#im so glad my shirt today is long.... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cup1drul3z · 2 months ago

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★ — That's MY girl | CH 2

5.5ᴋ ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ | ᴄᴇᴏ!ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

CW : Age gap if you squint, PLUS SIZED READER, power kink, cheating, modern au, new york, assistant reader, readers a little awkward but we love her anyway, sugar mommy, SMUT, fingering, cunninglings, strap, bondage, lingerie

A/N : guys im working on the stalker fic trust

The train ride home feels longer than it should.

You sit near the back, the car mostly empty, lights flickering overhead like they can’t decide whether to stay on or just give up. Your reflection stares back at you in the darkened window—smudged lipstick, swollen lips, collar slightly crooked, and that unmistakable shadow just below your jawline.

You touch it.

The spot Sevika’s mouth lingered.

Your stomach twists.

You shouldn’t have done it. You knew that the second you left the bar. But it doesn’t erase the memory of her hands on your body. The way your name sounded in her mouth. The way you wanted it. Craved it.

You close your eyes and grip the subway pole tighter. It doesn't help. The shame is thick and sour, crawling over your skin like something alive.

By the time you get to your stop, the guilt is louder than your footsteps.

Your apartment is dark when you unlock the door. One flickering lamp lights the living room, the faint buzz of the TV still running. Your boyfriend is half-asleep on the couch, blanket around his legs, a takeout box resting on the armrest beside him.

He stirs when the door clicks shut.

“Where the hell were you?” he mumbles, rubbing his face. “You said you were going for drinks. That was, like, four hours ago.”

Your heart skips. “Sorry. I lost track of time. First day stuff... they wanted to celebrate.”

He stares at you for a second too long, and your pulse races. You shift your hair slightly, trying to angle it over the mark Sevika left.

But he doesn’t notice.

Instead, he sits up, arms outstretched with a sleepy groan. “Come here.”

You hesitate.

Just for a second.

Then you cross the room and let him pull you into his arms, the warmth of his chest unfamiliar tonight. He presses a kiss to your cheek, then your lips. It’s slow. Familiar. Comfortable in a way that used to feel like love.

But now?

Now it just feels like lying.

“You smell good,” he mumbles into your hair. “Glad you had fun.”

You force a small laugh. “Yeah... me too.”

You close your eyes and let him hold you like nothing’s changed.

But everything has.

And deep down, you know it’s only a matter of time before this cracks wide open.

You woke up early.

Too early.

The kind of early where the light coming in through your blinds made everything look soft and blue, and the guilt still sat heavy in your chest like you'd swallowed a stone. But instead of spiraling, you did something else—rummaged through your closet.

You wanted to feel like you today.

So you slipped into a soft grey vest, something a little snug across the chest but not suffocating. The short-sleeved collared shirt underneath is crisp, clean. Paired with your flowy black maxi skirt, it moves with you—comfortable, confident, a little vintage librarian if you squint.

You check the mirror once, twice. It doesn’t scream “corporate,” but you don’t care.

For once, you feel good. Or at least better.

The train is less crowded this morning. You grab a seat near the back, setting your bag down beside you. You're flipping through your phone when someone plops down across from you with zero warning.

“Damn, girl. You look adorable.”

You glance up—Jinx.

Same wild blue braids, oversized bomber jacket, mismatched socks in loafers. She’s sipping an iced coffee the size of her head and looks like she hasn’t slept but somehow still radiates energy.

You smile. “Thanks. Closet panic. I didn’t want to pop a button again.”

Jinx snorts. “Honestly? Respect. You survived a boardroom and Sevika’s death stare. You deserve a little wardrobe crisis.”

You laugh, and she leans in like she’s about to let you in on a secret.

“Okay, so—there’s this cocktail thing in a few days. Fancy company event. Everyone’s invited, assistants too.”

You nod, eyebrows raised. “That sounds... terrifying.”

“Oh, it is.” she grins. “Dress code, open bar, people trying to pretend they’re more important than they are—it’s a blast. You coming?”

“I guess I have to now,” you say with a smile, then add, “Do we bring plus-ones?”

Jinx nods. “Yeah. They want it to feel ‘socially enriched’ or whatever PR bullshit they said in the email. You bringing your guy?”

Your stomach flips.

You hesitate just long enough for her to notice, but not long enough for her to comment.

“Yeah,” you say finally. “Probably.”

Jinx sips her coffee, watching you. “Cool. We’ll all be there, and a few other people aswell”

You nod slowly

She leans back. “And Sevika usually shows up late. Quiet. Broody. Like Batman if Batman was hotter and more emotionally repressed.”

You choke on your breath a little, but cover it with a laugh.

Jinx just grins at you.

“See you in the office, cutie.”

She gets off at the next stop, waving as she goes.

You sit back in your seat, suddenly very aware of what this cocktail party could mean.

And how complicated things are about to get.

You spend most of the morning pretending to work while actively avoiding eye contact with Sevika’s closed office door.

Every time you glance that way, your stomach flips. You’re sure she’s stewing in there—probably plotting your firing or worse, treating you like you’re invisible. That would almost be easier.

So when your desk phone buzzes with a message: “Come in.” —your blood turns to ice.

You stand, straighten your vest, and try to breathe like a normal human as you push open the door.

Sevika’s at her desk, sleeves rolled, shirt unbuttoned just enough to show that same stretch of ink. She’s leaning back in her chair, boots crossed at the ankle, like nothing in the world could touch her.

Except her eyes are locked on you the second you step inside.

You swallow. “You wanted to see me?”

She nods toward the door behind you. “Close it.”

Your hand hovers on the knob for a second too long, but you do it.

The soft click feels like a trap.

“I figured you’d be crawling out of your skin all day,” she says, tone casual, almost amused. “Relax. I’m not mad.”

You blink. “You’re not?”

A grin tugs at the corner of her mouth. “Why would I be mad? You practically came all over my hand last night.”

You flinch. “Sevika—”

“No one made you moan my name,” she continues, rising from her chair. “Don’t act like it wasn’t the best part of your week.”

She’s in front of you now, close again—too close. You take a step back, but she follows, always one breath away from pinning you to the wall.

“I told you I shouldn’t have,” you say, voice tight. “It was a mistake. I was drunk.”

“You were wet,” she counters, low and dangerous. “There’s a difference.”

Your mouth opens—no words. Just heat crawling up your throat.

“I can give you better,” she murmurs, eyes dark and slow-burning. “You don’t owe him loyalty just because you’re scared of being alone.”

You shake your head. “It’s not like that.”

Sevika scoffs. “You keep saying that. But you don’t look convinced.”

Then, before you can stop her, she drops to her knees.

Right there.

Her hands find your hips, grip firm and sure through the fabric of your skirt. She looks up at you, and something in your chest stutters.

“Tell me to stop,” she says, voice husky, lips inches from your waistband. “Mean it.”

You should. You really should.

But your hands stay at your sides, frozen.

You don’t push her away.

You don’t even move.

Then—

“Sevika, do you—”

The door opens.

Mel freezes in the doorway, one brow raised, her perfect blazer catching the light. Her eyes flick from Sevika on her knees to you, cheeks flushed, mouth parted.

Sevika doesn’t flinch.

Mel slowly, slowly shuts the door behind her without looking away.

The second Mel shuts the door, Sevika finally rises to her feet—slowly, deliberately, like she’s still not embarrassed. You’re the one left trembling.

But you don’t stay.

You don’t even think. You just move.

You throw open the office door and bolt into the hallway, nearly running over someone from accounting. Your skirt swishes around your ankles as you spot Mel turning the corner toward the elevators.

“Mel! Mel, wait—”

She doesn’t stop immediately, but you catch up, heels clicking against the tile in rapid panic.

“Please,” you gasp, breath catching as you reach her. “Please don’t tell anyone. It wasn’t—nothing even happened—”

Mel finally stops and turns, folding her arms across her chest. Her expression isn’t cold. It isn’t angry either. It’s… tired. Complicated.

“I won’t say anything,” she says, voice soft. “You have my word.”

You breathe out a shaky sigh, your shoulders sagging with relief.

“But,” she continues, “you should know... people already talk.”

Your blood chills. “What do you mean?”

Mel looks at you with something like pity. “This office? It's a glass box. Everyone sees everything. You think they didn’t notice Sevika acting different yesterday? You leaving early? That mark on your neck?”

Your hand instinctively rises to cover it.

“I didn’t mean for anything to happen—” you start, voice cracking.

“I know,” Mel cuts in gently. “But it doesn’t matter. In a place like this, rumors grow faster than promotions. All it takes is one glance. One smirk. One flushed face in the hallway.”

You look down, shame crawling up your spine.

Mel sighs and softens, placing a hand on your arm. “You’re not the first. And you’re not stupid. But Sevika… she’s not simple. Being close to her never is.”

You swallow hard. “So what do I do?”

Mel lets her hand fall back to her side.

“Be careful,” she says. “With her. With you. Because whether you meant to or not… you're in it now.”

Then the elevator dings, and she steps inside, leaving you standing in the hallway alone, the weight of your choices settling in your bones like concrete.

And for the first time, you’re not sure if you’re more afraid of losing your job—

—or losing yourself to Sevika again.

You wait outside her office for a long time.

Long enough that your nerves start to feel less like panic and more like a low, buzzing ache under your skin. The adrenaline is gone. All that’s left is the shame. The guilt. And the heat of her touch still ghosting your hips.

You finally knock, just once.

“Come in.”

Sevika’s voice is calm. Cool. Like nothing happened.

You step in slowly, shutting the door behind you. She’s at her desk, one arm resting lazily on the surface, the other tapping a pen against a manila folder. Her eyes flick up when you enter but don’t linger.

“I talked to Mel.”

“Obviously,” she mutters.

You take a few steps closer, but not too close.

“I’m serious this time,” you say, voice steady despite the tightness in your chest. “You have to stop. No more flirting. No more… whatever that was. I made a mistake, and I’m staying with my boyfriend. I’m not doing this again.”

Sevika raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t argue. She just leans back in her chair, gaze unreadable. “Fine.”

You blink. “...Seriously?”

“Yeah.” She shrugs. “You’re not the first girl to pretend it didn’t mean anything.”

Your stomach sinks. “That’s not what I—”

She cuts you off by opening a drawer and sliding a white envelope across the desk toward you.

You eye it like it might bite you.

“What’s that?”

“For the tights,” she says dryly. “You ripped them last night. And your blouse looked like it was about to quit during the meeting.”

You don’t move. “I don’t need pity money.”

Sevika sighs through her nose, annoyed. “It’s not pity, sweetheart. It’s compensation. You work for me. You’re supposed to look like you belong here.”

You hesitate. Then pick up the envelope and peek inside.

Cash.

Too much. Way too much.

This is not “replace your tights” money. This is “rent for two months” money. Or “disappear into another city and start over” money.

Your heart jumps into your throat. “This is insane.”

Sevika stands slowly, pushing her chair back as she walks around the desk—measured, controlled, still a storm beneath her skin.

“I don’t give people what they deserve,” she says, voice low, “I give them what I want to give. And I want you dressed like someone who knows her worth.”

You meet her eyes, and for a split second, you almost say something.

But you just nod. “Thanks.”

She nods back, then gestures toward the door. “You should get back to your desk.”

You turn to leave—but her voice stops you just before you open the door.

“You looked good today,” she murmurs, softer this time. “Comfort suits you.”

You don’t look back.

You just walk out, envelope clutched in your hand like a secret you’re not sure what to do with.

It’s your day off.

For once, you’re not rushing to get dressed or worrying about whether your shirt will survive a full workday. You're in comfy leggings, a tank top and a black jacket, your hair is messy and you look like you just rolled out of bed even if you did try to brush it a little. No makeup, no heels, just you and a half-empty shopping cart that doesn’t squeak when you push it.

For the first time in a long time, grocery shopping feels... nice.

You grab the name-brand mac and cheese without flinching. The good almond milk. Even a little candle from the home aisle, because screw it—you deserve soft lighting and lavender.

You’re halfway through comparing peanut butter prices when you feel it.

That shift in the air. That weird, subtle gravity that tugs at you, makes the back of your neck prickle.

You glance up.

And there she is.

Sevika.

In Target.

Wearing a long, wool coat that probably costs more than everything in your cart. Her hair’s tied back again, sunglasses pushed up onto her head, dark slacks and a fitted top that absolutely do not belong between rows of laundry detergent and Pop-Tarts. She’s pushing a red basket like it personally offended her.

You blink. Once. Twice.

She spots you.

And smirks.

You panic and pretend to read the back of a Nutella jar. Real smooth.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” she drawls as she approaches, voice low and vaguely amused.

You force a smile, pushing your cart an inch forward. “I could say the same. You don’t really strike me as the ‘bullseye deals’ type.”

She glances into your cart. “Treating yourself?”

You shrug. “Using my pity money wisely.”

That earns a sharp laugh from her—short, real.

“Still mad?”

“No,” you admit. “Just trying to feel normal for a minute.”

Sevika’s eyes linger on you. The oversized hoodie. The way your hair’s all loose and soft and you. Not Corporate You. Just You.

“I like this version,” she says, voice softer now. “You’re real like this.”

You hesitate, cart between you like a shield. “You stalking me?”

“Coincidence,” she shrugs. “Or fate, if you're feeling dramatic.”

You roll your eyes, but it’s half a smile. “You here for snacks or a personality transplant?”

“Neither,” she says, grabbing a box of granola bars and tossing them into her basket like it’s a power move. “Just needed trash bags.”

You stare at her.

“You’re too rich to take out your own trash.”

“I didn’t say they were for me,” she says, already turning toward the next aisle. “See you Friday, sweetheart.”

She disappears between frozen pizzas and Lean Cuisines, and you’re left standing there, heart weirdly fast, fingers gripping the handle of your cart a little too tight.

You sigh.

Of course Sevika looks good at Target.

You drop your groceries off at the apartment, still feeling Sevika’s smirk lingering somewhere in your ribs. Your boyfriend’s out—left a note about going to a friend’s place. You don’t think twice about it. You text Caitlyn.

You still down for coffee? I need your face and your moral compass. Bad.

She texts back almost immediately.

On my way. My treat. You’re getting the giant muffin too.

The café is cozy, tucked between a laundromat and a bookstore that’s always closed for “inventory.” The barista already knows your order—large iced caramel something, extra whipped cream—and Caitlyn’s sipping black coffee like her soul depends on it.

You take the first sip and finally exhale like you haven’t all day.

“So,” Caitlyn says, crossing her legs. “What’s this about a moral crisis?”

You bite your straw, unsure how to even begin.

“I… did something stupid.”

Her brows lift just slightly. “Define ‘stupid.’ Like, crash-your-ex’s-wedding stupid, or get-back-with-your-ex stupid?”

You look down at your drink.

Then say it.

“I slept with my boss.”

Caitlyn blinks. Slowly. Then takes the most dramatic sip of coffee you’ve ever seen.

You brace for it. The judgment. The disappointment. Anything.

But all she says is, “Well. That’s very ‘HBO original series’ of you.”

You stare. “Caitlyn—”

“I mean, I knew your life was messy,” she adds, leaning back. “But this is next level. I’m impressed.”

“Caitlyn.”

She softens immediately, reaching across the table to squeeze your hand.

“Hey. I’m on your side, remember? Always.”

Your throat tightens. “Even if I’m a home-wrecking, morally compromised disaster?”

“Especially then,” she says, giving you that rare smile—the real one, not the sarcastic smirk she gives annoying people at parties. “You needed something. You got it. And now we figure out what you’re gonna do next.”

“I’m staying with him,” you say quietly. “My boyfriend. I told her it was a mistake.”

Caitlyn’s eyes flick down. She doesn’t argue. Doesn’t say what you already know she’s thinking.

Instead: “Do you want to stay with him?”

You don’t answer right away.

She doesn’t push.

She just leans back, sipping her coffee again, eyes soft.

“Whatever you decide,” she says, “I’ll be here. To support you.”

You laugh—sharp and real and just a little broken.

She clinks her coffee cup against your plastic lid. “You’re not alone in this.”

The boutique Caitlyn drags you to is one of those clean, Pinterest-board-looking places with neutral walls, racks spaced perfectly apart, and a woman at the front desk who gives you complimentary cucumber water just for walking in.

You’re overwhelmed within five seconds.

Caitlyn, of course, is thriving.

“Okay,” she says, already flipping through hangers like a pro. “We want business casual, but comfy. Professional, but still you. So no more button-downs that look like they’re losing a fight with your chest, got it?”

You laugh. “Okay, okay. Deal.”

She hands you a soft sage green blouse with fluttery sleeves and a pair of black wide-leg pants that feel like pajamas but somehow look expensive.

You try them on.

You twirl a little in the mirror.

You look… good.

“You look hot,” Caitlyn says from outside the changing room, leaning dramatically against the door. “Hot and employed.”

You snort. “High praise.”

You walk out and grab another outfit—a soft cream cardigan, a fitted tank underneath, and a midi skirt with a tiny floral pattern. Comfortable. Confident. Something you can actually breathe in.

“Perfect,” Caitlyn says, nodding like a fashion judge. “Now…”

She pulls a black dress from the rack like a magician revealing her final trick.

It’s sleek. Short. A body-con that hugs all the right places with subtle ruching at the waist and a square neckline that’s flirty but still tasteful.

“This,” she says, “is the dress. Cocktail party. Show up. Make Your mark on that place..i mean if you haven't already for disappearing into the bathroom with the ceo”

You take it from her carefully, the fabric silky between your fingers.

“Cait,” you say, holding it up. “It’s… tight.”

She smirks. “And you’ve got a body worth showing off. Let her choke on it.”

You laugh, pressing the dress to your chest. “Okay, fine. This is the one.”

You don’t tell her how your heart races imagining Sevika seeing you in it.

You don’t have to.

Caitlyn sees the look in your eyes and just nods.

“You’ve got this.”

The suit hangs on the back of the bedroom door, still in its garment bag, untouched.

You’d picked it out yesterday. A simple black two-piece, nothing too flashy. Just… clean. Respectable. It felt like the least you could do—if you were dragging him into this cocktail party, you might as well make sure he looked like he belonged.

He didn’t even say thank you.

Now it’s the morning before the event. You’re moving around the apartment, folding laundry, fixing your hair into a loose ponytail, pretending everything is fine.

He leans in the doorway, yawning. Shirtless. Watching you with that sleepy grin he used to wear back when things felt simple.

“You know,” he says, walking over and sliding his hands around your waist, “we’ve got a little time before you head out for that pre-party work stuff…”

His lips brush your neck, warm and familiar. One hand starts to slip beneath your shirt.

Your stomach drops.

The familiar twist of guilt and disinterest coils tight in your gut. His touch feels wrong now—not cruel, not mean… just wrong.

