#intrusive thought station

[collarful-clover]

Me watching Watcher become the rich Shane would want us to steal from

[nihilism-0]

Next train does not stop.

[obsessedwithceleste]

Does anyone else go from writing like 3 fics in a week to the very idea of writing making you want to actually vomit or is that just me? ~a retired English major (me af)

[suffering-for-eternity]

do not shoplift do not shoplift ooh cowboy hat do not shoplift that bathroom is surprisingly nice DO NOT SHOPLIFT

[negative-speedforce]

This is the handwash station.

Your hands are now clean of any reblog bait you didn't engage with, any compulsions you didn't obey, or any other intrusive thoughts or mental spiraling.

[writing-prompt-s]

You're the HR director at an interplanetary space station staffed by humans and mind-reading aliens, and must conduct quarterly training for aliens about why humans' intrusive thoughts are harmless.

[kumkaniudaku]

Spoiled

Summary: Tensions boil over on the Thanksgiving trip to New Orleans.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 3,060

Warnings: Smut (18+ content)

Previous: Sorry 2024

“Where’s Treece?” 

Terry couldn’t care less but entertained the question for his mother’s sake as he took the seat closest to the window at their reserved table for a late breakfast. 

“In the room pouting,” He grumbled with his annoyed glare focused solely on the breakfast menu. “She’ll be down eventually. Or not. I don’t know or care.”

Marvin chuckled over his mug of coffee. “I’m not all that convinced, son, but I’ll let you have it.” 

As much as they were lovers, Terry and Patrice were friends who bickered like siblings. Petty back and forths reared their ugly heads at inopportune moments, leading to heated, silent arguments. A refusal to raise their voices at each other out of respect resulted in hushed whispers and sarcastic jabs that were so ridiculous to those not involved that Terry’s parents often referred to them as live telenovelas. 

Their latest episode was the most trivial to date. 

Separate families stationed in conflicting parts of the country forced the newest Richmond couple to compromise on how they split their holiday schedule. With a family known for their culinary pursuits, Terry naturally claimed Thanksgiving for his side. Although she couldn’t bear the thought of missing her Nana’s fresh apple pie, Patrice compromised with the caveat that their New Year’s plans were neutral ground for them and them alone. Handshake and lip lock agreements set them on a path to plan for the final six weeks of the year. 

For all of his careful planning, Terry didn’t anticipate how his wife’s commitment to the pupils under her care would collide with his plans to spend extended time in New Orleans. 

“Baby, it’s just two days.” He explained to Patrice while he helped clear the table after dinner one evening. “I’ll get you on the first flight out Wednesday morning. Promise.” 

“I know, but still. I’m gonna miss you. We’re not apart that often.” 

“We’ll make it worth the wait once you get there.” 

Repeated promises to steal some alone time once reunited preceded quick kisses as Terry prepared to join his parents and siblings on a flight early Monday morning. But, once the sun set on their first day apart in months, loneliness and frustration set in for Patrice. Text messages slowed to a creep. Sparse voice notes attempted to fill the void left in their near-silent home. She wasn’t mad at Terry for enjoying time with his loved ones. She was pissed at herself for being so lovesick that her stomach churned. Sickening. This type of yearning was sickening.

Excitement took a backseat to unshakeable irritability on her solo flight to the Big Easy on Wednesday morning. No hugs, kisses, or meaningful conversation for 48 hours could send even the most solitary person over the edge. Terry sent messages in droves to share his excitement for her arrival and she fought the urge to snap back at him. His smiling face greeting her at the hotel’s front entrance briefly soothed her ire until the reality that they couldn’t shake his family’s company set in. 

Every private conversion came with an intrusion. Kisses meant to go further than a quick peck were interrupted before they could start. Attempts at sneaking away never came to fruition. Soon, Patrice’s sour attitude became Terry’s disposition. He knew his anger was misdirected, but couldn’t find the words to explain his annoyance. 

They didn’t speak before bed Wednesday night and barely looked at each other Thursday morning. One angry Richmond was enough. Two made everyone uncomfortable. 

“It’s time for breakfast, Treece.” What Terry intended as an innocent reminder came out as a gruff bark that he couldn’t take back before Patrice opened her mouth to respond. 

“I know! I can see the time!” 

“Then hurry up!” 

“Fuck it! I’ll eat by myself!” 

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

Their silly exchange ended with Terry tossing the second hotel key on the bed before he stomped out of the room, allowing the door to slam behind him. 

The moment replayed in his head as he scanned the menu for something they could share in case she made her way out of self-imposed solitary confinement. 

“Well, I hope she makes it down. I wanted her to try a few things,” DeeDee added, unaware that the entire conversation was pushing her son to his limits. “The French toast is something.” 

Terry rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, if you can get her off the third floor, do whatever you please.”

“She’s probably happy to have you out of her back pocket. My girl can’t catch a break,” Zorah teased. 

Zanah laughed and shook her head. “You haven’t seen Patrice. I swear she was trying to climb into his skin when the elevator doors opened last night. They’re equally insane.” 

“See what happens when you end up in grown folks’ business?” 

“Oh, please.” 

Zanah childishly stuck out her tongue and received a middle finger pulled out of his hoodie’s front pocket as a prize for her antics. 

“Stop it, you two.”

“I thought when y’all became adults all this shit would slow up,” Marvin groaned, shaking his head as his two stubborn children traded schoolyard insults just short of joking about each other’s mama. Movement in his periphery offered what he hoped was a change of pace. “Oh thank God. The guest of honor is here.”

Patrice offered a weak wave and smile upon her approach, hoping they couldn’t see the remnants of a frustrated cry on her face. Terry could, though. He flashed her a concerned look and she answered with eyes that begged him not to inquire further. A round of hugs and greetings sent her to the empty seat across from her husband. 

The friction between them was palpable. They didn’t extend each other the luxury of pet names and googly-eyed grins like they normally would. Time spent canoodling was replaced by stolen glances and tight-lipped requests to pass over utensils. 

DeeDee cleared her throat for their attention. “Um, hi. Mom checking in here. Is there a problem between you two that we should be aware of?” 

“No,” Patrice answered loud enough to eclipse whatever Terry attempted to share. “We’re fine. James is not feeling very affectionate this morning for reasons unknown, but we’re fine outside of that. Right, James? Just fine, huh?”

“Peachy. Nicole is throwing a tantrum over God knows what but Nicole refuses to say more than three words to me at a time, so, while I love Nicole, I will not spend my morning chasing her around because Nicole is not a child and can use her words.”

Terry’s rant came through gritted teeth, leaving him almost out of breath as he neared the end. 

Patrice couldn’t formulate a rebuttal despite wanting to take their spat to the next level. She could only hang on to the firmness in his tone, the words sounding more like a warning than an explanation for their distance. Terry caught the flicker of something mischievous in her eyes and how she slowly crossed her legs beneath the table before grazing her foot against his clothed calf. His frown faltered for a moment. An unspoken understanding was telepathically communicated.

Four sets of eyes stared back at the standoff in utter confusion. 

Zanah took a loud sip of water to snap them out of their trance. “Oh-kay. So, I was thinking about gettin’ this crawfish omelet. Daddy, you oughta get the quesadilla so I can get a piece of that and, Zo, you get the Benny.” 

“But I don’t wanna share my food with you.” 

“Zorah! We are twins. We share!”

Chatter about seafood dressing and late-night spades tournaments planned for the rest of the day swirled around Terry and Patrice as they maintained senseless anger, too committed to the misunderstanding to relent without feeling embarrassed. 

The quiet simmer of mixed emotions followed them after tabs were paid, cocktails were consumed, and the elevator lifting them to the third floor was emptied of spectating parties. Terry pretended to type into his phone while sneaking looks at the way Patrice’s ass sat up in her leggings. 

“You wanna talk when we get in or what?” 

Patrice turned to look over her shoulder. “We can.” Her eyes caught the slow lick of his bottom lip before flickering back up to find him already watching her. “If you want.” 

“Good. I’m tired of the attitude.” 

“Great because I’m tired of yours.”

Having a civil discussion became a background thought once the soft buzz and click of their room door put them seconds away from the privacy they so desperately craved. 

Terry covertly slid the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the outside handle before double-checking the deadbolt lock and metal latch. Patrice busied herself with the television remote, turning a rerun of CSI: Miami up to a reasonable volume. Just enough to drown out an explosive meeting of minds or bodies. 

“Ready?” Terry questioned as he pulled his hoodie up, then over his head to deposit it on the back of the nearby desk chair. “We only have an hour or so before we need to head out.” 

“I think we can settle this pretty quick. Don’t you?” 

“Depends. I got a lot to say.”

They watched each other step out of their shirts, socks, and pants, still pretending that some relationship chat was on the other side of their time together. 

Down to thin layers of underwear and insatiable desire, they met for skin-to-skin contact. Patrice set a pace that only Terry could match. Frantic hands gripped broad shoulders to hike one long leg around his waist. Heavy hands found a home beneath round ass for a full sensory experience. 

Patrice pulled away from a messy kiss for a deep enough breath to bark instructions at her phone for a 15-minute timer. The race was on. Friction would either bring a resolution or be why they found common ground. 

Words were hard to come by during a hungry heavy-petting period. Shared breaths and wandering hands communicated every need, peeling away the last barriers that kept them separated. Touch me like this. Kiss me there. I need you here. 

Soon, the itchy hotel carpet pressed into the delicate skin of Patrice’s knees while she looked up at a clenched jaw and flexed abs. She wanted to feel him grow to all of his glory inside her mouth, and he was happy to oblige her request. A fist full of knotless braids kept Terry feeling like he had control of the situation, though they both knew the truth. 

Gagging and gawking provided a filthy auditory masterpiece that he hoped to remember for as long as he lived. Curses meant as praise fueled her performance as she pressed crescent moons into his thighs to remain stable. Her lash extensions drooped under the weight of alligator tears. Her jaw ached from being stretched to capacity over and over. Her thighs burned from her kneeling position. None of the discomforts could deter her from the goal. 

Terry gently placed a warm palm on Patrice’s cheek, admiring her work with a hazy smile. “Missed me, huh?” he breathed out, earning a grin. 

“Mhmmm.”

“I missed you, too. Come here.”

“Missed” was an understatement. A flat-out lie. He was just as needy, just as excited to be inside her, just as ready to abandon demure social norms to unleash the lust and love brewing inside as she was. 

An indescribable pleasure emerged from using and being used. No holds barred. Unrestrained aside from muffled groans unleashed into crisp white pillowcases and skin slick with fresh sweat. 

Terry kept Patrice’s chest pressed into the bed with one hand splayed between her shoulder blades and the other tangled at her roots. She fisted the sheets to keep a grip on the bed and reality while her eyes went in and out of focus. An open mouth produced choked squeaks between sharp breaths. She listened to her name roll from her lover’s lips like a sonnet written just for her. 

He was close. His body tensed with every stroke. Sweet talk broke into throaty groans. Hips lost their rhythm as they sought deeper connection. It was a good angle, but Patrice knew it could be better. It had to get better. This had to be worth it. Who knew when they’d have the chance to fuck each other senseless in the city they made their first commitment to rekindle an almost forgotten flame?

“Let me see you,” Patrice moaned, her head turned just enough to get Terry’s attention. “Please. I wanna see your face.” 

Exhausted limbs shifted and reconnected at the head of the bed, dragging linens along with them. Patrice propped her body on one elbow to shorten the distance between their faces before pulling Terry into a kiss by the back of his head. He was equally tender and possessive, leading with full lips and a tongue eager to taste the remnants of juice and syrup left inside her mouth. 

Then came fingers. Patrice replaced her swollen lips with her middle and ring digits in search of lubrication for other pursuits. The dull ache between her legs needed concentrated attention to reach the promised land. Terry didn’t need further direction. He did as he was told with a gaze just playful enough to convey that he knew what was up. He couldn’t wait to witness what she had in store. 

Their foreheads pressed together as they focused on the slow, lazy circles Patrice drew on her pearl. Terry added his contribution according to her pace, drawing in and out so dazed that he wouldn’t have been able to repeat his name if prompted. 

His brow furrowed to match his effort. “Fuckin’ beautiful.” 

He meant his compliment for his wife though he spoke the words to the body responsible for his glee in the moment. She giggled and threw her head back like a cowgirl to enjoy the ride.

Terry readjusted his angle to chase her lips as a familiar tingle set in. His arms hooked one leg at the bend of her knee before pressing forward on one hand for leverage to drive faster. Harder. 

They were close again, each chasing an individual high harder and faster than before. 

Patrice tried to play innocent as her sultry voice egged him on with seemingly innocuous statements. “You’re so good to me, baby. What did I do to deserve you, hm?”

He tried to slow down, tried to prolong the moment despite his hips driving forward with more and more power. Patrice licked and kissed the shell of his ear to egg him on. 

“Don’t hold back, Terrence. I’m all yours.”

A whimper escaped past his lips before a simple concession speech. “Oh…fuck.”

An unraveling. Muffling broken words against lips curled into a triumphant smile, Terry came undone with his eyes clamped shut to see colors dance behind closed lids. Her orgasm crashing in wasn’t enough for Patrice to break eye contact. She stared back the entire time, mouth opened and eyes transfixed in a devious stare under low eyelids. She didn’t want to miss a moment of his chest heaving, arms tensing, and hips bucking to deliver her the perfect body high she could get without drugs. Earth-shattering, thigh-quaking releases had their place, no doubt. They could never replace the sensation of falling more in love with every electric shockwave brought forth by the love of her life. 

Terry floated back into reality feeling lightheaded, stress-free, and searching for sweet kisses to cap off filthy deeds. 

“Baby, you’re a real pain in my ass, you know that?” he joked before pressing three quick pecks to Patrice’s lips. “Spoiled and gorgeous.”

