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simpjaes · 11 months ago

Text

DAY-SHIFT. (p. sh)

― part one here! After finding out that your boss has seen, heard, and instructed you through some pleasurable nights while parading around as a faceless cam-boy, you decide that your best course of action is to: call out sick. use vacation days. avoid Park Sunghoon at all costs. Unfortunately, ten days doesn’t appear to be nearly enough time to erase what’s happened, and Sunghoon refuses to be avoided. or the one where sunghoon pretends that he isn’t an anxious mess over accidentally exposing himself and you just so happen to have a lot of fucking empathy.

minors dni

PAIRING ― boss / cam boy!sunghoon x afab reader

WORDCOUNT― 14.5k

CONTENT― forbidden office romance kind of, smidge of angst if ur sensitive, mentions of predatory behavior from sunghoon, he is more desperate than he is dominant, just the way we like it.

NOTE ― bro im so sorry this took way too long to write, it also is way longer than it's supposed to be. but yknow. i had to do him right lmfao. NOT PROOF READ.

nsfw tags under cut

nsfw tags― perverted sunghoon, heavy petting, making out, foreplay on a chair lol, desk sex, very intimate shit ok? ok., pussy eating, jerking off, finger fucking, fingers-in-mouth antics, gagging, implications of something more than just an office fling, unprotected sex, he fills you UP!!! YIPEE!!!

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Avoidance.

That is the only way you know out of any awkward or unsavory situation. Avoid, avoid, avoid. Find a new job, change your name, dye your hair– question all of your life choices up to this point.

It’s the fact that never in your life have you had an interest in live sex cams. It was always just a porn video or a nice erotic novel for you. Sometimes curiosity gets the best of you though, like it does all people, and it’s not like you thought anyone would ever know who you are or catch you in the act of feeding into your curiosities.

The one time you ever navigated to the live camera feed on your favorite porn site did shift your sexual appetite a little bit. A whole new world of seeing exactly what you want without needing to search for far too long for that perfect video…for a cost, of course.

You made good money already, and it’s not like you weren’t going for that promotion at the time either. You thought, why not? Why not pay a pretty, faceless man for some anonymous jerking off and move on with your life?

The one time you found something to satiate the late night body-cravings, the point of pleasure ended up being…your boss?

Small world? Miniscule, fucking tiny little world.

For days you wondered if Sunghoon’s text to you was just a coincidence. After all, the faceless man on screen didn’t say a word to you after you uttered the name of your boss. Even if he directly said your name. Even if Park Sunghoon uttered your false name at work.

Consistent back and forth in your head. From, “No, how could that even be possible? No way is it him.” to “but Mr.Park started being weird after the first call, he used both names, he played off of the boss/employee dynamic.”

You’re going crazy as you send another email to your department, apologizing for taking so many days off but not truly apologetic. It’s been ten days now and Sunghoon has yet to text you again.

That little “Can we talk?” can be heard in your head in his voice. Only now recognizing how clear and unique it truly is when he does speak. You try not to realize how similar the cam-boy sounded to him. Only connecting the dots when they force you to do it, really. You still try to convince yourself that the text was about firing you, given his actions at work that very same day.

Maybe he was avoiding you because he felt awful about needing to fire you?

Maybe he sent that text message to start the process of pushing you out?

After all, it’s still very difficult to imagine Park Sunghoon having a cock that nice, or cum in that amount. Given, it’s not like you ever thought about him jerking off or anything, it’s just��

You don’t fucking know. Your brain is a mess of shaking anxiety and echoes of sexual frustrations and moans.

You were refunded your money. He texted after the session. He said your name. It’s him, isn’t it?

You refuse to fucking find out.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

From:...[ [email protected] ]

CC:...[ [email protected] ]

BCC:...

Subject: Time off Request: Rejected. Insufficient PTO.

[insert your name here],

The time you have requested from the 27th to the 3rd has been rejected due to insufficient hours. As of last Thursday, you are no longer meeting the minimum hour requirement as a full-time employee. Your PTO is at 0 hours and 00 minutes and you now have three unexcused absences. Please return tomorrow with a signed order or note that exempts you from work. If you move forward without returning to the building, this will be grounds for termination. Please review the company handbook and job abandonment guidelines.

Additionally, COO Lee, myself, and Division manager Park will be scheduling a meeting with you in the upcoming days, failure to appear will result in immediate termination.

Thank you,

Well, fuck. You knew the time to avoid this would dry up, and this ten day hideaway to fake your death didn’t quite pan out.

Devastating, truly, that you have to walk through those doors with the same legs your boss may or may not have seen spread open for him through a grainy webcam image. Horrifying, that you have to look him in the eye and explain that you really were sick for the past ten days, that you definitely were not hiding the shame of your sexual desires.

The worst part about all of this? Not just the embarrassment but the fact that…you liked it. On that night, had he admitted it was him, you may not have ended the call yourself. It felt like it added some danger to your arousal at the time. Which, naturally, makes you more embarrassed now. Mostly because, at worst if that was Mr.Park, it was predatory. At best though? You very well may have consented.

But the what ifs don’t matter now. The only thing that matters is forcing yourself through the awkwardness of being at work after avoiding it for so long already.

Fortunately for you though, work is…weirdly normal. In fact, no one acts like you’ve missed ten days at all. You are greeted by the usual co-workers, you sit down at your desk and can log in as usual, and there are no warning emails or invitations for what would be considered a meeting of termination either.

The day goes by just fine, suspiciously so. Sunghoon, though you’re avoiding him at the moment, doesn’t appear to be too out of character either. At one point, you were forced to drop corrected paper work off in his office, and he gave you the same usual and small “Thank you�� before you stepped out with your legs threatening to buckle.

Then again, his “casual” appreciation could just be your mind playing positive little tricks on you. Maybe it wasn’t casual at all. Maybe that little uncharacteristic breath afterwards isn’t just in your head. You didn’t make eye contact with him during that brief moment, and you did rush out quite quickly so you wouldn’t really know. However, in the deepest part of your brain his voice really does match the one who said all those dirty things to you.

Maybe you’re still overreacting.

Or maybe you dreamed all of this up.

You choose to remain unaware of the awkwardness around you solely because everything else is normal. Deep, deep down, you know. But you’re not giving that truth a chance to thrive or run your brain anymore.

And just as the day comes to an end, you’re actually feeling better. Anxiety is draining out of you, fear and embarrassment sit dormant in some hidden part of your brain over the small possibility of virtually fucking your boss. It seems you’ve let this work day clear up all of that fear in your head.

You were wrong, right? It wasn’t him, right? He’d have tried to defend himself by now. What boss wouldn’t be absolutely terrified that you’d report him, anyway? After all of that?

You actually feel a little dumb at the possibility of Mr. Park ever wanting you sexually, or ever even wanting to speak to you in that way. Asking to see your pussy? Telling you how to touch it? No, that’s definitely not him. Couldn’t be him.

And your eyes do stray after a little while. Just to steal glimpses into his office, feeling relieved and weightless now that it appears your fears are over and finally understood. Doesn’t change the fact that now when you look at him, you might be wildly fucking attracted to him. Because fuck, imagine if that was him. You’re kind of forced to put his image to the faceless cam-boy now, not that you want to do that or anything. It just…you can’t really blame yourself for it.

You lend yourself a little laugh. As happy as you are that you’re able to convince yourself that it’s not Sunghoon’s cock you’ve yearned for, you really wouldn’t mind sleeping with someone as handsome as him.

Crazy how the lack of anxiety lets you think those types of things though, isn’t it? When your brain is no longer fogged by fear or embarrassment, it’s like the clarity can sometimes be scarier simply because you don’t know how true certain statements are. Even through all of that fear, maybe a part of you wished it was him.

Even with the weight on your shoulders lifted, in hindsight, maybe you’re even a little disappointed that it wasn’t.

And, just as you’re preparing to clock out and head home with a big secret crush and a little pep in your step, you hear the familiar notification of an email. No problem, probably just a daily report or something.

From:...[ [email protected] ]

CC:...

BCC:...

Subject: Mandatory Advising

[insert your name here],

Please come to my office before you leave for the day to discuss your conduct as of late.

Thank you,

Park Sunghoon

Division Manager

000-000-0000 ext. 000

Well, double fuck. To think everything was fine despite you being well aware of that shit HR said to you previously?

You barely recognize how the email is sent directly to you from Mr. Park, not including HR or COO Lee. In fact, the anxiety wells up inside of you so quickly that you nearly have to dry heave a few times before taking a deep breath.

In your head, it’s not even about the web-cam session with a faceless man anymore. Your anxiety about that died the moment you successfully lied to yourself enough, now you’re genuinely just afraid you’ll lose your job or that beloved promotion you worked so hard to be qualified for. You just had to let your anxiety run your life for the past ten days, didn’t you? After all, skipping work to such an extent? Everyone had to have known that it was a lie eventually.

So, you stand to your feet, brush off your thighs, and attempt to keep your heart from pounding as you make your way to Mr. Park’s office expecting to see HR, COO Lee, and a severance package on the desk waiting for your signature.

Instead, you walk in to just find your boss. He’s looking at you as he normally would, eyes focused on his screen before glancing at you for a moment and nodding his head to one of the chairs in front of his desk.

“Mr. Park–” You start, nearly wincing at the way you say it because, well, you haven’t said it since the night you had your pussy out on display. It’s only natural to physically react, right?

“One moment.” He says in a small voice, clicking a few times with the mouse as you watch the monitor light shine across his cheeks with each window he minimizes.

It’s silent for a few moments as you awkwardly look around an office you’ve been in countless times. His lights are always dimmed, the temperature is always comfortable. You’re gonna miss this office, though it’s not your own. It was a nice, brief escape before all of this if you’re being honest.

“How was work for you today?” He turns his attention to you, finally adjusting and rolling his chair to center himself in front of you behind his desk

You pause at the question, unintentionally tilting your head at it like a puppy. “Good? Normal, I guess?”

You watch as he nods with a tight-lipped expression, eyes falling to his desk as he takes in a deep and disappointed sounding breath.

“Well, that’s one of us.” He huffs out, causing you to feel a bit confused with his tone. Is he being…passive aggressive? And when he snaps his eyes from his desk straight to your own confused gaze, you can almost sense a bit of something else in them compared to usual.

Not anger. Not disappointment.

He looks worried.

“Eleven days–” Sunghoon drones on with an exhausted tone, cutting himself off with another breath that shows you were right to assume his current displayed emotion. “You have ignored my text messages for eleven days.”

You’re shocked by that because as far as you’re concerned, he has not texted you.

“What are you–” You furrow your brows at him, frantically pulling out your phone. “You haven’t texted me. See? The last one I got was–” You take a second as you pull up his texts and remember the exact time he texted you. So late into the night, right after…that. Naturally, you silence yourself, afraid to say it out loud.

“On the contrary,” Sunghoon denies your proof. “I texted from my personal phone.”

You hesitate again, looking down and noting the notifications under the tab of “message requests.” To be fucking fair though, you didn’t even know that existed so you never really paid attention to it. Especially as you practically avoided your phone out of fear that he’d be texting you again.

