#i want to just erase it all and pretend it never happened
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letting go.
read part one here â the alternate, happy ending.
warnings: heavy angst
word count: 2883
summary: Alastor navigates the weeks following his decision to run from his feelings for youâbut has he realized his mistake too late?
alastor x gn!reader. we're going to simply ignore the concept that lilith may appear in future canon for the plot, okay? okay. hope i didn't make this too angsty that it sounds forced, but alas, alastor is nothing but a giant edgelord; so maybe it fits! i struggled a bit with making the ending not so cliché but our beloved radio demon needs the character development. hope you all enjoy (pain and suffering)!
And so, you did as Alastor said.
You moved on.
If Alastor wanted to forget everything that happened between you two that night, then you would allow him the comfort of forgetting it as well.
At first, there had been disappointment. A quiet, aching pain that settled in your chest as you stared at the note he left behind. It was as if the air had been sucked from the room, leaving only silence and the dull throb of betrayal. He had spilled his soul to you that night, clung to you like you were his last tether to reality, and yet, by morning, he erased it all as if it were a mistake.
Then, that disappointment hardened. Turned sharp, defensive. If he could pretend none of it mattered, then you could easily do the same. You could rebuild your walls, strengthen them, reinforce them with the anger that simmered beneath the surface. Because it wasn't just the rejection that stungâit was the ease with which he had discarded you, the way he carried on as though that night had never happened at all.
So, you played your part. You acted as if his desperate confessions, his trembling hands, his broken voice had been nothing more than a figment of a dream long since forgotten. You met his indifference with your own; if he could act as if it meant nothing, then so could you.Â
And Alastor? Well, he certainly seemed unaffected. He reverted back to the same charming, grinning menace he had always been. He still walked the halls of the hotel, still indulged in his morning coffee (that you did not make anymore), still meddled in the affairs of others with a tune in his voice and a glint in his eye. If anything, he was more insufferable than ever, as if to prove a point. And so, you let him be.
But something had shifted between you.
You were colder now, your smiles towards him forced, your voice lacking its usual fondness. Your presence, once light and easy, now carried a weightâa distant lull that he had to pretend not to notice. And for all his efforts to carry on as normal, it stung. Every clipped response, every glance that no longer lingered, every morning you passed him by without so much as a word felt like another nail driven into his coffin.
But he bore it.
He had made this choice. He had pushed you away. And so, Alastor swallowed the anguish that pressed against his chest, forcing himself to believe that this was for the best. He kept his peace, and in doing so, protected yours. You should be relieved for such a selfless sacrifice!
Yet, no matter how often he repeated this mantra to himself, the pain never dulled. It settled deep in his bones, persistent and gnawing, whispering doubts he refused to entertain. He told himself that this was the right course, that he was merely ensuring neither of you suffered needlessly. But if that were true, why did it feel like this was the worst suffering he had ever endured?
Sleep had not come easy to him since that fateful night. Not since he allowed himself to collapse into your arms, to sink into the affection he had no right to claim. He had lived in solitude like it was second nature, but now, in the dead of night, he found himself haunted by the ghost of your touch. The way your fingers had threaded through his hair, pointed claws gently scratching his scalp in slow, soothing strokesâit had burned into his memory, a sensation he could still feel if he let himself think too long.
It was absolute torment.
But he went through with it, wearing a carefully crafted mask of a smile on his face as he continued on about his days, pretending he didnât completely ruin himself with one foolish choice. He ran awayânot just from you, but from the love that had threatened to consume him, from the fear of something he could not control. And now, that choice had become his greatest woe, an agony that festered with every moment spent without you.
A week passed since your night together. That's when Lucifer arrived.
At first, Alastor despised him, but not for the reasons he would later come to understand. Lucifer was a threatâa presence far more powerful than any other being in the hotel. The mere sight of him lounging around, making himself at home in Charlieâs project, set Alastorâs teeth on edge. But what truly unsettled him wasnât Lucifer himself.
It was you.
Because suddenly, he was sitting beside you on the couch. He was the one enjoying quiet evenings with you in the library, laughing softly at whatever book you had convinced him to read. He was the one passing you your morning tea, the way you had once done for Alastor.
And unlike Alastor, Lucifer wasnât hiding anything.
The king of Hell had lost his queen, and in the hollow space Lilith had left behind, he had found comfort in you. And Alastor had to watch, day after day, as Lucifer made no attempt to hide his affections. He gazed at you with a softness Alastor had never allowed himself to show. He let his fingers linger when he passed you a cup. He said your name with such reverence it made Alastorâs stomach churn uncomfortably anytime he heard it.
And you? You didnât shy away from it.
No, you leaned into it. Into him.
Alastor tried to convince himself it didnât matter. That it was nothing. That you were nothing to him. But then, a laughâyour laughârang through the lobby, bright and unburdened as Lucifer whispered something in your ear. And Alastor felt it. The sharp, sickening twist of jealousy. The way it soured his entire mood, left his fingers twitching at his sides, his usually pristine control fraying at the seams.
More weeks passed, and suddenly, it was everywhere.
The way you looked at Lucifer. The way you let him touch you so effortlessly, so casually, as if he had always been the one meant to hold you. The way you curled into him on the couch, nestled against his chest, his arm draped over your shoulders like a claim Alastor had never dared to make. And then, one eveningâthe final blow.
He hadn't meant to see it. Hadn't wanted to see it. But fate, cruel and relentless, had different plans.
Hidden away in the shadows, Alastor watched as you two curled up on the library's loveseat, a book dangling from your loose fingers as Lucifer quietly snored in your embrace. Alastor tried to convince himself it was accidental, that you had subconsciously drifted toward Lucifer in your sleep. But then, as you sighed into him, pressing closer with a sleepy smile, Alastor knewâreally knew.
The choice he made was a mistake.
His hands curled into tight fists at his sides, his breath caught in his throat. His sleep-deprived eyes flickered, pupils shifting into sharp, jagged radio dials as he struggled to keep himself still, to remain unseen. He should leave. Should tear his gaze away from the sight of your flushed cheeks, your chest rising delicately as you nuzzled deeper into Lucifer, the way Alastor dreamed you would hold him.
He had to remind himself; you did hold him like that. Once. And it was all his fault you would never hold him againâbecause he had been too scared to admit that, for the first time in his undead life, he valued someone above himself. There was no denying itâLucifer had taken his place, not just in the hotel, not just in the spaces where Alastor once sat beside you, but in your heart.
And oh, how it ruined him.
Alastor didn't know why he was doing this, standing outside your hotel door with a bouquet in hand, unsure if this was a feeble attempt to win you back or a desperate bid for absolution. He spent weeks watching you slip further and further away, his own self-imposed exile turning into an unbearable prison. Every moment spent seeing you in Luciferâs arms had been another crack in the fragile wall he built around himself.
But now, here he was, gripping the bouquet so tightly the stems threatened to snap, swallowing down the unease rising in his throat. He didn't know what he would say, didn't know if this was meant to repair what was broken or simply acknowledge that he had broken it in the first place. All he knew was that he had to speak to youâhad to bridge the gap he created before it consumed him entirely.
The door creaked open, and there you stood, surprise flickering in your expression at the sight of himâat the sight of the flowers.
Alastor forced himself to straighten, his usual confidence faltering beneath the weight of this moment. "Hello, my dear," he said, voice uncharacteristically measured and grin forcibly wide, betraying none of the frantic thoughts racing through his mind.
But instead of scowling or sending him away, you simply smiled.
You opened the door with an gentle look, one that made Alastor stiffen in surprise. You greeted him warmly, as if his presence was neither unexpected nor unwelcome, as if he hadn't shattered something between you just a few weeks ago. He hesitated, the bouquet clutched tightly in his hands. You werenât cursing at him. You werenât demanding him to leave.Â
"Why are you stopping by, Alastor?" you asked, your voice light as a feather.
His throat felt dry, and before he could stop himself, he blurted out: "I need to talk to you."
You nodded slowly, gaze lowering to the flowers in his hands before taking them delicately, cradling them with care. "Theyâre lovely. Thank you."
He blinked, momentarily thrown off by your graciousness. He prepared himself for hostility, for icy rejection, for words laced with venom and hurt. But you simply stepped aside, allowing him in.
He entered cautiously, his shoulders tense, his fingers twitching at his sides as his gaze swept across the suite. The last time he was here, he had been cradled in your arms, clinging to you like a drowning man desperate for air. Now, in the bright light of Hell, it was different. Warmer. Lived-in.
His eyes landed on you againâon the way you moved so easily, placing the bouquet down on the counter, filling the kettle to make him coffee. He watched in silent awe, unable to tear his gaze away as you moved with practiced ease, as if nothing had changed between you. As if this were any other morning.
He could feel it now. Hope. Rising in his chest like an unbearable swell, thrumming beneath his skin like a song waiting to break free. Perhaps he had been foolish. Perhaps it wasnât too late. Perhapsâperhapsâthis was a sign.
Then, you poured the drink, no sugar, piping hot, and handed it to him with a small, effortless smile.
Just the way he liked it.
His mind reeled, spinning wildly between the past and present, between what was and what could have been. You still remembered. Still knew his preferences down to the very detail. That had to mean something, didnât it? That had to be a sign that, somewhere in that heart of yours, you still held some sort of feelings for him, right?
He wanted to believe itâneeded to. And as you sat down across from him, your eyes unjudging and bright, he opened his mouth to say anything that would reveal the tremendous amount of pining that plagued him ever since you had shown up to this very hotel.
But then, in the midst of his frantic, desperate grasp for something to hold onto, his eyes strayed past youâpast your waiting expression, past the bouquet on the counter, past the hopeful delusionsâuntil they landed on a single frame resting on your bedside table.
The very bedside table where he had placed his note.
A picture of you and Lucifer, your pursed lips placed upon his rosy cheek as he grinned at the camera, now took up the space where his note used to be.
You looked happy. In love.
Something inside him clicked into place. A realization so heavy it nearly knocked the breath from his lungs. His eyes flickered back to you, to your curious expression, calm and gentle. You were not kind because of himâyou were kind because you were happy. Because Luciferâs love had softened you, had turned you into something Alastor had spent his entire life running from.
Someone in love.
His lips parted, but only three words escaped: "You're spoken for?"
You blinked, surprised that those were his first words, but you followed his gaze to the picture frame. Your expression softened, fondness creeping into your eyes as you turned back to him.
"Yes, I am."
And yet, here Alastor was, holding the cup of coffee you made him like it was proof that he still held your heart, a fool grasping at something that had already slipped through his fingers.
You were so close, yet so far. Within reach, yet untouchable. He had once been the one you held, the one you whispered to in the dark, the one who had been allowed to see you in the most vulnerable, quiet moments of the night. But now, you stood before him, softenedânot by his love, but by Luciferâs love.
And that was the difference.
Lucifer had done what Alastor never couldâhe had made you happy. Genuinely, effortlessly happy. Not in fleeting moments, not in carefully stolen seconds, but in a way that radiated from you, from the warmth in your eyes to the empathy in your voice. You had moved on.
And for once in Alastor's life, he felt truly defeated. But it wasn't what he expectedâhe expected defeat to feel suffocating, its taste vile in his mouth as it flooded his senses. But all he felt now was emptiness, a hollow, deep awareness that he lost the moment to ever make you his. As you carefully watched him, he exhaled deeply, letting himself sink into the lonely abyss of heartbreak. He almost disappeared into its shadow, lost in the heaviness of his own sorrowâuntil a gentle weight pressed against his empty hand. His eyes fluttered open, and there you were, your fingers resting gently atop his. As your gaze met his, you offered him a sad, knowing smile.Â
And though his heart was still scattered around his chest like broken glass, there was an unexpected comfort blooming beneath the cracks from your smileâan unfamiliar understanding that lessened the force of his grief. He expected only bitterness to fill his heart, the sting of regret and nothing more, but instead, in your presence, in your mercy, he found something lighter. His smile turned genuine as he exhaled deeply, letting the weight of his heartache settle into something he could finally bear. "...I'm happy for you, cher."
Your grin widened, eyes crinkling at the corners as you beamed at him, radiant and warm. It was the most dazzling expression he had ever seen. He held the image in his mind, committing to memory the way your eyes sparkled with pure joy. "Thank you, Alastor, honestly." You paused for a moment, your soft hands still holding his as you sighed. "Whatever we had, whatever happened between usâI donât hold any bad feelings towards it anymore."
Alastor let out a deep exhale, his shoulders relaxing as he nodded. "I'm truly sorry. For... whatever turmoil I may have caused you. I know I haven't been the most... considerate, these past few weeks."
You gave him an impish look, your laughter ringing out in the space around Alastor, surrounding him like a tight embrace. "Considerate? When has the Radio Demon ever been considerate?"
Your toothy grin seemed to ease the stinging in his chest, the sharp ache dulling as you joked with him like old times. Alastor let out a breath he didnât realized he was holding, shaking his head before slipping into the rhythm of your banter. It was effortlessâso natural that, for a fleeting moment, it felt as if nothing had changed at all. And soon enough, the two of you had fallen into habit, laughter filling the space between you, comforting and familiar.
And in that moment, as he took in the way happiness radiated from you, Alastor felt a shift deep within him. Loveâa notion he once had dismissed as weakânow seemed like the most powerful force of all. Because if it could make you shine like this, if it could bring that warmth to your smile, then perhaps it wasnât something to scoff at. Even if you now belonged to another, you had still offered him kindness. Even if it wasnât by your side as he had hoped for, you still offered him a place in your life despite everything. And for that, he was truly grateful.
So, with a deep exhale and a quiet acceptance settling over him, he let himself smile. Not the forced, hollow grin of before, but something real. Something gentle. "Love suits you, my dear," he murmured at last, his voice lighter than it had been in weeks. "It always has."
my first ever tag list!! screaming!! @sirens-and-moonflowers @diffidentphantom @catticora
#i guess this could be seen as a happy ending because you and alastor become friends again...#time to write the happy ending#alastor#hazbin hotel#hazbin alastor#alastor hazbin hotel#alastor x you#alastor x reader#angst#oneshot
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#im going to assume that the fact my life is kind of falling apart rn is the main reason why im. kind of in a creative rut rn#i got hit w the very sudden feeling of ''oh my god the thing i just dedicated the past year of my life to is utter horseshit'' and.#not a great feeling to have! ngl#i think thats the reason ive been struggling to get back to working on it#(i mean. aside from the fact that i could literally lose my job any day now. and the fact that i cant secure a new one anytime soon)#idk i just. i truly in my heart thought i had something good going here#and the more i look at it the more i hate it#idk. maybe i made the right call to take a break thru the end of the year#go into it w fresh eyes in 2025#but idek if thatll make a difference#i just. am starting to vehemently despise anything i create that im not being paid for#and it really really sucks. bc art is the one joy i have in the face of the shittiest day job#i want to just erase it all and pretend it never happened#skip speaks
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DAY-SHIFT. (p. sh)
â part one here! After finding out that your boss has seen, heard, and instructed you through some pleasurable nights while parading around as a faceless cam-boy, you decide that your best course of action is to: call out sick. use vacation days. avoid Park Sunghoon at all costs. Unfortunately, ten days doesnât appear to be nearly enough time to erase whatâs happened, and Sunghoon refuses to be avoided. or the one where sunghoon pretends that he isnât an anxious mess over accidentally exposing himself and you just so happen to have a lot of fucking empathy.Â
minors dniÂ
PAIRING â boss / cam boy!sunghoon x afab reader Â
WORDCOUNTâ 14.5kÂ
CONTENTâ forbidden office romance kind of, smidge of angst if ur sensitive, mentions of predatory behavior from sunghoon, he is more desperate than he is dominant, just the way we like it.
NOTE â bro im so sorry this took way too long to write, it also is way longer than it's supposed to be. but yknow. i had to do him right lmfao. NOT PROOF READ.
nsfw tags under cut
nsfw tagsâ perverted sunghoon, heavy petting, making out, foreplay on a chair lol, desk sex, very intimate shit ok? ok., pussy eating, jerking off, finger fucking, fingers-in-mouth antics, gagging, implications of something more than just an office fling, unprotected sex, he fills you UP!!! YIPEE!!!Â
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Avoidance.
That is the only way you know out of any awkward or unsavory situation. Avoid, avoid, avoid. Find a new job, change your name, dye your hairâ question all of your life choices up to this point.
Itâs the fact that never in your life have you had an interest in live sex cams. It was always just a porn video or a nice erotic novel for you. Sometimes curiosity gets the best of you though, like it does all people, and itâs not like you thought anyone would ever know who you are or catch you in the act of feeding into your curiosities.Â
The one time you ever navigated to the live camera feed on your favorite porn site did shift your sexual appetite a little bit. A whole new world of seeing exactly what you want without needing to search for far too long for that perfect videoâŠfor a cost, of course.
You made good money already, and itâs not like you werenât going for that promotion at the time either. You thought, why not? Why not pay a pretty, faceless man for some anonymous jerking off and move on with your life?Â
The one time you found something to satiate the late night body-cravings, the point of pleasure ended up beingâŠyour boss?
Small world? Miniscule, fucking tiny little world.Â
For days you wondered if Sunghoonâs text to you was just a coincidence. After all, the faceless man on screen didnât say a word to you after you uttered the name of your boss. Even if he directly said your name. Even if Park Sunghoon uttered your false name at work.Â
Consistent back and forth in your head. From, âNo, how could that even be possible? No way is it him.â to âbut Mr.Park started being weird after the first call, he used both names, he played off of the boss/employee dynamic.â
Youâre going crazy as you send another email to your department, apologizing for taking so many days off but not truly apologetic. Itâs been ten days now and Sunghoon has yet to text you again.Â
That little âCan we talk?â can be heard in your head in his voice. Only now recognizing how clear and unique it truly is when he does speak. You try not to realize how similar the cam-boy sounded to him. Only connecting the dots when they force you to do it, really. You still try to convince yourself that the text was about firing you, given his actions at work that very same day.Â
Maybe he was avoiding you because he felt awful about needing to fire you?Â
Maybe he sent that text message to start the process of pushing you out?Â
After all, itâs still very difficult to imagine Park Sunghoon having a cock that nice, or cum in that amount. Given, itâs not like you ever thought about him jerking off or anything, itâs justâ
You donât fucking know. Your brain is a mess of shaking anxiety and echoes of sexual frustrations and moans.Â
You were refunded your money. He texted after the session. He said your name. Itâs him, isnât it?
You refuse to fucking find out.
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From:...[ [email protected] ]
CC:...[ [email protected] ]
BCC:...
Subject: Time off Request: Rejected. Insufficient PTO.
[insert your name here],
The time you have requested from the 27th to the 3rd has been rejected due to insufficient hours. As of last Thursday, you are no longer meeting the minimum hour requirement as a full-time employee. Your PTO is at 0 hours and 00 minutes and you now have three unexcused absences. Please return tomorrow with a signed order or note that exempts you from work. If you move forward without returning to the building, this will be grounds for termination. Please review the company handbook and job abandonment guidelines.Â
Additionally, COO Lee, myself, and Division manager Park will be scheduling a meeting with you in the upcoming days, failure to appear will result in immediate termination.
Thank you,
HR
Well, fuck. You knew the time to avoid this would dry up, and this ten day hideaway to fake your death didnât quite pan out.
Devastating, truly, that you have to walk through those doors with the same legs your boss may or may not have seen spread open for him through a grainy webcam image. Horrifying, that you have to look him in the eye and explain that you really were sick for the past ten days, that you definitely were not hiding the shame of your sexual desires.
The worst part about all of this? Not just the embarrassment but the fact thatâŠyou liked it. On that night, had he admitted it was him, you may not have ended the call yourself. It felt like it added some danger to your arousal at the time. Which, naturally, makes you more embarrassed now. Mostly because, at worst if that was Mr.Park, it was predatory. At best though? You very well may have consented.
But the what ifs donât matter now. The only thing that matters is forcing yourself through the awkwardness of being at work after avoiding it for so long already.
Fortunately for you though, work isâŠweirdly normal. In fact, no one acts like youâve missed ten days at all. You are greeted by the usual co-workers, you sit down at your desk and can log in as usual, and there are no warning emails or invitations for what would be considered a meeting of termination either.Â
The day goes by just fine, suspiciously so. Sunghoon, though youâre avoiding him at the moment, doesnât appear to be too out of character either. At one point, you were forced to drop corrected paper work off in his office, and he gave you the same usual and small âThank youâ before you stepped out with your legs threatening to buckle.Â
Then again, his âcasualâ appreciation could just be your mind playing positive little tricks on you. Maybe it wasnât casual at all. Maybe that little uncharacteristic breath afterwards isnât just in your head. You didnât make eye contact with him during that brief moment, and you did rush out quite quickly so you wouldnât really know. However, in the deepest part of your brain his voice really does match the one who said all those dirty things to you.Â
Maybe youâre still overreacting.
Or maybe you dreamed all of this up.Â
You choose to remain unaware of the awkwardness around you solely because everything else is normal. Deep, deep down, you know. But youâre not giving that truth a chance to thrive or run your brain anymore.
And just as the day comes to an end, youâre actually feeling better. Anxiety is draining out of you, fear and embarrassment sit dormant in some hidden part of your brain over the small possibility of virtually fucking your boss. It seems youâve let this work day clear up all of that fear in your head.
You were wrong, right? It wasnât him, right? Heâd have tried to defend himself by now. What boss wouldnât be absolutely terrified that youâd report him, anyway? After all of that?
You actually feel a little dumb at the possibility of Mr. Park ever wanting you sexually, or ever even wanting to speak to you in that way. Asking to see your pussy? Telling you how to touch it? No, thatâs definitely not him. Couldnât be him.Â
And your eyes do stray after a little while. Just to steal glimpses into his office, feeling relieved and weightless now that it appears your fears are over and finally understood. Doesnât change the fact that now when you look at him, you might be wildly fucking attracted to him. Because fuck, imagine if that was him. Youâre kind of forced to put his image to the faceless cam-boy now, not that you want to do that or anything. It justâŠyou canât really blame yourself for it.
You lend yourself a little laugh. As happy as you are that youâre able to convince yourself that itâs not Sunghoonâs cock youâve yearned for, you really wouldnât mind sleeping with someone as handsome as him.Â
Crazy how the lack of anxiety lets you think those types of things though, isnât it? When your brain is no longer fogged by fear or embarrassment, itâs like the clarity can sometimes be scarier simply because you donât know how true certain statements are. Even through all of that fear, maybe a part of you wished it was him.Â
Even with the weight on your shoulders lifted, in hindsight, maybe youâre even a little disappointed that it wasnât.Â
And, just as youâre preparing to clock out and head home with a big secret crush and a little pep in your step, you hear the familiar notification of an email. No problem, probably just a daily report or something.Â
From:...[ [email protected] ]
CC:...
BCC:...
Subject: Mandatory Advising
[insert your name here],
Please come to my office before you leave for the day to discuss your conduct as of late.Â
Thank you,
Park Sunghoon
Division Manager
000-000-0000 ext. 000
Well, double fuck. To think everything was fine despite you being well aware of that shit HR said to you previously?Â
You barely recognize how the email is sent directly to you from Mr. Park, not including HR or COO Lee. In fact, the anxiety wells up inside of you so quickly that you nearly have to dry heave a few times before taking a deep breath.Â
In your head, itâs not even about the web-cam session with a faceless man anymore. Your anxiety about that died the moment you successfully lied to yourself enough, now youâre genuinely just afraid youâll lose your job or that beloved promotion you worked so hard to be qualified for. You just had to let your anxiety run your life for the past ten days, didnât you? After all, skipping work to such an extent? Everyone had to have known that it was a lie eventually. Â
So, you stand to your feet, brush off your thighs, and attempt to keep your heart from pounding as you make your way to Mr. Parkâs office expecting to see HR, COO Lee, and a severance package on the desk waiting for your signature.Â
Instead, you walk in to just find your boss. Heâs looking at you as he normally would, eyes focused on his screen before glancing at you for a moment and nodding his head to one of the chairs in front of his desk.Â
âMr. Parkââ You start, nearly wincing at the way you say it because, well, you havenât said it since the night you had your pussy out on display. Itâs only natural to physically react, right?
âOne moment.â He says in a small voice, clicking a few times with the mouse as you watch the monitor light shine across his cheeks with each window he minimizes.Â
Itâs silent for a few moments as you awkwardly look around an office youâve been in countless times. His lights are always dimmed, the temperature is always comfortable. Youâre gonna miss this office, though itâs not your own. It was a nice, brief escape before all of this if youâre being honest.Â
âHow was work for you today?â He turns his attention to you, finally adjusting and rolling his chair to center himself in front of you behind his deskÂ
You pause at the question, unintentionally tilting your head at it like a puppy. âGood? Normal, I guess?âÂ
You watch as he nods with a tight-lipped expression, eyes falling to his desk as he takes in a deep and disappointed sounding breath.Â
âWell, thatâs one of us.â He huffs out, causing you to feel a bit confused with his tone. Is he beingâŠpassive aggressive? And when he snaps his eyes from his desk straight to your own confused gaze, you can almost sense a bit of something else in them compared to usual.Â
Not anger. Not disappointment.Â
He looks worried.
âEleven daysââ Sunghoon drones on with an exhausted tone, cutting himself off with another breath that shows you were right to assume his current displayed emotion. âYou have ignored my text messages for eleven days.âÂ
Youâre shocked by that because as far as youâre concerned, he has not texted you.
âWhat are youââ You furrow your brows at him, frantically pulling out your phone. âYou havenât texted me. See? The last one I got wasââ You take a second as you pull up his texts and remember the exact time he texted you. So late into the night, right afterâŠthat. Naturally, you silence yourself, afraid to say it out loud.
âOn the contrary,â Sunghoon denies your proof. âI texted from my personal phone.â
You hesitate again, looking down and noting the notifications under the tab of âmessage requests.â To be fucking fair though, you didnât even know that existed so you never really paid attention to it. Especially as you practically avoided your phone out of fear that heâd be texting you again.Â
You were thankful he didnât. That comforted you. Now though? Your comfort is replaced yet again with anxiety because, well, he texted you consistently after that night.
âOhââ You say quietly, seeing a glimpse of âPlease, let me call yââ in one of the messages.
âI didnât see those.â Quickly, you turn your screen off and shove your phone back into your pocket, nervously clasping your hands in front of you and looking to the floor.Â
âI will reiterate then.âÂ
You can hear the leather on his chair squeak against his expensive suit when he leans forward, both hands splayed out on his desk in a wide and intimidating stance in front of you.Â
âWaitââ You look around the office now. âIf youâre going to fire meâ shouldnât the others be here too?â
Sunghoon pulls back at that, narrowing his eyes before lending a very small and even more nervous chuckle.