She giggled along with him. “If that’s true, why haven’t I been able to get rid of you yet.”

“Because I like you like that. You think I do all this for you to be normal?” 

Light laughter and yet another round of theme song guitar synths rang out as they disconnected and found rest cuddled atop crumpled sheets. Patrice shifted to place her chest on top of Terry’s and traced her index finger along his beautiful cheekbones. 

“We’re playing with fire, TJ. I know you got the notification about this week being risky.”

“Don’t act like I was the one throwing a tantrum this morning.” 

“A tantrum is strong, okay! A tiny meltdown, maybe.” The sudden ring of her long-forgotten alarm cut their laughter short and drew attention to the nightstand. “Right on time.” Patrice stretched across Terry to handle the distraction, drawing his physical attention as he caressed and dropped kisses along her hip. She came back to him and kissed both of his lips separately. “Sorry for being a bitch. I’m working on it.”

“Ask for what you want next time. It’s yours. I’m yours,” He answered as he pushed a few stray braids over her shoulder.

“Use my words?” 

“Use your words.”

“I need more kisses. Or I'll melt. You wouldn't let me melt, right?”

Amorous feelings were back on the rise as they shared a slow, relaxed kiss unfit for two people on a tight schedule. 

Patrice pulled a way first to nuzzle her nose against Terry’s. “D’you wanna shower with me? It’s okay if you don’t. I just…need to spend a little more time together.”

She was bashful, almost refusing to look him in the face as if asking him to bathe together was somehow more revealing than what they’d just shared. 

“Not too hot on the water, alright?”

“Yes, sir.”

Terry chuckled as another kiss and loose instructions sent Patrice on her way with a giddy hop in her step. He listened to her make arrangements in the bathroom while he made the room more like somewhere to sleep and not ground zero of a natural disaster. 

He placed clothes in neat stacks, straightened items that took a tumble in the heat of the moment and piled dirty sheets in the middle of their bed. When all was complete, he took a seat to contact the front desk. 

“Hey, could we get some fresh sheets later today? Room 335.” Patrice calling for him from the shower made him smile against the receiver. “Sure, extra towels too. Yes ma’am. I appreciate it.” 

Thank God for housekeeping. In one hour the room would return to pristine condition for another romp or relaxation. A night of good food and better drinks would decide their fate for them.

-------

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @onherereading @hrlzy @becauseimswagman1 @thiccc-c @urfavblackbimbo @blackburnbook @ashanti-notthesinger @xo-goldengirl @ariiijestertheklown @blyffe @tvchi @wabi-sabi1090 @blackmoonchilee

[teapartyprincess4two]

Intrusive Thoughts- M. Sturniolo

pairing: bestfriend!reader x bestfriend!Matt

classification: SMUT SMUT NO FLUFF (well a little fluff bc filler parts)

warnings: 18+, MDNI, literal sex, masturbation, use of y/n, cursing, suggestive content, forced proximity, Nick and Chris can drive bc if not this wouldn’t work & I don’t want to make up extra characters, short

inspiration: request^^

summary: You’re forced to sit on Matt’s lap during a long roadtrip and once you arrive at your destination he lets his intrusive thoughts win.

Intrusive Thoughts PT.1, PT.2

—

“Stop moving,” Matt grumbles, his legs going numb from the constant applied pressure. You’re currently sitting on his lap, every other spot in the car completely overtaken with bags, blankets, pillows, and warm bodies. “Sorry, I can’t help it. I have to pee,” you reply in a hushed tone, feeling embarrassed for all your constant squirming. You’ve had to pee for the past two hours and you won’t reach the next gas station until 30 minutes.

Matt hates himself for enjoying this, despite his legs being completely numb, he can feel everything on his lap. The view is nice too, your tight leggings hugging your round ass perfectly. You squirm again, accidentally grinding down onto Matt hard enough for his dick to twitch. All he can do is hope you can’t feel it and pray he can think of anything other than you for the remainder of the trip.

“Nick, pull over I actually can’t hold it,” you say, standing up slightly to point to the side of the road. Your ass is on full display for Matt now, he just wants to reach out and grab it. Nick sends you an annoyed glare as he pulls off the highway and onto the access road.

A relieved sigh leaves your lips, your body plopping back down onto Matt’s lap aggressively as you rush to get out of the car. Matt groans at the contact, the force at which you sat on him sending him into a frenzy.

“Don’t look!” you exclaim, running deep into the forest that ligned the road to hide behind a tree. Nick is annoyed and tired from all the driving and Chris is fast asleep. Matt was too busy trying to hide his erection to even care.

Why did he agree to come on this road trip? Why didn’t he just offer to drive? Now he’s stuck in the backseat with you on his lap and there’s nothing he can do about it.

“Finally,” Nick groans in annoyance, watching as you run out from behind the trees and hop back into the car. You sit yourself on Matt’s lap again, this time much closer to his crotch and he swears he sees stars from this alone.

This was going to be a long, painful car ride.

—

You’re asleep, leaning into the bags and pillows that litter the middle seat, a blanket thrown over yours and Matt’s lap haphazardly. You stir slightly with each sharp turn or sudden bump, scooting back onto your make-shift pillow each time. The blanket serves as the perfect shield from wandering eyes and Matt uses it to his advantage, allowing his hands to hold you in place dangerously close to your inner thighs.

The car drives over a bumpy road causing you to bounce slightly on Matt’s lap, the pressure creating a sensation that he begins to welcome. Once the road smooths out again, you readjust yourself and wiggle your hips in an attempt to anchor yourself. Matt bites his lips and looks away, trying to fight the perverse thoughts that form in his mind.

All he can think about is you in your shared hotel room, clothes discarded and scattered on the floor. He imagines you laid out for him on the plush white comforter, ready to do any and everything he says. The bed would rock with each thrust causing the headboard to slam against the wall, informing all your neighbors that you belong to no one other than him.

His eyes are closed tightly, head leaned against the cold window as he tries coming back to reality. He exhales sharply, willing himself to stop thinking about you that way. You’re his best friend, and best friends weren’t supposed to imagine how the other would look naked. He wasn’t supposed to be fantasizing about your lips wrapped around him, or your legs pressed against your chest while his large hands held them in place.

“We’re here?” Chris croaks from the front seat, his voice still hoarse from his long nap. Nick hums in response, pulling up to the hotel parking lot.

Suddenly the car stops making Matt’s head bump against the glass slightly. You wake up from the sudden movement, stretching a little before turning towards Matt. You offer him an innocent smile, “Hi.”

He returns the smile, trying to pretend like he wasn’t just imagining you with his dick in your mouth. “Hi, sleep good?” he asks, still holding you securely in place by your thighs. He squeezes them briefly, before reluctantly dragging his hands away.

“Mhm,” you reply, your voice cracking a little from not talking for hours. He wants you making those noises from under him.

Chris opens the backseat car door before Matt can reply, causing you to jump off of his lap. You, Nick and Chris work towards getting all the bags out of the car while Matt tries to compose himself.

Finally, when he’s almost 100% his erection isn’t noticeable, he gets out of the car.

—

Matt knew he was sharing a room with you from the get-go, especially because he was the one who invited you on this trip in the first place, but the thought was still enough to excite him. It spiked his nerves, sending all his blood to his dick as he imagined all the possibilities.

“You can sleep, I’m gonna shower,” you say once you’re in the room, locking the door behind you. He fights the urge to follow after you, desperate for a little show. He’d have to save it for his dreams though, because despite being sexually frustrated, Matt was really tired and his legs were sore from the car ride.

“Okay.” He’s kicking his shoes off and undresses until he’s only in his boxers. Matt gets comfortable under the sheets, closing his eyes and trying to fall asleep before you get out of the shower. But it’s no use, his mind is racing with thoughts of you.

You in a bikini, you in a short skirt, you with a low cut top, you eating a popsicle, you kneeling down in front of him and letting him slap you in the face with his dick. So many dirty thoughts run through Matt’s head, all of them involving you in a compromising position.

His hand instinctively travels down under the waistband of his boxers, tugging until his cock is free. You were still in the shower, the steam coming out from under the door and the soft pitter patter of the water filled the room. Matt knew he had at least 15 minutes before you returned into the room ready for bed, plus the plush comforter served as an illusion, it was so big that you couldn’t even tell there was someone laying under it.

Slowly, he strokes himself, biting his lip to stop himself from making any noise. All of his fantasies play through his head, and like credits at the end of a movie, they're never ending. He picks up the pace, trying to finish before you’re done in the shower.

He hears the water turn off, mentally cursing himself for somehow not being able to finish. Just moments ago he was ready to bust at the idea of you and now the performance anxiety is inhibiting his climax. “Come on, come on,” he mutters, thrusting into his hand relentlessly, imagining that it was your hand instead of his. Finally he feels it, his climax builds and with one last pump he’s cumming into his hand. A quiet whimper comes from Matt, finally feeling satisfied.

The bathroom door opens, the light illuminating the rest of the room as you walk out in nothing but a cropped tank top and tight shorts. Your head is tilted to the side, your hands working a brush through your wet, tangled hair.

“Can you help?” you ask Matt, hoping he’ll help you get the knots out faster. He closes his eyes, pretending to be asleep to avoid the awkward situation under the sheets. His boxers are midway down his thighs, his soft dick laying on his stomach as remnants of his session linger on his hand.

You realize he’s asleep, or that he’s pretending, and huff in annoyance before returning back into the restroom to finish your night routine.

He didn’t know how he was going to survive the rest of the night.

—

Matt tosses and turns all night, unable to get comfortable no matter how hard he tries. You’re facing away from him because he’s sleeping on the side with the window and the sheer curtains do nothing to shield the obnoxious hallway light. Your soft snores fill the room, and even though Matt’s still physically tired, his mind is awake with thoughts of you.

After you got into bed, he hurried into the restroom and you wondered why. He stayed in there for a while, giving you enough time to think about a night with him and not an innocent one either. You fell asleep thinking about everything he’d do to you, all the positions he’d put you in.

“Y/n,” Matt whispers, nudging you gently. You’re out cold though, soft whimpers coming from you. At one point he swears he hears his name. “Y/n!” he whispers again, but much louder.

You finally stir, your head turning to face him as your eyes drowsily finding his face, adjusting to the dark. “What?” you croak, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You were having a good dream and the sooner you could return to it, the better. So, whatever Matt wanted better be good.

“I can’t sleep,” he whispers, pulling the comforter up higher against his neck. You groan in annoyance, turning away from him once again, “count sheep.” You close your eyes, preparing to enter another deep sleep full of dreams of Matt.

Matt snakes an arm over your waist, sneakily managing to go under your shirt. He’s only testing the waters though, not trying to take things too far too fast. “I did already,” he mumbles, tracing mindlessly shapes on your skin.

“Think of something boring,” you instruct.

How could he though when you’re right here, infecting his thoughts with perverse fantasies. “Can’t. Can only think of you,” he whispers, finally giving in to his intrusive thoughts as he presses a kiss onto your shoulder.

Whatever sleep you felt immediately leaves your body at the confession. Matt’s hand travels further up your shirt, holding one of your boobs. You groan at the sensation, instinctively scooting closer to him. Your ass presses against his crotch and immediately you feel his dick, it’s begging to be set free.

“I was dreaming of you,” you admit, one of your hands traveling behind you to massage Matt’s clothed penis. Your fingers manage to wrap around him despite the boxers being in the way, massaging him slowly. “Yeah? What was I doing?” he asks through strained moans, trying to see how far you two will go.

“Making me feel good.”

“Be specific, baby,” he grunts, bucking into your hand.

You proceed to describe your dream, all the dirty details only adding to Matt’s already active imagination. “First, you fucked me in the shower, lathering me up with soap and kissing all over my body. You fucked me against the glass and we left our handprints all over it,” you whisper, tightening your grip around his cock slightly. Matt’s breath hitches in his throat at the idea of you covered in sudsy bubbles.

“Then, you fucked me on the bathroom counter. You made me feel so good I screamed your name,” your voice is so seductive it has Matt whimpering. You move your hand from over his boxers and trail just above his waistband, allowing your fingers to linger there for a while before finally diving in.

“I sucked your dick on the balcony while you sat in the lounge chair. You came all over my face, all over my chest. All over, baby,” you pump his cock slowly, listening for his whimpers. His eyes are squeezed shut, he’s imagining every single scenario in full detail.

“Then I sat on it and bounced on it for hours. It felt so good,” you added. He squeezes your tit in his hand, pinching your nipple in the process and eliciting a small moan from you. “You sucked on my tits while I bounced on it, baby. You made me feel so good.”

Matt groans at the visual, he can’t take it anymore, if you keep going he’ll bust all over your hand without warning. “Stop,” he groans, pushing your hand off him before he can finish. If you two are going to do this, you’re going to do it right.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good,” he says, eagerly tugging your shorts off. You kick the shorts off, clenching around nothing at the thought of him inside you.

He lines himself up with your entrance, groaning at how warm and ready you are for him. Slowly, he pushes in, allowing himself to adjust to the new sensation. You feel so good clenching around him as you try and take as much of him as possible.

“Tell me more, princess,” he moans, his hips slowly beginning to rock back and forth at a rhythmic pace.

You’re struggling to remember the dream now, but you’re afraid that if you don’t speak Matt will stop. “I was on the edge of the bed, face down ass up for you and you were- fuck.” His hips snap into you, the angle hitting a sensitive spot inside of you.

“Keep going,” he instructs, using his hand to work circles on your clit.

With each thrust your brain becomes foggier and foggier, but you’re eager to please. “You were fucking me from behind and your balls slapped against my pussy,” you spilled out quickly, a loud moan following right after.

“Then?” Matt grunts, you clenched around him in desperation for more. “Ugh.. then we did it in the hot tub. You undid my bikini and I sat on it. I bounced on it, felt so good,” you’re babbling at this point, struggling to form coherent words.