You were thankful he didn’t. That comforted you. Now though? Your comfort is replaced yet again with anxiety because, well, he texted you consistently after that night.

“Oh–” You say quietly, seeing a glimpse of “Please, let me call y–” in one of the messages.

“I didn’t see those.” Quickly, you turn your screen off and shove your phone back into your pocket, nervously clasping your hands in front of you and looking to the floor.

“I will reiterate then.”

You can hear the leather on his chair squeak against his expensive suit when he leans forward, both hands splayed out on his desk in a wide and intimidating stance in front of you.

“Wait–” You look around the office now. “If you’re going to fire me– shouldn’t the others be here too?”

Sunghoon pulls back at that, narrowing his eyes before lending a very small and even more nervous chuckle.

“I’m not firing you. I told them I’d take care of your sudden and, quite frankly, unhelpful vacation.”

You look to the floor again, feeling scolded for your actions but having a genuine reason. If Sunghoon truly is aware of that reason for your absence, he understands too, right?

“I have been beyond inappropriate with you.” He blurts now, that same leather squeaking as he leans back again and looks away from you the moment you snap your head up. “I have reason to believe you’ve not yet reported me, and I’d like to ask for the opportunity to explain myself before you do.”

You feel a chill wash over your whole body, cold sweat peaking right at your temples as you stare forward. He’s being so professional about this, and that lie you’ve convinced yourself of is showing it’s face as just that, a fucking lie.

So this is it?

So there it is? A semi-admittance that it was him? That little feeling in the back of your head that wishes it was diminishes within an instant. In fact, you narrow your eyes at him, your nose crinkles, and you feel frustration bubble up in your gut.

“So you admit that it was you?” You ask, needing a full confirmation.

“Yes.” Sunghoon sighs, leaning back somehow further, creating as much distance from you as possible before unintentionally rolling his eyes. Mostly due to the fact that he was stupid enough to let this happen, mostly to shame himself. “What I did was inappropriate and unacceptable. I didn’t intend for this to ever happen.”

Now you feel a bit…pissed off.

Like? Oh, he didn’t intend for this to happen? What? You mean he didn’t intend to let you fucking find out! Well, as good as he is at playing the part of a slutty man on the internet, he’s not so good at acting in real life, now is he? Saying your false fucking name at work, saying your real name with his cock out?

What in the fuck are you supposed to do about this? Why is he giving you the ability to report him? He’s the one with the power here. He could fire you now and bury the information if he so pleased. After all, He’s besties with COO Lee, right? That bitch in HR has an obsession with him too. Hell, everyone here loves the guy.

You’re just a bottom of the barrel employee trying to work your way up. If you got him fired, surely he’d make damn sure you never work for a decent company like this one again. Additionally, you don’t even want to report him.

Yeah, it was fucking weird that he just knew it was you and kept going. Super strange that he had to have known after the first call, only to ask to see you in the second one. Why does that turn you on in the midst of this anxiety induced spiral? Why the fuck is the idea of Park Sunghoon apologizing for masturbating to and for you so alluring?!

Sure, maybe it’s kind of nice knowing that someone of his status would ever find an interest in you, but it doesn’t quite wash the frustration away. You have every right to question, and every right to be pissed off about it.

Still, in this quiet room, Sunghoon is stoic and all you can think about when you look at him is the way he said “if I were your boss i’d–” and the way he fucked his palm while saying it, implying he wanted it to be you while simultaneously knowing it was you watching.

Since fucking when did Mr. Park ever show a sexual interest in you? And if he did, why the fuck couldn’t he have just been normal about it?

“That was really fucked up, you know that?” You argue immediately, voice shaking at the speed of which your emotions shift. Your resolve isn’t quite as clear as it probably should be. Perhaps you should report him, or maybe you already should have. But, it’s not like you accepted the truth until he demanded it of you.

You would have let it slide. Both of you could have pretended it never happened. You could’ve gone home and continued working, never paying a cam-boy again had Sunghoon not called you into this stupid, comfortable ass office.

“In my defense, I was just doing my job. Though it’s my own fault for not telling you, my job here was at risk if you had found out.”

“You made me talk about you.” You roll your eyes at him now, gaining the power and control over the conversation. “And you thought I wouldn’t find out?! What? Did that get you off or something?”

“I–” Sunghoon stops himself from answering that question truthfully. He quickly tries to explain away the stutter instead. Never has he been scolded by an employee, but you’re well within your rights to do so. “I wasn’t in my right mind. I never get called by name during these sessions and I apologize for having you say it.”

“And you want me to report you?” You raise a brow at him. “Want me to just storm right into HR and tell her how you’re a fucking pervert? Want me to tell her how you told me to repeat your name? To thank you for it? Is that really what you want?”

Are you enjoying yourself a little too much? Maybe.

Sunghoon doesn’t respond though, instead, he runs his hand through his hair and sighs from the stress welling up inside of him. He can only act calm and collected for so long, and it’s been eleven days already. He hates how hearing you say those words goes straight to his cock at a time like this, he hates even more how all of this could have been avoided if he had simply declined your second call.

But you’re not wrong. He is a pervert, and he did tell you to thank him for the pleasure you were getting from his voice and half image alone. At the time, he was so turned on he really just couldn’t help himself. You fed his sexual appetite unknowingly and now this is the consequence of his action. Being a known pervert.

Is it what he wants though? To be reported? Humiliated?

Fuck.

Arguably, just having you humiliate him like this is enough. Drives him crazy, really. Whether it be from arousal or guilt, or both.

And for the first time since you started working here, you see him for what he truly is. A strong man to an extent, but he’s crumbling under his own mistake and it makes you wonder just how far he would’ve taken it had you not found out.

“And what if I didn’t realize who I was fucking myself for?” You glare. “Would you have asked for more? Avoided me here even more? Would you have declined my application for the assistant position because you can’t come to terms with the fact that you’re a fucking pervert?!”

Sunghoon raises his hands in defense.

“Please–” His voice sounds panicked. “Please, keep your voice down.”

“Answer the question, then. Just fucking own it at this point.” You throw your arms up now, letting them fall back down in a slap to your thighs. “Would you have made my work-life miserable just so you could watch me get off to you? Knowing the whole time? Would you have kept on with that boss slash employee shit just so it felt more real for you?”

Staring forward at him, you watch him accept that everything you’re saying is likely exactly what would have happened. Maybe he really will try to own it. Which would be… a good thing if you decide to let your own resolve falter.

So fucking secretive, huh? An actual, real life degenerate? And it’s Sunghoon of all people?

“Maybe…” Sunghoon trails off, making himself seem much smaller than he usually is on a day-to-day basis. “I mean, No–I,”

Oh, he’s actually stuttering.

“And you want me to tell on you? You want me to fuck your life up?” You raise a brow. “As if I didn’t pay you to do it?”

In all honesty, aside from the anxiety and awkwardness, and despite never once thinking of Sunghoon too sexually, things have changed. Drastically. Especially after being confronted with this situation and he’s not intimidating you or using his power to control you. No, he’s giving you the power and quite frankly, you don’t know what to do with it.

Are you basking in it? Absolutely. Is it nice to see him cower in front of you? In that big plush chair that costs more than your monthly income? Hell yeah.

But goddamn, had he approached you before all of this and asked for a date, or showed interest, you would have gladly partaken in a secret romance with him. He’s intelligent, attractive, clean, and has money. It’s not like you ever expected the guy to go home and fuck himself on camera.

You never thought he was the type to be so lonely either. Or so desperate, judging by how he acted during those two sessions. Arguably, you always wondered why there was never a ring on those pristine fingers.

And while you were definitely the victim in this situation, you feel more embarrassed than you do violated. Many nights you thought of how he spoke, how he said how badly he wanted you. It’s embarrassing because you’re starting to love the idea of who those words really came from. The Park Sunghoon, so untouchable in the business world. So untouchable by women and men solely because he appears to be too expensive, too pristine.

But you…

You’ve seen him dirty.

Part of you wishes you didn’t pay to be humiliated like this. The rest of you wishes you didn’t fucking like it as much as you do.

“It’s only fair.” Sunghoon explains with a short breath. “I feel awful for what I’ve done, and I should have told you the moment I recognized her as, well–” He pauses with a pained face, as if he hates hearing himself say it. “You.”

“Then, why didn’t you?” You raise your brow again, nearly forgetting you’re at work, solely focused on the conversation at hand and feeling relieved at the way it’s going.

Sunghoon shifts in discomfort, looking away from you.

“Do you want honesty?” He asks in a quiet voice, leaning forward on his desk but refusing eye contact. He keeps his gaze lowered the entire time, his voice small and shaky.

There’s still people in the office, though his door is closed and it’s unlikely he can be heard.

You nod to him with an even smaller “Go on then.”

“I tried to convince myself that it wasn’t you.” He says, shifting his hands and picking at his cuticles.

Man, he really knows how to act sorry, doesn’t he?

“I avoided you after that first call, solely because I think I wanted her to be you. Which is…incredibly inappropriate.”

He looks up at you now, searching for a reaction and only seeing you nod at him. His eyes shift right back down as he continues.

“My avoiding you led you to– um– more services.” He explains quieter, admitting in full the situation he’s allowed to take place, seeming more and more insecure with his words than he ever has before. “I can admit that I have fantasies and needs.”

Silence.

“After that first call, I couldn’t help but be entirely attracted to you. The idea of–”

You suddenly find yourself thinking back to all of those things he said to you again, parading as if he wasn’t your boss, telling you what he'd do if he were. He seems to have accidentally found a sexual interest in the dynamic…and he fucking dragged you into it with him.

“Mr. Par– Sunghoon.” You cut him off, actually feeling a bit of pity now at his admittance.

His words make you feel like maybe he’s not entirely just a pervert who was intending to make you get off to him from the start. If anything, he probably felt uncomfortable at first knowing who was on the other end of the call. It’s the fact that his real life job was at risk if you found out, and still he indulged despite that. He accepted that second call, he asked for more, he acted like he really does want you.

To the extent that losing his job was in the front of his mind and he still did it. He ignored the danger of it and prioritized getting off…with you. You find yourself wondering if this would have happened to any other employee under him if they happened to stumble across his stream too.

Part of you wants to pretend he wouldn’t, because the idea that all of this is happening solely because it was you? It hits a little too hard, a little too deep.

“Okay, okay. Stop,” You say, keeping your eyes on him and willing him to look up at you. “You don’t have to keep explaining, I get it.”

“No.” He does meet your eye this time, stopping your brain of all thoughts at how differently you see him now versus all the times before. “I do.”

He’s so honest. Probably too honest for his own good. Maybe that’s why he’s so good at his job, maybe that’s why everyone loves him. Maybe a bit of lying would help him in this situation if it were anyone else, but for you?

You kind of enjoy the way he’s telling the truth. Admitting that he was desperate, apologizing for wanting you even if just for a brief moment.

“I asked you to turn on your camera for selfish reasons. I asked you to say my name, then I made the mistake of exposing myself because I–” He hesitates, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply through his nose. “I struggled to pretend it wasn’t me, and that she wasn’t you. I very well knew what I was doing, and at the time, I wished that you did too.”

More silence as you stare at him, stunned, slightly in awe.