You grab his hand gently and pull it away. “Not right now. I’m—uh—cramping.”

He pauses, eyes narrowing for a second. Then he sighs and steps back, not pushing, but clearly annoyed.

“Figures,” he mutters. “You’ve been weird lately.”

You force a tight smile. “I’ve just been tired. Work's been a lot.”

He shrugs and grabs his phone off the nightstand. “Alright, whatever. Just don’t forget we’ve got that thing tonight.”

“I won’t,” you say, already turning back to fold the same T-shirt you’ve touched three times.

He leaves the room.

You exhale slowly, your hands trembling just slightly.

The suit still hangs untouched.

And the black dress waits folded in tissue paper inside a boutique bag.

The venue is stunning—soft golden lighting, live jazz humming in the background, servers floating past with sparkling flutes and tiny hors d'oeuvres that look like food for rich fairies.

You walk in on your boyfriend’s arm, your black body-con dress hugging you just right. You feel the eyes on you as you enter—and for once, you don’t shrink under them.

You own it.

Your boyfriend doesn’t comment on the way heads turn. Doesn’t even notice. He’s too busy adjusting his tie and checking his reflection in every polished surface like he invented being mediocre in a suit.

You’re halfway into your second awkward sip of chardonnay when you feel her.

Sevika.

She walks in like the floor was laid out for her—broad shoulders in a dark tailored suit, black dress shirt unbuttoned just low enough to border indecent, no tie. Her hair’s slicked back, jaw set, eyes already scanning the room.

And then they land on you.

Her gaze lingers, intense and unreadable, before sliding to your boyfriend.

You swear the temperature drops.

She stares at him like she’s already picked out the weakest spot to punch first. Her mouth presses into a line. Her jaw ticks.

Your boyfriend, completely oblivious, is in the middle of bragging to Ekko about how he hit diamond rank in some online shooter. Ekko’s politely nodding, clearly dying inside.

You’re barely hearing them. Your attention is locked on Sevika, and she’s watching you right back.

You quickly look away and take a bigger sip of wine than intended.

“Damn, babe, slow down,” your boyfriend says, laughing as he slings an arm around your waist.

You flinch, just slightly.

He doesn’t notice that, either.

You glance across the room again. Sevika’s talking to Mel now—but her eyes keep drifting back to you.

Watching.

Measuring.

Waiting.

You adjust the neckline of your dress, trying not to think about her hands. About her mouth. About the last time you were alone together.

You drain the rest of your chardonnay.

A few hours later and the music’s too loud. The lights are too warm. The voices blur together like you’re underwater.

You laugh when you’re supposed to, nod when your boyfriend talks, sip your wine just to keep your mouth busy—but your chest is tight, your throat’s dry, and your ears are ringing.

And then he says something.

You don’t even catch it, really—some offhand comment about calories or how much you’re drinking.

It hits the same nerve anyway.

You excuse yourself without thinking, barely muttering something about needing air.

The balcony is massive, lined with plants that have no business looking that elegant. The night air is cool, crisp against your skin, and the city glows below like a reflection of the stars. No one’s out here. Just silence, finally.

You dig into your purse and pull out the cigarette you swore you weren’t keeping anymore.

You light it with shaking hands.

The first inhale hits hard. Not smooth, not pleasant—but grounding.

You breathe out slowly, leaning back in one of the sleek patio chairs, staring at the skyline like it might give you answers.

The door clicks behind you.

You don’t need to look.

You know it’s her.

Sevika steps out onto the balcony like she owns it—of course she does. She doesn’t say anything at first. Just walks over and nods toward your cigarette.

“Got another?”

You pause. Then reach into your bag and hand one over.

She lights it from yours, the flame flickering between you. Her fingers brush yours, just barely.

You don’t say anything.

She exhales, then glances over. “Didn’t think you smoked.”

“I don’t,” you say quietly. “Not really.”

She nods once. Like she gets it.

The silence hangs there, warm with shared breath, smoke curling between you.

“I didn’t hit him,” she says eventually.

You laugh—just a small, exhausted huff. “Yeah. Thanks for that.”

“He deserves worse,” she adds, taking another drag. “You looked miserable.”

You look at her. The city lights reflect in her eyes.

“I was.”

She turns to face you fully now, stepping closer, close enough that you can smell the smoke on her lips, the soft scent of whatever expensive cologne clings to her collar.

“I can’t stop thinking about that night,” she admits, voice low, dangerous with honesty.

You swallow. “I said it was a mistake.”

“Then why’d you light that cigarette like you were waiting for me?”

Your lips part, but no words come.

She reaches out, fingers brushing the side of your face, then trailing down your arm. Her hand rests gently on your waist, not demanding—just there. Her cigarette burns low between her fingers, forgotten.

You don’t pull away.

When she leans in, you meet her halfway.

The kiss is soft at first—surprisingly so. All breath and hesitation, like she’s asking for permission with her mouth. But then it deepens. Her hand grips your waist tighter. Your fingers curl in the lapel of her suit jacket.

The smoke, the night air, the tension—it all wraps around you, blurring out everything else.

Until—

“Are you serious?”

You both freeze.

Mel’s voice cuts through the quiet like a knife.

You turn your head slowly, lips still kiss-swollen, Sevika’s hand still on your waist.

Mel’s standing in the open balcony door, arms crossed, expression unreadable—but her eyebrow is doing the absolute most.

“Is this, like, a kink?” she says flatly. “You two only hook up when I’m about to walk in?”

You pull away from Sevika like you’ve just woken up mid-dream, breath still shaky, heart thudding in your ears. Her hand lingers on your waist for half a second before you step out of her reach completely.

You don’t meet her eyes.

You just walk.

Your heels click softly against the stone balcony floor as you move past the potted plants and melting ashtray, toward the glowing doorway where Mel’s still standing—expression unreadable, lips pursed, arms crossed like she’s both exhausted and waiting for a good reason not to slap someone.

You reach her side.

You pause.

Your lips part.

“Um—”

“I won’t tell anyone,” she says, eyes still on the skyline. Not unkind. Just resigned.

You nod. You don't say thank you. You don't have it in you.

You slip past her into the party, leaving the smell of smoke and regret behind you.

Back on the balcony, Sevika exhales hard through her nose, turning away from the city like she could punch the moon if she tried hard enough.

“You have the worst timing,” she mutters.

Mel doesn’t flinch. She finally steps out onto the balcony, letting the door close gently behind her.

“No,” she says. “You have the worst impulse control.”

Sevika shoots her a glare, sharp and tired. “Do you enjoy walking in every time I’m with her?”

“You’re not supposed to be ‘with her’ at all,” Mel snaps, lowering her voice. “She’s your employee. This is your job. You're not supposed to be sneaking off to make out with the assistant like you're in some—some corporate fanfiction!”

Sevika scoffs. “This isn’t just some fling.”

“Then it’s worse.”

Mel’s voice softens just slightly.

“She doesn’t know what she wants yet. And you're not helping.”

Sevika doesn’t respond at first. Her jaw flexes. She crushes the stub of her cigarette into the stone railing, the ember dying with a hiss.

“She was happy with me,” Sevika mutters. “For a second. She looked at me like—like I meant something.”

“And then she walked away,” Mel says gently. “Again.”

That one lands.

Mel sighs, placing a hand on the railing. “You can’t be the person she runs to and the reason she has to run from at the same time.”

Sevika doesn’t say anything.

Mel doesn’t press.

They just stand there—two tired women on a balcony full of secondhand smoke, watching the city sparkle like it’s mocking them.

The night hums quietly around them now, all the chaos and chatter muffled behind thick glass. The city blinks below like it’s listening in.

Mel doesn’t leave.

She just exhales slowly, watching Sevika’s clenched fists, the way her knuckles stay white even though the cigarette’s long dead.

“I thought you said you were fine,” Mel says, her voice not accusatory—just... tired. Familiar.

Sevika doesn’t answer right away. Just stares straight ahead, jaw tight.

Mel turns slightly, eyes narrowing. “Is this about her or is this about samantha?”

A beat.

Two.

Then Sevika scoffs, low and bitter. “Dont say her name like that.”

Mel sighs. “You’ve been a wreck since she left.” she tried to say as gently as possible

Sevika’s shoulders tense. “She didn’t leave. She traded up. Found someone who could give her the picture-perfect shit she wanted. I was just... temporary.”

Mel’s face softens.

“And then you met someone who looked at you like you were more than temporary,” she says, quietly. “And now you’re trying to make that mean something.”

Sevika doesn’t deny it.

She leans on the railing, both arms braced like she’s holding herself up.

“I didn’t even get time to be angry,” she mutters. “It was like—one minute we were fighting, and the next she was engaged. Just done. Like I was some phase.”

Mel tilts her head. “You weren’t.”

Sevika laughs bitterly. “Sure as hell felt like I was.”

She looks up at the sky—like maybe it’ll swallow the lump forming in her throat.

“I’m not used to being the one left behind.”

Mel watches her carefully. Then steps closer, just enough to be beside her, not in front of her.

“You don’t have to bury yourself in someone new to prove you still matter.”

“I’m not,” Sevika says automatically.

“You are,” Mel says gently. “And it’s not fair to either of you.”

Silence falls between them again—heavy, but not hostile. The kind of silence that only happens between people who’ve known each other too long, seen too much.

After a minute, Sevika mutters, “She makes it so fucking hard not to care.”

Mel nods slowly.

“I know.”

You’re standing near the hallway now, away from the main buzz of the party, one hand still loosely cradling your wine glass, the other clutching your little clutch bag like it’s going to keep you grounded.

But you never stopped watching the balcony doors.

And then, there they are.

Sevika and Mel walk in together, side by side.

They aren’t touching.

They aren’t even smiling.

But they’re… close. In that quiet, easy kind of way that doesn’t need words. The kind that says they’ve been through some things. That they know each other.

You notice the way Sevika looks at her. Not intense like how she looked at you on the balcony. But steady. Familiar. Like maybe she’s looked at Mel like that before. Like maybe she still does.

Mel leans in to say something low near Sevika’s ear, and Sevika gives her a tired smirk in return.

It guts you.

You feel ridiculous. And stupid. And young. Like this was never anything to her. Just a new game. A project. Maybe it was never about you at all.

Maybe you were just a stand-in.

Just the next girl who would look at her like she meant something.

Your throat tightens, the party sounds warping around you, distant and unimportant.

You set your wine glass on a table you pass and slip out the side entrance with your boyfriend without saying goodbye. Not to Caitlyn. Not to Ekko. Not to anyone.

You don’t look back.

And Sevika?

She doesn’t see you leave.

comment to be added to the taglist!

@gaptoothedlesbo @magnificentmilkshakearbiter @half-of-a-gay

#arcane sevika #arcane #sevika #lesbian #sevika x reader #wlw #wuh luh wuh #sissormetimbers #mel medarda #jinx arcane #jinx league of legends #caitlyn kiramman #ekko arcane

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foxfirexo · 11 months ago

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hi its my first time writing a lil story like this, I hope it's not too long and you like it!! ^^

*THIS STORY IS ABOUT TRANSFEMS*

you're at a party and you don't know why you thought this was a good idea. it's not some insanely big party, just a group of friends but you only know a few of them and aaaaaaa it's still enough to be loud and overwhelming. you cling to the wall, not knowing how to join into the circle of conversation happening in the middle of the room without disrupting its flow.

this is stupid. why are you even here? you're terrible in this kind of situation. might as well just use the bathroom and then leave, not like anyone will notice-

wait, did that girl just look at you? no, not just that, did she just stop mid sentence and- and did you imagine it, or did her jaw clench and her lips curl into the subtlest of smiles when she saw you?

no no no no you say to yourself as your cheeks flush bright red. you abandon your drink on a side table and flee the scene, now needing to find the bathroom for multiple reasons...

you search the halls desperately trying to find the bathroom, wanting so badly to hide. damnit why do you have to be too shy to just ask somebody where the damn thing is? it's not helping that every time you close your eyes even just for a moment you see that devious little grin and that gorgeous face- wait

you blink a few times. this time your eyes aren't closed but the gorgeous face is staring mischievously at you anyway? you blink a few times, surely you've finally gone insane and this is a hallucination

"going somewhere, darling?" she says, her voice low and dripping with... desire?

you barely manager to stutter out a pitiful, "i- no i- I was j-just trying to find th-the bathroom," but you're finding it really hard to focus fck why is she standing so close that you can smell her fck why does she smell so good fck fck fck

"surely you weren't going to hide away all... this... from me?" too close too close you can feel her breath from here oh god what is she looking at why are her eyes wandering like that

you're slammed with instant regret that you decided you didn't need to wear a bra today, and you are painfully aware of the texture of your tshirt as your very excited nipples say hello to the gorgeous lady who is staring directly at them oh lord what is happening

before your mind can catch up she reaches up and brushes a finger in a thoughtless circle against the hard lil bump poking out through your tshirt. "oh my~ looks like i wasn't the only who felt something between us~" she grabs your wrist and starts dragging you into an empty bedroom but you're still trying to process what she just said. wait, what? not.. not the only...????

the click of a door closing pierces through your confusion and brings you back to the present, only to find yourself being pushed back and falling and- oh you were caught by a bed and- oh shit she's kneeling over you-

"im glad i caught you before you could run away, kitten," her lips find yours for the briefest of moments before leaning in right next to your ear and whispering, "i can't stand the thought of missing out on a tasty little snack such as yourself, that would be a tragedy" *she licks your ear* "hmmm, wouldn't it?"

you go to protest but her knee presses up between your thighs and your words are lost to a moan escaping your lips. your head is fuzzy but you can't help yourself and as if they have a mind of their own your hips start moving, desperately pushing up against her knee, you can't get enough aaahhh

"awww what a pretty little slut," she coos, her fingers reaching down and wrapping around your dick and eliciting a sharp gasp from you. "such a good girl, perhaps I should reward you by using you, mmmm?" she grins and her eyes sparkle at you, she's enjoying this too damn much but nnngh fck its so hotttt

the cold air of the room makes your skin prickle as she tugs off your clothes, leaving goosebumps all over your skin. as she pulls her own shirt off and undoes her bra you forget how horny you are for just a moment as you marvel at how breathtaking her body is, she looks like one of the goddesses just dropped out of the sky and now she's undressing in front of you...

... then your eyes trail down a little further as she tugs off her jeans and you inhale sharply at the sight of her gorgeous dick, already dripping and pulling her lacy blue panties taught. oh my god this is really happening oh my god

she wraps you up in her arms and pulls you into her lap, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear so she can sink her teeth uninterrupted into the supple flesh of your neck. her hardness is pressing up against you now and your heart is racing like a hurricane in your chest. all you can manage to squeak out is a desperate, "p-please.." before she sinks herself into your ass. your back arches and your tits press against hers and it feels amazing, so amazing, you can feel her swollen nipples pressed against your own and you cry out with utter desperation

"shhhh, quiet, pet! I don't want anyone interrupting my playtime. nobody gets to enjoy this but me."

you feel sharp nails digging into your back as her throbbing dick thrusts into you even deeper than before, but the shuddering moan trying to escape your throat is silenced by three fingers shoved into your mouth, pressing against your tongue. with that your mind goes utterly blank and your whole body clenches

its too much its too much its too much

you feel her teeth sink into your neck once again, using you to stifle her own moans as she fills your ass with hot cum. you cry out against her fingers and it feels like your whole body is bursting at the seams and in a moment of hazy mind numbing pleasure that seems to hang and stretch out for an eternity....... your body shudders and you orgasm harder than you've ever orgasmed before

your heaving chests still pressed together like the world depends on it, she smiles up at you and you feel a little silly, your mouth dripping with saliva and your thighs covered in the sweet evidence of what you'd otherwise discount as a fever dream.

"what a good girl, a very good girl," she mumbles with a huge shameless grin on her face as she kisses your last few shreds of consciousness away

damn what a crazy part amirite i want to go to a party like this goddamn

#hornyposting #trans nsft #t4t nsft #wlw nsft #sapphic #sapphic nsft #trans #transgender #queer #t4t #wlw #transgirl #transfem

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pinkaditty · 8 months ago

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Who's Passing NNN? Tokyo Debunker Pt 2

this is SO cliche i know. please. let me... have this...

a/n: 2 posts in less than 24 hours!?!?! yes!!! enjoy, please. im kinda proud of these. not even gonna tell y'all how i am bc u already know. quick disclaimer that i write these under the assumption the tokyo debunker boys are at least 18 years old. they appear to be present at a university considering there are professors and a chancellor. not to mention the boys drink, smoke, gamble, and refer to themselves as adults. summary: part 2 of the whole 'who out of the tokyo debunker boys is passing NNN?' thing. pretty self-explanatory. cw: fictional men jorking it!!!!!! MINORS DNI!!!!!!!! not really proofread i fear Frostheim || Vagastrom || Jabberwock || Sinostra || Hotarubi || Obscuary || Mortkranken (jabberwock already written yea currently working on sinostra)

MINORS DNI AS USUAL! THANK YOU FOR RESPECTING MY BOUNDARY!

Vagastrom:

Alan Mido: Fail

NOW! Before you jump me! He failed by accident. Forgot it was November. Needed to get his rocks off after everything pissing him off for a while. Sometimes though, he manages to hold out for a while.

He’s working on a car right now, laying on the car roller, fixing it up after an unfortunate accident while dealing with an external anomaly. He lets his thoughts wander as he fixes the car. So many things had pissed him off this week. Ishibashi needing to meet at ridiculous times, Leo being unreliable, even his grades slipping. This car was just one of them. Maybe he needed to blow off some steam. Maybe he could go for a drive? No, not enough. Spar? No, he’d already taken enough of Sho’s time. Maybe… a different way?

A sudden itch makes itself known just as he thinks that. He stiffens under the car, clenching his jaw. None of that. He was in the garage. He had to hold it together. He shakes his head and continues working on the car, ignoring the itch. He tries to come up with other ways to blow off steam. Studying, exercising, anything. The itch grows stronger. He sighs angrily and forces his attention on the car. He was in the garage, for fuck’s sake. The itch continues and then grows into a twitch. He presses his thighs together on impulse, before realizing how that may look and coughing, spreading his legs apart again. He bites his tongue and continues fixing the car as the twitching persists. His face becomes flushed and his composure cracks just a little. He couldn’t ignore his twitching cock forever.

And, maybe it’d be a good way to blow off some steam…

Shohei Haizono: Pass

Well. As much as it seems like he may have a crazy sex drive, and as much as I would like to subscribe to that idea, I just don’t think it’s true. He doesn’t have a strong one. That said, he hardly goes a month without masturbating. He manages, but when he goes so long without it, it can get kinda frustrating.