âIâm not firing you. I told them Iâd take care of your sudden and, quite frankly, unhelpful vacation.âÂ
You look to the floor again, feeling scolded for your actions but having a genuine reason. If Sunghoon truly is aware of that reason for your absence, he understands too, right?
âI have been beyond inappropriate with you.â He blurts now, that same leather squeaking as he leans back again and looks away from you the moment you snap your head up. âI have reason to believe youâve not yet reported me, and Iâd like to ask for the opportunity to explain myself before you do.âÂ
You feel a chill wash over your whole body, cold sweat peaking right at your temples as you stare forward. Heâs being so professional about this, and that lie youâve convinced yourself of is showing itâs face as just that, a fucking lie.
So this is it?Â
So there it is? A semi-admittance that it was him? That little feeling in the back of your head that wishes it was diminishes within an instant. In fact, you narrow your eyes at him, your nose crinkles, and you feel frustration bubble up in your gut.
âSo you admit that it was you?â You ask, needing a full confirmation.Â
âYes.â Sunghoon sighs, leaning back somehow further, creating as much distance from you as possible before unintentionally rolling his eyes. Mostly due to the fact that he was stupid enough to let this happen, mostly to shame himself. âWhat I did was inappropriate and unacceptable. I didnât intend for this to ever happen.â
Now you feel a bitâŠpissed off.
Like? Oh, he didnât intend for this to happen? What? You mean he didnât intend to let you fucking find out! Well, as good as he is at playing the part of a slutty man on the internet, heâs not so good at acting in real life, now is he? Saying your false fucking name at work, saying your real name with his cock out?
What in the fuck are you supposed to do about this? Why is he giving you the ability to report him? Heâs the one with the power here. He could fire you now and bury the information if he so pleased. After all, Heâs besties with COO Lee, right? That bitch in HR has an obsession with him too. Hell, everyone here loves the guy.Â
Youâre just a bottom of the barrel employee trying to work your way up. If you got him fired, surely heâd make damn sure you never work for a decent company like this one again. Additionally, you donât even want to report him.
Yeah, it was fucking weird that he just knew it was you and kept going. Super strange that he had to have known after the first call, only to ask to see you in the second one. Why does that turn you on in the midst of this anxiety induced spiral? Why the fuck is the idea of Park Sunghoon apologizing for masturbating to and for you so alluring?!Â
Sure, maybe itâs kind of nice knowing that someone of his status would ever find an interest in you, but it doesnât quite wash the frustration away. You have every right to question, and every right to be pissed off about it.Â
Still, in this quiet room, Sunghoon is stoic and all you can think about when you look at him is the way he said âif I were your boss iâdââ and the way he fucked his palm while saying it, implying he wanted it to be you while simultaneously knowing it was you watching.Â
Since fucking when did Mr. Park ever show a sexual interest in you? And if he did, why the fuck couldnât he have just been normal about it?
âThat was really fucked up, you know that?â You argue immediately, voice shaking at the speed of which your emotions shift. Your resolve isnât quite as clear as it probably should be. Perhaps you should report him, or maybe you already should have. But, itâs not like you accepted the truth until he demanded it of you.
You would have let it slide. Both of you could have pretended it never happened. You couldâve gone home and continued working, never paying a cam-boy again had Sunghoon not called you into this stupid, comfortable ass office.Â
âIn my defense, I was just doing my job. Though itâs my own fault for not telling you, my job here was at risk if you had found out.â
âYou made me talk about you.â You roll your eyes at him now, gaining the power and control over the conversation. âAnd you thought I wouldnât find out?! What? Did that get you off or something?â
âIââ Sunghoon stops himself from answering that question truthfully. He quickly tries to explain away the stutter instead. Never has he been scolded by an employee, but youâre well within your rights to do so. âI wasnât in my right mind. I never get called by name during these sessions and I apologize for having you say it.â
âAnd you want me to report you?â You raise a brow at him. âWant me to just storm right into HR and tell her how youâre a fucking pervert? Want me to tell her how you told me to repeat your name? To thank you for it? Is that really what you want?âÂ
Are you enjoying yourself a little too much? Maybe.
Sunghoon doesnât respond though, instead, he runs his hand through his hair and sighs from the stress welling up inside of him. He can only act calm and collected for so long, and itâs been eleven days already. He hates how hearing you say those words goes straight to his cock at a time like this, he hates even more how all of this could have been avoided if he had simply declined your second call.Â
But youâre not wrong. He is a pervert, and he did tell you to thank him for the pleasure you were getting from his voice and half image alone. At the time, he was so turned on he really just couldnât help himself. You fed his sexual appetite unknowingly and now this is the consequence of his action. Being a known pervert.
Is it what he wants though? To be reported? Humiliated?
Fuck.
Arguably, just having you humiliate him like this is enough. Drives him crazy, really. Whether it be from arousal or guilt, or both.Â
And for the first time since you started working here, you see him for what he truly is. A strong man to an extent, but heâs crumbling under his own mistake and it makes you wonder just how far he wouldâve taken it had you not found out.Â
âAnd what if I didnât realize who I was fucking myself for?â You glare. âWould you have asked for more? Avoided me here even more? Would you have declined my application for the assistant position because you canât come to terms with the fact that youâre a fucking pervert?!â
Sunghoon raises his hands in defense.Â
âPleaseââ His voice sounds panicked. âPlease, keep your voice down.â
âAnswer the question, then. Just fucking own it at this point.â You throw your arms up now, letting them fall back down in a slap to your thighs. âWould you have made my work-life miserable just so you could watch me get off to you? Knowing the whole time? Would you have kept on with that boss slash employee shit just so it felt more real for you?âÂ
Staring forward at him, you watch him accept that everything youâre saying is likely exactly what would have happened. Maybe he really will try to own it. Which would be⊠a good thing if you decide to let your own resolve falter.
So fucking secretive, huh? An actual, real life degenerate? And itâs Sunghoon of all people?Â
âMaybeâŠâ Sunghoon trails off, making himself seem much smaller than he usually is on a day-to-day basis. âI mean, NoâI,â
Oh, heâs actually stuttering.
âAnd you want me to tell on you? You want me to fuck your life up?â You raise a brow. âAs if I didnât pay you to do it?â
In all honesty, aside from the anxiety and awkwardness, and despite never once thinking of Sunghoon too sexually, things have changed. Drastically. Especially after being confronted with this situation and heâs not intimidating you or using his power to control you. No, heâs giving you the power and quite frankly, you donât know what to do with it.Â
Are you basking in it? Absolutely. Is it nice to see him cower in front of you? In that big plush chair that costs more than your monthly income? Hell yeah.
But goddamn, had he approached you before all of this and asked for a date, or showed interest, you would have gladly partaken in a secret romance with him. Heâs intelligent, attractive, clean, and has money. Itâs not like you ever expected the guy to go home and fuck himself on camera.Â
You never thought he was the type to be so lonely either. Or so desperate, judging by how he acted during those two sessions. Arguably, you always wondered why there was never a ring on those pristine fingers.Â
And while you were definitely the victim in this situation, you feel more embarrassed than you do violated. Many nights you thought of how he spoke, how he said how badly he wanted you. Itâs embarrassing because youâre starting to love the idea of who those words really came from. The Park Sunghoon, so untouchable in the business world. So untouchable by women and men solely because he appears to be too expensive, too pristine.
But youâŠ
Youâve seen him dirty.Â
Part of you wishes you didnât pay to be humiliated like this. The rest of you wishes you didnât fucking like it as much as you do.
âItâs only fair.â Sunghoon explains with a short breath. âI feel awful for what Iâve done, and I should have told you the moment I recognized her as, wellââ He pauses with a pained face, as if he hates hearing himself say it. âYou.â
âThen, why didnât you?â You raise your brow again, nearly forgetting youâre at work, solely focused on the conversation at hand and feeling relieved at the way itâs going.
Sunghoon shifts in discomfort, looking away from you.
âDo you want honesty?â He asks in a quiet voice, leaning forward on his desk but refusing eye contact. He keeps his gaze lowered the entire time, his voice small and shaky.Â
Thereâs still people in the office, though his door is closed and itâs unlikely he can be heard.
You nod to him with an even smaller âGo on then.â
âI tried to convince myself that it wasnât you.â He says, shifting his hands and picking at his cuticles.Â
Man, he really knows how to act sorry, doesnât he?
âI avoided you after that first call, solely because I think I wanted her to be you. Which isâŠincredibly inappropriate.âÂ
He looks up at you now, searching for a reaction and only seeing you nod at him. His eyes shift right back down as he continues.Â
âMy avoiding you led you toâ umâ more services.â He explains quieter, admitting in full the situation heâs allowed to take place, seeming more and more insecure with his words than he ever has before. âI can admit that I have fantasies and needs.âÂ
Silence.Â
âAfter that first call, I couldnât help but be entirely attracted to you. The idea ofââ
You suddenly find yourself thinking back to all of those things he said to you again, parading as if he wasnât your boss, telling you what he'd do if he were. He seems to have accidentally found a sexual interest in the dynamicâŠand he fucking dragged you into it with him.Â
âMr. Parâ Sunghoon.â You cut him off, actually feeling a bit of pity now at his admittance.Â
His words make you feel like maybe heâs not entirely just a pervert who was intending to make you get off to him from the start. If anything, he probably felt uncomfortable at first knowing who was on the other end of the call. Itâs the fact that his real life job was at risk if you found out, and still he indulged despite that. He accepted that second call, he asked for more, he acted like he really does want you.
 To the extent that losing his job was in the front of his mind and he still did it. He ignored the danger of it and prioritized getting offâŠwith you. You find yourself wondering if this would have happened to any other employee under him if they happened to stumble across his stream too.Â
Part of you wants to pretend he wouldnât, because the idea that all of this is happening solely because it was you? It hits a little too hard, a little too deep.Â
âOkay, okay. Stop,â You say, keeping your eyes on him and willing him to look up at you. âYou donât have to keep explaining, I get it.â
âNo.â He does meet your eye this time, stopping your brain of all thoughts at how differently you see him now versus all the times before. âI do.âÂ
Heâs so honest. Probably too honest for his own good. Maybe thatâs why heâs so good at his job, maybe thatâs why everyone loves him. Maybe a bit of lying would help him in this situation if it were anyone else, but for you?Â
You kind of enjoy the way heâs telling the truth. Admitting that he was desperate, apologizing for wanting you even if just for a brief moment.
âI asked you to turn on your camera for selfish reasons. I asked you to say my name, then I made the mistake of exposing myself because Iââ He hesitates, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply through his nose. âI struggled to pretend it wasnât me, and that she wasnât you. I very well knew what I was doing, and at the time, I wished that you did too.â
More silence as you stare at him, stunned, slightly in awe.Â
âBut I knew you wouldnât have reciprocated. What Iâve done is criminal, and I am encouraging you to report me for it if thatâs what you deem necessary.âÂ
âAnd if I donât?â You donât leave any more room for silence now, feeling desired and validated.Â
You canât pretend that youâre mad, though you were previously. You simply canât pretend that, now at least, you wouldnât reciprocate. If anything, youâre more interested now than you think you ever would have been before.Â
âWe can forget any of this ever happened. Iâll stop streaming and accepting private calls, and we can hopefully move forward without any ill-feelings of one another.â He blinks at you, near pleading with his eyes. âIâll push your application throughâ That is, if you still want the position.âÂ
Sunghoon does wince at the bribe, considering heâs never done such a thing let alone commit acts of sexual harassment, or perhaps even non consensual foreplay with someone. It really really wasnât entirely intentional, and heâs disgusted with himself. If you report him, heâd take the hit to his reputation and career, but if you donâtâŠwhat then?
Ill-feelings, he says? If anything, you might feel more ill parading around like you wouldnât want him to do all of those things he said previously, with free-will to say as he pleased without the fear of you knowing who the words were coming from.Â
âCan you please stop with the professional talk?â You hum out with an exhausted eye roll. âI donât want the promotion if youâre just offering it so I donât rat you out.â You narrow your eyes now and lean yourself forward. âYou hope to forget this ever happened? Really?âÂ
Carefully, the two of you watch each other for a while longer. Sunghoon looking like heâs about to catch himself on fire, and you, looking annoyed and amused. Still, the thick air in the room starts to feel suffocating under the pressure of the âissueâ at hand as you scold him further.Â
âWhat you did was predatory. Butâ I donât want to ruin your life over this.âÂ
You watch as Sunghoon listens, his posture opening up a bit more as you speak, showing that heâs being relieved of his stress through your words alone.Â
âAre you trying to hold a promotion over my head over this?â
Before he gets the chance to curl in on himself again, you answer for him.Â
âMaybe.âÂ
You continue too, not letting him speak for the time being. Or, rather, giving him a chance to breathe.Â
âShould you change your username and continue doing what you want behind closed doors because itâs no one elseâs business?â You really watch him this time. âYes.âÂ
He blinks at you, raising a brow in slight confusion.Â
âDid you take advantage of me?â
He nods before you whisper out another âyesâ yourself.Â
âWould I let you do it againâŠ?â
Oh, for Sunghoon, itâs hard to breathe right now as he anticipates what youâll say. Is it going to be a ânoâ this time? Are you going to stand up and change your mind? Despite just stating you donât want to ruin his life?
God, hasnât he already let you?
âYes.â
Pause.Â
âIâm sorry?â Sunghoon responds in disbelief, shifting his eyes to his hands and then back to you. âCome again?â
âSunghoon.â You make it a point to call him by his name now, ignoring the etiquette of a proper boss and employee dynamic. âI am humiliated by all of this but I can see that you are too. Youâve admitted your guilt and even go as far as encouraging that I report you.â You pause again, knowing that this isnât where the conversation should be going for any, uh, normal person, you suppose.Â
âIf you had just told me. If you had said anything about wanting to, like, fuck me, I would have done it with or without the promotion on the line.â
Does that make you sound a little desperate? Yeah. But itâs not like he doesnât know how badly you need to be fucked. After all, you know, the cam sessions and stuff. You were literally paying a stranger to get you off.Â
Shouldnât he, of all people, know that you were bad-off enough to get laid?
Sunghoonâs issue though, is that he never looks at his employees sexually. No matter how pretty, no matter how much they flaunt themselves at him. He never has, and probably never will again. If it hadnât been for that single first session with you, all would be well. But now? Heâs too attracted to you.Â
He wants you so badly.
âIf you tell me right now that you want me, in the same way you did on that callââ You stop yourself to really look at him. With the way he swallows, the way his lips slightly part, the way his hands show signs of eleven days worth of nervous habit cuticle picking. âIf you do all of those things you said youâd do âif you were my bossâ...â
âWait, waitââ Sunghoon stands in a rush, causing you to jump slightly at the sudden sound echoing off of the walls in the office. âDo you understand the consequences of what youâre implying right now?â
âIf I fuck my boss, we could both be fired?â You smile, feeling the confidence raise within you. Watching the way he reacts to your lewd words face to face rather than through a microphone.Â
âThat would beâŠcorrect.â He raises a brow.Â
âWell, technically, youâve already been fucking me.â You look away from him, feeling a bit shy even with the confidence, but never having spoken to a man so bluntly before like this? Itâs a bit scary. âWould it really make anything worse if, you know, I do reciprocate?â
Goddamn. Sunghoon might be a bit smitten. This situation could have gone a thousand different ways, and you offer the one that includes your legs spread across this fucking desk and his face buried between them?
Oh. Never has he been so willingly turned on at work.Â
âIs this what you want?â He asks in a breath, shifting his eyes to the door and walking towards it, immediately reaching for the lock but not quite turning it.Â
âIs that what you want?â You counter, turning and staring at the lock.Â
Sunghoon hides his nod, wanting you to be the one to answer first. After all, hasnât he been self-indulgent enough?
âDo you want me to fuck you?â He finally breaks and says it, blatantly, not sugar coated, yet still sweet when the words hit your ears. âAfter all this, you still want it?âÂ
You nod, dipping your head a bit against your shoulder.Â
Click.Â
âI guess I should have known.â Sunghoon plays with his words now, hand dropping from the now locked door and eyes entirely on you. âDo you want me to fuck you, or would you preferââ
âYou.â You smile, feeling your skin prickle at the electricity that enters the room through breath and words alone. Itâs the way he already shifted. Like all of that anxiety melted out of him within an instant.Â
âNo, no.â He stalks towards you now, the nervous Sunghoon is no longer in sight as he makes himself seem bigger, taller, far more intimidating. Just like he was on camera. âThe me you saw on screen is not the same as what youâre seeing right now.â He tries to explain.Â
âOh?â You tilt your head, and he only finds that cute.Â
Far too cute.Â
âYouâd do as I ask, right?â His voice shifts to a raspy whisper as he centers himself in front of you, both hands reaching the arms of your chair as he hovers above you. âIâm far more tame online.âÂ
Tame?! Thatâs what he calls tame?!Â
You stare up at him, keeping your jaw from falling slack as you physically see him shift from being your boss into being a man with a need. Not just any need either. A need for you.
Part of you wonders if he ever truly felt bad in the first place about all of this, because the shift from just moments ago is so dramatic itâs almost scary.Â
âSo, tell me.â He leans down, inches from your face as his eyes start to fall to a half-lidded stare at you. âYouâll do as I say? Youâd let me do it all for you, and not ask me to stop until I feel it best, yes?â
You swallow and slowly nod. Oh god, it really, really, is him.Â
âAnd while at work, youâll behave?â He continues, lips now ghosting over yours to the point you can almost feel them press down. Heâs implying that if you donât tell, that this wonât be the only time too? Shit. Heâs entirely aware of why this shouldnât be happening, but still making it happen.
 âNo matter what I do to you, where or how I do it, youâll behave?â
You canât help it when you lift your chin, just a bit to rest your lips against his words, eyes falling closed and hands hesitant to reach out for his perfectly ironed shirt.Â
You feel his smile against your lips, with that sharp-toothed grin he rarely offers.Â
âAh, so itâs true.â He murmurs against you, his hand reaching for yours and guiding it for you, straight to his belt. âDirty, dirty girl.â
A small, pleased, sound leaves your throat when he does kiss you, adding his own pleased hum alongside yours as his hands still hold yours in place over his belt, not quite letting you do anything just yet.
âGonna be quietââ He whispers into your mouth, just against your tongue before licking out and against it. âEven when I tell you to moan my name?â
You really shouldnât be surprised, but you still are. You like this Sunghoon better than the one who stutters and picks his cuticles. Heâs owning it, and in a way, so are you.Â
 After all, it wasnât until today that you truly learned what Sunghoon is like when heâs aroused. Not that you ever should have known in the first place. The fact that you do know, the fact that heâs showing you? It just makes this all the more arousing, in your opinion.
All he needed was a green light and within seconds it seems, Sunghoon became the need youâve been chasing for months now through porn sites and erotic novels.Â
You nod to his words, trying to drop your hand just a bit to feel what youâve already seen. Just to feel how warm he is, howâ
âIs that so?â Sunghoon whispers in an amused tone, guiding your hand right back to his belt, only to drop his other hand straight between your legs. âYouâre supposed to do as I say. If I tell you to moan my name, you do it.â
Oh, the sexual confusion of what to do and which Sunghoon to obey. All you can do is continue to nod for him, hanging your head with a breath at the way he cups his hand over the entirety of your core. You wore pants today in order to hide your shame, to try and feel invisible based on previous circumstances. Youâre not so happy about that now, as you try to feel his touch through the thick fabric only to shamelessly thrust your hips up and against his palm.
He moves his lips to the top of your head now, hovering over you in a perfect stance of power, hand gently rubbing up and and down despite your hips asking for a harsher touch. If anything, it makes him feel better knowing how you react to this.Â
In actuality, his relief is sending his arousal through the roof. Not only are you not going to rat him out butâŠyou want more of it? More of him, in particular? Not the facade of him online?Â
At this point, if he gets caught, youâre both going down in flames. So, why not enjoy the ride?
Truly, itâs laughable in the way heâs just as amused as he is turned on, relishing in the fact that he wants you and youâre letting him have you despite his past actions. Youâre messy too, heâs seen it, and now he gets to feel it.Â
âMhm,â Sunghoon hums against the top of your head, now pressing his own hips forward against your hand. âFeel that?â
The electricity? How hard he is? How needy you are?
âYeahâŠâ You sigh absentmindedly, bumping his chin with your head when you try to look up at him. You only blink twice before he coos out with a sad little sound.Â
He doesnât say a word after as he removes his hand and instead, grabs both of your hands and places them on his shirt.Â
âGo on.â He smiles, waiting to see you to start fumbling against his buttons.Â
And fumble, you do. Touching him, for some reason, feels so dangerous. Knowing youâre the one removing his shirt, watching his skin be revealed as it begins to fall open by your own doing? Itâs electrifying. Enough to lose your train of thought as you study how toned and smooth his skin is. Just like how you had seen on camera, so clear in front of you now. Youâre aching for him by this point, being able to feel his body heat, touch him, feel his eyes on you.Â
If you had really known back then who it was you were talking to, you very well may have pretended to not know as well, judging by the way your entire body catches fire for him.Â
And as his shirt falls completely open, heâs satisfied with the way you do it. Complacent and docile beneath him, nervous fingers shaking much like he did for the past eleven days. With those pretty eyes looking at him, like thereâs nothing in your head at all.Â
He chuckles at you, grabbing your hands again and placing them right on his chest, helping your hesitant touch to massage and caress each bump and toned muscle. He intentionally flexes the further down your hands go, all the way back to his belt.Â
There, he looks down at where you touch, then back at you with a quirked brow. You stare up at him, blinking, face feeling hot, and itâs like you move your hands on instinct. The sound of his buckle being unclasped echoes in the room, and his eyes only darken with the sound.
The sound of it slipping from the loops when he takes it upon himself to remove it completely for you, the sound of his breathing, the sound of that zipper, the button, the shuffling of his pants being skewed down just enough to fit your hand inside.
He moans at the image alone, loving the way your smaller hand looks slipping down his pants, the way your breathing is somehow even as if youâre trying to keep yourself calm. So calm, so pretty, but he knows how needy you are. He shouldnât, but he does, and he uses it to his advantage.Â
Youâre the one who moans this time upon feeling that little twitch of his cock urging you to grab. And he helps you too, with the way he guides your hand under the front of his pants further, forcing your fingers to grab and grope the thick of his cock, uncomfortable and pressing between his briefs and undone zipper.Â
âStill, youâre just looking.â Sunghoon comments, pressing his hips forward slowly and gently. âIâm right here.â He continues to explain the situation to you, as if youâre not experiencing it. âYou need me to show you how to touch me too?â
You hesitate with a groan caught in your throat. Youâre still processing the size difference that you feel now versus what you saw. Bigger. Thicker. Heavier than you would have expected against your palm. Honestly, you were so focused on the fact that Sunghoonâs cock is currently fucking forward against you that you almost forgot how to jerk a man off by yourself.Â
His hand had been doing all the work for you, and youâre quick to take over.Â
Sunghoon lends a very small gasp at the way you try to grasp, and instantly both of his arms shoot to the chair behind your head. He grips it, dropping his chin to the top of your head before thrusting a bit harsher into the grip you try to hold on him.Â
âHarder.â He exhales, his cock twitching in your weak hold. âGrab me harder.â
You do, squeezing the bulge before intentionally adjusting it for him, allowing the head of his bulbous cock to peek from the top of his briefs.Â
His relieved sigh is enough, you canât help it. With his chin sat atop your head like this, you have no choice but to watch the way he moves his hips. Just like he did on camera. His abs flex with each movement, his arms grip behind you on the chair tighter, and you couldnât pull your eyes away from his desperate body even if you wanted to.Â
You thrust up too, as if your body craves what youâre already touching. And you do crave it, so much so that your clit aches against the denim youâre rubbing up against. Unfortunate that you wore these fucking jeans, honestly.
âMr. Parkââ You let out a small and frustrated cry, using your other hand to try and fail at unbuttoning your own pants.Â
He hides his smile at the way youâve reverted back to his professional title, but pays no mind to it because thatâs what he wanted to hear in your voice that night. A desperate sound of his name, a plea, a cry. He canât help but cling to it and bury that pretty voice into the darkest parts of his brain. A memory heâll revisit time and time again after this. That sound, those pretty lips, this weak grasp you have. For the time being, itâs his. You belong to him right now.Â
âHm?â He hums out, fucking his hips forward while tilting his head back to look at you. âWhat is it, baby?â
Oh. You lost your train of thought.Â
Thankfully, he seems to do the thinking for you as he shifts his eyes down and watches you try to both please him and remove your own pants. A cute sight to him, really. Someone who was just scolding him for wanting this, fumbling for more?Â
So cute.Â
He chuckles, pulling his hips back from your hand and grabbing it, unbothered by the loss of your touch. Instantly he intertwines his fingers with yours, and grasps your other hand from your pants to do the same. Both your arms raise by his guidance to the back of the chair before he releases them.Â
You watch with a slack jaw and half-lidded eyes as he lowers himself, right onto his knees before he unbuttons your pants for you and very politely pulls them from your legs.Â
âThis what you want?â He smiles, lying his cheek right against your exposed thigh and taking a deep inhale. Itâs taking everything in him not to fawn over the woman who had him in his thoughts for the past however long, truly.Â
Then again, heâs weak. He doesnât even look up at you through his words and, instead, nuzzles his nose right up and against the seat of your panties before inhaling with a pleasant hum. âTo have me finally touching this pretty pussy for you?âÂ
God damn, if you didnât already know it was him on that camera, you do now. He speaks the same type of words, with the same confidence, the same sultry toneâŠ
You can barely comprehend the way he slowly takes his own pants off because youâre too focused on the way he runs his lips across your skin with dirty thoughts spilling from them. Fingers tucked under either side of your panties in preparation before he eventually pulls them off of you.Â
âDid you wear those pants to hide yourself from me?â He comments now with an amused tone. âKnowing you wanted me to take them off of you anyway?â
You shake your head at him, holding your breath. You did wear them to hide, but you never would have expected this situation to go in a direction involving his mouth anywhere near where you need it. Sure, you assumed he would have rejected you, you assumed that if it was himâ heâd have been so disgusted with himself that heâd only gag at your presence.Â
But no. You were bold in your words, and he seems to feed into that.Â
âNo?â He furrows his brows and lifts his head. Now lowering your panties much like he did for your pants. Heâs quick with his next action, seemingly hiding his own desperation through playful comments at you. âWhy not?â He adds, instantly pressing his thumb against your clit and fucking shining his eyes up at you with a semi-pouted mouth.Â
You roll your eyes back at the sudden pressure, relaxing your shoulders and slouching down in the chair. Your legs spread further on instinct, granting him a full view of your sticky cunt parting open for him.