“But I knew you wouldn’t have reciprocated. What I’ve done is criminal, and I am encouraging you to report me for it if that’s what you deem necessary.”

“And if I don’t?” You don’t leave any more room for silence now, feeling desired and validated.

You can’t pretend that you’re mad, though you were previously. You simply can’t pretend that, now at least, you wouldn’t reciprocate. If anything, you’re more interested now than you think you ever would have been before.

“We can forget any of this ever happened. I’ll stop streaming and accepting private calls, and we can hopefully move forward without any ill-feelings of one another.” He blinks at you, near pleading with his eyes. “I’ll push your application through– That is, if you still want the position.”

Sunghoon does wince at the bribe, considering he’s never done such a thing let alone commit acts of sexual harassment, or perhaps even non consensual foreplay with someone. It really really wasn’t entirely intentional, and he’s disgusted with himself. If you report him, he’d take the hit to his reputation and career, but if you don’t…what then?

Ill-feelings, he says? If anything, you might feel more ill parading around like you wouldn’t want him to do all of those things he said previously, with free-will to say as he pleased without the fear of you knowing who the words were coming from.

“Can you please stop with the professional talk?” You hum out with an exhausted eye roll. “I don’t want the promotion if you’re just offering it so I don’t rat you out.” You narrow your eyes now and lean yourself forward. “You hope to forget this ever happened? Really?”

Carefully, the two of you watch each other for a while longer. Sunghoon looking like he’s about to catch himself on fire, and you, looking annoyed and amused. Still, the thick air in the room starts to feel suffocating under the pressure of the “issue” at hand as you scold him further.

“What you did was predatory. But– I don’t want to ruin your life over this.”

You watch as Sunghoon listens, his posture opening up a bit more as you speak, showing that he’s being relieved of his stress through your words alone.

“Are you trying to hold a promotion over my head over this?”

Before he gets the chance to curl in on himself again, you answer for him.

“Maybe.”

You continue too, not letting him speak for the time being. Or, rather, giving him a chance to breathe.

“Should you change your username and continue doing what you want behind closed doors because it’s no one else’s business?” You really watch him this time. “Yes.”

He blinks at you, raising a brow in slight confusion.

“Did you take advantage of me?”

He nods before you whisper out another “yes” yourself.

“Would I let you do it again…?”

Oh, for Sunghoon, it’s hard to breathe right now as he anticipates what you’ll say. Is it going to be a ‘no’ this time? Are you going to stand up and change your mind? Despite just stating you don’t want to ruin his life?

God, hasn’t he already let you?

“Yes.”

Pause.

“I’m sorry?” Sunghoon responds in disbelief, shifting his eyes to his hands and then back to you. “Come again?”

“Sunghoon.” You make it a point to call him by his name now, ignoring the etiquette of a proper boss and employee dynamic. “I am humiliated by all of this but I can see that you are too. You’ve admitted your guilt and even go as far as encouraging that I report you.” You pause again, knowing that this isn’t where the conversation should be going for any, uh, normal person, you suppose.

“If you had just told me. If you had said anything about wanting to, like, fuck me, I would have done it with or without the promotion on the line.”

Does that make you sound a little desperate? Yeah. But it’s not like he doesn’t know how badly you need to be fucked. After all, you know, the cam sessions and stuff. You were literally paying a stranger to get you off.

Shouldn’t he, of all people, know that you were bad-off enough to get laid?

Sunghoon’s issue though, is that he never looks at his employees sexually. No matter how pretty, no matter how much they flaunt themselves at him. He never has, and probably never will again. If it hadn’t been for that single first session with you, all would be well. But now? He’s too attracted to you.

He wants you so badly.

“If you tell me right now that you want me, in the same way you did on that call–” You stop yourself to really look at him. With the way he swallows, the way his lips slightly part, the way his hands show signs of eleven days worth of nervous habit cuticle picking. “If you do all of those things you said you’d do ‘if you were my boss’...”

“Wait, wait–” Sunghoon stands in a rush, causing you to jump slightly at the sudden sound echoing off of the walls in the office. “Do you understand the consequences of what you’re implying right now?”

“If I fuck my boss, we could both be fired?” You smile, feeling the confidence raise within you. Watching the way he reacts to your lewd words face to face rather than through a microphone.

“That would be…correct.” He raises a brow.

“Well, technically, you’ve already been fucking me.” You look away from him, feeling a bit shy even with the confidence, but never having spoken to a man so bluntly before like this? It’s a bit scary. “Would it really make anything worse if, you know, I do reciprocate?”

Goddamn. Sunghoon might be a bit smitten. This situation could have gone a thousand different ways, and you offer the one that includes your legs spread across this fucking desk and his face buried between them?

Oh. Never has he been so willingly turned on at work.

“Is this what you want?” He asks in a breath, shifting his eyes to the door and walking towards it, immediately reaching for the lock but not quite turning it.

“Is that what you want?” You counter, turning and staring at the lock.

Sunghoon hides his nod, wanting you to be the one to answer first. After all, hasn’t he been self-indulgent enough?

“Do you want me to fuck you?” He finally breaks and says it, blatantly, not sugar coated, yet still sweet when the words hit your ears. “After all this, you still want it?”

You nod, dipping your head a bit against your shoulder.

Click.

“I guess I should have known.” Sunghoon plays with his words now, hand dropping from the now locked door and eyes entirely on you. “Do you want me to fuck you, or would you prefer–”

“You.” You smile, feeling your skin prickle at the electricity that enters the room through breath and words alone. It’s the way he already shifted. Like all of that anxiety melted out of him within an instant.

“No, no.” He stalks towards you now, the nervous Sunghoon is no longer in sight as he makes himself seem bigger, taller, far more intimidating. Just like he was on camera. “The me you saw on screen is not the same as what you’re seeing right now.” He tries to explain.

“Oh?” You tilt your head, and he only finds that cute.

Far too cute.

“You’d do as I ask, right?” His voice shifts to a raspy whisper as he centers himself in front of you, both hands reaching the arms of your chair as he hovers above you. “I’m far more tame online.”

Tame?! That��s what he calls tame?!

You stare up at him, keeping your jaw from falling slack as you physically see him shift from being your boss into being a man with a need. Not just any need either. A need for you.

Part of you wonders if he ever truly felt bad in the first place about all of this, because the shift from just moments ago is so dramatic it’s almost scary.

“So, tell me.” He leans down, inches from your face as his eyes start to fall to a half-lidded stare at you. “You’ll do as I say? You’d let me do it all for you, and not ask me to stop until I feel it best, yes?”

You swallow and slowly nod. Oh god, it really, really, is him.

“And while at work, you’ll behave?” He continues, lips now ghosting over yours to the point you can almost feel them press down. He’s implying that if you don’t tell, that this won’t be the only time too? Shit. He’s entirely aware of why this shouldn’t be happening, but still making it happen.

“No matter what I do to you, where or how I do it, you’ll behave?”

You can’t help it when you lift your chin, just a bit to rest your lips against his words, eyes falling closed and hands hesitant to reach out for his perfectly ironed shirt.

You feel his smile against your lips, with that sharp-toothed grin he rarely offers.

“Ah, so it’s true.” He murmurs against you, his hand reaching for yours and guiding it for you, straight to his belt. “Dirty, dirty girl.”

A small, pleased, sound leaves your throat when he does kiss you, adding his own pleased hum alongside yours as his hands still hold yours in place over his belt, not quite letting you do anything just yet.

”Gonna be quiet–” He whispers into your mouth, just against your tongue before licking out and against it. “Even when I tell you to moan my name?”

You really shouldn’t be surprised, but you still are. You like this Sunghoon better than the one who stutters and picks his cuticles. He’s owning it, and in a way, so are you.

After all, it wasn’t until today that you truly learned what Sunghoon is like when he’s aroused. Not that you ever should have known in the first place. The fact that you do know, the fact that he’s showing you? It just makes this all the more arousing, in your opinion.

All he needed was a green light and within seconds it seems, Sunghoon became the need you’ve been chasing for months now through porn sites and erotic novels.

You nod to his words, trying to drop your hand just a bit to feel what you’ve already seen. Just to feel how warm he is, how—

“Is that so?” Sunghoon whispers in an amused tone, guiding your hand right back to his belt, only to drop his other hand straight between your legs. “You’re supposed to do as I say. If I tell you to moan my name, you do it.”

Oh, the sexual confusion of what to do and which Sunghoon to obey. All you can do is continue to nod for him, hanging your head with a breath at the way he cups his hand over the entirety of your core. You wore pants today in order to hide your shame, to try and feel invisible based on previous circumstances. You’re not so happy about that now, as you try to feel his touch through the thick fabric only to shamelessly thrust your hips up and against his palm.

He moves his lips to the top of your head now, hovering over you in a perfect stance of power, hand gently rubbing up and and down despite your hips asking for a harsher touch. If anything, it makes him feel better knowing how you react to this.

In actuality, his relief is sending his arousal through the roof. Not only are you not going to rat him out but…you want more of it? More of him, in particular? Not the facade of him online?

At this point, if he gets caught, you’re both going down in flames. So, why not enjoy the ride?

Truly, it’s laughable in the way he’s just as amused as he is turned on, relishing in the fact that he wants you and you’re letting him have you despite his past actions. You’re messy too, he’s seen it, and now he gets to feel it.

“Mhm,” Sunghoon hums against the top of your head, now pressing his own hips forward against your hand. “Feel that?”

The electricity? How hard he is? How needy you are?

”Yeah…” You sigh absentmindedly, bumping his chin with your head when you try to look up at him. You only blink twice before he coos out with a sad little sound.

He doesn’t say a word after as he removes his hand and instead, grabs both of your hands and places them on his shirt.

“Go on.” He smiles, waiting to see you to start fumbling against his buttons.

And fumble, you do. Touching him, for some reason, feels so dangerous. Knowing you’re the one removing his shirt, watching his skin be revealed as it begins to fall open by your own doing? It’s electrifying. Enough to lose your train of thought as you study how toned and smooth his skin is. Just like how you had seen on camera, so clear in front of you now. You’re aching for him by this point, being able to feel his body heat, touch him, feel his eyes on you.

If you had really known back then who it was you were talking to, you very well may have pretended to not know as well, judging by the way your entire body catches fire for him.

And as his shirt falls completely open, he’s satisfied with the way you do it. Complacent and docile beneath him, nervous fingers shaking much like he did for the past eleven days. With those pretty eyes looking at him, like there’s nothing in your head at all.

He chuckles at you, grabbing your hands again and placing them right on his chest, helping your hesitant touch to massage and caress each bump and toned muscle. He intentionally flexes the further down your hands go, all the way back to his belt.

There, he looks down at where you touch, then back at you with a quirked brow. You stare up at him, blinking, face feeling hot, and it’s like you move your hands on instinct. The sound of his buckle being unclasped echoes in the room, and his eyes only darken with the sound.

The sound of it slipping from the loops when he takes it upon himself to remove it completely for you, the sound of his breathing, the sound of that zipper, the button, the shuffling of his pants being skewed down just enough to fit your hand inside.

He moans at the image alone, loving the way your smaller hand looks slipping down his pants, the way your breathing is somehow even as if you’re trying to keep yourself calm. So calm, so pretty, but he knows how needy you are. He shouldn’t, but he does, and he uses it to his advantage.

