#if you dont have anything nice to say then this is your warning: dont say it keep scrolling and stay off my post

[slowcinnamon]

let me love you

bangchan x f reader

words counted: 9927

warnings: alcohol use, public tension?, oral sex (f rec), fingering (f rec), unprotected sex (dont!!!), daddy kink (soft), praise kink, a bit of emotional manipulation?? softdom!chris - let me know if i forgot smthing plsss

genre: romance, angst n smut

summary: chris and you have been best friends for many years, slowly beginning to have feelings for each other but you two had never confessed it for fear of rejection, although you know how you both felt about each other. his birthday was almost there and you wanted it to buy a nice and original gift, so with all your savings, you ordered a silver necklace that you had completely designed.

author's note: hiiiiii!!! this is my first fic, hehe. constructive comments are accepted :P hope you like it !!! :3

ฅ/ᐠ˶> ﻌ<˶ᐟ\ฅ

At this point in your life, it was no longer a secret that you and Chris liked each other.

You two had been best friends for years, each slowly developing feelings for the other and, although you never confessed it because of each other's fears and problems, everyone knew it, even you both.

Neither of you had ever said anything to the boys, but they themselves quickly realized when your looks and moments together went from being sweet and innocent to having deep meanings; those intimate and intense looks, the too long touches or the way you had to be close to each other in all situations, even unconsciously.

You yourselves began to realize each other's feelings due to the constant teasing of the boys, the way you missed each other or the deeply sincere conversations that you always shared about your life or emotions although you was never completely honest with him because of your own fears and issues; fears based on not being enough for him and lacking everything he was. He was an idol and you were just an ordinary person. The issues of the constant comparison with the people around him, always telling yourself that he needed someone like him, someone from his world so that he wouldn't lower himself. You loved him, deeply, that's why you pushed him away every time you could.

Therefore, being his best friend and keeping things platonical already seemed enough to you and your feelings.

It had been a few hours since Chris's birthday had started and you were with Changbin and Hyunjin, the three of you waiting for the bartender to finish preparing your fourth mojito of the night. For the occasion, and after having Hyunjin, Felix and Jeongin at your house for two hours discussing what you were going to wear, you decide to be totally faithful to your style.

"I don't know why I listen to you, honestly. I feel out of place with what I'm wearing" you murmur while once again, letting out a sigh while you continue resting your back on the bar counter and take another quick look at the huge room that Chris had reserved for his birthday, which was completely full with famous people in their expensive clothes.

"You're always exaggerating, there are plenty of people more dressed down than you," Changbin says as he takes a sip of his drink, also looking around the room. Changbin’s dresses in a black suit and Hyunjin has a white suit on, with a few buttons of his white dress shirt unbuttoned.

Hyunjin nods with a small mischievous smile, "Oh, yes. Look at that one..." while discreetly pointing his head at a girl who’s dressed in a red dress and yellow heels, he murmurs, then suppresses a giggle as he takes a quick sip of his drink, "She's the female version of the McDonald's clown." you nudge him gently, trying to suppress a laugh as you listen how Changbin can't contain himself and bursts into laughter along with Hyunjin.

Hyunjin's laugh begins to grow louder and he covers his mouth with his hand, almost choking on his drink as he watches the girl from afar. Changbin also laughs at Hyunjin laughing and pats his back, "S-stop it, bro. You're going to die from laughing." Hyunjin holds his chest before breathing a bit, "Oh God, I can't stand it. And she looks so happy in that dress."

You can't help but make a comment too, “Maybe she thought it was a costume party,” still suppressing a giggle and Changbin laughs again, this time, covering his mouth to avoid spitting out his drink.

Hyunjin nods and takes a big sip of his drink, trying to calm himself down, "The only thing that's missing is that she starts distributing hamburgers to everyone. That would be the cherry on top." he laughs after saying it and you two burst out laughing at Hyunjin's comment.

Changbin then pats Hyunjin's back again and lets out a sigh, "God, you're going to make me pee myself from laughing as hard as we are right now."

"I didn't know Chris had friends who cosplayed," you say again, unable to stop making comments while turning your back on the girl to start laughing.

Hyunjin and Changbin burst into laughter again, the tall one puts his drink down on the counter to keep himself from choking on it. When the two finally stop laughing, Hyunjin stands straight and leans against the bar counter again, taking a big sip of his drink before he speaks again, "At least we're not the only ones laughing, I saw Felix and Jeongin dying of laughter a few minutes ago."

Changbin chuckles and takes another sip of his drink, leaning casually against the bar counter as well, "I'd be concerned about Chris but he seems to be having the time of his life," he motions to glance over at Chris, who can be seen chatting and laughing with multiple people around the room.

You and Hyunjin follow Changbin's gaze, watching Chris seem to be enjoying himself. Your gaze stops to observe how he laughs, showing his dimples before you lower your gaze to his clothes, beginning to drool internally at seeing him once again in that black suit with a couple of buttons undone. But before you start to eat him with your eyes, the voice of the bar waiter tells you that your drink is ready, breaking you out of your trance and taking your gaze away from Chris to direct it to the waiter, thanking him before picking it up and carrying the straw to your lips to sip the mojito.

As you take a sip of your drink, you notice Hyunjin and Changbin sharing a knowing glance between the two of them before Hyunjin speaks once again, "So..." he begins, raising his eyebrow as he glances at you, "Have you given Chris his birthday gift yet?"

Changbin raises his eyebrows a bit and takes another sip of his drink, his eyes also on you as he silently listens to the conversation while Hyunjin waits for your response.

"No, not yet," you answer as you look at them a little excited, making both raise their eyebrows, then you gently bite your lower lip, leaving the drink on the countertop and looking back to where Chan is, "I wanted to give it to him earlier but it seems like he doesn't get tired of talking and talking and I don't want to cut him off." you look back at the boys to shrug, downplaying it, "I'll give it to him later." Hyunjin and Changbin's curiosity only grows more as they continue to look at you.

"You seem excited," Hyunjin teases with a smirk and Changbin nods as he smiles.

"Yeah, a little too excited.” he narrows his eyes, “What did you get him?"

“Uhm... I asked a jeweler to make a necklace I had designed for Chris a reality.” you murmur a little shyly, feeling your cheeks take on a slight pink tone and then pick up your drink and take a small sip, “So a personalized and... unique necklace in the world?”

Hyunjin and Changbin exchange a glance between themselves, both of them impressed at the amount of effort you put into Chris' present. In front of the intrigued looks of the boys, you decide to show them the gift before they start asking. You set the drink on the countertop and open your bag, pulling out a small black satin box, which you open to reveal its contents.

The necklace was made of silver with eight small stars, representing SKZ, on the sides and a cross similar to the Chrome Hearts' design in the middle but with the difference that in the middle of it, was a small black diamond.

You let Hyunjin's hands take the small box so the two of them could inspect the contents as they both stare down at the necklace, speechless and both impressed with how good the necklace looked.

"Damn, that's... beautiful. I didn't know you were putting so much effort into this."

Hyunjin nods in agreement, his eyebrows raised in curiosity, "Let me guess... was it expensive?"

“Kinda.”

"God, I knew you were going to do that." Changbin says as he shakes his head, "Of course you were going to spend all your savings on him.”

You roll your eyes as you gently shake your head and Hyunjin hands you back the box, which returns to your bag before you close it, "It's the first time I've bought something expensive from Chris. I'm a bit uneasy in case he gets all 'I don't want you to spend money on me' mood."

Hyunjin and Changbin both agree with you at the same time, "He's definitely going to do that," they both say, and you can't do anything but snort a bit as Changbin continues speaking, "That idiot doesn't like people spending a lot of money on him but he’ll put it on as soon as you give it to him," they both keep their eyes on you for a few more seconds before Changbin glances back at Chan and murmurs, “You’re never going to ask each other out, are you?"

You feel heat start to burn in your face as you hear Changbin's words, a small smile settling on your lips. Even though you had never confessed anything and both of you continued to silently suffer, you were well aware that the two boys knew about it. And that makes you feel a little embarrassed, because honestly, you hated having to talk about it and having to repeat the same answer over and over again. You hated their speeches about your emotions and the attempts to 'make you open your eyes'.

Deep down inside you knew that your actions only caused immense pain to Chan, who wanted to shower you in all his love and make you see that you were more than enough for him, but your fears had always controlled your life.

“Never,” you murmur in response while shaking your head and they both sigh as you leave the glass empty and you call the bartender's attention, "A vodka with lemon, please."

After your second glass of vodka with lemon, your senses began to become blurred. You had continued talking to Changbin and Hyunjin but you didn't remember a single thing that had come out of their mouths, just the way you kept giggling as you continued ordering drinks.

At some point, Chris stopped talking to the group and approached you, laughing at your jokes and enjoying the company and due to your state, you couldn’t help but begin to navigate towards the territory that you had forbidden yourself. The party was at its peak, with most people drinking and dancing while enjoying themselves, but you still hadn't given your gift to Chan.

Hyunjin was trying to explain a joke but between how he slurred his words and how he laughed while explaining it, no one understood him, you were just laughing at the scene. Changbin, who was the most sober of the group, watched the scene with a raised eyebrow while laughing until he saw how you and Chris were looking at each other while laughing and spoke when a comfortable silence fell among the group after the laughter, "Are you going to give him the gift or what?"

"Oh, yes, yes..." you murmur with your pinky cheeks due to alcohol. With slightly shaky hands, you open your bag for the second time that night, pulling out the small box and reaching your hand towards him so Chan could grab it.

"I hope you like it," you murmur excited and nervous, taking a quick look at his hands before focusing on his face.

His hand slowly reaches out, taking the box from your grasp as his eyes continue to stay focused on you, "You didn't have to-"

Changbin huffs from behind and interrupts his sentence, "Just open it, Chan."

He can feel your gaze staring at him which only causes his own body to become tense and his heart to palpitate a bit more than it already was and you chew on your lower lip nervously as your eyes watch him open the black box, his eyes almost widening a bit surprised as he processes the contents of said box.

"Holy shit..." he murmurs as he stares down at the silver necklace in complete awe, his eyes tracing every single little detail that was on the jewelry.

He delicately takes the necklace out of the box, almost handling it with the same care he would handle a newborn baby, examining it closely and you start to grow even more nervous. As he turns the necklace around, you feel even more anxious at the idea of him hating your gift and your breath gets stuck in your throat when he finally looks back at you with his doe eyes.

"You don't like it?" you speak quickly, making your words slur a little as you look at him totally embarrassed and take another step to take the necklace from his hands, "I-I can change it, you know? I can tell him th-"

"No, what? No" Chan's immediate response, quickly as yours, interrupts your thoughts and he tightens his grip on the necklace, not giving you the chance to take it from his grasp, “I do like it. I actually love it.”

Your body relaxes when you see how a small smile begins to widen on his mouth, perfectly showing his dimples as he once again stares down at the silver necklace in his grasp, making you let out a small sigh of relief. You know he's not lying when he says he loves it; his ears begin to turn crimson.

"I just..." he starts again as that smile he has on his face never falters, "I just wasn’t expecting this... How much did it cost you?”

"It doesn't matter" your response is immediate, noticing how a small frown creases Chris’ forehead as he begins to open his mouth again to probably start a monologue, but so before he can say anything, not wanting to hear him say the same thing over and over again, Hyunjin chimes in.

"Can I see it?" Hyunjin cuts him off before a word comes out of his mouth, leaning in to get a better view as he puts a hand on your shoulder, a silent and discreet way of saying 'I've got you' and Chan nodds. “Damn,” Hyunjin says, feigning surprise and looking at the small jewelry on Chan's grisp as if he hadn't seen it before, “I always knew you had a good taste. It looks cool.”

You smile a bit when you see him helping in the situation, but your attention then goes back to Chris, who continues to stare at the piece of jewelry in his hands with a frown on his mouth.

“I…" Chan starts again as he tightens his hold on the necklace a bit, almost as if someone could take it from him, "I really do love it... But you shouldn’t have-"

Again, Changbin steps between the interaction, “Yeah, yeah. Can’t people do anything without you lecturing them all the time, goddamnit?” his tone is a bit annoyed as he rolls his eyes at his friend, "She just wanted to pamper you for your birthday. Just accept the damn gift, Chris,” he lets out as he lightly slaps at the leader's shoulder and Chan lets out a sigh. You have to suppress a chuckle at the scene before you, knowing that Changbin was speaking for everyone with his words. Chris's grip relaxes on the jewel and his gaze returns to you, searching for words to appreciate the gift, he knows he should just be thankful but that feeling in his chest prevents him.

"Don't worry Chris, it's okay," you try to reassure with a small smile and your shoulder receives a squeeze from Hyunjin before he returns to his previous position, leaning on the bar. Chris raises his hand, his eyes flickering between it and your face, offering you the necklace as he asks, "Can you… can you help me put it on?" you nod.

Your heart fluttered in your chest at his request as you took a step closer to him, and Chan’s heart practically leaped into his throat. Your hands carefully take the necklace from him and with slightly shaky fingers, you place the necklace around Chris’ neck; the cold metal of the necklace coming in contact with his skin and making him shiver slightly, making him hyper-aware of every movement, touch or breath. He can’t help but lean into your touch just a little bit, relishing in the feeling of the proximity of you and your face.

You fastened it and made sure it was sitting properly before moving it around his neck, making the necklace clasp stay at the back of his neck. But even though you have just closed the clasp, you stay where you were while you lower your hands to your sides; not separating yourself even a centimeter from him and he doesn’t dare to move or speak either.

Chris's cologne come directly in with every breath you took, along with that look in his eyes; that look that beggs you to let go for once and finally give in to your desires repressed for years made your mind go back to the fine line you have been avoiding all night when he returned to your side.

But as quickly as the moment came, as quickly it leaves when you hear Hyunjin’s whisper to Changbin, which has come out louder than he wanted.

You finally look away from his eyes, and Chris does the same, avoiding eye contact to try and hide how red his face and ears have become, causing an awkward silence to hang in the air. You turn to look at the guys, who look at you both with a clumsiness look in their eyes and Changbin glances at Hyunjin before grabbing his arm and pulling him away from the bar.

"I... I think we’re going to go find Han," Changbin quickly says, not wanting Hyunjin to disturb any longer between you and Chan and begins to move away from you, dragging the highest, "See you... later?" both you and Chris murmur a soft "yeah, see you later" as you watch the two boys leave, hearing a “good job, dumbass” from Changbin.

After the two boys leave, an uncomfortable silence fills the atmosphere around you and Chris. You can feel a lump in your chest, probably the alcohol mixed with your own emotions; your breath falters a small bit, and your heart pounds with a force you didn’t know you could feel, you feel your skin burn with desire.

With your eyes focusing on the floor in front of you, you bite your lower lips, the taste of vodka on your tongue. You know that you shouldn’t look up. You know that if you look up, you won’t be able to look away.

As if your head was on autopilot, you slowly lift your gaze, letting your eyes travel up to his face. The necklace was perfect on him, the silver contrasting perfectly with his skin and the black of his clothes. His eyes immediately turn to yours, as if he was already waiting, as if his focus had never left you. You feel your heartbeat get faster, your breathing labored as the alcohol running through your body makes everything more intense.

"Uhm... It looks good on you," is the first thing you think of saying to try to reduce the awkwardness. You try to look back at the necklace, at something other than his eyes, but you can't, feeling the alcohol take over every one of your senses, the sound of the people having fun in the background muffling, everything feeling distant, like if you were trapped in a bubble only the two of you can see. His own eyes are roaming all over your face too, the desire and hunger in them making your legs feel like jelly, as if he could take you right there.

"Yeah?” he murmurs in response, his voice slightly low, almost a soft caress that makes your senses go even crazier. He takes a small step towards you, invading your personal space without even caring, reducing the space between you almost completely, "You like how it looks on me?"

He is trying to be cheeky, and you can see it in his eyes. You bite your lower lip, your brain screaming to look away, to not get carried away by the intense gaze of the man in front of you. You know you’re a couple of seconds away from starting something, but you still don’t look away from him, chewing your lower lip again and a lucid idea comes to your mind; it was as if he...

"You've been waiting for us to be alone."

“Maybe.”

"How drunk are you?," you ask carefully, knowing that you two are starting to not think rationally.

"Honestly? Pretty drunk" he confesses, his words coming out slightly slurred, but even then, you can clearly hear the desire in his voice, “You?”

“Same. Enough to regret tomorrow”

Both of you stare at each other, analyzing, feeling that same tension coursing through the air. You didn’t need to say much, you didn’t need to speak with words, each of you knows what the other is thinking, each of you are aware of the fine line of the situation and the alcohol is making everything more intense. The look in his eyes, the way he keeps staring at you without blinking an eye,his cologne flooding your senses in the best and worst way possible. It’s all too much, and yet, it's still not enough.

"Chris, no- we're not thinking rationally," you mutter, slurring your words a little because of how quickly they come out of your mouth, "We're supposed to have a line, remember? And we're about to cross it-”

“Then push me away,” he almost dares you as he cutt you off, his hands slowly slide next to your arms as grabs the edge of the countertop, pinning you against the counter of the bar, “Tell me you don't wanna and I swear I won't do it again.”

“I…” you murmur under your breath, trying to think of anything to stop both of your brains from fading into the drunken lust.

“You what? You’re scared?” he asks rhetorically, raising an eyebrow and then letting out a quiet sigh, “Don't you realize that we can't continue like this? I like you, you like me. Why don't you let me love you?”

You both looked into each other's eyes with an intensity that revealed all the feelings that you did not let come to the surface and tried to bury. You look into his chocolate brown eyes as if you’re bewitched by them and the way his eyes seem to almost stare into your soul. The closeness creates as if the world around you were a simple blur that makes you feel even dizzier.

His mind is clouded with all the things he wants to say and do, but the words are stuck in his throat for the way you were looking at him, making him feel like he’s the only person in the world. Chan's eyes darts downwards to your lips for a brief moment before quickly flicking back up to your eyes and he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly, when he found himself leaning just a millimeter closer to you, lips almost brushing yours.

“Let me love you, please…” he whispers in a low tone, making the words sound like a breathless prayer on his tongue.

You know it's wrong, you'll regret it the moment your mind becomes fully conscious again but your body simply can't keep up with the self-imposed prohibition nor even the same beg look in his eyes, so you just lock your lips with his.

With your soft, sweet permission as you close your eyes, Chan allows himself to move the hand he has on the edge of the countertop to place it on the side of your neck, cupping it and immediately closing his eyes at the contact.

The party, the people, the loud music, everything, disappear as a lost train that never returns. It feels like every nerve in your bodies is ignited as you both savor the taste of the other; every bit of non-talked emotions replaced by an overwhelming wave.

Chan kisses you with a sweet intensity as if he’s trying to make up for the years of suppressed feelings. He pulls you closer to him, his other hand finding your hip and resting on it as he deepened the kiss, his tongue gently requesting entrance between your lips, which you gave it to him with delight as your hands travel to his shoulders.

You open your mouth slightly and Chris doesn’t waste a second entering it, causing your right hand to slide to the back of his head, grabbing his hair between your fingers as if your life depen on it. Chris lets a guttural sound escape his throat and buries his fingers hard into your hip, which you respond with a soft gasp.

His tongue explores your mouth eagerly, tasting and claiming every inch, leaving the two of you in a moment of undeniable connection and raw emotion and with a shudder; he gently pushes you against the countertop, tilting your head a bit to give him better access to your mouth, making you moan quietly in response.

Chris swallows the sound of your moan, feeling a wave of desire wash over him as he pushes you harder against it and his body against yours, pinning you between himself and the cold surface behind you.

He pulls back, both of you breathless, just enough to trail kisses down your jaw and throat, his nose pressing into the soft skin of your neck as he drank in the scent of you and taste of your skin, leaving hot kisses along your neck as he slowly makes his way to your lips, also leaving a quick there before separating his face from you.

Chris rests his forehead against yours as he, despite the desire coursing through him, can’t help but admire the sight of you; eyes shining while looking at him, lips parted and in a reddish color.

His eyes linger over your messy figure for a few seconds, his tongue moistening his lips as if he could still taste you in them, as if you could still melt in his mouth, "Let’s get out of here.”

“But your birthday party-”

“Fuck it."

He took a step back, reluctantly releasing his grip on your hip, but his other hand grabbed yours, lacing his fingers through yours and started to lead you inside the club and towards the exit.

"And the boys?"

"I’ll text them later."

Not even your mind responded clearly anymore, so clouded by the taste of his mouth and the desire for his hands to run over your body that you couldn't articulate any denial.

Chris hailed a cab and in the blink of an eye, you two were at your apartment, your lips locking againg once he closed the door. Everything happened so quickly as you walked blindly to your room, leaving your pieces of clothes and shoes along the way.

You realize you were both only wearing underwear when your back hits the soft sheets of your bed and your head the pillows, with Chris on top of you.

Chan breaks the kiss briefly to trail his mouth around your throat for a few seconds, trying to contain the desire that was coursing through his entire being as he tastes your skin and hear your gasps in response, and he move his mouth down to your collarbone, leaving open-mouthed kisses over your chest and then going down to your stomach, his hot tongue leaving a hot stripe of saliva as he continues to go down until he reaches your hip bone, suddenly felt your fingers tugging the strands of his hair.

Chris stops immediately to raise his head a little, looking at you with doe eyes, captivated by the image in front of him. His hands travel from your hips to the edge of your panties, slowly lowering them as you raise your hips a little to help him and throwing them somewhere in the moonlit room.

He lets out a gasp as he looks at your exposed wet pussy, and you see his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows in an almost greedy way. His eyes seem as if he's admiring some kind of rare diamond, and even if you want to hide and feel self-conscious about your body, the look in his eyes makes you shiver, the intensity with which he looks at you makes you feel like the most beautiful girl to step on earth.

"Tell me how bad you want it" he whispers, almost in a daze, as his hands travel again to your thighs, feeling your skin like a delicate fabric, tracing patterns over your inner legs, to which you respond by lowering a bit his head until his nose and lips brush against your folds, “Use your words, princess.” his breath directly against your cunt causes a cold shiver to run down your spine, anticipating the pleasure and you let out a quiet gasp.

“Please…” you whisper in a tremulous tone, feeling your cheeks burn with desire and perhaps a little bit of embarrassment for the intense look of the man in front of you and you bite your lower lip as he brushes his nose over your folds again, enjoying the way you squirm under his touch; your response to his pleas makes him feel a wave of satisfaction and heat in his stomach, “I-I want it so bad, please Chris”

"There we go" Chris praises you quietly, a satisfied smile on his lips, "You're doing such a good job for me, princess, I know you can do better." He gives your aching pussy a quick lick, making you whine, as if he was analyzing your reaction, and then wets his lips to speak again, "Tell me how you want me to touch you, I need to know, yeah?,” you eagerly nod and he slowly, gently pushes your legs a little more apart and he leans in a little more between them, his breath warming your core before he buries himself on your pussy.

Chris starts soft, even gentle; moving his tongue up and down and sucking your bundle of nerves with his gaze fixed on you and your reactions to know if you’re liking his work, but with every whimper or moan that comes out of your mouth, he increases the intensity, reaching to the point that he’s eating you as if it was his first meal in years. The obscene sounds his mouth makes while sucking your clit and the way you squirm under him fills your room, together with the light of the moon coming in through the slightly open window and shining a light on Chris, making his eyes shine, are the only things your head can focus on right now. Every nerve of your body is connected to his mouth and there’s nothing more delicious, making you clench your fists in his soft hair.

“Fuckfuck, Chris, Chris-” is all you can manage to murmur in a soft moan, not feeling yourself in control of your own words as his chocolate glossy gaze’s still fixed on you, “Fingers, fingers please.” The sweet, impatient plea makes him feel proud; proud to have you moan and shiver like that, to have you writhing under him so nicely and a sound that’s between a satisfied moan and a soft, low laugh comes from his mouth as soon the word ‘fingers’ leaves your mouth. Chris immediately obeys, “Yeah, baby, I got you” purrs against your wetness, leaving a wet kiss before pulling himself away as he takes his right hand from your right thigh and bringing his middle and ring fingers to your folds; rubbing them to catch your juices mixed with their saliva and bring them to your lips. Chris doesn't have to say anything for you to open your mouth and start sucking his fingers as if it was the most important mission of your life.

“Such a good girl, mh?” he praises you again, watching intently with his pupils dilated the way you seem to enjoy savouring the mix, “I would never have guessed you were that nasty.” he teased, tilting his head slightly before slowly removing his fingers, now wet with your saliva, from your mouth and bringing them to you core. He moves them down your entrance, mocking you as you can feel how you clench around nothing and without any notice, slides them in a smooth motion, feeling how tight and warm you are.

Your eyebrows furrow at the sudden intrusion and you look at him with your mouth open, unable to say a word when he begins to move them inside you, curving them to easily hit your sweet spot, “Did I make you that excited?” he asks in a teasing tone while leans towards to place his lips on the crook of your neck, biting softly without looking away from you. A whiny “Chris- fuck yes” comes from your throat, one of your hands grips his wrist tightly; feeling in your grip how his muscles tense and relax as he moves his fingers and you close your eyes, still with your brows furrowed. "Keep… Saying my name, you sound… So pretty," he mutters between bites, his eyes fixed on your expressions as he picks up the speed of his fingers, "Will you keep being a good girl for daddy?”

Daddy. Daddy. Daddy. It echoes through your mind and you involuntarily cum around his fingers, making you both moan at the action at the same time that your fluids ran down Chris's wrist. Chris stops his work on your neck to raise his head and look at you carefully, a teasing smile on his face, "Did you just cum on my fingers because I called myself ‘daddy’?” his fingers lower the intensity, riding your orgasm and bringing you out breathless gasps.

Your eyes flutter, face completely flushed as you catch your breath from your sudden orgasm, not being able to articulate many words. When your eyes finally lock with his, his satisfied and teasing smile pronounces, “Don’t look at me like that,” you murmur as he brings his wet fingers to his mouth for a quick taste before licking them clean with one of his eyebrows raised. “You look cute,” Chris responds once he removes his fingers and slides his hand down your throat until he brings it to the side of your neck, cradling it while his mouth approaches your jaw to begin a route of kisses to your mouth, "But answer me."

“Yeah, yeah, I did,” he continues his path of kisses up to your mouth, gently biting your lower lip, “I thought so… Does it make you feel good to have daddy taking care of you?” he asks in a sweet tone, completely contrary to the weight of the phrase, before leaving a small kiss on your lips. You can’t help but purr softly a “Yes… Daddy,” that makes him kiss you again, smiling against your lips. Chris sits on his knees between your legs, still with his face close to yours and he takes your wrist in his free hand, bringing it to his black design boxers, letting you feel his thick hard cock under them, “You think your tight little pussy can handle me?,” you swallow, already imagining how it looks, but the moment he lets out your wrist and pulls his boxers down, leaning up straight for you to see him, your mouth and pussy wets again; a big red tip monster. You look at him with slightly widened eyes and he chuckles, “Small packages have big surprises, babe.”

The view in front of you is magnificent, to say the least; broad shoulders, muscular arms with some veins popping, delicious and big pecs that make the necklace you gift him look simple, abs where his hard cock collides with and that teasing look as he bites his lip, capturing all your reactions. Your skin crawls while you entrance clenchs again around nothing and you unconsciously open your legs more, to which he responds by pulling down his boxers completely and throwing them away.

Chris looks at your dripping pussy for a few seconds, swallowing the lump in his throat, “Liking what you see, princess?” asks with an arrogant smile, “You look delicious while mouth-watering yourself”. He leans over you again, slowly approaching the warmth of your body, lowering his head to press his lips to the sensitive skin of your neck and leaving a trail of small kisses until he reaches your ear. “Let’s see if daddy can make you mindless, shall we?” he whispers as his fingertips ghosts the skin of your thighs until he reaches your knees and grips them to lift your legs, placing them on his shoulders.

His grip loosens and his left hand lowers to his throbbing dick, pumping himself before lining himself up to your wet entrance as he rubbs his tip on your juices, "Tell me if it hurts, okay?" he whispers again against your ear, grabbing your waist and slowly pulling his hips towards you, entering his tip. He continues to bring his hips closer to yours until he fully enters and feels the way your walls receive him; squeezing him and in turn, soaking him. Both of you moan due to the new sensation and Chris lets his forehead rest on your shoulder, taking the opportunity to leave a love bite on the skin of your collarbone.