His eyes glance down, peering into the heat you offered once before ever knowing it was him looking. Clicking his tongue, he canât help but bite his lower lip to hold himself back. He hopes you donât notice the way his hand finds its way to his own cock, he really, really hopes you donât see him act so pathetic over this.Â
But you do. The moment your eyes roll back into place and get a look at him. One of his shoulders is moving, but the action is hidden by not only the chair, but his fucking face. Heâs got his lips parted and heâs licking his lower lip. Slicking it up with his own saliva beforeâ
âSo quiet,â He hums with glistening lips, lending himself a light hold with his cock and pretending itâs you doing it for him. âYou have nothing to say for yourself?â He adds now, inhaling once more the scent of your slick dripping for him as he leans in just a bit more.
âOhâ!â You yelp slightly at the feeling of his teeth digging into the flesh just to the side of your core. He bites down harder and harder, licking the flesh between his teeth before sucking hard against it. The sweat and scent of your full-day at work does nothing to calm his raging cock. He loves it and it only grows his appetite for you. Licking, sucking, nibbling at the skin until heâs sure heâll leave a nice, painful swell to rub against your panties later. Only then does he release your skin from his still-tasting mouth.Â
The relief when he releases your thigh is short lived because he offers not even a full two seconds before you feel his mouth circle your clit. Like he canât help himself, like he canât tease you right now even if he wanted to.Â
 A flick of his tongue sends a shiver down your spine straight to your toes and you canât stop your legs from immediately wrapping around his head. You hear his muffled âmmfâ when you do that, but he keeps you from apologizing for it because his free hand goes straight under your ass and scoots you even closer to his tongue.Â
And if you didnât already think Sunghoon knew how to use that mouth for more than just being a professional business man, you do now. With the way that same tongue that used to taste the morning coffee youâd bring him now tastes you. Deeply.Â
He licks, flicks, and sucks every fold. Slurping up any dripping heat that slips out of you before pressing his tongue in and nuzzling his nose against your clit. Heâs not quiet about it either. He moans with each lick, hums every time your legs squeeze around his neck, slurps and loudly sucks.Â
Itâs pornographic, itâs sexy, itâsâ
Suddenly, you feel a sharp jolt shoot through you, having not even noticed his hand moving from your ass to your front, moving straight up under your shirt. His fingers immediately find your nipple and pinches hard. So hard that your previous moan only becomes prolonged. Grows louder, breathier.Â
He pinches and massages your nipple with the intent to keep you loud for him. Office setting or not, he could give less of a shit about that right now. He ignores the strain on his wrist from your bra, he uses his other hand to grip himself harder, and you canât help but squeeze him tighter between your thighs until youâre, quite literally, shaking.
Your hips are sliding against his face with each jolt of pleasure, practically riding him, and his cock is now entirely neglected because you canât help but want more. You need more. And he gives it, by now releasing himself and keeping both hands on you. One holding the outside of your thigh, almost pushing you to squeeze tighter, the other incessantly abusing your nipple.Â
He chokes out a moan through his messy movements, never quite knowing where to put his hands solely because he wants to touch all of you. His cock is just fine being neglected, he thinks, as he realizes just how much pleasure he gets from feeling you wrap yourself around him like this.Â
It feels better than jerking himself off.Â
âMr. Pââ You sigh out, still not quite used to actually calling him his name, but the sound of it reminds you time and time again how wrong this situation is supposed to be.Â
Youâre sitting on this soft chair, pussy being spread apart by a tongue none other than the man who signs your paychecks. And just this morning you were terrified of him ever even getting a glimpse of you without pants on? God, how stupid could you be? You shouldâve been chasing this manâs touch since the day you looked at him for the first time.Â
âFuckââ You moan out for him, brain spitting thoughts at you as each second passes. The danger of this, the fact that he genuinely got off to you before you knew it was him. The secrecy of his perverted thoughts and actionsâŠitâs all so⊠âSo, youâre so â hot.â
You feel him laugh, kissing the pulsing hole of your pussy when he pulls his tongue back to swallow. And for just a few moments, he turns his head, gripping your thigh with his teeth once again before speaking back to you, muffled by the hot skin.Â
âYeah?â He laughs, now pulling his hand from your bra and lifting to your chin, pointing your gaze down at him, forcing you to see the way your thighs nearly suffocate him against your pussy. âThen keep your eyes on me.â
And you do, especially when he uses both of his hands now, nudging them between your legs and forcing them from his shoulders. He rests your legs on the arms of the chair instead and flicks his eyes up at you.Â
âYou watching?â He makes this a point, blowing a small breath of air straight at your clit before receiving a dazed and slow nod from you. âKeep your legs open too.â
Thatâs the last thing he says before his mouth is full again, sucking your folds between his teeth before tucking his tongue right back into your hole. He tastes for just a few moments before you feel those same lips on your clit. He lets it throb in his open mouth as he listens carefully to your little sounds, especially now that heâs sliding his fingers into you.Â
You gasp, holding your breath at the feeling. His fingers slide in, reaching deep before he scissors them open. And all you feel from it is pleasure. You canât help that your eyes roll back again, but you do try to keep your gaze fixed on his. With his eyes so rounded, blinking up at you with his strong jaw moving with each swallow of his own muffled moans.Â
He sucks your clit, fucks your cunt open, and relishes in the way he will soon get to splay you across his desk and really let you have it.Â
And he does this for a few minutes, though in your head it goes by so fast that you nearly get whiplash from the way he pulls back with a wet sound and grins at you.
âAw, babyââ He coos at the face you make, seemingly disappointed to lose all stimulation at once, but heâs quick to lift to his feet and lean back over you.Â
Oh, his cock. Itâs right there.Â
Oh.
His faceâÂ
âYouâre so fucking wet right now.â He murmurs against the corner of your mouth with a raspy whisper, easily and without warning slipping two of his fingers right back into the heat that he just denied himself of licking more. âYou hear that?â He continues with a sharp toothed bite to your lip. âHow wet you are?â
You groan at the way he slams his fingers in, out, in, out, inâŠHe keeps them there, pressed so far into you that you can physically feel the way your pussy tries to push him out again.
âCould slip it in right nowââ He moans out at how tight you clench just his fingers. âFuck, could be so deep in you.â
Your face feels hot as a bashful feeling overtakes you. His voice hits so much harder when you feel his breath along with it. His fingers, his cock right up against you. You want him to slip it in. To stuff his cock in you so fast, no room to adjust, not a second to even catch your breath.Â
God, you need it right now. Itâs been too long since youâve felt a real person touch you, you canât help that you feel so desperate. The clench isnât on purpose, your body tells him all he needs to know, all while he tells you all you could only wish to hear fall from someoneâs lips.
And not just anyone. His lips.Â
You shoot your arms around his neck and it's not really intentional butâ an actual kiss. You need it.Â
He seems pleased by it though, with the way his tongue immediately asks for more. One hand moves to brace your cheek, the other still fucking into you so good that you canât keep a single moan down. He takes full control of the initiated kiss solely because you kissed him first. Almost hungrily, he licks into your mouth with his own muffled groan, encouraging you to keep being pretty like this. Just so you can see what heâll do to you.Â
And, damn. He guides your body like a puppet, stiffening his shoulders when he licks into your mouth and threatening to pull away by raising himself up just a bit. He knew youâd chase the kiss, and you do. You lift with him, your ass lifting from the chair just to keep his tongue against yours, and he takes the elevated position and angles his hand just a bit. There, his fingers fuck into you harder, faster, so much fucking deeper untilâ you feel his fingers stop at a painfully deep spot inside of you.Â
He pulls back from the kiss, looking down between your bodies, and your eyes follow his gaze. Right there, heâs placed his knee up against his own wrist, forcing his fingers to remain deep and unmoving in you.Â
You take in a sharp inhale, seeing the way he lets your body fall back to the seat of the chair, only forcing him to skew his fingers andâ âOh, god!â
You moan out so suddenly that it even shocks him for a moment, but he takes your weakness and uses it to his advantage. Quickly, he licks into your moaning mouth, tickling his fingers upwards, pulling even more animalistic sounds from you.Â
âYeah?â He whispers frantically, so turned on by the way your entire body stiffens. âRight there?â He continues, leaning his full body weight forward with his knee, wincing at the way he presses his cock against anything he can find in the process, just to get you off right here, right now.Â
You nod just as frantically, toes curling, arms shooting to the chair in a form that should appear as discomfort, but really youâre just bracing yourself through the tensing of your muscles before all of them relax and pulse at once.Â
Your ears pop, but you can still hear your desperate cries of his name somewhere distant. You can even hear him, humming and encouraging your orgasm. You wish you could hold your eyes open to see him, to grab him and force him to fuck his fingers hard into you. God, you could take it right now. You could take just about anything to heighten this feeling of stars bursting behind your eyelids.Â
Somehow though, itâs like he knows. Half-way through your orgasm, you feel the weight between your legs shift and his fingers start moving again. Still, your eyes are squeezed shut, and you can't help but to lunge forward and hug against his neck, clinging to him through the prolonged orgasm that his fingers alone have brought to you.Â
âSqueezing me so tightââ Sunghoon groans, unsure of if heâs referring to the way your needy cunt crowds his fingers, or the way you cling to him like a lost pet, begging for him to never leave your sight. âFuck, youâre so pretty like this.â
You hear those words over any of his others. So clear in your head as you snap your head up and look at him. You see him lower his gaze, but your grip doesnât quite allow him to actually look down at you. Not when he has to physically hold you up anyway. Still, he looks amused up there, knowing that single compliment mustâve hit somewhere inside of you.
Youâre not sure why, through all this, Sunghoon calling you pretty makes it so much more intimate. And even as your legs continue to shake, and you release your death grip hug on him, he keeps himself crowded up to you. Heâs somehow out of breath just like you are, relishing in the calm silence of your post orgasm as heâŠJesus.
Itâs not just your imagination. Somehow, it is intimate. Itâs the way he pulls his fingers out and both hands shoot to your face. First, he kisses you as if youâre a long lost love. Deeply, slowly. Then, heâs putting one hand at the small of your back, nudging his knee right back between your legs, and pulling you right up against him.Â
âWho did you cum for?â Sunghoon asks, pulling back just to lick against your lips and stare directly down at you. âSay my name.â
You donât hesitate, echoing out with a winced expression, still so out of breath while rubbing your clit to the expanse of his thigh.Â
âSu-Sunghoo-Sunghoon-âÂ
âYeah?â He encourages you, hearing his name heat his ears up. He moves his pussy-slicked fingers to your mouth while you cry his name, and easily presses your tongue down with them, sliding the digits further and further down your throat. âSunghoon.â He says his own name. âSay it again.â
You gag around his fingers, unable to obey his demand.Â
âSungââ He inspects the way your tongue struggles against the intrusion in your mouth. âHoon.âÂ
You swallow around them now, sputtering, tears now running down the outer apples of your cheeks. He watches you do it too, wondering how good that would feel if it were his cock youâre swallowing around. Knowing youâd probably do it for him if he wanted to right now.Â
ButâŠhe needs more than that. Despite how delicious you look while gagging, his cock has been neglected and he needs to fuck out the stress from the past however long youâve been avoiding him. Itâs like his brain breaks with the action as he watches you take his fingers in whatever way he offers. You let him do whatever he wants. Youâre obeying.Â
âUp.â He suddenly says, pulling all physical contact with you away as he turns, steps out of the pants restricting his ankles, and swipes every pen, file, and picture frame off his desk. âCome here, baby.â
You feel like youâre melted to this chair right now, in all honesty. Youâre still trying to catch your breath just from touching his cock before he decided to make you see fucking stars, to think you can stand right now is insane.
So, when you donât immediately hop up and throw yourself onto his desk, he turns to look at you.Â
Youâre splayed out, legs still spread, toes still curled. Your chest is heaving to breathe, eyes wild and lips so fucking kissable.Â
âOh, fuck.â He sighs to himself in realization, relishing in the image of you heâs only recently been craving. âLook at you.â
You lift your arm to hide your face, feeling apologetic for the way youâve lost the ability to exist as an active participant right now. Even more apologetic when you glance down at how fucking hard his cock is. Raging hard, so pretty with the tip sputtering precum for god knows how long.Â
He watches you stare, and lends you a few moments to catch your breath by gripping it himself. Leaning himself against his desk and twisting his wrist with a tight grip at the base.Â
âIs this how you looked at me when I did this before?â He asks, flicking his wrist still with each drag. âSo out of it, you look like such a mess, babe.â
You find yourself humming a confirmation to him as you watch, almost reverting back to who you were during that first session. Unseen, only heard, all while you got to see him pleasure himself to almost nothing. You gave him nothing.Â
Youâve still only given him nothing.Â
And so, very slowly, you force yourself to stand on shaking legs to take those two strides to his desk. Something inside of you tingles when he drops his cock and opens his arms for you, like a good boss would do in this situation. Supporting your unbalanced weight, letting you walk into his comforting grasp.Â
âSaid my name so pretty, you know.â He comments gently when he holds you close to him. Hands reaching down from the grip around your waist just to grab both of your fleshy ass checks and squeeze them. âYou want more, yes?â
Heâs quick to the point, only allowing the short and sweet moments to last just enough for them to stick in your head. Just enough to have questions about his actions. Just enough to give him anything, everything, he could want if it involves your body.
You nod almost shyly, dipping your head down and leaning against his chest.Â
âLet's get this off of you then.â He smiles with a gentle voice, reaching to the hem of your shirt and pulling it straight up, watching how you lift your arms to help him. âMhmââ He hums again, loving how the bra drags off of you along with the shirt. He lets both of his hands brush your nipples before he goes back to gripping your ass cheeks and spreading them.Â
Spreading them so wide that, once again, you have to lift on your toes just to let him play with your body. Which, oh man. Always wearing his button down shirts, his blazers, his long-sleeve shirts. You canât help it when you tug at the opened fabric of his shirt, asking silently that he shake it off. Wanting to see his arms, wanting to see the strength in them.
And he does it without hesitation, letting his hands fall from you just for a moment to shake his shirt off, only now hugging against you again and forcing a position change. He turns both of you so now youâre up against his desk, and heâs standing in front of you.
Itâs easy for him to push you back in a kiss. Your legs open for him on instinct anyway, so he need not worry about prying those legs open again. You do just as expected when he pushes you too. Your ass hits the desk and you lift on your toes to sit on it. Your legs spread wider, making room for him to step even closer, cock right up against you when he closes any amount of distance, and still? Heâs kissing you.Â
All across your face, down your neck, back to your lips. And his hands just keep feeling. Massaging your tits, lending small taps to your ass, holding your chin, jaw, neck, and thenâŠhe runs them through your hair.Â
The feeling is so good you almost forget how youâve been trying to steal a glimpse of his flexing arms as he grabs at you. Goosebumps prickle and you let out a groan at the pleasure of it. He keeps one hand there now, smiling against his kiss to your ear.Â
âYou like being pampered?â He asks, now gripping a fist full of your hair and skewing your neck to the side. âLike being moved around like a puppet?â
Never once have you thought about your sex life that way, but when you think about itâŠmaybe. After all, you did enjoy being told when and how to touch yourself, being allowed or forbidden from cumming. Now, with him quite literally moving you around with just a simple grip of your hair? Yeah.Â
âBy youââ You mutter out as you open your eyes, staring at the ceiling and feeling his tongue lap against your earlobe.Â
âJust me?â He leans back, using that same grip in your hair to force you to look at him. âYouâd give me that power?â
You nod against the grasp, lips falling open in a moan despite not being pleasured by anything aside from the stinging against your scalp as he pulls little hairs a bit too tightly.Â
âYou knowââ Sunghoon starts now, pressing his hips forward, dropping his other hand to his cock and slapping it right against your weeping cunt. âIf I had known you were this dirty...âHe sighs out at the image in his head, thinking back to all those times he silently complimented you in his head. Back then, never would he have made comments about your legs out loud, or how your tits would look in certain shirts. Thinking back now, heâs always found you quite beautiful.
Quite fuckable, even.Â
You listen to the silence waiting for him to continue, feeling the way he presses the hardened head of his length against your clit repeatedly.Â
âI would have propped you up on this desk months ago,â He smiles now, leaning in real close to your ear as his grip in your hair loosens just a bit. âCouldâve had you moaning my name this whole time.â
Then, you feel it. The way he adjusts his weeping cock lower, prodding at your hole just a bit until his tip is entirely enveloped by your clenching walls.Â
You swallow a moan and hold your breath, legs shooting around his waist and instinctively trying to force his hips to move forward, trying to force him to penetrate you deeper.
âShh,â He coos out, holding his hips firm and not letting you control his movements. Then, he kisses just under your ear before peppering them all the way back to your lips. He doesnât kiss you though, no, he chuckles at you for trying. Watching you let your tongue fall from your mouth, inspecting the way youâre entirely in tune for him right now. âYou really want it, donât you?â He whispers just above your lips. âWant me to fuck you right here, right now?â
You nod absentmindedly, legs still trying to force him to move, arms clinging under his biceps, head still forced into whatever position he keeps it in by the hair.Â
âPleaseâSunghoon.â You cry in a small voice, feeling as if youâre going insane by the feeling of his tip sitting comfortably in you.Â
âYouâre so cute.â He smiles, lending you another inch of his length before letting his hand fall from your hair. There, he grips your waist instead, letting a strained grunt fall from his own lips this time. Heâs really trying to remain collected about this, and heâs unsure himself why heâs enjoying the act of teasing you like this. He feels like heâs teasing himself more than you right now, seeing as how itâs taking everything in him not to stuff his cock into you hard and fast. âSoâso, fucking cute.â
You clench around the few inches in you and it appears thatâs all he needed to break entirely. Is he controlling you, or are you controlling him?Â
Honestly, who gives a fuck?
You feel his arms shake when he plants them at either side of you, pointing his cock straight into you and sliding in fully. Thereâs a groan from him that you want to hear so badly, but your own heart beat is thumping in your ears so loudly that you miss half of it.Â
The stretch is delicious, and the fact that itâs Sunghoon doing this to you makes this all the more enjoyable. The man who youâve seen day after day, now holding himself up on the desk youâve signed papers on with and for him? All so he can angle his hips and shove his cock in? Just to let his arms frantically wrap around your waist? Just so he can scoot you forward on this desk, using your leaking slick to slide you back and forth in time with his hips?Â
That groan you wanted to hear? He hasnât stopped. Heâs essentially, controlling the entire situation and when you half open your eyes to witness his face, youâre forced to roll your eyes back in a moan matching his.Â
Heâs fucking you so deeply right now that all you can do is moan, all you can do is forget the embarrassment, the victimization, the way heâs doing this to you despite the risk of reality crumbling. He could lose his job, you could lose yours, and yet stillâ heâs fucking you like he doesnât care.
So, you choose not to care either in the form of grabbing his hair, forcing his head back, and attaching your lips right against his adams apple. You feel him swallow and breathe out a shocked sound, and then? You suck.
Intentionally, you suck, bite, and lick, harder and harder until thereâs a deep purple mark there. He doesnât even fight it, though you feel him try to move his head just to keep you from going too insane with it. You donât care though, because still you feel his cock splitting you open, forcing you to adjust to him.Â
âAh,â Sunghoon lets out another breath with that familiar chuckle, âMarking me now?âÂ
You hum a confirmation as you move to a new spot on his neck, absolutely fucking marking him. Feeling devastated by the idea that heâd do this with any other employee. Or any other person in general.Â
âMaking me all yours, huh?â He continues with his cocky words, feeling the way your pussy clenches him tightly, dripping all over his desk. Heâd let you make him yours, with or without the bruising from your mouth.Â
âMhm.â You hum pleasantly, letting out little yelps each time he slams into you. Letting out full moans each time his arms wrap around your waist tighter.Â
You continue with the act, littering his pretty neck with your touch and loving how he just lets you. Knowing that heâll show up at work tomorrow looking a bit tired, but glowing nonetheless, trying to hide all these marks with that tight-necked collar he likes to wear.Â
âWhatever you want.â He breathes, letting his hips lose rhythm for just a moment as he feels his muscles tighten. âFuck, youâre still so tight.âÂ
You feel like youâre on top of the world as he compliments you, to the point youâre not sure when youâll cum because your whole body has seemingly been feeling euphoria anyway. Everything feels good, even if his cock reaches deep enough to cause little jolts of pain. The sound of the desk scooting back through the force of his hips is enough to make you take it. Enough to squeeze your legs around him tighter, enough to clench, enough toâ forget what youâre doing and let yourself fall into it with him.
Your head falls back from his neck and you pant out little half-calls of his name with each thrust. Your legs loosen from around him too, but his grip on your waist only pushes you back on his desk. Until heâs leaning forward so hard with each thrust that suddenly your back meets the cold wood.
Sandwiched between him and his desk, he follows the action, his hands quickly moving from your waist to your tits, pushing them together just so he can nuzzle his face between them.
There, you look at him. You really look at him.Â
What a messy, messy, man. Always so pristine during working hours, now looking so wrecked and out of it as he chases a pleasure that you hope only you can give to him.Â
âMr. Parkââ You sigh out in a pleasant voice, watching the way he sucks your tit into his mouth before his eyes open wide just so he can look up at you through each thrust. âHarder.â
You can physically see the way his eyes darken when he pops off from your tit, hands now going back to the desk as he hovers over you and intentionally rolls his hips.Â
You feel his cock loosen you up painfully before he intentionally fucks into you. Dragging all the way out, just to push forward in a deep and painful thrust. Over and over again, all while heâs staring straight into your eyes.
As you look up at him, you see the intent in his face. The way he wants to give you exactly what you want. Sweat shining from his cheeks, his neck littered with pretty colors. Oh, heâs actually heavenly when he fucks.Â
Better than what you thought that guy on camera would have been. Heâs not nonchalant like he was when he was performing. Heâs entirely in tune with you and what you want. Like what you want is what he wants.Â
You can tell heâs paying no mind to his own face or expression, blatantly putting all of his thoughts into how heâs pleasuring you, his eyes searching your face to tell him heâs doing well. To tell him you feel good, to tell him youâre close orâ
âFuckââ He sighs out, teeth tracing his bottom lip as he glances up, keeping pace with the way heâs been plunging into you. âI canât keep looking at you,â
You smile, feeling dazed and far away. It feels like itâs just you and him. Youâre not in his office, on a desk, or doing anything you shouldnât be doing.Â
âYou hear me?â He drops his body weight on you again, letting his hips move freely as he chases and chases. âIâm so close.â
Oh.Â
âThen look at me.â You huff out, now shooting a hand between his flexed abs and simplyâŠtouching your clit once.
 âOhâshit.âÂ
It hits you so fast. Just a simple touch causes your pussy to clench Sunghoon so tightly that he mimics your sound.Â
âAh, fuck- fuck,â His voice sounds frantic as he tries to pull out, only to feel your legs shoot back around him. This time, he lets you force him to stay. He lets those legs of yours push him back in, so deep that he knows he canât fight. âNo, noââ He chokes out, uncaring if his hips show you that heâs lying with his words. âIâm cummingâ I need toââ
âStay!â You shake beneath him but your voice sounds pleading, pressing once more to your clit before letting it go. You clench him again, essentially letting your body finish him off. Letting those clenches squeeze him so tightly, making sure he couldnât fathom ever wasting his cum. âDonât pull out.â
He doesnât. In fact, he presses impossibly deeper, trying to bury his cock into you to the point it even pains him. Arms shaking as he tries to hold himself up again, only to drop his lips to yours under his own weight. His hips are so tense between your legs, his cock is so stiff that you can feel each pumped release, and still youâre experiencing your own euphoria through it.Â
To the point your toes are curling and you barely notice the way you leave welts across his back from your fingernails through the intense orgasm. To the point his slack lips against yours feel more natural than anything else. Not kissing, just close. So close thatâ
He kisses you.Â
After itâs all said and done, he still kisses you breathlessly. Passionately almost, clinging to you as his cock twitches as it grows flaccid inside of you.
He doesnât pull out, he justâŠkisses.
And as you lay against his wooden desk, body coming down from the pleasure youâve felt more than once within the past hour, all you can do is let your brain think on its own. Without shame, without embarrassment or anxiety.Â
You thought Sunghoon would have been in control the whole time. Teasing you, maybe even making this experience more painful than it needs to be. But no, heâŠ
Heâs soft. Gentle, almost.Â
Only now do you recognize that as badly as he probably wants to appear harsh, like the confident man he is on camera, you think he needs something else. Not just power, not just money or control. Not even just fucking.Â
You thinkâŠmaybe, Sunghoon needs connection.Â
Intimacy.Â
And thatâs proven when he does finally stand on his own buckled knees, pulling you up with him into a hug where he still kisses you. Up until he takes that shirt you unbuttoned and holds it between your legs, scratching the back of his neck with a shy glance at you.Â
âSorry for the mess.â He echoes in a meek voice, holding that shirt firm against you. âGuess I just couldnât help myself.â
ă»ă»ă»ă»ă»ă»ă»ă»ă»ă»ă»ă»ă»ă»
Days later, you find yourself in his bed. Which should have been expected probably. Still doesnât change the fact that every few hours, you remind yourself the reality of the situation.
Itâs not just any bed youâre in. Itâs Sunghoonâs bed.Â
âOh, right. The promotion.â Sunghoon suddenly calls out mid-episode.Â
Youâve been here with him all day. To the point neither of you bother to put on clothes now because you know the spark will come back at any given time and youâll be all over each other again. Still, lazing in his bed with him on a Saturday afternoon is nice.Â
âIâve been a bit occupied butâ the interviews for the assistant position has been pushed back a bit due to you not coming to work. I was supposed to notify you when you got back, but you know, we had prioritiesââÂ
Sunghoon sighs, embarrassed. Itâs nice actually, seeing him in his natural element. Allowing you to see him as more than just the guy that wears a suit and tie every day at work.Â
âUnrelated to usâŠdoing this, but, youâre up for the interview. Just need to schedule it with me. If you still want to be my assistant, I mean.â
âOh, I can only imagine what that could entail.â
Sunghoon seems offended by this remark as he pulls back with furrowed brows.