You’re the one who moans this time upon feeling that little twitch of his cock urging you to grab. And he helps you too, with the way he guides your hand under the front of his pants further, forcing your fingers to grab and grope the thick of his cock, uncomfortable and pressing between his briefs and undone zipper.

“Still, you’re just looking.” Sunghoon comments, pressing his hips forward slowly and gently. “I’m right here.” He continues to explain the situation to you, as if you’re not experiencing it. “You need me to show you how to touch me too?”

You hesitate with a groan caught in your throat. You’re still processing the size difference that you feel now versus what you saw. Bigger. Thicker. Heavier than you would have expected against your palm. Honestly, you were so focused on the fact that Sunghoon’s cock is currently fucking forward against you that you almost forgot how to jerk a man off by yourself.

His hand had been doing all the work for you, and you’re quick to take over.

Sunghoon lends a very small gasp at the way you try to grasp, and instantly both of his arms shoot to the chair behind your head. He grips it, dropping his chin to the top of your head before thrusting a bit harsher into the grip you try to hold on him.

“Harder.” He exhales, his cock twitching in your weak hold. “Grab me harder.”

You do, squeezing the bulge before intentionally adjusting it for him, allowing the head of his bulbous cock to peek from the top of his briefs.

His relieved sigh is enough, you can’t help it. With his chin sat atop your head like this, you have no choice but to watch the way he moves his hips. Just like he did on camera. His abs flex with each movement, his arms grip behind you on the chair tighter, and you couldn’t pull your eyes away from his desperate body even if you wanted to.

You thrust up too, as if your body craves what you’re already touching. And you do crave it, so much so that your clit aches against the denim you’re rubbing up against. Unfortunate that you wore these fucking jeans, honestly.

“Mr. Park–” You let out a small and frustrated cry, using your other hand to try and fail at unbuttoning your own pants.

He hides his smile at the way you’ve reverted back to his professional title, but pays no mind to it because that’s what he wanted to hear in your voice that night. A desperate sound of his name, a plea, a cry. He can’t help but cling to it and bury that pretty voice into the darkest parts of his brain. A memory he’ll revisit time and time again after this. That sound, those pretty lips, this weak grasp you have. For the time being, it’s his. You belong to him right now.

“Hm?” He hums out, fucking his hips forward while tilting his head back to look at you. “What is it, baby?”

Oh. You lost your train of thought.

Thankfully, he seems to do the thinking for you as he shifts his eyes down and watches you try to both please him and remove your own pants. A cute sight to him, really. Someone who was just scolding him for wanting this, fumbling for more?

So cute.

He chuckles, pulling his hips back from your hand and grabbing it, unbothered by the loss of your touch. Instantly he intertwines his fingers with yours, and grasps your other hand from your pants to do the same. Both your arms raise by his guidance to the back of the chair before he releases them.

You watch with a slack jaw and half-lidded eyes as he lowers himself, right onto his knees before he unbuttons your pants for you and very politely pulls them from your legs.

“This what you want?” He smiles, lying his cheek right against your exposed thigh and taking a deep inhale. It’s taking everything in him not to fawn over the woman who had him in his thoughts for the past however long, truly.

Then again, he’s weak. He doesn’t even look up at you through his words and, instead, nuzzles his nose right up and against the seat of your panties before inhaling with a pleasant hum. “To have me finally touching this pretty pussy for you?”

God damn, if you didn’t already know it was him on that camera, you do now. He speaks the same type of words, with the same confidence, the same sultry tone…

You can barely comprehend the way he slowly takes his own pants off because you’re too focused on the way he runs his lips across your skin with dirty thoughts spilling from them. Fingers tucked under either side of your panties in preparation before he eventually pulls them off of you.

“Did you wear those pants to hide yourself from me?” He comments now with an amused tone. “Knowing you wanted me to take them off of you anyway?”

You shake your head at him, holding your breath. You did wear them to hide, but you never would have expected this situation to go in a direction involving his mouth anywhere near where you need it. Sure, you assumed he would have rejected you, you assumed that if it was him– he’d have been so disgusted with himself that he’d only gag at your presence.

But no. You were bold in your words, and he seems to feed into that.

“No?” He furrows his brows and lifts his head. Now lowering your panties much like he did for your pants. He’s quick with his next action, seemingly hiding his own desperation through playful comments at you. “Why not?” He adds, instantly pressing his thumb against your clit and fucking shining his eyes up at you with a semi-pouted mouth.

You roll your eyes back at the sudden pressure, relaxing your shoulders and slouching down in the chair. Your legs spread further on instinct, granting him a full view of your sticky cunt parting open for him.

His eyes glance down, peering into the heat you offered once before ever knowing it was him looking. Clicking his tongue, he can’t help but bite his lower lip to hold himself back. He hopes you don’t notice the way his hand finds its way to his own cock, he really, really hopes you don’t see him act so pathetic over this.

But you do. The moment your eyes roll back into place and get a look at him. One of his shoulders is moving, but the action is hidden by not only the chair, but his fucking face. He’s got his lips parted and he’s licking his lower lip. Slicking it up with his own saliva before–

“So quiet,” He hums with glistening lips, lending himself a light hold with his cock and pretending it’s you doing it for him. “You have nothing to say for yourself?” He adds now, inhaling once more the scent of your slick dripping for him as he leans in just a bit more.

“Oh–!” You yelp slightly at the feeling of his teeth digging into the flesh just to the side of your core. He bites down harder and harder, licking the flesh between his teeth before sucking hard against it. The sweat and scent of your full-day at work does nothing to calm his raging cock. He loves it and it only grows his appetite for you. Licking, sucking, nibbling at the skin until he’s sure he’ll leave a nice, painful swell to rub against your panties later. Only then does he release your skin from his still-tasting mouth.

The relief when he releases your thigh is short lived because he offers not even a full two seconds before you feel his mouth circle your clit. Like he can’t help himself, like he can’t tease you right now even if he wanted to.

A flick of his tongue sends a shiver down your spine straight to your toes and you can’t stop your legs from immediately wrapping around his head. You hear his muffled “mmf” when you do that, but he keeps you from apologizing for it because his free hand goes straight under your ass and scoots you even closer to his tongue.

And if you didn’t already think Sunghoon knew how to use that mouth for more than just being a professional business man, you do now. With the way that same tongue that used to taste the morning coffee you’d bring him now tastes you. Deeply.

He licks, flicks, and sucks every fold. Slurping up any dripping heat that slips out of you before pressing his tongue in and nuzzling his nose against your clit. He’s not quiet about it either. He moans with each lick, hums every time your legs squeeze around his neck, slurps and loudly sucks.

It’s pornographic, it’s sexy, it’s–

Suddenly, you feel a sharp jolt shoot through you, having not even noticed his hand moving from your ass to your front, moving straight up under your shirt. His fingers immediately find your nipple and pinches hard. So hard that your previous moan only becomes prolonged. Grows louder, breathier.

He pinches and massages your nipple with the intent to keep you loud for him. Office setting or not, he could give less of a shit about that right now. He ignores the strain on his wrist from your bra, he uses his other hand to grip himself harder, and you can’t help but squeeze him tighter between your thighs until you’re, quite literally, shaking.

Your hips are sliding against his face with each jolt of pleasure, practically riding him, and his cock is now entirely neglected because you can’t help but want more. You need more. And he gives it, by now releasing himself and keeping both hands on you. One holding the outside of your thigh, almost pushing you to squeeze tighter, the other incessantly abusing your nipple.

He chokes out a moan through his messy movements, never quite knowing where to put his hands solely because he wants to touch all of you. His cock is just fine being neglected, he thinks, as he realizes just how much pleasure he gets from feeling you wrap yourself around him like this.

It feels better than jerking himself off.

“Mr. P–” You sigh out, still not quite used to actually calling him his name, but the sound of it reminds you time and time again how wrong this situation is supposed to be.

You’re sitting on this soft chair, pussy being spread apart by a tongue none other than the man who signs your paychecks. And just this morning you were terrified of him ever even getting a glimpse of you without pants on? God, how stupid could you be? You should’ve been chasing this man’s touch since the day you looked at him for the first time.

“Fuck–” You moan out for him, brain spitting thoughts at you as each second passes. The danger of this, the fact that he genuinely got off to you before you knew it was him. The secrecy of his perverted thoughts and actions…it’s all so… “So, you’re so – hot.”

You feel him laugh, kissing the pulsing hole of your pussy when he pulls his tongue back to swallow. And for just a few moments, he turns his head, gripping your thigh with his teeth once again before speaking back to you, muffled by the hot skin.

“Yeah?” He laughs, now pulling his hand from your bra and lifting to your chin, pointing your gaze down at him, forcing you to see the way your thighs nearly suffocate him against your pussy. “Then keep your eyes on me.”

And you do, especially when he uses both of his hands now, nudging them between your legs and forcing them from his shoulders. He rests your legs on the arms of the chair instead and flicks his eyes up at you.

“You watching?” He makes this a point, blowing a small breath of air straight at your clit before receiving a dazed and slow nod from you. “Keep your legs open too.”

That’s the last thing he says before his mouth is full again, sucking your folds between his teeth before tucking his tongue right back into your hole. He tastes for just a few moments before you feel those same lips on your clit. He lets it throb in his open mouth as he listens carefully to your little sounds, especially now that he’s sliding his fingers into you.

You gasp, holding your breath at the feeling. His fingers slide in, reaching deep before he scissors them open. And all you feel from it is pleasure. You can’t help that your eyes roll back again, but you do try to keep your gaze fixed on his. With his eyes so rounded, blinking up at you with his strong jaw moving with each swallow of his own muffled moans.

He sucks your clit, fucks your cunt open, and relishes in the way he will soon get to splay you across his desk and really let you have it.

And he does this for a few minutes, though in your head it goes by so fast that you nearly get whiplash from the way he pulls back with a wet sound and grins at you.

“Aw, baby–” He coos at the face you make, seemingly disappointed to lose all stimulation at once, but he’s quick to lift to his feet and lean back over you.

Oh, his cock. It’s right there.

Oh.

His face–

“You’re so fucking wet right now.” He murmurs against the corner of your mouth with a raspy whisper, easily and without warning slipping two of his fingers right back into the heat that he just denied himself of licking more. “You hear that?” He continues with a sharp toothed bite to your lip. “How wet you are?”

You groan at the way he slams his fingers in, out, in, out, in…He keeps them there, pressed so far into you that you can physically feel the way your pussy tries to push him out again.

“Could slip it in right now–” He moans out at how tight you clench just his fingers. “Fuck, could be so deep in you.”

Your face feels hot as a bashful feeling overtakes you. His voice hits so much harder when you feel his breath along with it. His fingers, his cock right up against you. You want him to slip it in. To stuff his cock in you so fast, no room to adjust, not a second to even catch your breath.

God, you need it right now. It’s been too long since you’ve felt a real person touch you, you can’t help that you feel so desperate. The clench isn’t on purpose, your body tells him all he needs to know, all while he tells you all you could only wish to hear fall from someone’s lips.

And not just anyone. His lips.