There were far too many customers today, he thinks. He’d gone several days without being able to wind down, since his food truck had been so busy. He’s glad for the success, but it’s become so time-consuming. The feeling had come out of nowhere, but since the last few customers and all throughout cleaning up, he’d been feeling a little pent up. His half-hard cock pressed insistently against his pants as he wiped down the counter, ensuring it was clean before he let out an exhausted sigh. The cool night air responded with crickets chirping and some owls hooting.

Well… There wasn’t anyone around.

Before he knows it, he’s turned off the lights, tucked himself underneath the counter where he wouldn’t be visible, and has eagerly pulled his cock out. He can’t be bothered to care about his surroundings as he starts, biting the sleeve of his uniform to prevent himself from being heard. Unfortunately, some light, breathy groans escape through the fabric of his shirt, but the noise mingles well with the pap pap pap sound of his hand over his cock and the shuffling sound of his legs opening and closing, overwhelmed with pleasure. His body shakes as he releases, careful to catch it in his palms, not wanting to have to clean again. When clarity finally hits, he sighs and shakes his head, observing his mess. God, how many sanitation laws did he just break?

And… did he remember to close the window?

Leo Kurosagi: Pass (Miserably)

Had to be clear. Yes, he passes, but barely, and miserably so. He’s doing it for clout and he’s posting about it, too. He’s letting his fans run wild with speculation at his announcement and letting them make all the claims they want when he successfully completes it. However, I’m quite confident that the second it was December 1st, Leo couldn’t fucking stand it anymore.

November 31st, 11:59pm. He lays on his bed with a half-hard cock pressing unyieldingly against his boxers and his phone in his hand with a drafted post congratulating himself for completing NNN, ready to be sent the moment that clock hit December 1st, 12:00am. He keeps his eyes fixated on the time, letting his hand drift downwards and hold himself through his pajama pants. The time still hasn’t changed. He gives himself a light squeeze, and is shocked at the needy sigh that passes through his lips. Fuck, he just needed this time to change. He just needed this time to change. He bites his lip, keeping the pressure on his cock as he gently strokes through his pants. He shifts his legs around, progressively getting more and more antsy as he stared at the time. 11:59 still. Who knew a minute could last so fucking long? He continues stroking gently, getting himself to full mast, twitching the entire time.

Just as he’s about to give up, the time changes. 12:00am at last. He hurriedly presses “Post” and practically tosses his phone to the side, reaching inside his pajama pants and boxers to wrap a hand around his stiffened cock. He wastes no time in stroking, surprising even himself with his needy whines and unintelligible phrases and throaty moans. He spreads his legs apart and grips his thigh with his free hand, speeding up his pace. He moans through gritted teeth before his eyes roll back and his jaw goes slack, yielding a strangled moan as he covers his hands and pajamas with his release. He allows his legs to collapse on the bed, and picks up his phone again, checking his post.

1k likes, 200 comments. It was 12:01am. Sheesh, that didn’t take him long at all…

a/n: wowee! i spit this out at 2am yesterday and fine-tuned it 2day so enjoy. eat this. i will be back 2 post jabberwock's soon, hopefully.

note that, as per usual, i enjoy likes, comments, and reblogs!! please tell me how much you enjoyed my work!

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paigebueckersmommy · 1 year ago

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nervous - p.b

paige bueckers x fem!reader

warnings: smut??? fingering, virgin

requested by anon

you and paige’s relashionship was sneaking up on 6 months, and still hadn’t gotten past a heated makeout shesh. you knew paige wasn’t a virgin, and she knew you were and didn’t have a problem with it. your consent was her biggest priority, and you just hadn’t thought you were ready. with paige, all your problems went away and your own u loved when your lips were on hers, so you felt you were ready with paige.

you had thought long and hard about your decision to do this, so when paige asked to come over, you got excited and tried to prepare yourself for your first time with paige.

when she texted that she was there, you had a huge smile on your face as you buzzed her into your aparentment, you opened the door and pulled her into a hug with your head in the crook of her neck. “hi baby” she pulled away from your face as she said it with a smile looking at your huge grin. “you’re extra happy today what’s up ma?” paige said with a little giggle. you looks her in her beautiful eyes, and took a deep breath. “P i’m ready.” “oh, sweetheart are you sure? like 100%? this is a big thing,” paige said with the sweet voice you loved

“yes P i’m sure i love you so much and i wouldn’t want to do this with anyone but you.” you say lookin up at her. “okay baby” paige says with a smile, leading you to your bedroom. you sit down on the bed and paige lowers herself to your level, “mamas are sure your 100% you want this?” “yes paige i am 11% sure” you say giggling, “okay baby, can you take this off for me?” paige says grazing the fabric on your shirt. you follow her request, and she didn’t ask for it, but you take off your bra too.

“sweetheart i’m gonna finger you, is that okay?” paige said with such genuine eyes. “of course that’s okay baby.” you say, realizing the feelings your having. paige starts to take of your pants, as you suddenly stop her. “paige i’m nervous” you say. it wasn’t that paige made you nervous, it was just the fact that someone other than you would be doing this. “why did i do something wrong im so sorry” paige said with such innocent eyes. “no paige it’s not you , i just, i don’t know. but i defitnelu want to do this.” “okay my love. we can go as slow as you need me to for you to be comfortable.” paige said, with a look of worry. “okay paige i’m ready please do it.” paige looks at you before continuing to take off your pants and stick two of her veiny digits inside of you as you close your eye and breath out, she looks at you. “tell me when you want me to start moving baby no rush.” you start to gain more need.

“move please paige,” she starts to move her finger slowly pumping them “are you okay ma?” paige says. “yes fuck P please go faster,” “your wish is my command,” paige says with a cocky undertone. she starts pumpkin faster as you feel yourself start to clench. “fuck P i’m close i’m gonna cum” you say through breathy moans “cum for me princess” paige says as she watches you release under her with a grin.

after you recover from your orgasm, your still without a article of clothing on when paige is laying to you. “fuck if i knew you were that good i would’ve been ready a while ago.” you say. paige giggles, then breathes out, “baby im so proud of you you did so good for me. i’m glad that you felt safe enough to do with me it means a lot.”

a/n : i hate this so much

#paige bueckers #uconn wbb #paige bueckers smut #paige buckets #paige bueckers x reader

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nottivagos · 5 months ago

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syn: Mechanic!Danny gives you a lift home after seeing you drenched at the bus stop after work.

wc: 2.1k

an: MECHANIC DANNY FLUFF!! this scene has been stuck in my head for a while, im just glad i finally wrote it!

taglist: @orangeblossomsintheair

Everything just seemed to be not on your side today.

A busy day at the workshop brought struggles of its own for a start. Endless amounts of paperwork, filing and invoices had to be done, the droning rings and buzzes of the office telephone nearly every five minutes which was then followed by clients barking their demands for MOTs and services only for you to scribble down pathetically and messily, to the annoyed grunts and angry orders from Danny and the others made you want to melt into the floor and never emerge up ever again.

It didn’t help that you’d become so absorbed with work and getting everything done that you’d missed your typical bus that you’d usually get at the end of the day. At this point, you were at your breaking point. Whilst standing at the bus stop, your blurry, tearful vision showed that as you gulped your stressed sorrows away.

Minutes droned on as you waited impatiently for your bus to arrive. You were agitated and emotional, the mixture of pent-up stress from the long week made a nice cocktail bomb of emotions ready to burst at any moment.

Then the rain came. How great.

If you didn’t expect your day to get any worse, this was the final nail in the coffin. The small, unnoticeable pitter patters soon thundered down onto the glass shelter as you tried your best to take cover underneath it whilst trying to maintain warmth in your flimsy coat during the torrential downpour, which you silently begged to end as soon as possible.

Droplets relentlessly trickled off the edge of the bus stop, the water dripping down hitting your scalp and dampening your perfect hairstyle with no mercy whatsoever. So much for styling it this morning, huh?

At this point, you were hoping for a miracle. Now nearly completely drenched to the bone, and unable to catch a ride home due to the incompetent bus service that carried out through your little town, you silently prayed someone would drive past, feel some sort of pity for you, and offer you a life home.

However, that ‘saviour’ wasn’t someone who you’d suspect it to be. After all, not all heroes wear capes. Or in this instance, they wear dirty work polo shirts that don’t fit them as well as they used to.

After finally locking up his garage, ending his long day of mechanic hell, Daniel was driving home when he noticed a shivering figure waiting hopelessly in the bus shelter close to the garage. As he drove closer, his windscreen wipers violently swiped the water from his glass just so he could make out yourself shivering like a lost puppy in the rain due to the weather’s dramatic change in climate.

At first, he was hesitant to give you a lift home. Gritting his teeth slightly, his expression hardened. He’d already had enough of you and your shenanigans for one day whilst in work, but there was something inside of him nagging for him to show you a meagre inch of kindness in asking you if you needed a lift home.

Taking a short drag of his cigarette to try and compose himself, his other hand maintained control over the steering wheel. Whilst driving closer and closer to you, the cars he seemed to be in convoy with ultimately determined his decision in whether he should offer you a ride home or not.

Mercilessly, the cars that sped past you splashed through a large puddle that had formed next to the curb due to the rainfall. The impact of them driving through it caused a rather large gush of water to drown you even more than you already were.

Danny’s grip on the steering wheel slightly tightened as he pressed down on the accelerator pedal a little too much just to express his irritation at the prickish drivers before him. He then quickly regained some composure, before abruptly swerving into the bus lane. The sight of the random car speeding into the bus lane made you jump slightly.

A rolled down window followed, before you were met with your seething boss with a cigarette wedged in between his teeth looking at you with a knowing look. “Well, are you gettin’ in or what?” His voice was rude and blunt, despite it holding some genuine care in it, his eyebrow raising as you made eye contact with him.

“Come on sugar, I ain’t got all day!” Danny exclaimed as you replied with a swift nod, scrambling from the rainy outside to the warmth of his car, as you pulled the door open and plopped into the dirty passenger side with a relieved sigh.

The interior of Danny’s car was well… messy. Hell, ‘messy’ was an understatement. Oil and grime were smeared on the glove boxes and armrests, littered receipts and other sorts of work manuals scattered the vehicle’s floor, the stagnant stench of past smoked cigarettes seeped into the seats and dust collected over the years made you choke slightly as he pulled the car off from the curb.

“Don’t mind the mess,” Danny grumbled dryly, noticing a small grimace that had formed on your face. “I’m planning on cleanin’ it this weekend,” he obviously lied through his teeth, whilst eyes fixed on the road ahead.

“It’s fine, honestly,” you reassured him with an awkward smile, posture tensing as you sat on the worn and aged passenger seat.

For the first few minutes, the journey was awkward to say the least. Surprisingly enough, Danny had some courtesy despite his lack of it in the garage. He’d turned down his loud rock music when you’d entered the car, so you were left with a palpable silence you could’ve been able to cut through with a knife.

You shifted a couple of times in your seat uncomfortably as Danny took small yet long drags from his cigarette. The pull out cup holder had become a makeshift ashtray over the years, you inferred. Danny’s ex wife has always hated his smoking, (which Danny was very vocal about whenever you yourself complained or expressed your concerns) and just ‘mess’ in general, but it seemed ever since she’d left that he’d accumulated enough mess in his car that only five (or maybe even more) ‘deep cleans’ would fix.

“So,” Danny broke the silence as he began gruffly, “Where are you heading?”

“Home,” you quickly replied, “I missed my bus and it started to rain.”

“I figured,” he grumbled in response, obviously unamused by you stating the obvious. “Where do you live?” he asked, his voice a little softer than usual, taking a brief glance at you. “I can drop you off. Only if you’d like. It’s no problem.”

A small blush burnt your cheeks at the gesture. “It’s not that far from here,” you began with a soft smile, matching his short-lived glance. “Just up these two streets and then you take a left,” you guided with a hand gesture which Danny followed with a little huff and a small smile himself.

“Didn’t expect you to be a local girl,” he commented lowly underneath his breath, nodding in acknowledgement.

Another awkward silence followed, the hums and roars of Danny’s car engine and the whirring of the heaters blasting hot air onto you both acted like white noise for those uneventful moments.

“Thank you, by the way,” your mumble broke the silence, the apple of your cheeks still a subtle pink colour. “If it wasn’t for you I probably would’ve been waiting for ages,” you added with a small chuckle, trying to downplay your predicament.

“It’s not a problem, really,” he chuckled with a nonchalant shrug. “Always happy to help if you need it, pet.”

There it was again. The nickname. You’d never fully understood the origins of why Daniel called it you so often, other for reasons of harmless endearment purposes or for slight degradation due to the fact that you were the only woman who worked in the garage, but God did it make your insides flip and become fuzzy.

“Are you pretty local then too?” You asked as he continued to navigate through the worsening conditions of the roads and weather.

A short scoff followed. “Born and bred, princess,” he muttered before he pressed the dying butt of his cigarette against the plastic tray. “I never left, actually,” he added as you followed his moments, “never saw any reason to.” He joked half-heartedly, as you noticed his pudgy belly confined by his seatbelt.

As well as this, you couldn’t help but notice his burly, large tattooed arms that revealed themselves as his work polo rode up his bicep. The most noticeable to you was his left side, which showed his rose tattoo on his left hand, and the cupid on his forearm hidden by some unruly hairs now, but you couldn’t help but notice a woman’s name hidden underneath the fabric riding up his bicep whenever his muscles flexed slightly whilst gripping the wheel.

You knew you shouldn’t ask. It seemed wrong to ask. But as stupidly curious as you were, you did anyways.

“Who’s that woman written on the bottom of your bicep?” The question itself was innocent enough, however the response that followed from Danny surely wasn’t.

As soon as you watched Daniel’s jaw lock into place, (undoubtedly from the annoyance and irritation that having this woman’s name tatted on his arm brang), the tense muscles that followed as he got the steering wheel into a death grip, his knuckles going white from the intensity of his clasp on it, you knew you’d messed up.

Frowning upon his reaction, your eyebrows furrowed in sympathy, as you felt terrible for asking. “I’m sor—”

“Don’t.”

Your lips pursed shut as you stayed silent. Gulping nervously, you kept your eyes glued on the road ahead, not wanting to make eye contact with Danny. In that moment a pit of dread formed in your stomach, you thought for sure that he was about to slam the brakes and make you walk home in the rain, but instead, he stayed dangerously silent.

Danny, however, after a few moments, sighed. He couldn't stay mad at you for your curiosity, and it wasn't like you wouldn't find out one way or another.

“It's my ex missus,” Danny replied reluctantly, brushing a large hand through his messy mullet. “I got it in our early days,” he added, his hand coming down to scratch his beard before glancing at you again, “drunken mistake, actually.”

Oh. So that was the ex wife.

“I'm so sorry, Daniel,” you apologised softly, looking up at him. “I-I- didn't know,” you continued, your voice remorseful and shaky as you whispered.

Daniel sighed again at the sight of you. Something about your expression just made his hard exterior melt away, his eyes widen slightly as his gaze softened. It was different than when he was with his ex. He felt purer, with less of a need to be angry or rude. He felt at ease.

“Hey,” his voice was a gentle whisper, glancing over at you for a moment before he placed a reassuring hand on your thigh. “It's alright, darlin’, you didn't know,” he added, his thumb rubbing soothingly across your clothed thigh.

“Yeah– But–”

“But nothing,” he said with a smile, a genuine reassuring one as he squeezed your thigh, whilst he turned into your street. “You didn't know, and that's alright.”

In that moment, you felt your cheeks burn again, your ears pricked hot as your insides flurried happily. “This one's mine,” you pointed out your house with a small smile to Danny as he pulled up on the side of the curb.

“Thank you for the lift,” you broke the silence as you faced him after unbuckling your seat belt. “I really appreciate it,” you added with a soft smile.

Danny chuckled, the creases on his face more distinct as he smiled back at you. “It was my pleasure, princess,” he said as he withdrew his hand from your thigh. “Anytime you need a lift, call me,” he added with a slightly cheesy wink, which made you giggle in response.

In a flash, you pressed your lips against Danny's, feeling him tense at the abrupt action before coming to cup your cheeks when he eventually melted into the gesture. You pulled away with a sweet smile on your lips, watching Danny pant softly from the passion in the gesture.

“Goodnight, Danny,” you whispered gently as you moved away from him in the driver's seat and out of the car. “See you on Monday,” you added with a bat of your eyelashes, “and drive safely home, please.”

“A-always,” Danny responded, dumbfounded as his wide eyes watched you walk into your house after giving him a wave goodbye. He ran his thumb over his lips, still completely flustered by the fact that you'd kissed him as he sat in silence for a few moments outside your house, trying to recollect his thoughts. <3

like mechanic!danny? fancy sending me an ask in my ask box so you can be added to my notebook! - notti <3

128 notes · View notes

anemoiadawn · 3 months ago

Note

hiii! can i request for a top!male manager/reader x bang chan and han jisung? preferably with double pen OR spitroasting scene, you can decide who gets to bottom as long as M reader is one of the tops (or both of the members trying to fight who bottoms bcs they like reader’s dick but only one gets to bottom)

thank you!! im glad there’s one more M!reader writer here 😞

< under you >

pairing:: bang chan x han jisung x top!male manager reader genre:: smut, slow burn (if ur used to it getting straight to the point) word count:: 10238 summary:: you’re skz’s main manager. they’ve secretly all been pining for you, chan and jisung more than the rest. after you tease chan a little too much one night, it all comes to light. warnings:: smut !!! chan is pathetic. puppy chan. spitroasting. unprotected sex. praise. misuse of honorifics ++ age dynamic. crying . light bondage . notes:: i am SO sorry. this request has been collecting dust in my inbox for almost a full year and i finally finished it. i hope this is worth the wait<3 i love the likes, but if you guys have any comments feel free to share :3 i love the little notes you guys left on the last one

3RACHA overwork. You know this. They know this. The past couple of weeks, while they’ve supposed to be on break, the three producers have been grinding away in the studio. You’re worried about them– especially Chan, who will stay in the studio until the sun rises. So you’re sitting back on the couch, in Chan's studio, making sure the three boys don’t work too hard.

Chan’s focused, his brow furrowed and his lips pulled into a tight pout as he messes with the demos. Jisung’s sitting next to you, typing lyrics on his phone as Chan plays the tracks out loud. Changbin, sitting on the ground against Chan's desk, groans at a text.

“Agh, god.” Changbin stands up, stretching his arms. “I forgot I made plans with Hyune tonight. Can you guys deal without me?” You hold back a laugh and Chan leans back in his chair, looking at Changbin upside down.

“Yeah, we’ll be fine. Have fun with your wife.” Chan smiles and Jisung giggles. Changbin flicks Chan’s forehead and unplugs his charger.