“You’re so tight… Fuck,” he says through his teeth while he feels your body adjusting to him and he lifts his head from your shoulder to lock his gaze with yours. His hair is disheveled and his eyes are slightly glossy, making him look more beautiful than usual. Your hands wander up his arms, going up to his shoulders and digging softly your nails, “Y-you can move,” you say in a plea and he didn’t need further instructions to start moving his hips at a slow pace, although it didn't last long.

The sticky sounds and skin crashing filling your ears as his dick goes in and out of your pussy at a speed your mind couldn't handle. He leans back to take a better look of you, his ego boosting at the way you’re under him letting out loud sounds. The moonlight seep throught the window, bathing his toned body, making the sweat on his skin almost shine as you look at him as if he was a god to worship. His hair falls over his forehead and eyes, which are still staring deep into yours when you arch your back by the new position. “C-chris- daddy? Fuckfuckfuck,” you mutter under your breath while he brings his right hand to you, putting his index and middle finger in your mouth, “Suck. I know you like to play with your mouth,” he commands to let a guttural sound out of his throat when your warm tongue embraces them and you start sucking.

He hums in satisfaction before taking his fingers out of your mouth and running them over your skin to your neck, leaving a trail of drool that makes you gasp at the sensation. Chris leans towards you again, his lips brushing yours, as he grips on your neck thightly, “Your little pussy needed my cock that bad?” he groans breathlessy, almost sounding like a growl, picking up his pace and starting hitting your sweet spot directly, that's where you can swear he's eyeing at you like you're his prey.

His breath hits your face while he bites his lip and you try to let out a word but he’s feral while his tip bullies your sensitive spot, so only moans come out of your lips that are getting louder and louder. Your grip on his shoulders begins to shake as you dig your nails harder into him and he brings the hand on your waist to your lower stomach, gently pressing down and making sure you feel everything as you squirm more under him. “You like that, mmh?” he groans again and you begin to feel how the overstimulation of sensations gathers in you, legs beginning to tremble, lips already open and walls that squeeze him with more force, you’re so close. Chris seems to feel it and picks up the pace again, bringing his face to the crook of your neck to start licking the hot sweaty skin, “Daddy, I- gonna c-” you try to say but he cuts you off with a soft “Cum, yeah? Cum on daddy’s cock, baby, I know you can- That’s it, good job. Good job, princess” he praises in a sweet tone as you reach the edge with the last loud moan, closing your eyes tightly and releasing your nails from his shoulders to let your arms fall to the mattress while gasping slightly.

Chris's grip on your neck loosens as he continues to crash on your body, quickly reaching his orgasm as well with a guttural moan. For a few seconds, everything else disappeared, and all that existed were you two and the feeling of the world exploding around you.

Then, slowly, reality began to creep back in, and with his tremblous touch he takes your legs off his shoulders to gently place them on the mattress before collapsing on top of you, burying further his face in your neck and wrapping his arms around you. The room was almost silent, save the soft noise of your breathings mixing together. It isn’t until Chris speaks that you could notice the faint sound of the cars and the traffic from the streets outside the building.

“Have I been too hard?” he mutters against your skin, his voice a little winded as both of you try to get yours heartbeats back under control. Your hands move to the back of his head, slowly stroking his hair as your bodies sank in sweat and heat that slowly ceased to exist, “Mh, no, everything was fine, Chris”, you assure with a tired smile, your own voice breathy and soft. He slowly moves from you just enough to raise his upper body and look at you, his chin gently resting on your chest as he does. Chan’s eyes run over your eyes, from your messy hair to your rosy cheeks and your shoulders where he can see the marks from his bites.

He moves one of his hands to push his hair back as his lips pull into a lazy smile before he separates himself from you, getting up from your bed to look for his boxers and put them on quickly, “Don’t move, I’m gonna clean you up… The towels are in the bathroom, right?” you nod while you watch him move in the dark towards the bathroom and return with a small towel in his hands. He picks up your panties from the floor before getting on the bed and start gently cleaning you, “You treat me like a baby,” you murmur to him between giggles as he puts your underwear back on and throws away the towel, looking at you with a smile before lying down next to you and covering both with the sheets, “That’s because I like babying you”.

Chan’s now lying on one side, his head resting on one of his forearms and the other hand absently drawing patterns on your bare belly as you lie on your back, “I’m sleepy” you complain as you move sligthy to lie on your side and face Chris. He moves closer to you, moving one arm under your neck to put you closer to him, pressing your chests while nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck. His right arm envelops your waist tight as a small yawn leaves his lips and he lets out a sigh, “Mmmh, I could get used to this,” he muses with a sleepy voice before leaving a small kiss on your head, and you feel how a wave of reality hits you, hard.

His words make your stomach stir, the realitzation of what has just happened between the two of you being too big to be real. You swallow with some difficulty and you close your eyes, suddenly too aware of his touch, his body around yours as he continues to run his hand affectionately up and down your back while your heart aches at his words; not because you didn’t feel the same, but because he loved you and you were going to break his. You can't help but feel guilty after everything that has happened; yet you can’t stop yourself from snuggling closer into his chest, as if hoping that by doing so you could bury it all to the back of your mind. Chan's hand moves to gently card through your hair, "You know I love you, right?" he mutters against your head, still in an almost sleepy tone, "I've been in love with you forever" he whispers as his lips nuzzle into the crown of your hair while his other arm hugs you tighter to his body, as if he also didn't want to let go.

You bite your lower lip hard and try to be as strong as possible so as not to start crying right there, in his arms, "I know... I've always been in love with you too." your voice is sincere, feelings transparent like a mountain river that has not yet been contaminated but still trembles a little. “Good... Because I’m not planning to give you up,” Chris murmurs, and even if you can’t see his face, you can feel the soft smile through the tone of his voice, still with his head burrowed on your hair. It’s impossible not to feel guilty and undeserving when he cuddles you so affectionately and whispers so lovingly into your hair.

In a short time, you began to feel Chan's soft breathing in your hair, indicating that he had fallen asleep and had left you alone with your internal storm, likewise, it did not take you that long to follow him and fall asleep in his arms, with your body heat.

The faint ray of light coming through the window together with the snoring of the body by your side woke you up, feeling groggy and slightly cold. You opened your eyes, finding yourself glued to Chris’ back, your nose burying in the back of his nape and your hand on his belly. He was like a little furnace that still irradiated heat while being sound asleep, and you could feel the muscles in his abdomen move when he breathed heavily; even under your hand. You carefully left his side, getting out of bed to open the closet and grab the first pajamas you found, feeling how your body gradually began to warm up in the cold morning.

You made your way to the bathroom to remove your completely ruined makeup and wash your face, noticing the marks on your neck and shoulders that had been completely ignored by you at night. You left there starting to feel disappointed again and totally guilty of yourself as you went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast, your head felt like it was going to explode, your heart hurt like never before, and you couldn't walk very well. While the coffee maker fills your cup, with your head in your hands while your elbows are on the counter staring at the cup, you feel Chris’ arms around your waist from behind, burrying his face in your neck, murmuring a groggy “G’morning,” voice thick from sleep, to which you reply with a soft, "Morning".

His embrace around your waist is warm and comfortable, but you can't help but tense against him. In his still foggy mind, he doesn't seem to notice that something is wrong, "You smell nice," he mutters in your ear, before leaving a sleepy kiss on the crook of your neck, and that action only made you feel worse, as if the world was crushing you. Chan leaves another small kiss behind your ear before asking, "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, yes, everything’s good, Chris, and you?" you say quickly, stopping the coffee maker to remove your cup and separate yourself from him. You sat on one of the chairs at the dining room table with your cup, completely ignoring the look of confusion that was beginning to form on his face, resting your elbows on the table again to put your head in your hands, "Make yourself a coffee if you want".

Chan walks over to the coffee machine and starts preparing himself a cup, but you can feel his gaze on you from time to time; even if you keep ignoring him. He then goes and sits across from you, in complete silence, his eyes studying the way you were avoiding his gaze to the point of not even looking at him, and then you can hear him take a deep breath before asking, “Is this the part where you tell me 'What happened yesterday shouldn't have happened and that it was a mistake’?”

Your heart clenches at how low and hurt his voice sounds, as if he’s already prepared for the worst, and it makes you feel more than terrible but unable to explain to him at the same time. You can’t see his face, but you’re sure his eyes are beginning to look at you with that dejected expression and it makes it very hard for you to hold your own facade even a second longer, “I… I can’t do this, I’m sorry. I told you I would regret it in the morning, and I am. I've been doing it since after we went to bed”.

The silence that follows your words feels like an eternal torture in which you can’t help but think of what Chris’ feeling, what he thinks of you. After a long minute, he finally speaks, and you can hear in his voice that he is holding back every emotion that runs through him to say something more, “You know… You were the one that took the first step last night. If you told me you would regret it after it, why... Why did you do it?,” but before you can answer, he continues, a dissappointed tone in his voice, "I know you think you’re not enough for me… But this is going too far, don’t you think? I’ve been chasing you for forever and when I finally get you, you do this to me? I- I just don’t understand you!" your stomach twists hearing the way his words start to crack at the end as he speaks, the frustration he feels towards you seeping through every syllable.

Chan stands up in a rush, almost knocking over his chair in the process, running one of his hands through his hair as he walks with short quick steps around the kitchen while the other rests on his hip, “God… I don’t even know what I expected after I saw you avoiding me the first thing,” he mutters, and you’re sure it wasn’t for you to hear, but you did anyway and it makes you feel like you’re shattering, and then he stops in front of you, “Look at me.” You know you have to face the consequences of your own actions, so you slowly raise your head, meeting his eyes for the first time since you woke up. His facial expression was a mixture of frustration and hopelessness, with a gaze you’ve never seen in him before. He takes a few seconds to just look at you as if trying to get some answer to the dozens of questions circling in his mind right now, and then he speaks again, “Why, after everything that happened last night… why are you pushing me away like this? Is it that hard to accept that I love you?” his question makes your heart drop to the pit of your stomach because it’s hard, excruciatingly hard to accept that the guy in front of you is hopelessly in love with you.

His words make you bite your lip to hold back a wave of tears as you finally let out a trembolous sigh, “I want to hear it from your own mouth. Why?” he murmurs with a stern but pained tone. You’ve never hated yourself as much as you do in this moment, seeing his beautiful eyes pleading for an answer, a reason, a damn explanation. It feels like a nightmare, like a cruel punishment, and the only thing you can do is keep staring at him silently as he continues, frustration growing in his voice, “You were the one who initiated everything; the first to move, the first to open up and let me in, and now you’re pushing me back again because you’re insecure?-” “You don't understand anything!” you cut him off, raising your voice and feeling a big ball form in your throat.

“You don't know how much it hurts to constantly compare yourself with all the women next to you, knowing that each and every one of them is better than me in every aspect. I don't want you to be with me! Can it get into your head?” the words come out of your mouth so fast that you don't know if Chris’ understanding you, “I already know that you don't love others, I know that you think that I am enough but can't you understand that I don't see myself like that? I already know it's my problem. That I’m the problem but I can't help but think like that.” At this point you’re standing up, both of your coffees going cold as you look into each other's eyes, sharing a different pain but same intensity.

Chan stares at you with a mix of hurt and confusion, his heart breaking with every word that falls from your lips. He has seen your doubts and fears before, but he didn't think they ran this deep, "I… I don’t understand why you would think this way…" he stutters, his voice quivering, "I've told you countless times how much you mean to me-". “It’s not about what you say, Chris. You can tell me I’m the most important thing in the world every day and I would still believe that I’m not!” you snap, your voice rising again as frustration, guilt and pain bubble over inside you, “I don’t know how many times I have to say I’m not good enough for you to get it” you continue before looking away from him, “So please… Leave.”

Chris falls silent at your words, a pang went through his chest like a dagger, the air in his lungs ceasing to exist and his entire being felt as if it was imploding. Your words echoed loudly in his mind and his eyes widening slightly, "What?" he mutters in an almost disbelieving tone. You avoid his gaze, your mind and heart in turmoil. You know you’re making a mistake, pushing him away like this, but yet, the crippling fear and doubt gnaws at your insides, “Leave,” you beg, in a pleading whisper, still refusing to look at him, “Just go.”

Chan’s completely and utterly stunned as realization sinks in. His eyes widen even more, and his entire body tenses as if hit by electricity. You’ve never seen this expression before, and it makes your heart sink into your stomach. For several seconds, he stays frozen in place, with a completely bewildered expression on his face, his mind trying to process your words, to believe what you just said. And then, softly, he whispers, “Are you seriously asking me to leave?” his voice is so low that it’s a contrast to the loud beat of your own heart. Your stomach twists painfully hearing his pained, disbelieving tone. You know you’re hurting him. That you just made the biggest mistake of your life. Still, you can’t find it in yourself to take it all back and apologize, your fear and insecurity still making you believe that this is the best for him, best to keep him at a safe distance away from your mess. So, you keep looking away from him, fighting to keep your voice steady as you answer hoarsely, “Yes, I want you to leave.”

There’s another second of complete silence. Even your own breaths sound too loud in the quiet of the kitchen, and you swear you can hear the sound of your own heart breaking along with his. Then, his voice, still low, said, "Why are you doing this to me?” his voice sounds broken as he steps closer to you, “I’ve done everything I can to show you how I feel, to prove you wrong… and it's never enough, is it?" he stops right in front of you, but he doesn't try to touch you, just staring at the top of your head.

“I’m sorry, Chris, really.”

Chan keeps staring at you for several more seconds, the silence growing heavier with every moment passing. He closes his eyes and takes a deep, shuddering breath, and you can almost feel the turmoil of emotions in him; his heart bleeding with each passing beat, the pain of your words stabbing through him like a knife. After what feels like an eternity, he opens his eyes, and speaks again, his voice quivering, “Will you look at me?” you can hear the raw pain in his voice, the way it’s cracking, and it makes you want to run your fingers through his hair, hold him tight to your chest. But you don’t do any of those things. You raise your gaze slowly, almost unwillingly, and almost regret it the moment you look into his face, seeing his beautiful face twisted with an expression of pure suffering, his eyes glittering with restrained tears that break your heart even more, and you almost have to bite your tongue to hold back the tears rising in your own eyes as you see the way he’s looking at you.

He’s trying, with all his might, to keep it together. To hold back tears, to keep his own emotions inside him. But he can’t. He can’t stop the corners of his eyes from dampening, the way his bottom lip quivers, or the way his voice breaks when he speaks again,

“I love you. Please, don’t forget it...”

You saw in his eyes how he hesitated whether to kiss you or simply hold your face with his hands but he didn't do any of that. He looked at you, giving you the best smile he could give you at that moment before leaving you alone in the kitchen.

You heard him getting dressed in your room but everything was like a distant noise and muffled by the way you began to cry silently.

The sound of the front door closing was the trigger for you to start sobbing, realizing that you were now totally alone.

In your apartment and in your life.

[ivysprophecy]

bed chem

warnings; uhm sex lol? oral (male and femme recieving) very whorish thoughts, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it pls pls pls), brief mentions of bruising and hickeys, dirty talk. breeding kink if you squint

p. 1 | p. 3

word count; 2295

summary; jj and you have always been able to get along as long as it was in a nice comfy bed. what happens when you start to wonder if your chemistry goes beyond that?

divider by: @bernardsbendystraws

im being so for real when i say id let jj do just about anything he wanted to me.

and im not even being dramatic.

the second i can feel his lips make contact with that spot below my ear and his hands leaving finger prints on my hips, im a goner.

i dont necessarily know what it is about him specifically, and saying its our chemistry feels so icky to say but i dont know how else to describe it.

the way he hooks his thumbs through the belt loops on my shorts? like right now? yea im soaked already.

"mama you've been teasin me all night with that fucking idiot of a date- dont gotta do that baby you just gotta ask me for it."

"jj less talking more tongue."

"yes mama," he smirks up at me from his lap, his lips going back to my neck.

i have to interrupt him because i simply cant keep this shirt on my body. unfortunately i did have my cakes on so he just had to chuckle at them

"jj weve talked about this! they aren't funny!"

"baby theyre boob pancakes for your nipples its always gonna be hilarious."

" 'always' as if youre gonna see them again. how confident."

"sweetheart you say that every time. just let me give the girls some love and enjoy it, yea?" with that he starts peppering kisses all over my chest, his hands pawing at both of them.

"jesus-" the moans that come from my throat are honestly embarrassing but hes just too fucking good at this. he knows every sensitive inch on me.

its like he has me fucking memorized its insane. he feels insane.

and it doesnt help that he loves eye contact. i hate admitting that it flusters me, i dont want him knowing it takes everything in me to keep half of my dignity when he has me like this.

my fingers find the buckle of his belt doing my best to blindly work it off of his waist desperate to get whats under his pants.

im not ashamed to admit that.

"someones eager tonight," he pulls off of my chest with a noisy pop sound, smiling that signature cocky grin that i love to hate. "you gonna tell me what you want?"

i push him back onto the bed so i have easier access to his belt, more so his dick if im being honest.

"i want you to stop talking so i can get your pants off. why dont you work on that shirt for me baby?"

"well since you asked so sweetly," he chuckles throwing off his cut off while helping you get rid of his shorts. "only if you put your shorts on the floor next to mine."

"thats such a weird fucking thing to say jj what the fuck?"

"what? i thought thatd be cute."

"youre so freaking weird," you roll your eyes sliding off your shorts throwing them in whatever direction. they land next to his

jj sits there, head against the pillows watching me. i cant help but feel uneasy, im aware that i have no reason to be uncomfortable and that hes seen me this way plenty of times before but theres something in his eyes that makes me feel like hes drinking in every inch of me and its a but unsettling,

"youre so pretty. cant get enough of ya. ever," he gestures for me to come closer with his fingers before snapping and pointing to his face, "park it pretty mama."

"jj-" i start to interrupt him but he refuses any rebuttal.

"uh uh. weve talked about this. youre gonna sit on my face and im gonna eat it as much as i please. cmon now dont be shy. it doesnt suit you."

blush eats away at your cheeks as you crawl forward closer to his face, gripping the headboard for stability.

"im not shy."

"then act like it baby. now let me taste you, wanna warm you up good for me," and with those last words his arms wrap around my hips and he pulls me down so my weight is on his face.

the second his lips make contact his tongue is READY to work, and let me be clear he knows where the clit is okay? Sucking, licking, even nipping he does it all so fucking good.

all while looking up at me as i use his face like a damn chair.

my hips are desperately trying match the pace of his tongue, i can feel his nose rubbing against my clit giving me the best kind of friction im looking for.

oh my god and when he moans into me?? im done. finished. totaled. i cannot stop the sounds im making.

my legs shake beside his head, and hes staring up at me so smug, so proud of himself like his ability to make me cum was ever in question.

"see? so good for me mama was that so hard?"

i cant even get the words out, still clutching onto the headboard catching my breath. "jj-"

"ive got you dont worry," he picks me up by my waist and twists us so hes now hovering over me. "ill make you feel so good i promise."

"jj- i-" i try to take a deep breath and gather my thoughts, none of them holy obviously. "just gimme a second-"

"awe, someone overstimulated? already?"

i close my eyes and take a deep breath, because yes i do get easily overstimulated. "dont be a dick-"

"i havent even pulled it out yet."

"oh yea? lets see what you've got to say when ive got you all up in my mouth huh? lets find out baby."

i move out from underneath him and lay my head off the edge of the bed, looking at him with an excited glimmer in my eyes and my tongue sticking out.

"holy shit-" i giggle watching jj practically fall off the bed to take his boxers off, fumbling to do so. "are you serious?"

"yea jayj im serious," i say through a few laughs. "now cmere. remember you dont gotta hold back. i can take it."

"oh my god- shit. mama you keep talking like that and im not gonna last."

"i dont wanna talk jj i want your cock in my mouth," and with those final words his boxers drop to the floor. and i can see how ready is, honestly it looks painful. and i wanna make him feel all better.

my hand finds his, pulling him closer to the beds edge. once his length is over my mouth i run my tongue down his shaft, taking him into my hand and pumping what i cant reach.

"you ready for me baby?"

jj doesnt answer, he grabs my hair and tugs my head down further having me open my mouth before stuffing me full.

i can hear the groan he lets out, its guttural. and hot as fuck.

my tongue slides along his length almost asking to pull him in deeper. but he keeps still for a moment, gathering himself so he can continue.

but i know my boy. hes not gonna wait much longer to be inside me and i have no plans on arguing about it.

after a minute his hips buck forward a bit. "you good mama?"

and of course i cant really respond with his dick in my mouth. so naturally i try to take him deeper, urging him to move his hips again.

his grip on my hair tightened as he buried himself as deep as he could and slowly pulling back out.

poor guy is torturing himself! i havent even done anything, and he knows he doesnt have to go this slow.

he keeps his rhythm slow and steady, and i can feel the anticipation in his muscles restricting himself so i give his thigh a quick tap letting him know to pull away.

"jj you okay? you can go faster."

he lets a groan fall from his already pouty lips, "mama i cant handle going faster. need to be in ya when i bust."

i cant help but chuckle at his admission.

"oh baby. shouldve just said somethin. how you want me?"

i love making his eyes roll to the back of is head. but not like that weird anime shit. you know what i mean?

jj jumps back onto the mattress, back against the headboard patting his lap. "you know i want the girls all up in my face sweetheart. cmon and give me a good ride."

"yes captain," did i always say that jokingly? of course. did he always take it seriously? absolutely.

i climb over his lap, letting my knees rest against the bed sheets.

"youre still on the pill mama? or you still like the idea of me puttin a baby in ya" he looks up at me with pleading eyes, praying i am because he knows that means ill let him in bare. so fucking pussy whipped. i love it.

"jj you wouldn't be in this bed with me if i wasnt, now are you clean?" i have to ignore the baby comment because yea i really really really do.

"if you really believed i wasnt you wouldve have just tried to suck out my soul."

he does technically have a point there. "cant think straight when youre just standing there you know that jj. cmon are you clean or not?"

"youre the only one for me sweetheart. hop on, please. im beggin ya. need you so bad mama its killin me."

"'s gonna be a tight fit. 'm already so swollen down there."

"jesus," his head falls to rest on my chest and its like he all of a sudden remembers i have tits. peppering kisses all over my chest before wrapping his mouth over my nipple as i line him up. "baby you dont even know what youre saying. what its doin to me. got me so worked up im not gonna last long."

"good thing too because neither am i."

letting my weight lower onto him we moan out in unison, grabbing the hairs at the nape of his neck i hold tight as i let the sting of his size settle.

i do adjust rather quickly, seeing as hes been inside me plenty times before.

rocking my hips to start slow, i press small kisses on his hair as his grip on my hips tightens. part of me hopes i have little finger tip bruises tomorrow. they always show through my swimsuits. jj cant get enough of them.

"shit baby i need more.. cmon you can take it. its alright im not goin no where. give it to me."

fuck does he know how to talk me through it.

i raise myself a little only to leave a small drop, increasing the pace with each bounce. because holy shit he just hits that spot every damn time. sometimes i legit wonder if his dick was made for me.

then i roll my eyes at how fucking whipped i sound.

"yeaaa thats it mama. you keep that up, just how ya like it," thats the last thing he says before his thumbs starts toying with my clit and his mouth is once against attached to one of my breasts.

jjs the only guy that ive ever told that i need something else when hes inside me. never once made me feel insecure or guilty about it. in fact, i kind think he loves that he gets to play with me more.

"holy shit- jay- jay im close... you there baby?"

i can feel him nod against me so i move faster, harder, whatever i can do to chase that high im so desperately close to. and i can tell hes close to, hes got a little twitch whenever hes almost there and it feel soooo fucking good. takes me right over the edge.

"yeaaa gorgeous thats it. want me to fill you up? want me to make you my real mama?"

my head buries itself in his neck, covering it in small kisses to muffle my moans as i finish all over him.

and he's not close behind, thrusting up to meet me as i ride out mine, finishing just moments after me and i can feel him covering my insides.

and dammit if i dont wanna feel this way forever.

"so fucking good mama. made just for me i swear..." he mumbles against my chest leaving little hickeys as he catches his breath.

after a minute of just holding onto each other he slowly lowers me to the bed knowing that my legs feel like jelly.

he presses a kiss to my cheek before headed to the bathroom and grabbing us a wet washcloth. he rubs it over my thighs and my stomach and neck before cleaning me up carefully, knowing it helps me cool off afterwards.

"thank you jayj... always so sweet."

"shucks mama dont worry about it, you know ill always take care of you."

after cleaning the both of us up he grabs his muscle tank he was wearing before handing it to me so i can have some coverage while i sleep.

"want me to go out on the couch?" he wondered. always so thoughtful.

"dont be stupid. climb on in big boy."

his stupid sleepy smile is so freakin cute, i hate it.

"night jj."

"night sweetheart. love ya."

i know he says it every time. every night in fact. so why when he tells me that does it put a pit in my stomach?

and just like that, with his arms around me, hes peacefully asleep and im wide awake wondering what the fuck im doing.

[mypillowpaper]

🡻VENT

Hello, this is going to be a rather sad kind of message, the first time I have to talk about a client with such a bitter perspective for me.

Clients are always a reason to celebrate, with many I have developed super long conversations, others have seen me grow on social networks and I have seen them get married, have children or change their lives little by little just like me.

In my community I am always happy to have good experiences with my clients, because even the few times I have not agreed with something, everything has been able to be discussed and come to a good end.

I have been in contact with all kinds of personalities and moods, both my own and those of others, for a long time and I know how to work with that.

Today was not like that. Today I had to deal with something completely different

I had to talk to a person with whom I had accepted a commission 2 years ago, and the last contact or response I had was in March 2023 -1 year and 7 months-

As we are all strangers on the internet and life can sometimes be very fucked up, I clearly did not make any claim and celebrated they return.

Fortunately I saved they files, and I say this because many artists after a certain period of time close them, send them to avoid legal problems or exactly what just happened to me.

I never added such clauses because i have had 2 cases like that and nothing bad has happened (although never for so long)

But with today I think it was quite naive on my part, because this person began to ask me for changes on a work that had been left with the base coloring, and the lineart already finished.

I agreed to change simple things but I also warned that I was not going to accept more changes that had to do with the pose. Not only because of all the time it took (you can change your tastes, and if you liked something before, and now you don't) but it is unfair to me, to my time and my current pending work.

So I limited the changes to the color section, no different from when other clients ask me for changes once the lineart is finished and accepted.

The person first accepted, then deleted the message and asked me for a refund for the commission, since they was not satisfied with my service .

The truth is that I was quite broken down. Because I had never had or experienced those emotions linked to a client.For me it is something incompatible.

But clearly I am not going to do it, my TOS are clear with the no refunds and the situation is clearly cynical, I have plenty of reasons and explanations as to why, but i dont have the objective of humiliating anyone or generate hatred.

That's why I'm not giving names, I'm not giving pictures or anything. I just want to vent because I feel completely discouraged, because I didn't expect a right hook like that. And it's a bittersweet feeling, and finally I hit the wall after 7 years of work.

It's very easy to show up after almost 2 years and ask for a refund when the work is almost finished, and claim that you're not happy with the results.

But being nice doesn't mean I'm going to allow something like that.

So I'm going to rewrite my TOS to make the same clause as my colleagues, and I'm going to keep this low key and private.

My colleagues will know about name and screenshots, because it's important to be careful with these things. But for the rest, it's not fun for me to start any carnage.

I understand the misunderstanding, I can imagine what this person felt when I set a limit (most people don't like it, it's a bitter pill to swallow) but it's also necessary and it's true that during these 7 years, many people have responded well to it and have even given me excellent treatment or negotiated with me.

I have witnessed at least 200 responses much better than the one I had to read today, so I am able to know, perfectly, that nothing that happened was fair. And that it could have gone better if they hadn't demanded things that way, and in a situation where their actions were not supported.

I know this is different, but my head is now like a pressure cooker, and I needed to let it out, to let it go.

Thank you all, for having accustomed me to such nice treatment, that although today I felt naive, I also felt very lucky to have you to have a bar with which to measure correctly.

A huge hug, from your favorite Pillow.

