt trapped by the both of them. Mentally, physically, emotionally….

The lines between right and wrong started to blur for you everyday and you couldn’t think right. You just kept sinking deeper and deeper into their control— intentionally or unintentionally.

You found yourself sitting close to Nicholas again— you could feel his fingers trail down your arm, his breath warm against your skin. You wanted to get away, you knew you had to get away, but you couldn’t… It was like he had you under some kind of unspoken spell that couldn’t be broken. He was leaning in, looking at your lips, about to do what you think he was about to do when—

The door flew open.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

“Hey—oh,” Cooper’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. He froze in the doorway, his expression shifting from surprise to something unreadable.

Nick jerked back, his jaw clenching as he turned to glare at his younger brother. “What the hell are you doing?”

Cooper blinked, recovering quickly. “I was going to ask her if she wanted to watch a movie,” he said, his tone calm but his eyes flickering between the two of you. “But I can see I interrupted something.”

“You think?” Nick snapped.

Your heart was racing a million miles an hour. “I—I was just heading to bed,” you stammered, trying to escape the situation.

Cooper didn’t budge from the doorway, he just kept glaring, eyes locked on Nick’s. “Maybe you should give her some space, Nicholas. You know, let her breathe for once.”

You didn’t expect Cooper to say that. At all.

You could feel how mad Nick was getting. This wasn’t good.

“Stay out of it, Coop. This doesn’t concern you.”

“It does when you’re acting like a—” Cooper stopped himself, glancing at your innocent face before finishing. “Just… back off, okay?”

Nick took a step toward his brother.. “You don’t tell me what to do. Got it?”

“Someone has to,” Cooper shot back, his calm demeanor cracking. “She’s not your plaything, Nicholas.”

What was happening wasn’t good and you needed to figure out a way to stop this before things escalated. You quickly stepped between them before things could escalate.

“Stop it—both of you,” you said, your voice shaking but firm. “I don’t want any of this. I’m going to my room.”

You rushed out of there as soon as possible. You couldn’t take whatever “this” was. It was just too much for you to handle.

Nick watched you leave as you left his room, turning from frustrated to something softer. Sadder. But only for a brief moment before hardening his expression to bitter ‘ol Nicholas again. “Fine. Whatever,” he muttered, dropping into the chair beside his bed.

He shot a glance at Cooper, waving him off lazily.

“You can go now, too.”

Cooper gave Nick one last angry glance before he turned to leave.

As he stepped into the hallway, he could see that your door was slightly open and he peeked through that little space to see you sitting on the edge of your bed, holding yourself.

Hesitant at first, but he knocks lightly on your door and steps inside. “Hey,” he said, his voice gentler than ever. “You okay?”

You nodded, though your hands were still trembling. “I’m fine. Thanks for… everything.”

He gave you a small smile. “Someone has to look out for you.”

Before you could respond, he hesitated, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. “If you ever need anything, just… let me know, okay?”

You nodded again, not adding anything else. He turned and quietly closed the door behind him.

When you were left alone with your thoughts, you were trying to process everything that just happened. What did just happen? In fact, what HAS been happening? I mean— this is not like you at all! You’re a good girl, like mom and dad say. You have always been a good girl… Kissing your step brother? Nicholas—? Seriously? The boy who gets off on torturing and teasing his stepsister? He doesn’t even really like you! He just uses you— why are you STILL letting him get close to you like that and then let him treat you like trash the rest of the time? And what was that fight? Over YOU? No way. This all feels like a very, VERY bad dream that you need to wake up from.

You sighed and collapsed onto your bed, burying your face in your hands.

Just sleep it off… just… sleep… it… off.

Things will be normal tomorrow…. Right?

For @blackynsupremacy 🙊💋

[thethingswedotomorrow]

I love the Good Omens 'Night at Crowley's Flat' trope where after stopping the apocalypse in season 1, they go to Crowley's Flat and talk and kiss and fall in love and have a peaceful night, I do.

BUT

What if the night became 'The Night an Angel and a Demon Get Insanely Drunk and Teach Each Other How to Act'

Because honestly

They go to the flat, and ALL they know is they are going to have to swap themselves if they want to survive and finally be free from Heaven and Hell

But they have absolutely NO clue how to pull it off successfully

Sure, they know each other in and out.

Aziraphale has Crowley's eye color committed to memory (and also to paper, since Aziraphale spent 4-5 years in the late 80s trying to find a craft store in London that could help him do the color justice)

Crowley could find his angel in a crowd of millions (and not even just because only one single person in that crowd would be dressed in that ridiculous shade of tartan)

BUT they know they have to truly get this right, down to the exact detail.