âExcuse me?â
âDid you fuck the last one too?â You give him a playful smile, prodding at his soft-skinned chest.
âAbsolutely not?!âÂ
âYouâre still gonna fuck me too though, right? Even if Iâm constantly having to nag you for signatures and meetings?âÂ
Sunghoon stares at you before smiling.Â
âWell, let's see if you get the job anyway. Rhonda from Marketing is applying too.â
You lend a half-joke gag at him.Â
âIs it too forward to ask for special attention for the position along with a sexual favor?â You tread the thin line. âIâm half joking but wouldnât it be likeâŠnormal for us to be seen around each other at work if Iâm working a job that requires it?â
Sunghoon thinks hard.
âYouâre really asking to fuck your way up the ladder?â
âArenât you the one who offered it so I wouldnât tell your dirty little secret?â You narrow your eyes at him. âBut no, Iâm asking for the job Iâve been trying to earn for ages. Besides, Iâd still fuck you anyway.â
âFair.â Sunghoon thinks harder still. âRhonda would probably find out too, if she were to get the position anyway, considering my assistants are often intertwined in my personal business as well.â
âOh, Iâm personal business now?â
âBabe, my hand has been on your tit for an hour now.âÂ
Well, heâs not wrong.
âRhonda is really close with HR tooâŠâ You trail off, feeling a bit anxious. âI think sheâd hold it over both of us if she found out.âÂ
âIn all fairness, youâve been considered for the job more than a few times the past few months. Rhonda only applied during your two week avoidance of me. The reason sheâs even up for the position is because my boss thinks youâre too flaky.âÂ
Oh, so you have a chance with or without putting his dick in your mouth again?
âWho else has applied?â
âConfidential.â Sunghoon shrugs. âI still have to follow company rules even if weâre breaking a few of them right now. What I can tell you is, over fifteen other candidates have already been phased out by me personally.âÂ
You pause.
âWhy?â
âBad matches, mostly. Two of them have been caught talking shit about me through the company emails, and the others? Many outside applicants, all freshman college students with strict schedules.â
âBeing my assistant is not an easy job, and even before all of this, youâve practically been doing the job already, better than the current assistant I have.â
You damn fucking right you have.
âHow many are still in the running?â
âTwo.â
Oh, this job is soooooo yours.Â
âJust, one more thing.â Sunghoon sighs. âIf you get this job, we cannot be fucking in my office. No sexual stuff at work. We can take lunch together, or Iâll bring you home after work, but absolutely nothing at work.â
Oh, he thinks you want him that badly?Â
âWho says I need to fuck you during work hours anyway? I know how to control myself.â
âItâs not you who Iâm worried about.â Sunghoon looks away, biting the inside of his cheek.
âYeah?â You smile. âYou gonna be calling me into your office just to torture yourself?â
âOh, absolutely.âÂ
ă»ă»ă»ă»ă»ă»ă»ă»ă»ă»ă»ă»ă»ă»
pls remember to leave feedback and reblog! :D love you!
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I think an underrated angle on 2x05 is something that either Jacob or Assad said in some interview somewhere, which is that in that episode Louis is addicted to heroin. Thats why he has that whole stash of drugs that he gives to Daniel, that's why he gives Daniel the drugs even though he's already got him alone. He didn't just use those 128 boys for sex he was using them to get high. Bring them home, get them to shoot up, and then drain them to get that secondhand high.
It clarifies something that's always confused me about that scene, which is why Armand saves Daniel the first time. He wouldn't save Daniel as a person, he clearly knows Daniel needs to die, but he's not seeing Daniel as a person there. Daniel is just a substance. He rips him away from Louis to stop him from using.
And i think that adds a whole other layer to the fight he and Armand have to think that this is Louis on a bender, with Armand cleaning up after him because he's not stable enough to. Louis in the bed for a week isn't just healing from the burns, he's going through withdrawal. Him at the table with Daniel giving him the "bright young reporter" speech is probably the first time he's been sober in months.
It adds another layer to Armand's desperation, that Louis has been running from both Armand and himself in this way, and of course Armand wants to erase that memory. Of course he wants to pretend that that fight never happened. Not just to protect himself but in a way to protect Louis from having said those things. When he describes the fight to Louis afterwards, he says "you said the worst things you've ever said to me." And he doesn't really know how to forgive Louis for that so he just wants to bury this rock-bottom moment and move on like it never happened. After all, Louis was high, he didn't really mean it, but if he remembers then maybe he might think that he had a point. Better to wipe the whole experience away.
#imagine youre in an eternal spite marriage with your ex who you're in love with because he's in love with your other ex#who youre also in love with#and your spitehusband who hates you turns to drugs to cope with the traumatic death of his daughter (which you caused but who's counting)#and you just follow him around cleaning up his messes and propping him up and keeping him alive#because despite everything you do love him#and you find him mid bender and he's told his life story to a reporter and he didn't even mention you#and you're just trying to protect him from himself so he doesn't pass out in a pool of blood on the floor#and he tells you that you're a burden#that youre the thing thats killing him#that 10 hours with a stranger made him feel more alive than your whole relationship#and he says that youre BORING#that all your trauma and grief and fear made you UNINTERESTING#yeah id do some saw trap shit too#blorboposting#benni proof#interview with the vampire#loumand#iwtv
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I was wondering if you could do a fic where the reader is pregnant with Aegons baby but when he usurps the throne she and Jace pretend the baby is his so she doesnât have to face consequences for sleeping with Aegon đ«¶đŒ
I'm back from my trip and back to writing/posting!! I hope you enjoyed the requests I had queued while I was away
Warnings: mention of pregnancy
my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time
â
Standing in your nightgown, you looked down where your belly would swell very soon, your hand covering the slightest curve. A babe was growing there. A little babe with white hair and dark eyes, like the one in your dream. A perfect mix of you and Aegon.Â
Youâve known for two moons that you were with child, but had not been able to tell anyone. When your bloodmoon was late, you thought of going to Kingâs Landing and tell Aegon in person, but the King drew his last breath and the Greens usurped your motherâs throne before you could get on your dragon.Â
Youâve been hiding your secret under your clothes, but your belly was starting to grow and show through your looser dresses. You could no longer keep your pregnancy a secret.Â
The issue was, you could not tell Aegon. The Greens would make the babe a part of the war and tell their supporters that Rhaenyra was keeping Aegon from his child, and you didnât wish that. You wanted this unborn babe to be safe.Â
So you told Jacaerys.Â
There is nothing Jacaerys would not do to protect his twin sister. He would throw himself in front of a fire to shield you and commit war crimes for you.Â
You jumped when you heard another knock on your door, immediately removing your hand from your belly. You assumed it was one of the servants asking if you wanted your evening meal brought up to your chamber, but the knock was different. Special.Â
ââCome.ââ You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand, erasing all traces of tears.
The door opened and Jacaerys stepped in, dressed in his riding gear. You could smell the dragon from across the room, meaning he must have been in Vermaxâs company.Â
ââHave you spoken to Mother about my plan?ââ he asked after closing the door. ââI know we said we would never wed each other, but I see no other option than to claim the babe as mine.ââÂ
As he spoke of the babe in your belly, your hand fell to protectively lay over your stomach as it was before Jacaerys came in. You shook your head, and he noticed the tear stains on your face and the signs or irritation around your eyes.
A pained look crossed his face. ââHave you been crying?ââÂ
You turned your head away from him, confirming his guess.Â
ââSister...ââ His voice was gentle as he stepped forward, a soft hand being placed over your hip, but you shrugged him off, refusing to look him in the face. ââI promised I would protect you and the babe. You need not to worry anymore.ââ
You shake your head, the tears already welling in your eyes again. ââWhat if the babe has white hair? How will we explain that to the realm, Jace?ââÂ
ââWeâll say nothing. Like Mother did when we came out of her womb with dark hair,ââ he replied.Â
ââI refuse for my child to have their legitimacy put into question and live through the same accusations we went through as children.ââ
Your little affair with Aegon was a secret to most. All thought that you were just close, not close. If a babe with white hair came out of your womb, Alicent will know. She will either request Aegon to claim the bastard child or have the babe slain so, in case it was a boy, you would not try to claim the throne.
You felt sick at the thought of the latter. Aegon would never allow the death of his child. He loved you.
Jacaerys pulled you into an embrace, no words coming out of his mouth. He let you bury your head in his shoulder and silently cry for as long as you needed.Â
ââI wonât let it happen,ââ he assured, feeling the soft curve of your belly pressing against his stomach. ââNo matter what anyone says or does, I promise I will always be by your side, raising, loving and defending this babe as strongly as I would defend you. I will never allow anyone to harm him or her.ââ
â
House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios@lover-of-helios@shine101 @tanyaherondale @mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme  @shine101  @tetgod @clayzayden @memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron  @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08 @mymultiveres @secretsthathauntus @puffycreamcakes @thirsty4nonlivingmen @naty-1001 @katiepie67 @moshpot24x @hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler @saturn-sas @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag @wondxrgurl @aerangi @strmborns @astridyoo15 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz @vane1999-blog @fairyfolkloresposts @todaywasafairytale07 @otomaniac @zgzgzh @thebeardedmoon @golden-library @kikyrizuki @hnslchw @camy85 @winxschester @armstrongscommentsection @withfireandbl00d @randomstory56 @JudgmentDays-Girl @darylandbethfanforever9 @darylandbethfanforever9 @aegonswife @dakotapaigelove @jays-bullshit @blublock404 @Icefyre19 @paulilvsremus @mfedits @aemondwhoresworld @angrybirdxx @YarianyIrizarry @frutiloopslupin @minedofmoria @aleemendoza2425-blog @quinquinquincy @Rosey1981 @maria-reads-everything @eddieslut69 @barnes70stark @baybaybear @prettyduckling22 @Briefwinnerpersonaturtle @darlingcharling-blog @deliaseastar @Wolfgirl-205 @visenyareads @Nanaldy @Lovelywiseprincess @not-neverland06 @newtmyhusb @mikimimic
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#jacaerys velaryon x reader#jacaerys velaryon#prince jacaerys#jacaerys x reader#house targaryen#house of the dragon#house of the dragon imagine#hotd
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this is a random thought bc i got angsty, so!
walburga, who âin a mad attempt to stop regulus from becoming like sirius after he runs away from homeâ, obliviates regulus.
not completely, of course, but he makes him believe that he never had a brother in the first place. regulus is now the sole black heir and that's everything he knows; i don't put it past her to erase most of the abuse she caused, but still left enough to make him scared to disobey her.
and, like, it takes everyone too long to realize it.
first, sirius is not surprised his brother doesn't look at him anymore and pretty much pretends he doesn't exist, their bond has been severed completely to him, even if it hurts. and, well, he sort of wanted to get rid of his last name completely, so he pretty much asked everyone to not call him 'sirius black' ever again. so, how could regulus suspect anything.
then, everyone in slytherin knows not to talk about sirius in front of regulus (because he used to jinx them almost to death for that), and, sirius was officially disowned by the black family, so they do speak about regulus as the sole heir, as if sirius wasn't ever in the picture.
it's maybe pandora who finds out first.
barty and evan aren't sirius' biggest fans, and they don't like to confront regulus about how he feels, unless he's the one who wants to vent. they think that his way of coping is pretending like nothing happened, and while that's not healthy at all, regulus looks fine, super fine, even. so why would they want to interrupt his peace.
dorcas has been distancing a bit from them, because of the whole voldemort situation. she's no longer with them enough to realize regulus has been acting strange.
and pandora was a bit like evan and barty, at first. especially because, she knows regulus doesn't keep anything that's really hurting him for long. not to them. they just like to give him enough space to process and cool down. they let him come to them, and they will be waiting.
but then, regulus doesn't.
so, after a while she decides to ask him about sirius.
when regulus just answers "who's sirius?" with the most genuine and confused face on earth. she knows exactly what has happened.
i haven't thought further into it, maybe evan, barty and dora argue about what to do. the right thing would be to help him get back his memories. but regulus looks so much better without the heartbreak sirius has been unintentionally causing him since first year. and sirius seems to love his new life as the potter's ward. maybe that's the right thing.
but also, they know that, even with all the pain that he has caused him, regulus loves his brother more than anything and wouldn't want to just be forced to forget about him.
yeah. that was my random thought of the night. toodles!
#jegulus#marauders#wolfstar#regulus and sirius#sirius black#regulus black#the black brothers#house of black#the marauders era#the marauders#hp marauders#hp#harry potter
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For me it's easier to sympathize zaunite characters rather than piltovan ones simply because they have self-awareness
Silco knows he flooded Zaun with drugs, he knows what this shit does to people. He does it anyway to achieve his main goal - Nation of Zaun.
Jinx is aware she is crazy. She basically spells it out in s1 ep9. She knows that she killing ppl is bad. She just doesn't care
Sevika is Silco's right hand man. She does dirty job for him and and understands perfectly well how his methods affect Zaun. She doesn't even question it because his methods work, and as long as they work, she will work with him.
Singed is just the same. He'll do anything for his daughter no matter how horrific his actions are. He doesn't justify it, simply states it was "for love".
And what we have with piltovan characters? You see because s2 is trying to pretend that oppression wasn't such big thing all piltovan characters looks even worse.
Caitlyn gasses people (and not only barons and their goons, gas spreads), using her priveledge as a Sheriff and Councilor's daughter. She never adresses that and never spells out what had she'd done. Like, yeah, she says "we can't erase our mistakes" (s2 ep8) probably not meaning just Jinx's but also her own but that's so⊠shallow. Like writers couldn't let her really say aloud what she'd done and face consequences bc it would makes bad things too real.
Heimerdinger was one of the founders of Piltover and councilor. He either didn't know, either didn't care to figure out what happens in Undercity for decades. Like, he goes to Zaun after he gets kicked out from Council and finally realises how badly ppl live there but⊠he just closes his eyes on it? Again?
Jayce killed that kid in s1 and regretted it but once his mother tries to revenge him? Builds weapons immidiately as countermeasure and moves on. He kills dozens of zaunites in Viktor's commune by killing Viktor and doesn't show even a hint of remorse. Like yeah, they were gonna become creepy robots but you know they were still humans when he killed Viktor. Also he (with approval of the Council for sure) places that Hexgates' big core (dont remember how that shit was called) underground and if that thing would blow up Zaun would be left without water and fresh air. Spelled out by Ekko and immediately forgotten.
In the end by removing characters' awareness of their actions and lack of reflection makes piltovan characters either hypocrites, either stupid, either both. And no, i don't want all these characters to be punished for what they did (all chars - except Ekko maybe - would end up in jail lol) I just want characters to realize what they did. I want impact of their actions/inactions. I want real consequences. I want them to face these consequences, not just brush it aside. And then i want them to act according to their personalities, even if i personally wouldn't like what they'd do.
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"So f**king stupid"
Based on this request
Summary: You've been neglecting your pregnant wife for a while now, and so when you come home early from a mission, what do you realize?
Warnings: Pregnant Nat, Angst, Hurt, Insecurity, Stupid reader. hurt/comfort. Minor swearing
ĐŒĐ°Đ»ŃŃĐșĐ° - Little one
--
It had been weeks since Natasha had felt the warmth of your embrace for more than a fleeting moment. Your once bustling mornings, where youâd share quiet cups of coffee and stolen glances, had become a distant memory. Instead, Natasha watched the clock tick as she waited for you to finish whatever mission or task had consumed your attention for the day.
When you finally appeared, it was never long enough. Five minutes for a rushed lunch, barely enough time to talk, before youâd sprint off for another meeting, debriefing with Steve, or diving into Tonyâs chaos. Natasha tried not to take it personally, but as the days passed, she couldnât help but feel like she was being left behind.
She had suggested lunch together, but you were too caught up. "I have five minutes, and then I need to brief Steve on the mission,â you had said, eyes scanning the files in your hands as you quickly stuffed the sandwich into your mouth.
"Five minutes," Natasha echoed, the sting of disappointment lacing her words. She didn't want to argue or demand more of you, but the gap between the two of you felt insurmountable now. The movie night you had planned, a quiet, cozy evening for the two of you, never came to fruition. âI canât, babe. Iâm helping Tony with the teamâs weapons. Iâll make it up to you,â you had promised, but the days turned into weeks, and Natasha was left curled up on the couch, movie tickets long forgotten.
Then came the nightsâquiet nights. Natasha would curl up in bed, waiting for you, her eyes growing heavy with exhaustion. Youâd pass through the door just as she was about to fall asleep, your face flushed from running through the dayâs tasks. Sheâd offer a smile, but you would always say the same thing.
âDonât wait up. I have a ton of files to go through.â
And Natasha would nod, pretending everything was fine, even as she lay in the dark, alone.
Sometimes, other members of the team would come by, but they were too busy to stay long, and Natasha wasnât about to burden them with her own loneliness. She didnât want to be the needy partner who demanded attention. So, she tried to fill the silence by keeping busy, like working on her own training or catching up with Clint, but even that didnât erase the quiet emptiness she felt in your absence.
You hadnât realized. Or maybe, you hadnât noticed how much youâd drifted away. Your focus was on the mission, on keeping the team safe, on the work that needed to be done, and Natasha understood that. She wasnât angry with you. But somewhere between the late nights and early mornings, she had slipped through the cracks.
And with the passing weeks, Natasha's growing discomfort seemed to only intensify. She had always been strong, capable, but the changes happening in her body, combined with your increasing absence, were slowly eating away at her. She tried to brush it off, to remain the confident, fierce Black Widow, but deep down, doubts gnawed at her.
Her body had changed as the baby grew, and she could feel her insecurities creeping in. The soft curves, the slight roundness in her belly, the changes she couldnât ignore. She knew, intellectually, that it was natural, that this was a process she was supposed to embrace. But all she could see was the woman she once was slipping further and further from view, replaced by someone unfamiliar.
And you, the person she needed most, were always busy. You were still there, but you werenât really there. Youâd rush in and out, offering half-hearted apologies when you saw the sadness in her eyes, but it never seemed enough. She didnât want to burden you more, didnât want to add to your already overflowing plate, so she remained silent, trying to make do with the little moments she could grab in between your tasks.
But then, as the days stretched into weeks, something shifted. The way you looked at her, or maybe the way you didnât look at her. It was subtle at first, but Natasha started to feel invisible. Was it the baby? Was she no longer desirable to you? The fear of you losing interest in her started to fester deep inside. She knew you loved her, but that didnât make the pain of being neglected any less real.
She tried to convince herself that it was just the stress, the weight of being an Avenger, but the fear of you leaving her, especially with the baby on the way, made her chest tighten. And it all festered until that fateful night.
--
It wasn't that late but the house was dark and quiet, the faint hum of the refrigerator the only sound as you slipped inside. The mission had wrapped up early, for once, and instead of your usual routine of staying to finish reports or help Tony tweak weapons, youâd decided to come home. Natasha had been on your mind all day, you missed her and wanted to see your favourite person and soon-to-be other favourite person (your baby) again.
As you walked down the hallway toward your bedroom, you noticed the faint light seeping through the slightly ajar door. You slowed, intending to surprise her, but the soft sound of her voice made you pause.
Natasha was talking. No, she was⊠whispering.
You peeked through the crack in the door, and your heart clenched at the sight. She was sitting up in bed, her arms wrapped protectively around her swollen belly, her head bowed as though in deep conversation. Her voice was thick with emotion, barely above a whisper, but every word carried the weight of her pain.
âHey, ĐŒĐ°Đ»ŃŃĐșĐ°,â she began, her tone soft and vulnerable in a way you hadnât heard in months. âItâs just us again tonight. I guess thatâs nothing new, huh?â
You froze, your breath catching in your throat. She thought she was alone, pouring her heart out to the child growing inside her.
âI know sheâs busy. Sheâs saving the world, like always. And Iâm so proud of her. I really am,â Natasha said, her hand rubbing gentle circles over her belly. âBut itâs hard, you know? Feeling like Iâm the only one here. Like sheâs forgotten about us.â
Your chest tightened, the guilt clawing at your insides as you stayed rooted in place, unable to interrupt her.
âMaybe itâs me,â Natasha continued, her voice cracking. âMaybe sheâs just... not attracted to me anymore. I mean, look at me.â She let out a hollow laugh, one that sounded more like a sob. âIâm not the same woman she married. Iâm bigger, slower, more emotional. I cry at stupid things like movies now. I wouldnât blame her if she looked at me and thought, âThis isnât who I fell in love with.ââ
âNo, Nat,â you whispered under your breath, tears stinging your eyes.
âShe probably thinks Iâm too clingy,â Natasha said after a long pause. âBut itâs just... I miss her. I miss the way she used to hold me, talk to me, look at me like I was her entire world. And now... now I feel like Iâm just another thing on her to-do list.â
You wanted to burst in, to tell her how wrong she was, but you couldnât move. Her words pinned you in place, each one hitting you like a punch to the gut.
Natashaâs voice softened again, almost a whisper. âIâm scared, ĐŒĐ°Đ»ŃŃĐșĐ° . What if she leaves? What if she realizes she doesnât want this life, doesnât want me... or you?â
Your knees nearly buckled as she continued, her words slicing through you like shards of glass.
âIâm trying to be strong for us. But some days, I feel like Iâm falling apart.â Natasha sniffled, her voice trembling. âI just hope... I hope youâll know how much I love you. Even if she doesnât stay, youâll always have me. I promise, okay?â
That was it. You couldnât take another second of her pain. Pushing the door open, you stepped inside, and Natashaâs head snapped up, her tear-streaked face a mixture of shock and mortification.
âY/N?â she whispered, her voice barely audible. âHow long have you been standing there?â
You didnât answer. You couldnât. The lump in your throat was too thick, and the shame was too heavy. Instead, you crossed the room in a few quick strides, sinking to your knees in front of her.
âTasha,â you choked out, your voice breaking, unable to conjure any words.
Her eyes widened, and she shook her head quickly, reaching for your hands. âNo, Y/N, I didnât meanââ
âNo,â you interrupted, your voice trembling with emotion. âDonât do that. Donât try to downplay it. Iâve been so blind, so caught up in everything else, that I didnât even see how much Iâve hurt you.â
Your eyes glistened as you looked up at her, your heart breaking at the sight of her swollen belly and the raw pain in her eyes. âIâve been such a selfish idiot, Nat. Youâre my wife. Youâre carrying our child, and Iâve been neglecting you. I let you feel alone, and I let you doubt yourself. God, Iâm so fucking stupid.â
Natasha tried to squeeze your hands, to reassure you, but it only made you feel worse. âI know youâre busy,â she began, her voice soft and hesitant. âI didnât meanââ
âNo, donât,â you pleaded, cutting her off. âPlease donât make excuses for me. I donât deserve it. Iâve been putting everything else first when it should have been you. Iâve been taking you for granted, and I hate myself for it.â
She hesitated, her lips trembling, and you could see the walls sheâd tried to build around her pain start to crumble. âI just... I didnât want to be a burden,â she admitted quietly.
âYou could never be a burden,â you said firmly, cupping her face in your hands. âYou and our baby are the most important things in my life. And Iâve been so stupid, Nat. Iâve been so caught up in everything else that I didnât realize what I was doing to you, to us.â
âIâm so sorry, Iâplease forgive me, Nat. I promise, I promise, Iâll be here. Iâll be here for you, for the baby. I swear, Iâll make it up to you.â
She looked up at you, her eyes filled with tears of her own, and for a moment, she was silent. But then she nodded, slowly, her face softening with the first real sense of relief youâd seen from her in weeks.
âYou mean it?â Her voice was small, fragile, but hopeful.
âI mean it,â you whispered, pulling her into your arms, holding her tightly. âIâll be here, Nat. Iâm sorry. Iâm so sorry for everything. Youâll never feel alone again.â
She melted into your embrace, her arms wrapping around you as her tears fell silently against your skin.
âIâve missed you,â she whispered, her voice shaking. âIâve missed you so much.â
"I missed you too", you whispered back with a kiss to her forehead.
And you held her tighter, never wanting to let go. The weight of the past weeks hung between you, but in that moment, as you both finally allowed the distance between you to close, it felt like there was hope. Hope that, despite everything, you could fix this. You could be the partner she deserved. The mother of your child. The one she needed.
And youâd never make her feel alone again.
#avengers#natasha romanoff#black widow#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanov#natasha x y/n#natasha marvel#pregnant!nat#natalia alianovna romanova#natasha romanoff angst#natasha romanoff hurt/comfort#natasha x reader#natasha romonova
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drunk tonight â ryomen sukuna.
"Yes, we can." he murmurs, his voice a soft, dominant caress that contrasts sharply with the intensity of the moment. His lips press against your jaw with a sharp, possessive kiss, and you feel your head loll against his, unable to escape the overwhelming sensations. His words are both a promise and a demand, a statement that attempts to bridge the gap between the pain and the passion youâre experiencing. "Because I love you. And you love me."
GENRE: alternate universe - modern au!;
WARNING/S: nsfw, angst, toxic romance, hurt/no comfort, break up, fighting, crying, hurt, physical touch, sexual content, sadness, pain, grief, unhappy ending, depictions of toxic relationship, depiction of grief, depiction of fighting, depiction of sexual content, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of sexual context, mention of loneliness, toxic ex-boyfriend! sukuna, long suffering ex-girlfriend! reader;
WORD COUNT: 9.4k words
NOTE: the thought bubble says "yes, we can." and "because i love you. and you love me."; i wrote this a while back but i was waiting for the poll to end. but if sukuna wins, then he definitely has his stuff posted first. somehow, sukuna always wins my polls đđđ anyway, i hope you love this one too!!! i love you all đ«¶đ«¶đ«¶
masterlist
if you want to, tip! <3
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YOU DONâT WANT TO ANSWER THE PHONE. Late at night, your phone buzzes, its vibration cutting through the silence like a knife. You glance at the screen, feeling a chill run down your spine as you recognize the number. Itâs a number you know all too well, one that youâve tried to erase from your mind but could never quite forget, no matter how hard you tried.
A sigh escapes your lips, your heart sinking as Sukunaâs name flashes across the screen. Itâs a name that once brought you comfort, excitement, even love. But now, itâs just a reminder of everything that went wrong, of the hurt and the scars that never fully healed.
Youâve blocked him on everythingâsocial media, messaging apps, even email. You thought you had cut off every possible avenue for him to reach you, but he always remembered your phone number.Â
He was always good at thatâmemorizing details, knowing exactly how to reach you when you least wanted him to. It was one of the things that drew you to him in the first place, his ability to know you so well, to be so in tune with you. But now, itâs a curse, a reminder that no matter how far you try to run, he can always find you.