[stevethehairington]

i keep seeing people saying that they killed izzy for shock value a la game of thrones and i just— not every character death is there for shock value?? just because you don't expect it doesn't mean it's specific purpose is to garner shock value.

izzy very clearly represented piracy. he was steadfast and staunch in his ways and he held onto the traditions of piracy with a TIGHT fist throughout the first season and the start of the second. not to mention, s2 was ALWAYS leading to this theme of "the end of piracy". the clues were there the whole season!!! and by that logic, if izzy = piracy, then end of piracy = end of izzy.

im not happy about his death!! im disappointed hes gone!! i loved him, he was probably my favorite character this season!! BUT i do understand why djenks did it. and it was NOT a "for shock value" kind of thing.

some people are reeeeal quick to like get super defensive and jump onto this "omg it was for shock value! there was no other purpose! what bad writing! what a bad writer!" bandwagon when things they don't personally like or agree with happen on their favorite shows, but honestly not everything you don't like is "bad writing" or "just there for shock value" or "purposeless". maybe take a couple minutes to think critically about it and to like analyze the choice within the frame of the whole season and the whole show and its themes before making those kinds of (oftentimes baseless) accusations?

it's one thing to be upset with something that happened and to not like it, and it's another thing entirely to then blame it on bad writing or a clueless, vicious writer who doesn't care about their characters or their story or their audience.

[yooniesim]

Girl... I aint reading all that

[nocherryblood]

May I add: living with chronic anything.

Sometimes people with chronic conditions do everything they can to avoid making symptoms worse, or to manage their existing pain. Creams, meds, long medical treatments, etc. Sometimes it's long and monotonous, and people are still in pain afterwards. Sometimes it's more manageable.

Sometimes, people with chronic conditions might not want to do that. Sometimes they just want to carry on as they are. Maybe it's health risks, or monetary reasons, or it's just not worth it. Sometimes people just don't want to do it, full stop.

Chronic conditions are chronic for one reason: even if they come and go in bouts, even if they're "not that bad"... they don't go away. Sometimes they remain forever, sometimes they may go away. But either way, you will have them for a significant portion of time.

Some people have cures and medicine that helps them to live as uninterrupted as possible, some don't- whether it's access to funds to get it, or because there literally just isn't something like that out there in the world, or maybe it's too risky. Sometimes you can be cured of one thing and it causes another, or it can come back, or, even if your main symptoms are gone, you may be left permanently affected by what the condition did to your body.

Some people have low pain or needs- this doesn't mean they're "overreacting" or "being too dramatic". Pain, even on a low scale, can be absolutely debilitating over a prolonged period of time. Sometimes, medical specialists can get very temperamental over this- personally, my conditions always get missed on 95% tests even if the markers to indicate I have them are there, so the specialists are very reluctant to give me help at first because they don't understand how much my pain affects my life until I prove to them that that help supports me to try to carry on as best as possible. This meme pretty much sums it up (for those who are confused, π, or, pi, is a number that never ends- the calculation for it has been going on for hundreds upon hundreds of years and we're still nowhere near the end seemingly):

On the other hand, some people experience extremely high pain levels and/or are severely affected by their chronic conditions, so much so that it limits them from doing a majority, if not all, of their daily life activities. Some can manage with a carer or assistant, some cannot. That doesn't make them "useless" or "unworthy" or "lazy". They are valuable as all humans are to each other, no matter whether or not they can work "like everyone else" to fulfill that cruel, uncaring, devaluing shitshow of modern expectations of an adult or not. Human decency and care for each other shouldn't ever be associated in the slightest with output or ability.

Sometimes, people's conditions are "intrusive" and/or affect other people's lives (e.g. family becoming carers or assistants, needing more support, being unable to control impulses or body functions) and whilst, yes, sometimes they can take effort to deal with by people on the outside, the person themselves is not incontrol of their condition and complaining 24/7 about it to them will just make them feel like crap. Contrary to popular belief, many people with chronic conditions are actually extremely aware of the effect of their condition on themselves and especially others, and are constantly overcompensating for it and putting so much effort into dampening it down just to make it more "palatable" for others. You don't need to tell them what they already know- if something's really affecting you, maybe come up with a realistic way to help before you ream off about how much something they're having to deal with is annoying you.

Please, don't expect someone to move mountains if you're not going to give them the rope.

And the final point I'm going to make is... please, for the love of your own compassion, sometimes there are people who are tired of having to constantly have to avoid triggers or irritants (e.g. with skin conditions), and want to allow themselves some semblance of being able to live like fully non-chronically affected (i.e. not living with a chronic condition) people for a while.

Concern is a lovely thing to have, but sometimes, people just want to have a bit of a break, y'know? I understand if there's concern about someone continually, severely harming themselves with their actions (i.e. eating an allergen they're highly allergic to, or something that could seriously harm them long-term)- of course, speak to them or try to empathise with them and then bring up your concerns, or come up with something alternative for them.

But if it's a short-term thing? Just let me have this one thing, please- my mental health needs it too. Don't judge me for wanting to have one long night out even if I'm chronically exhausted or easily get overwhelmed. Don't judge me if I have chronic skin conditions but want to have one nice perfume or pretty bath even though I'll be barely able to tolerate clothes in the morning. Don't tell someone they're dumb because they want to take a walk even if they may not be able to keep moving for long. I, and they, can regulate ourselves- we know the risk vs. the reward and sometimes you just want to do "normal" things for once.

Just... please. We're not defined by our conditions, but it doesn't mean we're not constantly affected by them too. They're a part of us, they're not always a welcome part of us, but they're there and we have to deal with them. Just please don't forget: just because we seem happy or fine, doesn't mean we can't be in pain.

when u go to write a mentally ill person in ur story you are presented two options. the first option is to write your mental illness realistically as you actually experience it with all the ups and downs and people who are like you will resonate with it and feel seen. except every person who reads instagram infographics on mental health that uses the phrase narcicisst for anyone who does anything that crosses them and unironically call themself a dark empath will call you scary and tell you that youre demonizing mentally ill people

the second option is to lie and write inspiration porn for those people to get hard to

[tittysuckersworld]

vent tw, if you have depression please please just dont interact-

[dorkszn]

“Why are you trying a pink string around my arm?”

“First of all, it’s a ribbon. Second of all, s’for the video, Lo, just sit still,” you retort as you tie the light pink ribbon around Logan’s bicep, turning it into a nice little bow around the muscle.

“I told you I don’t wanna do any of your little TokTik’s or whatever,” Logan grumbles as he looks down at the bow with a small scowl.

“It’s TikTok, Lo,” you correct him again. “Will you stop being such an old man? It’s gonna take like five seconds and you won’t even have to do anything really,” you say as you set your camera up.

“Watch yourself, brat,” Logan says with a small glare in your direction. He glances at the camera that was focused on his arm. “What do I have to do?” He asks reluctantly.

You roll your eyes at his warning. “When I start the video, you just gotta flex your arm, okay? Dont gotta do anything else. Simple as that,” you tell Logan, preparing to start the video.

“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” Logan sighs. You nod and press for the video to play. Logan just watches you. You watch him, waiting.

“Logan, do it,” you say, holding yourself back from face palming.

“Oh,”

Logan curls his arm up, the muscles barely flexed before the ribbon strains and snaps, falling off of his bicep. The video cuts. Logan glances between the bow and your expression. You look at him with your bottom lip caught between your teeth and a stupid grin on your face.

“You happy now, Bub?” Logan questions, unbothered by your expression.

“Very,” you answer as you wrap your arms around Logan’s bicep and press a kiss to his cheek.

[landoughnut]

Nurse He's Out Again

♡ masterlist - request!

♡ pairing - lando norris x fem!reader (fc - brooke shields :)

♡ summary - just lando thirsting on the main and giving being a pr nightmare, also him fighting for his life in the comments

♡ warnings - horny/simp lando, crack, some fluff, some cursing, one kms mention

♡ w/c & a/n - smau | wanted to do a social media one cause i love reading them so much so here we are! i really love this actually so i hope you enjoy xoxo

landonorris FIRST liked by yourusername

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[sukunasweetheart]

<the butterfly perched upon you>

slice of lifey vibes with trueform sukuna! youre like a servant-turned-girlfriend to him and dont mind me making it the clumsy girl trope sorry... lots of falling over and making a fool of yourself oops- mostly lighthearted, eventual romance, fluffy, very minor/implied smut. mentions of cannibalism, murder.

the warning of ooc sukuna goes without saying <3 hope u enjoy nonetheless <3

dividers by @/saradika, @/firefly-graphics and @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more

word count; 8.1k

how can someone be this useless?

its not uncommon that you trip over your own feet. the food you try to make always ends up charred and inedible. and anything that wounds up in your hands seem to either break or get misshapen. seriously, uraume considers you an eyesore.

very much like a stressed mother in law, they try to whip you up into shape to best please lord sukuna, but you can't do a thing right. goodness gracious.

there are only a handful of servants here at the lord's estate, mainly due to how he dislikes crowds and has a low tolerance for people in general, and will only accept a few for maintenance of his abode only. and yet, an awfully incapable and bumbling girl like you finds yourself at such a place. uraume wouldn't be surprised if lord sukuna lopped your head off one day, if he managed to catch sight of your silly mistakes.

the servants have very minimal contact with the lord. he's often out tormenting whomever challenges him on the battlefield, and even when he's home, none of you are brave enough to be loitering about in areas where he's currently present. uraume is the only one who usually speaks with him directly.

today, you've been reluctantly given the job of wiping down the floorboards of the engawa before the courtyard. you quite like this, because it's nice and sunny outside, and so you'll get to admire the butterflies while you work.

theres a pretty little pond with koi fish here as well, and you've been permitted to feed them some vegetable and seafood scraps, so you'll be doing that afterwards.

you've run up and down against the wooden flooring a couple of times with a rag, and soon enough, you get catch eye of a bright blue butterfly that flutters around the garden. you stand on the edge of the engawa, absorbed with the view. it's not everyday that you get to be here, after all. allegedly, this is lord sukuna's favourite spot to lounge about when he's home.

you get so distracted that you don't notice the intimidating presence behind you, even though he's a man whose aura bleeds all over the place, wherever he may be. sukuna looms over you and is silent as he ponders taking your head for annoying him by standing about in front of him like an airhead with an incredibly lacking sense of survival.

no, he shouldn't. he'd get more annoyed if your blood spilled over the floorboards, and he'd have to wait until the stench of your blood flees the area. however, before he can say a word of 'get lost', you manage to notice the shadow of the figure behind you.

you turn around and see him close up for the first time. a strange noise escapes your throat. you get so startled, your feet loses its balance, and you go backwards off the edge of the engawa. the dirty rag is thrown up in the air in a frenzy by accident as you try not to fall over.

thud! you're on your back on the garden floor. making haste, you frantically get into the position you were taught to get into by uraume, if you ever happened to come across lord sukuna by any chance. you kneel and lower your head until your forehead hits the ground.

and with such nice comedic timing, the dirty rag you'd thrown into the air falls directly onto the back of your head. you shut your eyes tightly and bite your lip in sheer embarrassment. you then realise that your humiliation is not what's really important right now. you might lose your life here.

perhaps you should apologise? are you even allowed to speak to him? what would you be apologising for, anyway? for breathing in the same direction as him? for not noticing him right away?

when uraume runs into the scene, what they witness is rather... unique. the useless servant girl on her knees and with a dirty rag on her head, trembling frantically. and lord sukuna, who seems to be viewing her with what seems to be mild amusement, and not annoyance.

"sukuna-sama... i apologise for any tardiness displayed by the servant. i didn't realise you would be coming here as soon as you came back."

usually, he enjoys a full meal before going out to the courtyard.

amongst your frantic thoughts, you almost tear up at the sound of that familiar voice. uraume-san! can they save you? i mean, sure, they only care about lord sukuna and him only, but surely they wouldn't want your blood to taint this perfect courtyard, right? especially when it's his favourite view!

"we shall accept any form of punishment you see fit for us."

we!? who's we?! you internally sob.

"it's fine."

a deeper voice responds. it's the first thing he's said since you noticed him.

"you can take her away. i'm going to stay here a while."

you hear the large man sit himself down.

"you. stand up and head back to your quarters."

you get up as quickly as you went down. the rag drops to the floor and you have to bend down to pick it up again with speed. you bow deeply again before following uraume out of the area. you can finally breathe again.

"consider yourself lucky. it seems sukuna-sama is in a pleasant mood today."

you later get scolded by uraume after you tearfully explained how you managed to get dirt all over your back and ended up with rag over your head.

meanwhile back in the courtyard, sukuna replays that scene of you in his head--of you turning around with eyes as wide as saucepans, something about you left an impression on him, and its not just because of way you made an absolute fool of yourself.

later, he comments to uraume about how you seemed a little different than the usual ones they pick to have as servants.

"shall i get rid of her? servants can always be replaced if you desire it, sukuna-sama."

"no, leave her. i was only curious."

uraume is left a little stunned. curious? over a mere servant girl? they are in no place to judge, but goodness, it's a rare thing for lord sukuna to be curious about somebody.

uraume has absolutely no qualms of disposing a person if they end up being no use to the lord. however, they never step out of line and act upon their own judgements alone. if there is someone who has piqued his interest, then uraume shall make sure that nothing interferes with their master's source of entertainment.

it's been a while again since you last saw lord sukuna. and you're quite thankful for it, after that humiliating first impression you gave him.

the days have been somewhat peaceful, with only the occasional grumbling from uraume, upset by your helplessness in preparing and cooking food, as usual. after multiple cuts and burns, they decided that you were not to come even a metre into the kitchen area.

that's fine by you, anyway. cleaning and sweeping while you hum your silly tunes is what you prefer.

night arrives with the moon hanging up brightly, like it always does. you think it's going to be another uneventful closure to the evening, but uraume soon appears at the servant's quarters, looking for you. they look a little uneasy. the very few other female servants whisper amongst themselves.

"sukuna-sama has requested for you. come with me."

oh...

you feeling like crying.

there is nothing that you can do. 'requested' so they may say, but everyone knows rejection means possible death. so you follow uraume outside.

walking with them in the corridor, every step feels like it's bringing you closer to disaster.

"uraume-san... what exactly is sukuna-sama requesting me for...?" you ask cautiously.

"i'm unaware know the details myself. but he's in the middle of a bath. perhaps there's a splatter of blood he can't reach on his back."

yes, but why has he chosen me out of all people?!

but you know better than to question such orders. your hands become clammy with sweat.

you reach the bath area too quickly for your liking, and uraume ushers you inside without further concern for your wellbeing. their only concern is hoping that you don't do anything to displease the lord.

lord sukuna sometimes has a tendency to act upon his own whims, but even uraume was surprised when he suddenly asked for the servant girl he met in the courtyard...

the warmth of the misty steam inside caresses your face gently and also makes your kimono stick to you uncomfortably... making you sweat even more.

lord sukuna is sitting in his oversized, wooden bathtub wordlessly, his back turned to you. splashes of crimson against his skin, just as uraume had said. you take a quiet, deep breath.

kneeling before him as per protocol, you bow your head, despite the floors being soggy with water.

"sukuna-sama. how may i assist you this evening?"

the eyes on the side of his distorted face dart down to look at you.

"it's fairly obvious, isn't it? wash the blood away."

"right away."

you stand up straight, and it was apparently too fast for your poor blood pressure, getting you dizzy momentarily. foolishly so, you still decide to take a few steps with haste on the wet, slippery floor. with a loud yelp, you slip and land on your bottom. you want to scream.

"i-i apologise..." you say tearfully, getting back up.

"...not a dull moment with you, as i figured." he uses a tone of mockery.

there's a hint of a chuckle in his voice, and you're only glad he's amused rather than annoyed at your stupidity. your backside hurts again. it hasn't even been that long since the bruises stopped hurting from the last time you fell over!

you grab a cloth to start scrubbing the man down, holding back your tears. the metallic scent is prominent, and your mind begins to wander about exactly whose blood you were currently wiping away into the bathwater. you try not to think about it too much.

it's not new information that lord sukuna kills mercilessly, and even feasts on humans should he feel like it. you've seen the types of "ingredients" uraume has used in the kitchen at times, and the blood that paints the bottom of the sink. these were all things you needed to get used to seeing and knowing as a servant at this estate.

you keep your face stern as you clean him down delicately, thoroughly. the damp, warm cloth runs along the muscles on his back, neck and shoulders. you squeeze out the blood and dip it back in clean water, before wiping again. he has a delightfully toned body, with many tattoos. and more muscles than you could ever count. you take note of the neck tattoos that resemble the lines on a butterfly's wings. it draws you in, but you have to make sure you don't get too distracted.

you notice there's some blood on his hand as well. you move towards it and clean it down, gentle in the way you go over each finger. you're holding hands with him inevitably as you have to lift it up, and this makes you realise how large this man is. your hand seems almost like a child's in comparison to his. there's something rather exhilarating, yet also terrifying about this size difference.

the hairs on the back of your head rise, for some reason. you notice how his big red eyes are boring into you from the edge of your vision. you feign ignorance and focus on cleaning.

time passes in haste as you finish wiping down the last spot of visible blood from the lord's body.

"all the blood has been cleaned away, sukuna-sama," you tell him.

"is that so?" he asks, looking down at his own body. "but there's a spot left over here," he objects, pointing to the side of his neck, vaguely.

"i- i'm sorry, i must have missed that area. i shall clean it immediately-"

you crane your neck to look towards where he was pointing, your face getting closer to his. the place he mentioned is clean. no blood in sight. you meet his eyes. his lips curl upwards, seemingly pleased.

"finally, you look this way," he says, capturing your gaze.

you freeze on the spot, face heating up.

"your... your neck seems clean... sukuna-sama," you respond quietly, unable to think of anything else to say.

"i was only teasing. was it not apparent?" he smirks at you, and you feel that your heart may burst any second now. from either fear or excitement. or both.

"pardon me. i should have noticed sooner," you say, moving your face away from his.

"...i digress. where's the fun in that? just remain gullible for me."

he flicks your forehead, making you whisper 'ouch!' under your breath.

"understood?"

"yes, my lord."

without further conversation, he stands up to his full height, the water droplets racing down against his skin. you hurriedly grab some towels for him... doing your best to avoid looking at his... ahem. when you hand over the towels, your eyes are shut tight. sukuna gives a deep chuckle.

"silly girl."

since the bath, lord sukuna has developed a tendency to call you over during unpredictable moments, and for unpredictable errands. then, he disappears again for a while. and merely moments before you get too comfortable without his presence around you, he returns to repeat it all over again.

recently, he's taken towards looking for you himself, rather than asking uraume about your whereabouts. it scares the other servants when he barges into their spaces, but he pays them little mind.

this afternoon, he finds you sweeping down the leaves away at the front of the estate, humming to your heart's content.

"i come to check what's making all that noisy ruckus... only to find out that it's you."

your whole body goes stiff at the voice, and you reflexively try to get on your knees, but he stops you.

"keep your head up," he commands you.

"your face is worth gazing at, after all," he adds, albeit under his breath.

the compliment doesn't even register into your head as you immediately stand back up, broom in hand. you thank him for the pardon.

"are you done with the sweeping, yet?" sukuna suddenly asks, looking around with his arms crossed. well-- one pair of them, at least.

"not yet, sukuna-sama. but only a little bit to go," you respond with honesty.

"come to my chambers with a plate of fruits and a knife with you, once you're done. don't take too long."

after that, he promptly takes his leave without further explanation. you stand still for a moment, as you always do. every interaction you have with him leaves you in a bit of a daze. often, you wonder if he's a part of your daydreams.

you shake your head and continue to sweep, silently, this time around. don't take too long, he had ordered.

after you're done with that, you make your way into the kitchen on your tiptoes. you wonder if uraume would believe you, if you were to tell them that you're entering upon sukuna's own request.

but once you make your appearance to the entrance of the kitchen, uraume is already there, ready with a tray with a plate of assorted fruits on it. and a knife sitting next to the plate. the sight of the sharp utensil makes you feel nervous, somewhat.

you take the tray without a word, and head towards the lord's chambers.

three sharp knocks.

"sukuna-sama. i've come with the items you sought for. may i come in?"

"you may."

you slide the door open, and sukuna is there, waiting on the tatami mat while holding a kiseru in his hand. once you enter, he sets it aside after one more puff.

"put it here," he points towards the empty space in front of him.

you place the tray down where he gestured towards, and then sit yourself in front of him. there's a moment of silence as you flicker your gaze from looking at him, to the fruit before you.

"well? what are you waiting for? prepare it for me."

oh, no. you had prayed with every ounce in your body, that he wouldn't request for such a thing, but of course it didn't work. now, you have to display your terrible cutting skills to the very head of this estate.

hands trembling, you reach out for the knife and pick up a peach from the plate. you make a cut towards the seed in the middle. then, you cut diagonally to get one slice out. sukuna opens up his hand, waiting for you to place it in the middle of his palm. you do so, and the piece looks so pathetically tiny that you almost feel ashamed.

"faster," he demands, with a small smile on his face.

you swallow thickly, and try to speed up your cutting. the pieces get more and more jagged and unsightly. but sukuna doesn't display any signs of anger or annoyance.

"such poor knife skills. no wonder uraume left you to do the cleaning only. is that really the best you can do?" he taunts you, laughing through his nose.

"i'm afraid so... i apologise for my lack of skills, sukuna-sama," you confess, trying not to make your lower lip wobble from the anxiety and dejection. did he bring you here just to mock the way you cut fruits?! your brows furrow in determination and you try harder.

after the peaches, you grab a persimmon. they're trickier to prepare, since you have to carefully peel the skin off them as well. you purse your lips.

things go somewhat smoothly at first, but then you start to slip up again. it's slippery, and the blade of the knife slices through your thumb.

"ah-" a small noise leaves your lips and you watch as a drop of your blood runs down your palm. sukuna matches your gaze and narrows his eyes at the same scene.

"such a helpless, troublesome woman."

he grabs your wrist and slowly brings your thumb to his mouth. your eyes widen, and you're speechless as you watch him run his tongue up the trail of your blood and then suck on the small incision on your thumb.

you're like a steaming kettle, with the way your blood rushes through your veins, temperature rising with how flustered you are. sukuna looks at you with your finger still in his mouth.

"su-sukuna-sama... you needn't do such a thing-"

a shiver runs down your spine when you feel his tongue swirl around your wound. he then releases it from his mouth, with a smirk, still holding onto your wrist.

you retract your hand suddenly, due to an indescribable feeling growing in the pit of your stomach. you then begin to fear that snatching your hand away like that might've offended him.

"my apologies, sukuna-sama! if you will excuse me-!"

you stand up and run, and he lets you scurry away, with the same sweet, arrogant grin on his face. down the hallway, he hears you trip over yourself before exiting. it makes him chuckle.

you're a fun way to pass time, when he's not slaughtering millions on the battlefield.

back in your own quarters, you lean yourself against a wall and pant, being out of breath. what had just happened? he... he licked the wound on your finger. and that did something to you. your insides feel all squirmy.

you look down at your thumb, only to realise that the cut has mysteriously disappeared.

after running away from sukuna abruptly like that, you had expected to uraume to chase you up and drag you to him, where you'd be executed for fleeing. but it never happens.

in fact, you haven't seen him again for a while. however this time around, his absence does nothing to keep you relaxed, as you're always on your toes, not knowing when he'd next make an appearance before you. you wonder what he will do to you next, when he does come back sooner or later.

before you can drown in those concerns of yours, uraume sends you outside to hang some laundry out in the sun. some white sheets, freshly washed. you struggle a bit, to carry the large bucket of sheets out to the yard.

the laundry line is a bit high, so you need to grab a small stool as well to successfully get the sheets over it. the wind is gentle, and the sunlight pours endlessly from the skies. truly a perfect day to dry the laundry outside.

the sheets are large, so you find it difficult to squeeze the moisture out by yourself, but you suppose they will eventually dry anyway, thanks to the nice weather. you smile as the cool breeze runs through you, making you feel pleasant.

from afar, sukuna observes this scenic view of you, surrounded by the pure white of the swaying sheets around you, smiling as the wind jostles your hair slightly and the sun accentuates your features rather beautifully.

he walks towards your light.

you're busy trying to hang another sheet on the second line this time. you wish the stool was a tad bit taller. this is rather challenging. even standing on top of it, you need to get on your tippy toes to reach properly. and it doesn't help that the water-weight makes the cloth heavier...

a large hand brushes aside the sheet that covers you from view, startling you. you nearly topple over, but a pair of strong arms catch you, keeping you standing upright.

"how ridiculous. don't you get tired of doing that every time?" he sighs. his second pair of arms are crossed, while the first pair hold you so warmly.

"i'm sorry..." you mumble, staring at him with wide eyes. it's like he appeared out of your thoughts. could this perhaps be a daydream of yours? he fixes your stance so that you can stand on the stool properly again. despite your height boost from this stool, sukuna is still a bit taller than you.

"it feels strange, having you meet me eye-to-eye like this..." sukuna comments, while staring down at you curiously.

and it does feel strange, being almost at his height. how close you feel to him now. maybe this offends him.

"i shall get down immediately," you tell him respectfully, trying to get off the stool. his arms come around again to keep you still.

"ack-!"

"tch. don't overreact. i didn't mean it that way," sukuna mutters, tutting at you.

you stand stiffly with your hands by your sides as he inspects you, anxious yet also excited to find out what his intentions are this time around. every touch he lands on you makes you skin jump, in an intoxicating way.

you focus your vision particularly on the odd looking side of his face. it looks like it has a strange texture. would it still be skin? you want to try and touch it. and... his extra eyes look cute. you gasp at yourself for having such disrespectful thoughts about him. all four of his eyes then focus on your face, as if to notice your gaze, and you feel as though your heart may leap out of your throat. there's a part of sukuna that makes you question whether he can read your mind or not.

"you're curious about this face of mine, are you?" he asks, while smiling.

your jaw hangs open in shock, and you don't know whether to tell him that he's correct or to apologise for your insolence.

"what a strange expression you're making," he chuckles, "so easy to read."

it's not that he can read minds, it's only because you're openly letting yourself known to him, whether you're aware of it or not. transparent, like a perfectly pristine and delicate glass cup. shall he leave his fingerprints on you? shall he leave some cracks in that fragile vessel of yours?

his hands come off your body, and you have to concentrate to keep your balance on the stool, no longer being able to rely on his hold to stand still.

"continue with your duties. i shall call for you later," sukuna states sternly, looking off at the sheets that still wave gently in the wind.

"you didn't squeeze out enough water. it's dripping," he points out the soaking wet ends of the sheets.

you practically jump off of the stool and get to work. in the meantime, the lord has disappeared again. you look into the distance to catch a glimpse of him if you can, but he's nowhere to be seen.

and he never got around to clarifying about what happened to his face. perhaps that's a clear sign to mean that he's not interested in talking about his past.

upon finishing the laundry in completion, you make your way to the kitchen, due to the time being close to serving the lord's evening meal.

the other servants and uraume included, are running around to prepare his dinner to perfection, as usual. for the most part, you're left with nothing to do at these times since none of them trust you with handling the food.

lord sukuna did say he was going to call for you later. you wonder if you'll be able to help bathe him again. or if this time, he'll make you do something different. you're plagued with such daydreams as the servants bustle about behind you.

by the time the busy period finalises, the moon hangs high up amongst the stars, and the darkness of night consumes all. and yet, he still hasn't requested for you at all. you suppose when he said he'd call for you later, he perhaps meant tomorrow or the day after. you never know with the lord. trying to navigate him is like trying to look through the murky depths of the ocean at night.

right when you were about to return to your quarters with everyone else, uraume suddenly approaches you.

"sukuna-sama wishes to see you. make your way to the courtyard now."

your stomach starts stirring once again.

the courtyard is beautiful, even at night. sukuna sits in the now moonlit area, drinking from a sake cup in a languid manner.

it takes courage to speak up behind him.

"did you wish to see me, my lord?"

sukuna turns slightly to the side to look at you, before facing the front again.

"...come. pour me another glass, will you?"

"certainly."

as you pour him more of the crystal clear wine, you have to stay vigilant in order to not accidentally splash any of the expensive liquid outside of the cup from your shaky hands.

tonight, the lord's gaze rests not on you, but on the moon above. you watch along with him. there is nothing but silence in the first few moments you have with him together.

"the moon is beautiful tonight," he finally says, while taking another sip of his sake.

is it normal for one to be envious of the moon? even so, thanks to the moon, you are able to see him bathed in its light, making him look almost ethereal.

"yes it is, sukuna-sama," you agree with him.

there's another momentary silence between the two of you, before you bring up a sudden question.