“You’re just jealous, hyung.” Changbin sticks out his tongue, walking towards the door and ruffling Jisung's hair. “Bye, Sungie.”

“Bye, hyung.” Jisung reaches up and squeezes Changbin’s hand. Changbin opens the door and walks out, shutting the door behind him. Chan pauses the track and stretches his arms high over his head, his shirt riding up to reveal a sliver of his abs.

“Well, I think we’ve made a lot of progress today. My brain’s starting to go numb.” Chan sighs, making a groaning noise that ignites a flame deep inside your stomach. You tongue the inside of your cheek, staring intently at the exposed sliver of Chan’s pale skin. You shake it off, taking a deep breath, looking up at Chan's face.

“You all have done really well today,” you slowly work through your words. “Don’t stress about it, you can get back to it tomorrow if that’s what you want to spend your free time on.” Chan spins around in his chair, giving a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Don’t worry about me. I'm not stressed, just a little tired. I'm going to stay here and work on some other tracks, in case you want to stick around. Jisungie?” Jisung perks up, looking up from his phone.

“Yeah, I'm gonna stay. I like the company.” Jisung looks over at you, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Y/Nie hyung?” You smile, patting Jisung's thigh.

“I'll stay. As long as I'm not a bother.” Chan shakes his head, smiling shyly.

“You could never be a bother, Y/Nie hyung. You know that.” Chan says softly, stretching again. This time his shirt rides up even higher, revealing more of his skin. “Agghh. I've been sitting for too long. That feels good.” Chan stands up, closing his eyes and stretching his legs out. You huff, averting your eyes.

“Stretching? Or do you just like showing your skin, Chan?” You stare off to the side of Chan. He blushes and glances down, not having realized that his shirt had ridden up.

“Ah– sorry. I didn't mean– sorry.” Chan yanks his shirt down, hiding away that tantalizing strip of skin. You chuckle, running a hand through your hair.

“No worries. You’re okay.” It's cute, you think. He's so confident on stage, stripping every other performance, but he blushes when his stomach shows accidentally around friends. Chan rubs the back of his neck, sitting back down. He has a small, embarrassed smile on his face and his ears are bright red. Chan clears his throat, turning back around in his chair.

“Right. Well. Let’s get back to work, yeah?” Chan’s voice wavers, his face hidden from you. Jisung looks between you and Chan, a smirk growing on his face. You glare at him playfully, warning him to keep his mouth shut. Jisung chuckles and raises his hands in defeat, shooting a knowing smile at you. You flip him off behind Chan’s back and Jisung bursts out into a giggling fit, slapping your hand down.

Jisung hops up, kneeling down next to Chan and pointing at a track on Chan’s laptop. “Hyung, what’s this one?” Your interest is piqued, looking up over Chan’s shoulder to see Jisung pointing to a file called ‘Under You.’ You can see Chan visibly stiffen, his ears blushing pink.

“Ah, that’s– that’s just something I've been working on for fun. I won't make it a Stray Kids song. It’s not finished, but it’s coming along okay, I think.” He turns slightly to face Jisung, and you can see the side of his face. Chan slightly glances your way, then looks back to his laptop, biting his bottom lip.

Your body heats up– a song called ‘Under You,’ at the mention of which Chan looked at you immediately. Your thoughts are racing a million miles a minute, and Jisung voices those thoughts without hesitation.

“Just for fun? Sounds like another ‘Railway,’ hm?” Jisung teases, pinching Chan’s cheek. Chan hisses, slapping Jisung’s hand away, squirming in his seat.

“No, I mean– no. I was just messing around with some samples and throwing some lyrics together. It’s not about anyo– it’s not about anything in particular.” Chan babbles, closing the tab of his demos.

“There's already lyrics, hyung?” Jisung giggles. “Come on, we HAVE to hear it now.” You sit up, crossing your arms over your chest.

“C’mon, Channie. Sungie wants to hear it.” You want to hear it, too, but you won’t openly admit that. Chan hesitates, glancing back at you from the corner of his eye before looking back at his laptop. He takes a deep breath, opening the tab back up. With the click of a button, the demo plays.

The song is slow and sensual– it sounds like a copy of ‘Railway,’ practically. But Chan’s voice comes in, soft and breathy. You can’t make out most of the lyrics because of the vocal effects and how quiet his voice is, but his tone is downright sinful. It sounds like he’s on his knees, pleading for–

You close your eyes, making fists with your hands. Stop. You can’t be thinking this way about the man who practically employs you. You open your eyes to see Jisung looking between you and Chan, holding back a giggle. Chan’s gaze is trained on his laptop screen, a faint blush creeping up on the back of his neck, stopping the song after not even a full minute. The room falls silent as Chan hesitantly turns to face Jisung, avoiding your gaze. You tilt your head to the side, looking up at Chan’s reddening face.

“Another explicit song, mm?” You chuckle. “It's good! I like it. Though I don't listen to songs like it often.” Chan laughs awkwardly, reaching up to tug at his ear.

“Ah, yeah, thanks. Like I said, it’s not about anyo– anything in particular, just experimenting with the track.” He looks back at his computer, very obviously ignoring the way you’re devouring him with your eyes.

You hum. “Sure, Channie.” A beat of silence passes before Jisung speaks up, gently pushing and pulling Chan’s shoulder.

“Oh, come on, hyung, it’s so OBVIOUSLY about Y/Nie hyung.” You choke on air, hiding your eyes with your hand. A strangled noise escapes Chan’s throat, his face burning as he glares at Jisung.

“I swear to god, Jisung, I’ll end you if you don’t shut the fuck up–” Chan slaps Jisung’s shoulder as he attempts to block the hits. You smile, chewing the inside of your cheek as you look at Chan’s back. As soon as you stand up, Chan stops hitting Jisung, hearing your steps move closer to him. You gently place your hands on Chan’s shoulders and he freezes, his breath hitching in his throat.

“Channie,” you whisper, softly massaging Chan’s tensed shoulders. “Turn around.”

Chan slowly turns around in his chair, the room dead silent as the chair squeaks beneath him. You look down at Chan, your hands moving to the sides of Chan’s shoulders.

“Is the song about me, Chan?” You ask softly, rubbing circles with your thumbs into Chan’s skin. Chan hesitates, his eyes meeting yours for a moment before quickly flickering down. His mouth opens and closes as he struggles to find the right words. He breathes out a small response, but you can’t make it out. You move one hand off Chan’s shoulder, tilting up Chan’s chin. “Mm? I didn’t catch that.”

Chan’s cheeks flush a deep red, looking up at your face. He repeats himself with a small pout on his lips, barely above a whisper. “Yes. It’s about you, sir.”

Jisung giggles. “I knew it.” You narrow your eyes at him and he shuts up, his eyes widening as his lips close tight. You turn back to Chan, scratching under his chin.

“You two have talked about me, haven’t you? About this?” Chan glances at Jisung, chewing on his lip.

“Y-Yeah. Yeah. We've talked about you before.” Chan whispers, looking down at your chest to avoid your eyes. “God, this is so embarrassing,” he groans, bringing a hand up to massage the bridge of his nose. You shake your head, kneeling down in front of Chan. You place a hand on Chan’s knee and the other on Jisung’s thigh. Chan gulps, looking down at you with blown pupils as Jisung stops breathing.

“It's okay. Thank you for being honest with me.” You squeeze Chan’s knee, turning to look at Jisung. “Sungie, have you thought about me in that way, too?” Jisung blinks blankly, just now remembering to breathe and nearly hyperventilating.

“Uhm… yeah. Yes, sir. I have.” He stutters, biting his bottom lip.

“Good. Thank you for being honest with me, too.” You smile, looking back to Chan. “Channie. It's okay. Really. Look at me.” Chan nods, chewing his bottom lip, eyes meeting yours. You pout teasingly, tracing patterns into Chan’s knee. “You look adorable. I've never seen you like this.”

Chan turns even more red, if possible, spluttering. He tries to compose himself as he blinks rapidly, shaking his head. “D-don’t say things like that, hyung.”

“Mhm? You don’t like it?” You stand up, lifting Chan’s chin up only to take your hand away, stepping back to sit on the couch. “Okay. Then I'll stop.”

Crestfallen, Chan’s eyes follow your hand as it leaves his chin and Jisung whines pathetically at the loss on his thigh. Chan pouts, reaching his hand slightly out to you. “Y/Nie hyung, please–” You tilt your head to the side, crossing your arms.

“Please, what? Use your words.” Chan whines, shifting around in his seat awkwardly. Jisung watches Chan with bated breath as Chan looks up at you with puppy dog eyes.

“You’re m-mean. I want… you to keep saying nice things to me.” Chan whispers.

You smile, looking at Jisung. “Have you ever seen him like this, Sungie?” Jisung shakes his head, eyes wide and amused. He's slowly getting back into a solid headspace.

“Never. He's always so dominant, maybe a little shy sometimes. But this is… wild.” You nod, leaning back, patting the couch next to you.

“Come sit with me, Jisung.” Jisung scrambles up, plopping down next to you. Chan watches you two, silently fidgeting with his fingers in his lap. You lay your arm on the cushion of the couch behind Jisung, your hand draped over Jisung’s shoulder. “Channie looks so cute, doesn’t he?” Jisung nuzzles into your arm, smiling at Chan.

“Yeah. He’s always been cute, but… this is a whole new side of him.” You nod, looking at Chan, who’s pouting and looking at the two of you on the couch with pleading eyes.

“Need something, baby?” Chan squeaks at the pet name, looking away with a huff.

“Stop it, hyung. You’re teasing me.”

“I'll give you what you want if you tell me what it is, sweetheart.” Chan whimpers again, sticking out his bottom lip and looking between you and Jisung. He squirms, biting down hard on his lip.

“I just– I wanna be held, hyung. I wanna–” He cuts himself off, flushing an even deeper shade of red. You chuckle, setting your legs together and patting your lap.

“C’mere, sweet boy.” Chan’s cheeks heat up, his eyes blown wide as he slowly stands up and walks over. He hesitantly sits in your lap, straddling your legs, wrapping his arms around your neck. You smile down at Chan, still towering over him even when he’s sitting in your lap. You wrap an arm around his waist, holding him close. “Hi, pretty.” Jisung sits a little closer, running his hand down Chan’s back. Chan buries his face in your neck, whining softly. He shifts on your lap, clearly flustered. You chuckle, bringing your hand up to caress the nape of Chan’s neck while you bring Jisung closer, wrapping your arm around his shoulders. “You’re so cute, Channie.”

Chan mumbles something into your shoulder, too flustered to say anything more than some form of gibberish. He shivers under you and Jisung’s touches, burying his face in your shoulder. You hum, playing with Chan’s hair. “Sungie, you know what I think?” Jisung tilts his head, looking at Chan on your lap.

“No, hyung. Enlighten me.”

“I think we should give our wonderful leader some much-needed stress relief, what do you think?” You whisper against Chan’s neck, making him shudder. Jisung giggles, petting Chan’s hair.

“Mhm. Hyung’s been working so hard for us, he must be so pent up.” Jisung whispers, twirling Chan’s curls around his finger. You softly kiss Chan’s neck to be met with a wonderful whimper from Chan’s lips.

“Wanna tell me and Sungie what exactly you were talking about in your song, mm?” You whisper, running your hand down Chan’s back. “Something about being under me?” A soft whine escapes Chan’s lips as his hips twitch against yours.

“H-hyung, please–” You snap your arm down to wrap around Chan’s waist tightly, holding him in place.

“Ah, ah,” you scold. “No moving. Tell me what the song is about, pretty.” Chan whimpers and you lean in, your breath ghosting over his neck. “Maybe I can make it happen, Channie.”

Chan whines again, his arms tightening around your shoulders as he clings to you. He turns his head to the side, away from you, eyes fluttering shut as he feels your warm breath on his neck. “I–It’s about you being… above me… holding me, pinning me.” You smile, curling a strand of Chan’s hair around your finger.

“Yeah?” You lessen your grip on Chan’s waist, gently setting your hand on the small of his back. “All I'm doing is pinning you down? Nothing else?” Chan relaxes in your hold but flushes red at your question. He buries his face in your shoulder, trying to form a coherent sentence.

“N-no, it’s… other things, too… other things I want you to do… to me.” He whispers so quietly that you’re certain Jisung couldn’t hear.

“Tell me, baby. Sungie and I won't judge, yeah?” You look over to Jisung, narrowing your eyes as if to say ‘agree, or else.’ Jisung nods quickly, running his fingers through Chan’s hair.

“We won’t judge, hyung. We wanna make you relax, okay?” Jisung plays with Chan’s hair as Chan whines, nuzzling further into your shoulder.

“Exactly. It’s okay, Channie baby, you’re safe here. What do you want me to do to you, sweet boy?” Chan sighs shakily, gripping your shirt tightly.

“I want you to… touch me, take control. I want, I want–” He cuts himself off as you feel his face physically get hotter to the touch. “I can't say it, hyung. You know what I want. Please don’t make me say it…”

You move your arm from around Jisung’s shoulders to cup Chan’s face with both hands, lifting it up gently. You caress his cheeks, looking him in the eye. “Channie, I'm not trying to mess with you or make you any more embarrassed than you already are. I just want you to tell me explicitly what you want, because I don't want to overstep or overwhelm you.” Chan melts, his eyes softening and his lips forming a small pout. “Please tell me, sweet boy.” A breathy whine leaves Chan’s lips as you call him sweet names, falling apart in your hands. He looks up into your eyes, his gaze flickering down to your lap.

“I want you to fuck me, hyung. Please.”

You smile, gently squeezing Chan’s cheeks together to make him pout. You let go, ignoring Chan’s needy whine as you place your hands securely on his hips. “There you go. Wasn’t so bad, was it?” Chan shakes his head, looking at Jisung, leaning into his hand as Jisung ruffles his hair.

“S-Sungie, help me please, I’m…” You laugh, also looking over at Jisung. He smiles, chuckling as his hands trail down Chan’s back to tease under his shirt, rubbing circles into the small of Chan’s back. Chan shudders, leaning in to press his face to your shoulder. “Jisung–” Chan’s voice cracks as Jisung presses his lips to Chan’s neck, softly trailing kisses down to his shoulder.

“What, baby? You’ve gotta learn to use your words.” Jisung whispers, licking Chan’s jaw. A moan escapes Chan’s lips, his head falling back to give Jisung more room. His thighs squeeze around your waist and you chuckle, trailing a hand down to squeeze his thigh.

“I need you…” Chan whispers, eyes squeezed shut from overstimulation.

“Mm? You want us both, pretty?” You whisper, petting Chan’s thigh. Chan nods, letting out a soft whimper.

“Yes, please, so bad, I can’t– I–” Chan can’t form a coherent thought as you start kissing the other side of Chan’s neck, both you and Jisung covering his neck with your lips. Chan shakes, leaning further into your shoulder to let you and Jisung cover his neck with kisses. “Please– oh, god, hyungs, please…” You chuckle, leaving a long kiss to his neck.

“Hyungs?” Jisung giggles, gently yanking Chan’s hair back. Chan whimpers, letting Jisung pull him back. “Am I your hyung now, Channie?” Chan’s eyes widen, his face burning as he quickly squeezes his eyes shut as he realizes what he let slip.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean– I didn’t–” Chan stutters and you laugh, kissing Chan’s cheek.

“It's okay, baby, it’s cute.” You assure him, petting the small of his back. “Yeah? What do you think, Jisung?” Jisung smiles, nodding as he continues to nip at Chan’s neck.

“Yeah. It's cute. It’s very cute, Channie.” Jisung presses a long kiss to Chan’s jaw. Chan whimpers, digging his fingers into your shirt, holding on for dear life. He desperately bucks his hips against your abdomen, searching for some type of friction.

“Shh, don’t move, baby.” You whisper into Chan’s neck, holding his hips securely. “We’re gonna take our time loving on you.” A breathy whimper escapes Chan as you hold him, stilling his hips.

“Hyungs, p-please, I need…” Chan whines as you press your lips to his shoulder, humming for him to continue. You can feel him growing against your stomach as you smile against his skin, pulling back to tap on Jisung’s thigh.

“Our baby has a little problem, Sungie.” You caress Chan’s hip, looking at Jisung with a small smile. Jisung flushes, pulling away from Chan’s neck to look down.

“Look at you… already so desperate for us, Channie.” Jisung trails off, resting his hand on Chan’s inner thigh. Chan gasps, his legs tightening around you. You chuckle, looking between the two.

“You both have done this before, haven’t you?” Jisung chuckles, closing one eye and pursing his lips together, pretending to think.

“Maybe… once, or twice…” You scoff, squeezing Jisung’s thigh a little too hard. He buckles, his mouth falling open in a groan.

“Don’t lie. Tell me.” You scold as Chan wraps his arms around your waist, burying his face in your chest.

“I've lost count,” Chan whispers into your chest. “But it’s not new to us.” Jisung nods, the hand under Chan’s shirt trailing up his back.

“He's always in control, though.” Jisung caresses Chan’s back. “He’s so dominant, usually. It’s… nice, seeing him like this.” You lift your hand to Jisung’s face, holding his chin up.

“Had experience yourself, being dominant?” You ask softly as Jisung blinks, shifting under your touch as he meets your gaze.

“I, um… I’ve tried it, but… not really.” Jisung bites his bottom lip, looking down, his cheeks flushing pink. You run your thumb over Jisung’s chin, looking between him and Chan on your lap.

“What am I gonna do with you two…” You trail off, gently petting Chan’s thigh.

“Hyung, please…” Chan shifts in your lap, whining. You squeeze Chan's hip, moving your hand from Jisung’s chin down to Chan’s other hip.

“Yes, Channie?” You look down at Chan, holding him in place.

Chan huffs, looking up at you with pupils blown wide. “You know what, hyung.” You chuckle, kissing Chan’s forehead.

“Okay, okay. Channie’s needy. We need to take care of that first.” You give in and Chan nods quickly, trying to get even closer to you. He holds your shoulders like a lifeline as he fights against your strong grip to grind down.

“Please, please, it hurts…” Chan whines quietly and you kiss his cheeks softly.

“I'm sorry, I'll stop teasing. Can you stand up for me, sweetheart?” You ask softly, letting your hands fall down to Chan’s thighs. Chan slowly stands, his legs shaking beneath him. He holds your shoulders desperately, looking down at you with pleading eyes. You stand up, taking his hands to hold him up, towering over him once you’re fully standing. You cup his cheek, rubbing your thumb into his skin. “Jisung, go lock the door.”

Jisung scrambles off the couch and nearly trips over his own feet twice to lock the door. Chan blinks up at you, nuzzling into your hand on his cheek. You drop your hands down to Chan’s shoulders, caressing them gently. “Go lay on the couch, however you’re most comfortable,” you softly command him to move.