You shoot your arms around his neck and it's not really intentional but– an actual kiss. You need it.

He seems pleased by it though, with the way his tongue immediately asks for more. One hand moves to brace your cheek, the other still fucking into you so good that you can’t keep a single moan down. He takes full control of the initiated kiss solely because you kissed him first. Almost hungrily, he licks into your mouth with his own muffled groan, encouraging you to keep being pretty like this. Just so you can see what he’ll do to you.

And, damn. He guides your body like a puppet, stiffening his shoulders when he licks into your mouth and threatening to pull away by raising himself up just a bit. He knew you’d chase the kiss, and you do. You lift with him, your ass lifting from the chair just to keep his tongue against yours, and he takes the elevated position and angles his hand just a bit. There, his fingers fuck into you harder, faster, so much fucking deeper until– you feel his fingers stop at a painfully deep spot inside of you.

He pulls back from the kiss, looking down between your bodies, and your eyes follow his gaze. Right there, he’s placed his knee up against his own wrist, forcing his fingers to remain deep and unmoving in you.

You take in a sharp inhale, seeing the way he lets your body fall back to the seat of the chair, only forcing him to skew his fingers and– “Oh, god!”

You moan out so suddenly that it even shocks him for a moment, but he takes your weakness and uses it to his advantage. Quickly, he licks into your moaning mouth, tickling his fingers upwards, pulling even more animalistic sounds from you.

“Yeah?” He whispers frantically, so turned on by the way your entire body stiffens. “Right there?” He continues, leaning his full body weight forward with his knee, wincing at the way he presses his cock against anything he can find in the process, just to get you off right here, right now.

You nod just as frantically, toes curling, arms shooting to the chair in a form that should appear as discomfort, but really you’re just bracing yourself through the tensing of your muscles before all of them relax and pulse at once.

Your ears pop, but you can still hear your desperate cries of his name somewhere distant. You can even hear him, humming and encouraging your orgasm. You wish you could hold your eyes open to see him, to grab him and force him to fuck his fingers hard into you. God, you could take it right now. You could take just about anything to heighten this feeling of stars bursting behind your eyelids.

Somehow though, it’s like he knows. Half-way through your orgasm, you feel the weight between your legs shift and his fingers start moving again. Still, your eyes are squeezed shut, and you can't help but to lunge forward and hug against his neck, clinging to him through the prolonged orgasm that his fingers alone have brought to you.

“Squeezing me so tight–” Sunghoon groans, unsure of if he’s referring to the way your needy cunt crowds his fingers, or the way you cling to him like a lost pet, begging for him to never leave your sight. “Fuck, you’re so pretty like this.”

You hear those words over any of his others. So clear in your head as you snap your head up and look at him. You see him lower his gaze, but your grip doesn’t quite allow him to actually look down at you. Not when he has to physically hold you up anyway. Still, he looks amused up there, knowing that single compliment must’ve hit somewhere inside of you.

You’re not sure why, through all this, Sunghoon calling you pretty makes it so much more intimate. And even as your legs continue to shake, and you release your death grip hug on him, he keeps himself crowded up to you. He’s somehow out of breath just like you are, relishing in the calm silence of your post orgasm as he…Jesus.

It’s not just your imagination. Somehow, it is intimate. It’s the way he pulls his fingers out and both hands shoot to your face. First, he kisses you as if you’re a long lost love. Deeply, slowly. Then, he’s putting one hand at the small of your back, nudging his knee right back between your legs, and pulling you right up against him.

“Who did you cum for?” Sunghoon asks, pulling back just to lick against your lips and stare directly down at you. “Say my name.”

You don’t hesitate, echoing out with a winced expression, still so out of breath while rubbing your clit to the expanse of his thigh.

“Su-Sunghoo-Sunghoon-”

“Yeah?” He encourages you, hearing his name heat his ears up. He moves his pussy-slicked fingers to your mouth while you cry his name, and easily presses your tongue down with them, sliding the digits further and further down your throat. “Sunghoon.” He says his own name. “Say it again.”

You gag around his fingers, unable to obey his demand.

“Sung–” He inspects the way your tongue struggles against the intrusion in your mouth. “Hoon.”

You swallow around them now, sputtering, tears now running down the outer apples of your cheeks. He watches you do it too, wondering how good that would feel if it were his cock you’re swallowing around. Knowing you’d probably do it for him if he wanted to right now.

But…he needs more than that. Despite how delicious you look while gagging, his cock has been neglected and he needs to fuck out the stress from the past however long you’ve been avoiding him. It’s like his brain breaks with the action as he watches you take his fingers in whatever way he offers. You let him do whatever he wants. You’re obeying.

“Up.” He suddenly says, pulling all physical contact with you away as he turns, steps out of the pants restricting his ankles, and swipes every pen, file, and picture frame off his desk. “Come here, baby.”

You feel like you’re melted to this chair right now, in all honesty. You’re still trying to catch your breath just from touching his cock before he decided to make you see fucking stars, to think you can stand right now is insane.

So, when you don’t immediately hop up and throw yourself onto his desk, he turns to look at you.

You’re splayed out, legs still spread, toes still curled. Your chest is heaving to breathe, eyes wild and lips so fucking kissable.

“Oh, fuck.” He sighs to himself in realization, relishing in the image of you he’s only recently been craving. “Look at you.”

You lift your arm to hide your face, feeling apologetic for the way you’ve lost the ability to exist as an active participant right now. Even more apologetic when you glance down at how fucking hard his cock is. Raging hard, so pretty with the tip sputtering precum for god knows how long.

He watches you stare, and lends you a few moments to catch your breath by gripping it himself. Leaning himself against his desk and twisting his wrist with a tight grip at the base.

“Is this how you looked at me when I did this before?” He asks, flicking his wrist still with each drag. “So out of it, you look like such a mess, babe.”

You find yourself humming a confirmation to him as you watch, almost reverting back to who you were during that first session. Unseen, only heard, all while you got to see him pleasure himself to almost nothing. You gave him nothing.

You’ve still only given him nothing.

And so, very slowly, you force yourself to stand on shaking legs to take those two strides to his desk. Something inside of you tingles when he drops his cock and opens his arms for you, like a good boss would do in this situation. Supporting your unbalanced weight, letting you walk into his comforting grasp.

“Said my name so pretty, you know.” He comments gently when he holds you close to him. Hands reaching down from the grip around your waist just to grab both of your fleshy ass checks and squeeze them. “You want more, yes?”

He’s quick to the point, only allowing the short and sweet moments to last just enough for them to stick in your head. Just enough to have questions about his actions. Just enough to give him anything, everything, he could want if it involves your body.

You nod almost shyly, dipping your head down and leaning against his chest.

“Let's get this off of you then.” He smiles with a gentle voice, reaching to the hem of your shirt and pulling it straight up, watching how you lift your arms to help him. “Mhm–” He hums again, loving how the bra drags off of you along with the shirt. He lets both of his hands brush your nipples before he goes back to gripping your ass cheeks and spreading them.

Spreading them so wide that, once again, you have to lift on your toes just to let him play with your body. Which, oh man. Always wearing his button down shirts, his blazers, his long-sleeve shirts. You can’t help it when you tug at the opened fabric of his shirt, asking silently that he shake it off. Wanting to see his arms, wanting to see the strength in them.

And he does it without hesitation, letting his hands fall from you just for a moment to shake his shirt off, only now hugging against you again and forcing a position change. He turns both of you so now you’re up against his desk, and he’s standing in front of you.

It’s easy for him to push you back in a kiss. Your legs open for him on instinct anyway, so he need not worry about prying those legs open again. You do just as expected when he pushes you too. Your ass hits the desk and you lift on your toes to sit on it. Your legs spread wider, making room for him to step even closer, cock right up against you when he closes any amount of distance, and still? He’s kissing you.

All across your face, down your neck, back to your lips. And his hands just keep feeling. Massaging your tits, lending small taps to your ass, holding your chin, jaw, neck, and then…he runs them through your hair.

The feeling is so good you almost forget how you’ve been trying to steal a glimpse of his flexing arms as he grabs at you. Goosebumps prickle and you let out a groan at the pleasure of it. He keeps one hand there now, smiling against his kiss to your ear.

“You like being pampered?” He asks, now gripping a fist full of your hair and skewing your neck to the side. “Like being moved around like a puppet?”

Never once have you thought about your sex life that way, but when you think about it…maybe. After all, you did enjoy being told when and how to touch yourself, being allowed or forbidden from cumming. Now, with him quite literally moving you around with just a simple grip of your hair? Yeah.

“By you–” You mutter out as you open your eyes, staring at the ceiling and feeling his tongue lap against your earlobe.

“Just me?” He leans back, using that same grip in your hair to force you to look at him. “You’d give me that power?”

You nod against the grasp, lips falling open in a moan despite not being pleasured by anything aside from the stinging against your scalp as he pulls little hairs a bit too tightly.

“You know–” Sunghoon starts now, pressing his hips forward, dropping his other hand to his cock and slapping it right against your weeping cunt. “If I had known you were this dirty...”He sighs out at the image in his head, thinking back to all those times he silently complimented you in his head. Back then, never would he have made comments about your legs out loud, or how your tits would look in certain shirts. Thinking back now, he’s always found you quite beautiful.

Quite fuckable, even.

You listen to the silence waiting for him to continue, feeling the way he presses the hardened head of his length against your clit repeatedly.

“I would have propped you up on this desk months ago,” He smiles now, leaning in real close to your ear as his grip in your hair loosens just a bit. “Could’ve had you moaning my name this whole time.”

Then, you feel it. The way he adjusts his weeping cock lower, prodding at your hole just a bit until his tip is entirely enveloped by your clenching walls.

You swallow a moan and hold your breath, legs shooting around his waist and instinctively trying to force his hips to move forward, trying to force him to penetrate you deeper.

“Shh,” He coos out, holding his hips firm and not letting you control his movements. Then, he kisses just under your ear before peppering them all the way back to your lips. He doesn’t kiss you though, no, he chuckles at you for trying. Watching you let your tongue fall from your mouth, inspecting the way you’re entirely in tune for him right now. “You really want it, don’t you?” He whispers just above your lips. “Want me to fuck you right here, right now?”

You nod absentmindedly, legs still trying to force him to move, arms clinging under his biceps, head still forced into whatever position he keeps it in by the hair.

“Please–Sunghoon.” You cry in a small voice, feeling as if you’re going insane by the feeling of his tip sitting comfortably in you.

“You’re so cute.” He smiles, lending you another inch of his length before letting his hand fall from your hair. There, he grips your waist instead, letting a strained grunt fall from his own lips this time. He’s really trying to remain collected about this, and he’s unsure himself why he’s enjoying the act of teasing you like this. He feels like he’s teasing himself more than you right now, seeing as how it’s taking everything in him not to stuff his cock into you hard and fast. “So–so, fucking cute.”

You clench around the few inches in you and it appears that’s all he needed to break entirely. Is he controlling you, or are you controlling him?

Honestly, who gives a fuck?

You feel his arms shake when he plants them at either side of you, pointing his cock straight into you and sliding in fully. There’s a groan from him that you want to hear so badly, but your own heart beat is thumping in your ears so loudly that you miss half of it.