"...do you enjoy watching the moon often?"

"not often, but at times. it would get boring if i did it everyday."

like almost everything else in life.

"i see. that is most understandable."

the chirping of crickets is audible within the garden, and you pour him another glass of his sake after he finishes his previous cup.

you look up at the black canvas of a sky, littered with specks of white all across it. it's easy to get lost in the sight. and much more comfortable than looking at something like the sun, which could burn the delicate areas of your eyes. you begin to get immersed in the view, and your previous train of thoughts ebb away.

you don't notice the way sukuna has stopped gazing at the sky. he's watching you, instead.

"you must know by now... that i favour you more than the other servants," sukuna brings up carefully.

you stop staring up, and turn around slowly to blink at the man.

"...is- is that true, my lord?" you ask, wondering if he really means that. you don't want to get ahead of yourself.

his brows furrow. how dim-witted can you be?

"perhaps actions will speak better than words."

that phrase alone makes your heart feel like it could leap out of your throat.

"sit closer to me."

you swallow dryly, and shuffle closer to the larger man. he sets his cup down beside him, and brings you even closer to him. his hand holding your waist. sitting with him, hip to hip.

sukuna begins to lean his face down closer to yours. your hands grab your own kimono in tight fists, questioning the reality of this scene, feeling skittish yet also giddy, all at the same time.

"don't run away, this time. i won't allow it."

the way his breath ghosts over the skin of your face, how close his voice is to your ears, sends goosebumps all the way down to your legs. is he going to kiss you? can you handle that?

his lips reach yours, and the softness of them is unreal. this must be a dream. he tastes of the rice wine was sipping on before, and he's doused in the same moonlight as you are, and he's now kissing you. a mere servant.

your ears pound with your own heartbeat, and your hands grip onto your kimono so tightly that it's bound to leave wrinkles behind. they shake slightly. sukuna's large hand comes over one of them, and grabs your wrist delicately.

"relax", he's telling you.

and so, you share your first kiss with him, under the moonlight.

quite a bit of time has passed since that day.

you could say that nothing much has changed - you still have your duties as a servant, and the lord still leaves his home vacant for periods of time.

however, on days when he has returned...

you gently sway your legs that hang off the edge of the engawa, on the very same courtyard as that fateful night. sukuna lays his head on your lap, eyes closed and completely at rest, both sets of his arms relaxed as the breaths he takes are slow.

your hand is unable to stray far from the soft bed of his hair, fingers combing through the peach-coloured strands, nails raking against his scalp with the right amount of strength, the way he loves. he gives the occasional purr when you go over his favourite spots.

it's odd, when merely a few weeks ago, you had trouble initiating these harmless touches without explicitly asking for permission beforehand.

"sukuna-sama, may i touch your hair?"

"would it be alright if i could hold your hand, sukuna-sama?"

"may i press a kiss against your cheek, my lord?"

you giggle to yourself as you remember his response to your endless series of questions and requests.

"tch... quit asking me about every little thing. just do it. i'll let you know if i don't like it."

and from then on, you've been bravely placing your hands on him whenever you wanted. and he hasn't been displeased by you, as of yet.

you freely caress the side of his face that you would describe as... unique. you're always curious about the nature of it, even now. but you don't invasively ask questions. you wonder if you'll ever feel brave enough to, one day.

his larger eyes open up narrowly in an abrupt manner, and they squint at you. it makes you nervous, in the way that heart fluttering way. you never get used to the feeling of being under his intense gaze.

red, with ringed irises. you've started to enjoy this colour more ever since you started to meet his eyes more often. you stare back at him but, oh- he's closed them up again.

your hand continues to softly caress him.

sukuna remains mellow, not really falling asleep, but also not in a state of full alertness. your lap serves as a great pillow.

this continues, until suddenly your touches become slower and more distracted. and he can tell your attention has been divided to something else.

the dismayed lord cracks open one eye to check what might have served as a distraction to you.

a butterfly...?

your eyes follow the pretty blue creature, landing on the flora of the garden, in it's carefree nature. a small smile blooms on your face and your hand's movements dwindle, which should displease him. he could cleave the thing into little bits, and let its remains scatter the lush garden.

but, he doesn't. sukuna lets you indulge in these small moments of joy, simply because he's gotten rather softhearted. he doesn't enjoy seeing you get upset at him. though he has control over you as your lord, his hand can't extend all the way to your heart and mind.

(and may the world burst into flames if you ever end up disliking him.)

he recalls... you were also staring at a butterfly the day he first met you, weren't you? so distracted that you didn't notice his presence. he doesn't understand your affection for such a fragile creature.

but...he supposes that he's the same.

what came over him, that he wound up caring for a silly woman like you?

as if to reaffirm your concept of being 'silly', you suddenly give a small sneeze, facing away from the front. his head gets jostled in your lap, which makes him frown and sigh.

"my apologies, sukuna-sama... perhaps it was due to the pollen from the garden..." you give your excuse sheepishly.

well, no matter. he'll keep you with him for as long as he desires. perhaps he can use your butterfly-infatuation to his advantage.

not long after, once the sun dips over the horizon and the area becomes a little chilly, sukuna decides he wants to take a bath before the day comes to an end. and you'll be coming along, of course.

...by now, you've been with him in the bath area at least a dozen times before.

nevertheless, you never seem to get used to seeing him in his naked glory.

sukuna is sitting in his tub, and you're running a warm, wet cloth over his shoulders, scrubbing lazily. he was already quite clean enough today, in your opinion.

a feeling of deja vu hits when your gaze falls onto the tattoo on the back of his neck. you remember having such a thought before. though it's not the strongest resemblance, you see it regardless.

without much resistance, you give in to the desire, and bring your lips to the area to give him a small kiss. it takes him by slight surprise.

"the tattoo on your neck resembles the lines on a butterfly's wings, sukuna-sama. it looks elegant, and wonderful," you tell him.

...he is not displeased with that comparison, strangely enough.

"is that so? no wonder i've felt your stare on it multiple times before," sukuna responds.

you never realised that he'd caught onto that. were you always staring that prominently? you continue wiping him down with the warm cloth, feeling a bit shy all of a sudden.

sukuna thinks for a moment.

"how about you join me in here, tonight?" he asks, out of the blue.

"p-pardon?!"

"quit acting so timid. go on, get yourself cleaned. i'm waiting."

you feel your face heat up at the thought of being... naked with him. anxiousness starts running through your body. you wonder if he really means it, or if he's trying to fluster you again. your lack of action causes him to raise an eyebrow.

"what, you don't want to?"

"no, no! i do, my lord! i'm just... a bit taken aback."

you spring into action. heart pounding as you shed your clothes. he doesn't turn his head or peek at you from where he sits, but your eyes dart to him to check anyways. you clean and rinse yourself adequately, with shaky hands.

"shall i lend a hand in scrubbing your back?" sukuna suddenly calls out. there is sarcasm in his tone.

"that wouldn't be necessary, my lord... i can do it myself..." you respond bashfully.

you only pray that you don't slip over on the way to the tub.

when you do eventually finish up, you walk carefully towards him. walking past where he sits, you reach the other side of the tub. you avoid his eyes as you enter at a slow pace, arms making an effort to cover your breasts. you're finally seated in the same tub as him. the water is steaming, and it's quite deep. still, you hang on to the edge and keep yourself a little distanced from sukuna.

"aw come on. it was mere moments ago that you kissed the back of my neck. so shy all of a sudden?"

"that- that was a different situation, sukuna-sama..."

"the only difference now is that we're both nude," he shrugs.

"nevermind that...the water looks a little deep for you," he says, almost mockingly so- "come. i'll let you on my lap."

you cannot tell whether he is only teasing, or if he actually wants you on his lap.

"quickly- don't run my patience thin."

you make your way towards him without further hesitation.

sitting on his lap, you find that he's oddly comfortable. an arm of his loops around your waist, holding you tight against him, as if to prevent you from running away.

the lord takes your hand and caresses it between his thick fingers. your back leans against his bare chest and abs as you relax yourself more. you wonder if the mouth on his stomach doesn't feel uncomfortable when you sit against it like this.

sukuna's extra arms begin to get more and more handsy with you. you feel his large palms on your breasts, squeezing the flesh gently. not that you find it unpleasant, but it makes you feel all squirmy and restless and hot. when he touches your chest like that, you can't help but turn your head slightly to give him a needy look. it makes him lean down and kiss you warmly.

his tongue explores your mouth in a thorough manner, encouraging a growing heat inside of you. you start gripping his hand harder, though you doubt he feels a thing from it.

when lord sukuna kisses you, you can't tell whether time is passing too quickly, or too slowly. you lose the ability to think of anything else, other than his soft lips and his rough tongue. and you believe that he's aware of this fact himself. why else could he be smiling against your lips like he is right now?

you don't know how long you'd kissed him for in that bathtub. but by the time you stepped out of it, your hands were wrinkly from the prolonged moisture.

and you came out with... feelings of unsatisfaction. rather than getting a little further than kissing, sukuna had stopped abruptly and told you with a smirk that he was ready to get back to his chambers now.

upon getting dressed again, you linger awkwardly around the man, wanting more but not knowing how to inform him of it. the lord looks at you keenly.

"well? aren't you going back to your chambers?" he asks with a sly undertone.

"...i would like to escort you to your room... my lord," you tell him, averting his gaze.

"oh? i don't recall needing an escort, when my room's right around the corner. but if you insist." you can't see what kind of expression he's wearing right now, but you imagine he's smiling at you teasingly. like he always does.

you trail behind him as he walks over to his chambers.

for sure, it doesn't take long until he reaches his room. sukuna slides open the door and makes his way to his large futon in the middle of the tatami floor. he makes himself comfortable, and lays on his side while you watch him from outside his room.

"you're still here. well? are you planning on tucking me into bed next?" he asks with his usual mockery, chuckling through his nose.

you frown cutely, feeling a deep sense of unfairness in the pit of your stomach.

"i was just about to leave, sukuna-sama," you respond a bit haughtily, getting bold with him.

"is that so. then run along," he ushers you, following that with a big yawn. your frown gets deeper.

you begin to slowly close his door, but then stop when it's only cracked open slightly. you brace yourself for the request you are about to make.

"sukuna-sama... could i sleep beside you, tonight?" you ask meekly.

his lips curl up similarly to that of a cheshire cat. finally, you're getting honest with him. he loves the feeling of having you run about in the palm of his hand.

"i thought you said you were going to leave?"

"please...?" you muster your best puppy eyes.

the lord smirks again, and eventually beckons you in with his index finger. you perk up, and step into his room with excitement, running into his futon like a dog, tail wagging from the happiness of being with its owner.

"you're like a silly mutt. foolish, but cute. i like the way you beg for my affection."

you're not sure on how to feel about being compared to a mutt, but you suppose it's not the worst comparison in the world.

"woof," you say quietly, shuffling closer to him. he laughs deeply at you. from your tight embrace with him, you feel the vibrations from his chuckling against his chest.

...there's always something hot or warm about sukuna.

his whole presence feels like a roaring fire at times, burning with his strength and charisma - the flames and temperature threatening to scald anyone around him.

but,

right here, when you're in his arms, the fire becomes tame. still an unrelenting and strong flame, but something more controlled and comfortable to be around.

you close your eyes with a smile, satisfied with this outcome.

"oi. i don't recall saying you could sleep yet."

that makes your eyes bolt open with confusion. sukuna furrows his brows and grabs your face, squishing your cheeks together.

"you're in my futon, and all you can think about is sleeping? i don't know how to feel about that."

"oh... was there something else you wanted from me, sukuna-sama?"

he looks further displeased by your question and suddenly grabs both your wrists, pinning them above your head. you gasp, surprised by his sudden shift in mood.

"we should continue with where we left off, shouldn't we?"

another hand comes up to hold your neck gently for a moment, before he slides it down slowly to your chest, the warmth from his palm trailing with it, reaching your clothed breasts, making your head spin with arousal.

"were you not anticipating something like this? when you asked to stay the night beside me."

he leans down and presses his lips against the space just below your ear, making you shudder. he likes this reaction, and continues kissing down your neck.

"s-sukuna-sama..."

"what a lewd tone you're using with my name. i hope you're prepared for the consequences of that."

he overtakes your senses with another searing hot kiss. hands clawing away at your kimono. teasing touches to your chest. his flames are threatening to envelop you, producing yet another unique kind of heat.

but you've never welcomed anything else more in your life. you'd gladly burn to ashes if it means being so close to your lord, your light.

...it's safe to say that you woke up the next morning with more bruises and bite marks than the number of fingers you have on your hands. and the lord lays beside your exhausted frame, aimlessly curling a lock of your hair around his finger with a satisfied grin on his face.

during one quiet afternoon, uraume beckons you towards them.

"i've been ordered to dress you lavishly. come with me."

you follow them without question, wondering what the sudden occasion could be. lord sukuna has left for the battlefield once again, so he's been missing for a couple of days. is he due to come back this evening?

such hopes fill your mind.

you stand awkwardly as uraume fits a rather elegant and expensive, but beautiful looking kimono onto you. it feels odd. you could even say you feel a bit guilty; in what world would someone dress a servant so extravagantly? nonetheless, you accept the treatment with silence. you get lost in your own daydreams, while uraume prepares you for whatever's been arranged for you.

by the end of it all, they angle you to face the mirror properly, their hands placed on your shoulders.

"it's complete. feel free to take a look at yourself."

you turn your face to one side, and then the other, all while keeping your eyes on the mirror. you look... stunning.

"th-thank you..." you tell uraume, quite speechless.

"please withhold that gratitude for lord sukuna. he was the one that arranged for this, after all."

you're then told to wait at the courtyard, for the lord's return. tingles of excitement run through your veins, and reaches the tips of your fingers, at having your hopes confirmed. he's due to return tonight.

quite a bit of time passes. yet, no signs of him coming back yet. you swing your legs back and forth languidly over the engawa, looking up at the sky aimlessly. though you shouldn't be doing such a thing when you've been fitted with a lovely kimono, there's no one around to scold or stop you from your usual habits.

you sigh, wondering when he'll be back. your eyes wander around the garden, this time. under the moonlight, there's a singular butterfly that flutters about, appearing in good timing as if to help cure your boredom.

you step out onto the grass and approach it, lending out a finger towards it to see if it decides to land on your hand. it takes a bit of effort, but after some gentle movements and patience, it eventually stops to linger on your index finger for a while. it allows you to admire every ridge, and all the patterns on the wings in better detail. you wonder whether you'll ever get another opportunity to observe a butterfly so closely again in the future.

a few footsteps resound behind you, getting you startled. when your body moves slightly from the scare, the butterfly flees and seemingly disappears out of sight.

yet, right now, you have no room to feel disappointed by a mere butterfly.

sukuna is smirking at you from a distance, looking very pleased with the way you're dressed for him. he steps down and walks into the garden as well, approaching you languidly, one arm concealed under the sleeve of his kimono.

"welcome back, sukuna-sama. i've been awaiting for your return," you greet him, smiling.

"were you now? missed me that bad?" he asks, reaching out to caress your cheek.

"yes, my lord. i missed you so much. not a day goes by where i don't think about you."

"why, how sweet...perhaps you deserve a reward for your honesty."

"a reward...?" your eyes grow wide and you start getting embarrassingly overjoyed at the idea of a reward given to you by the lord himself.

"so eager. you seem like you're truly getting committed to playing the role of a mutt."

you try to change your expression in haste, but you end up looking more bashful than anything. sukuna laughs at another one of your strange expressions.

"i'm only teasing."

he then pulls his arm out of his sleeve, revealing something you never thought you'd see in his hands.

a hairpin... specifically, one with a large blue butterfly on it. embedded with pretty jewels, and shaped to perfection. it would've been something difficult to obtain. for someone who's always busy creating chaos, when would he have had the time to find such a thing amongst everything else?

"i thought you would enjoy having something like this. do you like it?"

"oh... like would be an understatement, sukuna-sama. i adore it. is it really for me?"

"who else could have it? don't ask foolish questions."

it could only ever belong to you.

he places the pin into your hair, graceful and elegant with his hands. it makes you feel overjoyed. heat rises to your cheeks and they hurt from how much you're smiling.

"not bad at all. it was worth obtaining."

your hand rises to where the hairpin is, and you touch it gently, letting your fingertips feel the texture of the pin and it's butterfly pattern.

"am i... am i pretty, my lord?" you ask sheepishly, looking up at him with your doe eyes.

he's smiling at you rather gently, his eyes mirroring your reflection within them as he gazes down at you in silence. his lack of a verbal response almost makes you nervous, however.

sukuna reaches out to hold your hand, and pulls you closer towards him. he's glad that nobody else is around, for he's certain they would've also felt so drawn to you, like he is right now.

he palms your cheek again, before letting his thumb brush over your lips delicately.

you never sever your gaze from him, continuing to await his reply.

"... you're beautiful,"

he finally relents.

sukuna then presses his lips against yours, underneath the moon's blessing. once again, and forevermore.

fin.

Masterlist

[highvern]

endpoint

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x f!reader

Genre: fluff, smut, angst, FWB to idiots to lovers

warnings:  cumshot/facial, unprotected sex, multiple sex scenes, oral sex (m & f receiving), rough sex, breath play (choking), mentions of exhibitionism, face fucking, virgin wonwoo mentions, idiots in love, edging (emotionally), impact play, sir kink (brief), alcohol consumption

Length: ~19.5k

Note: thank you to @gyuswhore my love, my life, for suffering through this with me. this fic is set in the same universe as her gyu fic for this collab so check it out (threat). also thank u @haologram and everyone else who beta'd this for me bc im sensitive. follow @camandemstudios for more fics!!! i will come back later and tag the people who commented on the teaser but rn im getting day drunk hehehe

summary: Senior year of college is meant to be full of celebration and smooth sailing. Years of work culminating in the final semesters that will send you off into the real world where clubs, sports, and weekends packed with hungover volunteering to pad your resume no longer mattered. It’d be a piece of cake if it wasn’t for your fuck buddy turned coworker having the same plan. But only one of you can get the department’s most coveted recommendation that all but guarantees your acceptance. Tension rises and the nearly four year thing you’ve had with Wonwoo approaches its endpoint.

collab m.list || m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

“What’s the difference between a proton and an electron again?”

“Shoot me in the fucking head,” Wonwoo whispers harshly.

He’s a seat over, a laptop covered in gaming stickers and a coffee cup containing a lethal amount of caffeine occupying the space atop the narrow lecture desk. It’s a feign to productivity. His screen is split between thesis notes and a countdown to a new video game release that unfortunately hits 0 in the middle of lecture. 

Dr. Wagner’s intro to chemistry  course isn’t difficult – freshman aside – which is why you and Wonwoo agreed to be her teaching assistants. Easy money and a way to get in her good graces come grad school application season. You’ve TA’ed the same course since sophomore year for different professors but it’s all the same; the metaphorical killing field before hopeful freshmen become cannon fodder in the real trial of will: O Chem. 

“Me first,” you whisper back. 

Wonwoo slumps in his chair, opening the shared drive keeping track of problem areas to touch on in lab hours, and typing “check for basic brain activity” under the class To-Do list. 

Fair enough. If they can’t understand the basics this far into the semester then you two are in for a world of hurt for the next practical. You're in for a world of hurt come next study hall when half of them will complain about failing their quiz this morning despite having the answers spoon fed straight from the notes.

[09:48] You:  be nice

[09:48] wonwoo: if they were smarter, id be nicer

[09:48] You: maybe they’re scared stupid

It wouldn’t be too far off. One time a freshman burst into tears while asking Wonwoo to check their practice work during lab hours. Wonwoo swears he didn’t say anything and the kid looked on the verge of a mental breakdown if the wind blew the wrong way.

[09:48] wonwoo: from what?

[09:48] You: the fact ur trying to kill them with your mind

[09:49 ]wonwoo : i wouldn’t kill them

[09:49] wonwoo: just maim or seriously injure so they dont come to class and say dumb shit

Dr. Wagner fields more questions in front of the powerpoint. More ‘dumb shit’ Wonwoo rolls his eyes at with such obvious disgust even you feel chastised. Luckily, no one can see his face from the front row besides you.

[09:49] You: you wonder why they like me more

[09:50] wonwoo: i know why they like you more

[09:50] You: oh?

Stifling an eye roll of your own you throw a glance his way as the next message comes through,

[09:50] wonwoo: nice ass

“Alright, Y/N and Wonwoo will be passing out the study guide for the next exam. We still have a few weeks so don’t worry about the back half but try and review the modules we’ve done so far and bring questions for them during study hours,” Dr. Wagner prattles off.

The gigantic stack of printouts is split in half for you and Wonwoo to disperse around the massive lecture hall. Over one hundred students sit in this lecture; the unfortunate ones who were forced to take a 9 AM course three days a week. Half look like their brain is melting out of their ears, other’s clearly haven’t paid attention at all, and a few are sound asleep. It’s Friday after all. They probably didn’t get back from their Thirsty Thursday night out until a few hours ago.

You wouldn’t even be here if Wonwoo wasn’t a built in insurance policy.

Dr. Wagner collects her things and heads towards the front exit with a cheery, “Have a good weekend!”

“There's a party at Sigma tonight,” Wonwoo shares as you both pack your own bags. The next class is already shuffling through the doors to claim their seats.

“I have work until eleven.”

“After?”

Shouldering your bag, you head towards the door where the next class is already trickling in to find their seats. “Don’t you have a tournament tomorrow?”

“I only have to be at the party for like an hour. I can come and walk you home.”

“Fine,” you nod. “But bring your laptop. I think Chan fucked up the last set of results and we need to fix them.”

It’s not unusual for Wonwoo to spend his Friday nights with you; or another night for that matter. He lives in a dingy frat house on the edge of campus with twenty other guys. It’s an act of mercy. A long standing tradition from the week before freshman year when you two were the only chemistry majors in your orientation group and that turned into a clumsy hook up at an upperclassman’s party. You didn’t know he’d be a virgin and he didn’t know your high school boyfriend dumped you less than twenty four hours before you left for college (but not before you lost your own virginity in the backseat of his car). 

It’d been…not good. 

Wonwoo was awkward and you were unsure. But he was sweet under the bravado; walked you home that night, pretended he wasn’t interested in the fact your roommate never moved in, leaving the suite empty. But he wasn’t a good enough actor to feign nonchalance when you invited him upstairs. Turns out sex was a lot better the second time around, in a bed that didn’t belong to an unknown upperclassman who could’ve burst in any minute. 

Wonwoo isn’t your boyfriend. You’re too busy piecing together the ten year plan concocted since junior year of highschool to even think about such frilly ideas. There’s barely enough time as it is; you’ve got work, a full class schedule, TAing, and all the random clubs you’ve wiggled your way into to pad your resume. 

And he’s busy too. Navigating a sports scholarship and one of the hardest majors left barely enough time for him to wipe his own ass, let alone date. Then came research hours and TAing and the fact volleyball, apparently, wasn’t just a one semester sport, there were scrimmages, workouts, and tournaments out of season. 

It’s been over three years of your arrangement which works best because you don’t have to spend precious brain power deciphering if some random guy you went out with once is playing hard to get or just straight up not interested. You have Wonwoo. He’s simple. 

So what you have now, friends. Who hook up. And work together. Who also happens to be applying for the same PhD program for next year. Not together but at the same time.

The application website stares back from your laptop with horror. 

It’s still too early to submit any materials but it’s been highlighted in bold red in your calendar since two years ago. Everything is ready to go the second it opens—except Dr. Wagner’s recommendation. It’s the sole reason you (and Wonwoo) agreed to be her TAs this semester; she’s one of the program’s most notorious alum, her words as good as gold in securing a spot. 

Someone hacks a cough and shatters the eerie silence of the library. The backtrack of sparse typing and the custodian shuffling around to have been the only company throughout your shift. No one would choose to rot at any of the weathered study tables late on a Friday night so early in the semester. 

With the abundance of free time, you fixed Chan’s mistakes in his set of trials easily, no thanks to Wonwoo who still hasn’t shown up. It’s good though. Your stoichiometry homework is submitted three days before the deadline and the mountain of emails clogging your inbox from hopeless undergrads is in the single digits. Half the labs from last week are graded for Dr. Wagner’s approval, the other half can wait until Sunday night. A long weekend of sleep awaits once the clock hits eleven and you’re free to run home.

Wonwoo stumbless in five minutes before the clock runs out. His duffle for tomorrow is slung over his shoulder and he’s already dressed for bed, rumpled sweats and a hat he definitely wore to the party with high hopes to cut out early. 

“You’re late,” you acknowledge, cramming your belongings back into your bag. He’s close enough to get a whiff of. “And you’re drunk.”

“I am not drunk,” he argues.

The lazy smile tugging at the corner of his lips says otherwise but it isn’t an argument worth having. All you want to do is get home and pass out.

He shoulders you bag, presenting his hand when you insist you can carry it on your own. The dry warm of his palm against your cold is pleasant enough you don’t argue as you tug him towards the automatic doors.

“Have a goodnight, Mr. Lee,” you call towards the security desk.

The guard, old enough to be your grandfather, calls back, “You too, sweetheart.”

Out in the balmy night, you tug Wonwoo down the street in the direction of your apartment. Two blocks and then a right turn leaving you outside the dowdy building with hallways that constantly reek of weed and new paint smell.

A pack of freshmen girls heading somewhere, marked by their matching uniform of jeans and black tops of various coverage, crowd the sidewalk straight ahead. Someone is crying, one is on the phone, and a few others stand dumbly waiting for their next movie like zombies — all incredibly wasted. You barrel through them without acknowledgement. A few drunken bitter ‘bitch’s hit your back but you ignore them to focus on the man struggling to push through the crowd without accidentally shoulder checking any of them.

On the other side, you ask, “Have fun at the party?”

“Some pledge puked on Jihoon’s stuff,” he huffs, nose scrunching.

“May he rest in peace.”

Wonwoo sways from side to side from the weight of your bag but also whatever radioactive mix was served at the party. The stairs provide an extra challenge since the elevator has been broken for weeks but thankfully it’s a short trip to the second floor.

He presents your belongings with routine ease once the front door of your apartment looms ahead. Music from the floor above shakes the walls; hopefully you can make up for the lack of sleep tomorrow morning.

There isn’t much space inside the four walls you call home – the ‘kitchen’ which is a single counter with a stove and fridge you’re barely around to use, fifteen feet away your bed in the corner, bordered by your desk at the foot cramped with a spray of errant papers and books you’ve been too busy to deal with. The monitor doubles as a TV and finally a tiny loveseat with a broken leg replaced by a stack of hard covers completes the room.

You beeline for the bathroom to wash away the filth of a long day and Wonwoo, keeping on trend, follows into the cramped space.

“Can I help you?” you ask, shirt tossed into the bin in the corner.

Wonwoo’s shirt goes the same and then his pants after a brief struggle. “You know I sleep better when I shower.” 

True.

“And I doubt you're gonna let me in your bed if I’m dirty.”

Even truer.

The water is still cold when you step in but the man glued to your back fights the worst of the chill away. Goosebumps prickle along your skin but have nothing to do with the vent that points directly into the stall (whoever designed the apartments must have had a sick sense of humor) and everything to do with Wonwoo’s mouth tracing the curve of your shoulder.

Forcing the heat blooming between your legs down to a simmer, you focus on washing up and getting into bed before it rolls into a boil and you do something stupid that’ll only leave you and Wonwoo struggling for balance. 

Shower sex is a dangerous sport. Shower sex with Wonwoo has left you both with bruises. Drunken shower sex with Wonwoo will get you both killed.

Soft hums tickle your neck as you clean up. There isn’t enough room for two people to stand in the spray at once so you take turns hogging the steamy water and braving the frigid cold until the last bits of soap swirl the drain.

Even when drying off you stay in each other’s orbit until the need for clothes and sleep drive you both out of the bathroom and back into the equally cramped space of your room.

It’s not until you’re laying on the mattress, darkness snug on all sides, that you feel Wonwoo roll atop you with purpose.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Wonwoo hums into your stomach, fingers crawling up your bare legs.

“That,” you inhale at the nip of his teeth on the curve of your thigh, “doesn’t feel like nothing to me.”

Wonwoo doesn’t answer but gives you plenty of time to brush him off while bruising your skin. You don’t. Instead you sink deeper into the blankets and let him push your shirt up until you're bare once more.