Chan takes a shaky step towards the couch and sinks down, laying on his back, his head propped against the armrest. He stares up at you with clouded eyes, his cheeks flushed. You smile down at him, slowly parting his legs to place your thigh between them, hovering on top of him. You place your hands on either side of Chan’s head, caging him below you on the couch.

“This is what you wanted, yeah? To be under me?” You coo, running your thumb over Chan’s cheek. He whines, nodding desperately as he wraps his legs around your leg. He rolls his hips up, grinding his aching problem against your thigh.

“Please. Please.” Chan whimpers, clinging onto your shirt tightly. You chuckle, leaning down, kissing Chan’s neck. Chan starts panting, one hand gripping the arm of the couch above him to ground himself, his head thrown back. You trail your hands down Chan’s hard chest, tugging up the hem of Chan’s shirt. “Take it off, please. Please, hyung.” Chan begs and you peck Chan’s jaw, giving him space.

“Up, baby. Help me take it off,” you ask Chan gently, only one hand beside Chan’s head. He nods, sitting up and raising his arms over his head. He watches you with dark eyes as you pull his shirt up and over his chest, tossing it off to the side. Jisung picks up the shirt and gently folds it, setting it on Chan’s desk. Chan blushes deep red, bringing his arms down to attempt to cover his chest. You run a hand down his pale, toned body, intentionally rubbing against his small yet hard nipples. He shivers, his head falling back again with the exhalation of a soft whine. “So pretty, Channie,” you whisper, kissing Chan’s cheek softly. He shoots his hands up, trying to grab at your shirt to pull it off, too. You tsk, taking Chan’s wrists into your hand, pinning them above Chan’s head. “Hands to yourself.”

Chan whines, nodding with a pout as he lets you pin his hands down. He squirms, trying to create friction to relieve himself of the intense pressure. “Please, hyung…” You sigh, looking over at Jisung, unsurprised to find his shirt discarded, as well.

“Is there anything in here to keep Chan’s hands tied, Sung?” Jisung nods eagerly, scrambling over to the desk and opening the drawer, pulling out a long piece of black fabric. You laugh, taking it from Jisung’s hand. “Wow, holy shit. Is this from Red Lights?” You run your thumb over the silky fabric. “It's like you cut off a piece of the huge tethers.” Jisung chuckles, sitting on the opposite arm of the couch.

“Yeah. Seemed like a useful thing to take as a souvenir.” Jisung smiles, leaning against the back of the couch.

“Kinky.” You look back down to Chan, gently wrapping the fabric around Chan’s wrists. You tie them together, testing the knot to make sure it’s secure but not too tight. “Is this okay? Does it hurt?” You whisper, caressing Chan’s wrist. Chan shakes his head, gently trying to pull his hands out to no luck.

“No, no, it’s good, just tight enough…” He tries to pull at it again, his face scrunching up as the fabric digs into his wrists. “Please– touch me– do something, anything…” Chan begs and you melt, kissing his cheek.

“Okay. God, there’s just no room,” You groan, looking back at Jisung. “I want you involved, Sungie, but I don't know how.” Jisung gets up and kneels beside Chan’s face, petting his hair.

“Mm, I could help you out, hyung, or…” Jisung runs his thumb over Chan’s bottom lip, making his hyung whine. “Or I could give him something else to think about.” You smile, looking down at Chan’s blown out eyes.

“Channie, you want Sungie to keep your mouth busy?” You pet Chan’s cheek and he immediately nods, opening his mouth to lick at Jisung’s thumb.

“Please, please.” Chan whimpers breathlessly as you start to trail kisses down Chan’s chest, settling between his legs. You kiss his waistband, gently tugging it lower to kiss Chan’s v-line. Chan moans softly, rolling his hips up towards your face, his eyes fluttering shut as Jisung traces Chan’s lips with his thumb. You lick at Chan’s v-line then freeze, groaning against Chan’s skin.

“Fuck.” You lift your head up, looking Chan in the eye. He whines at the loss of contact and you soothe him by petting his abs. “Is there lube in here?” Chan nods, his eyes squeezing shut.

“Yeah, yeah, there’s some in… the bottom drawer, I think.” He softly answers, his wrists struggling against the fabric. You lean back down, kissing Chan’s stomach.

“Sungie?” You whisper, caressing Chan’s hips as you kiss all over his skin. Jisung pulls away from Chan’s face to look through the drawer, pulling out a small bottle of lube.

“Got it, now what?” Jisung hands you the bottle and kneels back down next to Chan. You take the bottle and place it next to you on the couch, kissing Chan’s abs again.

“Do whatever you want with Chan. I've got to prep him.” Jisung smiles, nodding as he kisses Chan’s cheek.

“Hyung–” Chan whimpers. Jisung chuckles, running his fingers through Chan’s curls, pulling them back to expose Chan’s neck.

Jisung kisses and nips at his neck, mumbling against Chan’s skin. “Don’t worry, baby, I'm here now.” Jisung nibbles Chan’s jawline, trailing up to kiss his soft lips. You smile, watching them, as you gently pull Chan’s shorts down. Chan, entranced in the kiss, still manages to lift his hips a little to let you slip off his shorts. You coo, kissing the waistband of Chan’s boxers.

“Good boys.” You gently rub Chan’s length through his boxers, kissing around his belly button. Chan rolls his hips up again, a breathy moan escaping his lips as he pulls against the fabric, whimpering.

“Hyung, please…” He whines helplessly, trying his hardest to break free.

“Yes, baby?” You kiss the tip of Chan’s cock through the fabric, smiling against it as you feel him twitch under you. Chan shudders, his breathing quickening, as he pulls against the fabric tying his hands together hard enough to bruise. Jisung stops him, holding his hands together, rubbing his thumbs over Chan’s red wrists.

“Y/Nie hyung, please, stop teasing, I need you, need it, please–” You concede, pulling down Chan’s boxers, softly wrapping your hand around his aching cock as he gasps.

“You’re right, I'm sorry, you’ve been so good for us. I won't tease anymore.” You apologize, stroking the base slowly as you pepper kisses to the tip. Chan keens, pressing his head back into the couch with all his strength.

“Thank you, oh god, thank you, feels so good, thank you–” Chan whimpers, babbling as he leaks precum against your lips. You hum, licking the release as you kiss down his length, spreading Chan’s legs a little wider. Chan whimpers, watching you with a heavy gaze as he tries to hold back his whines. Jisung kisses down Chan’s jaw, pulling back his hair to bury his face in Chan’s neck. He stops at Chan’s collarbone, sucking softly then biting down. Chan gasps, head shooting up. “Sungie, no marks, please,” Chan panics, stumbling over his words. Jisung sighs, licking Chan’s collarbone instead of sucking and biting.

You smile, watching the two as you gently stroke Chan’s length, trailing kisses down his taint. He tries his best to hold back his whines, failing miserably. You chuckle, taking your hands away from Chan’s cock to pour a little lube onto your fingers. Pressing your clean hand against Chan’s thigh to hold him down, you gently tease Chan’s entrance with a lubed finger, tracing circles around the rim. Chan shivers, lifting his hips in a wordless plea for you to hurry. He bites his lip as Jisung licks over his nipple and you press your fingertip inside him, a needy shudder running down his spine. You kiss the side of Chan’s length, licking down to the base as you press your finger all the way in.

Chan gasps, his dick twitching under your tongue. “Hyung, fuck– oh my god.” He whimpers, looking at Jisung with teary eyes. “Sungie…” Jisung lifts his head from Chan’s chest and brings him in for a kiss, swallowing Chan’s needy whimpers as you curl and pump your finger into Chan’s hole. Once Chan’s whimpers die down a bit, you slick up a second finger and push it in slowly, to let him adjust. Chan moans, breaking his kiss with Jisung to focus on breathing, his fists clenching together. “Please– more–”

You curl your fingers up, kissing along Chan’s thigh as Jisung swallows Chan’s whimpers while you hit his prostate. He clenches his thighs around your hand as your fingers speed up. “Please, please, I'm sorry, I need more, please…” Chan whimpers and whines as Jisung pulls away. Jisung looks down at you between Chan’s thighs as you kiss his thighs. Jisung wraps his hand around Chan’s dick, gently rubbing the tip.

“Hyung,” Jisung nudges you and you lift your head from Chan’s thigh to meet his gaze. “Can I suck him off?” His words instantly go to your dick, imagining him with Chan’s cock down his throat. It takes a couple seconds for you to come back to reality, quickly nodding.

“Yeah. please. I'm almost done, but it’s gonna hurt a little. Please distract him.” Jisung immediately drops next to Chan’s hips, stroking his drooling cock and licking the tip. Chan whimpers loud enough to surprise even himself, grimacing as he shuts his mouth tight. You chuckle, kissing Chan’s inner thigh. “It's okay, baby, let it out. It's late and the walls are thick. Don’t worry.” Chan nods, closing his eyes, throwing his head back. It’s too much, he decides, to see what Jisung and you are doing to him. He's better off with his eyes shut.

Jisung starts to bob his head, taking a little more of Chan’s length with every stroke of his head. Chan has to hold back a scream with how good he feels. He’d been sucked off, sure, but never had fingers inside him at the same time. Taking advantage of the pleasure Jisung’s giving Chan, you slowly push a third lubed finger into Chan, cooing as he grimaces. Chan lets out a loud moan and involuntarily bucks his hips up, accidentally shoving his cock further down Jisung’s throat without warning. Jisung gags, pulling off to catch his breath.

“S-Sorry, hyung, ‘m sorry–” Chan rambles, trying to sit up to look at Jisung apologetically. Jisung shakes his head, diving back in instead of responding. He swallows around Chan’s cock, closing his eyes and humming at the sweet taste. You smile, a familiar feeling pooling in your lower stomach as you press your lips to Chan’s thigh. Curling your three fingers up to hit Chan’s sweet spot again, you spread them out to stretch Chan open. He pulls hard at the fabric binding his wrists together, breathy whine after whine escaping his lips. Chan chokes back a sob as Jisung swallows around him and he squeezes his eyes shut. “Hyung– hyungs, please, let me go, let me touch,” Chan babbles as you pick your head up, stilling your fingers to let him speak. “I've been so good,” Chan hiccups. “Please let me touch, please, Y/Nie hyung, please…”

Having a massive soft spot for Chan, you give in immediately. You kiss a part of Chan’s length that’s not deep in Jisung’s throat and push your fingers in a little deeper, reaching up with your free hand to untie the fabric around Chan’s wrists. “There you go, I'm sorry, sweetheart. You’ve done so well.” You discard the fabric, gently rubbing the bright red marks on Chan’s wrists. Chan shakes his hands, rotating his wrists to get rid of the soreness.

“Thank you, hyung…” Chan trails off, eyes flitting between you and Jisung, who’s now looking up at Chan, licking the tip of Chan’s dick softly. Chan bites his bottom lip, reaching down to pet Jisung’s hair. “Off, wanna– need you. Wanna touch you. Been good, please.” He mumbles, trying to pull Jisung up. You pet Chan’s hair, slightly damp from his sweat.

“Baby, let us take care of you, okay? I haven't been prepping you for nothing.” Chan nods, sighing at your hand in his hair.

“Y-Yes, sir, okay. Please take care of me,” he whispers, sighing as your hand trails down his face to caress his cheek. Jisung takes Chan back into his mouth, swallowing loudly as he takes Chan fully down his throat. Chan yelps, unconsciously bucking his hips up further, squeezing his eyes shut. “Sungie–! Fuck–” He pants, his body going limp under Jisung’s mouth. You chuckle, patting Jisung’s head and gently lifting him up.

“Enough, Jisung. Give the poor boy a break.” You scold and Jisung pulls off Chan reluctantly, but not before giving the tip a small lick. He wipes the drool from his mouth with the back of his hand, looking up at you with a grin. Chan whimpers at the sudden loss of Jisung’s warmth around him. He lifts his head off the back of the couch, eyes flitting between you and Jisung.

“H–Hyungs…” he trails off, his brain fried. You pet Chan’s hair, moving the strands out from in front of his eyes.

“I know, I know,” you whisper, gentle and soft. “We'll give you what you want. How do you want me, sweetheart?” Chan stares up at you with wide eyes, chewing his bottom lip.

“I– I don't care– doggy? Missionary? Please… I just want you.” Chan whines, leaning forward into your hand. You hum, ruffling Chan’s hair softly.

“You decide, sweet boy. I'll do whatever you want. Do you want to see me or Sungie when I’m fucking you?” Chan looks down at his lap, chewing his lip again. He looks back up between you and Jisung.

“I wanna… I wanna see you, Y/Nie hyung… but…” Chan pouts. “I wanna hear Sungie. Is that… okay?” You smile, leaning down and kissing his nose. He giggles, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Sungie's not going anywhere. You’ll hear him just fine.” Chan nods, wrapping his arms around your neck to pull you down for a kiss. He hums softly into your mouth as you kiss him deeper, cupping his cheek and licking into his mouth. Chan whines, his hands moving to your shoulders to hold you close to him. You get on top of him again, your knees on both sides of his thighs. You cup Chan’s chin to tilt it up, kissing him deeper, hungrier, sloppier. He moans softly, allowing you to devour him. Chan’s hips buck up, grinding against your bulge. He pulls back with a gasp, breathing heavily. You smile, letting him take a breather, gently kissing his forehead. “Your lips are addicting, Channie.”

Chan giggles, his ears flushed red, leaning forward to kiss the corner of your mouth. “Thank you, hyung,” he whispers, his voice quiet. You hum, sitting back and unbuttoning your jeans. Chan’s eyes go wide, stuttering nonsense as he watches you slowly unzip your pants. You chuckle, looking back over to Jisung, who’s painfully hard in his pants.

“Sungie, wanna use Channie’s mouth while I fuck him?” You can see Jisung’s cock twitch in his pants and he almost trips over his feet to climb onto the couch next to Chan.

“Please, please–” Jisung cups Chan’s cheek, turning Chan’s face to make eye contact. “Baby, can you handle it?” He asks softly, petting Chan’s cheek. Chan nods vehemently, leaning closer to Jisung, trying to kiss him.

“Yes, please, hyung, wanna taste you–” Jisung leans in to kiss Chan, both boys whimpering as their lips meet. While they’re preoccupied, you slip off of Chan, standing up in front of the couch. You pull your pants down and off fully, chuckling as you watch Chan and Jisung break the kiss to look up at you with wide eyes, darting down to the tent in your boxers. “What the fuck,” Chan whispers, biting his lip, scooting back on the couch. “Hyung, you’re–”

“Holy shit.” Jisung cuts him off, blinking rapidly. “I think you’re bigger than all of us.” You chuckle, pushing your boxers down to free your length. Both of their jaws drop and you laugh with your full chest, throwing your underwear aside.

“Come on. I'm not that big, am I?” You softly pump yourself, narrowing your eyes at Jisung. “Wait, who’s this ‘all of us’ you’re talking about? You mean out of all the kids?”

Chan swallows thickly, licking his lips. “Yeah,” he whispers. “A lot bigger– like, a lot–” Chan mumbles nonsense, fear slowly spreading across his face. You start to get a little worried, placing a comforting hand on Chan’s thigh.

“Am I too big?” You whisper, caressing his skin. “Do you not want to do this, baby?” Chan sits up, snapping out of his daze.

“No! No, no, sorry. I just– got… distracted,” his ears flush red as he giggles. “I'm okay, I want this, please, hyung.” You chuckle, squeezing his thigh.

“Alright. I'll go slow, yeah?” You trail your hand down his thigh, slowly pushing it to his chest, met with an appreciative whine from Chan’s lips. “Sungie, don’t use his mouth until he’s fully adjusted, got it?”

Jisung nods, kneeling down next to the couch. He kisses Chan’s cheek, soothing his hair. “Yes, sir. I'll wait.”

Chan takes a deep breath as you press both of his thighs to his chest, the sharp intake of air making his body shake. “I'll– I'll tap Jisung if he needs to stop. He can use my mouth now.” You shake your head, running your hands down his thighs to softly squeeze his ass.

“No. You need to be able to talk to me as I push inside. When you’re ready, Jisung will start. Okay?” Chan whines, but agrees. He reaches out for your hand and you take it, squeezing softly. “You ready, sweetheart?” You take your other hand to slick your cock with lube.

Chan chews his bottom lip, holding onto your hand tightly. “I'm… I’m ready,” He locks eyes with you, his heart hammering in his chest hard enough for you to feel his pulse through his hand. You push his hand up above his head, pinning it down as you use your other hand to guide your tip to Chan’s entrance.

You push in as slowly as you can muster, but as soon as you breach the rim, a warm bliss spreads throughout your entire body. He's so warm, so tight, so perfect around you. You squeeze your eyes shut to ground yourself– not even a full inch inside.

Chan is beside himself. His head is thrown back against the couch, his grip on your hand bruising. He’s whimpering pathetically, his own eyes squeezed shut tight. “Hyungggg,” he whines. “Please. More. Need more.” Jisung coos, soothing Chan’s hair.

“Be patient, Channie,” Jisung whispers, kissing Chan’s forehead. “Y/Nie hyung is going slow, remember?” Chan just whines in response, writhing around.

“Noooooo,” Chan is pathetic. “Hyung, all the way, now, please, I need–”

You push in a full two inches and Chan stops breathing. You’re still inside of him, gently caressing his hand. “You okay? It’s what you wanted, no?” You tease and Chan shudders, breathing again.

“Yes, h-hyung, it’s what I wanted, thank you, thank y–” Jisung shuts him up with his lips on Chan’s, turning his head to deepen the kiss. You let go of Chan’s hand to pinch Jisung’s ear and he pulls back, groaning.

“What was that for?” Jisung whines, rubbing his ear. You narrow your eyes at him, going back to holding Chan’s hand above his head.

“Let him breathe and speak. I'm not done, Sungie.” You scold. Jisung looks like a kicked puppy, the way he sits back on the ground next to the couch.

“Sorry, sir,” he whispers, chewing the inside of his cheek. You chuckle, turning back to Chan.

“You okay? Ready for more?” Chan whimpers, his bottom lip jutting out.

“There's more?” His voice sounds small, looking down as if he could see your cock through his own thighs against his chest. You chuckle, leaning down to kiss his nose.

“There’s quite a bit more,” you lift back up, looking down to see over half your length still unsheathed. “You sure you want this?”

“Yes!” He responds instantly, then giggles at his desperation. “Yes, hyung. please.”

You groan, your free hand pressing down on his stomach to hold yourself up as Chan tightens around you. “Loose– loosen up, sweetheart,” you breathe out, unable to push in any further or even pull out. “Please.”