The text is a mess of jumbled letters and half-formed words, the kind of message that only makes sense to the sender. You can almost hear his deep, slurred voice in your head as you read it, the way he used to talk when he was too far gone, too deep into the bottle. Heâs drunk, that much is obvious, and the thought makes your stomach churn.
You roll your eyes, frustration bubbling up inside you. Thereâs nothing worse than a drunk ex-text. Itâs a toxic mix of emotionsâregret, anger, longingâall wrapped up in a few poorly typed words. You know how this goes, how the night will unravel if you let it.Â
Heâll keep texting, maybe even call, and each message will be more desperate, more incoherent than the last. Heâll say things he doesnât mean, make promises he canât keep, and youâll be left holding the pieces of a conversation that never should have happened.
For a moment, you consider ignoring it, just turning off your phone and pretending you never saw it. But you know that wonât make it go away. You know that as long as Sukuna has your number, as long as he has a way to reach you, this cycle will keep repeating itself.
You take a deep breath, your fingers hovering over the screen. You could respond, tell him to stop, to leave you alone once and for all. But part of you knows that wonât work either. Youâve told him before, and yet here you are, staring at another late-night message from the man you once loved.
Your thumb hovers over the message, the words blurring in your tired eyes. You want to be strong, to resist the pull of old emotions and familiar patterns. But thereâs a part of you thatâs still connected to him, a part that wants to reach out, to understand why he canât just let you go.
But you know better. Youâve been down this road too many times before. And as much as it hurts, as much as it feels like tearing a piece of your heart out, you know what you have to do. With a sigh, you delete the message, your chest tightening as you do. You close your eyes, trying to block out the guilt, the sadness, the tiny voice in your head that says maybe this time will be different. But you know it wonât. It never is.
You canât even muster the energy to be angry. Itâs all too familiar, the cycle of hurt and regret that you both keep getting sucked into. You start typing back, your fingers trembling slightly with the weight of it all.
âSukuna, stop. Wherever you are, just stop.â You hesitate, your thumb hovering over the screen. But you need to say thisâyou need to finally put it to rest. âThis hurts, all of it. Itâs a mess, and weâve broken up. You need to stop chasing after me. We canât go back.â
Thereâs a long pause. You wonder if heâll leave it at that, but another text pings through.
âI canât⊠I canât live with this without trying. PleaseâŠâ
You swallow hard, feeling the ache in your chest, but youâve made up your mind. This is a wound that needs to heal, and reopening it will only make it worse.
âSukuna, Iâm done. You need to be, too.â You send the message, and this time, you turn off your phone. The silence that follows is almost deafening, but itâs the first step towards finally moving on.
You purse your lips, staring at the screen as his last message burns into your mind. You know heâs just too drunk tonight. He doesnât really want you backânot the way he thinks he does. Heâs just broken inside, sad and high, and you can feel the weight of his loneliness pressing through the words.
A lump forms in your throat as the urge to cry wells up again. It hurts because deep down, you know the truth. He doesnât want you back. Heâs just lonely, aching for something familiar to fill the void. Youâve been there before, reaching out in desperation, hoping for comfort in the arms of someone who used to mean everything. But that was then, and this is now.
You type slowly, forcing yourself to keep going, even though each word feels like a knife twisting deeper into your heart. "Sukuna, youâre not really after me. Youâre just lonely and sad, and I get that. But this⊠us⊠itâs over. We ended things for a reason."
Your fingers hesitate over the next part, but you push through the pain. "We hurt each other too much. I didnât want to be with you anymore because all we did was tear each other apart. And I donât want that for either of us."
You take a shaky breath, knowing what you need to say, even if it feels like ripping off a bandage from a wound that hasnât fully healed. "So put down the phone, Sukuna. Itâs time to go home. Youâre just drunk tonight.â
You hit send, and the tears that youâve been holding back finally spill over. Youâve been strong for so long, but tonight, in the quiet of your room, you allow yourself to feel the full weight of everything youâve lost and everything youâve chosen to leave behind.
You ended things because you knew it was the right thing to do, but that doesnât make it any easier. And even though youâre telling him to move on, a part of you is whispering the same words to yourself. Itâs time to let go, for real this time. Itâs time to heal, even if that means facing the pain head-on and accepting that some things can never be fixed.
Your phone rings, and your heart sinks as you see his name flashing across the screen. You hesitate, your thumb hovering over the decline button. You know you shouldnât answer, know that nothing good can come from this. But some part of youâmaybe out of concern, maybe out of habitâhits the green button.
âSukuna, donâtââ
âIâm on my way.â he interrupts, his voice slurred but filled with a determination that chills you. âI need to see you. We need to talk.â
Your stomach drops, and a sense of dread washes over you. âNo, Sukuna. Donât do this. Youâre not thinking straight.â
Thereâs a pause on the other end, a brief silence where you can hear him breathing heavily, as if heâs fighting to keep his composure. âI have to see you.â he repeats, softer this time, almost pleading. âPlease. IâŠ..I want to see you. I wannaâŠI wanna be with you.â
âSukuna, please.â you say, your voice trembling. âYouâre drunk, youâre not yourself. Turn around and go home. Youâre only going to make this harderâfor both of us.â
âI donât care.â he snaps, and you can hear the desperation creeping into his voice. A desperation thatâs never been there before. âI canât keep living like this, pretending I donât need you. Iâll be there soon.â
Panic starts to set in. You feel trapped, knowing that no amount of reasoning will get through to him tonight. âSukuna, if you show up here, I wonât open the door. I mean it.â
Thereâs a harsh laugh on the other end. âYou will. You always do.â
His words hit you like a punch to the gut because theyâre true, or at least they were. You canât deny the history between you two, the countless times youâve stood at the edge of this same precipice, teetering between resolve and surrender.Â
How many times had you given in, opened the door, and let him back into your life, even when every fiber of your being screamed that you shouldnât? Youâve lost count, the memories blurring together into a painful montage of late-night confessions, tearful apologies, and broken promises.
Each time, you told yourself it would be the last. You would stand firm, hold your ground, and finally cut the ties that bound you to him. But then he would show upâvulnerable, raw, and desperateâand the walls you had so carefully constructed would crumble in an instant.Â
He knew exactly how to reach you, how to twist the knife just enough to remind you of what you once had, what you once were. And for a fleeting moment, youâd believe that maybe, just maybe, things could be different this time.
But they never were. The darkness that surrounded him, that clung to your relationship like a shroud, always found a way to seep back in. It would start slowlyâa harsh word here, a lingering silence thereâbut soon, it would consume you both, dragging you back into a toxic cycle of pain and regret. Each time you let him back in, you lost a little more of yourself, a little more of the light that once defined who you were.
But you canât do that anymore. You canât keep losing pieces of yourself to a love that no longer serves you, to a relationship that has long since become a shadow of what it once was. Youâve fought too hard to reclaim your life, to step out of the darkness and into the light of something better, something healthier. Youâve built yourself back up, brick by brick, and you canât let him tear it all down again.
This time, it has to be different. This time, you canât open the door, no matter how much he begs, no matter how much it hurts to turn him away. You canât let him drag you back into the darkness that you fought so hard to escape. You deserve moreâmore than late-night texts filled with empty promises, more than a love that only thrives in the shadows. You deserve peace, stability, and a future that isnât haunted by the ghosts of a past you canât change.
So you take a deep breath, steeling yourself against the familiar pull of his words, the seductive lure of what could have been. You remind yourself of the pain, the nights spent crying, the days filled with anxiety and doubt. You remind yourself that youâve survived without him, that youâve thrived in ways you never could have imagined when you were still caught in his web.
And as much as it hurts, as much as it feels like a betrayal of everything you once held dear, you know that you have to let him go. You have to close the door, lock it, and walk awayâthis time for good. Because if you donât, youâll never truly be free. And freedom, you realize, is worth more than any fleeting moment of comfort he could offer. You canât let him pull you back into the darkness. Youâve come too far, and itâs time to finally step into the light.
âNo, I wonât.â you say, forcing steel into your voice. âNot this time. If you care about me at all, youâll turn around and go home. Youâll stop this before it gets worse.â
He doesnât respond right away, and for a moment, you think maybe, just maybe, heâll listen. But then he speaks again, his voice rough and broken. âIâm almost there. Just⊠wait for me.â
Your heart is racing now, your mind scrambling for what to do. âSukuna, if you come here, Iâll call the police. Iâm serious.â
Thereâs a sharp intake of breath on the other end, and then, finally, silence. You think heâs hung up, but then he speaks again, his voice barely above a whisper. âIâm sorry⊠Iâm sorry for everything. But I have to try.â
He hangs up before you can respond, leaving you standing there, staring at your phone with your heart pounding in your chest. You feel sick, torn between the history you share and the need to protect yourself from the man heâs become.
You take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside you. You donât want to call the police, donât want to escalate things that far, but you need to be ready. You need to stay strong, for your own sake.
With trembling hands, you lock your door, turn off the lights, and sit down on the edge of your bed, phone clutched tightly in your hand. You wait, praying that heâll turn around, that heâll finally realize that what you had is gone, and itâs time to let it go. But deep down, you know this isnât overânot tonight, not until heâs standing at your door, and youâre forced to make the hardest decision of your life.
The minutes tick by slowly, each one heavier than the last. You sit in the dark, your breath shallow and your nerves frayed, listening for any sound that might signal his arrival. Every car that passes by your window makes your heart jump, your mind conjuring images of him stumbling out, determined and reckless.
You think back to the times when things were good between you two, when his intensity was something you admired, even loved. But that intensity had turned into something else, something darker and more destructive, and you couldnât let it consume you both any longer.
Your phone vibrates again, pulling you out of your thoughts. Another message from Sukuna:
âIâm here.â
You freeze, your blood running cold. Heâs close, maybe right outside. You stand up slowly, moving toward the window with a mix of dread and resolve. Peering through the curtains, you see his figure in the dim light, leaning against a lamppost across the street, his silhouette unmistakable.
He looks up, and even from this distance, you can see the torment in his eyes, the way his shoulders sag with the weight of whatever heâs carrying. But you canât let that sway you. Youâve made your choice, and you need to stand by it.
Your phone vibrates again, the familiar buzz sending a jolt through your already frayed nerves. You donât even need to look at the screen to know itâs him. The notification hangs in the air like a weight, pressing down on your chest, making it hard to breathe.
With a trembling hand, you unlock your phone, the brightness of the screen almost blinding in the darkness of your room. His message is there, short and desperate, the words filled with a plea that youâve heard too many times before:
âPlease, just open the door. We can talk, I swear. I wonât make a scene.â
You close your eyes, willing yourself to stay calm, to keep the tears at bay. His voice echoes in your mind, the deep, gravelly tone that once brought you comfort now only serves to break you down. You can almost picture him on the other side of that door, his eyes wide with that familiar mix of anger and sadness, his posture tense with anticipation. Heâs close, so close that you can feel his presence like a shadow creeping over your heart.
It would be so easy to give in, to let him in one more time, to listen to whatever promises he has prepared for tonight. After all, youâve done it beforeâopened that door despite knowing it would lead to nothing but more heartache. But tonight feels different. Tonight, thereâs a finality in the air, a sense that if you open that door now, it wonât just be another mistake; it will be the last one, the one that shatters whatever remnants of strength youâve managed to hold onto.
You swallow hard, your throat tight with the urge to cry. You know him too well; you know he wonât leave unless you confront him, unless you face him head-on. Heâs stubborn like that, relentless in his pursuit of what he wants, even when itâs somethingâor someoneâthatâs no longer his to claim.Â
But you also know, deep in your bones, that opening that door is the last thing you should do. Itâs a line you canât cross, not this time. Because if you do, youâll be dragged right back into the storm youâve fought so hard to escape. Youâll be pulled into his orbit, where everything is chaotic and intense, where love and pain are intertwined so tightly that you canât tell where one ends and the other begins.
You take a shaky breath, your hand hovering over the door handle as your mind races. What could he possibly say that he hasnât already said? What could he promise that he hasnât already broken? The answers are clear, but the pull of the past is strong, and it tugs at you with a force thatâs hard to resist.
But you have to resist. You have to stay strong, for your own sake. Because you know that once you open that door, once you let him back in, all the progress youâve made, all the nights youâve spent rebuilding yourself, will be undone. Youâll be right back where you startedâlost, hurt, and wondering why you ever let him back into your life.
Your heart aches with the weight of it all, but you know what you have to do. You know that tonight, you have to choose yourself, even if it means walking away from someone you once loved with every part of your being.Â
So you close your eyes, forcing yourself to breathe through the pain, to let it wash over you without letting it consume you. You clench your fists, nails digging into your palms as you fight back the urge to cry, to scream, to throw open that door and let everything unravel.
But you donât. You stay where you are, standing firm in the decision youâve made. Because tonight, for the first time in a long time, youâre choosing to protect your heart instead of breaking it all over again.
You steady your breathing, forcing yourself to stay calm as the reality of the situation sinks in. Each vibration of your phone feels like a pulse of pain, a reminder of the emotional battleground youâre standing on. You know that answering the door would only open the floodgates, allowing the turmoil and chaos of the past to flood back into your life. Youâve fought so hard to reclaim your peace, and you refuse to let it slip away now.
With a deep breath, you take a moment to center yourself. You remind yourself of the reasons youâve decided to cut ties, the countless times youâve faced heartache, and the strength it took to rebuild your life. This decision, though painful, is a necessary step to ensure you donât lose everything youâve worked so hard to achieve.
You get up and move to your front door, standing just a few inches away. The cold, unyielding surface feels like a barrier between you and the chaos youâve left behind. You listen for any soundsâfootsteps, a knockâbut the night is eerily quiet, punctuated only by the occasional rumble of distant traffic. Itâs as if the world itself is holding its breath, waiting for you to make the choice that will define this moment.
Another message from Sukuna pings through, and you resist the urge to check it. Instead, you focus on the decision at hand, the choice youâve already made. You know that the best way to move forward is to keep the past where it belongsâbehind you.
You glance at your phone once more and see that Sukuna has called you again. Your heart races, but you refuse to answer. You let the call go to voicemail, the familiar chime sounding distant and detached. Each unanswered call is a step towards reclaiming your autonomy, towards making it clear that you will not be dragged back into the emotional mess that has defined your relationship.
The minutes tick by slowly, each one feeling like an eternity. Finally, thereâs silenceâno more texts, no more calls. You take a deep breath, letting the calm settle over you. You feel the weight of your decision settle into your bones, a mixture of relief and sorrow. Youâve chosen to protect yourself, to preserve the hard-earned peace youâve fought for.
As you turn away from the door, you feel a mixture of sadness and strength. The pain of seeing Sukunaâs name, the torment of his pleas, is still fresh, but youâve managed to hold firm. Youâve chosen not to open the door, not to let him back into your life. This choice, as difficult as it was, is a testament to your resolve, to your commitment to yourself.
You sit back down, wrapping yourself in a blanket of quiet determination. The tears youâve fought so hard to keep at bay finally come, not as a sign of weakness but as a release of all the emotions youâve been holding inside. Theyâre a reminder of your humanity, of the depth of your feelings, but theyâre also a sign of your strengthâstrength you needed to make the right decision, no matter how hard it was.
Youâve done what you needed to do to protect your heart, and now, you allow yourself to grieve, to heal, and to move forward. You close your eyes, letting the tears flow, and in the silence of your room, you begin the process of letting go, knowing that youâve taken a crucial step toward finding the peace and happiness you deserve.
You reach for your phone, your hands trembling slightly as you begin to type out a message. You need to be firm, clear, and compassionate, even if youâre struggling with your own emotions. You know that any form of communication right now will only complicate things, but you also want to make sure Sukuna understands the finality of your decision.
With a deep breath, you type:
âSukuna, I canât talk to you right now. Please, just go home. We canât have this conversation tonight. I need some space, and I need you to respect that. Please understand and go home.â
You hit send, watching as the message is delivered. For a moment, you feel a flicker of hope that this will be the end of it, that heâll respect your wishes and leave you alone. Youâve made your boundaries clear, and now itâs up to him to honor them.
Minutes pass in tense silence, and your phone stays quiet. You sit back down, trying to calm your racing heart, focusing on the quiet around you instead of the anxiety that has taken root in your chest.
But then, a new message comes through. You donât even need to look to know that itâs from Sukuna. With a heavy heart, you open it:
âI just need to see you. Iâm sorry for everything, but I canât let this end like this. Please.â
You can almost hear the desperation in his words, the anguish that comes from knowing heâs losing you. But you also know that this isnât just about you and him anymore. Itâs about your own well-being, your need to set boundaries and stick to them, even when itâs incredibly hard.
You type back:
âNo, Sukuna. This is not the time. Iâve made my decision, and I need you to respect it. I canât keep doing this. Please, just go home.â
You hit send, feeling the weight of your words settle heavily on your shoulders. Youâre asking for something that feels almost impossibleâto respect a boundary when emotions are high, when both of you are vulnerable. But itâs necessary.Â
You put your phone aside and try to find a way to soothe the emotional storm inside you. You remind yourself of why you made this decision, of the personal growth youâve achieved, and the need to maintain your peace. You try to focus on the positives of your life and the future youâre working toward, hoping that with time, the pain of this moment will fade and youâll find a way to heal.
Hours tick by slowly, each minute feeling like an eternity. Finally, thereâs a quiet relief in knowing that, at least for now, youâve done all you can. Youâve set your boundaries and communicated your needs as clearly as possible.
You let yourself close your eyes, allowing the exhaustion to wash over you. The road to recovery will be long and fraught with moments like this, but for tonight, youâve taken a crucial step toward reclaiming your life. As you drift into a fitful sleep, you hold onto the hope that tomorrow will bring clarity and a renewed sense of peace, allowing you to continue moving forward.
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IF THERE WAS A LOVE STORY WORTH MENTIONING, ITâS YOURS. Because in truth, it wasnât a love story. It was a painful hurt instead. The romance between you and Sukuna was a tumultuous symphony of passion and pain, a story that oscillated between intense highs and devastating lows. It was a love that consumed everything in its path, leaving behind a trail of broken dreams and shattered hearts.Â
You, the good girl with a heart full of hope and idealism, and him, the quintessential troublemaker whose very presence seemed to stir chaos wherever he went. It was a match made in hell, an explosive combination of purity and defiance that sparked with an almost palpable intensity.Â
From the beginning, there was an undeniable chemistry between you two, a magnetic pull that drew you into Sukunaâs orbit. You were drawn to his raw energy, the way he seemed to live on the edge of every emotion, pushing boundaries and challenging norms. His life was a whirlwind of excitement and unpredictability, and it was a stark contrast to the more controlled and orderly world you inhabited.
At first, the contrasts were thrilling. Your calm demeanor and responsible nature seemed to balance out his reckless tendencies, creating a dynamic that felt electric and invigorating. You believed that your love could be the force that tamed his wildness, that your stability could anchor him amidst his stormy existence.
But as time went on, the initial thrill gave way to a more complex and painful reality. Sukunaâs troublemaking ways began to seep into every aspect of your relationship, turning what was once exciting into something exhausting. His impulsiveness, once charming, became a source of constant stress and conflict. The very qualities that attracted you to him started to feel like burdens, and the harmony you sought began to slip through your fingers.
The highs were dizzyingâmoments of intense connection and fiery passion that made you feel alive and on top of the world. But the lows were equally devastating, each conflict leaving deeper wounds, each argument a reminder of how differently you saw the world. The love that had once seemed like a perfect escape from your own constraints now felt like a whirlwind of chaos that you couldnât control.
Your attempts to bring order and stability to the relationship often clashed with Sukunaâs need for freedom and rebellion. The more you tried to ground him, the more he resisted, and the cycle of conflict and resolution became a relentless pattern. The love that once felt like a daring adventure turned into a series of battles, each one leaving both of you more scared than the last.
Ultimately, the contrast between your worlds proved too great. The boundaries you set were repeatedly crossed, the promises made were broken too many times. The passion that had once ignited your connection became the fuel for your destruction. What began as a match made in hell had devolved into a battlefield of emotional devastation.
You were left to pick up the pieces of a love that had burned too brightly, too destructively. The remnants of your time together were a stark reminder of the dangers of mixing such opposing forces. In the end, the love you shared was a powerful testament to the intense beauty and agony of a relationship that, despite its fiery start, was doomed from the beginning.
From the beginning, the relationship was marked by a magnetic pull that was impossible to ignore. Sukuna's charisma and intensity drew you in, his presence filling every space with an almost palpable energy. There was a fire in his eyes, a promise of something deeper and more profound, and you were captivated by the allure of his raw power and unfiltered emotions.
At first, it felt like a dream. His touch was electric, his words charged with a potent mix of desire and vulnerability. You would get lost in his gaze, swept away by the intensity of his kisses, believing that this was what true love was supposed to feel like. Every argument, every make-up, every moment of passion felt like a confirmation of the bond you shared.
You couldnât stand it anymore, how tired you were. How truly full of it you were. how emotionally drained youâve been. You found yourself face-to-face with Sukuna in the dimly lit living room. He stood close, his gaze intense and his voice almost a whisper, yet filled with an undeniable gravity.
"I'm sorry." Sukuna said, his eyes searching yours for some sign of forgiveness. "I never meant for things to get so out of hand. I just... I can't stand the thought of losing you."
You could feel the weight of his words, the sincerity mixed with a touch of desperation. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart.
"You say that now, but it feels like weâre always back here, fighting and making up," you replied, your voice trembling slightly. "I thought this was supposed to be different. I thought we were building something real."
Sukuna reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek with a gentleness that belied his earlier anger. "It is real. What we have is intense, but itâs real. I know I mess up, but I need you to understand that I canât imagine my life without you. Youâre everything to me."
You looked at him, feeling the familiar mix of pain and passion. âI donât know if I can keep doing this, Sukuna. Every time we fight, it feels like weâre tearing each other apart. Maybe this intensity isnât what I thought it was.â
He stepped closer, his voice filled with an earnest plea. âPlease, donât say that. We can work through this. I know Iâm not perfect, but we have something special. We just need to fight for it, not let it slip away because of a few mistakes.â
You shook your head, tears welling up. âItâs not just a few mistakes. Itâs the pattern, the way things keep repeating. I want to believe in us, but itâs getting harder every day. Weâre not just having moments of passion anymore; weâre living in a storm.â
Sukunaâs expression softened, and he pulled you into a tight embrace. âI donât want to be the storm in your life. I just want to be with you. Please, let me show you that we can be more than this.â
As his arms wrapped around you, the warmth of his body was a stark contrast to the cold reality of your situation. You said nothing as you leaned into the warmth of his body. The intensity of his words and the fire in his eyes were a powerful reminder of his hold on you. You forgave him that night once again, as you always did. And once again, you were trapped.
But beneath the surface of this passionate connection lay a darker undercurrent, one that grew stronger with time. Sukuna's emotional volatility was not just a fleeting characteristic; it was a core part of who he was. His moods shifted with little warning, swinging from intense affection to cold detachment. What seemed like an endearing quirk quickly revealed itself as a source of profound instability.
Sukuna's massive hand moved to your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands you had painstakingly did. You were ignoring him again after your recent fight. You just wanted peace of mind from him. And you knew that he hated being ignored. You know he hated being forgotten. You were the only person in his life that dealt with him, all his everything â and to not have you there shatters him. As much, you suppose, when he shatters you by loving you.
His other hand wrapped around your side, pulling you closer against him with a possessive strength. You felt the heat of his body pressing against yours, his touch both demanding and overwhelming. He leaned in, his breath hot against your neck as he started to kiss and nibble along your skin.
The kisses were intense, growing more fervent until he bit down, his teeth breaking through the delicate skin. A cry escaped your lips, a mix of pain and confusion. You could feel Sukuna speaking against your skin, his voice muffled and indistinct, but the words were lost in the haze of sensation and hurt.
The pressure of his hand on the back of your neck was unrelenting, anchoring you to him and heightening the intensity of the moment. It was only when his fingers pressed firmly against the nape of your neck that everything snapped into focus. The sharp reality of the situation cut through the fog, pulling you back to the present.
The biting pain, the tight grip, and the overwhelming closeness were all too much. You could see the raw, unfiltered emotion in his eyes, the storm of feelings that often clouded his judgment. In that moment, you were starkly aware of the power dynamics at play, the fine line between passion and control, and the deep-seated turmoil that defined your relationship.
The kiss, now a blend of pain and longing, was a stark reminder of the complexity of your loveâboth fierce and destructive. The intimacy of the touch, the raw intensity, and the sharp bite were all part of the same emotional spectrum, where passion and pain were often intertwined in ways that left you feeling vulnerable and conflicted.
You could feel your skin growing moist, a cold sweat breaking out across your entire body as you struggled to maintain your sanity against his relentless touch. Ryomen Sukuna had a way of overwhelming you, of winning you over even when you were trying to resist. His touch always managed to reach places you thought were well-guarded, stirring up sensations that you couldnât ignore. You could feel your body betraying you, slick pooling between your legs, a stark contrast to the turmoil inside your mind.
With a swift movement, Sukuna pinned you against the wall, his body pressing hard against yours. His kisses grew even more rough and demanding, each press of his lips a reminder of the intensity and chaos that defined your relationship. His hands roamed over your chest, fingers pinching and teasing, heightening the mix of pleasure and pain.
"Sukuna, slow down. It hurts." you cried out, your voice wavering as you tried to make yourself heard over the roar of conflicting emotions. The rawness in your voice was a plea for understanding, a desperate attempt to make him see the damage being done. "Sukuna, we... oh, we won't fix anything with this."
His grip faltered for a moment, but only just. He paused, his breath ragged and heavy against your skin, his eyes dark with a mixture of frustration and desire. There was a flicker of hesitation, a moment where he seemed to question the reality of the situation. But the tension in his body remained, the emotional storm far from over.
Your heart pounded as you struggled to maintain your composure, to hold onto a shred of clarity amidst the haze of his touch. The physical connection was undeniable, but it was the emotional wreckage that left you feeling most exposed. The passion that once felt exhilarating now seemed like a dangerous force that threatened to consume you both.
"Yes, we can." he murmurs, his voice a soft, dominant caress that contrasts sharply with the intensity of the moment. His lips press against your jaw with a sharp, possessive kiss, and you feel your head loll against his, unable to escape the overwhelming sensations.
His words are both a promise and a demand, a statement that attempts to bridge the gap between the pain and the passion youâre experiencing. "Because I love you. And you love me."