“Bounced on what?” He’s fucking you so hard and fast right now you don’t understand how he can even think straight.

“On your big dick,” you whimper, feeling your climax approach quickly. Matt stops asking questions, instead focusing his attention on pushing you past your breaking point. He’s starting to see stars, his thrusts becoming sloppier and sloppier as he nears his orgasm.

“So fucking good,” he grunts, biting down on your shoulder as he cums inside of you, his hand still expertly drawing circles on your clit. The combination of stimulation is enough to make you cum, your body convulsing as you clench and cream around him.

You’re chanting his name, your thighs instinctively pushing together as the overstimulation becomes too much. He smiles at how fucked out he has you, removing his hand and finally slipping out of you.

The room goes silent, both of you so tangled in eachother that you can’t tell where one of you starts and where the other ends. He feels the drowsiness settle in his eyelids, they start to feel heavy and he fights it until he can’t anymore.

Shortly after him, you fall asleep too. Whatever consequences that were going to arise from tonight were tomorrow’s problem.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n:

🤫🤫

Shh they eepy.

- L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @sturniololovers

[ghostofhyuck]

NCT Dream when they accidentally kissed their best friend.

CW: smoking in Jaemin's part.

Mark Lee

It was a very intimate moment between you and your best friend Mark. You were learning how to play a guitar, struggling to find the right chords while Mark just watch you in awe. You were always oblivious with your best friend's feelings for you even though he's very very obvious about it. Mark's stare trailed down to your lips, an absurd feeling of wanting to taste it. And as if he lets his intrusive thoughts win, he leans onto you but straightly towards the cheek. The love-struck Mark was surprised with his actions --- both of you actually. He apologizes immediately, telling you that he has no excuse to his actions while you just sat there looking like a blushing mess.

Huang Renjun

You were bored when you suggested that you and Renjun do a peppero game for the last stick. Thinking that it's just nothing, Renjun agreed. The game starts and slowly, the stick becomes short. You're getting closer to Renjun and as he bites, he can feel your lips brushed to his, making him lean back --- falling from the sofa that you two were sitting. You were surprised by the event but as soon as Renjun stands up, he apologizes quickly for kissing you! You assured him that it's nothing at all, but somehow was flustered by the thought that you two kissed. 

Lee Jeno

You and Jeno were late. So both of you are in a rush, running towards the bus station. Jeno reaches the bus station first, trying to catch his breathe when unknowingly you collided with him. He managed to catch you in his arms before you two fall on the ground. You immediately stood up, realizing that it was your fault that you tripped because your shoelaces are untied. You began apologizing, checking your dazed best friend if he had any scratches with him. But Jeno could only remember the cherry taste of your lips, wondering why you didn't noticed that you two kissed. He wonders whether he'll bring it up to you or not. 

Lee Donghyuck

You and Haechan were close. Way too close. But you two are in the club and the proximity is bound to be close. You're facing him, dancing like there's no tomorrow when someone bumped onto you, making you stumble upon your best friend. You both laugh as you stare at Haechan, and then the next thing you knew, his lips crashed onto yours. You remember how vivid the kiss was that when you brought it up to Haechan, he was clueless, too drunk to remember about it. Seeing how disappointed your expression was, your bestfriend tried his best to recall the events, especially when you two kissed. 

Na Jaemin

You and Jaemin are sitting outside the club. The dirty pavement of the street were comfortable enough for you and his drunk self, both giggling idiots trying to sober up by smoking. You leaned against him, letting the cold air freshen you up when you felt Jaemin's arms wrapping around you. The next thing you knew, his lips landed on the top of your head before leaning against it too. You broke out from his hold, seeing that both of you had a surprise on the look on their face. Jaemin began apologizing for kissing you if it bothered you and told you that he did because the moment was too intimate for him. That's when you knew that you have a lot to clarify with Jaemin once both of you are sober. 

Zhong Chenle

Chenle was yapping with something about basketball while you were just sitting there, nodding as he continues to talk. You were scrolling through your phone when you saw a funny meme that you know Chenle will laugh, so you turned your head towards him --- at the same time Chenle leans. His lips directly went to yours and to your surprise, you scrambled out of the sofa while Chenle laughs at the incident. You were blushing red due to embarrassment while Chenle's red from laughing too much, but as soon as he calms down, your best friend apologizes for the kiss even though both of you knew that it was an accident. 

Park Jisung

Jisung was staying over your place that he woke up late. So he was rushing over packing his things and putting on some clothes. It made you panic too that's why you helped him pack some of his things. And when all things are perfect, Jisung bids you goodbye but you were caught off-guard when his lips crashed onto yours. You are used to the kiss on the cheeks since it's a platonic thing for both of you. Before you could say anything, Jisung already left. You stood there frozen, but what you didn't know that the moment Jisung was just outside, he realized what he just did. He doesn't know what to do, whether to go back or catch his class. In the end, he knocks once more, telling you that he's sorry and then dashes away. 

[tasteracha]

the storm.

a/n: happy (early) birthday to my shining star xian @forlix i love you so much i ache with it. i love this universe you've created and i love your characters and your beautiful, beautiful mc that i'm so happy you've let me play with.

warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, teasing, pretty tame for me tbh! many big emotions. wc 2.7k. hurt/comfort sex between two people who love each other.

pairing: hwang hyunjin x afab!reader, she/her!reader, based off of xian's lovely crying lightning (you can read this as a stand alone but why would you? xian's fic is phenomenal. please read it.)

as beautiful and wonderful and kind and patient hyunjin is, it’s hard to forget sometimes that his general presence is still exceptionally infuriating sometimes. the days of your loneliness, before the two of you had finally come together into one woven cord instead of two strings dancing alongside one another, were all but a distant memory. overriding that was the smell of his skin in the morning, the glint in his eye when he catches yours across the cameras and fans, the warm weight of his hand steady on the small of your back, protective and possessive. all you knew now was the cracking of lightning across a stormy sky, raindrops hitting your face in a welcome intrusion to your mundane day to day. 

the all expanse of the storm did its job well of making you forget that sometimes the raindrops were irritating, too. 

they came in the form of him opening one eye slowly as you tried to swipe shadow across his lid, upsetting your plan and making you double back once you’ve scolded him; the air moving around you as he walks away from you after teasing you one too many times; the sound of his laugh when he’s behind the camera of someone, making eyes at the lens that should have been reserved for you only. each one was a piercing cold drop of water to your face, piercing as they fall and sliding down to form a puddle at your feet. 

it didn’t escape your notice that you weren’t upset at him, really; it wasn’t his fault that you were spiteful. even thinking the word makes you shiver in disgust - this isn’t you. you had never been one to let your feelings affect your actions, you selfishly prided yourself in your ability to compartmentalize, but he had this hold on you that made you experience things you never thought were possible. 

he, of course, finds the entire show encompassingly amusing. you could see the mirth in his eyes from across the room when he meets yours, recognize your own expression in them like a mirror and it made your scowl deepen in it’s permanence. you almost wish for the time when he didn’t know of your affection for him; the surety in his step when he makes you frown is maddening, overshadowed by the smugness he holds in knowing he could make you smile with greater ease. let it be known that you didn’t lack in confidence - your spine is stood high, head held with authority and feet planted firmly on the floor. envy wasn’t something that ever crawled up your legs like ivy over an ancient grecian statue. jealousy, even, seemed too harsh a sentence for your current charge. to put it simply, you were annoyed. 

he knows this, of course. he knows you, inside and out, and on your best days it’s a rare gift that you treasure, hidden away in the deepest corners of the closet that is your heart. on your worst days it’s utterly terrifying, the feeling of being laid out to shrivel in the sun with no chance of respite. and wasn’t it ironic that the one thing that made you feel this way was the one that cured you too?

it’s with an embarrassing amount of pleasure that you remind yourself that you are the one he goes home with, at the end of the day. you’re cleaning up your station and you hear his laugh in the background, not directed at you but ringing like sweet bells nonetheless. every brush that returns home into your kit, every lip product that gets swiped into a bag, every charcoal pencil is the ticking of time that needs to pass before he is yours again. simply yours, not belonging to the cameras or the managers or the staff whose stare linger on him for longer than they should be allowed to. 

you knew where your talents were - in your art, your ability to read people, your creativity and your drive for perfection. these uncharted waters were not in your skillset, but as hyunjin stalks across the room to reunite with you after what seemed like hours, you took a moment to be grateful that it seemed to be in his. putting yourself in someone else’s hands, feeling the level of trust that you had for him, sent a tingle up your spine, but if anyone was going to take care of you it was him; the thought soothes you like a balm, not enough to be permanent but enough to get you by for now.

“missed me that much?” he crowds into your space to press a light kiss to your hairline, expertly moving his body so that no one could see. “i’ve only been shooting for an hour.”

“keep talking and you’ll get shot,” you mutter, ignoring the heat that rises up to your cheeks as you turn from him to gather your things, aching to be home and in his arms and away from prying stares. his heat is still pressed up against your back, standing as close as he could while still letting you move freely. as much as you want to drag him into some secluded hallway and refamiliarise yourself with the taste of his skin, you had to pull out your endless supply of restraint. getting caught with your hand down his pants in a building that you frequented often was not an outcome that you wished to experience, at least not today. 

his hand is warm on the small of your back as he walks you out a series of doors and stairs to the parking garage, the sound of your shoes bouncing off of the walls a bit jarring. 

“you looked nice today,” you tell him, honest, as he slides into the passenger seat of your car. the worn seats smell like his cologne and his old bracelet hangs from the rearview mirror - god, even your car was reminding you of how much of your life he encompassed - not that you were complaining about that. 

“that was all you,” pride drips from his voice and you catch his soft gaze when you turn to look behind you so you could back out of your parking spot. 

“i may have helped, but it’s still your face,” you counter, hand busy on the gear shift, as eager as your heart was to finally get home. 

“if i didn’t know you, i would have thought you were obsessed with me,” he says, the biting tease dripping off his tongue like citrus. “with the way you were staring at me, back there.”

“i’ll make you walk home,” you tighten your grip on the steering wheel despite the threat being empty. he knows which threads to tug on without unraveling you, playing you with his words like it was muscle memory. 

“you’d make me walk?” he gasps theatrically, pressing his palm to his chest and fluttering his eyes at you. “what if i get kidnapped, or mugged? how would you live with yourself?”

“you’re an idiot,” you deadpan, cursing the betraying fondness that rises up in you. 

“your idiot,” he grins stupidly, settling his hand on your thigh as he watches the streetlights shine across your face as you drive. his touch is scalding, long fingers pressing into your very nerves and leaving them flayed out. 

“yeah, remember that,” you retort, and you hope he thinks you mean the idiot part. 

the remainder of the short drive home was spent in comfortable silence, hyunjin tapping away on his phone with his free hand as you speeded down the freeway. when you park you let out a sigh and your keys jangle in melancholy along with you when you take them out of the ignition. hyunjin presses his fingers into your thigh in a final squeeze before he exits the car, long legs carrying him over to your door before you could blink to open it for you. 

walking up the stairs to your third story apartment never felt more relaxing, the breath they stole from you a necessary tax to pay to enter the comfort of your own walls. 

you pull him to the bedroom as soon as you walk through the front door, dropping your things in the foyer with as much care as you could muster. 

it takes you a couple of seconds to push him to sit up against the headboard, a couple more for him to complain about it, and less than that for you to climb into his lap and press a searing kiss to his lips. 

he opens himself to you, open mouth curved into a smile as you lick into it. you taste the coffee you had made for him this morning, the croissant he had eaten during a break, the gloss that you had carefully dabbed across his plush lips. 

you want him, no one else could have him. how could you feel this much possessiveness over someone you already hold as yours?

his hands circle your waist and his thumbs press into your skin, holding you against him even as you pull away from him. his lips are left glistening red and he looks up at you with a kind of reverence that you don’t think you’ll ever get used to. 

“slow, angel,” he moves his thumbs in slow circles. “i’m not going anywhere.” 

“hyune,” you gasp, going lax against him. you’re far too drained to pretend that your entire body didn’t ache for him. “need you.”

“i know,” he shushes you, trailing his fingers up and down your spine. he loves to tease but he’d never do so at your expense; he must sense that your emotional turmoil is bubbling into the direction of a vortex. “you have me. take what you need, baby.”

the reminder that he was yours, though wholly unneeded, sounds so sweet to your ears. your fingers slide up his chest, twisting into the button at his collar and popping it open with practiced ease. you peel the panels of material off of him to expose his sun-kissed skin, abdominal muscles tensing with how he’s holding back from jerking up into your lap. 

“what does my baby want, hmm?” he says, voice catching when your hands slide over his chest and brush over his nipples. he groans when you roll one between your fingers and the sound of it makes your heart soar.

“i want you to shut up and take your pants off,” you back off of him to rid yourself of your own clothes, folding them into a neat little pile at the foot of the bed. he shows no such care for his own, kicking off his pants and boxers throwing them along with his shirt across the room. his hungry eyes stay on you the whole time, shining with excitement as if it was the first time he was witnessing you undress.

you climb back over him as fast as humanly possible, the feeling of his bare skin against yours like an eternal gift. you grind down against him, his rapidly hardening cock sliding between your folds and his head catching against your clit. you’re wet, of course you are; you have been since his hand was on your thigh on the car ride home you moan and duck your head, a little embarrassed by how affected you are by such a simple motion.

he braces himself on his elbow as other hand moves to your hairline, brushing a few strands back behind your ear on it’s path towards cupping the back of your neck. he moves closer, lips so close to yours that you can almost taste them again, but before they meet you’re feeling the earth’s weight shift and your own balance break. 

“i want to take care of you,” he explains when you look up at him in a daze, dizzy from how quickly he had flipped you underneath him. “let me?”