Chan takes a deep breath and, squeezing your hand, he slowly relaxes. You feel his muscles ease around you. Chan trembles, whimpering softly as Jisung kneels next to the couch, petting Chan’s head. “There you go, Channie, just relax. You’re okay.”

You pull Chan’s hand up to kiss it, then place it back down softly to push in another inch. “Good boy,” you praise, met with the softest whimper from Chan’s lips. “You’re doing so well. Not used to bottoming, hm?” You whisper, stilling inside of him. Chan nods in response, whining high in his throat.

Chan lets out a soft sob, closing his eyes tightly as tears run down his cheeks. “H-hurts…” he whispers, trying (yet failing) to hold back his tears, squeezing your hand tightly. You coo as Jisung kisses away his tears, petting his cheek.

You pull out slightly, just to push in slightly deeper than before. Chan moans loudly at the absence of you, then his breath hitches when you press in again. “It's okay, it’s okay,” you soothe him, rubbing patterns into his hand. He bites his lip to hold back another sob.

“Y-You-You’re so big, I– oh my g-god…” he gasps, tears dripping down his face. Jisung wipes them away, kissing his forehead.

“Color, hyung?” Jisung whispers, checking in. Chan hiccups, sniffing softly.

“Green,” Chan replies after a couple seconds of slowing his breathing. “It's just a lot. I've only ever bottomed for Minho.” Jisung giggles, kissing Chan’s cheek.

“Then you’ve barely bottomed,” Jisung whispers underneath his breath, as if Minho could hear. Chan laughs, then winces as he’s reminded of the mass inside of him. “Sorry, sorry,” Jisung apologizes, wiping a stray tear that escaped Chan’s closed eyes.

You almost burst on the spot watching the two of them. You knew all the kids fooled around, it was beyond obvious, but seeing and hearing confirmation warms your heart. You know for certain now that they’re all there for one another, in more ways than you knew for sure. And now you’re a part of that– and you hope this isn’t a one-time thing.

You come back to reality as the two of them look up at you, silently giving you permission to continue. You push into the backs of Chan’s thighs, forcing them flush against Chan’s chest as you lift his hips to push in deeper. Chan wails, a broken sob escaping his lips. The sound instantly dies to the soundproofed walls, but it doesn’t make Chan any less mortified. He curls up into himself, pulling your hand as he covers his face with his arm in embarrassment.

Chuckling, you pull his hand back to the arm of the couch above his head, caressing his chin with your other hand. “Don’t hold back your noises, baby boy.” He sniffs, nodding as he lets more whines out. You trail your free hand down his chest, pressing down on his stomach. “I know it feels good, sweetheart. Keep making those pretty sounds for us.” Chan keens, his ears burning blood red.

“H-hyung, god…” he looks up at you only to squeeze his eyes shut again, failing to hold back the tears streaming down his face. He grasps your hand as tightly as he can muster as you push in deeper. He whimpers pathetically, breathing through his nose as he holds back sobs.

You stop moving, overwhelmed by his sweet sounds. “God,” you lean down and press your forehead to Chan’s sternum. “You sound so good.” It takes every ounce in your body to not cum right in that moment as Chan sobs, his chest heaving under your head. “Give me a second, baby.” Chan squeezes your hand in response, trembling under you. He takes shaky breaths under you, whining and moaning as his brain melts. Your name is the only word he can seem to remember, repeating it softly.

“Y/N, hyung, Y/Nie, hyung, Y/Nie hyung–” Chan hiccups as you lift your head, kissing his lips softly. You keep your lips on his as you push the rest of the way inside, swallowing his sobs and whimpers. He kisses you like his life depends on it, like if he stops you’ll disappear, this will all be over. He has the softest lips you’ve ever felt– it feels like making out with a pillow.

You’ve stilled inside of him, letting him adjust to your full length. After another moment of needy, desperate kisses, Chan tries to roll his hips up for more but his hips tremble too hard for him to move properly. You still feel the movement, though, and you pull up to let Chan speak. He lets out a strained whine, chasing your lips.

“Please–” he whispers, staring at your lips. “Move, please. And more– more kisses. please.” You press your lips to his again, pulling out a couple inches just to push back in. Chan gasps as you hit as deeply as you can reach, allowing you to lick into his mouth. He pants, letting you do whatever you want to him.

Ignoring his protests, you sit up to get a better angle to move inside him. Chan pouts, his mouth opening and closing, feeling empty. You chuckle, stilling your hips. “Sungie.” Jisung perks up as you say his name, sitting forward on his knees. “I think Chan’s okay. You wanna have your fun now?”

Jisung almost falls onto Chan with how quickly he stands up. “You ready, Channie?” Jisung whispers, tilting Chan’s head to face him. Chan nods, staring up at him. “If it's too much, just squeeze my hand twice, okay?” He takes Chan’s other hand– now holding both you and Jisung’s hands.

“Please. I’m ready,” Chan begs, wetting his lips with his tongue and opening his mouth wide. Jisung laughs, ruffling Chan’s hair with his free hand.

“Desperate much? I don’t even have my pants off yet,” Jisung undoes his jeans with one hand, rubbing patterns into Chan’s hand with the other. He gets them off quick– you can tell this isn’t the first time he’s had to undress with a hand busy.

As soon as Jisung slips his long dick into Chan’s mouth, you start moving again. “Channie, squeeze my hand twice too if you need me to stop, okay?” Chan whines in response, his mouth full, but he squeezes your hand once to let you know he heard you. You chuckle, pressing down on his stomach as you start a steady rhythm. “Good boy, you’re doing so well for us,” you whisper as you lean down, burying your face in Chan’s neck as he takes Jisung’s cock down his throat on his other side.

You lick a stripe up to Chan’s ear, peppering kisses to his jaw. “What a perfect boy,” you praise, nibbling on his earlobe. “You like being used, don’t you?” Chan moans so loudly Jisung buckles, almost falling on top of you both.

“Fuck. Hyung, please,” Jisung whines. “Don’t make him moan. I'm gonna cum too quick.” You laugh, pressing your lips to Chan’s jaw.

“Sorry,” you apologize. “So good, Channie,” whispering into his neck, you trail your hand down to wrap around Chan’s aching cock. Chan chokes on Jisung’s cock, squeezing his hand twice and gasping for air as Jisung immediately pulls out.

“Y/Nie hyung, wait, wait–” he whimpers and you instantly stop all your movements, your hand stilling on his cock and your length half outside his warmth.

“What's wrong?” You coo, sitting up to watch Chan’s face as Jisung kneels down to pet Chan’s hair.

Chan’s voice falters, chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. “Sorry, sorry, just– so close. Don't wanna cum yet. But don’t stop, just– don’t touch.” You nod, moving your hand from his cock to his stomach, stroking softly.

“Okay, puppy.”

Chan lets out the most pathetic sound of the night as you feel a sudden warmth on your hand. You look down to see his cock leaking cum, dripping down the side of your hand into his belly button. Jisung holds back a laugh, turning around so Chan can’t see him fighting his demons. You can’t fight the smile that spreads on your face, looking up to find a deflated Chan staring back at you with tears in his eyes.

“Channie,” you hum and he whines, shutting his eyes.

“Don’t,” he whispers, facing away from you.

“Chan,” you let go of Chan’s hand and force him to face you, running your thumb down his jaw.

“Please don’t,” his voice shakes as he opens his eyes slowly, a tear streaming down his cheek.

“Bang Chan.” He nearly screams, hitting your chest with the hand you let go of.

“Don’t call me that right now!” He cries out, wiping his tears with the back of his hand. You lift your hand, coated in his cum, and slowly lick it off as Chan watches you. You don’t even have to look down to know his cock is getting hard again.

“Channie,” you whisper, licking the last drop of his cum off your hand. Chan is too distracted to pipe up this time. “Did you just cum untouched from me calling you ‘puppy’?” He whines, covering his face with his hand.

“I wanna die. Actually, just kill me. Please.” You chuckle, kissing his nose, then kissing his lips softly. “Hyung–”

“Shh,” you whisper, kissing Chan to shut him up. He doesn’t complain. He kisses back hesitantly at first, tongue darting out to taste his own cum. You open your mouth to let him in, and he devours you in return.

A couple minutes of hungry making out pass and Jisung starts protesting. “Y/N,” Jisung whines. you sigh into Chan’s lips and pull away after licking Chan’s bottom lip.

“That's ‘hyung’ to you, Sungie,” you correct, kissing Chan’s cheek.

“Sorry, sorry– Y/Nie hyung.” Jisung fumbles, correcting himself. “Please. I’m so hard, I need to cum.” You groan, reminded of your own neglected length.

“Yeah. Yeah, me too,” you sit up, away from Chan’s neck, as he pouts up at you. “Sorry, pup. Can we go again?” Chan keens at the pet name, his face lighting up.

“Please. Please, yes, I wanna, wanna feel hyung again.” Jisung clears his throat obnoxiously and Chan giggles. “Sorry. Wanna feel hyungs again,” he corrects. “Please.”

“Good boy,” you praise, pressing into Chan again. He closes his eyes, letting out contented breaths as you press all the way in. Once you’re in fully, he gazes up at Jisung, letting his mouth fall open in anticipation. Jisung pushes in, gently rocking back and forth as you match the same pace.

“‘M not– not gonna last long,” Jisung whispers, petting Chan’s hair as he slowly fucks his throat. Chan hums around him, letting his eyes fall shut as he enjoys being used. You lean back down and bite his neck to ground yourself, moving your hips quicker and snapping into Chan’s. Chan lets out a punched whimper at every thrust, driving Jisung closer and closer. “Fuck,” Jisung groans, pulling out of Chan’s mouth. Chan whines, chasing Jisung’s cock with his mouth, only for Jisung to slap the tip back onto his tongue. He jerks off into Chan’s mouth, cumming with a low whine, painting Chan’s tongue white. As soon as he finishes, he bends down to meet Chan’s lips in a sloppy kiss, Jisung’s cum spreading between their mouths.

You pepper kisses into Chan’s neck as you speed up, stroking his aching cock as you groan. “Channie, where do you want me to cum?” Chan breaks the kiss with Jisung, panting.

“Inside. Please fill me up,” he begs, turning his head to face you. You kiss him immediately, thrusting one, two– three times, cumming deep inside him. Chan whimpers, exploding in your hand as soon as he feels you filling him up. You chuckle into the kiss, lifting your hand to lick it clean once again. Chan’s pupils are blown wide watching you, sticking out his tongue to lick your fingers. You let him lick off the remaining cum, humming as he closes his eyes when you kiss him again.

Chan grimaces after a couple seconds of kisses and you pull away, scanning his face. “Are you okay?” You whisper, rubbing his cheek.

“My legs are gonna go numb,” he whines, giggling a little. You sit up instantly, letting his legs stretch out after what felt like forever. He sighs in contempt, closing his eyes. “Thank you,” he whispers.

“I’m so sorry. I had you bent in half for too long.” Chan giggles, waving you off. “Sungie, are there any towels?” You ask softly, too scared to pull out of Chan yet. “Or tissues, at least?” Jisung stands to his feet after pressing a soft kiss to Chan’s cheek.

“Yeah, lemme go grab one,” he disappears behind you for a moment, Chan watching him walk away. He tries to sit up and winces, his hand shooting to his stomach.

“Fuck. That’s gonna be sore,” he giggles up at you. You lean down to kiss his stomach, caressing both sides of his hips.

“Sorry, pretty boy.” Chan just smiles in response.

“It’s okay. I asked for it, didn’t I?” He chews his bottom lip. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

Jisung returns with a towel and you clean Chan’s stomach up, carefully wiping Chan’s soft dick before wiping your own.

“God,” you groan after they’ve both cleaned up and eased back into their clothes. “I haven’t done that in so long.” Jisung lifts his head to look at you as he slips on his second sock.

“Done what? Topped? Or fucked your boss?” You laughed, massaging your temple.

“Please don’t say that. I’m reeling enough after everything.” Chan nuzzles into your shoulder, wrapping his arm around yours. “It’s okay. Nobody will know. Unless you want them to,” Chan looks up at you, chewing his bottom lip. “The others… like you, too. We all like you,” he confesses.

You ruffle his hair, kissing his forehead. “I know, pup.” Chan melts into your shoulder at the endearment. “But I’m not sure I’d want to. Y’know. I think…” You trail off, eyes flitting between Chan and Jisung.

Panic seeps in. You just fucked your boss. Bosses, rather. You’d be dead if anyone found out. Sure, the other kids would be fine with it. But for that to leak to anyone else? You could never show your face again. You overstepped. Massively.

Chan can feel you stiffen up, and he lifts his head to study your expression. Before he can say anything, you stand up, running your hand through your hair. “I… I should go.” Chan shoots forward, tugging on your wrist to not let you move any further away.

“No. Sit down.” Chan’s back to normal. Gone is the submissive man you had wrapped around your finger just minutes prior. You know that tone, you know better. So you sit down.

“This was a mistake,” you start as soon as you sit back down. “I got so caught up in the moment, I shouldn’t have– really. This is bad.”

“Stop. Just stop, okay?” Chan squeezes your wrist tightly, sitting closer. “If we didn’t want this, we would’ve said something. If we didn’t enjoy it, we would’ve stopped. We wouldn’t have done it. Do you really think so low of us?” Your eyes widen, shaking your head rapidly.

“No, no, I know you would’ve, but–” You stare down at the ground, thinking, trying to speak, but nothing comes out. “I’m your manager. I overstepped.”

Chan places his hand on your cheek, turning your face towards him. “Hyung. Y/Nie. It’s okay, I promise. You didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t overstep. You didn’t do anything we didn’t want.” His thumb runs across your cheek in gentle circles. “Sungie and I both wanted this, hoped for this, prayed for this. We enjoyed it more than you can even imagine.”

You laugh, shaking your head in bewilderment. “Prayed? You two wanted to have sex with me that badly?”

“I can’t speak for Chan, but…” Jisung pipes up. “I know the day you became our main manager, I jerked off for an hour to the scent of your cologne still on my hand.” You roll your eyes.

“Freak. Okay, whatever.” Jisung giggles, raising his hands up in defeat. Chan chuckles, dropping his hand back down to hold your hand.

“I’ve been thinking about it for years,” Chan confesses, rubbing patterns into the palm of your hand, unable to meet your eyes. “You have no idea how many times I’ve had to stop myself from getting on my knees and begging for it while you lectured me.” You scoff, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Okay. Got it. Is it just you two who’re crazy for my dick, or do I have to look out for the other kids drooling over me, too?” Jisung and Chan exchange an unreadable glance, then refuse to respond to your question. “... Okay. Understood.”

Chan rubs your knee, tonguing the inside of his cheek. “Please, don’t panic, okay? This was just one fun night. It can just be a one time thing.” You think Chan can feel the disappointment through your skin, because he immediately backtracks. “Or not. We can do this again. Whenever you want. Whatever you want.”

“I’d like that. For this to not just be a one time thing. Please.” Chan leans forward and kisses your cheek, whispering against your skin.

“Thank god.” He straddles your thigh, hugging you tight. “You scared me for a moment.” You chuckle, running your hand through his hair.

“Sorry,” you reach out for Jisung to come closer, and he takes a seat on your other thigh. “I trust you guys. Anytime you want me, just let me know. I’ll be there.” They both nuzzle into your neck, wrapping their arms around you.

“I love you,” Chan whispers, kissing your neck.

Before you can respond, the door unlocks and swings open.

“Sorry, forgot my–” Changbin stops in his tracks, staring at the scene before him. He takes in everyone’s messy hair, the towels scattered across the floor, your mortified face as you meet his eyes. He processes slowly, then a smirk slowly appears on his face when Chan and Jisung finally look towards him.

“Bin, I–” Chan starts, his voice small. Changbin clicks his tongue, Chan instantly falling silent. Jisung curls up into himself on your lap in preparation for a lecture. Changbin steps back to lock the door, then turns back to the three of you.

“Got room for one more?”

#bang chan x male reader #m!reader #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #bang chan smut #bangchan smut #skz smut #sub!chan #sub!idol #sub!bangchan #chansung smut #chansung #han jisung smut #jisung smut #han smut #sub!jisung

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schlattslambo · 7 months ago

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please pleaeee do a sequel to the chubby reader x schlatt I've reread it soo many times I need more !!!

a/n: i gotchu bestie!! i am so glad that so many people like this! i may have gotten carried away with this one lmao. but im sorry that this took so long! work has just been kicking my ass

warnings: as before, female presenting reader, unprotected sex, just schlatt being super sappy and romantic

bigger girls are better | schlatt part 2 18+

It had been a few weeks since you last saw Jay, and the two of you had been in almost constant contact. With both of your schedules, it was hard to meet up, but today was the day that you were going to see each other again. Jay wouldn’t tell you this, but he was giddy as he waited for you to text him that you were ready to go on your date. You’d mentioned to him that girls like you never really got to go on dates with guys like him, so he was determined to take you on the best date ever.

Snow came down as you waited for Jay to pick you up. He’d promised that he was going to take you to a steakhouse. His favorite steakhouse to be exact, and you were excited. You weren’t sure what had come over Jay for him to like you, but you weren’t complaining. You just had to keep your guard up because there had to be a catch. He was so attractive, and you were, well, you were you.

A knock on your door brings you back to reality and you sigh, looking at yourself one final time in the mirror. Your hair is curled to perfection and your eyes pop with mascara and eyeliner behind your glasses. Your jeans hug your ass and your sweater is just baggy enough to hide your tummy. You open the door, revealing Jay standing there. He’s got khakis on and from what you can see, a nice collared shirt. He even ditched his hat.

“Holy shit,” He whispers, raking his eyes up and down your figure. “You look…holy shit.”

A giggle bubbles out of your mouth before you can stop it, color blooming on your cheeks.

“Do I look okay?” You ask. “I don’t really have anything that screams ‘steakhouse’.”

“You look like a goddess.” Jay says, his own cheeks finding some color. “I almost don’t want to go out to eat. I’d rather eat you out.”

You gasp and swat at his chest, which makes him laugh. “Shut up!” You yelp.

“C’mon, baby,” Jay says, linking his fingers with yours. “Let’s go get lunch.”

LIke the gentleman that he wants to show you that he is, Jay opens the passenger side door for you, allowing you to get in the car first. He gets into the driver’s seat and starts the drive to the steakhouse, his hand on your thigh.

“Have you ever been to a steakhouse before?” Jay asks you. You shake your head.

“The closest I get is going to the hibachi place around the corner.” You reply. “But I’ve always wanted to go to a steakhouse.”

When you pull up to the steakhouse, you realize that you might be a bit more nervous than you first thought. You attempt to swallow down your nerves and follow Jay in. He speaks to the hostess and the woman leads the two of you to the back. You’re sitting in a dimly lit area with a candle on the table. This steakhouse is way more romantic than you were expecting.