The stretch is delicious, and the fact that it’s Sunghoon doing this to you makes this all the more enjoyable. The man who you’ve seen day after day, now holding himself up on the desk you’ve signed papers on with and for him? All so he can angle his hips and shove his cock in? Just to let his arms frantically wrap around your waist? Just so he can scoot you forward on this desk, using your leaking slick to slide you back and forth in time with his hips?

That groan you wanted to hear? He hasn’t stopped. He’s essentially, controlling the entire situation and when you half open your eyes to witness his face, you’re forced to roll your eyes back in a moan matching his.

He’s fucking you so deeply right now that all you can do is moan, all you can do is forget the embarrassment, the victimization, the way he’s doing this to you despite the risk of reality crumbling. He could lose his job, you could lose yours, and yet still– he’s fucking you like he doesn’t care.

So, you choose not to care either in the form of grabbing his hair, forcing his head back, and attaching your lips right against his adams apple. You feel him swallow and breathe out a shocked sound, and then? You suck.

Intentionally, you suck, bite, and lick, harder and harder until there’s a deep purple mark there. He doesn’t even fight it, though you feel him try to move his head just to keep you from going too insane with it. You don’t care though, because still you feel his cock splitting you open, forcing you to adjust to him.

“Ah,” Sunghoon lets out another breath with that familiar chuckle, “Marking me now?”

You hum a confirmation as you move to a new spot on his neck, absolutely fucking marking him. Feeling devastated by the idea that he’d do this with any other employee. Or any other person in general.

“Making me all yours, huh?” He continues with his cocky words, feeling the way your pussy clenches him tightly, dripping all over his desk. He’d let you make him yours, with or without the bruising from your mouth.

“Mhm.” You hum pleasantly, letting out little yelps each time he slams into you. Letting out full moans each time his arms wrap around your waist tighter.

You continue with the act, littering his pretty neck with your touch and loving how he just lets you. Knowing that he’ll show up at work tomorrow looking a bit tired, but glowing nonetheless, trying to hide all these marks with that tight-necked collar he likes to wear.

“Whatever you want.” He breathes, letting his hips lose rhythm for just a moment as he feels his muscles tighten. “Fuck, you’re still so tight.”

You feel like you’re on top of the world as he compliments you, to the point you’re not sure when you’ll cum because your whole body has seemingly been feeling euphoria anyway. Everything feels good, even if his cock reaches deep enough to cause little jolts of pain. The sound of the desk scooting back through the force of his hips is enough to make you take it. Enough to squeeze your legs around him tighter, enough to clench, enough to– forget what you’re doing and let yourself fall into it with him.

Your head falls back from his neck and you pant out little half-calls of his name with each thrust. Your legs loosen from around him too, but his grip on your waist only pushes you back on his desk. Until he’s leaning forward so hard with each thrust that suddenly your back meets the cold wood.

Sandwiched between him and his desk, he follows the action, his hands quickly moving from your waist to your tits, pushing them together just so he can nuzzle his face between them.

There, you look at him. You really look at him.

What a messy, messy, man. Always so pristine during working hours, now looking so wrecked and out of it as he chases a pleasure that you hope only you can give to him.

“Mr. Park–” You sigh out in a pleasant voice, watching the way he sucks your tit into his mouth before his eyes open wide just so he can look up at you through each thrust. “Harder.”

You can physically see the way his eyes darken when he pops off from your tit, hands now going back to the desk as he hovers over you and intentionally rolls his hips.

You feel his cock loosen you up painfully before he intentionally fucks into you. Dragging all the way out, just to push forward in a deep and painful thrust. Over and over again, all while he’s staring straight into your eyes.

As you look up at him, you see the intent in his face. The way he wants to give you exactly what you want. Sweat shining from his cheeks, his neck littered with pretty colors. Oh, he’s actually heavenly when he fucks.

Better than what you thought that guy on camera would have been. He’s not nonchalant like he was when he was performing. He’s entirely in tune with you and what you want. Like what you want is what he wants.

You can tell he’s paying no mind to his own face or expression, blatantly putting all of his thoughts into how he’s pleasuring you, his eyes searching your face to tell him he’s doing well. To tell him you feel good, to tell him you’re close or–

“Fuck–” He sighs out, teeth tracing his bottom lip as he glances up, keeping pace with the way he’s been plunging into you. “I can’t keep looking at you,”

You smile, feeling dazed and far away. It feels like it’s just you and him. You’re not in his office, on a desk, or doing anything you shouldn’t be doing.

“You hear me?” He drops his body weight on you again, letting his hips move freely as he chases and chases. “I’m so close.”

Oh.

“Then look at me.” You huff out, now shooting a hand between his flexed abs and simply…touching your clit once.

“Oh–shit.”

It hits you so fast. Just a simple touch causes your pussy to clench Sunghoon so tightly that he mimics your sound.

“Ah, fuck- fuck,” His voice sounds frantic as he tries to pull out, only to feel your legs shoot back around him. This time, he lets you force him to stay. He lets those legs of yours push him back in, so deep that he knows he can’t fight. “No, no–” He chokes out, uncaring if his hips show you that he’s lying with his words. “I’m cumming– I need to–”

“Stay!” You shake beneath him but your voice sounds pleading, pressing once more to your clit before letting it go. You clench him again, essentially letting your body finish him off. Letting those clenches squeeze him so tightly, making sure he couldn’t fathom ever wasting his cum. “Don’t pull out.”

He doesn’t. In fact, he presses impossibly deeper, trying to bury his cock into you to the point it even pains him. Arms shaking as he tries to hold himself up again, only to drop his lips to yours under his own weight. His hips are so tense between your legs, his cock is so stiff that you can feel each pumped release, and still you’re experiencing your own euphoria through it.

To the point your toes are curling and you barely notice the way you leave welts across his back from your fingernails through the intense orgasm. To the point his slack lips against yours feel more natural than anything else. Not kissing, just close. So close that–

He kisses you.

After it’s all said and done, he still kisses you breathlessly. Passionately almost, clinging to you as his cock twitches as it grows flaccid inside of you.

He doesn’t pull out, he just…kisses.

And as you lay against his wooden desk, body coming down from the pleasure you’ve felt more than once within the past hour, all you can do is let your brain think on its own. Without shame, without embarrassment or anxiety.

You thought Sunghoon would have been in control the whole time. Teasing you, maybe even making this experience more painful than it needs to be. But no, he…

He’s soft. Gentle, almost.

Only now do you recognize that as badly as he probably wants to appear harsh, like the confident man he is on camera, you think he needs something else. Not just power, not just money or control. Not even just fucking.

You think…maybe, Sunghoon needs connection.

Intimacy.

And that’s proven when he does finally stand on his own buckled knees, pulling you up with him into a hug where he still kisses you. Up until he takes that shirt you unbuttoned and holds it between your legs, scratching the back of his neck with a shy glance at you.

“Sorry for the mess.” He echoes in a meek voice, holding that shirt firm against you. “Guess I just couldn’t help myself.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Days later, you find yourself in his bed. Which should have been expected probably. Still doesn’t change the fact that every few hours, you remind yourself the reality of the situation.

It’s not just any bed you’re in. It’s Sunghoon’s bed.

“Oh, right. The promotion.” Sunghoon suddenly calls out mid-episode.

You’ve been here with him all day. To the point neither of you bother to put on clothes now because you know the spark will come back at any given time and you’ll be all over each other again. Still, lazing in his bed with him on a Saturday afternoon is nice.

“I’ve been a bit occupied but– the interviews for the assistant position has been pushed back a bit due to you not coming to work. I was supposed to notify you when you got back, but you know, we had priorities–”

Sunghoon sighs, embarrassed. It’s nice actually, seeing him in his natural element. Allowing you to see him as more than just the guy that wears a suit and tie every day at work.

“Unrelated to us…doing this, but, you’re up for the interview. Just need to schedule it with me. If you still want to be my assistant, I mean.”

“Oh, I can only imagine what that could entail.”

Sunghoon seems offended by this remark as he pulls back with furrowed brows.

“Excuse me?”

“Did you fuck the last one too?” You give him a playful smile, prodding at his soft-skinned chest.

“Absolutely not?!”

“You’re still gonna fuck me too though, right? Even if I’m constantly having to nag you for signatures and meetings?”

Sunghoon stares at you before smiling.

“Well, let's see if you get the job anyway. Rhonda from Marketing is applying too.”

You lend a half-joke gag at him.

“Is it too forward to ask for special attention for the position along with a sexual favor?” You tread the thin line. “I’m half joking but wouldn’t it be like…normal for us to be seen around each other at work if I’m working a job that requires it?”

Sunghoon thinks hard.

“You’re really asking to fuck your way up the ladder?”

“Aren’t you the one who offered it so I wouldn’t tell your dirty little secret?” You narrow your eyes at him. “But no, I’m asking for the job I’ve been trying to earn for ages. Besides, I’d still fuck you anyway.”

“Fair.” Sunghoon thinks harder still. “Rhonda would probably find out too, if she were to get the position anyway, considering my assistants are often intertwined in my personal business as well.”

“Oh, I’m personal business now?”

“Babe, my hand has been on your tit for an hour now.”

Well, he’s not wrong.

“Rhonda is really close with HR too…” You trail off, feeling a bit anxious. “I think she’d hold it over both of us if she found out.”

“In all fairness, you’ve been considered for the job more than a few times the past few months. Rhonda only applied during your two week avoidance of me. The reason she’s even up for the position is because my boss thinks you’re too flaky.”

Oh, so you have a chance with or without putting his dick in your mouth again?

“Who else has applied?”

“Confidential.” Sunghoon shrugs. “I still have to follow company rules even if we’re breaking a few of them right now. What I can tell you is, over fifteen other candidates have already been phased out by me personally.”

You pause.

“Why?”

“Bad matches, mostly. Two of them have been caught talking shit about me through the company emails, and the others? Many outside applicants, all freshman college students with strict schedules.”

“Being my assistant is not an easy job, and even before all of this, you’ve practically been doing the job already, better than the current assistant I have.”

You damn fucking right you have.

“How many are still in the running?”

“Two.”

Oh, this job is soooooo yours.

“Just, one more thing.” Sunghoon sighs. “If you get this job, we cannot be fucking in my office. No sexual stuff at work. We can take lunch together, or I’ll bring you home after work, but absolutely nothing at work.”

Oh, he thinks you want him that badly?

“Who says I need to fuck you during work hours anyway? I know how to control myself.”

“It’s not you who I’m worried about.” Sunghoon looks away, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Yeah?” You smile. “You gonna be calling me into your office just to torture yourself?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

pls remember to leave feedback and reblog! :D love you!