“i thought i told you to shut up,” you were breathless but the permission still rang true under your words. you’d let him do whatever he wanted, how could you deny such a sweet request?

he grins something wicked as one of his hands slides down your chest towards your lower belly. his fingers part your folds easily and you feel so exposed even though he wasn’t looking. he decidedly keeps his mouth shut even as whines begin to spill from your lips, your eyes fluttering closed as a familiar burning sensation starts to take over your body. 

he alternates between rubbing gentle circles into your clit and teasing his fingers at your entrance, so close to dipping inside but not quite. he ducks his head to mouth at your neck, sucking a constellation of marks into your skin until you’re panting into his hair and shaking apart in your orgasm. 

he gives you a moment to recover, waiting patiently until you open your eyes to see his fond smile aimed at you. 

“what’s that look for?” the snark is completely absent in your voice post-orgasm, and it almost comes out dreamy. 

“i can’t even look at you now?” he breaks his unspoken vow of silence to ask. “i can’t help myself. i have the most gorgeous person walking this earth underneath me, looking at you is the tamest thing i can do to you.”

the blood returns to your cheeks as you take in his words. you don’t respond because you didn’t know how; what could you even say to that? he doesn’t seem to mind as he moves impossibly closer to you, leaning a bit of his weight against you. it’s not too much, just enough that you could feel his chest moving with his breaths. he lines his cock up to your entrance, his hips flush against yours as he slowly pushes in. 

you let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding when he enters you fully, every inch settling your frustration as it flows out of you along with the air in your lungs. this feeling was worth all of it, the early mornings and the onlookers and the sharing of him when all you wanted to do was lock him away for you and you alone.

he loves you. he was so in love with you that it poured out of his very being, in his gentle touch and the slide of his lips against yours and the slide of his cock against your walls. each drag of his hips sends burning pleasure up your spine, licking flames against your vertebrae until you can’t move. 

you’re so drunk on him that you lose track of time, all of your senses falling away until hyunjin is the only thing you can feel, see, touch. you lose your words, unintelligible syllables trying to shape his name falling from your lips, pressed against the skin of his neck and floating to his ears in a sweet symphony. 

it isn’t long before you’re falling apart underneath him, electricity crackling between you as fucks you through your orgasm. he gathers you in his arms as he tumbles over the edge after you, folding himself over you so he can kiss you, and you don’t realize that you were crying until his cheeks come back glistening with salty water. 

“god, i love you,” and to this day it still feels like a heavy declaration, the words never diminishing their weight despite the number of times they’ve fallen off of his tongue. “you are everything to me.”

“hyunjin,” is all you can say, but you know he reads between the curved letters of his name. i love you too, you mean the world to me, what would i be without you. 

he cares for you like the cracked piece of porcelain that you are, light fingertips tracing along the tear tracks on your cheeks that move to turn you on your side so you could smush yourself into his chest. your hand rests right above his heart, and if you looked close enough you could see the static sparks of electricity that connect the two of you together. 

[collarful-clover]

Reference sheet for our protags in the fic !! Now with Luka added

Source fic || beginning

[bananayuyu]

all tied up {part 1}

Pairing: Yunho x f reader

Genre: angst, eventual smut

Word count: 10.5k

Summary: You never thought you'd have such an awful rivalry with a coworker. How is he so mean, so petty, so under your skin...?

Warnings: smut, MDNI, mentions of reader wanting to die and past traumas, dub con/non con, reader is physically bound against her will, mean yunho, nipple play, fingering, unprotected penetration, after care of sorts (all the smut happens in part 2)

A/n: Well I had the goal of making this maybe 2k words initially, and now it's 22.4k so I decided to split it into two parts (please read the warnings and don't read this if you aren't in the right headspace <3)

Read part 2 here

Read it on ao3

"Morning."

Your coworker's tone is cold as ice, as if he swallowed the winter air on his way to the building and was now spitting it at you. 

"Hi," you grunt, not bothering to look up from your desk. 

It was a biting, harsh morning, and the headache you were nursing wasn't doing any favors to your mood. Only minutes into your work day you already felt bleary, your legs still shivering from the short walk between the subway station and the twenty-story building your office rested in. In the mornings you woke it from its slumber; the lights in the lobby blinking on, even the heater rumbling awake as you walked through the door, as if it took a break from its job all night, too. It certainly felt that frosty in here, especially at 7am sharp, when you stumbled in before everyone else. You preferred this early shift and were thankful to be walking out the door so early each day, early enough that even in the dead of winter the sun hadn't yet set. The early mornings never bothered you; the solitude was tender and warm with you, even if the air was cruel on these freezing winter mornings. 

The intrusion of your steely coworker was unwelcome, to say the least.

"Why are you here so early?" you ask, a sharp edge to your tone. You're bitter that you won't have your usual hour to yourself, especially given the meeting you are set to have with your boss in just a few hours. You'd needed this time to mentally prepare, and here he was ruining your plans, yet again.

"I figured I'd come in early to get work done before our little meeting with the boss," he replies, a slow sigh leaving his lips and betraying just how tense he is. Well, at least it wasn't just you. You had been dreading this morning since last Friday, when the two of you had your worst argument yet, prompting your boss to demand a meeting with you both. You had no idea what would happen; you'd never had your boss demand a scheduled meeting with you in the six years you'd worked here. Things were different now, now that you worked as a grant writer and not at the front desk, but still it was concerning. He always just met with people spontaneously, and the scheduled bi-weekly meetings for the entire administrative staff were the time where conflicts and confusion were dealt with. He'd never called just two people into his office like this; then again, no one at your company had ever butted heads like you two, so badly that it left the whole office simmering with frustration, everyone dreading the sour expression that permanently settled on your features by the end of each day. You were so different now, so changed from the calm and happy woman they all knew.

You stood to make your way to the kitchen, passing by his desk as you went to turn on the kettle, boiling water for your first tea of the day. This morning called for multiple cups, your throat scratchy and dry from nerves, your body depleted from your lack of sleep. You'd stayed up far too late with your best friend last night, rambling about the meeting, begging her to help you come up with an excuse to stay home. She'd laughed with you, throwing out a few random ideas, but she knew as well as you did that you'd be here today. As much as you dreaded it, you would only miss this meeting if you were on your literal death bed, your job meaning too much to you to lose it.

From this angle he had a perfect view of you, your face scrunched up in concentration as you set the kettle to temperature, placing other employee's dirty dishes from the sink into the dishwasher. You were too obsessed with organization, in a way that made him irrationally angry, but he couldn't stop watching you every day, watching the way you adhered so severely to your little routines, watching the way his interruptions cast your face in worry and made you snap at him. Today, like every Monday, you wore your favorite shoes, the black platform Mary Janes. Up your legs stretched your thigh-high wool socks, also black, held up by a ruffled stretch of gray lace at the top. Over your hips lay a gray tartan skirt, reaching almost down to your socks, leaving an inch of bare thigh exposed in a way he thought wasn't really work appropriate. And then there was your black turtleneck, tight and accentuating your obviously braless chest, the curves and shapes of your body not hidden in the slightest. He was watching you intently, waiting for you to finally notice, and boy was he not disappointed when you finally did.

"You've hid my mug, haven't you," you spit, slamming the dishwasher harder than you needed to. You hadn't seen it in the cabinet, so you'd gingerly searched through the dishwasher too, desperately hoping someone else hadn't used it the previous week and neglected to wash it. Not finding it in there was a relief in some ways, but immediately you knew who was at fault for its disappearance, and his dark chuckle in response to you confirmed your suspicions ten fold. "You're such a dick," you grumble under your breath, reaching for any other random mug in the cabinet, needing something to house the tea you desperately need.

"What was that?" he asks, his tone mocking you, knowing exactly the sentiment of what you'd said even if he hadn't heard you clearly. You sigh and roll your eyes, ripping open your tea bag and plopping it in the mug, gently pouring the steaming liquid over it. "You just love to blame me for everything, don't you, even if you have no proof." His voice is low, dark, and it makes a shiver run through you even as the steam of the water warms your face. "You're cruel y/n, so cruel." His tone of voice makes you feel trapped, even all these feet away, and you just freeze for a bit, your tea steeping a bit longer than it should have. A creak of the building snaps you out of it, and you fling the tea bag into the trash, gently blowing over the mug and taking a tiny sip, testing the temperature.

Finally you turn, catching a glimpse of him. Jeong Yunho, the newest addition to your little office, hired about six months ago now, you realized. The date hit you in the gut this morning; the year had flown by, especially the last half, and in days it would no longer be this year anymore, no longer be the ending of an adventure but rather the start, when you'd have to plan again, think again. His suit today is stone gray, the color only barely darker than his wool overcoat, his tie a dark navy that really just looked black. His shoes were dark navy too; which you only knew because of the difference in the toe box from his other black shoes, the ones he normally wore. It must be a special day, he must be heading to something important after work. Some sort of meeting? No, that wouldn't really make sense, you all didn't work in a field where meetings were held outside of work hours, in restaurants or bars. Unless the meeting was about getting out of here, finding another placement. Maybe a date? Who'd want to date such an asshole, though?

He was rich and good-looking. Even you could recognize that. And boy did it irk you, that he looked so good in his suits, that he wasn't too masculine or too feminine, that his nose sloped in just the perfect way, that his smile was soft and bright and so endearing. You hadn't met many people in your life who were so captivating at first glance, and sure, when he'd first started here a part of you hoped something might happen between the two of you. You'd eat lunch at each other's desks, excitedly discussing your newest grants or talking about your favorite shows, which of course, were the same. It was a blissful few weeks, a beautiful honeymoon of sorts. Of course it couldn't last forever; you landed your dream job, everything you'd been working towards finally coming true last year, a new perfect apartment with your best friend being the cherry on top. Of course this year a man appeared and tried to ruin everything.

The two of you work in silence until 7:45, when everyone else starts arriving for the day, led of course by Dr. Acharya, the supervising psychotherapist. Next is Tally, who gives you a short wave as she heads to reception, her horn-rimmed glasses peeking over the window to blow you a kiss when she finds the mug of tea you'd made waiting for her. Soon many others scramble in together; Marnie, Amir, Rua, and Keisha, each making their way to their individual offices to ready themselves for their first clients. Soon Jongho, in charge of billing and accounting, walks in too, sitting down at his desk next to Yunho. And finally Eliana stumbles in just before eight, her giant coffee in hand, her eyes slightly dark with panic like they always are as she rushes into her office. Your boss, Mr. Kangsoo, won't be in for another hour at least and the day lurches forward as the first clients of the day are brought back for their counseling sessions, the office breaking into a low hum that will stay with you until you leave.

Your digitizing task today is boring but necessary, and that headache isn't leaving you, even with the tea warming your throat and your favorite piano concerto comforting you through the morning. You always loved Rachmaninov in the winter. But even so, your mood was sour, too sour. Yunho and Jongho's comfortable chatter was making your blood boil, making it hard for you to focus on your stupid, tedious task. In a huff you stand, heading straight for the reception office, papers in hand.

"Hi hi," Tally greets you as you open her door, gently closing it behind you.

"Dude, I'm dreading this meeting," you say immediately, sighing.

"Why? I'm sure nothing bad will come of it, Mr. Kangsoo loves you," she says, canceling an appointment on her screen and typing out a note.

"I know, I'm just already pissy today, not exactly the best mood to be bringing to the boss's office," you chuckle, setting your papers on the corner of her desk. "I kept neglecting digitizing this pile and now I can't stop obsessing over it. And Yunho came in early today, and hid my fucking mug. Again."

"Did you see this?" she asks, grabbing a sticky note from the corner of her computer and holding it out to you.

Can you please let the pretty one know she's never driving me from this job, no matter how hard she tries?

"God he's such an ass," you whisper, making Tally giggle. "Thank god for you girl, I don't know what I'd do without you here."

"You're 100% sure it's Yunho?" she asks, eyeing you.

"Who else would it be?" you reply, rolling your eyes, making her laugh again. 

"Well, I guess now 'the pretty one' has been told," she giggles, rolling her eyes too as she crumples up the note and tosses it in the trash.

"Like I said, he's an ass," you reply, not as quietly this time. A parent obviously waiting for their child snaps their head up, looking in your direction. They're maybe twenty feet away, and the window between the lobby and the reception desk is small, so you doubt they really heard you. But you balk in embarrassment anyway, silencing yourself.

"I should get back to my desk, I guess," you say, sighing as you pick up your stack of papers once again.

"Just ignore him," Tally says, smiling kindly.

"I'll try," you sigh, earning a disapproving look from Tally. "I will, I promise. You're right, I know, I should just ignore him," you answer, looking over to see the back of his head, his large hands crossed over each other and resting there on his jet black hair.  Fuck him, you can't help but think. Everything had been going so well, and you'd never been someone who got into drama at work, ever. It was a point of pride for you for a long time, a huge reason why your boss gave you the position he did and trusted you to be a part of his team. Now it had all been ruined, by this fucking asshole, in his perfectly tailored suits.

The day dragged on, your mind spinning with anxiety. It wouldn't leave you until that dreaded meeting, you knew that, so you busied yourself with scanning and organizing the files, not bothering to try to get any writing done. There was no way you would, not in this state.

Finally your boss arrived, his heavy footsteps sending waves of dread through you, your stomach a fluttering mess. You hadn't been able to eat this morning, which was very unlike you; you could feel how weak you were from the lack of sustenance, the adrenaline making you shakier than it normally did. You stumbled on wobbly legs towards his office once he called for you, Yunho's presence dark and foreboding behind you, and you swore you heard him whisper 'behave yourself' as the two of you passed into the office. Your blood was boiling as you sat down, the two chairs facing the front of your boss's desk, your face a permanent scowl as you stared Yunho down, watching him settle himself down in the chair and spread his legs farther than he needed to, looking all too comfortable.