“I didn’t know that steakhouses had candlelit lunches.” You say with a smile.

“This one does.” Jay replies, his cheeks still flushed. “I wanted our date to be really romantic.”

You give Jay a warm smile as the waiter comes to your table and takes your drink orders. Soft music plays overhead and you can’t help the warm sensation that sits in your chest. Jay is staring at the menu, pretending to figure out what he wants to order, because if he looks at you for too long, he’s going to want to take you right here on the table. And that’s not very romantic.

The date goes well, despite both of your nerves. You’re both complementing each other and laughing softly together. Surely Jay is serious about this, you figure. He wouldn’t go through all of the trouble to get a reservation at this super fancy steakhouse if he was just here to get his dick wet. And his foot wouldn’t be resting against yours if he wasn’t serious about it either.

As Jay pays the bill, the two of you realize that the snow has really come down since you had gone into the steakhouse. The main roads are clear, thankfully, but the two of you have to clear off his car. By the time you’re done, you’re shivering and Jay just wants to get you home so you can warm up. He blasts the heat on the way back to your place, where you plan on lighting a fire in the fireplace.

Jay parks his car in your driveway, giving you a smile.

“You can come in if you want.” You offer. “I was gonna make some hot cocoa and light a fire.”

Jay takes you up on that offer, getting out of the car. As your foot crunches in the snow, you get an idea. You lean down and make a snowball, packing it tightly in your hands before launching it at Jay. It hits him in the shoulder and explodes, making him flinch.

“What the fuck?” He asks before his eyes land on you. “Oh, you little brat!”

You squeal as Jay runs at you, grabbing some snow as he does. You attempt to take off, but can’t really move quickly in the five inches of snow that sits on your lawn. Jay grips your shoulder and shoves snow down the back of your shirt, making you yelp and arch your back at the icey cold snow that’s now dripping down to your ass.

You whip around and attempt to do the same thing, but Jay’s quicker and stronger than you. He grips both of your wrists and attempts to turn you back around, but you slip and suddenly the two of you are in the snow. You throw some snow at Jay, which lands on his head, and he throws some at you, which lands just above your shirt. The two of you are laughing hysterically and unable to breathe.

“Lets get you inside and warmed up.” Jay says as he helps you up.

“I can throw your clothes into the dryer.” You offer as you unlock the door.

“That would be lovely.’ Jay replies.

The warmth of your house envelops the two of you as you walk in. You both strip out of your wet clothes and you take Jay’s clothes to the dryer. After putting them in, you realize that you’re both just in underwear, skin pink where you were laying in the snow. This is the first time you’ve seen Jay in just his boxers, and your eyes widen.

He’s large and broad, with the tiniest bit of tummy. The faintest dusting of brown hair sits in the middle of his chest and a happy trail that leads to his bulge. He’s looking at you with a shine in his eyes that you haven’t seen before. You’re standing there with your bra and panties (not matching because who the fuck has the time for that??), cellulite and tummy, thick thighs and all, and he’s looking at you like you hung the fucking moon.

“You’re so beautiful.” He says softly. “Like, wow.”

Jay walks up to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his forehead to yours.

“Yeah?” You ask. Jay nods.

“I know I’ve said it a lot these past few weeks, but I really mean it.” He whispers. “You’re the most beautiful girl I have ever laid eyes on. All of those fuckheads who said otherwise are idiots. You deserve to be worshiped.”

“I do?” You look up at Jay with wide eyes. He just nods with a smile.

“Can I worship you?” He asks, breathing against your lips.

At your nod, his lips attach to yours. The connection is nearly as hot and desperate as the fire crackling in the fireplace. You moan into his mouth and he presses you against him. You feel his hard cock pressing against your lower belly as he takes your bottom lip between your teeth. You back up until you reach your couch, allowing Jay to lay you back. His kisses stop for just a moment before he attaches his lips to your neck, smiling against your skin as you moan.

His hand travels behind your back and he unclips your bra with ease. Jay watches as your breasts fall out, nipples already hard at both his contact and the chill from outside.

“God,” He groans, leaning back down and taking a nipple into your mouth and nibbling on it.

Your back arches and Jay’s thigh is right between your legs. Your hips grind on it and Jay smiles, watching as your tits bounce.

“Atta girl.” Jay praises. “Make yourself feel good.”

“Fuck, I need you.” You gasp.

“Yeah?” Jay asks, hooking his fingers into your panties and pulling them down. “How do you need me?”

“Fuck me, Jay.” You sigh.

You watch as Jay takes his boxers down, his cock hitting his stomach. He strokes it a few times, smiling as you watch. One hand is around his cock and the other snakes between your legs. He finds your hole easily, and it’s already nearly dripping onto the couch. Two thick fingers plunge into your heat and you cry out. Jay teases you a bit, fingering you slowly. Every time his fingers go back into you, his thumb presses on your clit.

“Jay!” You whine. “Please!”

“So impatient.” Jay teases. “I’m just getting you ready, toots. I’m thick.”

You groan as Jay adds another finger. You look down and watch his cock. The head is an angry pink and the tiniest bead of precum is forming. His balls are tight behind his fist and he looks as if he’s holding back.

“Just fuck me already.” You beg. “Please, Jay, I need you inside me.”

“Yeah?” Jay asks. “You want my cock?”

You nod quickly, gasping as his cock slowly works its way inside of you. Jay groans deeply as you pull him in. You’re so warm and wet and your walls hug him so tightly. As he bottoms out, Jay attaches his lips to yours as your legs wrap around his waist.

He slowly starts moving, swallowing your moans as he kisses you roughly. One hand holds him up while the other reaches down and twists your nipple until your cunt flutters over him and you cry out. His balls slap against your ass as his thrusts get harder, wanting you to feel good. Jay looks down at you, your face twisted up in pleasure, and his cock twitches inside of you.

He can’t believe anyone would talk bad about you, ask you out as a joke, or anything like that. You’re so plush and warm and wet for him. And you’re so sensitive to his touches. He leans down, sinking his teeth into your neck before sucking. You cry out even louder, your pussy contracting.

“You close, baby?” Jay asks against your ear as you nod. “You gonna cum all over this cock?”

“Yes!” You cry out. “I’m gonna cum!”

Jay reaches down and strums your clit with his thumb, watching as you throw your head back in a silent scream. Your pussy holds him tight as you cum, making his orgasm hit him like a truck. He groans, his thrusts growing sloppier as he rides out his high, spurts of white painting your insides.

Both of you are out of breath as Jay’s cock softens inside of you. He pulls out, and before you can whine about the emptiness, he sticks a finger in.

“Don’t let any of this fall out.” He orders, pulling your panties up.

You’re pulled against him on the couch, him completely naked and you just wearing your undies. Your heart is racing and you look up at Jay, who’s combing his fingers through your hair. There’s a moment of silence, the only sounds being your breathing and the crackling of the fire. Jay smiles down at you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. After this, he feels like he’s on top of the world, but there’s one more thing that he needs to do.

“Hey, (y/n)?” He asks softly.

“Hm?” You hum from his chest.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

#chuckle sandwich #jschlatt #schlatt #chuckle sandwich smut #jschlatt smut #jschlatt x reader #schlatt x reader

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xazse · 1 year ago

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im in heat (ovulating) and I jus can't stop thinking about scaramouche helping his lil bunny out when shes in heat:(

love ur content btw, I literally shit myself when I found out u also wrote for jjk.. can I kiss u platonically

SCARAMOUCHE X FEM!BUNNYGIRLREADER

Notes: This is for you<3 and I’m glad you liked my jjk readings, (ofc you can have a platonic kiss!!!) HOPE YOU ENJOY<33

Tags: Smut all around! Tit-sucking, mentions of blowjobs, hybrid!reader, Heats

Pairings: SCARAMOUCHE X FEM!BUNNYGIRLREADER

You’ve been downright annoying, constantly bugging him with your insatiable behavior, whether it’s you gripping onto him for him to stay in bed with you, or it’s you rubbing yourself on him at night trying to stir him awake.

He doesn’t know what’s wrong with you, after another evening of you interrupting his private time he’s done. He takes you to the on site doctor, it doesn’t take 20 minutes before the doctor automatically says you’re in a “heat” since Scaramouche is confused the doctor gathers this must be your first one. He says that whatever needs you may be whining about can either be fulfilled or he can leave you to some specialists he knows, Scaramouche agaisnt that and just takes you back.

He’s taken a week off just for you, you should be happy for him to rot in this room with you constantly in his face, and you are, you show that in a tenthfold.

The first day is spent with you pawing at him and urging him to remove his clothing and yours as well. He can admit it is a little cute to see you beg.

Precise hands slip off your panties, you’re hot to the touch and absolutely dripping, poor bunny being denied for so long due to his confusion. His fingers slip into your cunt and begin fingering you, you’re positioned on your back with both legs spread out wide. Your small plush tail is twitching everytime he plunges his fingers deep into you, hearing small whimpers leaving your throat. His fingers are relentless with their assault on your sensitive insides, he makes sure to press on your spot every so often, sending you into a flurry of sexual emotions.

When he continues, he’s just surprised at the amount of cum coating his hands, the copious amount of slick close to his wrist. You look like you’re on cloud nine, glossed eyes, glossy lips covered in your drool is making him throb.

He quickly unbuttons his pants, letting his fat cock free. He uses his cum covered hand and coats his cock generously, you start to mewl at the loss of his fingers, already attempting to sit up he pushes you to lay back down.

“Relax woman” he scoffs out, your eyes wind down to the way he’s stroking himself, getting off to just the needy expression on your face, you take it a step further by lifting up your shirt, you didn’t even bother with a bra today. This really does the trick and he pounces onto you, so quick to line his cock up with your hole.

A few minutes later and he’s balls deep inside of you, your legs are wrapped around his torso, arms wrapped around his neck and your loud moans going right into his ear. His hips are moving so fast, cock bullying into you, you’re stuffed to the brim: yelping about how good it feels, how much you love him, it’s not long before your entire body pulls him closer and your cumming all around him.

The days afterwards are so dizzying, sex is all that plagues your mind, the room ends up being so hot, so sweaty, all you can think about is the thick cock filling you up, cumming inside you nonstop. Once he’d grabbed your tall ears while you were sucking him off, your fingers wildly rubbing your clit, and you let out the loudest Moan, you slumped against him, panting open mouthed: signaling that you just came for the 2nd time that random night.

The make-out sessions were just as dirty, it was mainly scara shoving his tongue down your throat, holding you by the wrists tight so you couldn’t pull back from it. He barely gave you time to take a break to breathe, lewd slurping sounds resonate through the room.

Scara also pleasures you by sucking on your breasts, though most times the stimulation isn’t there, but with your heat it’s at an all time high, your fingers tightens into his hair, urging him to not stop sucking.

#genshin smut #genshin x reader #zsworks #fem reader #hybrid reader #scaramouche x female reader #dom scaramouche #scaramouche smut #wanderer x female reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer smut #kunikuzushi smut #kunikuzushi x reader #wanderer x you

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themissinghand · 1 year ago

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hallo!! hope you're having a wonderful day and your works are just so good!!!

can i request for jinwoo with a photographer male reader that like works for events and stuff. plus, he always gets complimented by people, and even jinwoo, by how pretty he looks and asking if he ever gets photographed to which reader denied because he's actually camera shy

now, he's in an event at a park and jinwoo is there and sees reader taking photographs and jinwoo decides to be sneaky and tries to get a photo of reader but reader caughts him and just smiled at the camera before telling jinwoo to delete it.

jinwoo, in fact, did not.

im so sorry if this is too much or long JASJS

Solo Leveling: A Snapshot in Time

Summary: In which a picture is a thousand words, and Jinwoo wants to capture every moment with you.

Or, just domestic fluff between two loving husbands, from the beginning to the end.

Pairing: Husband! Sung Jinwoo x M! Photographer! Reader

Note: Thanks for your support! I’m glad that my stories are making you happy as I am writing them. One of my ways to de-stress honestly. Hope everyone is having a good day!

Warnings: A bit of angst, because time waits for no one.

★・・・・・・★

“Smile!”

Click!

“That’s it for today. Great work everyone.”

Jinwoo watched his husband scramble everywhere with your team to take wedding photos with a big smile on his lips.

No, Jinwoo is not jealous, after all, he has wedding photos of both of you.

Instead, he was simply awe-struck by how pretty his husband looks, especially when he’s passionate about his job.

“See you tomorrow at the office everyone!” You waved off your children (employees) and jogged towards Jinwoo who popped out from one of the shadows.

“Sorry, I didn’t think you would come so early to pick me up.” Jinwoo pulls you close and kisses your forehead, and you tippy-toe to return a kiss to his cheek.

“It’s okay, I got off work early. I love watching you work anyway.”

The two of you caught up with each other about your days, and you especially liked to hear about Jinwoo’s work considering he was a detective. Jinwoo however, does his best to avoid all the…graphic details of his work.

Even though Jinwoo knew you wouldn’t mind (you never did), he wanted only good things to happen to you.

(Because you were always there for him - until he couldn’t protect you)

“Jinwoo?”

“Can we take a selfie?” Jinwoo pulls out his phone to change the topic, but his husband quickly turns the other way and covers his face.

“Jinwoo! I don’t look good right now!” You shyly exclaim, but you couldn’t escape since Jinwoo held onto your shirt.

“Don’t worry, you’re beautiful.”

“Maybe next time Jinwoo.” Seeing your flustered expression, Jinwoo decided not to push further, instead he raised a pinky.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Jinwoo…I love you.”

The Monarchs had targeted you, leaving you in such a bloodied state.

“No. No!” Hearing your faint heartbeat, Jinwoo quickly pulled out his Holy Water of Life.

But it was too late.

“Why, why isn’t it working?!” But Jinwoo knew why - the Holy Water could not cure the dead.

“My Liege, His Highness has passed away.”

“Why…what happened.” Jinwoo crushed the empty bottle of Holy Water with his bare hands as he held you.

“It was an ambush. Multiple Monarchs have targeted His Highness in an instant, and we could not protect His Highness.”

All of his soldiers knelt down in shame.

“Please punish us My Liege. We fail you.”

Jinwoo held your body close as he shed tears, before his tear turn into fuel for his rage.

“Your punishment will be due later, we will hunt down the Monarchs.”

“Yes My Liege!” Jinwoo saw your peaceful expression, as if nothing had gone wrong.

“If…we meet in our next life, I swear I will protect you.”

Carrying your body into his shadow realm and resting you in a casket, all of his shadows knelt in respect.

“Wait for me, (Y/N).”

“Honey? Another nightmare?” Jinwoo felt a finger gently pressing on his forehead, and drawing on his arm.

He slowly opens his eyes, his breathing shaking as he pulls you close.

“Oh dear. Was it bad?”

He nods, and hugs you tighter. You pat him on the back and whisper sweet words to him.

“I love you.”

“Whatever you do, I’ll support you.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t leave you.”

Do you know? Of course not.

All of it was in the past, and Jinwoo hopes it stays that way.

Even if the world is peaceful, he knows how cruel people can be, that’s why, he’s learned his lesson and stationed many of his shadows around you.

Never again.

Click!

“Okay, a few more before our break!” It was a fashion shoot, and you even dressed up a bit more to match the elegant theme.

Dressed in a fancy blue suit, Jinwoo believed you too could stand on stage. Even the director of the shoot itself invited you, but you didn’t dare considering you were camera shy.

But Jinwoo knew it would be such a shame if no one captured this moment.

“(Y/N).” Jinwoo called out, quickly whipping out his phone.

“What-” You were surprised, and before you shield yourself from the camera, Jinwoo winked.

“Promise.”

He could see you muttering “fine”, before a gentle smile graced your lips.

Click!

“You have to delete it okay?” You whispered, and Jinwoo nodded.

But if fact, he did not.

After all, he knew it wasn’t just him who took photos of you, so of course that wouldn’t do. He immediately had shadows mess with those photographers and steal some of the good ones for himself.

The photo became his phone screen.

And Jinwoo makes sure that he captures every moment, because unlike him, you were not immune to time.

“Jinwoo…thank you for loving me. I don’t know why, but from the moment I met you to now, I always feel like I’ve known you for a long long time.”

Jinwoo sits by your hospital bed, holding your wrinkled hand.

“Maybe because we met in our last life.” You chuckle, before coughing.

“Even when we’re old now, you still look so handsome.” Jinwoo chuckle lightly before pressing a kiss to your hand.

We promised we'll be together forever.

“No, you’re more beautiful.” A bright, youthful smile rose to your lips, making Jinwoo reminisce to the past as young adults.

But alas, time is so cruel.

“Jinwoo, I pray that we meet in our next life.”

Jinwoo decided to respect you and let you go.

“I love you.” With a final breath, your hand remains limp in his, and tears rolled down his cheeks.

“I love you too.”

Jinwoo’s phone lights up with dozens of missed calls and messages, but he doesn’t mind, instead, he removes them all to reveal a timeless treasure, a photo of you smiling at the camera.

“Wait for me, (Y/N).”

#manhwa #solo leveling #sung jin woo x reader #sung jin woo x male reader #sung jinwoo x reader #sung jin woo #sung jinwoo #solo leveling fic #solo leveling headcanons #x male reader #x male y/n #light angst #shadow soldiers #domestic fluff #solo leveling fluff

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lixies-favorite-cookie · 11 months ago

Text

doomsday ◦ h.j

—Sometimes doomsday wasn't the crumbling of a city; doomsday was an apocalypse of the mind

@anon im so glad you requested this bc I literally loved writing it so much like it fr had my creative juices FLOWING so feel free to request anytime babes

Paring ◦ Han x reader

Words ◦ 5231

Genre ◦ Hurt and comfort, ngl this angsty asf

Warnings ◦ han is a dick at the beginning but he is redeemed, panic attacks, language (like fr so many fucks in this its wild), talk about wasting your life, anxiety, fear, han is such a cunt at first its insane, not edited, uhhh I think that's it.

A/N ◦ This one is chaotic asf so if you don't like my chaotic writing this is definitely where you might wanna click off 💀ALSO IF YOU LIKED THIS PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE TELL ME like it literally doesn't have to be much you can just be like it was pretty cool

~CookieCreates🍪

Sometimes it felt like Han gave away the numbers of the clock like dollar bills, bartering off a life that only ever seemed to be rushing away like a river roaring down the rocks too fast. He scoops little moments out from the shimmering rapids, but time still trickles between his fingers; the hours melting together like wax dripping down the spindly hands, its bony fingers-

reaching

r e a c h i n g

out to him, pulling him into a pool at the bottom of his feet, a pool of glittering, glowing memories.