#enhypen smut #park sunghoon smut #sunghoon smut #enha smut

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rainydayathogwarts · 9 months ago

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ɢᴏʟᴅᴇɴ ᴛʀɪᴏ ᴇʀᴀ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

ˋ°•*⁀➷ navigation

꩜ smut ❀ fluff 𖤓 angsty/angry 𖤐 funny

ʀᴏɴ ᴡᴇᴀꜱʟᴇʏ

✩ jealous, jealous, jealous girl - ron notices you upping the PDA when Lavender starts flirting with him and you decide to show her who he belongs to (꩜𖤓)

✩ popular!shy!reader - ron’s friends think you were the one who made the move but are shocked to find out the opposite (❀𖤐)

✩ the dream - ron has a dirty dream and wakes up hard next to reader (꩜𖤐)

✩ needy - needy!ron misses you because you've been taking NEWTs too seriously but he finds the perfect moment to drag you into an empty classroom (꩜)

✩ overstimulation with dom!Ron (꩜)

✩ goodbye kisses that last longer than intended (❀𖤓𖤐)

✩ opposite teams - You play a Quidditch match against your boyfriend, who's a very sore loser (❀꩜𖤓)

✩ glossy lips - Wiping off lip gloss from his lips after a kiss (❀𖤐)

✩ late to class - Ron doesn't want you to leave to class so soon and manages a convincing excuse for you to stay (꩜)

✩ unsteady desk chair - When ron's been locked in his dorm trying to finish an essay all afternoon, you decide to help motivate him a little (꩜)

✩ shameless - Ron and his gf are absolutely shameless about pda, even with their friends around. They face some friendly consequences (𖤐)

✩ the chosen one - Ron has lived in the chosen one's shadow since they became best friends, so when he gets the one thing Harry wants, he decides to never let go (𖤓)

✩ sewing kit - "The instant Ron came to you asking for help sewing a rip in his t-shirt, Molly knew you were the woman he was going to marry." (❀)

✩ i think i've seen this film before - when sirius found out that bellatrix lestrange was having a daughter, he did everything in his power to protect her. he never met her until one day she showed up at his doorstep the same way he had at the potters. but what he didn't know was that she was dating a boy who was under this very roof. (❀𖤓)

✩ buy you a drink - when ron unexpectedly meets the girl of his dreams through a one night stand, he rushes to tell his friends the next day. but unfortunately, that reveals some new information about you, the apparent love of his life. (❀꩜)

Ron won't stop complaining about Seamus and his girlfriend taking up the dorm until he's the one with a girl in there. coming soon...

ʜᴀʀʀʏ ᴘᴏᴛᴛᴇʀ

concussions and interruptions au wolfstar!daughter au

✩ Harry's bi awakening (𖤐)

✩ "you knew?" "you didn't?" - In which the twins only just find out their sister is dating Harry (𖤐)

✩ me and you - You keep telling Ron to just 'ask her out' but he won't take your word seriously until you take your own advice. Somehow, you both end up with dates... (❀𖤐)

✩ long kisses, risky places - When kissing in the library leads to something more... (❀𖤐)

✩ love, mum and dad - Harry gets the memory book you and James made for him to open on his 17th birthday, but he gets it a little sooner, and discovers things about the family he could have had (𖤓)

✩ more than anything - keeping your relationship a secret is difficult when you just can't stop staring at your boyfriend (❀𖤓)

✩ what boyfriend? - when you are bed ridden due to your period, Madame Pomfrey comes to check in on you and play match-maker (❀𖤐)

✩ summer lovin' - you decide to visit harry over the summer, playing the classic 'girl next door' so harry's uncle lets you in (❀)

✩ a job for a godparent - harry knows you're the love of his life, but he just needs to know that you want kids as much as he does. a day at his house over the summer confirms it. (❀)

✩ a motherly visit - when harry sends you another owl claiming that professor snape has it out for him, you decide to pay them a short visit (❀𖤐)

✩ second time's the charm - when you're bitten by greyback again during the battle of the astronomy tower, you find yourself with new company (❀𖤓)

✩ always the prefects bathroom - despite harry potter's presence in the prefects bathroom, you aren't stopped from taking a soothing bath (❀𖤐)

ɴᴇᴠɪʟʟᴇ ʟᴏɴɢʙᴏᴛᴛᴏᴍ

✩ snake ring - In which the twins pull you into a game of seven minutes in heaven. (❀𖤐)

✩ dry-humping Neville at a party (❀꩜)

✩ kiss and tell - In which a very aware y/n of Neville's crush on her gets the courage to make a move (❀𖤐)

✩ stolen glances - Stealing glances at each other across the room until your friends notice (꩜𖤐)

✩ strangers to friends - Neville, terrified of a scary, confident slytherin, finds out that she's more welcoming than some of his own friends... An unlikely friendship develops (❀)

✩ grim greenhouses - when you defend neville against your cousin, he is convinced he has to give you a little gift as a thank you. but what happens when you decide to thank him for his gift? (❀꩜)

✩ creepy crawlers - your usually calm and composed front breaks in herbology, but neville comes to the rescue (❀)

ɢᴇᴏʀɢᴇ ᴡᴇᴀꜱʟᴇʏ

✩ into the woods - Waking George up to go out for a morning walk at the Burrow has him feeling quite frisky (❀꩜)

✩ in this together - When you find out that your mother, Bellatrix Lestrange has escaped Azkaban, you have a crisis, thankfully short lived due to your boyfriend's care for the situation (❀𖤓)

✩ dear diary - Ron can't help his crush on his older brother's girlfriend, and catches himself in some inconvenient situations (꩜𖤐)

✩ bloody quills and teary eyes - George comforts you after your first detention with Umbridge (❀𖤓)

✩ god, i missed you so much - when you and george have spent the last few months doing long-distance, with you at hogwarts while he runs the shop, the reunion is bound to be good (❀𖤓)

✩ reasonless hatred - severus snape's daughter causes him nothing but chaos, hatred where love should be in their relationship. but she is finally given a real reason to hate her father, and she decides to give him one to hate her too (❀𖤓)

ᴏʟɪᴠᴇʀ ᴡᴏᴏᴅ

✩ I already won - even though he very much lost the game, he still won you (❀𖤓)

✩ how he reacts when you tell him you're in the mood (꩜)

✩ blood, dirt and reunions - You almost die and reunite with an old ex-boyfriend... or not (❀𖤓)

ꜱᴇᴀᴍᴜꜱ ꜰɪɴɴᴇɢᴀɴ

✩ tipsy - Seamus takes care of you when you're drunk (❀𖤐)

✩ safe in his arms - Brother!Harry Potter makes Seamus promise him to keep you safe because of how obvious your feelings are for each other (❀𖤓)

ᴄʜᴀʀʟɪᴇ ᴡᴇᴀꜱʟᴇʏ

✩ guilt trip - Charlie tries to guilt trip the reader to visit his family with him (❀𖤓)

✩ bloody introductions - When some of Charlie's siblings break in to his apartment to surprise him, they find out about his roommate/girlfriend (❀𖤐)

ᴘᴇʀᴄʏ ᴡᴇᴀꜱʟᴇʏ

✩ just a swim - Percy's partner tries to get him to break a couple of rules (❀𖤐)

✩ how they react when you're in the mood (꩜)

'For the first time in his life, Percy pushes academics aside to focus on a girl, but his family doesn't know and thinks he has gone down a dark road.' coming soon...

ꜰʀᴇᴅ ᴡᴇᴀꜱʟᴇʏ

✩ before you go - fred weasley has relentlessly asked you out for years, but you’ve never given the younger boy a chance. not until sixth year, when he makes the compelling argument that if the date goes terribly, at least it’ll be the last year you’ll ever see him at hogwarts. (❀꩜)

✩ ready for bed - ready for bed, you didn't bother to cover your hickeys, because you had nowhere to be, right? (𖤐)

ʙɪʟʟ ᴡᴇᴀꜱʟᴇʏ

✩ "malfoy" "weasley" - when you watch the quidditch world cup with your family, the last thing you're expecting is to see an old friend. a weasley. (❀𖤐)

ᴄᴇᴅʀɪᴄ ᴅɪɢɢᴏʀʏ

✩ no disturbances - You and Cedric make such a cute couple that teachers have turned a blind eye to several accounts of PDA (❀𖤐)

ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ ᴋʀᴜᴍ

✩ what's her face - Rita skeeter being annoying (𖤐)

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ

✩ someone finds out you're dating

✩ he gets turned on at the wrong time

✩ she gets turned on at the wrong time

#ron weasley smut #ron wealsey #harry potter #harry potter fanfic #neville longbottom x reader #neville x reader #cedric diggory #george weasley #viktor krum #charlie weasley #percy weasley #seamus finnegan x reader #seamus finnigan #oliver wood smut #oliver wood x reader #rainydayathogwarts #masterlist #rainydayathogwarts masterlists

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mapis-putellas · 20 days ago

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𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒘 // 𝑨.𝑩𝒐𝒏𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒊

You’d done plenty of interviews before -solo, with the team, with Aitana. You were used to the usual fluff questions, the occasional awkward silence, the endless smiling. But this guy? From the moment he introduced himself, something about him made your skin itch.

It wasn’t just his overly enthusiastic smile, or how he looked at Aitana like she was some kind of rare exhibit. It was the way he spoke -slow, exaggerated, like he was addressing a toddler. Every time he directed a question to Aitana, he’d dumb it down. Repeating words. Raising his eyebrows expectantly like she was supposed to clap for understanding him.

“And what is it like, Aitana,” he said slowly, leaning forward with a patronising smile, “to play football in a foreign country, where people speak a different language? I’m going to assume it’s not the same as playing here, at Barça.”

You bit the inside of your cheek.

Aitana, bless her, smiled politely, not seeming to catch on. “Uh… is hard, sometimes,” she said carefully. “But I have… help. From my girlfriend,” she looked over at you with a shy little smile that made your heart ache, “and the team.”

The interviewer nodded like he’d just watched a dog do a backflip.

“Very good!” he said, clapping his hands once. “That’s very good, Aitana.”

Your jaw tightened, and you reached for her hand under the table, giving it a gentle squeeze. She squeezed back, still smiling.

He turned to you then, beaming. “It must be a challenge for you too, right? Helping someone navigate English when they’re not a native speaker?”

You returned the smile, all saccharine and sharp. “Oh, absolutely. I mean, it’s almost as difficult as trying to understand some of the posh nonsense English journalists say. But we manage.”

His smile faltered slightly.

You pressed on. “She’s doing brilliantly, though. The progress she’s made since we started dating is huge. I mean, a couple years ago she thought asking me to buy her a coffee was the same as asking me out for coffee.”

Aitana let out a bashful laugh, already blushing.

“She was very confused when I showed up at the café with two drinks,” you added with a grin.

“She does really well,” the man said, turning back to her. “I mean, I suppose you just have to take it step by step, don’t you, Aitana?”

Aitana blinked, a little confused by the tone. “Sí… I learn… more every day.”

He nodded slowly, like he was talking to a toddler learning to count.

That was the last straw.

You leaned forward in your seat, resting your elbows on the table and smiling so brightly it made your cheeks hurt.

“Sorry, could you repeat that?” you asked sweetly. “Only, I wasn’t sure if you were talking to my girlfriend or trying to train a puppy.”

His smile froze. “I was just-“

“Oh no, of course,” you said quickly, voice still sugary. “You were just trying to be helpful. Just like when you repeated the word football, as if she’s never heard of it before. What would she do without such clear explanations?”

Aitana looked between the two of you, clearly starting to realise something was off. “Cariño?” she said softly, touching your arm.