So, naturally, they start by promptly opening the closest bottle of scotch that Crowley had available

Crowley was convinced this would be the easiest thing they've ever done

"Only you, Angel, would find a way to worry yourself to death AFTER stopping an apocalypse"

They begin with the easy part, switching corporations and clothing.

It was easy. Until Aziraphale realized he had to actually physically move in the very, very tight pants Crowley prefers.

The first three times he tries walking, he falls face down. And each time, realizes how it's equally hard to get back up again.

Not to mention that Crowley's corporation had learned that after 6000 years, it didn't really need all those vertebrae and bones since he never used them anyways

So now Aziraphale is just laying on the floor in terribly tight pants, very confused on how Crowley has managed all this time

(Crowley is also on the floor, having dropped there laughing after the 2nd attempt)

After they both get up (one much faster than the other) Crowley tries coaching the angel on how to walk like him

Until Crowley realizes he doesn't actually know how he walks, he just sort of wills himself forward and hopes his limbs keep up with him along the way

Eventually, after enough drinks, they settle on a technique called "Just pretend all your limbs are snakes. And you're a snake. Honestly, just as snake-y as you can manage, Angel."

Aziraphale, as difficult as this was for him, figures out that he may have gotten the easy side of this situation here. Crowley very much disagrees.

"Once an Angel, well, definitely not always an Angel, but close enough right?"

He very quickly realizes he may be wrong when Aziraphale asks Crowley to copy his walk

"Dear Lord Crowley, it cannot be that hard. You simply have to walk in a straight line"

It was indeed that hard.

Crowley has all his vertebrae now, but no knowledge of how they should be used

He tries to hold his hands behind his back and march forward, walking in what he thinks is probably, on some plane of reality, maybe a straight line

He's convinced that he's the perfect image of a stereotypical angel, head held high, an air of 'holier than thou' surrounding him

When Crowley asks Aziraphale, he only says, "Well, I suppose it will have to do for now."

Internally, Aziraphale thinks of the fact that Crowley looked identical to a bumbling penguin walking on ice.

When Crowly sits down, very pleased with himself for an impeccable performance ("As always, Angel. I've still got it." Aziraphale uncaps the vodka and drinks straight from the bottle, just staring into the distance.

He has just realized that their existence hinges on whether Crowley can figure out how to sit on a chair like a proper being with appendages and a spine.

And the odds are not in their favor, if they way the demon is sprawled out on the couch (reminding Aziraphale suddenly of a very well-done noodle, and suddenly he's starting to wonder if humans had the right idea with stress eating) is any indication

Crowley announces that he refuses to utter the words tickety boo, even if faced with destruction

"Honestly I think I'd rather have the holy water at that point" "Crowley." "I swear you just make sounds up sometimes, those aren't even real words"

4 bottles (and a very large order of takeout) later, they've got the act down well enough that it's starting to weird Crowley out

"Angel, seriously, enough with the nose. When have I ever done that with my nose? Exactly zero amount of times. I'm not a rabbit"

2 bottles later and Aziraphale has miracled Harry the Rabbit into the flat for a reason they can't quite remember

But they've got music playing from somewhere in the corner, and plenty of drinks, and the night goes on into the morning, and then they're sobering up and marching out for the most dramatic acting of their lives

And the world hasn't ended yet, so they'll probably be fine. Probably.

[httpsaki]

physical touch with haikyuu ｡⁠*ﾟ

fluff | sfw

gn!reader | established relationship

warnings: mild profanity

✧ unexplainable close proximity with very odd positions

he doesn't hate physical touch, but he's not totally crazy about it either. though he can't deny, there are moments when he really does crave your touch. so here you are, met with his most bizarre ways of saying, "i want you to pay attention to me but i can't say it out loud because it's embarrassing so you should just know." with his legs on your lap or vice versa, his head resting on your back, brushing your knuckles while walking, or even just making his knees or thighs touch yours while sitting on the floor.

ukai, kenma, aone, sakusa, tsukishima, shirabu, kageyama, kyotani, suna, kunimi

✧ his hands all over you

holding hands, drawing circles on your skin, hands on your shoulders, hands on your thigh, hands on your waist, hands on your cheeks, wherever. not like you could complain, his hands on your body just leaves you with a rare sensation, warmth, and the assurance that you are his. he knows how crazy you are for his touch, and oh, just how much he loves having his world at the palm of his hands.