"Ok, to start, this is not to scare you, or fire you," your boss begins, already zeroing in on the dynamic between you; the cool and collected look of Yunho, and the angry, stricken look of you, your eyes deep with worry when you meet your boss's gaze. "You both know me, I don't really do this sort of thing. I don't need to control you all, to be a good leader." He sighs deeply, looking almost as pained as you do, like he's mulled this over for too long himself. "I just can't let this go on any longer. The conflict between you two is affecting everyone, and it's clearly affecting your own work, too. I can see it in the quality of your writing. You are both very smart, very good grant writers, and even so you've been doing a good job, but I know you both can do better. And this fighting, it really needs to stop." He sighs deeply again, shaking his head subtly, like his subconscious is trying to rid itself of the stress you two have caused him. It makes so many feelings bloom in your guts, but the overwhelming one is guilt, the feeling so entirely consuming that you have the urge to jump to the floor now and start babbling out apologies. But you stop yourself, stop the tears from coming, and taking a deep breath you regain some composure. You know your boss, and you know his cadence, so you know he has more to say.

"So, we're figuring this out today. I don't care what it takes, we're settling this. So tell me, why do you two fight so much?" His eyes sweep back and forth, eyeing each of you for any sign, any subtle movement that could give him some idea of what was going on. He had his own theories, but he really couldn't be sure, and due to his laid back nature with his staff, he hadn't been monitoring you two enough to really know. With a sigh he leans back in his chair, letting the silence hang in the room until one of you is willing to break it.

"Sir, I don't think she's liked me from the moment I started here," Yunho finally speaks up, leaning forward in his chair and setting his elbows on his knees, the casual and confident gesture making your skin crawl. "I think she's been trying to make me miserable, so I'll leave-"

"That is not tru-"

"I think she feels some sort of ownership here, cause she's worked here so much longer than m-"

"That is absolutely not true!" you cry, your shot nerves leaving you unable to control your volume. "I would never try to run someone out of the office that way, that's completely unprofessional! He's the one who started all of this, he's the one who leaves nasty notes for me and hides my things and puts me down constantly in every admin meeting, trying to make me look like an idiot in front of everyone! If we're really gonna go there, I think he feels intimidated by my experience here, by the fact that I have a clearly established relationship with everyone, that you and all the therapists like me, and that even though he has more experience than me I'm still writing better grants!"

"Y/n, please keep yo-" your boss starts.

"I'm sorry, sir, but he left a note for me on Tally's computer this morning! How unprofessional is that! Now he's dragging her into our drama too, which I promise you I've never done! I-"

"Oh sure, you've never complained about me to anyone in the office," Yunho juts in, rolling his eyes. "It's not like everyone here sides with you on everything, always. If it weren't for Jongho I think you would have made everyone in this office hate me by now."

"Everyone loves you here, what do you mean?" you shoot back, your eyebrows furrowed in frustration. "I never talk about you to any of them, not even Tally. Because I know it would be wrong. Maybe everyone sides with me on certain issues because I'm right, have you ever considered that?! And by the way, Tally thinks poorly of you because of her own observations, because she doesn't like the things you say to me. So that has everything to do with you and your shitty behavior-" you cut yourself off, slapping a hand over your mouth. Because as comfortable as you are with your boss, you never, ever curse in front of him. It's an unspoken rule in the office, and one you'd never struggled to follow before. Shame washes over you like a wave of boiling water, making your whole body begin to shake.

"I'm so sorry, sir," you bow your head to him, your eyes closed as you fight to keep yourself from bursting into tears.

"She's obviously quite emotionally unstable, sir," Yunho pipes up from beside you, and of all the things he's said recently it's definitely the most hurtful. Your head shoots up, a single tear racing down your cheek despite your attempts to keep it at bay, and you just stare at him, your face betraying everything you're feeling.

"There's no need for that sort of insult right now, Yunho," your boss scolds him. "I need you two to resolve this, not fight even more. So tell me about this note, what did it say? Why did you leave a note for y/n on Tally's desk?"

"I'm sorry sir, I understand," Yunho responds, his perfectly respectful tone and gestures looking so put on. "And honestly sir, I have no idea what y/n is talking about. I didn't leave any notes for anyone this morning."

"Oh, so you're going to lie right to our boss's face?" you ask him, your volume lower but your anger still evident. "Do I need to go grab Tally? Seriously?"

"Did this note have my name on it anywhere?" he chuckles, fixing you with a strong gaze. And if you aren't mistaken, there's some sort of twinkle in his eye, almost like he's enjoying this. Is it seeing you suffer, seeing the anger and sadness in your eyes that makes him feel joy? Or maybe it's just messing with you in front of your boss, forcing you to over-explain yourself to the point of looking hysterical. Whatever it is it makes you uneasy, your stomach feeling like it might fall out of your ass at any moment.

"Sir, it said, 'Can you please let the pretty one know she's never driving me from this job, no matter how hard she tries?" you say, exasperated. "He just said he thinks I've been trying to drive him out. It was obviously him who left that note." You turn your body to face your boss again, not wanting to catch even a glimpse of Yunho anymore, your eyes pleading with Mr. Kangsoo to believe you.

"Sir, I did not write that. I would never say something so inappropriate about a coworker," Yunho adds, and though you don't see it, he's staring right at you. Your boss sighs heavily, your eyes fixed to the way he's staring at Yunho, the lines in his forehead deep with frustration. He looks like he's about to start speaking but then stops himself, another deep breath moving through his lungs, before running his hands through his hair and leaning back in his chair again.

"God, I wish you two would just sleep with each other already and get it out of your systems," he groans under his breath, but you hear it loud and clear, your whole body on high alert.

"What?!" you snap, your response involuntary. You had respected this man for years, admired the way he ran this office with calm confidence and respect for everyone, and you couldn't believe something so inappropriate had just come out of his mouth.

"Y/n, I'm sorry, I don't mean to be gross. I just can't help but wonder if part of the issue between the two of you is, well, the obvious attraction," Mr. Kangsoo responds, sighing deeply. "I do sincerely apologize if I'm reading things incorrectly, or if that last comment made you uncomfortable. I don't in any way want to encourage my employees to sleep with each other, obviously, and that just slipped out of my mouth. It was inappropriate, I know. I just feel like I'm at my wit's end with you two, and I feel desperate to find some sort of solution. Because you both are incredible employees and I don't want to have to get rid of either of you."

"I'm so sorry sir, that this whole situation with us two has caused you stress, but I can assure you there's no attraction here. Only dislike," you reply, letting out a shaky breath.

"No attraction at all, sir," Yunho adds, making you feel disgusted at actually agreeing with him for once.

"Then why the constant arguing?" your boss asks.

"Like I said sir, he's been tormenting me-"

"She clearly has something against me sir, and I don't know what I could do to change tha-"

"You don't know what you could do?? Maybe stop being so mean to me!" you cry out again.

"Y/n, keep your voice down, this is my last warning," your boss cuts in, his face stern. "You know I see you as almost a daughter to me, you started working here when you were what, 17? And now you've finished your degree, made so many strides in the last few years. I'm proud of you and everything you've accomplished, but I'm struggling to feel proud right now, with how you've been acting recently in the office. It isn't like you. I know Yunho is at fault for this too, and I want you to know I've already talked to him about his comments made during our admin meetings. What he said a few weeks ago, insinuating that you didn't understand the "actual point" of your role in this company because you have less experience than him, was uncalled for. So was his comment earlier. But I see too that you are quick to jump on everything he says, to assume that everything he does has ill intent towards you, and I don't think that that's fair either. I know you're more mature than this," he finishes, his eyes soft as he looks at you.

"I don't think I am, sir," you squeak out, your voice breaking as more tears well in your eyes.

"Y/n, I won't have this. I need you to approach this like you've approached everything else in your life, with the goal of actually understanding it. Don't give up on this now," he says, his voice stern but encouraging in that special way only he can be.

"Sir, how am I supposed to feel watching you accept her hysterics?" Yunho asks, his face tense with annoyance.

"God, you're cruel," you whisper, curling into a ball on your chair, not caring that you're wearing a short skirt and you probably shouldn't be holding your legs this way.

"Yunho, you're getting on my last fucking nerve today," your boss snaps, and both of you have wide eyes of shock, Mr. Kangsoo not one to curse in the office, either. "This entire conversation went worse than I expected, and your uncalled for comments show me that maybe you're not as mature as I originally thought you were. You came in with great references, son, and you clearly are very smart, but you must realize you're up against someone who's been working for me for six years, and who has proven time and time again to be basically the perfect employee. This conflict is a blip on the radar for her, but for you it's been happening almost the entire time I've known you. I want to believe the best in you, but you must understand how this looks from my perspective."

You both just sit frozen, like two kids in time-out, your faces different versions of disappointment. Your eyes are slightly red from crying, and your knees are still pulled up to your chin, your arms squeezing so tightly around them that it hurts.

"I've had it with this conversation, I don't think this is going to work. Which I should have known, it's clear that conversation between the two of you always leads to conflict," your boss continues. "I'm sending you both home, right now, and I'm demanding that you figure out this thing between you, or I'm firing you both. You have a week. Do not return to this office until the two of you have sorted out your issues, and can promise me you will not fight ever again going forward," he states, his arms crossed over his chest.

You both gawk at him, your faces looking almost identical, as you try to take in what he's just told you.

"Sir, I-" Yunho starts, but even he's stumbling over his words with just how shocked he is. "I don't think this is fair, sir. You should- you can't force us to make up, that isn't going to happen. This- we- we'll both be fired by next week," he stumbles out, his collected demeanor finally shattering.

"With all due respect, son, this is my company. I can do what I want. And this is what I feel is best. So both of you go, now, I won't hear another word. Out," he demands, standing and nodding towards his door.

You rise without a word, your body shaking dramatically from the heaps of adrenaline still coursing through you. Silently you grab your coat and scarf, packing up your bag and slinging it over your shoulder, walking to the kitchen to grab your lunch out of the fridge. You make your way towards the front door, stopping briefly at reception to look at Tally, her curly hair hanging down as she furiously types away at a document. Finally she looks up and sees your face, her own twisting into concern and confusion.

"What happened?" she whispers.

"I- I don't know," you respond, shaking your head. "Ask boss about it, I'm sure he'll tell you," you sigh, wiping another tear from your eyes. "I can't stay, I have to go," you squeak, giving her a quick hug, before turning and walking towards the front door again, nearly bumping into Yunho. You don't give him the courtesy of an apology, instead storming past him, walking angrily towards the elevator.

And of course you take the elevator down together, the silence awkward and tense and indescribable. You know he'll probably be walking down to the subway station with you, and it doesn't even surprise you when he gets on the same line as you, heading the same direction. But when he gets off at the same exact stop and you feel him walking up the stairs behind you, you can't just accept it any longer.

"Are you fucking following me?" you spit over your shoulder, your eyes dark with anger.

"No, y/n, I live up this way," he retorts, pointing ahead of you two in the exact direction of your neighborhood.

"God, don't tell me we're neighbors," you groan, trudging down the street, the remnants of last week's snow still stuck in the gutters.

"You live in Arbol Village?" he asks, almost sounding impressed.

"On Maple street," you sigh, with a nod.

"Me too," he chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief.

"This isn't funny, you fucking psychopath," you retort, angry that he's still here in your proximity, and angrier that there's only one path up into your neighborhood from this side, and the hill that leads up is making you out of breath in a way that's nothing but embarrassing.

"And you say I'm the mean one," he responds, smiling as he shakes his head.

"I really don't get how you can be so blasé about this," you huff out, your footsteps heavy as you nearly crest the hill and enter your neighborhood.

"Workplaces are shit, this is how it goes. If I have to find another job, I will. But don't think I won't go down without a fight. Mr. Kangsoo is by far the best boss I've ever worked for, so I'm going to do whatever I can to keep my position," he says, his breathing annoyingly stable even after walking the entirety of the hill. Slowly you two start into the neighborhood, but suddenly he's turning down a path towards the second house on Maple Street, the large dark one with an almost Victorian structure. 

"Of course the fancy one is your house," you sigh, seeing the ornate curtains covering only part of the front window.

"Come in, we need to talk more," Yunho says, beckoning you with his hands, but you can't be bothered. 

"Fuck no, are you crazy?" you respond, already stomping down the sidewalk past his house, not bothering to look back. The last thing you could bear is his presence right now, and for some reason you feel like you're not totally in control of yourself anyway, your legs moving so firmly they'd probably still be going even if you protested. Yunho just sighs, himself drained from the meeting you'd just left, and not having the energy to fight more. Later today, or tomorrow morning, he promised himself, he'd call you and start sorting this out for good. But for now he just watched you grow smaller and smaller, your hair blowing gently behind you in the winter breeze, your legs looking weak.

Once you were home, two and a half blocks from your asshole of a coworker, you collapsed on your bed, passing out in moments. In the late afternoon you woke to the sound of the front door slamming shut, your roommate, Yunji, calling, "shit, sorry! The wind is crazy out there!"

"You're good!" you called back, but your voice made it apparent to her that it was one of those days where you needed to be left alone, so she didn't come into your room. You picked yourself up and stripped off your work clothes, finally freeing your thighs of the tight elastics that held up your socks, two red rings now visible on your skin. Automatically you brushed your teeth, grabbing your comfiest hoodie and sweatpants, and passed out in your bed again, not even eating dinner, not checking your phone. The sun had already begun to set, the sky outside rearing for another stormy night, and your body was lulled to sleep within minutes, your head buried deep into your pillows as you pulled your comforter over your head.