The declaration hangs heavily in the air, mingling with the heat of the moment. You mewl softly, a sound of both surrender and confusion. His touch and words are a potent mix, stirring emotions that youâve been trying to keep in check.Â
In your turmoil, you find yourself grappling with the truth of his words. The love you shared is undeniable, and itâs clear he still feels it deeply. Yet, the intensity of him and the roughness of his touch make it hard to reconcile with the pain and frustration that have become a part of your relationship.
"Even if you love meâŠ.." you manage to say, your voice trembling. "We canât fix everything like this. Weâre hurting each other, Sukuna.â
He doesnât pull away, his gaze fixed on yours with an intensity that makes it difficult to look away. The struggle between your emotions and his unyielding desire leaves you feeling torn, caught between the remnants of your past connection and the harsh reality of the present.
Sukunaâs grip remains firm, his dark red eyes not leaving yours. In this moment, the lines between love and pain blur â as it was with your relationship. The declaration of love feels both comforting and confounding, leaving you with the painful realization that while feelings might persist, the way youâre handling them is only adding to the emotional wreckage. You were in love with him as much as he was with you. But what was the point of this? Of this suffering?
But as he pleasured you, you never said anything. You just let him love you painfully, because thatâs all he knew. It was a raw, visceral form of connection, a way he expressed what he felt, even if it was damaging. It was all he could give, the only way he knew how to bridge the gap between you.
As you felt him inside of you, there was a deep, painful connection that mingled with the physical sensations. It was a painful reminder of the way your love had always beenâintense, consuming, and sometimes overwhelmingly conflicted. The pleasure was intertwined with the hurt, making it difficult to distinguish one from the other.Â
You accepted it, allowing the moment to unfold as it did. In your mind, you grappled with the reality of your situationârecognizing that this was how Sukuna knew to express his love, even if it was fraught with pain. And so, in the midst of the storm of sensations, you let yourself be caught up in the complexity of your emotions, trying to find a semblance of understanding amidst the chaos.
Arguments became frequent, fueled by misunderstandings and a growing sense of frustration. The intensity that once seemed thrilling now felt suffocating. Sukuna's need for control and dominance clashed with your desire for independence, creating a constant struggle for power. What was once exhilarating now felt like an endless cycle of conflict and resolution, each cycle leaving deeper emotional scars you didnât want.
The tension in the air was palpable. You were sitting on the edge of the bed, your hands clenched in frustration, while Sukuna stood across the room, his posture rigid with anger and jealousy. His eyes were fixed on you, his gaze fierce and unrelenting, the result of a recent encounter with one of your friends who had been a bit too touchy for his liking.
"Youâre always so quick to run off." Sukuna snapped, his voice sharp and laced with irritation. "Why canât you just stay and deal with things like an adult? Iâve seen the way you look at others. Do you think Iâm blind?"
You turned to face him, your heart pounding with a mix of anger and desperation. "Itâs not about anyone else. Itâs about us. Youâre always so controlling. You want to dictate every part of my life. I need space, Sukuna. I need to be able to breathe."
His eyes flared with frustration as he stepped closer, the intensity of his emotions almost tangible. "Space? Thatâs what you call it? I saw the way you were with him tonight. Itâs like youâre trying to push me away, like youâre looking for excuses to slip through my fingers."
You stood up, feeling the weight of his words pressing down on you. "Itâs not about looking for excuses. Iâm not trying to push you away. I just need to feel like I can make my own choices without feeling like Iâm under constant surveillance. This isnât about him. Itâs about the way youâre smothering me."
Sukunaâs frustration was evident in the way he paced the room, his fists clenched at his sides. "Smothering you? Iâm just trying to hold onto what we have. If youâd stop running and actually listen, maybe we could work things out. But every time I turn around, it feels like youâre slipping further away."
"Youâre not holding onto what we have, Sukuna." you said, your voice trembling. "Youâre suffocating me. Every time we have an argument, you try to control me even more. I need space to figure out what I want without feeling like Iâm being watched and judged every second."
Sukuna stopped pacing and looked at you with a mixture of anger and hurt. "I donât want to control you. I want to be with you, but it feels like youâre constantly pushing me away. I just donât know how to handle it when I see you getting close to others. It makes me feel like Iâm losing you."
The room fell silent, the air thick with unresolved emotions. You could see the pain in his eyes, the fear of losing you. But you also felt the deep, suffocating grip of his jealousy and control. The love that once felt exciting now seemed like a battleground, and the constant cycle of arguments and attempts at resolution were leaving both of you emotionally drained.
"I donât want us to keep going in circles like this, Sukuna." you said softly, your heart aching. "We need to find a way to be together without this constant struggle. Otherwise, weâre just going to keep hurting each other."
Sukunaâs gaze softened slightly, but the tension remained. "I donât know how to change things if you wonât let me in, you know that." he said, his voice a mix of vulnerability and frustration. "I just want us to be okay, but it feels like weâre constantly fighting against each other."
You took a deep breath, trying to remain calm despite the sting of his accusation. "That wasnât flirting. I was just being polite. And even if I was, what does it matter? You canât keep trying to control me like this. We canât keep doing this.â
He stepped closer, his anger palpable. "You think youâre so perfect, donât you? Always so independent, always so self-righteous. Iâm the one whoâs always fighting to keep us together. And this is how you repay me? By pushing me away and seeking attention from others?"
His words cut deep, each one a painful reminder of the control he exerted over your life. "This isnât about repaying you. Itâs about being true to myself. Iâm tired of feeling like I have to constantly prove my loyalty to you. Iâm not your possession."
Sukunaâs face contorted with frustration, and he slammed his fist against the wall. "You think this is easy for me? Watching you slip away while Iâm left here fighting to keep us from falling apart? Iâm trying to hold onto something real, and youâre pushing me away."
The hurt in his voice was undeniable, a mix of jealousy and desperation. But you could see the cracks in his control, the way his need for dominance had become a cage that both of you were trapped in.
"Iâm not trying to push you away." you said, your voice trembling. "Iâm trying to find a way to be myself without feeling like Iâm suffocating under your expectations. Weâre stuck in this cycle of fighting and making up, and itâs tearing us apart."
Sukunaâs expression softened for a moment, the anger giving way to a look of vulnerability. "I just donât want to lose you. I know Iâm not perfect, but I need you to understand how much you mean to me."
You sighed, feeling the weight of his words. "I know you care, but the way you show it is suffocating. We need to find a way to be together without this constant power struggle. Otherwise, weâre just going to keep hurting each other."
The room fell silent, the intensity of the argument leaving both of you exhausted. The love that once felt like a thrilling adventure now seemed like a battlefield, with each conflict leaving deeper scars. The vibrant energy that had once sparked between you was now overshadowed by an unrelenting cycle of discord and unresolved tension.
You wrapped your arms around your chest, as though trying to hug and comfort yourself amid the emotional wreckage. Your shoulders shook slightly with the effort to maintain composure, but even more tears were inevitable.
Sukunaâs posture was a reflection of his internal struggle, his anger giving way to a raw vulnerability. He took a hesitant step towards you, his voice trembling. âWhat do you want me to do?â he whispered, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. âWhat can I do, toâŠto make you stay?â
The softness in his voice, the genuine plea for understanding, struck a deep chord. You could see the pain and desperation etched into his features, the realization of how precariously close he was to losing you. Yet, amidst the raw emotion, you felt overwhelmed and trapped.
âI donât know,â you replied, your voice breaking as the tears began to fall freely. âIâm tired, Sukuna. Iâm tired⊠of loving you and losing you all at once.â
His shoulders sagged as he absorbed your words, the weight of your exhaustion evident in his expression. The tears that prickled at his eyes now spilled over, reflecting the depth of his own despair. His gaze fell to the floor, unable to meet yours, the crushing reality of your relationship settling heavily between you.
The room was filled with a profound silence, broken only by the soft sounds of your sobs and his choked breaths. The love you shared, which had once been a source of exhilaration and passion, now felt like a relentless cycle of joy and pain that neither of you could escape.
Sukunaâs voice was barely audible as he spoke again, his tone carrying a sense of helplessness. âI donât know how to fix this. I donât know how to make things right when everything feels so broken.â
You wiped at your tears, the exhaustion of the emotional turmoil leaving you feeling drained. âNeither do I.â you admitted softly. âI wish I had the answers. I wish I could find a way to make things work, but right now, it feels like weâre stuck in a never-ending loop of hurt and confusion.â
Sukunaâs silence was heavy with resignation, a poignant acknowledgment of the struggle that had become an inescapable part of your relationship. The love that had once been a source of strength and excitement now seemed overshadowed by a painful reality that neither of you knew how to navigate.
In that quiet moment, both of you were left grappling with the depth of your feelings, the complexity of your relationship, and the painful truth that sometimes love alone isnât enough to overcome the barriers that keep you apart.
Sukuna's tears continued to fall, and he moved closer, his steps hesitant but deliberate. He reached out tentatively, his fingers brushing against your arm in a gesture that was both gentle and desperate.
âI never meant to make things so difficult,â he said, his voice rough with emotion. âI thought... I thought if I held on tight, if I tried harder, we could work through it. But now, I see how much Iâve pushed you away.â
You looked at him, your own tears blurring your vision. The sight of him, vulnerable and torn, added to the weight of your own sorrow. You wanted to reach out, to offer comfort, but the chasm between you felt insurmountable.
âI know you were trying,â you said, your voice cracking. âBut the way you tried to control things... it pushed me away more than anything else. I felt like I was losing myself in trying to make things work.â
Sukunaâs hand tightened around your arm, his grip firm but not painful. âWhat do you need from me?â he asked, his voice desperate. âTell me what I can do to make things right, to fix this.â
You shook your head, struggling to find the words to express the depth of your exhaustion and the confusion that clouded your mind. âI donât know if thereâs anything that can fix this right now. I just feel... lost.â
His expression softened, the realization dawning that perhaps the damage was too great to repair immediately. âIâm sorry,â he said, his voice breaking. âIâm sorry for everything. I never wanted to hurt you. I just didnât know how to handle my own fears and insecurities.â
You nodded, the sadness overwhelming. âI know. And Iâm sorry too. Iâm sorry that we couldnât find a way to make this work without hurting each other so much.â
The silence between you was heavy, filled with the echoes of what had been and what might never be again. The love that had once felt so alive now seemed like a distant memory, overshadowed by the pain and the sense of inevitability.
Sukunaâs hand slowly fell away from your arm, and he took a step back, his shoulders slumped in defeat. âMaybe... maybe we both need some time apart to figure things out. To heal and find ourselves again.â
You looked at him, a mix of relief and sorrow washing over you. âMaybe youâre right. I need time to understand what I really want and to heal from all of this.â
Sukuna nodded, his face a mask of resignation and understanding. âI hope... I hope we can both find a way to be okay, even if it means being apart.â
With that, Sukuna turned and walked towards the door, each step heavy with the weight of what was ending. As he left, the silence of the room seemed to deepen. You sat down on the edge of the bed once more, your emotions a tangled mess of sadness and relief. The path ahead was uncertain, but in the quiet that followed, you felt more alone than ever before. But free. Freed from your own ruin.
âŹÎčââââââââââââââÎčâŹ
YOU COULDNâT DO IT ANYMORE IN THE END. In the end, you did break up with him. The cycle of arguments and reconciliation had become a never-ending loop, a house of cards that seemed destined to collapse no matter how carefully it was built. You loved him deeply, that was undeniable. But you also realized that rekindling the relationship would only lead to more pain, more hurt that neither of you could bear.
As you stood by the window, the first light of dawn was beginning to creep across the sky, painting the world in soft hues of pink and gold. The sight was starkly beautiful, a contrast to the turmoil that had been raging inside you. This was what life should be like, you think. You shouldnât settle for less. You shouldnât settle for hurt.
Outside, you could see himâstill there, lingering near your door, his figure slumped against the wall. He had a cigarette against the burrow of his lips, smoke filling his face. The remnants of a wild night clung to him; he was drunk and high, his posture wavering as he waited for you. The sight of him, lost and desperate, broke your heart in a way that felt both familiar and foreign.
You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of your decision settle heavily upon you. You knew that as much as you loved him, returning to him now would only mean opening the door to a love that had become toxic, a love that had already left you shattered too many times.
âI canât go through this again.â you whispered to yourself, your voice barely audible. The realization was painful, but clear. The cycle of breaking up and making up had drained you emotionally, leaving you with scars that were too deep to ignore. âNot again.â
As the sun continued to rise, its light growing stronger, you turned away from the window, feeling a sense of finality. The decision to end things was not made lightly, and the pain of walking away was immense. But you knew it was necessary for your own well-being, for the chance to heal and find a path forward that wasnât mired in the constant heartbreak that your relationship had become.
You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts as you reached for your phone. With a heavy heart, you composed a message, knowing it was the last thing you needed to say to him. Your fingers hovered over the screen, the weight of your decision pressing down on you as you typed:
"Sukuna, this is the last time Iâm reaching out. I can see you waiting outside, and I need you to understand that this is over. I love you, but weâve reached a point where continuing this relationship will only lead to more hurt. The cycle of breaking up and making up has left us both wounded, and I canât keep going through it. I need to move on and find healing for myself. Please respect my decision and let this be the end. I wish you well, but I canât be with you anymore. Goodbye."
You stared at the message for a moment, feeling a mix of sadness and relief. With a final press of the send button, you put your phone down and took a deep breath. It was done. The words were out there, and now it was time to let go and start the process of healing. You took a deep sigh and pursed your lips into a flat line.
As the first rays of sunlight began to illuminate the room, you felt a glimmer of hope amidst the sadness. The end of this chapter was painful, but it was also a step towards a future where you could rebuild, where you could heal. It was a chance to find peace and to rediscover yourself, away from the shadows of a love that had become more damaging than fulfilling.
With a final, lingering glance at the window, you steeled yourself for the difficult road ahead. The love you had for Ryomen Sukuna was real, but the decision to move forward was the right one. As the sun rose higher in the sky, you began to prepare for a new day, one that would be marked by both the pain of goodbye and the promise of new beginnings. You hope the best for him, as much as you hoped the best for you.Â
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen x y/n#jjk x y/n#ryomen sukuna#sukuna ryomen#sukuna#sukuna jjk#jjk sukuna#ryomen sukuna x you#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna ryomen x you#sukuna ryomen x reader#sukuna ryomen smut#ryoumen sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#sukuna x reader#sukuna x y/n#jjk sukuna x reader#jujutsu kaisen sukuna#ryoumen sukuna#ryomen sukuna smut#sukuna smut#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#kayu writes ! ! !
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I want to read a fic where Arthur discovers that Merlin is Emrys, but the conflicting feelings of affection for Merlin and hatred for magic cause him to misunderstand the nature of Emrys' existence.
His brain rationalises the situation in the only way it can, and comes to the understanding that Merlin and Emrys are two separate people living in the same body. That Emrys is living WITHIN Merlin without Merlin's knowledge.
Which, if that were true, would actually be a smart move on the sorcerer's part. Arthur would not, will not, and will NEVER execute Merlin. He's also around Arthur all day everyday, so that means he's close by to get whatever he wants or needs from the king. This only further convinces Arthur that he's correct.
He is not correct, of course. But since he's Arthur, he doesn't communicate what he has "learned" with Merlin. He doesn't want to tell his clearly unaware manservant that he's got an all powerful sorcerer buried in his brain. And he certainly doesn't want to tell anyone else out of fear it'll lead to Merlin's death. So he keeps it to himself, like an idiot, and operates every day under the assumption that Merlin is possessed by the most powerful sorcerer to ever live.
Meanwhile, Merlin is thriving. Sure it had been terrifying for Arthur to first learn about the prophecy via a loose lipped druid on the verge of death, and THEN witness Merlin using his magic in order for the thing that killed the druid to not also kill Arthur, but the reveal had gone over shockingly well all things considered.
He did get a whole week of complete silence from Arthur, followed by a few more days of being stared at in a thoroughly unsettling manner, but after that everything went back to normal. Better than normal, in fact!
It was clear that Arthur was incredibly uncomfortable with his magic, which was understandable. Arthur may be a good man, but his quality of character didn't magically erase the prejudices and experiences that had been hammered into his head over and over since he was a child. The way he seemed to be coping with it was by pretending that nothing had happened at all, which was just fine as far as Merlin was concerned.
Gaius disagreed. But what did Gaius know? Healthy communication? Don't need it.
Merlin didn't use his magic around Arthur on the day to day, even though he could be sure he wouldn't get executed for it anymore. He didn't want to make Arthur uncomfortable, so he went along with the unspoken plan of pretending that nothing had happened. Resuming the exact same routines and behaviours that he'd been doing for years now. Gradually, Arthur relaxed. Well, as much as Arthur Pendragon can relax. And life resumed as normal.
Except for one little detail.
Sometimes, Arthur would call him Emrys. Not all the time, and certainly not when people were around to hear or see. But sometimes.
When he needed help. When he needed magical help.
An enchantment on a courtier, an artifact found buried under a house, a monster wreaking havoc on a town, or a hoard of bandits descending upon the two of them in the woods. A tome, a necklace, a potion, a poison, a cure.
If Arthur called him Merlin, he wanted his manservant. If Arthur called him Emrys, he wanted his sorcerer. It was a neat little system, Merlin thought. A sort of code, just for the two of them.
Of course, this equilibrium can only exist for so long before something slips and shit gets messy. But that's all part of the fun!
#bbc merlin#merlin bbc#merlin emrys#merlin#arthur pendragon#fan fiction#fanfiction#fic ideas#fic inspiration#fanfiction prompts#merthur#merlin x arthur#potentially
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Impression
Steve Harrington x fem!reader
Part two to Chemistry, but you don't technically have to read it to follow along :)
CW: Pseudocest/stepcest, unprotected sex, slight degradation, mentions of sex pollen
Steve deals with the aftermath of what he did, as well as realizes that he can't just let you go.
He was pacing.
Back and forth in front of his bed, his steps messy and rough as he tried to erase the previous night from his mind. It had nothing to do with the monsters or the beat down that he had faced, no, nothing like that.
It had everything to do with you. What he had done was wrong, sinister even. He didn't know why he had done it, only that he was sure that he would die if he hadn't touched you. He had never wanted someone so badly before. Not even Nancy.
And you were worse than any drug he had ever encountered. So needy and willingly underneath him, just as desperate and lustful. It was hard to feel like it was wrong in the moment, not when it felt so right.
But now he was left with a sickening feeling in his gut, his guilt eating away at him. He didn't even like you, he shouldn't really care. But it bothered him for some reason, but maybe it was because he hadn't really felt like he had been in control. Like part of his body had been acting without his consent, but then sometimes it didn't feel like that either.
His dad was going to kill him if he found out.
"It can't happen again." He told you the next morning, after he had forced himself away from you that night and scrubbed himself down in the shower until his skin was raw.
He didn't really like to look at you, not because you were ugly or unattractive. But because he was constantly reminded of what he couldn't have. He thought every piece of you was stunning, beautiful. And sometimes it was easier to push you away than to try and pretend to be nice.
"What?" You grumbled, still looking like you were half asleep as you held a glass of juice in between your hands. He huffed, shaking his head in disbelief.
"You know what." He responded as he waited for you to say something, to bring up what happened last night or to worry about the marks on his face. For a moment he couldn't decide what he would rather have you do.
But you were silent as you downed the rest of your juice, liquid falling from the corner of your lips before you wiped it away. You sighed as you set it down, not looking at all bothered. Or at least wearing a convincing mask.
"I have no idea what you're talking about." You replied as you shrugged your shoulders, eyebrows furrowing together as you walked away from him. He froze for a moment, briefly feeling lost. Leaving him with just enough time to wonder if he had imagined part of this.
No, it had been real. He was sure of it. He didn't want you to blab about it, but he wasn't sure he was happy with you ignoring it completely either. He wasn't sure what he wanted.
But you continued on like that, acting like nothing had happened. And it infuriated him. You had always been a brat, but you were even worse now. And he was determined to get to the bottom of it.
It was wrong. Really wrong. He kept trying to remind himself that, but he had a hard time believing it. Not when his eyes searched for you, when his fingertips burned to feel your skin against his again. He could feel the desperation leaking from him, needy to feel you again.
So he'd try again.
"What are you playing at?" He asked as he forced himself into your room the next night, shuttingt he door swiftly behind him. You looked up, eyebrows raised for a moment before you turned away again.
"I don't know what you're talking about." You repeated dryly, legs crossed as you placed your bookmark neatly between the pages you were on. He breathed in deeply, trying to do his best to keep from staring at your exposed skin.
"Why won't you talk about what happened?" He muttered at last, feeling more desperate than anything else. He had a sudden urge to fall to his knees, to feel your fingers tangled within his hair as he did whatever you wanted.
"Do you want me to?" You questioned as you tilted your head, eyes looking right through him. He shifted from foot to foot, trying to figure out the answer to your question. The truth was that he didn't know. He had no idea at all.
He huffed as he slowly sat down on your floorboards, wishing there was a way to explain what had happened. Or maybe he was wanting to apologize. He wasn't sure. All of it had happened so fast.
"What are you thinking about?" You questioned as you crept closer to him, making his pulse raise against the side of his neck. You were in an oversized shirt, one that just barely covered you. He had a hard time looking away.
"I feel like I'm crazy," he replied, skin burning as you slowly crawled over to him. This didn't feel like before. It was different, but nice. Real, "do you feel that way?" he asked, eyes lingering against your bare thighs.
"No," you said at last, tilting your head as you straddled him fully. He bit back a groan, trying not to buck his hips up against your warm flesh, "you made me feel alive." You added softly, making him feel like he might melt into the floorboards.
You slowly rocked your hips across him, leaving him gripping the floor for support. He felt greedily, desperaetly needing to touch you as he reached down to open the buttons to his jeans. Then his zipper.
He stared at the way you slowly sat up, how you delicately let your panites down down the length of your legs. He watched in fascination, sure that he had never felt this way before. He reached forward, pressing a few kisses against your knee before you settled over him again.
"Are you going to be nice to me, Stevie?" You asked as you fluttered your eyelashes at him, your fingers brushing across his hardened dick. He whined at the feeling, grinding his hips up into until you pushed him back down. You shook your head, giving him a warning.
"Mhm." He hummed in agreement, eyelids feeling heavy as he hungrily watched your movements. He felt greedy suddenly, desperately needing to feel you.
"You're going to be a good boy?" You cooed as you tilted your head, a small smirk pulling on your lips. He felt faint at the feeling of your palm pressing down rougher against his bulge, his dick aching from the feeling. It was more intense than the other night. Real.
"I promise," he whined as he wiggled underneath you, lips still covered with your slick, "please." He pleaded as he pulled himself onto his elbows, watching the slow way that you tugged his briefs down his hairy thighs.
He sighed in relief at the feeling of his cock popping free, bouncing against his skin as a gleeful giggle left your lips. His pulse raced against the crook of his neck, his mind spinning as he drifted his eyes back towards you.
Your fingers wrapped around his thick girth delicately, your teeth shining brightly from the wide smile you sent him as he crooned in response. He was pulsing against your touch, cock throbbing as you gave him a little squeeze.
"I'll take care of you," you promised as you drifted your free hand across his slender torso, eyes slowly dancing across each mole that decorated his skin. He was covered in the little marks, and sometimes found himself hating them. But not right now, not with the way you were looking at him, "just relax."
He did as you demanded, his fingertips relaxing against your hips as you slowly lifted yourself up over him. His cock ached against his skin as the feeling of you hovering over him spread warmth through his body.
The feeling of his tip against your slick walls made his head spin, his heart hammering roughly inside his chest as he watched the way his cock slid inside of your soaked cunt. Your moans were whiny and rough, making his ears sing from the heavenly sound.
"You're such a slut for your little sister," you coeed as you stalled your movements for a second, adjusting to the feeling of his dick pulsing inside of you, "but you like that, don't you?" You teased, making him quickly nod his head in agreement. He'd do whatever you said, whatever you asked.
A low whimper left his lips as you fully lowered yourself along the curve of his cock, your eyes fluttering shut as he resisted the urge to fuck up into your smooth cunt. His fingers twitched against your flesh, trying to keep himself patient so he could savor the feeling of your pussy wrapped around his thick girth.
"God," he whined as he clawed at your hips, lungs stalling from the rough breaths he was taking, "you feel so good around me, honey." He complimented, mind feeling hazy as you slowly began to rock your hips up and down the length of his cock.
Pleasure raced up his spine, the muscles in his stomach twisting in pleasure as he savored the feeling of your walls clamping around his cock. The feeling of your slick coating his skin left him gasping, his lungs swelling in awe each time your cunt squelched around him.
"Fuck," you breathed out, eyebrows furrowing together as pleasure spread across your features. You whined, a heavenly sound that filled his ears as he buried his fingertips into your flesh again. He groaned as he began to thrust upwards, his balls hitting against your skin, "right there, Stevie. Feels incredible."
He sighed in bliss, staring at the way your cunt stretched around him as you continued to drag yourself along the curve of his cock. He reached down to play with your clit, making you squirm atop of him as he savored the image of your pussy stuffed full of his cock. Something inside of him snapped, like you were made to be wrapped around him.
Your hands were warm against his skin, pressing into him as loud moans began to fall from your tongue. The sounds made his toes curl, bliss spreading deep inside of him. He didn't want you to ever stop. No, he wanted to feel himself buried inside of you for a very long time.
"Jesus," he groaned as he began to thrust up into you deeply, his cock brushing against the deepest parts of you as your nails began to dig into his shirt. Your thighs squeezed around his body, tugging him closer, "feels good. feels so good, honey. Fuck, fuck." The words rolled off of his tongue easily as a blush crept onto his skin, hot and sticky from the sweat that had formed against the base of his neck.
It was hard to think, hard to feel anything but the intense pleasure with the way you turned your gaze down towards him. He was sure that he had never seen someone so beautiful before, so stunning as the pleasure etched deeply across your features.
It was hard to feel shame when everything felt this good, but even now, he hated how desperately he wanted to kiss you. How badly he wanted to drift his hands across your curves and feel your warm skin against his own. He thought of how badly he wanted to explore every inch of you, to drag his lips across your skin and to never forget the sweet sounds that fell from your lips.
"Oh God," he whined wantonly as he began to drag his hips up roughly into your soaked cunt, the sound of your bodies meeting bouncing off of the walls, "M'sorry, fuck, fuck!" He cursed as he pressed himself up against you, balls slick against your skin as his cock pulsed against your walls.