yamaguchi, semi, yaku, kindaichi, ushijima, daichi, hanamaki, kita

✧ hugs—and so much of them

he likes having you in a tight embrace. trapped in each other's arms soaking up on each other's undying love for each other as you wait for the other to let go (plot twist: neither of you wants to). front hugs, back hugs, side hugs, bear hugs, hugs while you're lying on the bed or couch, you name it. when he just holds you in his arms, it's as if you forget about all of your burdens. he just has one favor to ask you: don't you go away just yet.

asahi, lev, takeda, akaashi, osamu, ennoshita, futakuchi, aran, komori

✧ kisses everywhere that sweeps you off your feet

oh he just loves to feel you melting as soon as his lips crash onto yours. he loves the taste of your lips, but he just loves his lips on you in general. he likes planting kisses all over your face and neck, sometimes even marking your skin. from peppery smooches to a long, passionate kiss—heck, he'll do so much more. he would give you the world if you'd just ask. most times he'd keep this intimacy private, though, there are times when he wouldn't be afraid to kiss you in front of people watching; just so they know who you belong to.

sugawara, tanaka, iwaizumi, konoha, terushima, daishou, yahaba, kuroo

✧ fuck all that, you are never escaping his touch even if you wished

this man is the living, breathing definition of physical touch. he is never letting you go, not now that you're finally right there by his fingertips. cuddles? public display of attention? just glued onto your skin in general? hell yeah, he loves that. he loves how close you are to him at the moment, matter fact he would beg to be this close to you all the time. clinging onto you is his way of showing the world that there is nothing that could break you both apart. it's gotten to the point where your skin feels weird whenever he's not touching you in one way or another. though, you wouldn't want it any other way.

oikawa, matsukawa, bokuto, hinata, kogane, tendou, goshiki, nishinoya, atsumu

[cr4yolaas]

how do they love you? — various jjk men

tags: fluff, gender neutral reader, some are a little ooc 😓, not proofread

notes: urghh my layout is all over the place … i can’t stick to one hc format </3

𝜗𝜚 nanami kento loves you through gentle reminders. he has a tendency to litter notes and messages, both verbal and physical, here and there. there’s a collection of sticky notes on the fridge informing you that your bento for the day is in the fridge. there’s various text messages from him reminding you to attend the appointment you told him about 2 months ago. in the morning, he’ll whisper soft words against your forehead, telling you that you have a meeting in the afternoon. he knows how much it upsets you to forget something, whether it’s your water or an event you’d been patiently awaiting for weeks. thus, he makes it a habit to exterminate that issue for you.

𝜗𝜚 gojo satoru loves you in a clingy, boyish manner. he longs to have you by his side at all times, even if the situation isn’t the most favorable. when walking next to you, he’s always sure to have his fingers intertwined with yours, as if fearful you’ll drift away if he doesn’t hold on. late nights are spent on the couch laying atop each other, your limbs melding into one warm and indescribable mass. he loves feeling your skin against his, for it serves as a reminder of your presence.

𝜗𝜚 toji fushiguro doesn’t often show his love, but it’s evident in the lengths he goes for you. affection doesn’t come as easily for him. instead, whatever love he has meddles in the bottom of his lungs, patiently awaiting its release that likely won’t ever arrive. he’s consistent with this — very rarely does he say “i love you” or any similar phrase, and he isn’t too large on grand displays of affection. but even still, he’ll do just about anything to get what you want and deserve. even if it means spending the entirety of his savings, or if it means spending hours away from home, he’ll always ensure your happiness.

𝜗𝜚 geto suguru shows his love simply by being himself around you. it’s gradual, at first — he’ll speak a little bit more, hesitate a little bit less, and little by little, he begins to chip away at whatever walls he’s built around himself. it evolves rather rapidly after that. he’s telling you about every thought that crosses your mind, and he’ll share the occasional odd joke here and there. he’s a bit more sassy, too — all tell tale signs of his devotion to you.

𝜗𝜚 choso kamo isn’t quite sure how to love you properly, but he tries to do a bit of everything. yuuji had recommended him various ideas — dates, gifts, an abundance of grand gestures — and choso wasn’t quite sure which one you would like the most, so he picked all of them. he’s awkward about it, at first. his initiation skills aren’t very exceptional. but he’s genuine with each action, whether it’s showing up to your door with a bouquet thats larger than his face or taking you out to the art museum. other weeks, he’ll propose a movie night at your house or he’ll cook you a meal (which, unfortunately, doesn’t go too well). he loves trying every newfound gesture as much as he loves you.