The fuzziness of alcohol lingers in his veins – just enough that he smiles into the strip of skin above your panties as you sigh and arch under the delicious weight of wandering hands and mouth at your nipple.

“Wonwoo,” you sigh and he’s up and kissing you with eager clumsiness.

A familiar prod at your core through his boxers crashes bubbles through your veins. You felt it in the bathroom but now is when you finally get to indulge with subtle grinds Wonwoo meets in his own search for friction. 

“Don’t you need to be up—ugh—early tomorrow?”

He kisses you slowly, tongue dragging along your bottom lip until your mouth opens under his. It burns you from the inside out. Mindlessly you shift your legs to frame his hips better but Wonwoo kisses deeper and all you can think about is giving in to whatever scheme he’s working up to have you both naked and panting.

He leans back a fraction to speak, giving in when you chase his lips before ducking to nip at your ear and mumbling a response. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I will worry about it when you snooze twenty alarms and your team hunts me down because I smothered their star player with a pillow,” you snort but heat under a squeeze of his fingers at your sides.

“Sleep when I’m done with this.”

“And what is ‘this’ exactly?”

A harsh suck at your jaw has your stomach tight. heavy and thick until need drips down your spine to coil in your gut and the emptiness between your thighs becomes unignorable. He hides pleased groans in the curve of your neck until you force a hand under the band of his underwear. Eyes opening, you watch the muscles of his back tense and flex as he rocks against you, fucking your fist greedily.

It doesn’t last long. Wonwoo gets antsy under the taunting pressure of your thumb and descends back down your body with burning lips. “Take your shirt off.”

“It’s cold,” you complain but do as he asks. 

He traces your figure clad in nothing but your glasses and a soiled pair of panties; damp at the crotch from his attention and Wonwoo slips a finger under the hem to tease you that inch closure to depravity.

Wonwoo laves against the hickey on the inside of your thigh from a week ago, it’s yellowed and perfectly shaped like his mouth. It’s tender under his attention, even the gentle tracing on his nose forcing you to wince in discomfort. 

He coos, kissing it before skating back to the hem of your panties, lips vibrating against your skin. “Sorry I didn’t come earlier.”

Why he brings it up now is a mystery. Or the fact he brings it up at all. Life happens. You’ve blown him off more than once for a late night in the library; no hard feelings.

“It’s fine,” you sigh as he tugs the last scrap of fabric off your body and pushes your knees up to display you like a meal.

Spreading you apart, he lands a wet kiss at your entrance before teasing with the heat of his tongue. 

In a beg for sanity you twist a tight grip in his hair; a tangled mess from his drunk endeavors. Wonwoo pushes harder, drowns in your taste with enthusiasm as you moan and sigh. 

“F-fuck.”

He won’t ask if it’s good. He knows it is. Nearly four years of hook ups attunes him to your pleasure, a well rehearsed routine that has you both ache in the best way. 

You lose yourself in shaking breaths, feet planted to drive up into his mouth for more. He sucks your clit and nearly gets his head crushed by your thighs. It doesn’t take much and he knows it. 

You chant ‘gonna cum’ in choked groans that almost die at the edge of your teeth but Wonwoo hears and takes it as permission to pull out the stops, hand at your thing with a harsh grip and fingers sinking home.

He’s memorized all the signs of your want; the wrecked echo of your throat and the sounds he pulls from you a clear tell. He flattens his tongue, holding steady as grind straight into mindless bliss. Spit pools and drips and slips down onto the sheets. Wonwoo hums praise, unintelligible but you vaguely know it’s something that’d make you blush you could hear it over the pounding in your ears.

Back arching, your vision flares white at the edges and when Wonwoo realizes what's happening he makes it last until your fist ball up and you’re floating.

Wonwoo backs down as you twitch through the tail end, sloppy kisses to your clit that could knock into another fit if he isn’t careful. But even as you tremble the only thing you want is the weight of his cock in your mouth, or inside you. You aren’t picky as long as you get to feel him cum too.

You finally manage to pry Wonwoo from between your legs with an ankle to his ribs. You’re not done with him despite the fatigue hanging around your shoulders like dead weight. He angles over top of you for a kiss that tastes too much like pussy for your liking but it’s hot knowing he’s covered in you so you push until his shoulders meet the sheets and you can claim his lap.

His dick strains through his underwear, preening when you rock back into the heat. His nostrils flare when you grab for it, stiff enough to sink onto easily. 

“Oh god,” he groans, head digging back into the pillows to watch you like a goddess.

His fingers web across the tops of your thighs, a harsh grip keeping you flat as he grinds up into the wet heat of your pussy. You whimper and sigh for him; all the sounds he loves to hear. You squeeze your chest, taut nipples framed between the slants of your fingers to entice him until he reaches around and knocks you forward for the sole purpose of taking one in his mouth.

Your eyes roll back, jaw locked open, drowning in the stretch and the bite of his mouth and the hands squeezing your ass so hard it hurts. Wonwoo groans, throaty and desperate. “Gonna cum. Wanna cum in you. Holy shit.”

He gets you on your back. Too absorbed in his own end, he’s dead weight with his tongue between your lips and harsh thrusts that take him right to the edge. It gives that grit against your clit that means you’ll come too, soaked in cum and spit and sweat.

You wish he’d flip you on your front and fuck you with a hand between you shoulder blades and the other tangled in your hair. That’s the kind of fuck that’d leave you satisfied the entire weekend he’s busy but he’s running out of steam just doing this, picking up speed in his thrust, the clap of bodies filling the room.

Chanting his name like a broken record, ‘Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonwoo’ breathy but loud enough your neighbors will leave another passive aggressive note on your door come morning, all you can think about is his cum. On you, in you. A sick part wants him to pull out and cum on your face – he hasn’t, not in a long time because priorities and responsibilities and you're usually lucky to have even five minutes alone before someone needs either of you. But you want it. God do you want it.

“Cum on my face,” you whimper. There’s drool on your lips and sweat in your hairline. Even if he doesn't, you'll need another shower anyway.

A strangled noise escapes from between his teeth at your neck. Then he’s driving forward so hard you burn; painfully so, mouth locked in a silent choke. Your orgasm rips through your insides, jagged at the edges where Wonwoo fucks himself into your guts. 

“Fuck yeah,” he grunts, pulling away and replacing the grip of your pussy with a tight fist as he straddles your chest. 

The taste of cock floods your tongue, heady and intoxicating. You get one, two drags against the stiff head and then he’s cumming, dripping his spend over your lips, then your cheek, then your glasses because he’s a sick freak. Even in the dim light from the window he twitches at the sight. You open your mouth and replace his hold, moaning as more comes to the surface. You swallow down as far as he’ll go which isn’t much in this position but it’s the thought that counts.

Wonwoo grinds to halt with an occasional kick of his hips that leaves you choking – rigid limbs locking in place until he melts with sticky satisfaction. 

He’s up and off, your glasses in hand for a thorough cleaning, not even bothering to flick on any of the lights but you hear the sink running in the bathroom before he comes padding back.

“God,” you whimper in disgust. “That’s so gross.”

“You’re the one who asked for it,” Wonwoo snorts, soft passes of a damp cloth on your skin focused on getting you clean enough to sleep.

“Because it’s hot but you aim for shit.”

Wonwoo tosses the rag somewhere, flopping down and pulling you close as possible with a kiss on your forehead. “Next time I’ll aim for your hair.”

“Bitch.”

The sound of music from upstairs pulses through your head as you drift off, Wonwoo asleep on your chest, fingers laced together on the sheets beside your indecipherably intertwined bodies.

Your week is divided into a simple pattern. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays you wake bright and early to attend Dr. Wagner’s chem lecture and then stay on campus attending every other class you could find to fill the gap between your evening shift at the library. Tuesdays and Thursdays are void of responsibility until your afternoon lab with the freshman near tears while learning basic titration for four hours, followed by office hours where said freshman finally come to actually cry about their grades. Those are the nights you, Chan, Wonwoo and a handful of other lab techs work on research that carries the same threat of waterworks. 

It’s there Dr. Wagner pulls you and Wonwoo aside.

“I know you both are applying to Dr. Collins lab for your PhD studies,” she starts. 

Her office reflects the same disarray as her personality; warm and lived in. Papers and exams are organized in chaos, thick stacks lining her desk waiting for you and Wonwoo to enter them into the online grade book. Books, some leather, some paperback, some the glossy cover of a textbook with cracked spines and yellowing pages are crammed into the bookshelves lining the walls until they threaten to collapse from the weight. It smells like coffee, plants, and the candle she always has burning. It’s a cozy hovel overlooking the rear courtyard of the science building that resembles the sterility of a hospital. 

Wonwoo occupies the other barrel chair with worn upholstery. You’ve barely seen him in the past three weeks, too busy with volunteering and working and classes while his own responsibilities keep him so exhausted it’s truly a miracle he’s even here. Dark stains ring his eyes beneath his glasses and he looks paler than usual. You’ll ask about it tonight when he comes over to work on your most recent stoichiometry project (which will be forgotten in favor of passing out during a movie while you play with his hair if history is anything to go by).

“I don’t think I’ve ever met two students who belong more in his lab,” she continues.

You try not to preen, but academic validation is a hell of a drug to caffeine addicted undergrads. Wonwoo perks up too. Three and a half years of barely being people for this moment and it’s finally in reach.

“However,” Dr. Wagner clasps her hands atop the dark wooden desk. “I’m writing only one recommendation this semester. It might seem unfair but I want to commit to the student that deserves it the most since my schedule doesn’t allow me much free time.”

It’s like being underwater. You hear her words but nothing registers, blinking rapidly in case this is a hallucination from falling asleep in the lab again.

“I know it might not be the news you hoped for but I know senior year is a lot, especially for students as involved as you all, and I thought this could alleviate some of the stress. You two are the only students I’m considering. So please, keep up the incredible work and we can talk again at the end of the semester when I have a more holistic evaluation of your progress.”

She stands to leave, snagging her purse and blowing out the candle with finality before abandoning the shit storm in your lap for whatever else she has to do on a Thursday night. Probably retell the events of the last five minutes to other professors in the department, laughing at the way you’ve turned purple from holding your breath.

“Have a good night you two! See you tomorrow!”

The office, once warm, feels hollow. You feel hollow. 

“What the fuck?” Wonwoo hasn’t moved either, glued to his seat as he stares at Dr. Wagner’s now vacant chair with his mouth wide in shock.

“Did that just happen?” you scoff in disbelief. “Is she serious?”

Wonwoo collapses over his knees with his hands scrubbing at his face like he also might be hallucinating. “I needed that recommendation.”

“Well, so do I,” you argue.

“I know. This is bullshit.”

“Did Changkyun say anything like this happened last year when she wrote one for him?”

“No, all three people who asked her got one.”

“Oh, so it’s just us she hates. Great!” you throw your hands up, sinking deeper in the chair. Maybe it’ll swallow you whole and the entire ordeal will cease to exist.

“She’s probably just trying to get in our heads so we don’t slack off this semester.”

“Have we ever slacked off any semester? I’ve been on the President’s Honor List since freshman year. You’ve been on the President’s Honor List since freshman year. We’re those people.”

Since starting college, since that one night during orientation where you and Wonwoo became a ‘we’. Not in the relationship sense, but in the way two lines merge. Same path, same goals, same classes, same PhD program prospects. There was plenty you two did separately but more you did together. Neither competing, but working together. 

But now that’s over.

Because only one of you can get into Dr. Collins lab, only one of you can get the recommendation, and only one of you can have what you both worked tirelessly for over the past three years.

“Listen—” you stand up and scrub at your own face. “It’ll be fine. We’ll figure it out.”

“We? Only one of us can get her recommendation. What’s there to figure out?”

Your face goes hot. He’s right. “Well, I need that recommendation.”

“So do I,” Wonwoo argues, eyes cold.

“Fine.”

That recommendation is mine.

“Fine!”

We’ll see about that.

Wonwoo stays in her office, flinching as you slam the door and flee.

The issue with fighting with Wonwoo is that as mad as both of you are, there are a million responsibilities you share that require close proximity.

Presently, it’s grading the last batch of exams. Seventy eight packets. And because Dr. Wagner doesn’t believe in convenience, it all has to be graded by the hand of two TAs running on nothing but caffeine and spite.

Which means it’s past midnight and the couch has a permanent impression of Wonwoo’s ass while you both silently fume and scratch through wrong answers with a heavy hand in red ink.

The weather reflects the atmosphere; pouring rain and thunder loud enough to shake the windows. The power has flickered in and out since the rain started but you're both too stubborn to call it quits – if there is nothing to keep you occupied then you might rip his throat out.

Wonwoo doesn’t even ask if you want more coffee before he snags your empty mug and moves to the kitchenette. You don’t look up when he sets it back down, and only grab it and take the first sip of perfectly steaming hot sweetness when he flops back on the couch without another word. 

Then the power goes out again, and doesn’t come back.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Using the flashlight on your phone, you search the drawers of your desk for candles. There nowhere to be found amongst the stacks of unopened sticky notes and tangled cords. 

Wonwoo shuffles behind you, papers landing on the coffee table completely abandoned. “We’ve been at this for hours. Let’s just go to sleep.”

“I have them in here somewhere,” you bite, another handful of chargers and a stapled you’ve never used and other things you didn’t even realize you own fill the drawer. You move to the second. “There’s only a few tests left.”

“We can do them tomorrow. It can wait.”

“No,” you spit like a curse.

Whatever Wonwoo was planning to say dies on his lips. “Fine.” 

His shirt lands over your head, you rip it off only to find him half naked in the dark, huddling under one of the throw blankets you keep on the back of the couch. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sleeping.”

“On the couch?” 

“Yep.”

“You’re too tall.”

“Well,” he draws like a pouty kid. “I don’t feel like sharing the bed with you.”

In a way it’s safer to argue about something trivial like this versus the entire reason you’ve iced each other out since that day in her office. Because at least like this, you won’t lose him. It’s stupid and petty but at least you’re speaking to each other; breaking through that wall of silence that’s been steadily growing more and more unnavigable as the inevitable draws nearer.

“Fine, then I’ll sleep on the couch and you take the bed.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. N. O.”

Fine.

It’s difficult to navigate in the dark. Your knees end up a victim to the edge of the coffee table and you trip over the edge of the rug, but you find the couch. Reaching down, you find his chest, then his shoulder. And once you’re sufficiently oriented you sit on him.

“Ow,” Wonwoo grunts as you flop down, elbow in his gut and his chin hitting your forehead. “What are you doing?”

You wedge in closer, slipping between his body and the cushions, bracing to kick him off by force if needed. “Sleeping.”

“Here?” he asks. Too aware of your plan, he turns as well, grabbing the back of the couch overhead to stay put.

“You’re too tall to sleep here.”

“And we’re both too big to sleep here together. Take the bed.”

“No,” you huff.

“No?”

“No. N.O. I believe you’re familiar with the word,” you spit.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“If you keep talking then neither of us will sleep.”

“Neither of us are gonna sleep anyway. You move too much to be comfortable like this.”

He’s right of course. Your hips already ache but if you move then he’ll find some way to pull you off. “I’m fine.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

You do the mature thing and bite him. 

The muscles corded around his pec twitch under your mouth as he flinches. “What the hell was that for?” 

You do it again.

“Stop.”

“Or what?” you ask, muffled in his skin as you move to leave another bite.

Wonwoo also does the mature thing and pins your wrists in one hand, maneuvering until you're sandwiched between the couch with his chest flat to your back.

“I can’t breathe like this,” you muffle into the cushions.

“Oh, how tragic.” You feel his words tickle the back of your neck rather than hear them. 

Wonwoo releases your wrists pinned to your stomach. His hand finds its way under your shirt, his shirt from some stupid frat fundraiser you’d been coerced into attending, flat to your belly with soothing circles. His calf hooks over your own to tangle your bodies together. He kisses the back of your neck, a simple brush of his lips that lingers.

It’s easier to feel everything in the dark. Your annoyance and frustration forged over the past weeks melts away and all that’s left is the need to have Wonwoo close. Just like this. Where there are no deadlines, or responsibilities. Where you both can drown in each others’ presence and everything else is washed away in the heavy drops pounding the windows outside.

Here, everything is uncomplicated.

The next rumble of thunder is loud enough to send you both in the air. Unfortunately, Wonwoo drags you backwards off the couch and to the floor. You land relatively unscathed but he knocks his elbow into the coffee table.

“Are you okay?”

Wonwoo groans and curses, cradling his elbow.

“Aw, tell the doctor where it hurts,” you coo, prodding his side.

He snatches your hand and pins it to his chest but not before lacing his fingers through your own. The gentle rise of and fall of breathing and the thud of his heart reverberates down your arm and straight into your own chest where something frozen softens. “Has anyone told you you’re annoying when you’re tired?”

“Yes. You. Lots of times.”

“Good. Wanna make sure you’re aware.”

Lighting turns everything white, a quick flash highlighting the room. There and gone and leaving you more disoriented than before. Rolling over, you hook a thigh over his lap which he welcomes, tugging you closer and absorbing the proximity like second nature. You’re a glutton for warmth –  Wonwoo’s warmth specifically – even in his sweater and his sweat shorts and his shirt, you still want more of him.

“We can’t sleep like this.”

You don’t want to move – laying like this, in the dark, nose dug into his chest as you twisting your fingers in his, squeezing and glowing pathetically when he squeezes back – all you want is to drown in him a little longer. Until you're forced to come up for breath.

But the sore spot between you two is still raw like a fresh bruise.

“Then sleep in the bed,” his lips drags over your knuckles as he speaks.

“No. You sleep in the bed, you’re too tall to sleep on the couch.”

“Fine.” Wonwoo jumps up from his place on the floor, grabbing your hands once again before dragging you around the coffee table towards the opposite side of the room. It’s ridiculously childish, especially in the dark where he bounces off the desk and the rug roughens the back of your legs.

He shimmies you around a corner and a cloud of laughter puffs between your lips. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sleeping in the bed, and you’re sleeping in the bed with me.”

“What if I don’t want to sleep next to you?”

“Then I’ll cry. Like that time we watched Steel Magnolias.”

“Have mercy,” you whimper.

“Then get your ass in bed.”

Deflating like a balloon, you stand. Wonwoo keeps his hands on you the entire time, guiding you down to the mattress and covering your body with his own just in case of an escape. He bunkers down in the safety of your neck, dragging your hands to his hair, mimicking the motions he craves until you take up the action and gently comb through the tangles.

A part of you wants to cry. Preemptively mourn the end of this – whatever this is. Late nights with Wonwoo, whispering in the dark about clueless underclassmen and annoying professors. Taking turns scrolling through adoptable cats at the local rescue. Cooing over them, rolling your eyes when Wonwoo finds Pixel still listed as available for adoption, a sign to him that he’s meant to have her except he lives in a frat house. Or the nights neither of you can sleep and take a trip to the local diner and tuck yourselves away in a corner booth to watch drunk people cling to consciousness over waffles and hash browns. 

There will be no more of that. Not by the time winter break comes. One of you is getting the gold ticket and the other will be up in the air with the hundreds of other people competing for the same handful of slots. And if one of you doesn't get in? 

“Was that so hard?” he whispers into your collar.

When you don’t answer, he looks up at. In the cast of lighting coming through the window he’s the same Wonwoo. The one you’ve been best friends with for years now. The one who is practically glued to your side whenever possible. 

The one who you’ll have to say goodbye to.

He meets your kiss lazily. Like he still thinks you have all the time in the world.

It makes the urge to cry that much worse.

The rain is gone by morning. 

The room glows from the orange light of the first minutes of sunrise. Sometime in the night you rolled to your side and Wonwoo pressed tight to your back. He’s awake, drawing shapes on your hip beneath the fabric of your shirt.

“Morning.” 

You hum and roll over to burrow in his chest, the crown of your head digging into his neck and away from the sun. “Morning.”

The warmth of his hands trace the curve of your back, pulling you closer; hiding his own discontent with such an early break in the tentative truce that only seems to exist in the late hours of night and earliest minutes of dawn. Days of sleep deprivation with nothing but sterile lighting in the lab leaves you both needy and vulnerable. So he hugs you tighter and sighs when you do the same.

He’s hard against your thigh. Clearly a result of biology more than need because he’s snoring against your hairline. Flashes of dreams rush forward – him beneath you, on top of you, behind you. It’s been weeks since you two last fucked. When you called him an idiot and he called you stubborn and next thing you were on the table with your legs spread for Wonwoo’s hand in a clumsy bump and grind while arguing about which one of you fucked up the biosensor callibration through gritted teeth and needy whimpers.

You’re wet. With his thigh pressed between your own the fact becomes more evident as the urge to curl into it nags.

Taking advantage of the exposed curve of skin beneath your mouth, you kiss and suck with lax intent until Wonwoo tips his chin up and gives a silent green light.

A heavy hand drags down his front, nails scratching bluntly through the fabric until it can slip beneath the waistband of his sweats and the curve of his cock sits pretty in your palm. Commando for convenience and comfort. More the latter because there’s no shot in hell he’s been getting laid lately.

His breath is sticky in his throat, vibrating beneath your teeth from thin pants as you work him through a loose fist. “Can I?”

“Yeah,” he huffs. “Yes.”

Slouching down, your head rests on his stomach, sweatpants bunched around his thighs. The first lick sends his hips up in search of more and you eagerly supply the soft suction of your mouth; lips catching around the flared head. A hand on the back of your skull keeps your hair from interfering as he plumps against your tongue. 

Eagerness fails to penetrate this moment slowed down by the greater need to drag this out. To savor every second because who knows when you’ll both stop being petty enough to just enjoy one another’s presence again.

“Might cum—fuck— don’t stop,” he grunts.

With the sun filling the room even more you’re running out of time, the warmth growing to leave sweat at the small of your back. He pushes harder into the curve of your throat and you let him, gagging wet with a lewd mix of spit and pre-cum that has you both moaning at the choked sound. Jaw slack, Wonwoo fucks your mouth with slow ruts; stomach tightening and the hand in your hair fisting tight enough you moan.

“Shit, babe—c-cumming,” he whines with a pathetic groan you’d make fun of him for later but all you can think about is the thick taste of cum and if there’s enough time for some attention between your own legs before life becomes unignorable. Not enough time for a real fuck but Wonwoo has a few tricks up his sleeve that promise satisfaction.

You bounce back down next to him and Wonwoo pounces, rolling on top of you, thing between your spread legs. He doesn’t shy away from your tongue against his teeth, dips a thumb beneath your chin and slips his tongue right along with it, sucks your lips until the swell, backing off only to bunch your shirt up. Lazy drags of his mouth on yours – not the ‘I need you’ kisses after a late night but the ‘I miss you’ ones after weeks of passive aggressive silence.

He licks down your front, goosebumps blooming from the draft as he sucks a nipple until you arch and twist a hand in his hair. You give a lax stretch and sigh while his hand slips beneath the edge of your panties.

Taking the morning for what it is, you fall into the motions until the blare of the alarm clock signals the beginning of the end.

You push away and swipe blindly at the night stand to make it stop but Wonwoo has other plans. 

He pins your hips down, tongue flat to the crotch of your underwear with a pant. “Ignore it.”

“What?” You look at him and find tired eyes watching back from over the edge of your wrinkled shirt. His hair is a mess, stuck to the side of his head from sleep and your eager hands and all you want to do is comb the tangles out while he pulls your strings like a puppet master.

But you can’t.

“We’ve got class,” you gasp through a hot kiss on your clit.

A groggy groan of, “skip,” vibrates on your skin.

Fingers curling in the sheets, you grasp for disagreement only to find a moan as he pulls your hips closer and works a finger where you need it most.

“We can’t.”

“We can,” Wonwoo grunts, focusing on peppering greedy kisses to the sensitive insides of your thighs. “We’ve been early every time this semester.”

The hand not curling in your guts runs down the back of your calf, bending until it hooks over his shoulder.

“Fuck, Wonu,” you whine over the crude sounds of his mouth. You want to. God, do you want to. But you open your eyes again and they land on the stack of exams on your desk. Ungraded. Because Wonwoo said you could do them this morning. And now he wants you to skip class despite how important it is. 

You close your legs only for Wonwoo to take it as a challenge, pinning your hips in place and celebrating his perceived victory with a throaty moan as he rocks against the bed.

“Stop.”

He pulls back, mouth wet and brows furrowed. “Huh?”

The alarm on your phone pings again. Swiftly silenced this time as you roll out from beneath him and land beside the mattress on unsteady feet. “We can’t skip. We have to give exams back.”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” he argues, flopping down into the warmth you left vacant.

The room is too bright, a clear sign your morning routine is behind. “You think now is the time to start slacking off?”

“It’s not slacking off.” Wonwoo snags his glasses. He looks more annoyed with them. “It’s a break. You clearly need one.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Just forget it. I’m not arguing with you about stupid shit.”

“And what's stupid shit? The job we signed up for? With the professor who controls our futures?”

Wonwoo fixes his pants and rolls out of bed. On the opposite side. As far away from you as possible. “Whatever.”

“Fine.”

“Fine!”

“Good!”

“Good!”

You slam the bathroom door shut with finality. When you come back out, any trace of Wonwoo is long gone.

There aren’t many people in class. A benefit of Halloweekend is the partying starts Wednesday and doesn’t stop until the following week. Even with last night's rain plenty of students are battling hangovers which leaves a third of the usual lecture attendance to witness you and Wonwoo go head to head while Dr. Wagner sits at home with a mysterious illness she announced in an email three minutes after nine AM.

The few that are there snag their papers, lips curled in disgust at the plethora of red ink spilled on white pages. Their own faults for not paying attention during lecture but maybe the scarlet gashes were a little dramatic. Wonwoo’s jaw is tight, pointedly ignoring you except to hand exams over that someone is waiting for with dread in their eyes. 

You could’ve skipped. It wouldn’t even count as skipping because class is canceled and there’s no award for hauling ass at the crack of dawn when your advisor isn’t even here to see it. You could be tucked away in your apartment with him under your skin; firmly in the place between dreams and waking where you liked him best, nothing but warm skin and rough hands with his lips on your hairline and your head burrowed in his chest. 

There are too many witnesses to just drop the act and wrap your arms around him from behind until he gives in. Apologize for the stupid shit he rightfully called you out on. But as your courage grows with each student’s exit, Wonwoo makes to leave before you can make use of it. 

Barely an hour of fighting and it already feels like an eternity.

“Hey,” you call.

He freezes by one of the desks near the back of the room, like he’s shocked you’re even there in the first place. But he doesn’t turn around; just tilts his head so you know he’s listening even if he doesn’t want to.

“Sorry about this morning. I-I think the stress is getting to me.”

And the fact that I can’t be mad at anyone besides the universe for this incredibly shitty situation. And I miss you. Even when you’re right next to me.

“Okay.”

“That’s it?” you fidget with the strap of your bag; a million pounds heavier even without the weight of ungraded tests that Wonwoo snatched before you could divide the remaining work.

He turns around, eying you with an exasperated look. “What else should I say? You called me a slack off and implied I don’t do my job.”

“I didn’t,” you argue but it’s salt in the wound because—

“You did.”

“But—”

“It’s fine. I’ll finish grading the exams over the weekend.”

And then you're alone.

You’re alone in the study room you both usually occupy to work on the Nanochemistry project due at the end of term. The shared document has updates, the blink of his cursor mocking your from wherever he hunkered down. Away from you. The temptation to type ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again disappears once he logs out barely a minute after you logged on.

You’re alone at the circulation desk of the library through your shift, head whipping around to every squeak and cough only to find someone who isn’t Wonwoo. There’s an email from him, to Dr. Wagner with you CC’ed, about class averages and exam questions that should be thrown out.

You walk home alone. Other students in various states of dress and intoxication crowd the sidewalks, a few you recognize but they feel a million miles away.

Alone in your apartment, the two mugs from last night clean in the sink.

The good part of being alone is when you start crying, no one is there to see.

It’s near midnight and the chill of the breeze whipping down the street bites at your exposed skin. Already the should-be-condemned frat house pulses with life, the promise of a long night ahead thrumming through the symphony of drunk screams and music.

It’s not unusual for you to attend frat parties. Wonwoo’s favor guarantees free booze and a perch at the top of the staircase where underclassmen are barred from entering. But you’ll settle for watching drunk underclassman stumbling over the front lawn from one of the couches on the front porch (which are so broken in, no one sinks into the cushions – they just fall straight down until the worn springs catch them) because the inside of the house is too hot, and too crowded, and far too loud. 