You woke in what felt like minutes, your room eerily quiet. The light looked bright outside, very bright; it was disorienting, both the quiet and the light, and you lifted yourself up, squinting around in search of your phone. You'd forgotten to plug it in last night, so it surely would be almost dead. You found it still in your work bag, hanging on for dear life with the battery at five percent. The time astonished you, 9am, and you gawked at yourself. No wonder you felt so disoriented; you'd been sleeping for nearly sixteen hours.

And as you finally sorted through your notifications, your shock over the time left your brain entirely. Because the shock of having a missed call from Yunho, having two missed calls from him, floored you, literally. You sank down to the ground, furiously clicking to see the times. One was last night, at about 7pm, and the other was this morning about an hour ago. This morning he'd left a voicemail too, presumably right after you hadn't answered. With shaky hands you clicked on it, holding the phone tight to your ear so you wouldn't miss a word.

"Y/n, I know you don't like talking to me, but we really should try to sort this out earlier rather than later. Please call me back as soon as you get this."

Well, fuck.

He sounded disappointed, and frustrated, and perturbed to even be leaving the message. But god was that voice convincing, even to you, the way he worded things so eloquently and politely, like he's genuinely a good and thoughtful person. It hit you hard while listening that maybe your anger wasn't justified, maybe you'd been unfair to him like your boss had said. The sneaking feeling had graced you many times over your months of conflict, but now it felt too strong to ignore. Did he really want to sort this out? It sounded like it. Why, why, why was this so damn confusing for you?

Your mind raced as your stomach growled, as you tried to get ahold of yourself. Still sprawled out on your carpet you felt exhausted, your body somehow still feeling pulled towards sleep despite the hoards of it you'd just been allotted. You peeled yourself up, standing carefully, moving towards your window to get a view of the backyard. Looking at the garden always calmed you, even in the winter when most of the flowers were gone. And as you opened your blinds you realized why things seemed so bright this morning, and why you were barely hearing a sound.

A thick blanket of snow covered everything, flakes still falling gently from the sky which was dotted with clouds. The sun shone through a gap in them, reflected bright off the entirely white ground. You breathed out a sigh of relief, knowing that everyone had been forced to stay home today, so your missing work wasn't really a disruption to the office. Whoever was miffed about having to take your early shift wouldn't have to, after all. It was like the world was granting you a favor, as you often felt that she did, and you were so thankful. Because this, too, was a great excuse to avoid Yunho longer. There was no way you could leave the house with so much snow outside; it wasn't safe. You breathed in a sigh of relief, shaking it out as you finally connected your phone to charge, slipping on some thick socks and gliding your way out to the kitchen.

After breakfast you popped back into your room, shooting off a quick text.

Y/n: I just saw the snow, I don't think I can come over. Let's see tomorrow.

Almost immediately a call comes through from him, but you let it ring out. There was no way you were going to waste this beautiful snow day talking to him, and you had a whole week to resolve this anyway. It gnawed at you, in the back of your mind somewhere, but presently you just couldn't find it in yourself to voluntarily speak to him.

Yunho: We can still talk on the phone. And we really should. Y/n: We should take a break from talking and cool off. For today.

That was how you were justifying it to yourself. You needed a break, deserved a break from him. You wouldn't be able to really resolve anything if you were still pissed, and with the shock of the morning's weather and your body's obvious need for even more rest, you just couldn't take it today. Plus, everyone else was getting a day off, why couldn't you?

Yunho: I disagree

You flip your phone over, setting it on your bedside table, and you walk away. You'd had it with him arguing with you over text too, and the idea of curling up on the couch with Yunji, sipping hot cocoa and watching your favorite movies, sounded too enticing. You were not going to think about him anymore today. It was decided.

And surprisingly you were mostly able to keep your promise to yourself, the day passing in all its wintery glory, your favorite tradition with your roommate leaving you just as content as it always did. With a gentle sigh you both finally stood up, moving to the kitchen to wash the dishes you'd made all day, finally putting away the snacks you'd covered the coffee table with. As you both walked past the window in the hall you stopped short, eyes fixed on the scene unfolding before you.

"Holy shit," Yunji said, grabbing onto your arm. You both were used to the snow here, having grown up in the next town over. But this snow, that now seemed to be three feet deep, was something you hadn't seen since the one glorious winter more than a decade ago. You were eight that year, and the day after Christmas it snowed furiously, continuing all the way until New Year's Day when the ground was so covered that everywhere you looked outside all you saw was white.

You hadn't realized it was snowing all day, that the sky had turned dark in the early afternoon with all of the cloud cover. You were both too engrossed in your fun to notice.

"Well, I guess we're not going back to work for another few days," she laughed, sighing at how lovely it looked.

"Thank god," you replied, sighing in relief.

"Has Yunho been giving you trouble again?" she asked, and you turned to her with a downturned smile.

"When is he not," you sighed, laughing.

"Hey, how did your meeting go, yesterday?" she asked.

"Fucking terrible," you reply, a frustrated hand running through your hair.

"What happened?"

"Boss said that if the two of us can't resolve our differences, he's letting us both go," you answer, sighing harshly.

"Oh my god, that's crazy! How could he do that to you??" she replied, eyes wide.

"Girl, I know. I don't even know how it got to this point."

She moved to hug you, knowing just how much this situation had weighed on you, and just how much your job meant. She'd seen it in your eyes, even if you hadn't always told her exactly what was going on. She knew how sensitive you were, and she couldn't believe your boss would say such a thing. Especially given the years of dedication you'd given to that office, that you so genuinely cared about.

"What are you gonna do?" she asks, pulling back. 

"Well I guess, try to resolve it. I don't know how, though, every time we talk he just pisses me off and we fight. He's not reasonable about anything. He's always joking, nothing is ever totally serious. I saw him stutter for the first time yesterday, when Mr. Kangsoo gave us that ultimatum, but earlier in the meeting he was way too casual about everything. He was calling me hysterical and unstable, and, just, how the fuck does my boss think I'm going to solve this? That man is fucking impossible," you say, shaking your head.

"He sounds like a sociopath," she replies. "If I ever see him I will wring his neck, I swear to god."

"Well, you might. He lives in this neighborhood." Yunji's eyes go wide at your comment, her mouth hanging open. "Yeah, I know. He lives on our street, too, you know the fancy looking house that's second in from the road? Like if you're walking from the station this direction, the second house on the right? Yeah, that's his. I found out yesterday when I was walking home."

"How the fuck does a single guy in his twenties afford that?" she asks, baffled.

"He clearly has family money, he must. I'm sure he's made decent money for the past few years, but not enough to afford that. And all of his stuff, his suits and his briefcase and everything, looks expensive. And it's not like, shit that just looks expensive or name brand stuff. It's subtler than that, it just seems like everything he owns is so high quality."

"Fucking rich boys. I guess it isn't surprising, given how he's behaved. Like he's always gotten his way and never been told no."

"It really seems like it. Everyone always loves him, it's so annoying," you roll your eyes, thinking of every other staff member's reaction to meeting their shiny new coworker, and his easy demeanor, always saying what people want to hear. Except to you, it seemed.

"Well you can't really meet up and talk right now," Yunji says.

"No, but he said we should talk on the phone. I missed two calls from him, and he left me a message. But I can't bear to speak with him on the phone. I don't ever talk to my coworkers outside of work, no matter how close we are," you reply, shaking your head. "It just feels weird. I don't know what I'm gonna do, but I'm ignoring him for the rest of today."

"Understandable," she responds, squeezing your arm for a moment. "I should try to get some work done on my thesis, I guess, but you rest this evening. You deserve it."

As you both retire to your rooms, you sigh into your pillow. Despite the lazy day, despite the sixteen hours of sleep last night, you still feel tired. It must be mental, it's the only explanation at this point. And you know that means you should probably avoid your phone. But you reflexively check it; the anticipation brewing in your head isn't letting up.

You find two more missed calls from Yunho, and another text.

Yunho: How are we going to solve this if you keep ignoring me?

You suppose it makes you feel a little bad, a little guilty. Still, you can't be bothered to respond. You don't know why; you can't explain it. That feeling like you're not totally in control of your actions, like someone else is calling the shots, is back, and it really doesn't feel like something you can fight, or should fight. There's an eeriness about it, but it's so far in the back of your mind that you don't give it a second thought. After turning over your phone you climb into your covers, the light barely there outside as the evening approaches, the sky still covered in dark clouds and the snow still falling.

And just like that, two days pass. The snow has stayed heavy, making it unsafe to leave, the whole city quiet as few feel brave enough to venture outside. A desperate run to the grocery store calls a few, but thankfully you and Yunji have plenty of food in the pantry to last you a few days. She's taken the opportunity to really focus on her work, and you thought maybe you should, too. You never worked on grants at home, but you could bet Yunho was also taking advantage of the quiet time. You didn't really have anything better to do, yet you couldn't bring yourself to work at all, not when your head and gut were rolling with anxiety and fear and a crushing hatred of yourself. That first day avoiding Yunho had felt, well, not good, but justified. But the past two days, more missed calls and texts unanswered, you felt straight up guilty, and stupid. Not really for ignoring Yunho, as much as letting down your boss, which you knew you would. This couldn't be resolved; no matter what the two of you did you'd never get along, and it was clear that there was something in Yunho that made him unable to leave you alone. You hadn't particularly liked the last guy in his position, either, but the two of you had basically ignored each other, easily. But since his entrance to your office, Yunho seemed unable to not bother you, not leave notes, not piss you off every chance he got. And now you couldn't help but ignore him, even though you knew that doing so was fucking you both over, making it certain that you'd never return to that beloved office and your dream job.

You felt stuck. The literal fact of not being able to leave your apartment was eating you alive, making you feel scared and paranoid and vulnerable in ways you knew were illogical. Every little sound started to make you jump; you were losing it, slowly but surely coming apart at the seams. You swore you started hearing your mom's cat meowing for you, and once in the kitchen it sounded so real you spent minutes furiously searching the hall and your bedroom for her. You collapsed on the floor, waves of anxiety rolling over you as you held yourself in the fetal position, not even crying, just hyperventilating.

Yunho: You're being really immature and unfair by not responding to me. Not even giving this a chance of maybe working itself out

You hadn't responded to him in days, but something in you finally broke. It was in the way his words reflected how you felt about yourself, and the severe guilt that it brought you alighted in flames and suddenly felt like nothing but red, hot anger.

Y/n: Fuck you Yunho: Oh, so you are alive

Breathing heavy you stared at the screen, a sudden realization washed over you. You knew it was over; you'd maintained at least some level of professionalism up to this point, albeit not much, with him. Even when you fought in the office you didn't say anything personal or unnecessarily nasty. You only cursed at him under your breath, never loud enough that anyone could hear. But now you had said something nasty, in writing no less. Even if you both somehow made it back to work on Monday, he'd no doubt show your boss what you had said. And even with your long standing relationship with Mr. Kangsoo, you doubted he'd be willing to keep you on after seeing that.

So that was it. It was over. Logically you knew that you could find a new job, that this wasn't the end of your life. The new year was right around the corner, which was always a good time to find new placements. But you had studied communications and psychology specifically for this job, had dedicated years to learning everything you could about funding and mental health care and the ways your boss ran the office. Though it'd never been said directly, you had a feeling that one day you'd become his second-in-command, and maybe even take over running the place once he was ready to take a step back and retire. You loved this part of the city, loved living with your best friend here, and the commute was easy. You'd planned everything so well, yet it still was about to crumble in your hands. And with every passing minute, it felt like you were waiting for your life to implode, which made not being able to leave all the worse.

The next morning you woke to a call from your mom.

"Good morning," she answered, after your muffled and confused, hello? "Happy New Year sweetie."

"Hi mom, Happy New Year," you responded, rolling over to tuck yourself into the covers again. It had gotten bone-chillingly cold with the perpetual precipitation, and pulling the covers off in the morning felt torturous.

"Since you can't come down to see me today I thought I'd call. Are you two doing okay? Do you have enough food?"

"Yeah, we're doing fine," you say through a yawn. "We've got plenty of food, as long as this lets up in a few days."

"God, it better. I'm glad I got to see you on Christmas Eve."

"Me too."

"Are you doing okay? You sound off," she asks you, making your heart sink. She has no idea what's been going on; you've done an expert job of keeping it a secret from her, as you often do with your struggles, because you know she can't really handle it. You know she has too much to deal with on her own, and you never really feel like she gives you good advice, anyway. But with how you've been feeling mentally, hearing someone ask that has you panicking internally.

"Oh yeah, I'm fine, I just woke up is all," you lie, yawning again to punctuate your point. "I'm not really enjoying being stuck inside, I guess."

"That's not like you," your mom laughs, and you know she's shaking her head side to side the way she always does. "You used to always love when you were stuck inside, or stranded somewhere. Do you remember when you got lost at that theme park in Ocean City? When we found you at the ticket booth you were happy as can be. We thought we'd find you crying. The teenage boy who was watching you said you were quiet as can be, just sat in that little nook in total silence. You were such a funny kid." There's a mystical air to her tone telling the story, because she loves to reminisce in that way, and unfortunately you really, really don't. Because that was the time of your life when your dad was still around, and despite the years of therapy you still can't move past it all. 

"Yeah, I remember," you placate her, sighing. You wish you could travel to see her today, just to calm her nerves and make her not worry, because her worrying is the absolute last thing you want. As you stare out the window you see the sky is a bit clearer, and there don't appear to be many flakes still falling. But the snow is still thick and there's surely ice everywhere. You're not even sure if the three separate subway lines you have to take to reach her house are still running.

"Well, sweetie, the weather report said the snow's finally supposed to let up today, so maybe you can get some fresh air soon."

"That sounds good," you mutter, rolling over in bed. "I should go make some breakfast, I'm feeling really hungry. Thanks for calling, love you," you finish the call.

"Okay, love you too sweetie. Talk to you soon," she replies, before you hang up the call.