A loud moan left his lips as he came deep inside of you, his cum painting your walls white. He moved his hand down between your legs, roughly rubbing at your swollen clit as your body twitched in pleasure.
"Oh God, Steve!" He sat up further, mind foggy in awe at the way your cunt clamped down tightly around his cock. He breathed in deeply, listening to the way you moaned and crooned as you came around his cock. You rocked down against him slowly, licking your bottom lip.
He couldn't hear anything but your moans, his heart hammering roughly inside his chest as he continued to press down against your sensitive bud. He couldn't feel anything but you, his pleasure pulsing deep inside his veins as he stared up at you in disbelief. In awe.
You looked down at him, features twisted into a mixture of satisfaction and smugness. He couldn't care though, not one bit as you traced your fingers across your chest softly.
"What's wrong, Stevie?" you giggled as you pressed down along his hips, eyes twinkling in mischief, "cat got your tongue?" He exhaled roughly as he nodded numbly, feel his cock twitching inside of you once again.
Yeah, you could say that.
#Steve Harrington#Steve Harrington x reader#Steve Harrington x fem!reader#Steve Harrington x female!reader#Steve Harrington x female reader#Steve Harrington x fem reader#Steve Harrington x reader smut#Steve Harrington x female!reader smut#Steve Harrington smut#Stepcest#tw pseudocest#tw stepcest#pseudocest#Steve Harrington fic#Steve Harrington fanfic#Steve harrington fanfiction#Steve Harrington imagine
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forever young, i want to be forever young.
he swore that he would never allow you to pass him in terms of brute strength, swore that youâd never be on the same levels as him and izuku.
but you knew you could change his mind the same way izuku did, you knew that if you trained hard enough, katsukiâs mind would erase the image of you as a little girl, the image of you that always needed his protection and his security.
when you grew up, you drifted apart due to the fact that youâd choose izuku every time due to the fact that you felt bad for the green haired boy, the fact that nobody wanted to be his friend while katsuki had so many accomplices.
he begun to treat you the same way as izuku, except the only thing different about your treatment was that he never stopped, not even when you both attended ua highschool. heâd continously call you weak, would always say how you were too far behind. how youâd only ever become a sidekick at best.
of course now his mind was changed as he watched you navigate the terrain of coffin in the sky, he also found out that you created the basic terrain and mountains inside so that youâd successfully be able to manuever against shigaraki.
his mind was changed as the rain poured down, your hair wet and sticking to your skin, the same skin that begun to glisten with beads of sweat mixed with the water falling down onto you.
of course, he couldnât do much from where he was tossed away on the ground, his body aching in pain as you turned your head down to see your friend, in pain and near the edge of unconsciousness.
âyou idiot.â he murmured out, nearly incoherent as best jeanist turned to where bakugou was looking, seeing you getting moved around as if you were a ragdoll, you couldnât even comprehend what had happened. it was all so fast.
you looked down at where you felt shigaraki holding you, only to see his arm had gone through your torso, bakugou watching with tears in his eyes that heâd pretend were just raindrops that fell on him.
and when you were tossed aside on top of him, the boy coughing up blood as your bodies connected, you had a smile on your face.
âiâm satisfied. thank you katsuki, for everything.â
your voice was meek and small as he moved his head up slightly to see your eyes slowly shut.
#mha#myheroacademia#boku no hero academia#my hero academia#bnha#bnha bakugou#mha bakugou#bakugou katsuki#bakugou x reader#bnha bakugo katsuki#mha bakugo katsuki#bakugo angst
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Asaba Harumasa Character Psychology, Headcanons and Kinks

They got me lads. I am now playing Zenless so I lied, you will be getting more of my zzz content (including a part 2 for lighterâs stuff) Harumasa is my man (lighter is my friends) but when I tell you this man has me in CHOKEHOLD, I'm not exaggerating. Also bunni-v1 writes great Harumasa fics if you need more content.
Also: Spoilers obviouslyÂ
Edit: I forgot to add the playlist i made so here you go
Harumasa Playlist
And I will be headcanoning that the cure his master gave him (in his mission) prolonged his life because I don't feel like crying while writing headcanons for the other alternatives. His issues with his chronic illness will not be erased (as an endo chronically ill girlie myself) but we are aiming for the good end here. also this does feature a little Lighter (go read his for context if it is confusing)
General Headcanons
Harumasa is not the type to sit on the sidelines and pineâhe takes action. Unlike Lighter, who behind the bravado is riddled with self-doubt and would likely self-sabotage out of fear of not being good enough, or being stuck in his own head, Harumasa knows what he wants and makes sure he gets it. He doesnât have the luxury of fucking around. While his pursuit of his desired partner would be relentless, it would still be charming enough to not come off as desperate or creepy.
Whereas Lighter might see someone flirting with the object of his affection in its early stages and back off, (very Wyll in BG3 at the party coded) thinking heâs too much, too messy, and that they would be better off with someone less damaged, Harumasa is not that type of guy. If he sees something (or someone) he wants, he will make it happen. He fears rejection, but not enough to stop him from chasing what he wants.
Heâs cunning but playfulâhis approach is not overtly aggressive, but he manipulates situations to make himself the best option without it seeming deliberate. Harumasa would definitely âaccidentallyâ ruin his competitorâs moment by interrupting a heartfelt conversation theyâre having with his desired partner.
"Oh wow, sorry for barging inâdidnât realize you were getting confessed to. Wait, never mind, I totally did. Don't mind me, though."
Harumasa grins and plops down next to them, pretending itâs a joke, when he knows damn well what was happening.
Unlike an outright toxic or possessive character, Harumasa wouldnât openly block other suitorsâhe undermines them in ways that seem coincidental. He would love to âaccidentallyâ give bad advice to someone else whoâs interested in his desired partner.
"Oh, they love really dramatic gestures! Go for something big and public. You should invite them out to that five-star restaurant and serenade them on the stage! Yeah, they have a stageâlet me send you the reviews."
(Knowing full well that his wanted partner would be mortified and reject the person immediately.) He would also find any reason to insert himself into situations where his partner and another suitor might get too close.
"Oh wow, you two were gonna get coffee? CrazyâI was just heading that way. Letâs all go together, I need it after working so much overtime!"
Harumasa plays dirty, but subtly. He wonât start a fight with another suitor or his preferred partnerâheâll just make the other guy seem worse by comparison. If another suitor brings a gift? Harumasa one-ups it instantly.
Other suitor: "I got you flowers."
Harumasa: "Cute. I got them a custom-made choker that matches my own. No big deal."
He leans over, fingers tracing their collar, brushing the hair away, enough to be charged but not enough to warrant a callout.
"Looks good on them, doesnât it?" (very regina george of him, getting the other suitor to agree)
If another suitor says something awkward or embarrassing, Harumasa makes sure his partner notices.
"Did he really just say that? Oh, babe, I think you broke him. Maybe you should go easy on him."
If he and his partner had a fight, the resentment we see in his interactions with Lighter or Seth would rear its ugly head. Harumasa wouldnât argue when his partner says they need space after a fight, but that night, he makes a quiet note of every interaction theyâve had that week. Were they laughing less? Kissing him shorter? Did they forget to say âI love youâ first this time? Itâs stupid, he knows. But if he doesnât count, he wonât be able to tell when itâs really over.
He tends to catastrophize small fights and might overcompensate when he feels distance creeping in. If he senses his partner pulling away, he floods them with affection, gifts, and attentionâbut also gets quietly resentful because deep down, he fears heâll never be enough to make them stay. Nothing communication couldn't solve between him and his partner, but his partner would probably have to make the first move to reassure him. Otherwise, his attempts will be thinly veiled worries disguised as jokes.
Sexual and Romantic Headcanons
Sexting - Sex Tapes, Nudes, and Unsolicited Pictures
Harumasa is a known photographer and a good one at that. He knows all the tricks of good composition, lighting, and angles. Not only would this man hound his partner for nudesâboth video and picture (though if his partner was uncomfortable, he would drop it)â the things he would send would be filthy.
His partner could be at work, and Harumasa would send a text:
"I have something to show you, baby."
Followed immediately by the most out-of-pocket shower pic known to man. He also sends videos of himself finishing, moaning, and masturbating to the pictures his partner sent him. His partner has to be careful anytime they receive a message from him. Silent mode is a must. He would send the foulest, most down bad texts to his partner, so they would need a good poker face in public.
He would also send nude requests in the middle of meetings. If his partner doesn't answer back quickly enough, he spams them with memes. Eventually, he calls, and when his partner picks up, he just acts nonchalant but keeps them on the phone for an hour talking shit.
Additionally, amateur porn and couples' videos would be something heâs enthusiastic about trying. Nothing too crazy or uncomfortable (although if his partner is adventurous, he would be thrilled), but he would love a personal library of videos of them together. Harumasa likes to say they keep him from feeling lonely when heâs away, whether on a mission or just at work.
Breeding KinkÂ
Sub categories: Overminding, Pseudo Mommy Kink
This man hates condoms. Harumasa hates the feeling of latex, partly because it reminds him of his time in hospitals. The smell and sensation bring him back to the long, painful periods spent in captivity. He also despises any sort of barrier between him and his partner.
Under normal circumstances, he's already like a velcro dog, attached at the hip with separation anxiety, but during sex? He doesnât want anything coming between them. That means lights on, or daytime sex where he can see everything.
A subconscious part of him loves the idea of getting his partner pregnant, whether thatâs possible or not. Remember how he made little Bangboos of each Section 6 member? Yeah. Part of him wants something that permanently ties him and his partner together.
A child is a forever bond, one that canât be undone. Before receiving the cure that prolonged his life, Harumasa had already been obsessed with preserving moments. Now, the idea of a legacy through his partnerâsomeone who will exist beyond him and prove that he loved themâis something he fixates on, even if he wonât admit it.
"Just let me come inside. I'll get you Plan B after, promise."
(His partner has to remind him, otherwise he will absolutely forget.)
If they did get pregnant? He wouldnât be mad. In fact, he would probably commission a custom Bangboo of him and his partner as a âpractice babyâ to test the waters and see how they react.
I also think in terms of a pseudo mommy kink, he would enjoy being overminded, or overmothered. I don't necessarily think he would call his partner mommy but I think his need for nurturing would come out in certain ways such as nagging for attention when they are busy, loving his partner's chest or wanting to suck on their nipples.
Domination PlayÂ
Sub categories: Femdom and Overstimulation
Half-truths, control, and vulnerability are big themes in Harumasaâs character. Being sick for most of his life, heâs used to feeling weak, being used, or being treated like a fragile object. Sex is one of the only places where he gets to reclaim control, but itâs also where he gets to be completely vulnerable.
For him, overstimulation isnât just about pleasure, itâs about being pushed past his limits and about feeling alive. But itâs a delicate balance; while he craves intensity, he also hates feeling physically weak. In his professional life, he would rather lean into his genius slacker persona than admit his actual limitations. Thereâs a fine line between pleasure and frustration for him.
For example: his partner keeps pushing him, overstimulating him, until he physically canât move anymore. He hates it and loves it at the same timeâhis body isnât used to exhaustion feeling good.
â⊠Youâre making me weak. Donât stop.â
Heâs clinging to them, shaking, but refuses to be the one to tap out.
Harumasaâs abandonment issues are so prevalent that they could fill an entire book. He was a child discarded by his parents because of his ether sickness, and his picture book episode makes it clearâhe believes that if anyone saw the full mess of who he is, they would run.
A partner with dominance or possessive aspects would actually relax him rather than intimidate him. Heâs already possessive himself, but if his partner doesnât reciprocate that energy, he can feel unbalanced and even ashamed of how much he needs them. Harumasa has cared deeply for people in the past, only to realize that they didnât love him as much as he did them. Now, as an adult, he wants a partner who is upfront and a little obsessed with him too.
He thrives on a type of possessiveness that toes the lineânoticeable in public but not over-the-top PDA. Itâs not that he doesnât want his partner all over him; he just doesnât want to draw undue attention and be bothered while heâs with them.
Public possessiveness he loves: Sitting in his lap? Yes. A hand on the back of his neck? Even better. Leaning in to kiss him in front of people? Be careful he might make it an uncomfortably long kiss for the public. I feel like if his partner gave the impression that they were embarrassed by him, especially in public, it would be an ugly dealbreaker. He wants to be wanted.
Going back to the intersection of domination, overstimulation, and his need for consuming careâhe doesnât just like to be dominated. He likes being taken care of in a way that doesnât make him feel small.
For example: his partner pins him down, taking control, and for a moment, his brain flashes back to the times he was trapped in hospital beds, unable to move. His breath catches. His partner noticesâpauses and reassures him. And just like that, the panic shifts into trust.
He doesnât want to feel used or like a tool, like how people have viewed him in the past. And even worseâhe doesnât want to feel like a problem to be discarded.
Harumasa needs to sleep in the same bed as his partner. He has nightmares from his time in the lab, and sleeping next to his partner helps keep the bad nights away. Once he gets used to their presence, he cannot go back to sleeping alone. If they ever suggest separate sleeping arrangements, he hates it.
When heâs on missions, he barely gets any sleep until he gets back.
He would also love it if his partner forced him to take his meds. Heâs taking them religiously but he might pretend heâs not just to see them worry and nag him. Heâd grumble about it, but secretly, he loves the attention.
For example: his partner constantly reminds him to do things he already knows he should be doingâcall the doctor, get some rest, eat the food they cooked, take his meds.
"They taste so bitter and gross, though," he mutters, swallowing the pill. He worries it will change the taste of his saliva, make it sharp and unpleasant, and maybe his partner wonât want to kiss him as much.
But he always gets a kiss after taking his medication.
Later that night, he holds their hand in bed and rubs slow circles over their palm, a silent thank-you.
When he feels like heâs close to losing something, he holds onto it even harder. If he senses his partner is upset with him, he feels the distance ten times more intensely than whatâs actually happening in reality. His instinct isnât to talkâitâs to pull them closer, physically.
People often see dominance as something aggressive or forceful, but real dominance is a service roleâit requires carrying the needs of both partners. Thatâs what attracts Harumasa to a dominant partner, I think. He has carried his own needs alone for too long without any real support.
Aesthetic Domination (Luxury as Control, Beauty as a Tool)
Subcategories: Dressing You, Restriction Through Elegance, Ritual in Presentation
For Harumasa, control isnât always about action, sometimes, itâs about aesthetics. Itâs about curation. Itâs about how you match him.
Power doesnât have to be loud. It can be subtle, whispered through carefully chosen details. Unlike Lighter, who is a little more straightforward with an established relationship, with commands and agreements, Harumasa treads between lines. He tells half-truths, like how he âpretendedâ to be sick to slack off when, in reality, he really was sick. He moves in ways that make things seem effortless when theyâre actually highly deliberate.
Everything is curated. Clothing. Jewelry. Scent.
He would love coordinating outfits. Heâs the type of man who picks out a set of jewelry that matches his partnerâs eyes. He buys them his favorite lingerie setânot for him, but because theyâll look stunning in it.
And scent?
 If his partner doesnât have a signature scent, heâs helping them find one. And if they do, heâll wear traces of it himself. He wants his presence on them at all times. Unlike how Lighter uses his partnerâs scent to ground himself, Harumasa uses it as a form of possession. Harumasa would also throw out any perfume that was a gift from anyone else, even if he has to go out and buy you a similar one.
Example:
Harumasa lays out an outfit, every detail carefully chosen so they match. He enjoys knowing heâs connected to how the world perceives his partner today.
"Wear this," Harumasa says, fastening the last button, styling their hair. Maybe they are going out to collect an award. "Think of me on stage, yeah?."
Later, theyâre out, and someone compliments their bracelet.
Before his partner even has the chance to respond, Harumasa is already there.
Arm slung over their shoulder, wearing the smuggest shit-eating grin possible.
"Yeah, I got them that. Itâs a matching set, see?" He lifts his left wrist, showing off his own.
Jangling it in their face.
Itâs a not-so-subtle "Theyâre taken" move.
Harumasa is very petty like that.
Love Languages â Gift Giving (Both Receiving and Giving), Quality Time
Harumasa never had stability growing up. He treasures material things because they last.
His love language is "I saw this and thought of you. "or âI made this for youâ.
Harumasa casually drops expensive gifts on the table without making a big deal out of it. If his partner gives him something, he wears it constantlyâeven if it doesnât match his usual style. Heâs willing to try new things for his partner. But more than expensive gifts, Harumasa loves gifts that take time and effort. He would love to make something homemade or receive it.
For example: If his partner started packing him lunch for work, he would keep the little notes they left himâfilled with their handwriting and tiny Bangboo doodles. Eventually, he would begin collecting them, turning them into a scrapbook. It's a reminder that someone loves him enough to fill a book full of post-it notes.
He would also love making picture albums of the two of themâsimilar to the ones moms make for their kids, but instead, itâs filled with snapshots of their relationship. This is completely my own headcanon, but I also believe Harumasa would write his partner love poemsâso many that they could eventually be compiled into a book.
And when he dies (late in life, for my own sanity), I like to think his partner and Section 6 would help get his picture books and, eventually, his poetry published after his partner passes as well.
Messy Sex and Communal Intimacy â An Extension of His Need for Care, Communal Sharing
Messy sex, to me, just makes sense for Harumasa. Sweat, Spit-slicked kisses, the bed sheets being ruined ect. He loves when things drip onto his partnerâs skin, when things get wet and slippery and overwhelming. He loves grabbing his partner by the jaw, pulling them into the mess, sucking their tongue into his mouth. He doesnât just want to fuckâhe wants to drown in them.
Also this man doesn't care about period sex or whether or not his partner has shaved. It gives the energy of-
âI used to eat lollipops off the hospital carpet, lie down alreadyâ (11)
I debated on putting a spit kink in this section, because I have read so many good fanfictions that tease that, so if you decide that makes sense, I will never argue with you.
Harumasa wouldnât care either way if his partner were a stay-at-home or career-focused typeâboth have their perks. However, I do think a boss bitch partner would do something for him. Not only would it allow him to take time off to recuperate when needed, but he would love the feeling of being minded. On the flip side, if his partner stayed home, he would adore coming home to a cooked meal and a sense of familyâsomething heâs never had and something that would sooth his fear of being left behind again.
For example: After a rough day, Harumasa pulls his partner onto his lap, burying his face in their neck.
"Stay like this." His voice isnât teasing or light for onceâitâs low, almost desperate. If his partner tries to move, even slightly, his grip tightens.
"Please, I said stay." His tone is firmâbut thereâs a crack in it. Like if they leave, even for a second, they might not come back. His partner cups his jaw, pressing a slow, grounding kiss to his lips.
"Iâm not going anywhere."
Harumasa exhales. But only just.
There is also no "mine" or "yours" in the household. His partnerâs clothes? His. His clothes? Theirs. His partner would walk into the kitchen to find Harumasa wearing their hoodieâwhich does not fit him at all.
Harumasa calls it the communal hoodie.
Auralism â Attraction to the Sound of a Voice, Attraction to Sounds or Audio
Harumasa is LOUD. Heâs a whiner, a moaner, a whimperer. He and his partner would have to soundproof their apartment because one time, he was so loud the neighbors complained.
He craves a space where he can be completely himself. Sex is one of those few spaces. If he has to perform or censor himself, then he doesnât want to do it at all. Likewise, he wouldnât like it if his partner held back their moans or soundsâheâs the type of man who needs to hear them to get off. If itâs too quiet, he gets frustrated.
"Why so quiet? I want to hear everything."
He loves not necessarily just dirty talk but pure reactions. He thrives on noiseâbreathy gasps, high moans, even shaky, incoherent sentences drive him crazy. A well-placed word or a high-pitched moan from his partner could shock him in a good way and have him finishing earlier than intended. His mind would just blue screen. 404 error. Not found.
Heâs also the type to enjoy Skype sleep calls or call his partner while away on a mission just to listen to their voice while falling asleep. When his partner finally drifts off, he stays on the line, enjoying the sound of their breathingâat least until his phone battery dies.
Given his fear of being alone, he would find immense comfort in hearing his partnerâs voice, even when theyâre not around. He would record their voiceâwhether itâs a casual conversation or something more intimateâjust so he can play it back when heâs alone.
When heâs on a mission, he can only fall asleep listening to them hum or talk on the phone.
"I want you to record a message for me. Just say anything. I donât care whatâit just has to be your voice."
Harumasa would also have a playlist for everything.A playlist for his partner. A playlist for sex. A playlist for when heâs missing them.
If his partner sends him a song that reminds them of him? He plays it on repeat.
Cockwarming â A Subtle Possessiveness, a Need for Closeness
Listen, if this man could live in his partnerâs skin, he would. He whines and pouts about wanting closeness, whether itâs bothering them while they cook, playing with their hair, or just resting against them. It allows him to feel completely connected to his partner without the pressure of performance.
A lot of peopleâespecially menâmisunderstand the need for intimacy with the urge for sex. Itâs common to confuse the two. This is why so many men, for example, sleep around but never feel satisfiedâbecause the need they wish to sate is emotional and intellectual, not just a physical cog to be greased (9,10).
This aspect of connection for Harumasa sates both a sexual urge, a need for intimacy, and soothes his fear of isolation while maintaining his subtle possession of his partner.
Harumasa, sleepy, half-mumbling, "Just⊠stay like this a little longer."
Will not move unless physically removed. He would spend hours like thatâreading, sleeping, just existing while still connected.
Chronically ill people tend to struggle with temperature regulation, fatigue, and sensory overstimulation. Cockwarming allows Harumasa to use his partner as a source of warmth, comfort, and grounding. His body is often cold, weak, or achingâbeing wrapped up in heat and softness could help with muscle relaxation ect.
He struggles with sleeping alone and sleeps better when he knows his partner is physically connected to him. He has nightmares from his time in the labs, and if he wakes up in a panic, cockwarming becomes an immediate grounding tool.
Risky Sex â Spontaneous Sex, Teasing Dynamics
Why does Harumasa like risky sex? Itâs not just the thrill of it.
Itâs because it makes things feel urgentâlike he has to have his partner now, or heâll lose them. Sometimes, itâs not even a conscious realization; itâs just that heâs feeling things he doesnât want to feel, and his partner is the only thing that can make him feel safe again.
He loves the kind of sex where youâre both at a work dinner, and his hand brushes against your leg under the table. He enjoys watching you flush and squirm at small touches, playing it off like nothing. It keeps happening until you excuse yourself to the bathroom to cool off, only to find heâs followed you when no one was watching, locking the door behind him before fucking you up against the creaking stall door.
Heâs a fan of these types of quickiesânot just for the thrill, but because they release tension and reaffirm that you want him always. That you wonât leave him.
If someone almost walks in on you both, his first instinct isnât to stopâitâs to cover your mouth, press his lips into your skin to muffle his own moans, hold you deeper against the wall, and keep going.
He whispers against your skin:
 "Shhh⊠You donât wanna get caught, do you?"
The real truth? He doesnât actually want to get caught. But he wants that moment of dangerâthe moment where nothing else matters except the two of you.
If his partner initiates something like this? He loses it.
Roleplay â Both Sexual and Non-Sexual
Harumasa would love to pretend silly things with his partner.
He would be the type to drag you to IKEA just to have a fake fight in the showroom kitchens. He would pick out furniture and household things like youâre married alreadyâeven if youâre not.
He would upgrade his flight tickets to first class, just to walk up to the flight attendant and say, "Can my wife/husband come with me?"
He also lies to every restaurant you visit, telling them itâs your birthday so you can get free cakeâeven if itâs nowhere near your actual birthday. Then he makes sure to take embarrassing pictures of you blowing out candles at every single restaurant you go to.
If you hate having "Happy Birthday" sung to you in public? Too bad. Itâs for a good cause. Free cake.
Harumasa also romanticizes scenarios between the two of you. He holds onto small moments and becomes deeply invested in them.
If you ever jokingly pretend to be married in a conversation? Harumasa casually starts using the pet name you made up, like itâs real. If his partner tells him a story about how they first met and their perspective? He wants to hear it again.
One evening, sprawled across the couch, head resting in his partnerâs lap, he suddenly asks:
"Tell me how we met."
His partner glances down, confused. "You already know that story."
He shrugs, lazily tracing circles on their thigh. "Yeah. But I like the way you tell it."
Hearing them say it, over and over again, reminds him that they chose him. That they still do and that they havenât changed their mind.
Arousal Misattribution â Emotional Overload and the Need for Reassurance
With Harumasaâs high-risk line of work, I think there would be a level of Arousal Misattribution (6).
Arousal misattribution happens when the body experiences heightened physiological arousal from one source (fear, stress, adrenaline, etc.) but the brain misinterprets it as sexual attraction or desire.
I think, for Harumasa, this is particularly relevant because his job is constantly putting him in life-or-death situations. His body is used to stress and adrenaline spikes, so his brain starts associating those feelings with the need for intimacy.
Sex is also beneficial for overall health, and disabled and chronically ill people who have more sex tend to experience a better quality of life and an alleviation of symptoms (7,8).
Harumasaâs underlying abandonment fears make him crave reassurance through physical closeness.
When he comes home from a dangerous mission, his body is still full of adrenaline, tension, and emotional intensity. Instead of processing these feelings through words or rest, he might translate them into an urgent need for intimacy.
His fear of death and the thought of not making it back to his partner often manifest as him coming home, stripping, and throwing himself at them desperatelyâlike theyâre his lifeline.
Unlike Lighter, who seems to disassociate after a fight, the pain being a deterrent, and would not want to engage in sex right away, Harumasa needs to. Otherwise, he becomes anxious and unmoored.
Example 1: Coming Home from a Mission
Harumasa walks through the door after a brutal mission. His hands are shaking slightly from residual stress. But he acts like nothingâs wrong, heâs good at that, and tosses his coat and bow onto a chair, smirking like usual.
But thereâs a flicker of something behind his eyes.
"Miss me?" he asks, his grin seems easy to most but to his partner it's stretched just a little too tight. Not as easy as it usually is with them.
He doesnât wait for an answer before grabbing them, kissing them like heâs starving. They don't even get time to finish what they were doing.
Heâs not just horny. Heâs overwhelmed. His body is still pulsing, buzzing with leftover adrenaline, Subconsciously, he needs to feel something real to remind himself he survived. Itâs not conscious, he doesnât even realize what heâs doing. He just knows that if he doesnât touch them right now, he might spiral.
Example 2: Coming Home Late at Night
Harumasa comes home after a mission. Itâs late, and his skin is itching. He calls out.