A hail Mary apology is the only thing on your mind. Yesterday had been the nastiest spat in recent history between you two; notwithstanding sophomore year when Jeonghan asked you for tutoring and Wonwoo insisted on helping. “Helping” meant cutting off every question Jeonghan dared ask with a series of snorts and huffs until you left and refused to talk to him for a week.

He’d apologized in the most Wonwoo fashion – completing your Thermodynamics assignments for the rest of the semester and before going down on you until you threatened to kick him in the head through sensitive sobs.

Wonwoo is here – somewhere. Shuffling up the past, past the line of eager party goers looking for a way in, you scan the front porch, he’s not in his usual waiting spot to whisk you upstairs where the older members hang out with better drinks and better music. Not that he would be. He doesn’t even know you considered coming to this.

Instead, poor Chan, dressed in yellow and black stripes, mans the door with pilot Jihoon by his side.

“Jihoon,” you greet, before looking at the younger man. “Speed bump.”

Chan mumbles something under his breath but lays on the ground regardless. When Wonwoo went through the same hazing you only got a few chances to enjoy the ridiculousness before he dragged you upstairs and shut you up himself.

“Can you not torment the kids?” Jihoon grunts.

“I could. But, where’s the fun in that?” 

“Your boyfriend is inside. If you see Jun, tell him it’s his turn to watch the door.”

“Got it.”

Stepping over the underclassman still laying on the ground, you head inside and straight for the packed kitchen to get a drink. There’s barely any space between the hoard of bodies, forcing you to shuffle forward everytime there's a gap in the crowd; but it’s more like swimming against a rip tide. 

It’s difficult to see with nothing but a few strobe lights and some strings of Christmas lights to clear the dark. One glance up towards the upper landing of the staircase is all it takes to find him right next to Mingyu. Matching costume, two bean poles standing out from the crowd of shorter men. Mingyu makes a brief nod in your direction but before you can see Wonwoo turn you’re off into the kitchen.

It’s an even tighter fit in here. A pledge pours drinks from a cooler, for a brief second you’re tempted to indulge. The last time you did, freshman year, you ended up crying in Wonwoo’s room mid-hookup. You scan the slim pickings and settle on an unopened beer. The shots you took while getting ready are already catching up.

Forced between anxious isolation and drinking, a few of your friends come up and briefly make conversation. You feign interest, eying over their heads for a familiar mop of dark hair without success.

A few guys stop to compliment your costume. They give themselves away in glazed heavily lidded stares, single minded focus on your legs. They ask what your major is, boast their status as pledges to your disinterested grimace, and move on when you finally put them out of their misery and fib about your “boyfriend” being “president or something” but “I don’t pay attention to those things,” and they all disappear significantly paler than when they first appeared.

You bite the bullet of your pride and turn to leave, only to find Wonwoo barely an inch away.

His eyes burn over your figure, the short toga covering just enough for you to avoid public indecency. Good. It’s the entire reason you wore this stupid costume in the first place. He’s a horny loser for nerdy shit and this is the best thing you could’ve worn other than one of those video game character costumes forcing your boobs in your throat and leaving you at serious risk for public indecency.

It’s not the first time you’ve wrapped yourself in barely enough fabric to constitute an outfit for the sake of his forgiveness and it probably won’t be the last.

Wonwoo pins you to the counter with his hips, hands bracketing your figure on either side. The green hat with an ‘L’ is lopsided on his head but at least he didn’t wear the fake mustache. “So, what is your costume?” he hums into the space just below your ear with a kiss.

“Guess.” You tilt your chin, cocky.

“And if I get it right?” he asks, lips at your ear.

Heart pound, you ditch the beer and reach for his hips with purpose. “Whatever you want.”

“Dangerous words.”

“Think of it as my apology for being a huge bitch yesterday.” 

He sighs into your neck, arms tight around your waist in a loose semblance of a hug. It’s a farce. Your ass meets the counter with minor effort and Wonwoo claims the space between your legs before you can pretend to object.

He still hasn’t kissed you.

You want more than kisses. You want to feel him, all of him. Want to drag him to the living room serving as a makeshift dance floor and sink into the heat of his body pressed flat against your own for everyone to see. You want to pull him into that closet off the main hall, familiar from that hot night of freshman year when a drunk make out turned into a timid fingering and eventually Wonwoo handing over his first time on a silver platter. Or even run back to your apartment, pluck through the leftover Halloween candy you bought on discount and watch whatever horror movie has become his recent obsession. You just want him.

“Mingyu thought you were Socrates.”

Pressed this close on the sticky counter, his body is the only thing protecting what little of your dignity is left. Even then, there's enough of the slippery warmth of alcohol to tempt you into rutting against him right here for those stupid pledges to see. “Mingyu is an idiot.”

“Clearly,” he chuckles. “The rubber chicken gave it away.”

You shake it at eye level. “Behold, man.”

“Lame,” his kissing gets bold down the shaft of your neck, teeth scraping your collarbone.

“Oh please, I feel your boner.”

He doesn’t resist you when you nuzzle along the bare parts of his neck, a tease of soft kissing usually reserved for quiet moments tucked away in your apartment. Even in the chaos of the party, body heat turning the air uncomfortably warm, you crave more of his closeness. 

His hands feel nice on your legs. None of the timid gentleness of years prior when he’d touch you like it’d burn if he wanted it too much; trailing higher and higher but never under the short hem of the bedsheet turned dress. His fingers flex into the muscle at the outside of your thigh, hook behind your knees and drag you to the edge of the counter. 

You're sweating through your own skin when he kisses you. 

The need in your gut blooms at full force. Your mouth loosens, welcoming his tongue and teeth and whatever else he’s generous enough to give while you tug at the loose fabric around his hips to force more close proximity; the zipper of his pants is hot against your core and if you fucked him right here it wouldn’t look that different than the PG-13 make out happening right now. 

“Wanna show me your room?” You blink like some moony eyed freshman, glassy, pupils blown from vivid images of all the possibilities in the solitude upstairs. Wonwoo is fine with the game of whatever your apology entails even if it means you throw cheesy lines like that.

He ushers you off the counter, flat to your back as he pushes through the crowd with you ahead. Even in a drunken haze people part out of his way because of the mastery of resting bitch face only he seems to have despite the complaint putty that lies behind it. A private smile splits your lips. He can’t be that mad. Not with how he pulls you closer, in the protective way he so often does in the buzz of a single minded crowd with more alcohol in their veins than blood. 

Mingyu is standing on the landing. Girls in scraps of fabric eye him up and down, even in his stupid costume with the mustache but he ignores them in favor of pouting straight into a red cup.

“Why is your boyfriend moping?” 

“Fuck if I know.” Wonwoo focuses on sucking another bruise on your neck like no one's watching. 

You’re loose enough not to care about Mingyu’s annoyance as Wonwoo ushers you by. “Cheer up buttercup, I’m sure there’s a Peach here into charity fucks!” 

It’s meant to be encouraging, but Mingyu looks like he’s torn between strangling you and throwing himself over the banister.

Maybe you did lie about being Wonwoo’s girlfriend, but he is president and his room is the biggest and furthest away from chaos. Up on the top floor where the music isn’t as loud and the only people on this floor are other members and their guests for the night.

Wonwoo pushes you inside, kicking the door shut loud enough you wince before crowding you against the wood. You throw his hat away somewhere into the darkness, hand twisted in his hair as he kisses you. Sloppy and gross until he rocks into the softness of your stomach, gasoline on the flame.

“Turn around.”

He barely gives you enough space to do so, pressing you flat once again, cheek squished to the door and a rough pull at your waist. 

“If you’re thinking about touching my asshole, don’t. I have shit to do tomorrow,” you warn. 

On the other side of the door you hear footsteps but they pass by without stopping.

“Noted, but not what I’m going for,” he jokes. 

Your skirt flips up and a draft against the damp crotch of your panties sends a tremor straight through your core. “Share with the class.”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I’m shaking in my toga.”

“And you call me a loser.”

“I can call you some other things,” you grit, pushing back into the heat of his covered cock. “They aren’t as nice though.”

“Yeah, yeah. Take your panties off.” 

He’s a little bit of a freak. Sometimes he enjoys fucking you in nothing but your underwear and others he wants you in everything but. Maybe because of how this entire thing started; when you wouldn’t even take your bra off and he survived on the barest flash of nipple.

The flimsy soiled fabric barely passes your knees before he’s on you again, easily tempted by the arch of your spine. You hum content as he presses a finger into your cunt, then two. His other hand forces the neckline of your dress down and lo-and-behold your lack of bra delights like you knew it would.

Whatever bright idea that fluttered in Wonwoo’s brain is forgotten as he spins you back around for an eyeful of naked skin; a mouthful of your chest and your leg hooked around his hip for a pathetic dry hump into the heel of his hand.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan with extra emphasis and a caved stomach because there’s teeth and he makes it hurt. “Kiss me.”

Another rut into your thigh and his teeth are back at your bottom lip. It’s not exactly what you anticipated when you showed up tonight but there are far worse places than having a doorknob in your back while Wonwoo leaves a hickey below your ear; a perfectly good bed ten feet away but neither of you can be bothered to move much more than forcing Wonwoo’s pants down enough his cock leaks in your grip, head nestled at your entrance.

You surprise him by sinking to your knees. Head tipped back against the door, you tilt your mouth open to welcome him on your tongue. Wonwoo stares down at you; tits out, hand between your legs as you suck his cock in quick motions until he takes over and fucks into the curve of your throat. 

“Holy s-shit,” he hisses and you flatten your tongue to help him along. It feels good; seeing him reduced to so little just from the wet suck of your mouth on him. 

A choked gag forces Wonwoo back into his body, hips curving away so you can swallow air before leaving a sloppy kiss on the tip. Seizing him in a tight grip, you use the spit to jerk him off until he cringes with another pathetic moan. 

Someone giggles in the hallway, close enough you both hear. They’re far enough away you can still whisper to Wonwoo. “Remember that time we fucked in here last year?” 

“When you almost got us killed?”

Last year, at the same party, when you showed up in a skin tight Shego costume, Wonwoo pulled you to the only available room: Seungcheol’s. It’d been hot. Fucking when you aren’t supposed to, having Seungcheol pound at the door while Wonwoo came down your throat (no condoms and no hope to clean up).

“Do it again.”

His hand creeps into a loose collar around the base of your throat. You keep rubbing between your legs, working up a slick slide until your nails dig into the skin of his thighs.

“Really?” There’s no need for muffling the noise when it's his room and the only people at risk of hearing anything have done far worse. He pulls you to your feet, forces your cheek against the door and slides right behind you. Like he was made for you.

“Choke me,” you gasp before digging into the sick part of your brain that likes seeing him strung out, extra breathy just to see his eyes go wide. “Sir.”

Your skin sticks to the door, shamefully squeezed as he drags his cock through the mess of your pussy. “You can’t just say that.”

“Why not?”

“Because—”

“Because what?” you goad. “Gonna punish me?”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you? Show up wearing this,” he grits, tugging at the white fabric bunched around your waist, using the hand on your throat to squeeze your cheeks tight with authority you drool for.  “Asking to be choked and now you probably want me to spank you and call you a good girl.”

You grunt through the raw thrust at your gut, sending your head back from sheer enthusiasm. “N–not my fault you fuck me so good.” 

Wonwoo almost can’t control himself, hearing nothing but praise fall from your mouth as he fucks you limp against the door. “God.”

Someone screams, “Leave room for Jesus!” from the other side of the door and you almost rip it open to kill them if Wonwoo wasn’t dragging you to the bed. 

He folds you onto your front, both standing at the foot of the bed. A deep roll of his hips and you’re filled completely. 

“O-oh, fuck me,” you moan, uncaring if the idiot outside the door is still listening. Wonwoo has a hell of a hand and puts it to use against the curve of your ass. The coil in your gut pulls taunt as he delivers one after another.

He fucks deeper, a the hand not burn against your bottom between your shoulders. “You look so good— ah —taking my cock like this.” His voice waivers with the same stunted rhythm of his hips. 

“W-want,” you choke on spit, drooling into the comforter. “Wanna taste you.”

The animalist need to suck both your flavors off his cock nearly sends you into a fit but Wonwoo’s there, hooking his hand back around the front of your neck with a subtle squeeze. You want the stupid dress off, you want Wonwoo’s clothes off, you want to fuck him where there’s no one around to catcall in the hallway like twelve year old boys. Want. Want. Want.

What you get is enough pressure from his fingers that your mind blanks. Wonwoo gets a tight enough squeeze on his cock that he’s forced to a grinding halt. 

Then his rhythm goes deeper, harder. Course curls against the resistance of your ass until you almost collapse against the edge of the bed. His cock hits that spot like it was made for your body. “Touch yourself.”

You comply without further command. You’re wet, soaked, arousal smeared down your thighs from Wonwoo’s treatment. Your fingers bump against his length as you match the pace of his strokes. “Fuck, Wonwoo — hmmm.” 

“Tell me how it feels,” he gasps like it’s his first breath in hours.

“Wet, so wet,” you croon, arching harder, joints locking. “Gonna cum. Oh my god.”

He reaches low, grabbing your hand from between your thighs and pulling it to his mouth for a taste. His tongue slides between your digits, liquid slick with a soft suction your crave on your clit. 

“Beg for it.” Wonwoo bites your shoulder hard enough you cry. 

Stuffing your hand back between your legs, you play with your clit clumsily. Until pink crowds the edge of your vision and it hurts. “Please, please! I need—Want it. Wanna come for you. Please, sir.”

Wonwoo strains to hear your pleas over the clap of bodies. He’s worked you near the middle of the bed, practically laying on top of you as he fucks in quick succession. 

“Harder, fuck me,” you demand. “Yes, yes, y–yes!”

If you were on top you’d fall straight off, jerking tightly under Wonwoo’s weight, turning your face to greet his tongue between your teeth and mewling sensitivity. He doesn’t show mercy, continuing to fuck you through the worst of it.

“Holy shit,” you whimper, head throbbing. Wonwoo forces you back on your knees and you fight through sore muscles and sensitivity to preen under the weight behind his hips. 

“Can I come in you?” he asks in a shivery breath.

You nod with closed eyes, tugging the hand around your throat to your lips and sucking his fingers like it’s a cock. He finishes with a choked breath, flooding your insides with sticky warmth you’ve never gotten used to in all the months you’ve fucked without condoms. 

His breath fans against the nape of your neck, another swivel of his hips from the sensitivity. Your walls squeeze as Wonwoo pulls away. 

You roll onto your back with a bounce, Wonwoo jostling you when he joins. Shoulder to shoulder, you stare up at the ceiling while catching your breath. “Do you think you’ll pop a boner when your students call you a sir next year?”

Wonwoo heaves a long breath, amusement in his voice. “I come inside you and that's the first thing you think of?”

Immediately you regret the joke. Since Dr. Wagner’s announcement weeks ago neither of you had broached on the topic of what happens after graduation. Mostly from fear. But also because it’s a long discussion you’re not exactly sure what you want out of.

“Answer the question.”

“I hope not.”

The bed shifts beneath your knees as you crowd over Wonwoo, laying with his arms behind him to keep from sinking flat. The tired lines of his face look deeper in the lamp light. He’s nothing more than a big softie that wants to cuddle half naked in his bed while you play with his hair until sleep finds its place.

“It’s our last Halloween party.”

“Wow, just like old times,” you snort. “Should I start crying? Then it’ll be just like freshman year all over.”

Wonwoo laughs, his hand snatching yours and lacing your fingers together. “You wore a bra and bunny ears freshman year so if you’re gonna whip that out too – by all means.”

“God, we were so lame,” you announce matter of factly. Crying in lingerie and animal ears in one of the supply closets downstairs all because—

“Don’t rope me into that, miss ‘crying-because-she-didn’t-know-how-to-suck-dick’.” Wonwoo rolls on top of you, hoping to silence whatever argument bubbling in response with a teasing press of his lips. You're still sticky with sweat and spit and cum, nipples and pussy out and the thought of his dick, limp against your thigh, makes you sensitive all over.

“That’s former miss ‘crying-because-she-didn’t-know-how-to-suck-dick’,” you trail off into his mouth. “And you’re one to talk. Remember the time you cried about how happy you were that we were friends.”

He bites your lip in retaliation. “I didn’t.”

“You did. I have the video from Mingyu.”

“I thought he was an idiot.”

“He is but he’s good for blackmail.”

You might consider staying the night if he keeps tracing his nose along the arch of your collarbone. But a shrill giggle and some pornographic moans ring through the walls of the neighboring room. Not the side Seungkwan occupies. Hoshi’s. And it’s only the start.

“We can’t sleep here.”

Wonwoo collapses, tugging you with him. “I can’t ditch again, I’m on pledge duty.”

“You’re hiding in your room with me.”

“Okay, technically I’m on pledge duty.”

He wouldn’t stay here if he wasn’t required. Wonwoo hates party nights, especially Halloween. Too many variables requiring all hands on deck; too many needy people demanding his presence for some issue that could’ve been handled if they used their brain to think farther than the tip of their nose. Rarely, if ever, does he sleep in his own bed when you have a perfectly good one tucked away in a private apartment without thirty other men tripping over each other. 

“Well, I’m not sleeping with that.” On cue, another whimper, clearly a man’s, breaks through the tentative silence. Are they fuck against the shared wall?

Wonwoo sighs, scrubbing his face before moving for his phone. “I’ll send one of the kids to walk you.”

“Wow, a pledge escort. How thoughtful,” you sneer.

He huffs again, unwilling to start a fight that’ll leave neither of you satisfied. “Text me when you get home.”

You don’t.

There is an unspoken habit between you and Wonwoo that Sunday mornings are spent at the only reasonably priced coffee shop just near your apartment. A charming hole in the wall, with hanging shelves displaying layers of tchotchkes, paintings lining whatever free space between them, and wobbly tables with equally unbalanced chairs. It’s always packed because the coffee is decent and they have outlets. After last night, you hope he’s too exhausted to even think about showing up.

Mugs click against dark lacquered tables, the dull murmur of conversation churns over the music swelling softly through the speakers. The smell of pastries and espresso wake you enough to slide into a vacant table in the corner and set to work. 

Or you would’ve if someone didn’t sit down first.

“Oh.”

Wonwoo already has a mug and a little brown bag as he looks up at where you stand dumbly.

“I can just go…sit somewhere else…” You turn to leave, except there are no other tables. Couples and groups claim every single seat except the one across from Wonwoo.

“Why would you do that?”

“I don’t know, probably because I’m mad at you.”

He unpacks his laptop, shaking his head. “You’re not mad at me.”

“Yes, I am,” you emphasize. 

“You’re a bad liar.”

Neither of you are good at lying. Even worse at fighting. Incapable of committing to real anger when it takes all your energy to stand up straight and not fall asleep in a pile of ungraded papers and half finished assignments. Besides, you're only pouting because he passed up a night at your place to clean up pledge vomit. 

You can’t tame the annoyed grin cracking your face.  “Fine, I’m not that mad at you. Buy my forgiveness in the form of coffee.”

“Too much caffeine will kill you.”

“I can only hope,” you sigh, arms cradling your head against the hard wood of the table while he joins the queue at the register.

Wonwoo orders your drink and a cheesy pastry the size of your head, the smell of greasy carbs first thing in the morning softening the ice in your veins. He knows your weaknesses too well. 

“Is this penance?” 

“Something like that.” He tears the crispiest corner off and pops it into his mouth.

“Did you look at the study guide for Calc yet?”

Two hours later you approach the counter for a second round of coffee and snag one of the jammy tarts Wonwoo likes but rarely buys for himself. Whatever chaffs between you two melts under the constant stream of note checking; Wonwoo’s hand on your knee under the table helps too. 

“If I look at this anymore, I’ll run into traffic.”

“We’ve got the Nano project that needs some work,” you suggest. 

He stretches wide, a sliver of skin visible between the hem of his sweater and the band of sweat pants. “I’ve got practice in an hour. We can do it tonight when I’m done.”

You try not to stare and instead return to focusing on the screen of your laptop burning your retinas.“I’m tutoring Seungkwan.”

“After?”

“He’s gonna be a bitch and the last thing I wanna do is look at more school stuff.”

“Then no school stuff,” he decrees with finality. “I’ll bring mushroom pad thai from that place on Market.”

“Are you trying to bribe your way in?”

“Is it working?”

You hum a dismissal but watch him through your lashes. He looks good – washed in late afternoon glow, hair a mess with glasses and a sweater that hangs off his shoulders. It all screams ‘drag me to bed and nap the rest of the day’ which is trouble for you because you still want to be mad at him if only to see how fair he’s willing to go for your forgiveness.

“We can watch Yellowjackets,” he barters, packing his bag.

Another group eyes your table with hope to claim it the second it’s available. Sadly, your ass is firmly planted for the rest of the afternoon. With or without Wonwoo.

“You’re really trying to butter me up, aren’t you?”

“I cannot sleep in that house,” he deadpans. “Please take mercy.”

“Oh, so you’re just using me for a place to sleep. Even after I wore that stupid Halloween costume?”

He pauses, eyes glazing like it’s a distant memory and not less than twenty four hours ago. “You looked hot.”

“You made that pretty clear.”

“Anyway, I’ll come over after practice. You can bitch about Seungkwan until you pass out.”

“Fine, but if there is no pad thai then don’t come.”

“Whatever my woman demands,” he snorts, dropping a kiss to your lips before turning towards the door.

Two hours and another coffee later, Seungkwan occupies Wonwoo’s abandoned chair. There’s no reason for him to be taking an intro chem class as a Creative Writing major other than the fact he’s a bit of a masochist. He’s not half bad at it and doesn’t really need any tutoring but you get paid for showing up even if it’s complete silence as you pick your nails until he needs something.

You’re marking through his latest attempt when he finally speaks up, “You're dating Wonwoo, right?”

Red pen scratches through the edge of the paper. “What?”

“You and Wonwoo.”

What is the absolute configuration of the two carbon atoms in this compound? More red ink.

“What about me and Wonwoo?”

Seungkwan rolls his eyes with exasperation, like you’re on the outs of some obvious joke. “Dating.”

If an alkene has 24 hydrogen atoms, how many carbon atoms does it contain? Another X.

“No.”

“Oh, I thought—”

“We’re just friends.”

When 10 g of 90% pure lime stone is heated completely, the volume (in litres) of is liberated at STP is… Wrong, again. Which makes no sense because Seungkwan is good at this level. He’s fucking with you on purpose.

“Huh,” he comments, grabbing the worksheet back from your claws.

“‘Huh’ what?”

“I heard a rumor he had a girlfriend last night, that’s all.”

It's not the first time someone assumed there's more between you and Wonwoo then there actually is, your fib last night clearly fanned the flames of even more speculation. But neither of you date; not enough time, willpower, or patience to entertain someone around packed schedules. If you and Wonwoo didn’t have the same life within the chemistry department then you’d never see each other. It’s convenient as it can possibly be. 

Maybe at one point there was. Summer of sophomore year when he studied abroad in Spain and the usual substance of correspondence morphed from memes and jokes to something softer; I miss you’s and you’d like it here’s. Late night phone calls that lasted hours, refusing to hang up first until one of you fell asleep and the other finally canceled the call. 

But the opportunity to tip over the edge came and went without coalescing into whatever was on the other side. 

Seungkwan can pretend it’s an innocent suggestion but he stares you down until you crack with your own curiosity. “Who told you that?”

“Some pledges said they accidentally hit on his girlfriend. I don't even think he knows another girl beside you. Plus you were at the party last night.”

Stupid fuckers, you mutter under your breath. “We’re not dating.”

“But you guys are always together.”

“We work together. You and Vernon are always together, are you two fucking?”

“My room is next to his and it doesn’t sound like work to me.”

“How does me failing you sound?” you spit. 

Seungkwan doesn't so much as flinch at the threat but returns to the practice sheet with a smile nonetheless. 

Typically, fall break is spent hidden away in a pile of blankets with you and Wonwoo alternating movie choices throughout the weekend. Dead Poets Society (him), When Harry Met Sally (you), Over the Garden Wall (him), Fantastic Mr Fox (you), and so on and so on.

This year, you have a strong feeling Dr. Wagner’s favorite pastime is seeing her TAs squirm. It’s the only explanation for the unique brand of humiliation she subjects you and Wonwoo to. Tonight, Friday and technically your first night off for the long weekend, she decides to engage in a new sort of torture. A fancy dinner that neither of you could ever hope to afford, and even as her treat, you still eye the menu prices nervously. 

But Dr. Collins sits across the table, in the flesh, so you pull out the skills you learned in the ridiculous theater class you took freshman year to “diversify” your transcript and smile through the anxiety. 

Wonwoo does a little better; in a button up you’ve only seen him wear a handful of times when his usual wardrobe is sweatshirts and free shirts from campus events, he looks more comfortable than you feel.

“Jill, tells me you both work on Epitranscriptomic mapping in her lab?” Dr. Collins asks after another sip of his drink. Two whiskeys at dinner. 

It’s not an official interview. Not anything close to it, according to your advisor. Nothing is set in stone, even if Dr. Collins laughs at Wonwoo’s awkward jokes and nods enthusiastically to your stories about working in the library (he also worked in the library in undergrad, but used it to nap more than actually work). But it feels like a step in the right direction. 

“Yes, sir.” Wonwoo and you nod in tandem.

Dr. Wagner’s research focuses on how different RNA modifications vary across various cell types and states. It’s high level stuff that no one but Wonwoo understands when you rant about the broken Cellraft machine. And his complaints about NovaSec’s constant crashes that leave him without work fall on deaf ears except when they’re directed at you. 

Half the reason you two started speaking during orientation is because the overly enthusiastic intern asked what people were looking forward to the most during school. You and Wonwoo were the only ones who seemed to think she meant school-related and not where to buy a fake ID. Apparently, the best person to get a fake ID from was a junior in Dr. Wagner’s lab that year. Go figure.

“I’ve seen you two listed down the line as co-authors,” he nods. 

The waiter brings dessert, spiced toffee cakes and ice cream. You’re starving but the knot in your stomach from when you sat down is even tighter and all you can do is pick at the plate.

“Well, Y/N does a lot of the troubleshooting for the RNA degradation issues,” Wonwoo shares. 

Your face heats at the unexpected but not undeserved compliment. Dr. Wagner’s work isn’t cheap and the thought of wasting valuable money, money that could line the pocket of an extra set of hands, forced you to run a tight ship. The other researchers in her lab could say what they wanted behind your back but Dr. Wagner nods with fondness and you try not to preen.

“We’d be a mess if it wasn’t for her,” Dr. Wagner agrees. “The lab techs should write her a card.”

Not wanting to leave him out, you shoot a look to your left where Wonwoo pulls at the napkin in his lap. “Wonwoo is the one that made sure the parameters made sense for the last publication.”

“Also true.” Dr. Wagner smiles. “I told you, Harry, they’re my best students. Excel a mile past my TAs last year. They work together exceptionally well. If I could keep them both for next year, I would.” She says it with finality. There might very well be an opportunity to stay here and continue in her lab, even if your ambition has outgrown the place you’ve called home for four years.

The table is cleared, your plate full of mashed cake and melted ice cream with not a single bite missing. You’re exhausted. Mentally, emotionally; physically from the three all nighters you’ve pulled this week. There’d be an earful from Wonwoo about the dangers of sleep deprivation (hypocrite) but he looks like he’s seen a ghost tonight and won’t sleep himself.

Dr. Collins glances at his watch with a muffled yawn, “My, my! Look at the time! My apologies I didn't mean to keep us all out so late. I know you two probably have far more interesting things to be doing than spending the evening with a couple old timers like us.” He winks at Dr. Wagner, who rolls her eyes and hands the check back to the waiter who can’t be more than nineteen. “It looks like I’ll have some tough decisions to make in the upcoming weeks. Best of luck to the both of you.”

Hands shakes all around, and an awkward shuffle at the door and Dr. Collins and Dr. Wagner disappear into the night, leaving you and Wonwoo alone on the long walk back to campus.

You don’t beeline to your apartment for a debrief. Or even to ignore the obvious awkwardness cracking between. A bench to the side of the campus green is where you find yourselves, across from the fountain that upholds the tradition of drunken seniors taking a dip during finals when they’ve given up. 

You want to drown in it.