New Year's Day. You'd forgotten yesterday what day it was, and had been sort of avoiding your phone because of Yunho's texts and calls. You hadn't stayed up till midnight, hadn't welcomed the New Year in any way. You were surprised Yunji hadn't said anything, but then again neither of you really were the types to party or celebrate holidays much. You both had bad memories of them from growing up, or good memories that had turned bad once you'd matured and looked back without your naiveté. And your face and posture were probably screaming 'leave me alone,' Yunji always able to tell if you were upset. You were thankful for that, thankful that she knew how to leave you alone when you needed the space. Really, what did it matter what day it was? New Year's was like any other day of the year, it just had the honor of being first in the lineup. So why was your head spinning so much? Why couldn't you stop thinking about what your resolutions should be?

The morning was strange, even with a delicious bagel and a warm cup of Jasmine tea. It felt strange seeing the sky after it had been covered for days; it even felt strange looking out your living room window to the front yard, the snow on the street gray and muddy and pounded down by the tracks of the few brave souls who'd trekked out or driven in this weather. You saw one neighbor diligently shoveling snow off her driveway, bundled up head to toe in a giant puffy jacket and boots that looked too big for her. Her head snaps up, and you walk towards the window to see what she's seeing; a snow plow was making its way down your street, the drivers finally able to start their work today now that the worst of the storm was behind you. Even the sidewalks looked not so bad, as the clear day had allowed the sun to begin melting the thick snow, the air hot enough that it might not be too icy out there. Something in you called at you to go outside, but the second you thought about it a wave of dread hit you, and you knew you'd be too scared. It would be another day stuck in here, another day avoiding Yunho's texts and feeling so guilty, and you weren't sure if you could take it.

It had gotten to that point now. It had been so long since you felt like this, like you'd rather die than live another moment. Now, just like the first time, you felt so ridiculous and shameful for feeling that way, looking around to see the physical evidence of your privileged life. Your safe and cozy apartment, the food filling the fridge, the brand new washing machine you'd both bought yourselves as a Christmas gift. How could this be so awful? You had all sorts of entertainment, anything you could need to keep you busy while you waited for these snow days to end. You could be updating your resume, starting the search for a new job. You could be calling Yunho back, and trying to find a way through your conflict. You could be doing yoga, meditating, making soup from scratch, reading, writing, learning a new language...

It all sounded horrible. Your mind was collapsing on you, but this time you're not a kid, this time you don't have a great excuse. You'd let some petty drama taint your every waking moment, and you didn't have anyone to blame but yourself. You were too scared to do the right thing, you could see that now, that back when this conflict had started you'd assumed your boss and everyone else would side with you, just because they already knew you. You'd let Yunho get under your skin, to the point that every word he uttered made you angry, letting him in so deep that there was no way out. Not now. You knew this wouldn't be resolved, because you couldn't do it; you could never admit these things to him that you'd just admitted to yourself. You could never apologize, never acknowledge that you played a part. You'd sat yourself staunchly in a position, the innocent one who'd been wronged time and time again by the aggressor, and stepping down from that pedestal would hurt you more than you thought you could bear.

It was the shame of fucking up. Of not being perfect. A conversation from therapy, from almost ten years ago, ricocheted to the front of your mind. 'You're quite a perfectionist, y/n. Do you realize that? It makes you avoid doing certain things, even if you know they're the right thing to do.' You can still see your old therapist's face, her glasses near the tip of her nose as she eyed you. How could you still be right where your fourteen year old self was? You looked like her too, your skin burning with embarrassment at how you hadn't realized that yourself. It felt humiliating to have to be told, because that in and of itself proved you were imperfect. That you weren't totally and completely self aware. The biggest shame you carried was knowing that despite how hard you tried, you never were very good at knowing yourself. 

You laid face down on your bedroom floor. You didn't have the energy or motivation for anything else. You knew clinically speaking, this looked like the start of a depressive episode. But you hadn't had one in years now and were out of practice. What were you supposed to do now? All that felt okay was sinking more into your head, letting the darkness envelop your mind and take you on a ride through your worst memories, your heart racing despite your complete lack of physical exertion.

By early afternoon you'd had enough of that horrifying roller coaster. When you sat up your neck ached, your body screaming at you to never collapse in that position again. You felt jittery, restless, but nothing at home sounded appealing still, not in the slightest. Your eyes catch on your winter boots in the corner of your room, too big to fit on the shoe rack by the front door. And suddenly your mind is made up in less than a second. It was time to go for a walk, to get out of the house. Maybe the cold air would clear your mind.

"Hey, I'm gonna go grab some snacks at Smith's, do you need anything?" you call through Yunji's bedroom door.

"You're going out in this weather?" she asks, opening it.

"The snow let up a lot today, and I'm running low. And I'm feeling too cooped up. It's only five blocks, I'm sure I'll be fine."

"Ok, well, I don't think I need anything. I stocked up on Pocky last time we were there. Are we almost out of toilet paper or paper towels?" she asks.

"No, I just checked," you respond.

"Okay. Be careful," she says, smiling.

"I will, I promise," you say before walking toward the front closet, grabbing your big winter coat and zipping it up.

The outside air is a shock as it greets your face, making your cheeks turn pink almost instantly. The world is still bright, the sun shining the warmest it will all day, but you can see darker clouds off in the distance. You hope they aren't moving too fast; there is only a slight breeze in the air, and mostly it's just so quiet, even with a second snow plow heading down your street. It does feel relieving, a least a little, to finally be outside, and a part of you feels proud for actually going out, given how scared you were this morning. You feel like you're maybe proving to yourself that you aren't such a wuss, that you aren't so prone to avoiding things that one day it'll ruin your life. You walk briskly, your nerves buzzing as your heart rate rises to keep you warm.

It feels nice to be buying your favorite snacks, and you're able to get lost in the normalcy of it for a few minutes. The store is almost empty, so you try making light conversation with the one cashier working, his long hair covered in a beanie. Strolling back outside you're met with the chilly air again, a gust of wind nearly knocking you off your feet as you make your way through the small, empty parking lot. You could have sworn you were only in there for maybe ten or fifteen minutes, but the sky looks almost completely different now, those dark clouds having descended on your area. You start your way back up the hill, bracing yourself against the growing winds, when the sky lets out a low rumble that shakes you to your bones. Suddenly it's raining, the air warm enough to turn the snow into sleet, and it's soaking your face and your hat and your gloves faster than you can believe. The paper bag holding your snacks is disintegrating in your hand, and you shove it under your coat to try to protect it, the cold bag on your stomach making you shiver.

"Fuck, this was a bad idea," you mutter to yourself, shakily making your way finally into your neighborhood, crossing the street that separates the houses from the row of commercial buildings. Your whole body is shaking, your head turned to the ground as you try to avoid getting sleet in your eyes and try to avoid falling. You're moving much slower than you were on your way to the store, carefully planting your feet one in front of the other as you hold your snacks against your stomach. Your brain feels fuzzy, the wind whipping past your ears, and all you can manage to think is, 'just make it home, just make it home.' It's only about three more blocks, you should be able to make it just fine, if you just keep putting one foot in front of the other, if you just keep going, keep goin-

Suddenly someone has grabbed you, your body thrown up like a rag doll, your upper half thrown over their shoulder. You let out a guttural scream, the sound hoarse and weak and getting lost in the storm. You're furiously flailing your legs, wiping the water from your eyes to try to get a look at anything, your lungs heaving as you scream again, this time, "Let me go!!"

The grip on your legs only tightens after your outburst, and then you're hearing a door whooshing open, warmer air greeting you as you enter some house, your eyes able to make out hardwood floors and the large boots of whoever's holding you hostage. You're breathing ragged, trying to get ahold of yourself and figure out where the hell you are, and when you catch a glimpse into the front closet of this house you see those navy blue shoes, with that very unique toe box...

Part 2

Thank you sm for reading! <3

[lilacxquartz]

FIRST IMPRESSIONS

choso x gn!reader

ao3 • masterlist • part 2 >>

summary: stumbling upon a strange man while deeply lost on halloween night in the subway, you find yourself quickly in trouble.

tags/warnings: slight non graphic violence, yandere, reader insert, season 2/shibuya arc references

Quickly finding yourself trapped in the quickly dimming station Shibuya, you found yourself rather lost on what to do, let alone where to go. The flickering lights felt harsh against your eyes, inducing an almost nauseating headache as you attempted to navigate the subway.

With no idea as to what was happening, you pressed on regardless. Maybe there had been maintenance going on? Or was it something else? None of it made sense anyway. One minute you were walking to meet your friend for the big halloween party and the next, the world seemed to scramble into a disorienting mess.

Something was ripe in the air, making you feel uneasy and your gut instinct couldn’t help but ache with unrelenting dread.

You paced through the now seemingly empty space, finding that you could just barely breathe. The atmosphere felt heavy with pressure, the air feeling thick against your lungs.

It was right about then that you saw another presence lurking right by the stairs and although you were surely wary, seeing just the sight of another soul down here alone with you filled you with unfathomable comfort like nothing else.

Quickly approaching the person, you took in their gradually closer appearance. It was a man; tall, pale with long dark hair spearing into two parted bunches. His under eyes were painted purple, suggesting deep set exhaustion with a birthmark of some kind across the midsection of his face. His gaze on you bordered intense, although a flicker of care could be reflected in his stare.

The man watched as you soon devolved into a desperately hopeful mess, with your own eyes sinking into his soul and seeing him as something that he hadn’t been able to fully register himself:

As a human.

There had been no fear lurking behind your eyes, no willingness to cast him away as a monster—no recognition of the blood he wore on his hands—nothing of the sort and with such a revelation, something stirred inside of him. Maybe it was something sinister, maybe it wasn't right, but it was happening and festering, a certain sort of thought that boiled away in his restless mind.

“H-hey, do you um…” you attempted to speak up, your words trailing under his watchful stare. You felt unsettled, but he was your only hope. “Do you know if there’s any trains running right now? I was supposed to take the last one on the platform over, but it seems to be cancelled? A-All of the trains seem to be canc—“

“—you…” he interjected, stopping you in the midst of your nervous ramble, his voice slightly cracking before he cleared his throat. “You shouldn’t be here.”

He stepped forward as his violet eyes sank into your form, searching for any hint of awareness of the unfortunate situation that you had found yourself within, but there was none. This led him to understand that you were completely, blissfully and almost beautifully ignorant of the horrors that roamed the subway, of the hell that was soon to be unleashed on the surface.

“I-I got lost,” you admitted, a nervous laugh escaping your lips as you slightly stepped away, not quite liking the hint of warning that his words carried, “like I said, I was supposed to meet my friend, I was supposed to… I don’t know. I feel like something's wrong down here. I can even think right, let alone find a proper exit. I-It’s like there’s something down here messing with my thoughts.”

The man—Choso—almost twitched before you, his mind racing with almost intrusive thoughts that challenged him to reach out and touch you just to prove that you were real. To prove to him that you weren’t a figment of his imagination (to prove that you were a person who saw him as their equal).

How long has it been since someone looked at him the way that you have?

Surely this couldn’t have been the first time?

“You shouldn’t be here,” he murmured again this time with less volume, his tone adopting a darker edge as he drove his point further, “it’s dangerous.”

You laughed again, not understanding the grave implication of his words. You couldn’t help your reaction, though. You were slightly afraid but your mind refused to acknowledge that something was wrong, even if you did feel it on a deeper level.

“Y-yeah, I know,” you acknowledged, “clearly there’s something up,” you however then paused, hoping to trust the kindness you saw in him just moments ago. “Can you maybe show me the way out if you know it? I’d just like to get home at this point.”

Home. He replayed the word as you said it in his mind again and again until it sounded almost foreign to him. He had no concept of it, yet when he looked at you, he could find comfort in your unsettled gaze, understanding that you saw him for what he truly wished to be.

A darker thought formed once again.

He couldn’t let you go. Not now, not ever.

“I can’t, but…” he gently declined, giving into the part of him that defied reason. Slowly, he reached out to grab at your wrist with his cold calloused hands. He coiled his fingers right around your arm with an almost gentle firmness that hinted at the strength he kept hidden—the strength that would otherwise make him into a monster. He didn’t want to drive another person into hurt though. He wanted to use himself for good.

(To protect you, perhaps?)

“Hey—“ you gasped, trying to tug your arm away.

However Choso’s grip only tightened, reeling you in with almost a desperate plea. “—please,” he whispered, “it’s not safe out there. You’ll stay with me.”

“H-hang on a second, I can’t just—“ you protested once again, trying your hardest to pull away from such force but in doing so, he only tightened his hold on you more and more. He squeezed at your wrist until your bones whined and almost cracked, failing to understand just how fragile humans truly were.

Your heart rate spiked as you were reminded of your own weakness, of the dire situation you found yourself in. Suddenly, you felt weak and perhaps even small; your senses telling you that something was especially not right with this man at all.

Attempting to drive his point home, Choso tried to soothe you, “You’re safe with me. I promise. I’ll protect you from the rest.”

“T-the rest…?” you almost whimpered, fearful for what sort of company he was inviting you into.

“Just stay with me,” he told you, “don’t worry about anything else.”

However, the alarm bells were loudly rolling for you now. Your mind was a mess. This man wasn’t normal. There was something off about him that almost made him seem inhuman, that urged your instincts to break away from him and to run as far as you could possibly go but you couldn’t—his hold on you was completely unforgiving, as if afraid to let you go.

“You’ll be safe with me. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” he repeated.

And so, you were left with no choice but to stay by his side, his grip on you unyielding as he led you deeper into the station, away from whatever horrors lurked outside, and into a different kind of nightmare.

A dream of his that started with you seeing him as human.

Ending with a nightmare of yours that you had run into a monster instead.

[rowanmutt-afterdark]

Kinktober Day 4 Sounding (TFO Orion and D16)

Word Count: 1,511

TFO Orion and D16 X Cybertronian GN Reader

18+ tags: Rough sex, teasing, sounding, and light voyeurism.