 "Iâm home."
Silence. No response. The lack of an answer is unusual. His breath is shallow. His tie is too tight as he stomps upstairs to check the bedroom. His partner is asleep. Harumasa stares at them for a second. He canât help but pout. He begins to undress. He climbs into bed, wraps himself around them, presses kisses against their shoulder.
"Hey. Wake up."
His partner groans, rubbing their eyes. "Youâre insufferable." They register he's completely naked.
"Mm. Thought youâd be awake." His lazy grin is half-visible in the dark room. "Guess I was wrong. But now that youâre awake..."
They mumble as he presses hot, desperate kisses into their skin. "What do you want?"
Harumasa presses closer, arms locked around their waist.
"I can think of a few things."
Final Thoughts
Harumasaâs character is both playful and possessive, deeply affectionate but riddled with anxiety and a fear of loss. Everything he does is a balancing act between his desire for connection and his fear of losing it, between his ability to manipulate situations in his favor and his underlying need to be truly chosen, without tricks or interference.Â
The fact he was left by his parents, abandoned for his sickness before he could talk cuts deep. Since then, a lot of his relationships have a transactional element to them, where he has to give a huge amount of himself, whether physically e.g spine taps and tests with his master or professionally by putting his health on the line in the field of duty. Harumasaâs desire for intimacy is tied to his need to be wanted, his abandonment issues, and proving his lifelong struggle with illness does not exclude him from being worthy of love.
Every physical connection he makes with his partner isnât just about pleasureâitâs about reassurance, grounding, and the overwhelming need to feel wanted. Harumasa is actually a very kind and giving person but very few people get to see how big that side of him really is.
References and Bibliography for Further Reading:
Theswaddle.com. (2019). The Psychology of Sexual Kink. [online] Available at: https://www.theswaddle.com/what-is-kink-the-psychology-behind-sexual-behavior [Accessed 9 Feb. 2025].
âLi, S. (2024). The Psychology of Kink: A CrossâSectional Survey Investigating the Association Between Adult Attachment Style and BDSM-Related Identity Choice in China. Archives of Sexual Behavior, [online] 53(6), pp.2269â2276. doi:https://doi.org/10.1007/s10508-024-02829-1.
When Kinks Come to Life: An Exploration of Paraphilic Behaviors and Underlying Predictors. (2024). The Journal of Sex Research. [online] doi:https://doi.org/10.1080//00224499.2024.2319242.
The Kink Orientation Scale: Developing and Validating a Measure of Kink Desire, Practice, and Identity. (2024). The Journal of Sex Research. [online] doi:https://doi.org/10.1080//00224499.2024.2387769.â
Kibbe, K. (2018). 55 Kinks and Fetishes You Should Absolutely Know. [online] Cosmopolitan. Available at: https://www.cosmopolitan.com/sex-love/a24481923/kinks-fetish-list/ [Accessed 8 Mar. 2025].Â
Neff, M. (2024). Unmasking Emotions: The Science of Misattribution in Social Psychology - Neurodivergent Insights. [online] Neurodivergent Insights. Available at: https://neurodivergentinsights.com/the-misattribution-of-arousal-theory/ [Accessed 8 Mar. 2025].
A Dominguez-Bali, Santana, R., Basta, J., Belizaire, J. and C Dominguez-Bali (2023). (459) Healthy Effects of Sex. The Journal of Sexual Medicine, [online] 20(Supplement_1). doi:https://doi.org/10.1093/jsxmed/qdad060.431.
âRenu Addlakha, Price, J. and Heidari, S. (2017). Disability and sexuality: claiming sexual and reproductive rights. Reproductive Health Matters, [online] 25(50), pp.4â9. doi:https://doi.org/10.1080/09688080.2017.1336375.
MensLine Australia. (2024). Men and intimacy. [online] Available at: https://mensline.org.au/relationship-advice-for-men/men-and-intimacy/#:~:text=Men%20often%20confuse%20sex%20and,to%20experience%20intimacy%20without%20sex. [Accessed 8 Mar. 2025].
Emotional intimacy, sexual desire, and sexual satisfaction among partnered heterosexual men. (2025). Sexual and Relationship Therapy. [online] doi:https://doi.org/10.1080//14681994.2013.870335.
https://www.tiktok.com/@yourdailybanter/video/7451675839659380000?is_from_webapp=1&sender_device=pc&web_id=7441036674731476513
Zenless Zone Zero Wiki and Game - https://zenless-zone-zero.fandom.com/wiki/Asaba_Harumasa
#zenless zone zero#zenless zone zero x reader#asaba harumasa#lighter zzz#zzz harumasa#asaba x reader#harumasa x reader#character analysis
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Babe congrats on quitting!!!
I live coworker!James sm he is so lovely and i cant helĂł bit asking for more
R having a bad day and James doent know until he teeases her and she just like opens up to James a bit more?
thank you!!
You canât escape Remusâ sweet questions of concern, though heâs tactful. âAre you sure youâre okay?â Remus asks, James a haunting somewhere near the customer complaints desk.Â
âIâm fine.âÂ
âYou really donât wanna come to dinner with me?âÂ
Itâs a nice offer, but Remus is part of a package deal, and heâs the only one of the three who isnât exhausting; Remusâ boyfriend Sirius is well meaning but so beautiful and so alarmingly aware of it, while James is all those things too, but much less subtle about it. âIâm too tired for the walking, thank you. Iâm just gonna stay here and eat my sandwich in slow bites.âÂ
Remus laughs, wrapping his scarf tight around his neck. He doesnât tuck it under his coat. Sirius will do that for him. Itâs heartbreaking to see every day, a reminder of real love in the world that will seemingly never touch you, but itâs cute too.Â
James rockets back to his desk. Heâs always in a hurry. Half-frantic, he pulls his rucksack from under his desk and unzips the main body. To your horror, he unveils a large Tupperware of white rice, asparagus, and what looks to be chicken thighs. Next comes his portable knife fork.Â
He notices your watching. âItâs just rice and chicken,â he says defensively.Â
âNo, Iâm notââ You shake your head. âNot about what youâre eating. Eat what you want, James.âÂ
âDonât I always?â he asks. âNot about what Iâm eating. Your general look of disgust and disdain is to do with something else, then. Did you accidentally look in the ladies bathroom mirror again?âÂ
âItâs nothing.âÂ
James tucks his chair in, face paused, hands hesitating at the sides of his dinner and then flat to the desk. âHey, is something wrong?âÂ
Maybe his comment before struck a nerve. Maybe youâre having a terrible day, and everythingâs piling up, and you canât be expected to keep in your feelings forever. Or maybe youâre dumb. âGuess I did look too long in the mirror,â you say.Â
âYouâre upset?â he asks, startled.
You shake your head vehemently. Slow. âIâm just having a bad day.âÂ
âWhat happened?âÂ
You stare at him for a moment, take in the concerned twitch of his brows as they pull down and in, the set of his nice mouth, remarking to yourself on how the snarky sarcasm erases itself from his expression so quickly, leaving behind a boy with a very sweet face.Â
His hand curls into a loose fist. âYou donât have to tell me.âÂ
âI donât know if you ever get this, but sometimes I,â âyour face goes white hot suddenly, an acknowledgment of the powers over you youâre giving him in needing reassuranceâ âlook at myself and I feel a bit off. And I thought if I had lunch by myself Iâd have time to not be looked at? Um. Which is why I was unhappy. Not because of you.â You frown at him. âYou do make me unhappy, though.âÂ
He pretends to laugh at your weak insult, which is generous. âSo you actually did get upset looking in the mirror? Shortcake, I was kidding about that, it's not like it makes any sense.âÂ
You frown at one another. âWhy not?âÂ
âBecause youâre nothing worth being upset over?â James suggests. âYouâre pretty. You know youâre pretty.â He points at you with his fork. âYou do know?âÂ
âNo,â you mumble.Â
âIâm not telling you again,â he says, looking strangely as though heâd quite like to tell you again.Â
âIâm consistently below average.âÂ
âWhere? Do you have an address? I must go to this place where youâre the standard.âÂ
Something weird and queasy summons to life in your chest, before levelling into a surprising pleasure. That was definitely a compliment, and from James, though annoying he might be, it means a lot. Heâs outrageously good looking, after all, and especially when he smiles, which is nearly constant. Heâs smiling now with the fondness of someone who knows you better than he actually does.Â
He ruins it rolling his eyes. âYouâre ridiculous. Which Iâve come to expect!â he says, sliding a thumb under the clasp of his Tupperware. âWhy would you think youâre not lovely? To look at, that is. Youâre a huge pain otherwise.âÂ
âThatâs uncharacteristically mean, even for you.âÂ
âIâm balancing it out. Want some asparagus?âÂ
You excuse yourself for a quick trip to the bathroom, where you mouth questions at your reflection of the puzzled variety. Has James been replaced by a body snatcher? Or are you finally seeing the version of him everybody else in the office seems to know?
When you get back to your desk, your figurines have been upended by a âfreak earthquakeâ. Heâs back to normal.
#james potter#james potter x reader#james potter x fem!reader#james potter x y/n#james potter x you#james potter fic#james potter fluff#james potter blurb#james potter drabble#james potter imagine#james potter fanfic#james potter fanfiction#james potter scenario#james potter oneshot#the marauders#marauders era#marauders
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what kind of future? - jeon wonwoo
warnings: alcohol mention, ANGST!!!! happy ending though so all is well
pairings: jeon wonwoo x reader
genre: exes to lovers
wc: 2.3k
check out my masterlist! // wonwoo's m.list
âwhy did you block me?â your voice comes out small, muffled through the lump in your throat as you stand in front of wonwooâs front door. Itâs saturday night, and youâre clutching plastic bags filled with takeout boxes of all his favorites, the familiar smell of the food wafting into the cold air between you. youâve been worried sick all week, desperate to understand why he cut you out so suddenly, and tonight, after a week of silence from him, you couldnât wait any longer.
wonwoo stares back at you, and even in the dim glow of the porch light, you can see how exhausted he looks. his eyes are bloodshot, rimmed with that drunken haze you recognize from nights out together with friends & also from dates. you can smell the faint alcohol on him, and heâs swaying slightly in the doorway, unsteady but painfully familiar. his dark hair is tousled, and heâs wearing an oversized hoodie and sweats, looking every bit as vulnerable as you feel.
he doesnât answer you. not at first. instead, he laughs, the sound broken and empty, and leans his shoulder against the door frame. âso now you care?â he slurs, voice cracking around the edges. âyou care now that iâm a mess, huh?â
you step closer, the weight of his words pressing against your chest. âwonwoo, iâve always cared,â you argue softly, voice trembling. âwhat happened? why did you block me? did i do something wrong?â
he laughs again, bitter and self-deprecating, before slumping down, sliding his back against the door frame until heâs sitting on the ground. his long legs stretch out in front of him, and he rubs his hands over his face, as if he canât stand to look at you.
you crouch down beside him, setting the takeout bags aside. âwonwoo,â you whisper, reaching out to touch his shoulder, but he flinches away, and the movement cuts deeper than you thought possible.
âi blocked you because iâm tired,â he mutters, voice thick with more than just alcohol. âtired of wanting something i canât have. tired of pretending. i thought... maybe if i just erased you from my life, i could move on.â he looks up then, eyes glistening with unshed tears, and your heart breaks at the sight. âbut it didnât work. nothing works. not even drinking until i canât feel anything.â another bitter laugh left his dry, chapped lips.
youâre stunned, your mind spinning, but part of you understands. itâs a pain you know all too well, a familiar ache that never quite faded. âwonwoo-ah,â you whisper, the name heavy on your tongue, full of memories youâd buried after you two broke up. âwe both tried moving on, didnât we?â the words hang between you, a painful truth neither of you ever wanted to address.
wonwoo looks up at you, the bitterness softening into something achingly vulnerable. âwe did,â he admits, voice cracking. âbut no matter how many times i tried to convince myself i was over you, no matter how hard i fought to just be friends... i couldnât. i just can't.â he runs a shaky hand through his hair, his tears slipping down his cheeks. âgod, do you know how bad it hurts?â
you feel your own tears spill over, remembering how hard it was when you broke up, how you both decided to try and stay friends for the sake of the boys, you've known them for far too long. âi thought i was doing the right thing,â you whisper, voice trembling. âwe both did. but maybeâŠ-â
wonwooâs eyes search yours, the pain and longing there almost too much to bear. âi don't need you to pity me. if you've moved on, just go-â
âgo where exactly wonwoo? who said anything about moving on? do you think i have?â you let out a frustrated sigh.
he cuts you off, throwing his head back with a humorless laugh. âoh, come on,â he says, his voice raising a little, frustration and pain bleeding through. âi saw you. last weekend. with him.â
you blink, confusion clear on your face. âhim? who?â
wonwoo clenches his jaw, his hands curling into fists on his lap. âthat guy you were laughing with at the cafĂ©,â he snaps. âyou looked... so happy. and he was touching your hand, and you didnât pull away. i thought...â he trails off, his voice breaking. âi thought you liked him. i thought you were... moving on
the realization hits you like a punch to the gut. you know exactly who heâs talking about; an old friend who had come into town unexpectedly. it was a friendly catch-up, nothing more. you hadnât even considered that wonwoo wouldâve seen it, much less misunderstood it. you reach for him despite his flinch, your fingers trembling. âwonwoo, that wasnât... that wasnât what you thought,â you say, tears streaking your cheeks. âheâs just an old friend, nothing more. i didnât think you... still felt this way about me.â
wonwoo laughs again, but this time itâs full of disbelief, raw and shaky. âfelt this way?â he echoes in disbelief, voice heavy with emotion. âi never stopped loving you. iâve been trying to bury it for months, trying to be okay with just being friends. but itâs killing me. everything about you still drives me crazy.â he pauses, his voice breaking further. âi tried my best to stay strictly friendly with you, just the way you wanted, to keep up with just being friends for your sake, for the sake of our friendship and the boys. but every time i see you, every time i look at you...it takes everything in me to not reach for you, to not touch you, hold you, kiss you. it hurt so damn much to act like it didnât at all. i really tried to keep my distance, for the sake of our friendship, for the boys...for myself. because i cant afford to lose you completely.. if i ever didâŠit would kill me.â
your voice wavers, thick with emotion. âi didnât think you'd still want me anymore. i-i still love you.â
wonwoo looks up at you, hope flickering in his gaze, âyou..still love me?â
âyes, i-â
his hopeful eyes were swallowed quickly by disbelief. he shakes his head, tears spilling down his cheeks. âno,â he whispers, his voice cracking. âdonât do this. dont do this to me. donât say things just to make me feel better.â
you swallow the lump in your throat, pain slicing through you as you watch him crumble. âiâm not,â you insist, tears pooling in your own eyes. âwonwoo, you just donât get it, do you?â your voice breaks, and your hands tremble as you reach for him. âiâve never stopped loving you. i thought things would be simpler, easier for you if we stayed friends, so i kept my feelings locked up too. but i love you. god, i love you so much that it hurts.â
his breath catches, and his tears fall faster, tracing painful paths down his face. yet still, he doesn't trust himself enough to believe his own 2 ears. âdo you know how much it hurts?â he asks, voice barely a whisper. âthe thought of losing you completely when you left meâŠit hurt so bad that I.. i took whatever you were willing to give me, even if its just to be your friend againâŠI did it even though it killed me inside.â he shudders, the tears slipping down his face. âbut seeing you with someone else broke me. i thought i was strong enough, but... god, it hurts so much.â
wonwoo clings to you like heâs afraid youâll slip away, his grip firm but trembling. his eyes closes shut as he whispers, âi donât want to let go,â voice cracking with every word. âcome back to me. i canât lose you again.â he pulls back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes, searching for any hesitation, any sign that this is still a mistake. but all he finds is the same raw, desperate hope reflected in your gaze.
âyou won't lose me again,â you promise, fingers brushing against his cheeks, wiping away the tears that keep falling. âi love you, i love you just the same, if not more.â
a broken, relieved laugh spills from his lips, and his eyes shine with an overwhelming mix of emotions. âgod, i thought iâd never hear you say that again,â he breathes out, voice full of disbelief. âi was so sure youâd moved on, that you were happier without me.â
ânever,â you say, voice cracking. âi thought about you every day, wondered if you were okay, if you were hurting too. and when we tried to be friends, it was like twisting the knife deeper. because i wanted you so badly, but i was too scared to ruin what little we had left.â
wonwooâs hands move to cradle your face, thumbs brushing over your tear-stained skin. his touch is hesitant, as if heâs afraid youâll disappear if he blinks. âit was the same for me,â he whispers, voice breaking. âevery time i saw you, all i wanted to do was pull you into my arms and never let go. but i kept telling myself i couldnât, that it wasnât fair to you or to anyone else. i clenched my jaw and fought so damn hard to keep my hands to myself, to not reach for you. it killed me every single time.â
âweâve both been hurting for so long,â you say, the weight of everything crashing over you, âlet's not hurt anymore.â
his forehead drops to yours again, and his breath mingles with yours, shaky and uneven. âi love you,â he says, voice raw and full of longing. âiâve loved you through every second of heartbreak, through every moment of pretending. i donât want to lose you ever again.â
âyou wonât,â you repeat, your voice barely a whisper but carrying all the love and hope youâve held onto. ânot this time. weâre both here, and weâre not giving up on each other again.â
he closes the small distance between you, his lips finally pressing against yours, a kiss thatâs both desperate and healing. itâs messy, full of unshed tears and broken sobs, but itâs real, so achingly real. his hands tighten around you, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss, it almost feels like he's trying to dominate you, but you know wonwoo better than this; you know he's not trying to dominate you, he just needs to feel every part of you to believe this is really happening.
when you finally pull back, both of you breathless and still crying, he lets out a shaky laugh, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. âweâre a mess,â he says, his voice full of warmth despite the tears. âbut iâd rather be a mess with you than pretend iâm okay without you.â
you laugh, a real, genuine laugh that comes from the heart, and you nod, resting your head against his chest. âme too.â you whisper, your voice filled with a kind of hope you havenât felt in a long time.
âwill you sleep with me tonight?â wonwooâs voice is small, almost childlike, and he looks at you as though heâs expecting rejection, his dark eyes wide with worry. he swallows, his adamâs apple bobbing slightly, and you can tell heâs barely holding himself together. âi don't think i've had a proper night's rest sinceâŠthat night.â
his gaze drops to the floor, and the silence that follows is heavy, as if he's bracing himself for the worst. heâs so scared that heâs asking for too much, so vulnerable and unsure. he shifts awkwardly, running a hand through his hair. his dark eye circles and pale skin don't go unnoticed by you. âwe won't do anything,â he adds quickly, his voice trembling. âi swear. i just⊠i just want to sleep with you. to feel your heartbeat close, to hold youââ he pauses, clenching his jaw, struggling to put his longing into words as he lets out a breath, âitâs the only way i think i can rest, even just for a little while.â
the way he finishes his plea, the unspoken desperation lacing his words, makes your heart twist painfully in your chest. heâs usually so composed, so steady, but right now he looks as fragile as glass, like one wrong move could shatter him completely.
âwonwoo,â you whisper softly, pulling him closer. his head snaps up, and he looks at you with hopeful yet cautious eyes, like heâs terrified to hope for too much. you reach out, resting your palms against both his cheeks, and he freezes at the warmth of your touch.
âof course,â you say, your voice gentle and soothing, trying to reassure him. âof course we can.â your thumb rubs small, comforting circles over his cheeks, and you give him a soft smile. âiâm here, okay? iâll stay with you.â
wonwooâs eyes glisten with unshed tears, and he lets out a shaky breath, relief washing over his face. his hand tightens around yours, and he looks at you as if youâre his safe place, the only one who can mend the aching void in his chest.
âthank you,â he murmurs, his voice cracking.
âcome on, lets have dinner first.â you say as your hands clung onto his, pulling him up with you, and wonwoo takes a tentative step closer, as though afraid you might disappear if he moves too fast. you donât, though. youâre right there, just as you promised.
and for the first time in what feels like forever, he feels like he can finally breathe; and he does. tonight, he found the appetite that he's lost for the past few months, he even slept through the night for the first time in months. wonwoo prays that this is the kind of future that lies in front the both of you. he doesn't think he could do it with anyone else if it isn't you.
#seventeen#seventeen imagine#seventeen fluff#svt#svt fluff#svt x reader#svt angst#fanfic#seventeen x reader#jeon wonwoo x reader#jeon wonwoo fluff#jeon wonwoo angst#jeon wonwoo imagines#jeon wonwoo fanfic#wonwoo x reader#jeon wonwoo seventeen#seventeen jeon wonwoo#wonwoo seventeen#seventeen wonwoo#wonwoo angst#wonwoo fluff#wonwoo imagines#wonwoo fanfic#seventeen fanfic
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Can I request batboys learn of reader's fake death, she is on a mission and they find her.


Reader can be read as gn or whoever you see fit.
Dick
âIs that you?â Dick asks softly as he neared you.
âNo.â You replied in hopes that heâd leave but you knew deep down that he wouldnât, not if leaving meant leaving you behind also. Not the way you chose to erase yourself out of the picture for this stupid suicide mission.
Dick on the other hand was hellbent to not loose you again, the house you both built wasnât a home if you werenât in it to share it with him and Hayley, the poor dog was still fast sleeping on your side of the bed before Dick left for his nightly patrol; Hayley missed you very much and would whimper when she realises that your scent was slowly fading away.
It hurt Dick more then he liked to admit, and he tried to suppress it for as long as he could but he would often find himself trying to look for you in other people, other things but it always ended with him looking at the pictures of the two of you on the wall and feeling nothing but cold. Everything felt out of place without you but Dick would always try to act as though he was coping better then he was behind closed doors doors, clutching at the clothes youâll never wear again as he silently sobs into the fabric.
Now here you were stood before him in what people would call as pure coincidence or luck because anyone would give anything to see their lost ones again, absolutely anything, even if it was by morally questionable means and Dick can understand the reason why that might be.
âI- I wish I could tell you but I canât.â You replied, not wanting to put Dick in danger because of the dangerous people youâve wronged.
âWhy not?â Dick asked, worried that something had happened when he wasnât nearby to help.
âIt doesnât concern you.â You told him as you tried to make distance but Dick was quick to close it. âIt does concern me if it involves you.â He says lowly, gently reaching out to hold your face to make sure this was real and not a dream and when you leaned into his touch, eyes closed shut Dick lets out a relieved sigh as his thumbs stroke your cheeks. âSo please, donât make me loose you again. let me help.â He whispered, resting his forehead against yours.
Now you really couldnât reject his help, he made it impossible just like how he made it impossible for you not to fall in love with him all over again.
Tim
Didnât know what to expect from what he was seeing.
He had heard that there was someone of your stature going about town during the night but he wasnât one to believe it until heâs seen it with his own eyes. So when he did catch of glimpse of you or someone pretending to be you, he didnât know what to do, he was brought back to where he was when he found out about your supposed death; helpless and confused as to how such a thing could happen.
It wasnât until your eyes met his did Tim feel his blood go cold from how dull and borderline dead your eyes looked when glaring right at him. There was a flash of familiarity but that was gone before Tim could blink, something was wrong, very wrong but he didnât know what exactly.
You werenâtâŠwell you.
Now Tim did have dreams about what heâd do if you were to be magically reanimated, brought back to life but those were dreams for a reason, a alternative reality that didnât abide to realism or the more likeliest of outcomes; this was reality and reality wasnât pretty and is often disappointing on most accounts.
So Tim stood there, frozen as you made a quick exit, much to the confusion of his siblings -Dick and Damian- who knew how hard your death had struck Tim, they didnât need to be told how difficult it mustâve been to see your dead partner somehow alive again.
âAre you okay?â Dick asks.
âSomethings wrong.â Tim said. âWhy would they feel the need to fake their own death and not tell me about it beforehand?â He asks himself.
âOnly if someone powerful wanted you dead.â Damian suggested. âWhat other reason is there besides that one?â
âIf thatâs truly is the case,â Tim began as he looked between Dick and Damian, âthen why reappear after only a week? Itâd be common sense to stay low for far longer until the smoke clears, unless...â
Dick then places a hand on Timâs shoulder. âLooks like weâve got work to do.â
Tim wasnât certain what he would do if you ever did come back, but now it seems as though he did know; to save you from whatever has been nipping at your heels.
Jason
Wasnât sure whether or not the sleepless nights had finally caught up to him ever since your passing, spending them staring at the door to your shared bedroom as though youâd magically walk through it with a smile, telling him that everything that had happened was just a nightmare before kissing him on the forehead and cuddling into his side to fall asleep.
However Jason had pinched his skin that many times to know well enough that was all a fallacy created by his own mind because he didnât want you seeing the man heâd become from whether afterlife you resided in.
So when he spotted sow thing he believes looked a lot like your silhouette, his body followed after it, much like it did whenever things pertaining to you sparked that sense of familiarity within him, that sense of home and belonging. However this lack of subtly on his end didnât end up well as he was soon enough laid flat out on his back as your masked face hovered over his.
âWhy were you following me?â You asked through gritted teeth.
âI thought you were dead.â He replied In disbelief.
âThat was the plan until you ruined it.â You grunted as you pulled him up to his feet, âyou werenât followed were you?â You asked as your eyes shifted from shadow to shadow.
âNo, listen sweetheart-â Jason tried to speak but you sharply shushed him. âWhatâs going on, you can tell me.â He now whispers and you sigh, finding it hard to exist within the same space as Jason without hugging him to death, but you couldnât risk dragging him into your troubles.
âI canât.â You tell him, knowing that there was a heartbroken expression behind that red helmet of his, âand even if I can all I would be allowed to say is that some bad people are after me.â Jasonâs shoulders tensed at this.
âWhy did you say anything earlier.â He asked, he was holding back from exploding because had this been brought up earlier then maybe, just maybe, he wouldnât have to be subjected to witnessing your âdeath.â âI couldâve helped you out-â
âAnd risk you becoming their next target? Not thanks Jason I already lost you once Iâm not doing it again.â You tell him firmly but he wasnât having it, not after what you put him through. âAnd I thought I lost you or has that not ever come to mind.â He bites back with the sharpness of someone who was deeply hurt by the actions of someone who he loved more than life.
âJason.â You tried to say but you knew him better then most, once his mind had been made up there was little chance to change it.
âNo. Iâm going to help you get out of this mess, either you want me to or not, this is my war now.â Jason tells you as he marched ahead. You sighed as you followed after him.
This was going to be a long night.
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