“Wonwoo,” you whisper. “What happens if one of us doesn't get in?”

“I–I don’t know.” He peers down at you with what you think is grief and the white noise that follows his quiet admission chokes painfully. There’s no plan B for something like this

If you got in, then Wonwoo did too. An unfounded assumption that wherever you went he’d be there too, based on almost four years of something between you. Too much to be friendship but too scared to call it something else. Something more. All the stereotypical college firsts had been with him or witnessed by him, you assumed grad school would be the same.

But it can’t be.

“Then we should end this.”

The words are out like shaken champagne, a dramatic explosion you can’t take back; a mess in the slimmest inches of space between your bodies on the bench in the freezing air.

“What?” he says.

You can’t swallow back down the idea. Wonwoo won’t let you. Maybe you don’t want to. You stare at the fountain across the green with a twitch in your jaw. 

“One of us is gonna move to Boston and the other is gonna have to figure it out and I’d rather not hate you or you hate me when it happens.”

You won’t take it back but you won’t look at him either. 

“You think I’d hate you?” 

He’s staring at you. You can feel the burn of his gaze on your cheek where embarrassment heats as well.

“I would.” You ignore the break in your voice at the complete lie. “I’d hate it if you got in and I didn’t. Even though you deserve it and I couldn’t be mad about it. I’d hate it. All I’ve wanted since freshman year is to go there, and I won’t ruin it for you just because I can’t have it.”

For a painstaking moment, he doesn’t say anything. His shoulders are still rigid and he props his weight into his knees, head bowed so you can’t even see his face in the stark street light. He doesn’t do anything until you do, until you slump with utter defeat.

“Fine.”

“Fine?” Your voice pinches in your throat.

“What else is there? You’ve already decided for the both of us. That stupid fucking program matters more to you than—”

You heat close to explosion.“It’s not stu—”

Wonwoo rushes off the bench. “It is! It is because we’ve been dating for the past three years but you won’t even fucking admit it! You’ll tell some stupid pledge I’m your boyfriend but everytime I think we’ve worked it out – that you’re finally ready to talk about it – you pretend nothing is happening.”

“That wasn’t—” you shake your head.

“It’s fine. I’ll get over it.” 

You move quicker than he does and find his hand, but he doesn’t want to stay and you can’t stop him from leaving. “Wonwoo.” 

“Stop.” His voice is stoic, whatever emotions previously controlling him locked up tight behind faux dismissal. “Just…stop.” 

If you’re going to lie then the smallest favor you can do is obey his command. You hide your face in your hands, cheeks hot and eyes stinging. Because if you look at him then you’ll break into a million pieces. You’d admit to lying to his face; that you could so much as entertain the idea of hating him.

Wonwoo waits but you say nothing. No argument, no final comment. 

When you finally look up he’s far enough down the sidewalk that the pathetic croak of his name is unheard.

Endpoint: a critical moment in a chemical process where a specific change indicates that the reaction is complete. 

Two days later, when you finally get the balls to call Wonwoo and apologize, to tell him he’s right and that you’re an absolute idiot, he’s already blocked your number.

In a game of passive aggressive pettiness, Wonwoo takes gold.

He won’t talk to you outside of class and lab hours. Even then, he refuses to look at you; talks straight around you. Any form of correspondence you receive has Dr. Wagner’s name attached and anything you send without it is loudly ignored. 

Other people notice too.

In study hours, the students notice, whisper to each other when Wonwoo snubs your attempt to discuss a batch of graded homework in favor of focusing his attention on a cowering freshman who looks like he might piss himself when Wonwoo calls him by name. All the others bury their heads in their textbooks in fear he’ll pick them next.

In Nano, when he shows up just in the nick of time to leave his self-assigned seat next to you empty, and instead sitting next to the door. You feel the eyes on you, hair standing on end at the back of your neck when Dr. Lim stutters through his intro with wide eyes at the scene.

Seungkwan shows up to tutoring significantly less interested in your love life. Or he pretends he isn’t. He doesn’t ask outright and there’s pity in his eyes, thick enough you want to burst into the tears you’ve waited to come for the past two weeks. Instead you feel hollow. 

Even Mr. Lee, the night guard at the library, eyes your solitary exit with something like concern. Even going so far as to call campus public safety to escort you the short walk home.

Your other friends try to take you out, get your mind off the tilt in your world axis. You go. Sit at bar tables and laugh when you're supposed to, make empty conversations with strangers but you don’t care. You want to go home and curl up in your own misery like a blanket and cry until your eyes swell shut and pass out from exhaustion. Eventually, they stop asking if you want to come and just leave ice cream and bottles of wine on your doormat as support.

Your grades don’t suffer, and that’s the only thing you can cling to right now.

In Dr. Wagner’s office, an impromptu meeting under the guise of setting final exam expectations and tinkering the schedule, Wonwoo continues the harsh coldness of silence; content to pretend you don’t even exist. 

You work through it easily enough. You and Wonwoo have the same finals so there's only two schedules (Dr. Wagner’s and your shared one) to coordinate for extra study hours. The entire ordeal takes ten minutes to complete the shared calendar, pack it full of final lab meetings and deadlines for grading.

And when it’s over, you move to rise but Dr. Wagner stops you short.

She looks sheepish which is an odd sight. Immediately, you go to the worst. You grit and swallow and sit back down in the same upholstered chair from the last time she dropped a bomb in your lap. 

This is the bandaid rip you’ve waited for all semester. Whatever is at the end of this meeting means you finally know if you’re good enough or not. If karma does justice and gives Wonwoo the spot in Dr. Collins lab next year because you committed the sin of wanting it too much, sacrificed too much.

“It seems my attempt at friendly competition had some…unintended consequences.”

Where sizzling anger would once flourish and bloom, nothing but empty exhaust stutters to life. “What?”

“Last year, the second my TAs found out I’d recommended them, they slacked off. Missing class, incorrect results in the lab. Now I know you two are hard workers but I was afraid senioritis might set in and I’d have to lay down the law. I don’t like being harsh with my students, not directly anyway. I want the best out of them, and I knew I could anticipate the best from you two. I was always planning to recommend both of you to Dr. Collins. I told him he would regret it if he even thought about not making space for you both next year.”

“What?” you repeat again.

There’s a weight on your knee. You don’t even need to look to know it’s Wonwoo’s hand. He doesn’t look before flipping it over when you place yours on top, fingers knotting together; holds it tight like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go. You unconsciously squeeze and he mimics without thought.

“So what does this mean?”

“Dr. Collins can’t outright say it but he’s on the admissions board and decides who gets to join his lab. He was adamant that both of you join him in Boston.”

“But we haven’t even—”

“I know, but the application is a formality at this point.” She waves a dismissive hand. “Your work speaks for itself.”

Wonwoo is still there, clenching your hand for dear life. Waiting for the other shoe to drop because there is no way – no way – it’s this easy. Months at each other's throat from the tension and for nothing. You’re sweaty, heart thumping loud enough it might break from your chest and skitter on Dr. Wagner’s desk. She keeps talking and you still haven’t looked at Wonwoo.

“I’m so proud of you both!” she beams. “And I’m sorry if I’ve…complicated things…for the two of you. It was never my intention. Now, go! Rest! Take the day off and celebrate. Send me the links to your applications and I’ll do my part so you can finally relax before finals.”

The pair of you shuffle outside like zombies. In broad daylight, the world keeps spinning and someone drops their coffee a little further down the street and curses a storm; a car honks at a biker, there's packs of students shuffling around where you stand dumbfounded. Your sweater does little to block the chill of late November wind.

Wonwoo still hasn’t let go of your hand.

“Did that just happen?” he asks.

“What the fuck.”

“What the fuck.”

Your laughing, deranged and fatigued cackles that earn several looks but on the cusps of finals it’s not uncommon enough to stop anyone out of concern. “What the fuck!”

You’re not sure what to do. Celebrate? Cry? 

It’s a little bit of both as Wonwoo swoops in, wrapping his arms around you tight enough to squeeze a surprised scream from your lungs. He’s not done, lifting and spinning you around in a quick circle before crying, “What the fuck!”

You laugh, snorting ugly cackles as he almost drops you with both of you gasping for breath. Completely deranged but what just happened that the rift between you momentarily heals.

Wonwoo sets you down gently but keeps close, his hands your waist like he’s afraid to let go. Like he’s missed you just as much as you’ve missed him. You finally look at him, and it’s the first breath of air after drowning for hours. The creases around his eye, the happy wrinkles around his nose. His hair is long enough it brushes your skin where your foreheads almost touch. His hold is like a cocoon of warmth.

“I’m sorry!” you blurt. “I’m so fucking sorry. I’m stupid and stubborn and I’ve been so caught up in this program that I—”

“No,” he shakes his head, arms tightening as you squirm in his hold.

“Let me finish.”

“No,” he says. “I like that you're stubborn and a pain in the ass. And it wasn’t fair that I expected you to just push aside something like grad school for me. I was being selfish and—”

“I love you.”

You might say it again just to see the way he chokes and turns purple; pulls you closer. He’s at a loss for words and you capitalize on the moment.

“I’ve thought about what would happen if I didn’t get in, like a million different possibilities and never once were you not there. I felt like…I don’t know, honestly. Like I was losing you and it was easier to be upset about the program than admit that. It was stupid and I’m stupid, and I’m really bad at speeches so…feel free to shut me up or whatever.”

You wait for him to process what you’ve said – a million emotions swiping across his face. Ridiculous some people act like he’s the embodiment of stoicism because if you know what to look for then they’d realize he’s terrible at hiding the way he feels.

“You love me?”

All that crying you did in the past few weeks means nothing because you could cry right now. But you don’t look away, you don’t ever want to look away from him again because you’d miss the way his face softens.

“Well, we’ve been dating for the past three years. It’s about time I told you.”

Wonwoo doesn’t speak, facing morphing into confusion before he scoffs with disbelief. “You’re so annoying.”

“Hey!” you stomp but Wonwoo pulls you closer, buries his face in your neck and squeezes so tight something feels on the verge of popping in your spine. His ears burn red as he whispers those three words back quietly enough you strain to hear them. He bites your shoulder just to be an asshole.

“What the hell was that for?” 

He does it again.

“Stop biting me you freak, we’re in public.” You pinch his side for good measure and only then does he smash the side of his face to yours and begin walking you backwards, in the direction of your apartment.

“Whatever, you love me.”

He lets you walk normally at the cross walk, your hand in his, both tangled in the warmth of the pocket of his sweatshirt because it’s fucking cold and the wind isn’t helping. Wonwoo drags you straight home, up the stairs, and crowds you against the door and kisses you until you can’t breathe.

“Why are you crying?”

You are. You don’t even realize it had started until you reach up and feel the dampness on your cheeks.

“Probably because I haven’t slept in two days and I missed you, idiot.” Wonwoo kisses you flat on the mouth again at the confession, smiling big enough it’s less of a kiss and more of teeth pressed together. But it’s good. You like it. You speak into his mouth, “I promise I would have really ‘sloppy I love you sex’ but I’m so tired I think I might throw up.”

“You missed me.” he hums, more of a statement than a question.

“Yeah, big head, I missed you. Now let’s sleep.”

“God,” he moans, biting his lip in mock pleasure. Maybe even real pleasure at the idea of a Friday afternoon full of nothing but hazy dreams in silence rarely found in a frat house. “I love you too.”

You undress straight down to your underwear. Cotton with a conservative cut because in no universe did you think you’d end the day with Wonwoo back in your orbit. Wonwoo who loves you, Wonwoo who you love back. But he eyes you like you’re a grand prize and all he wants is to touch you. But the rush of adrenaline keeping you conscious is burning out quickly.

He strips too, nothing but boxers and circles under his eyes but he’s happy. It radiates off him in waves and if you weren’t part of it, you’d throw something at him because it’d be annoying. You might just be glowing too.

You slip under the covers and Wonwoo snuggles up behind you, a second skin with his hand flat to your stomach to keep you from going anywhere. Not that you would. You don’t even remember falling asleep. 

When you wake up, it’s dark outside; which could mean it’s been minutes or hours since the winter sun likes to deep beneath the horizon early in the afternoon. It’s the best sleep you’ve had in weeks.

Everything is warm; your body beneath the comforter, where sweat sticks at your back, the lips dragging across the curve of your neck, Wonwoo’s crotch firm between your legs.

“Good morning to me,” you sigh.

He hums in happy agreement, tongue traces the shell of your ear before kissing across your cheek and chin and finally landing on your mouth with a kiss that can only be described as sappy.

“Got started without me?” Your hands press under his underwear, two palms full of his ass holding him still enough to grind up into. Something about a sleepy make out has you hungry to lay there and take whatever he’ll offer.

“I’ll catch you up, don’t worry.” 

You snicker, “No wonder those freshmen have crushes on you.”

“What do you mean?” He traces your naked sides with his fingers.

“I’ll catch you up,” you mock, then wince from a razor of his teeth as he shifts down your chest. “If you were my TA, I’d try to fuck you.”

“I’m trying to have’ sloppy I love you sex’ and you’re trying to goad me into some student teacher shit?”

He bites your side, just a nip but you flare and blush anyway. “Ooooo, tell me I’m bad.”

“You’re annoying.”

“You love me.”

“As I was saying,” he whispers into your stomach, fingers tugging your panties off. “Sloppy I love you sex.”

“Okay, okay.” You sink a hand in his hair only for him to tug it away, fingers laced together over your sternum as he strokes you to life. “O-oh, that’s—fuck.”

He hikes a leg up over his shoulder, out of the way for the fingers that satisfy the empty squeeze in your gut. Your tongue prickles with another goad but Wonwoo senses it first and swiftly works to silence you with a hot kiss to your clit that makes your vision bleed red.

The cold of the room works in his favor, pinching your nipples tight until you cave to the need to touch yourself. If the light was on then he’d watch and you get the urge to pause the action just for the chance to watch him watch you.

“Don’t stop,” you grunt. 

He eats it filthy, spit and arousal forming a wet mess slipping down your ass. The way his tongue lashes is nothing short of despicable and you know you’re the one that taught him that and you can’t help but flare with pride. “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m—” you chant blindly.

The warmth between your legs surrounds, suffocates until your thighs go numb and your shoulders pull away from the mattress with a groan rivaling porn; but you mean it. Wonwoo means it too. 

You clench harder, revitalized in the stretch of another finger and a clip of teeth on your clit.  You tug at your still clasped hands on your chest, bite into the meat of his palm and let the flood consume you with stiff legs and tears in your eyes. “Oh, Wonwoo – u-ugh. Fuck. Fuck.”

Wonwoo takes it, mouth waiting for every eager roll of your hips; completely unphased until you melt back in the sheets with a pathetic mewl.

He kisses up your body, mouth and cheeks wet and warm. When he reaches your mouth you resist the urge to lick him clean. Something about that feels decidedly unlike sloppy I love you sex. So you slip your tongue between his lips instead and spread your legs until his crotch is level with the raw sensitivity of your own.

“Roll over,” you pant.

Like an asshole, he laughs. And then he drops his weight behind his hips and you actually see stars. “Wanna do it like this.”

“Make love to me,” you croon.

He doesn’t even pretend to stifle the obnoxious snort. “Don’t ever say that again.”

“What happened to sloppy I love you sex?” 

“Getting to it. You like it when I come inside you?” Now he’s the one goading and you’re blushing like you’ve never fucked him before. To be fair, you haven’t fucked him as the man you’re in love with so it’s a first time for the both of you. Wonwoo’s drunk on the power of having you stutter through something so familiar yet new.

“Love it.” 

“Good,” he agrees with a saccharine peck to your nose that makes you feel like a doe eyed virgin again. “I love you.”

Your need for games and pretense dissolves. You just want Wonwoo, all of him, until you can’t take it any more. 

Wonwoo senses the change, noses against your cheek before kissing you. He’s still holding your hand, the other cupping your jaw, thumb tracing the curve of flesh. It’s vulnerable and soft and something you probably could’ve experienced years ago if you weren’t willfully blind.

“I love you, too.”

You whisper the confession so quietly it doesn’t even make a sound but Wonwoo figures it out because he surges into action, pulling you to the center of the mattress in all your naked glory. The flood light from the side of the building reflects back in through the slats in the blinds and Wonwoo sits up to soak in what he can see in the limited light.

Twisting a hand in his hair, you pull him down for a kiss; forcing all the emotions you have to the surface. He doesn’t make you wait. Instead, he drops flat, flat together from head to toe as he slips inside. You’re still tight and sensitive, squirming at the feeling of being stretched so thin with Wonwoo wrapped tight in your arms.

“W-wonwoo,” you mewl. You know he loves the sound of his name, any time, in desperate moans and sleepy coos. You’ll say it as much as he wants to hear if he kisses you like he is now – with something new at the edge. Something needy. “More.”

He wraps your legs around his hips, folding you clean in half with a heavy rut into your pussy you’ll feel for days. You both want to drag this out – take hours to come apart and come together again and again – but Wonwoo is already working a hand between your bodies; stroking you over hot coals just to hear you moan his name again.

In record speed, you feel that familiar burn creeping along your spine. He fucks you into a wet mess and it’s all you can do to hold on and claw up his back. Breaks you into something limp and pliant, hands twisted together over head; tugs at that loose thread over and over until you unravel beneath him and Wonwoo watches like it’s magic.

“Oh- oh, Wonwoo–” you cry. Actually cry. Tears he swipes away with a thumb before pressing his mouth to yours.

You’re swollen and stiff, muscles taunt while they twitch from a rush of complete bliss.

“M cumming, baby – oh my god.” Wonwoo bucks into the tight squeeze of your legs, deeper, harder, more. “Love you—fuck.”

He hides with soft sighs in your neck, skin sticky where you both slide together. You cradle him to your chest, fingers rushing through the sweaty tangles on his hair gently. A kiss to his head, his brow, his nose that wrinkles from pure content.

But you’re not done yet.

You wiggle from beneath him, peeling yourself off the pillows, lower half still numb from one hell of an orgasm. But you want more, insatiable and doped on years of repressed fondness. “Can you go again?” 

Wonwoo looks like you asked him to run a marathon. “You want me to die?”

“Worse ways to go,” you coo, sinking low enough to take his cock in your mouth. It tastes like you and him and it makes your eyes roll.

“God. I didn’t know sappy sex meant you’d try to kill me,” he moans airly under your ministrations, a hand at the back of your head when you show off with a nose to his crotch before sliding off. “You’re evil.”

“I’m in love with a sexy nerd and I'm horny,” you sigh dreamily, thrilled with the way he pulses in your hold.

“Yeah, well…” he gives up on whatever rebuttal under the weight of your body on top of his. Nothing he can argue with in that statement anyway so you tease him with a kiss, smile when he chases your mouth, roll when you realize he can taste the mix of you both off your tongue.

“You know…I’ll need a roommate in Boston.”

“Huh,” Wonwoo feigns. His focus is on the way your tug at his cock, spit and cum webbed between your fingers. This isn’t the best way to have this conversation but you’re both high on sleep deprivation, love, and orgasms and it encourages loose lips.

“Know anyone interested?”

He shudders back into the pillow, leaving his neck open for your teeth with a choked, “Yeah.”

“Who?”

“Me.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah —fuck—wanna wake up to you every morning.”

“Even if I’m a cranky bitch?” Your knees bracket his hips, cunt split on his cock as you grind against the underside.

His stomach caves as he responds with a thin voice, “yeah.”

You like waking up to him too. Falling asleep with him tangled in your body, listening to him hum in the shower when he thinks you aren’t listening. Sometimes he even sings with a little encouragement like those times you were sick and the only thing that got your mind from exploding like thunderclaps was the lullabies from his childhood that he cooed into your hairline.

Starting and ending everyday with Wonwoo sounds nothing short of blissful.

“Okay.” You tangle his fingers with your own, rising on your knees to distract from the sheepish smile splitting your face in two.

“Really?”

“I like having you around,” you admit, sinking down on his cock. “Makes me feel better.”

Weird conversation over the back track of slapping skin and pathetic muffled sobs but you like it. Feels well overdue.

“A-about?”

Everything.

He gives a tender squeeze to your thigh, cradles your face in both hands, eye contact that you fight not shutter away from because it’s terrifying he can see you clearly. 

He’s lost; completely mesmerized by the way you bounce on the length of him, grind back into his lap like you’re possessed.

“Can’t last—” he chokes.

“S’okay,” you press the words into his cheek, his jaw, the bones jutting from around his collar. “Just wanna feel you.”

You bend and strain for his pleasure, to watch it dance across his brow as he cums inside you again, his hands heavy on your ass, your thighs, whatever he reflexively grips in a bid for grounding, nails leaving streaks of color. Twitching and jerking in sensitive painful bliss, his eyes roll back with a quick exhale. “Fuck-k.”

You're sticky and used between the legs but you take comfort in the feeling and bask in the glow on top of him. Nothing but a pile of satisfied boneless goo where you lay with sweaty skin and heat you feel from the top of your head to your toes. “Good?”

“Great,” he hums, pulling into one last toe numbing kiss. 

When feeling returns to your bodies, you spend the rest of the night eating greasy pizza on the couch in nothing but his shirt, drinking wine straight from the bottle in celebration. You kiss Wonwoo whenever you want, which, admittedly, is a lot; a flurry of sappy pecks over his face leaves him blushing and dewy. When you fall asleep after making love once again, the last thing you hear is him saying he loves you too.

Epilogue

4 months later…

There’s a certain level of comfort that comes with receiving an official acceptance email. The words you’ve been waiting to hear since Dr. Wagner all but confirmed your future in a fifteen minute meeting last semester.

On behalf of the Chemistry department, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted as a part of…

The big envelope in the mail today helped too.

Wonwoo sends a photo of his, unopened, because you promised to open them together tonight. On your date; which is nothing more than grading assignments and eating leftover take out on the couch like so many nights have been spent already. But this time he’s your boyfriend. And after all the worksheets are graded, and you get to cuddle deep into the worn couch cushions, you get to tell him you love him and he’ll say it back and the flutter in your veins at the thought is nothing short of magical. 

And this time you have a surprise waiting for him and he might just cry. Or you hope so. You’ve got $50 riding on the possibility.

You’re sweating through your shirt from putting the new piece of furniture together for the past three hours by the time he shows up with a bag of takeout, Thai food from the place on Market where they know you by order, and a kiss you’ve been missing since the morning when he left for one of his stupid workouts. 

Wonwoo sets the bag on the counter, immediately pulling you into his arms before sagging like a deflated balloon. “Pixel got adopted today.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He’s moping. He accepts your placating kiss with a pout, and starts unpacking the food.

You feel the smallest flutter of guilt but it's worth it.  “That sucks.” 

“She needed a good home.” Wonwoo confirms and that's the end of the conversation.

Even in your final semester, your schedules are still packed. Crammed full with meetings, exams, work, Wonwoo’s volleyball stuff that you attend with posters and sit near the other girlfriends. It’s weird but not because its the same stuff you two were doing for years. But it’s exhausting.

So you don’t blame Wonwoo for not noticing the newest addition to your apartment until he’s inhaled his food and the last third of yours.

“Babe.”

“What?” you ask, focusing on cutting another red slash into the white paper.

“What’s that?”

He points at the gigantic cat tower in the corner next to the couch. It’s cramped in tight but in two months you’ll both be in Boston with a bigger apartment with real bedrooms so it’s only temporary.

You shrug and make another mark. “Oh, just something I picked up.”

“You don’t have a cat.”

“Huh. Weird.” Your eyebrows furrow in mock confusion but you keep grading papers or else it’s game over and the need to watch him puzzle together your plans is all you want. “Then what’s the thing in the bathroom?”

“You didn’t.”

“I did,” you confirm.

Wonwoo stares open mouthed, between you and the bathroom door and back to you. He might pinch himself but he flies off the couch with childlike eagerness and your face hurts from smiling already.

Pixel spends the rest of the night curled up asleep on her new dad’s lap and you’re $50 richer. Mingyu’s girlfriend is already offering to catsit despite Mingyu’s pouts about losing money.

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie

@gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire

@missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi

@writingbarnes @dokyeomkyeom @christinewithluv @minwonfairy @idkjustlovingbts

@wobblewobble822 @futuristicenemychaos @seungkw1 @horanghaezone @jespecially

@scoupsjin @isabellah29 @luvseungcheol @crisle19 @iamawkwardandshy

@lukeys-giggle @aaa-sia @tinkerbell460

[whokilledsamara]

hii!! I saw you write for homicipher so i was wondering if you could write some dark/yandere sfw & nsfw headcanons for mr scarletella 🥹 thank you so much & take ur time!!

MR. SCARLETELLA HC {N/SFW}

a Mr. Scarletella {homicipher} x reader n/sfw hc list.

{thank you for your support and nice words! :3}

warnings! : stalking, non-con, dub-con, hardcore, marking, slight gore, rough sex, violence, rough fingering, biting, cunnilingus, blowjobs, smut, murder mention, somno

{an : i didnt quite get what you meant when you said "dark" so hopefully this is what you meant. this is really hardcore. to the soft hearted people and people who cant handle ACTUAL freaky stuff, i wouldnt recommend reading this. there is a small section underneath the regular nsfw hc with a cw on it, so if you cant handle certain topics, there is still an nsfw section without it. he is my favorite character from homicipher ommggg hes so hot. id give him my name HAPPILY.}

SFW HC

sfw relationship/meeting him hcs

when you first meet him alone, he is very unexpected. his presence and constant facial expression is unnerving to say the least, but as long as you can manage that you will be fine.

if you end up "accepting" him, the relationship would be very weird.

he would be a wonderful partner despite the obvious other reasons, but dont think he wont be watching you constantly.

he will bring you daily gifts, consisting of anything he can find that he thinks you will like.

as for touch, he will let you touch him. usually he wouldnt let anyone even accidentally touch him, as he would teleport away, but one you are in a relationship with him, most boundaries he had before are gone.

he is rather fond of holding you. whether that be in his coat {for some reason} or just in general.

in Japanese culture {from my research, i am NOT Japanese!!} holding an umbrella with someone is a sign of love and acceptance. therefore he always likes you to hold it with him.

he isnt one of those "down-lo" kind of people. he makes it known everywhere that you are his.

he will do whatever it takes to please you. you are literally his princess/prince. even if that includes killing someone {he does it anyways}

if he catches anyone staring at you, or even remotely close to you, he will either teleport you away {if you are friends with the person} or kill them on the spot.

no matter how much he seems to be emotionless, anything involving you in pain or discomfort, it will flip a switch in him.

he has to be near you always. whether you know it or not, he will be there.

he hasnt quite grasped the concept of kissing or "romantic" things, but whatever you do he goes along with it. he rather enjoys hand holding or pressing his face into your neck.

he is the delulu type {this whole fandom knows it} and anything you do he will take as flirting. dont deny it though, hes too obsessed to care

he has a big thing for the height difference. he is a little over 8 feet tall, and feels a need to protect you at any cost.

any cost.