(Yes I am planning a second part, the original plan was to make it 3,000 words. That backfired so expect a part 2!!)

Read more below the cut!

During the day, you were all miners working hard in the mines to keep Iacon running. At night, you and your two mechs were lovers who couldn't get enough of one another. The three of you retreated to your respective stations and waited until every bot was in recharge when you all snuck off to enjoy each other's company.

Which brings you to now.

The muffled sounds of Orion were erotic, his hip struts bucked as the vibrating rod within his spike made him a complete mess for D16. You watched the arousing scene before you unfolded as D moved behind your shared lover and grabbed his neck cables with a rough yet calculated gentle hold. It was firm, pulling his helm back so he could kiss the whimpering mech's cheeks as he sobbed behind the gag and blindfold.

“You are doing so well Orion, you have no idea how beautiful you look right now. The way you squirm, begging for release. It's intoxicating, I feel so lucky to see you like this.” D16 purrs in the sinfully deep voice of his he used when he was aroused. It sent shivers down your spinal strut.

To bear witness to such an intimate display, your partners taking part in this little fantasy you thought up was such an honor to you. Your spike was pressing hard against its housing. It was becoming unbearable, but you stayed closed while D took care of Orion.

His servos traced down his front, focusing on the sensitive cables lining just under the edge of his bulky chassis. His digits explore Orion's heated frame, feeling up every inch with eager optics. Hungering for any reaction he could get out of your shared partner, his golden yellow optics were dark with desire, and his intake was drawn back in a smirk that showed just how much he was enjoying being in charge of the both of you.

His optics focused back on you, and your frame stiffened under the heated stare. His frame rumbled as his servo moved to the blindfold and removed it to allow him sight once again. Orion's optics flickered and adjusted to the light before he focused on the two of you. D16 leaned down to kiss Orion's helm before he stalked over to your kneeled position.

He looked over to Orion and barked an order. “Don't look away and don't overload. You must keep your optics on us at all times.” He slowly walked around your form, his servo grabbing a hold of your helm with a low, dark chuckle as he pushed you down.

Faceplate on the ground, aft up. His servo pinned you down with ease while the other rubbed along your panel, feeling for the sensitive wires to trigger that would open your valve. His thick digits ardently sought for that wire until it was pressed upon and the covering of your valve popped open. D rumbled his growl, not quite a chuckle. No, this was primal. It was low and vibrated through your chassis as the mech mounted you without hesitance.

His larger frame slotted against your own, fitting together like two pieces to a puzzle. Your frame shuddered at the impending thrill, his digits teasing your valve entrance. Smearing the lubricant around, testing your eager hole for the next step. His knees dropped one after the other as he pressed your frame into the floor, his hips pressed flush to your aft while one arm wrapped around your middle and the other went to your intake. His digits covered in your fluids pushed past your dermas, and you whined against the blunt object as he urged your glossa to clean it off.

Solvent soaked his digit, the writhing mass in your intake covered it until it was cleaned to his liking, and without warning, his digit was joined by another before the third was shoved inside. Your intake stretched wide and and the three large intrusions thrust inside to cover them in your solvent.

“Get them all nice and wet for me. Make sure they are throughly lubricated.” He purred, admiring the way your optics flickered as your frame started to whirr with the fans trying to cool your heated frame. His digits pushed further into your open intake, coating them with the fluids pooling as you drooled from the intrusion. Your glossa dragged along them to soak them as requested. He hummed approvingly as his hips grind against your rear excitedly at the feeling of your moist orifice preparing them for whatever he had planned.

He pulls his servo away, his digits throughly coated in solvent, he reaches down between your frames, and you hear a hiss, then something hard pressed against you. The slick sounds of something moist is heard from just behind you, curious, you lean your helm down and look under your frame to see that D is stroking his erect spike. It's absolutely weeping with trans fluids. His servo that was in your intake is stroking it. A chuckle vibrates youcatxck, you pull your helm back up to see that D is watching you.

You flush at the fact you got caught watching him lube his spike up. He doesn't push the subject. Instead, he pushes your helm down against the ground once again as he aligns himself with your valve and pushes inside your hole with little resistance. You gasp as he bottoms out with ease inside of you, his servo runs down your front until he reaches the buldge where his spike rests within your clenching walls. A low moan leaves him, a playful nip to your audial with a low rumble of his chassis as a growl passes through him

A whine from Orion has you glancing at him, but D quickly snatches your chin up and makes you look away from the needy bot.

“Eyes forward, he has to watch as I ravage your body all night long~” He purrs before his hips start moving. His spike is thrusting slowly at first, building to a speed that is carnal and rough. The speed takes you by surprise as each thrust leaves you breathless as he rearranges your insides with a pace so fast and hard you can't think. The noises you are making are lewd, solvent drools past your dermas, knees weak, and a valve pulsing with a building charge that has you begging for him to finish inside of you.

Orion is watching from his spot. His spike is aching with the need to release. His transfluids chamber aches to purge the building fluid, but the obstruction inside his spikes channel prevents him from doing so. He watches D ravage your frame, fragging you with a relentless pace. He's jealous that he isn't the one pulling the noises from you. He wants nothing more than to break from his binds and sample that tight valve he knew would suck him inside without hesitance.

Orion shifts his leg struts to sit just under him and starts to grind himself against his metal, groaning in relief as the aching need to be touched is achieved. It wasn't the touch he wanted, but it would do. He watched as D chased his building charge. The snarls and growls of his pleasure were hot. Fueling his grinding to get faster, his valve clenching around nothing as his node drags along his leg and with a roll of his hips he starts to grind roughly at a pace that starts to push him to the edge of his building overload. His hips rock desperately, humping with huffs of pleasure leaving him as he feels his charge building tight within his frame. It hurts so bad. He just wants to let go!

Your towards your own end, the savage rocking of his hips against your own is mind numbing. You are lost to the world around you as the rolling heat is close to snapping. A servo is between your spread thighs and rubs at your node as a low, sultry voice whispers a command.

“Overload for me.” D whispers, and you listen.

Your frame stiffened and shook as the hot flash of pleasure spreads through your body and shakes you to your very core. You cry out as your valve snaps down and D follows suit. His spike pumps you full with his transfluids as he fills your chamber with his hot fluids. You feel your body go limp, falling back against his as the euphoria floods your system, and D holds you close to his body to kiss your face and helm with his own exhaustion curling around his processor. He does pause to see that Orion is heaving, he grows worried that something happened until his optics land in the sounding rod on the floor,a limp spike, and transfluids covering the front of his frame.

He clicks his glossa with a hum of disappointment “That wasn't very smart of you, Orion. I have to punish you now. Only good boys get to overload. And you are far from being a good boy~”

[nikidontsurf]

GEORGE HARRISON and PATTIE BOYD leave Kinfauns to go to the Walton and Esher Magistrates Court, March 18, 1969.

  She was at Kinfauns, their bungalow home in Esher, Surrey, playing genial hostess to a group of visitors from Scotland Yard’s drug squad. She recalled the events in her memoir Wonderful Tonight: ‘Suddenly I heard a lot of cars on the gravel in the drive – far too many for it to be just George. My first thought was that maybe Paul and Linda wanted to party after the wedding. Then the bell rang. I opened the door to find a policewoman and a dog standing outside. At that moment the back-doorbell rang and I thought, Oh, my God, this is so scary! I’m surrounded by police.

The man in charge introduced himself as Detective Sergeant Pilcher, from Scotland Yard, and handed me a piece of paper. I knew why he was there: he thought we had drugs, and he said he was going to search the house. In they came, about eight policemen through the front, another five or six through the back and there were more in the greenhouse. The policewoman said she would follow me while the others searched and didn’t let me out of her sight. I said, ‘Why are you doing this? We don’t have any drugs. I’m going to phone my husband.’ I rang George at Apple. ‘George, it’s your worst nightmare. Come home.’

The officers clearly thought the Harrisons would be at Paul’s wedding. The timing was not a coincidence. (...) Pilcher had already busted Mick Jagger, Brian Jones and Donovan, as well as Lennon and Yoko the previous year. National treasures or not, The Beatles were no longer protected from the law. - ‘And in the End: The Last Days of The Beatles’ Ken McNab

  I was with George in the office when that call came through. It was the end of a long day at Apple. Pattie rang and said, ‘They’re here – the law is here,’ and we knew what to do by then. We phoned Release’s lawyer, Martin Polden. We had a routine: he came round to Apple, and we all went down by limousine to Esher, where the police were well ensconced by then – and I stood bail for George and Pattie. They went off to the police station. We were all extremely indignant because it was the day of Paul’s wedding, a poor way to celebrate it. The police can be so nice.

George was calm about it. George is always calm – he sometimes gets a grump, but he’s always calm – and he was extremely calm that night, and very, very indignant. He went into the house and looked around at all these men and one woman, and said something like. ‘Birds have nests and animals have holes, but man has nowhere to lay his head.’ – ‘Oh, really, sir? Sorry to tell you we have to…’ and then into the police routine.

That’s how calm and how cross he was, because, as he said, he kept his dope in the box where dope went, and his joss sticks went in the joss stick box. He was a man who ran an orderly late-Sixties household, with beautiful things and some nice stuff to smoke.

 In my opinion he didn’t have to be busted because he was doing nobody any harm. I still believe what they did was an intrusion into personal life. - Derek Taylor in ‘The Beatles Anthology’

[angelwhisp3rs]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ man like me

Pairing: RE!2 Leon x fem!reader

Summary: Leon has gone through so much training, life always made it look like he didn't luck out. Always the butt of the joke, he questioned if he would ever be a man. His partner seems to think he is man enough for her &lt;3

Tags: Smut; bj; he cums in her face; slight sub!leon; leon gets called a fairy because he is not considered a "macho man" (i hate m*n)

Notes: First post! I'm so excited, i've been brainrotting for RE for years, and just now decided to add to the community. Love you all! Feel free to give me any tips for my writing or some prompts!

Also, please! If you are a minor, i don't feel comfortable with you interacting with my content, so no minors allowed ok?

Have you ever felt like you weren’t blessed? Well, Leon felt that every day of his life. His parents dying, his rough childhood in the orphanage, he had to work twice as harder than anyone of his peers to achieve anything. Now, as a cop, he believed that this was all in the past - he chose the manliest job of them all.

Oh, well. Turns out that stations were just an adult hangout spot for jocks that never grew out of their high school days.

The women would coo at him, calling him cute and adorable, while the older officers would sneak some comments about him being a “fairy”. Fucking idiots. 

After some months working with them, Leon managed to gain at least some respect among his colleagues - he was a great cop after all, and he even managed to tone down some of the ridiculous teasing (and plain homophobia, if you ask him). 

To the surprise of everyone there, a new recruit would be coming in, making Leon celebrate a little on the inside - maybe it would be his chance to stop being the butt of the joke and finally laugh along with the rest, not being the one laughed at.

He couldn't wait to finally turn his luck around.

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

Turns out he is wrong. Of course things wouldn’t go his way once. The rookie was a girl - well, a woman, and a pretty one at that. 

The men there went ballistic. The single, desperate for attention, and the married, aching for an affair. Used to the calm and pliant women in the precinct, the men didn’t wait for even 5 minutes to let out their disgusting comments, calling her a hot piece of their ass, some even suggesting that they could ‘teach her’ the ways around there.

They were so wrong. Cutting their comments short, she looked at them in disgust, and distributed answers that put them back into their places. Hell, she even dared to ask how the deputy’s wife wasn't arrested for animal cruelty for sleeping with a pig like him.

Leon looked at her with stars in his eyes - she was different from him after all, not letting those idiots run through her. The bigoted idiots decided that as a “punishment” to her, she would be his new partner, matching their work hours and patrolling together. That fact made him excited, but not for long. Unfortunately, his intrusive thoughts began swarming his head: “Do you really think she won’t make fun of you?” and “A woman like her would eat up a man like you”.

The only thing he could do was stand a hand to her, offering a handshake “Hi there, partner. I’m Leon Kennedy”.

She had a predatory smirk on her face, looking at him up and down. “Hi, Leon. I think we’re gonna be great partners”.

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

When Leon thought she would eat up a guy like him, he didn’t think it would be like that. It was way after the time they had to clock out, and they were the only ones left in the station. Leon was backed up in the evidence room, his pants on the floor as her mouth worked around his cock, drenching it with her spit. The only sounds heard were the man trying to drone out his moans with his hand on his mouth, and her gagging as she took him as deep as she could in her throat.

To Leon, this had to be a dream - no way that would ever happen. But as he looked down, her sinful eyes looking up at him, he knew that he couldn’t even dream of something as good as this. He had to be careful not to knock out the evidence in the surrounding files, choosing to rest his hand on her ponytail - quite convenient for the situation.

“You are doing so well, baby. Why don’t you come in my face, and show them that you are the only man able to do that, huh?” She taunted him as she kept pumping his cock his her hands, slick with her saliva and the precum that drooled on his tip

Her mouth returned to his member as she kept her hands going, thriving at his blushing face and his desperate whines. The man was going crazy, it’s been so long since something other than his hand touched his cock, that the 8 minutes of her mouth - which he believed to be 30, were enough to bring him to the edge. Soon, her mouth pulls back as she jerks him faster, angling at her face as he coats it with his pearly cum, hitting her cheeks, mouth and chin.

While he believed that his soul had left his body and come back, she stood up and grabbed some tissues there to clean her face. All cleaned up, she helped him put his pants back on and pressed some kisses to his jaw, whispering to his ear “Why don’t you come over to my place and show my cunt who is the only man to fill it up?”. After that, she left the evidence room with a smirk, looking back at him once and throwing a wink at him.

Well, it turns out that luck was a person, and it finally caught up to him.