Is this all life is?

Working

Stressing

Never sleeping

Never eating

Is the praise worth it?

Those hopeless nights, endless days, tired eyes, and a mind made of mush—was it all worth it?

Was any of it worth it?

The roar of the crowds drowning out the sound of the seconds-

tick

ticking away, the shuffle of the sand seeping into the bottom of the hourglass—he taps the crystal dome, wondering how much of it is left—wondering when it all will stop.

When he can stop.

Han was a fizzing bottle of soda—shook for too long—today was hard; every day before a comeback is: producing, singing, dancing, learning, watching, waiting-

Checking off boxes on a list that never ended, so when he finally walks into the door of your shared apartment, a room he feels like he hasn't seen in weeks, he doesn't really notice you anxiously sitting on the couch, your knees bouncing on the floor mindlessly-

snapping

on the linoleum, something so simple shouldn't set him off, sure, but the sound was so familiar—so scary—it vibrated in his head, booming in his brain seconds-

ticking

ticking away

your feet

snapping

snapping on the ground.

He comes home to get away from the world rushing out from under him, so why were you sitting there being so fucking-

“Hannie!” You beam, sprinting over to throw your arms around his neck, breathing his scent in. It feels like centuries since you've seen him last. You vibrate with nervous, excited energy, practically bouncing up and down; but the thing was, right now he didn't want to be touched.

He didn't want to be held

He didn't want to have to talk

He didn't want to have to remember he had a life outside of the bubble that was his work. It felt like he was tending to gardens he didn't know how to grow. Your relationship had already sprouted; the seed planted a while ago, but even though the delicate stages of its development had passed, that didn't mean that it still didn't have to be cared for, and right now, he didn't care about anything.

It was selfish, sure, but when you've spent your whole life giving parts of yourself away, selfishness seems so easy, at least while you still have small slivers of your soul left.

He grates his teeth, everything seeming so wholly overwhelming, the walls encapsulating him in an unbreakable hourglass. He was so stressed, so tired, so done, so trapped. His breath stutters when you squeeze him tighter, nuzzling your nose against his shirt, staring up at him expectantly, eyes shimmering.

"I haven't hugged you in forever I missed your face" you giggle voice like clouds of cotton candy but not quite sweet enough to dull the sour feeling settling in his stomach

He knows that love should never feel this hard, but right now everything he did felt hard, and the way you stare at him so longingly like you're going to combust if he doesn't perform, put on a fake smile, and act like everything is okay makes him feel like a fizzing bottle of soda with a lid screwed on too tight, and when you grip him tighter, trying to push an answer out of him

He flips his lid.

"Holy shit, y/n, do you have to be so bombarding?" He snaps, pushing your arms away from him, almost looking disgusted. Your smile slips, staring at him in shock, still not really registering what he said.

He doesn't know what feels worse—the way your features tremble with hurt or the way he knows he doesn't care.

"I'm tired; I just want to go to bed, okay, and you are immediately rushing me; every day as soon as I get through the door, it's exhausting."

"You can't be serious," you whisper, genuinely believing what you said. He couldn't be serious. There was no way in hell he really believed that, but it didn't matter if he believed it or not; it all still hurt the same.

He wishes he could overlook the flames that flare in your eyes, consuming the stars that always seemed to shimmer.

What did he just do?

He sighs, collapsing onto the couch, digging the palms of his hands into his drooping eyes. He was so scared; the fear loosing his lips and everybody knows words of fear are the greatest lies.

"Yes, I'm serious. Do you know how much work you are? I work all day, work, work, work, work everybody needs me always wanting, always needing something, something, fucking something," he growls, smacking his hands against his thighs, thrown into an unexplainable rage. "And as soon as I get home, you need me too; everybody is so fucking needy." The next words he says feel like an earthquake erupted in your soul, splitting your heart in two.

"Your so fuckin' needy."

You flutter your eyelashes shut, pushing back emotions that boil in your brain. There are so many feelings fighting for the light, but instead of screaming, crying, or lashing out, you take a deep breath and fold your arms, calmly asking

"Then why don't you just break up with me then?" There is nothing more terrifying than a woman whose fire rages behind a veil of ice, but when he looks up, watching the flames wrap around your posture, wisping around every edge of your bones, and even with the ashes of the love you once had for him fluttering in the wind, he still opens his big, fat, fucking mouth.

"Or maybe I should have just never asked you out in the first place." No sooner did he spit the sentence out, did he want to shove it right back in his mouth. Your shoulders droop, eyes filling with an almost impossible amount of pain.

The earth crumbles, the walls of your shared home collapsing around you, rubble lost in all the memories that flicker away like embers floating from the burning configuration that was your relationship. It was ironic how the world worked; it took years to build up the love you felt and only a single sentence to wash it all away. You never thought you would see armageddon, but when those letters left his lips, you quickly realized sometimes doomsday wasn't the crumbling of a city; doomsday was an apocalypse of the mind.

"Okay," you croak, hot tears streaming down your face; a wobbly smile pulls at your lips almost out of habit, facial muscles forced out of memory.

You have never once imagined yourself drowning under so many words left unsaid, sinking in the waves of tears you fought back, and as you trudged up the stairs, sinking into your bed, you wondered when you would hear the begrudging footsteps—the hesitant knocks. Wondered when you'd hear his soft apology—a voice racked with guilt—but your fantasy never came.

All you heard was the clicking of the clock behind you, counting down the hours where he disappointed you again and again

You don't know what got to you first—the peirce of realization that he didn't regret the bitter insults that left his lips so easily or when you saw the calendar that peaked from the corner of your closet-

5 days

5 days left unmarked

5 days left blank

5 days until you celebrated your 3 year anniversary

Han Jisung would never know you were counting down the days

Han should have runned after you, and in perspective, after a good night's sleep and a nice warm meal, he has never felt so completely stupid for not, but after you trudged up the stairs with a pained smile and glassy eyes, he was so starkly shocked he had said something so disgustingly distasteful his feet stuck to the ground, and finally, after hours of staring at the pool of time bubbling by his shoes, he drifted into a restless sleep.

It was as though his terror tainted him, making the glassy parts of his heart dirty, and when he took the edge off, it was like a harsh wipe away at all the murk, revealing his jarring reflection in the pearly mirror.

He was such a jerk

He whimpers, running anxious fingers through his hair. He has no viable excuse, no good reason why he treated you so poorly—for someone so obsessed with time, he should know that you can't get your life back—can't turn the hands of the clock

Push rewind

Hit replay

For what value would life be if you could just start it all over again? The impossibility made all the precious moments sweeter, but like every good thing, it made memories like these all the more foul.

You didn't deserve that

He didn't deserve you

and as you slink down the stairs, eyes red-rimmed and puffy. He can't stop that booming voice biting at the back of his brain.

How long will it take you before you realize that too?

You flick your gaze to him, burning with loathing cloaked behind layers of indifference. It floors him—those subtle signs of hatred that swim in the back of your eyelids, hidden in small twitches of your features, your almost tangibly cut off, throwing up your walls, shutting him out in more ways than one.

He had always worried about the gardens he was growing; flowers that sprung around him rapidly, fighting to figure out which one to water first, and all while your petals wilted and your roots curled up-

You waited

You watched as he bled himself dry. He shutters, everything bursting before his eyes—the love you once had for him flickering like the last flashes of a dying star. You're a million miles away, dancing on the craters of the moon, fluttering around the twinkling rings of Saturn. He folds himself deeper into the couch, almost hoping it will swallow him whole—pull him into the burning inferno beneath—even hell would be cooler than the fire that was your gaze. Han Jisung never thought he'd see the day when the galaxy would collapse, but staring at you, flaring your final goodbyes, he realizes that doomsday was closer than he thought.

"Baby," he whispers, his voice heavy with guilt, how easy it is to start a fire when you don't care about putting it out, but now that the wisps of flame consume you, he wishes he had never given you the kindling.

You don't look at him as you walk around the kitchen, pouring a bowl of cereal. He stands up hesitantly, anguish feeling like an iron rod through his chest. He creeps into the kitchen, stepping lightly into the room like it's laced with landmines.

"Please." His voice cracks—splits right down the middle, a perfect reflection of the cleave that was his soul. "I'm so sorry."

You place the cereal back in the cabinet and open the fridge to retrieve the milk.

The silence is deafening.

The all too familiar-

tick

of time trickling away rings in his ears

How much more of it does he have left?

How much more of this silence can he take?

You ignore him, strolling right past his trembling frame, racked with regret. It pulsates off his in palpable waves. You're so nonchalant so careless. He almost wants you to turn around and smack him, throw that stupid bowl of cereal in his face. Instead, you jog up the stairs, slamming the door behind you.

Is that the only door you shut?

Han had always thought of the apocalypse as an idea only found in novels, tucked away behind the pages of a book, hidden in the comfortable corner of science fiction, because that's all it was, right— fiction? But as your dead eyes scrape his figure up and down, he realizes that Doomsday wasn't really fiction at all. Just like the world wasn't always a place, sometimes the world was a person, and right now his world was ravaged by a deadly disease, an illness that only infected the soul, an illness only transferred through the careless bitter words found in the English language. Fire was nature's greatest purifier, and sure, the walls of the home he lived in weren't warped with flames of your fury, but the home he had made in your heart was

It's been 3 days

3 days since he's felt the touch of another human.

3 days since he made the biggest mistake of his lifetime.

3 days since he dropped a devasting bomb on your relationship, and the shrapnel was finally hitting him; curled pieces of cold metal lodged somewhere in between the folds of his soul.

3 brutal bone-crushing days of pure ear-splitting silence—It was almost scientifically impossible, just how quiet you were. It was an art really, every brush of anguish accurately painted on—every ignored apology, every piercing glare, every single star that flickered out in your eyes. You were strategic, meticulous, you were plain vicious-

and you had every right to be.

You were fully justified in your actions, and yet he felt like he was still teetering over the edge of madness. The thought of losing you like a noose snaking around his neck, choking him in an unadulterated form of terror

He has been stricken by anxiety his whole life, but the thought of a world without you filled him with an inexplicable amount of fear—the kind that burrows in your bones, decaying in your soul—the kind of terror that your still stuck digging from your skin for centuries to come—the kind of fear that makes you simply

panic.

His hands shake as he pushes the door open, feeling like he's walking into an open war. The pages of a dystopia form walls around him, caging him inside a bombarding capsule of storming English.

The harsh contrast of the hurricane in his mind and the indifference in your eyes sends him reeling. You were lying on the couch, mindlessly flipping through the channels, not sparing him a glance.

You were so beautiful so breathtaking, but for once, he wasn't admiring your beauty.

He was

falling

apart.

Oh, fuck, he was freaking out.

He had finally caved under the pressure of always having to perform a false, flimsy smile, wobbling on his lips, pretending to be okay as he watched the life drain out of your eyes; the passion seeping from his songs.

He loved making music, but what is art without chaos?

What is beauty without love?

What is the world without you?

He always had to be perfect; he always had to be put together. He was always running on all cylinders, always hanging on by a fraying straining thread, and finally, it snapped.

The earth is

t i l t i n g,

flipping around,

turning upside down, and

i n s i d e o u t.

Guilt rips through his chest, yanking out harsh bouts of oxygen from his constricting lungs.

He can't breathe

He can't fucking

He was going to die-

He was going to collapse into himself, busting into a flaring supernova.

He was going to be his own demise-

Forming his own doomsday-

He has never thought of himself as an author, but before he could stop his mouth from moving, he was already caged between the sentences of his own personal apocalypse, living a waking nightmare.

He created a story with his stupidity, and now he has to pay the price.

He was the end of your relationship-

what has he done?

He can't b r e a t h e

"Y-Y/n I can't," he choked on his words, watching the walls wash away like watercolor dripping down the page.

He can't lose you

He's going to die

He stumbles into the living room, tripping over his feet, his breath staggering in his throat. He catches himself on the arm of the couch, digging his nails into the soft leather, gripping it like it was his tether, keeping him from floating into space—burning up in the atmosphere, his body bouncing around the icy rocks.

"Fuck," he gasps, squeezing his eyes shut and clawing at his chest, almost as if he scratches his skin hard enough, he can finally pull out the hourglass that keeps ticking his time away. His heart pounded wildly, almost begging to be free from the confines of his ribcage. The fact that it was still beating was beyond him.

His heart only beats for you.

His heart will only ever beat for you.

How was he alive when you were drifting away? moon dust dancing in your lungs, would you become a ruler of the skies, while he was still stood still?

"Han," your voice sounds like cotton candy kisses and honey dribbles. He never thought he would ever be so happy to hear somebody so alarmed, but right now that was the only thing keeping him from shattering.

You jump up from the couch, your face pulled in concern.

He doesn't deserve it

Doesn't deserve it

He's drowning in a pool of his self-inflicted sorrows. He's sinking, and the only thing that could save him was you.

How do you save a man who won't take your hand?

"N-No, im okay," he barley pushes the words out, weaving between the thick lump that's forming in his throat.

It was a lie

Everything was a lie

That's all he was

a liar

"Han," your voice is warm and inviting, sucking him in, wrapping around him like a blanket in the cold, a bowl of soup to a sick stomach. You healed him even when he was the one who created the wound. You pull him in, taking his trembling frame into your arms. Gentle fingers thread through his hair as soft lullabied wispers float through the air.

He feels so safe

So secure-

So loved-

He never thought he would feel the tenderness of your touch again, so when your comforting arms squeeze him right off the edge of destruction,

c o l l a p s e s

crumbling into a million sobbing, sniveling pieces before you, he sinks to the ground, dragging you along with him.

He always brought you down-

Always took you with him-

He was a disease-

An infection-

He was your armageddon

He sags against your body, limply moving like a rag doll. You let him curl into your chest, holding him like pieces of pierced punctuation.

You guys were a shattered semicolon inverted and upside down.

There was so much he wanted to say—so many apologies, so many explanations, so many different synonyms for sorry—but you didn't need them; you never needed them; you needed him, and there was nothing he could ever say that would change that.

You hum, rubbing soothing circles on his back. You were always the perfect metaphor, a marveling form of pristine poetry. Your touch was like fleeting promises on the skin, the delicate tickle of a blooming flower, the comfortable heat of a burning star. You weren't just his world; you were his universe.

He pulls you closer to him, clinging like a desperate dying animal, nuzzling his face in your neck.

"I'm so sorry, baby, I'm so fucking sorry!" He blubbers the sentences onto your skin, as though the deeper he burrows into your body, the faster they can travel to your heart.

"Han," you lull, a small smile grazing your face, physically having to claw him off of you. He does begrudgingly, a minuscule whimper tumbling out of his throat from the lack of contact; he doesn't meet your eyes. He can't—not when the clock still ticks your time away, not when he's still not fully sure that you're willing to turn the hands back.

He's devastated, his eyes red and puffy with tears that cascade down his cheeks, shining in the overhead light.

"Please don't leave me." He sniffles, rubbing his nose against the fabric of his shirt, bottom lip trembling. "I don't want our time to run out. All my time is running out. Everything is running out. I can't, I-" he stutters, tripping over letters that latch onto his teeth like cactuses digging into his lips.

You furrow your brows, tilting your head in sympathetic confusion. "What do you mean, baby?"

He screws his eyes shut, his hands shaking almost aggressively on his thighs. Why did he say anything? How does he explain something like that? He tries to form the words on his tongue, but they stick to the roof of his mouth like glue. Speaking it into the universe makes it so much more real, so much more raw, because now it isn't a metaphor, a fictional little whisper that fucks with his mind.

The earth quivers in its orbit as he opens his mouth-

Was he really going to admit this?

Was he even ready to admit this?

"It feels like my life is running out," he stammers, the words tasting so sour on his tongue. "My life is so stressful; everybody always needs something from me, and sometimes it feels like I'm dishing out so many slivers of my soul that I don't even have any of it left." He lets out a shaky breath, attempting to get his heart rate somewhere that resembles normal.

"I'm always up, always working, always doing something, and it's scary to think while I'm wasting my life working so hard doing something I don't really love." He aggressively wipes the tear that drops down his cheek with the palm of his hand. "It's so scary wondering if I'm ever making the right decisions."

He feels so small under your gaze.

"A-And the other day was so hard," he cries, fresh waves of tears blurring his vision as he reminisces on the events.

"Everybody was yelling at me, always needing something demanding so fucking much; they were playing puppet, forcing my hands in a way they didn't want to move; everybody was so just so needy-"

"And so was I," you whisper, filled with guilt. It breaks him. Your so understanding, so loving, so forgiving, so perfect.

How did he even get you?

His heart wrenches as he dives into your arms-

"No, no, no, no," he shouts, shaking his head against your shirt. "No, love, you didn't do anything wrong; it was me. Me and my shitty mood—it was all my fault. I blew up at you. You were trying to be the amazing, loving girlfriend you are, and what I said was solely because of my fear. The exhaustion and anger didn't exactly help either"

"But there are no more buts," he pulls away, catching your eyes burning with sincerity. "There is no excuse for the way I treated you; there is no justification, just explanation."

You smile, tilting your head in adoration. You would be lying if you didn't say you were relieved, because you were. You thought he believed the words he said—what feels like forever ago—that you were the annoying, needy girlfriend that only ever bugged him, but he didn't believe what he said. No, he was just a ticking time bomb waiting to blow—a ball of stressed and nervous energy channeled into the wrong source.

"It's okay, Hannie, really, we're okay"

He was a supernova—a burning, bursting flame of bright, beautiful colors

Han had once thought that the stars in your eyes had flickered away, but now he knows even the most enchanting things have to die before they can transform.

He loves you.

He has loved you for 2 years and 363 days.

He will love you until the world goes up in flames.

He will love you until the planet bleeds with the wounds of armageddon.

"Does this mean we can still celebrate our 3-year anniversary?" He asks sheepishly, looking up at you through fluttering eyelashes. You perk up, visibly brightening.

"You remembered!"

"I never forgot." he smiles, eyes shimmering with hope.

"I've been counting down the days," you grin.

"So have I," but he hasn't been counting down the days until you celebrate 3 beautiful years on this planet together. No, he's been counting down the days until his body slips into the grave, but as he presses his ear to your heart, it feels like the steady beats were a swelling symphony orchestrated just for him. He sighs contently, nuzzling deeper into your chest. The terrifying tick of the clock faded away, drowned out by the song of your soul whispering sweet promises into his ear. Sure, the fear still tickled the back of his brain, but instead of worrying that time was trickling away, he pulls you closer because with you, there was never a wasted moment.

©CookieCreates (posted: July, 9th 2024) All rights reserved. Do not translate, copy, or claim my works as yours! I only post on this platform so if any of my works are elsewhere, report and notify me immediately

~cookie🍪

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