NSFW HC

what its like to have sex with him.

starting off, this man is a BEAST during sex.

he is a quick learner, and whether he is using his hands, mouth, or any part of his body, he will find those spots that makes you squirm.

one of his favorite things is you riding his thigh in public. say he was talking with Mr. Silvair, and happened to be sitting down. he would want you on his thigh "discreetly" getting off. bonus points if you cum.

he wouldnt be opposed to a threesome, but he has to trust the other person. a rare occasion.

anything you want to do, he will immediately comply. need him to go down on you? hes on his knees. even in public. need his fingers inside of you? absolutely. need his dick? against the wall you go.

he has a big dick, and luckily he knows it. he wont force everything inside at first, but eventually he will. you can take it. he thinks

he loves your body, and he makes sure you know it. even in his strange language, you can understand the things he is saying because he is touching you while he is doing it.

he makes little to no noise during sex, but not because he isnt enjoying it. he LOVES sex with you, but he prefers to listen to your noises. he would have it on repeat if he could.

you could look like anything and he would still find you to be the most attractive person on earth {or his earth, whatever}

for afab, he isnt one of those guys who has a hard time finding your clit. in fact, he doesnt even have to look. immediately his fingers will be circling that little nub that he loves so much.

he is a very dominating person, but it probably wouldnt be hard for him to let you dominate him. i say let because in no situation do you actually have control.

his fingering sessions are borderline violent, the pads of his fingers hitting that perfect spot with every curl.

cw! its about to get very dark and possibly triggering! viewer discretion is advised!

if you are one of those people who get off on your man killing for you, then he is the man. he will torture people in front of you as you touch yourself.

his sex isnt even borderline violent, it IS violent. if hes angry especially, he doesnt care if he hurts you.

afab, he will bruise your cervix and make you bleed. his tip hits so hard with his brutal thrusts that you will.

on certain occasions, {tw!!!} he will force himself on you. while it is rare, r...pe can happen, so be careful and dont piss him off.

he doesnt need sleep, so if hes horny enough then he will fuck you while you're sleeping. if you explicitly ask him not to, then he will just jerk himself off over your sleeping form.

dont expect to walk away from a rough fucking WITHOUT marks all over you. he makes it a mission to bite, claw, tear, any part he can. he wants you covered in blood, it gets him off faster.

will probably brand you with something

if you have a trauma kink he WILL use it to his advantage.

thats all bye bye!!! :3

{ made by @whokilledsamara }

[biteyoubiteme]

late shift

fem!reader x bangchan

synopsis: you and your virgin coworker Chan share a bed. 

warnings:🔞 !!! virgin!chan, whiny!chan, oral (m!rec), orgasm denial (m!rec), size kink if you squint, dom(ish) reader, praise, no protection, creampie, one bed trope, prob forgot some

wc: 3.77k

an: my first request! Thank you for submitting hope i did it justice lol also i lost the request i dont know where it went ;-; but i think i got everything you asked for

I used the line about ‘inviting someone back for ramen at your place’ synonymously with the term 'netflix and chill' I'm pretty sure that's the way the line is used in Korea. Correct me if I'm wrong lol. Anyways feedback appreciated :)) not proof read sorry! [m.list] 

You've been at your current job for a few years and every other Friday you and your coworkers go out for a drink or dinner depending on how heavy the workload had been the previous weeks. This Friday was one of those times, only most of your coworkers had taken a work trip to help secure a big account. The office was basically empty around the end of the day now, only your office light and the office across the hall was on. Chan, the owner of the space in front of yours, could be seen typing on his computer through the glass, one of the few who had opted out of the trip to be able to leave earlier. Only both of you hadn't been leaving the office at reasonable times even if it had been promised. your days were still just as long only now you were picking up the other's work while they were gone. it was a shit deal but neither of you would complain, too shy to bring it up to your boss who did in fact keep his word on letting himself out early. 

rubbing at your eyes you power off your laptop after looking at the time. if you didn't leave now to catch a streetcar you would have to walk home and you were too drained to do that. you start to pack up your things and across the way, you can see Chan doing the same, probably set to move when you did. he was always nice enough to wait every night until you got off to walk you to the stop sign to wait for your ride before he went across the street to catch a streetcar headed in the opposite direction. even without your other coworkers, he was always smiling at you from across the way waving as you left to head home. 

As you slung your bag over your shoulder and headed to turn out the lights Chan was at the doorway giving a shy smile. “I'm a few seconds from collapsing on the floor and sleeping in my office,” 

“me too,” you flip off the lights, “and I'm starving I don't even think I have anything in my fridge,” 

Chan keeps pace with you as you make your way out of the building, reaching ahead of you to press the call elevator button “We could always keep the tradition going even if it's just the two of us, find a place for dinner?” 

“I don't know, not a lot of places are open at this hour and I want to eat on the couch and pass out,” you say hopping in after Chan when the elevator arrives. The space is small enough to have your elbows touching. Chan pressed the button for the lobby, “We could eat ramen at your place?” 

You are shocked to hear his suggestion and you assume he is too seeing at how he is bright red and stuttering, “No not like that- well kinda but just the food part- wait- I-,” he cuts himself off giving a flustered sigh, “I'm sorry i- we do not have to i'll just go home I'm sorry,” chan's rubbing at the back of his neck, ears red, eyes scrunched to avoid looking at anything at all because it would kill him to see your negative reaction. hell, it will kill him hearing you say no and push him away even if it was an innocent suggestion in the first place. he really didn't mean it that way he only wanted to hang out because he liked you and now he's gone and ruined that with a suggestion he didn't even fully intend to say in that way. 

Your giggle fills the silent elevator and you bump your shoulder against his arm, “It's okay Channie, it's definitely a perfect idea, ramen sounds so good, anything warm will send me straight to bed,” You find it cute how flustered he gets around the topic of sex. drinks out with coworkers leading to his confession months ago that he was inexperienced in bed, the flush on his cheeks as he begged the others not to ask him dirty questions. 

please you're joking Chan there is no way you haven't had sex yet! your defense of him that night only makes him like you more, who cares anyway? We should not be sharing bedroom talk with our coworkers. To know you are all kiss and tellers is an explanation enough as to why none of you get any when we go to bars. The conversation moved past Chan's Confession to laughs about how their coworkers had in fact picked up ladies from bars before. Chan had been thankful but the next morning when he remembered sharing he was a virgin in front of his crush was mortifying but you never brought it up again. 

you didn't really care that Chan was a virgin, finding out didn't make you like him any less than you already did. even if Chan had been asking to go back to your place to have sex you don’t think you would have turned him down. for as long as you worked in the office across from him you couldn't help but think about asking him out just the two of you but you had witnessed Chan turn someone down before in the breakroom. The way he smiled so sweetly as he said he didn't really like to date coworkers made you try and push the image of the two of you together away. you were friends and inviting him over was something friends did. 

“There is a convenience store across from my apartment, works out great,” you smile once you leave the elevator, “it won't be too late for you to head back home later?” 

“no northbound street cars run another lap, unlike the southbound ones I should make the last one,” the two of you ride to your place with polite small talk, and when you get off you cross the street to the store to pick up your dinner. 

It's the first time Chan has been in your small place, the one you haven't upgraded since you were in college because you didn't see the need for any more room but with Chan in the living room taking up most of the couch you wish you had. Both of you seated watching TV had your legs pressed together from the hip to the knee, his body heat overwhelmingly comfortable as you ate dinner. 

Neither of you realized you were beginning to fade, eyelids heavy as you tried to blink away sleep. When you realized you had dozed off, the TV was playing a movie that neither of you had put on, your head resting on Chan as he slumped over the armrest of the couch. you pick up your phone to check the time, the movement waking Chan up, “oh no it's so late,” you yawn pulling yourself up, “The last streetcar left an hour ago,” 

“shit,” Chan yawns, stretching out still in his button-up shirt, he had taken off his work coat when he came in but this was nothing he could sleep in. 

“it's okay you can stay but I have nothing for you to wear,” 

“I can walk it's okay-“

“You will not be walking all the way home. it's fine you can sleep in my bed I don't even think the couch is long enough for me to stretch out all the way,” 

“Then where will you sleep?” 

“the floor, it's okay,” you say waving him away to check to make sure your room is clean of clothes on the floor. you wave him over as he shakes his head, “No you're not sleeping on the floor in your own home, we can share I don't mind, or I'll Sleep on the floor,” 

“Fine, we can share,” You're too tired to argue, too tired to think about the fact that Chan is standing in the doorway as you turn around and pull out your oversized sleepshirt, shedding your work top and bra off. 

Chan is suddenly frozen fully awake watching you. He can only see your bare back turned to him, the image of your fingers unhooking your bra burned into his mind before you tug on the oversized shirt. but you're not done, the button of your work pants is undone, and at only sound in the room is the ripple of your zipper before you tug your pants down leaving you in your underwear. he cannot see them but he can see the outline through your white shirt, the black fabric hugging your ass as you pull the covers back to climb into the bed. “turn off the lights when you're ready,” your eyes already closed as you snuggle into the sheets. but Chan can't move. He is sure if you opened your eyes it would be very obvious that he was thinking about you lying in bed next to him almost naked. only two articles of fabric separating your completely naked form from him. 

he swallows the lump in his throat unbuttoning his work shirt, when it's gone he starts on his pants even taking them off to leave him in his underwear is enough to make him sigh. the pressure on his cock releasing just a bit but not enough to make him go soft. He's cursing at his body for making it so obvious he wants you. You're so natural at this, not even caring that he's climbing in bed next to you and he's a complete mess as he edges in on the far side of the bed trying not to make any contact at all as he turns the lamp off. 

in the dark, he tries to tell himself to calm down but it doesn't work, not when he can smell you on the sheets, when all he can think about is that if you touched yourself you would have to do it in this bed. 

You're not even thinking about anything besides falling asleep. You can hear Chan trying to get comfortable next to you, tossing and turning, the dip in the bed from his weight making you slide closer to him. you're barely touching him but he's gone still next to you, without thinking you roll your hips to try and pull away not wanting to make him uncomfortable but it does the opposite because you slide closer to him your ass pressed against his very prominent erection. 

if it wasn't for Chan's uneven breaths you would have thought he was asleep with how still and quiet he is. you wonder if you should pull away and ignore him, act like nothing was wrong, that you did not feel anything at all, and that you were asleep already and it was an accident. but the heat of him makes you wet, just the idea of rubbing back against him sends you into overdrive. you move your hips again to hear the soft whine Chan lets out, he's so close to your ear that it makes the sound amplified. 

Chan reaches out, his palm wrapping around your hip and you brush against him again. His whine is louder, a weak, “I'm Sorry,” mixed in with the sound. Chan's hips bump forward looking for more friction but you can tell he's trying to hold himself back with how hard he's holding you. “it's okay,” you whisper grinding back into his strained thrusts. 

“ill stop, I swear,” but he can't bring himself to listen to anything he says, the feel of your ass against him is so much better than when he ruts against his pillow at home. You're so warm, so firm, and he can't help himself. Chan's movements are jerky as he presses himself against you, the thin material of his underwear making him groan in annoyance. 

“You don't have to stop,” you mutter, encouraging him with each roll of your hips against him. “if you want I can use my hands,” 

The thought alone would have made Chan cum if he hadn't pulled himself away from you, rolling on his back and whining from denying himself. 

you sit up next to him, watching him squeeze his eyes shut, hair a mess on his forehead before he runs his hands through it grabbing the strands and pulling at them. He's panting hard, the rise and fall of his chest catching your attention. You've never seen Chan shirtless, you didn't know that underneath the suit he wears he is completely ripped. Your mouth waters with the need to lick him up and down, to kiss him, if he let you suck him off it would be a very good night. “If you don't want me to use my hands I could use my mouth,” Chan whines again, a weak thrust of his hips into the air at your words. you lean down until your lips are next to his ear, “If you don't want my mouth I could let you use me in other ways,” he's fully humping the air now, fists made in the sheets. 

“I don't- I've never…” he shakes his head finally opening his eyes. pupils were blown looking for you to understand, “I want to be good for you but I don't know how,” 

“I can show you,” your lips brushing his as you whisper it, “only if you want me to,” 

“I do!” he nods, “I want you, I've wanted you so fucking bad for too long,” 

you kiss him and he could shatter at the seams from finally getting to taste you. Chan has made out with people before, he knows he's a good kisser, what he's worried about is everything else. but with your lips on him, he's a little less worried. breaking the kiss you move to straddle his abdomen, kissing down his jaw as he throws his head back. He can't control his thrusts anymore, searching for friction where you're purposefully not giving him. “patience Channie,” you say between nips at his neck, his whines in response but you shake your head. “I know you're needy but it will feel better with foreplay,” 

he nods as you work down his collarbones, reaching his nipples as you slide down his body. you lick down his chest and abs, circling his navel and following a line down to his waistband. The cold air hits the line you've made down him and Chan moans at the feeling, goosebumps rising over his arms. He wants to touch you, peel your shirt away, and finally see more than just your bare back. almost as if you can read his thoughts you sit up placing your ass on his thighs before pulling off your shirt. nipples pebbling from the air, Chan's hands fisting the sheets so hard his knuckles are bloodless. 

“If you're good next time I'll let you lick me the way I did for you,” Chan whines almost painfully before you lean down moving back until you are face to face with his clothed bulge. already a dark spot on the fabric from his precum. “Let me know if you're about to cum okay?” 

Chan nods head lifting to watch as you lean forward and kiss over where he's straining in his underwear. his hips try to chase your mouth when you pull away and you tisk at him, “Patience Chan I shouldn't have to tell you twice,” 

“I can't help it,” he moans, your fingers hooked into the elastic around his waist pulling the fabric down his legs, his cock heavily slapping against his stomach. every vein prominent, ruddy tip swollen and begging to be kissed. you gather the spit in your mouth before letting it drop down against his length. If you are going to fit it in you're going to have to take the time to stretch yourself out so it won't hurt. For now, you wrap your hand around him, giving him a few shallow pumps, his moans of approval the only sound in the room. you let Chan thrust into your hand when he doesn't like your pace but you completely pull away when he says, “I'm going to cum im-“ he whines so loud at missing his release, your lips on his thigh as you use your hands to hold his hips back from coming up off the mattress. 

“no please, please I want to cum, please,” he begs, trying to rut in the air but you shake your head. 

“You have to wait pretty boy, you can hold out a little more right?” but he doesn't get to answer when you lick up his shaft, tongue swirling around his tip. 

Chan has never been so noisy in his life, he's never wanted, no needed, to cum so bad. when you fully take him into your mouth he sees spots in his vision, the coiling in his pelvis intensifying. he doesn't want to tell you but like you're sucking the words right out of him he whimpers, “cumming im-,” but it's ripped away from him again and he's on the verge of tears. he won't be able to last any longer not like this, when every brush of your fingers on him makes him twitch. he lets go of the death grips he has on the sheets pushing himself up be rolls the two of you over. 

you're shocked as he pins you down, his face pressed into your neck whimpers tickling your skin. “please, can I cum inside you?” his cock is rubbing against your covered center, and he can feel that the fabric is wet with your arousal, knows he must be doing something right when your soft moans come every time he rubs against your clit. 

you nod knowing you won't be able to say no to him, not when you want him this bad. “take my panties off,” Chan listened, not waiting a moment to follow your order. when they are gone he's stopped by the sight of you. laid out for him glistening, you reach down using two of your fingers to make a v pushing open more of yourself so he can see. Chan watches as you drag your fingers through your wetness, and whines as he watches you dip a finger into your entrance.“you listen so well Channie if you keep listening I'll let you taste me,” 

chans weak in the knees at your words, he wants nothing more than to please you, to hear you say nice things to him over and over, to finally let him sink into your warm heat. “please,” it's so quiet you almost miss it. 

“Grab your cock in your hand,” he does as you say, “then lean over me and run the length of you in my wetness kinda like you were doing before okay?” he nods and when he plants his hand next to your head he looks down to watch what he's doing. both of you moaning as he rubs against your clit, he could just stop here, he knows just this will make him cum without a second thought but you won't let him. “drag your tip down until it catches if you miss ill help you, okay?” 

but Chan doesn't need your help, the head of his cock prodding your entrance, his hips jerking knowing he's so close to feeling all of you, “you're doing so good,” you hum brushing your fingers through his hair, “slowly push in I won't be able to take it all unless you go slow,” 

Chan pushes in following your instructions. he's hardly in when he's shaking, you feel so fucking good, warm, and just right. he will never be able to imagine taking you while he's alone again, his hand won't cut it anymore, not after this. 

his moan is guttural as he fully seats himself inside you, your hips meeting his. chans so deep you can swear he's touching your womb, your hands wrap around his shoulders, both of you catching your breath, “you have to move slow, warm me up a little before you can trust harder,” Chan nods but he doesn't know if he will be able to last long enough to make himself go any faster. Your warm walls feel so fucking good he could cum without moving at all, but he slowly pulls out before sinking back in. You're so wet it's easy to find a steady pace. 

“Just like that Channie,” you moan and Chan whines at the praise, he wants to be perfect for you, as perfect as you've been for him and he can't control himself, his hips sinking hitting you deeper than you felt before. 

you moan loudly as he brushes your gummy stop making you see stars, “your hand, use your hand on my clit,” you whimper and when Chan's fingers find the perfect spot he feels you clench around him. he gives a shocked moan not realizing you could feel any better, his orgasm so close he presses his fingers harder against you, your shocked gasp music to his ears. you didn't think you would cum seeing as it was his first time but you're right on the cusp when you hear his pants, “I'm going to cum, please, I need to cum, let me cum in you,” he begs eyes watching where the two of you connect. 

“you've been so good to me,” your words making his stomach flex, balls tightening, and you can feel him twitch inside you, “cum for me Channie,” 

he cries out as he finishes, hot ropes of cum spilling inside you making you follow right after him. The fluttering of your cunt makes him whine sinking in deeper letting his body weight fall on you as he pumps more cum deep inside you. 

never has he cum so hard or this much, never did he think it would feel this amazing. 

Chans is lying on top of you, both of you sweaty and panting. your fingers comb his hair back from his forehead, scratching his scalp until he's humming. you can feel his softening cock inside you, his hips twitching every once in a while. Neither of you moves, only enjoying the feel of each other. “Did you mean what you said?” Chan asks and you scrunch your brows. “what?” 

“about next time? that there would be a next time.” 

you giggle pressing a kiss to his cheek, “Yes if you're good there will be a next time,” but you can feel Chan twitch inside you already growing hard again. 

[propertyofwicked]

FAKING AN INTEREST

f1 grid x platonic!reader (implied landoxreader) smau

based on this request! (this may need a pt 2 honestly)

warnings: none, just men having the audacity

masterlist the playlist

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

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yourusername made a new post!

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, and 21,223 others

yourusername what the fuck is a DRS?

view all 9,211 comments

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yourusername made a new post!

liked by lilyzneimer, oscarpiastri, and 34,502 others

yourusername congrats on driving fast bestie

tagged: oscarpiastri, lilyzneimer, jensonbutton

view all 7,210 comments

username4 jenson button? what are you doing here?

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yourusername made a new post!

liked by logansargeant, lilymhe and 7,893 others

yourusername glorified uber drivers

tagged: logansargeant, alex_albon

view all 1,235 comments

logansargeant best biscuits ever

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yourusername made a new post!

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 24,789 others

yourusername lando norris fakes an interest in the menu

tagged: landonorris, oscarpiastri

view all 1,432 comments

username5 y/n out here living our dream </3

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landonorris in my defence, that place was FANCY and i wanted to pretend i wasn’t about to order chicken nuggets and chips

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yourusername made a new post!

liked by lilymhe, logansargeant and 31,245 others

yourusername y/n l/n fakes an interest in getting her degree 🍾🥂

tagged: ybfusername, youruniversity

view all 2,103 comments

landonorris that caption isn't even a lie 🤐

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yourusername made a new post!

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 24,789 others

yourusername here to watch my friends drive fast cars.

tagged: lilymhe, landonorris

view all 703 comments

landonorris well, some of us drive fast cars

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[nubsdolls]

SYPNOSIS ; g/n reader x sparring partner! bakugou, fluff, not proofread .. matching bracelets , enjoy ! xoxo, jord .ᐟ

A/N; this was supposed to be a lil drabble but this came out longer than i intended .. anywaayss. I PROOOMISEEE im gonna start posting more i’ve disappeared for sosososso long.. in the meanwhile take this, luv u guys !!!!!

sparring partner! bakugou that swears he only bugs you 24/7 to “get your ass to training grounds” because you need to improve. no other reason because of course, he cant stand you.. or anything about you, for that matter.

so no, it doesnt “mean” anything when sparring partner! bakugou comes up from behind you to, “fix” your form. adjusting you by signaling you to rotate to the side by giving your hips a little push, nudging your elbows up so your face is protected by your hands.

sparring partner! bakugou who always insists to be near you, discreetly, if he can. because he obviously doesnt want it to seem like he cares, because he doesnt. even during training or maybe even an attack on the school? near you. covering you and making sure warn you of the sneak attacks from behind you.

and even though you practically hate sparring with him, because hes so damn ruthless, ensuring a trip to recovery girl by the end of it, its weirdly the highlight of your days. hearing the ding! of your phone, followed by the usual message from him.

: training grounds. 5 mins

even when its five in the goddamn morning. you never fail to meet him there.

and after a small while of this cycle, you make the (probably) safe assumption you guys are, friends? acquaintances?..hell, maybe you were even on kirishima’s level of ‘friend’. toleratable? at the least.

so while on one of your free days afterschool, youre shopping with the bakusquad. mina, jirou, denki, sero, kirishima, and obviously, bakugou. god knows how they convinced him to tag along.. you get lost in a cute little merch store, spotting matching all might bracelets. ew, corny. who would even get those?

ca—ching! “aaand heres your change, have a nice day!”

you would.

though, you probably shouldve thought this out.. who were you gonna match with? ofcourse, it could always be mina, but she also didnt absolutely fixate on all might. but, there was, one person you had in mind..

and sometime in the week after the hangout, at the end of your—no less than brutal, training session, you tiredly brought it up.

“the other day—while we were at the mall, i saw these matching all might bracelets—“ pant, “i kinda just bought on it on sight, annnd i didnt really think of who to give the other half to before i did.. but i know you like him, so..”

you trail off, simply suggesting it as you move over to sit down on a bench, taking a drink of water, while also, pulling out the bracelets from your pockets and reaching your free hand up to show him.

sparring partner! bakugou scoffs upon seeing the bracelets in your hand. golden age and bronze age all might bracelets.

“thats stupid. im not wearing that shit.” he growls, crossing his arms. his voice a little panted from training. you were getting better. not that he would tell you that directly, of course.

“chill, dynamight.” you roll your eyes playfully, emphasizing his hero name on your tongue. “i was just suggesting it, if you dont want it its fine.” you explain casually. even if, the sentence did hurt your feelings a little.

“ill just give it to izuku.” you shrug, you guys were friends, pretty close if you did say so.

and you almost swear you saw bakugou’s eye twitch. a glint of, jealousy? in his eyes as you bring up the green haired boy’s name.

he lets out an amused huff, rolling his eyes. “tch. whatever, give it to that nerd. not like i care.” before he reaches down next to you for your water bottle, taking a swing, airsip.

setting the bottle back down next to your thigh, he speaks up again. “‘aight, hurry, we arent done. round two.” he adds harshly, motioning with his hand for you to get back up.

“come on. please? one more minute. its so eaarlyyy.” you whine, almost pouty as you throw your head back. still exhausted from the sparring just a few minutes ago. 6am and hes annoyingly productive.

“hurry or i can blast your ass right here.” he glares down at you, grumbling through gritted teeth.

“im getting uupp, geeez.” you groan, lazily getting up from the bench and almost coming up to meet his full height.

later in the day, during class training, you figure you should probably find izuku to give him the other matching half, one already on your wrist.

you couldve sworn you remembered putting it back onto your other wrist so you wouldnt lose it. maybe it was in your dorm instead? whatever, youd just have to give it to him tomorrow.

today, you were working in partners, testing out new possible moves, strengths, weaknesses, and overall just trying to improve on any weak spots.

and like always, sparring partner! bakugou was next to you. basically having claimed you as his designated partner for anything by now, glaring at anyone who even suggested you work with them and not him.

and as your throwing hits at him, trying to catch him off base with your quirk, you notice a glint coming from under his gauntlet, you pause a moment.

its the matching half of your bracelet, all might’s golden age bracelet.

he notices this. feeling his ears dust the slightest pink from, embarrassment? and he uses this moment of weakness to gain the upper hand, pinning you down on the floor.

and youre completely shocked by the sudden move. somehow flipped on your chest to the ground, arms tucked behind your back with his knee holding you down.

“stay focused.” he hisses, reprimanding you for your bad habit.

“thought you said it was stupid?” you mutter. tilting your head to the side ever so slightly to look at him. a sly, cheeky smirk on your face.

“it is.”

maybe it wasnt so stupid after all.

[letmerideitchris]

𐬺𝐕𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐫𐬺

Summary: Chris matt and nick get a new videographer, she is funny, smart and pretty, basically everything Chris could ever want in a girl. Chris finds it impossible to not fall for her…

Warnings: smut, blowjob, getting caught, cursing

Wc: 1014

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐

“guys i dont want a new videographer, memo was the best and i dont think anyone could do what he did” chris says as he sits up from the couch

Nick rolls his eyes at chris’ comment. “chris you're gonna have to get over it because our new one is here in 15 minutes whether you like it or not.”

“maybe you will like him!” matt says trying to brighten the mood, but chris just scoffs and looks away

“matt what, you know its a girl right?” nick says looking at matt with a shocked expression

“really? Well thats good for a change of scenery i guess!” matt replies as he shrugs his shoulders

“this is dumb, i think i would rather stop filming content then get a new videographer”

“okay that is so dramatic get over yourself she’s here in probably 10 minutes now so put on a smile and dont be a bitch” nick snaps back

10 minutes later you arrive at their front door and hesitantly ring their door bell.

ding dong

“chris, how about you go and get the door because you're being such a whiny little baby” nick

“nick i swear to…okay ill do it.” chris sighs loudly as he walks downstairs towards their front door

Chris opens the door slowly to see the most gorgeous girl he has ever seen, the only thing hes thinking is all the things they can do together, but hes quickly taken out of his trance when y/n speaks up.

“hi im y/n! You must be… nick?” you say presumptuously

“h-hi yeah um nick.. I MEAN chris, yes, chris” “nice to meet you, y/n”

You chuckle “well lovley to meet you chris, would you like to take me upstairs to meet the other boys?”

“uhh YES of course i think they would love that” chris speaks up as he takes you upstairs to meet his brothers.

Chris is too stunned to speak properly, nick and matt meet you and they think you are great.

“sorry guys but it was kind of a long drive, would it be okay if i got some water please?”

“yeah no problem ill sort you out and give you a little tour of the place” matt replies walking in the direction of their fridge

“see chris, she doesnt seem bad at all, if anything she seems-”

“like my dream girl, yeah, i know, i dont know what to do” chris blurts out, feeling like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders from the confession.

“um so not what i was going to say but yeah okay! Your gonna have to hold all that in because i don't want you to fuck anything up and make it awkward” “oh god chris why are you sweating, you're gross go change” he says backing away from chris disgustedly

“i dont think that can happen nick but yeah ill get changed..” chris replies, aware of his sweaty clothes

Chris is opening his door with his top only half on

“shit! Oh hi sorry you gave me a shock.. How did you-” chris says as he slightly jumps back from his door frame

“matt said this was your room, i was just coming up to check it out, but that can wait for another time” y/n says apologetically “sorry I came up, that was dumb..”

“no it wasnt..” chris says reassuringly, slightly cutting her off

Your both standing there staring at eachother not knowing what to do, chris takes a slow step forward, you do the same, you continue looking at eachother until you hesitate.

“no, it was dumb, sorry, i will see you downstairs chris” y/n says quietly as she quickly walks away from chris

chris is left standing there wondering if he did anything wrong, guilt clouds his mind but he decides to make his way back upstairs all dressed.

“oh wow how nice of you to finally join us chris!” nick says whilst sarcastically clapping his hands

You are standing near the couch looking at him standing from the top of the stairs

“guys i need to go to the store to get some stomach medicine I'll be back” matt says grabbing his car keys

“matt are you kidding? Can your sore little stomach just wait?”

“no nick, it can't actually wait, that's why i am leaving now”

“god you are annoying, but i know you dont like driving alone so i will come…”

“arent you just a cutie!!” matt says jokingly and walks towards the door

“shut the fuck up or i am not coming, dont make it a big deal lets go”

Chris clears his throat “uhh so will me and y/n just like stay here” he speaks up

You both glance at eachother

“oh um yeah about that-” nick says quietly, only so matt can hear

“yes? What’s wrong with that? Whatever i am leaving now” matt

Nick stares at chris giving him a death stare as he leaves

The door shuts

Youre both sitting there awkwardly waiting for one of you to speak up

Chris breaks the silence “uh y/n… i am kinda sorry about before, i didnt mean to make things awkward”

“no, dont be sorry, i just didnt want your brothers to come up and see that.. But now they are gone.. So"

Chris swallows nervously as he looks at you with lust in his eyes

10 minutes later

All that can be heard from the living room is groaning and whimpering “mmph chris who knew in the first 30 minutes of knowing you i would be swallowing your dick” you say finally taking a breath

“youre good, a bit too good” chris says moaning “how many other guys have you done this to”

“well lets just say-”

Before you could answer you both here keys screwing into the front door, and faint talking from familiar voices

It opens

You are both staring at each other stuck on what to do as they hear footsteps coming up the stairs

“OKAY WHAT THE FUCK IT HAS BEEN 10 MINUTES CHRIS” nick says covering his eyes dramatically

divider credits @bernardsbendystraws