You glanced at her, brushing your fingers over her knuckles. “It’s okay, baby. Everything’s fine.”

The man cleared his throat. “I didn’t mean any offence-“

“Oh, of course not,” you cut in smoothly. “That’s the best part about passive condescension. You can always claim it’s not meant that way.”

He shifted in his seat.

“Do you talk like that to all players whose first language isn’t English?” you asked, tilting your head. “Or just the women?”

Aitana’s eyes widened slightly at that, her grip on your hand tightening.

“I’m just trying to make the interview accessible,” he said defensively.

“For you or for her?”

He didn’t answer.

You smiled again, this time without warmth. “Look, if you can’t speak to her with the same respect and tone you’d use for any English-speaking player, maybe you’re not the right person for this interview.”

There was a long, heavy silence.

Aitana shifted closer, her voice quiet but certain. “I speak English. Not perfect, but… I can do it.”

You turned to her and kissed her cheek. “You speak beautifully.”

She flushed.

The interviewer cleared his throat again and offered a tight smile. “Perhaps we can… wrap this up.”

“Great idea,” you said, already rising from your chair.

Aitana stood with you, her hand sliding into yours, fingers laced tight.

Outside the studio, as soon as the door closed behind you, she let out a long breath. “Was…he bad?”

You looked down at her, face softening. “He was an ass.”

Her brow furrowed. “Ass…like donkey?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “No, baby. Not that kind of ass.”

She blinked at you, then gave a tiny, wicked grin. “You were angry.”

“A little.”

“You protect me.”

“Always.”

She leaned into you, pressing a kiss to your jaw. “Thank you, cariño.”

You hugged her tight, kissing her temple. “He’s lucky I didn’t throw the chair at him.”

“I throw it next time,” she said seriously, and you laughed again, tugging her close as you walked out together, hand in hand.

Tags:

@ceesimz @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @simp4panos @silentwolfsstuff @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan @ktgoodmorning @chelseacult

#aitana bonmati imagine #aitana bonmati #aitana goatmati #aitana bonmati x reader #aitana bonmati x you #woso community #woso x reader #woso appreciation #woso imagine #fluff

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simbistardis · 2 months ago

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It is incredibly frustrating to be aromantic and for people to treat you like you’re heartless, or could never care about anyone at all. We are also put in the unfair and uncomfortable position of justifying our lack of romantic love and explaining the “validity” of other relationship types. It can feel like you’re still stuck within the system, because either way society is telling you that you yourself are not enough, and that you need to be partnered in some way. some people never want a partner, and that’s incredibly fucking valid and should be respected. In trying to navigate aromantic identity in relationships, I also have to deal with the frustration of being a gender nonconforming Black woman as well. I am hypersexualized, told i’m ugly, expected to perform emotional labor for free, subject to hella micro- and macroagressions, told that i’m scary, and always trying to make myself palatable for someone else. this is exhausting. and so it is fun to dream and think about love and relationships, and i have some very important and meaningful relationships with folx, but because of my undesirability, because of my Blackness and Black womanhood, and because of my aromantic identity, I feel very much cut off from having the types of relationships that I would like to have. It can be difficult and frustrating and isolating to see friends, family, strangers, move in and out of casual, serious, or no labels types of relationships knowing that if they one day decide to have a romantic partner, they will be supported in that choice. Perhaps not by all of society, perhaps not everywhere, but there are models for what their relationship could look like. Society has given them options on how to find partners–as a Black Aromantic, I have been given nothing.

Being Black, Aro, and Imagining Relationships, hello! from a Black Aromantic by Mazarae, idkjustwordsyameen.wordpress (2021)

#black aromanticism #black aromantics #black aromantic #aromantic #aromanticism #aro #aroace #aroallo #aromantism #aro week #2020s

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cozycottagetarot · 4 months ago

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How They Show Their Love & Affection

This reading is for entertainment purposes only! Take only what resonates be it all, some or none! ✨

PILE 1

I feel like your person is such a romantic. They genuinely want you to feel loved and believe it wholeheartedly. You can practically sense their love—they want you to feel like you're absolutely blessed and gifted in this lifetime when you're with them. I really get the sense that your person embodies certain love languages strongly. Gift-giving and acts of service could be their primary love language.

They want to make you feel like you're living a luxurious life, defined by whatever "luxury" means to you. They're the kind of person who would buy flowers for you, just because. They'd go for a walk and hold your hand which may feel a bit cliche. with you—simple, sweet moments like that mean a lot to them. If there’s something practical, like bugs in your home that need dealing with, they’d step in and handle it for you without hesitation.

They’re very romantic, both in the classical sense and in a way that's unique to how the two of you define romance. There’s also this cheerleader vibe—they’ll always be in your corner, supporting you and encouraging you.

They’d take time out of their day just to be with you, even if it’s something quick, like grabbing coffee or tea together for five minutes. They’re the kind of person who appreciates those little moments and stitches them into something meaningful.

They’d also plan thoughtful surprises for you. If surprises aren’t your thing, they’d still do spontaneous, kind gestures to show their love. If you asked, “What’s the occasion?” they’d simply say, “Just because” or “Just because I love you.” That’s their energy—always looking for ways to make you feel special.

I get the feeling they want to be your knight in shining armor. Anytime you need them, they’ll be there. You can absolutely count on them, 100%.

PILE 2

I'm getting the sense that your person is the strong, silent type. You may be someone who has either struggled mentally or faced a lot of hardships and difficult events in your life. Because of this, your person’s primary love language is to show up for you and be there, offering unwavering support to help you navigate those challenges.

I feel like quality time and words of affirmation are the love languages they most naturally express. They’ll use these to offer you love and support.

They’re the kind of person who will help you see new perspectives, guiding you out of your head and pushing you to grow into your best self. At the same time, they’ll also be there to comfort you, offering a sense of safety and reassurance. Even when life feels overwhelming, they’ll remind you that you don’t have to face it all alone.

They’re going to help you break free from anything that’s holding you back—be it limiting beliefs, unhealthy habits, or challenging relationships. They’ll stand by you as you work through those obstacles, and they’ll support you in fostering healthier connections with others.

When life feels like it’s falling apart, they’ll be right there, holding your hand every step of the way. They’ll also help you rebuild, piece by piece, until you’re standing on solid ground again.

On top of all that, they’re a deeply loving and nurturing partner. Whatever you need—mentally, emotionally, or physically—they won’t hesitate to provide. They want to see you thrive, and they’ll go out of their way to make that happen.

PILE 3

In comparison to Pile 1, where that person was more outspoken about their love, your person seems to love you deeply in their mind, though they might not express it as openly. They could just be a quieter person, or maybe they're more reserved in how they show their affection.

The sense I’m getting is that you’re your person’s muse—they genuinely want you to be happy. Because of this, I feel like quality time is probably the main way they express their love. However, they might always be on the move and have a lot going on in their life, so when they do make time for you, it’s their way of showing you how much you mean to them.

They try to connect with you emotionally, which leads me to think words of affirmation might also be a love language they lean toward. They’ll offer support and encouragement, letting you know how much you mean to them through their words.

There’s also a subtle, gentle touch to their affection, though they may not be overly physical. They may not be a super touchy-feely person, but they show their care in ways that feel warm and comforting.

They seem like the type to take you on dates where you can either learn something new or experience something beautiful together. I get the sense that they’re very creative, perhaps an artist or someone with a deep appreciation for art, and that creative energy is something they bring into your relationship.

Their passion will likely show more in the experiences you share together rather than grand declarations or intense gestures. They value those shared moments and want to create lasting memories with you.

In terms of love languages, they’ll likely try to be fair and give you a balanced experience. While quality time might be their favorite, they’ll also try to meet you where you are and love you in the ways that resonate most with you. They won’t limit themselves to just one way of expressing love—they’ll try to cater to your preferences.

I also get the feeling that they favor experiences over material gifts. Rather than buying things, they’d rather create meaningful moments with you.

Ultimately, the main thing here is that they just want to spend time with you—quality time is the consistent theme that keeps coming through.

#pick a card #pick a pile #pick a card reading #pac reading #pick a picture #pick a pile reading #pac #cozycottagetarot #tarot reading #future spouse #future spouse tarot reading #future spouse reading #love tarot reading #pick an image #free reading tarot #free tarot reading

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lemonlover1110 · 4 months ago

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𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Sukuna

[Chapter 7] Prisoner

← Previous Chapter - Story Masterlist - Next Chapter →

Pairing: Trueform!Sukuna x f!Reader

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi - Bluesky

Winter comes faster than expected. Within the blink of an eye, snow begins to fall and you’re prohibited from going outside. Now more than ever, you feel trapped.

You don’t feel any changes in the weather. The moment the temperature gets colder, Sukuna orders for more layers to be placed on you. Though you plead with Hina to let you breathe, all the layers are weighing heavily upon you, she has no option but to listen to Sukuna. Sukuna’s orders trumps all.

To add more to your suffocation, you’re bigger every day. It’s gotten to the point that you can’t see your feet, no matter how much you try. You’re prohibited from doing anything and everything, and you can’t secretly indulge since Sukuna watches your every move.

Though lately you wake up in the middle of the night and he’s gone. You know what he’s doing, and you can’t find yourself getting upset about it. Sukuna made it clear that your marriage means nothing. To add to it, you don’t feel anything towards him.

You would’ve sworn that at this point you’d have some sort of feelings towards Sukuna. You’re more sentimental than you’d like to admit… But Sukuna isn’t someone that you can find yourself attached to. On the contrary, you’re getting mad at his mere presence. Maybe it’s because he makes you feel like a prisoner, while he gets to freely live his life.

You wouldn’t dare go against Sukuna’s orders. That is until you’re very well into your pregnancy, and you realize that he wouldn’t dare hurt you. You know that you made a deal months back. You pretty much agreed to be his prisoner in order for him to save your brother’s life. But you’re tired.

You need a break from him just for a few hours. Which is why you wait for him to leave in the middle of the night in order to get up. Luckily, you don’t have to sneak past anyone. Since Sukuna has taken over the task of watching over you, no one bothers with keeping an eye over you.

You can barely watch your step, but you don’t dare to take a candle because you’ll just give yourself away. You finally get a breath of fresh air before realization kicks in. What are you exactly planning? You can’t go back home to your family, it’ll just end poorly for them.

You just need a breath of fresh air. You’ll go back inside in a matter of seconds. You need a moment where Sukuna isn’t watching your every movement. You just want to watch the snow fall, like you once did. You want to feel human, even if it’s just for minutes.

“My queen, what are you doing here?” You’re spooked by an all familiar voice. You put your hand over your fast beating heart as you turn to see your servant.

“Hina.” You acknowledge her presence before walking away. She’s assigned to you, but ultimately, she listens to Sukuna. She knows better than anyone that he won’t allow you to be here, which is why you walk away before she can speak up.

“My queen, you’re not supposed to be out here.” She tells you, and you pretend not to listen as you walk away. You’ve gotten to know the palace like the back of your hand these past months, but it gets slightly difficult to navigate when it’s dark– And you won’t even mention the giant bump that’s grown over the past months. You’re most certainly expecting more than one baby, just as your husband wants.

“King Sukuna is going to be livid if he finds you here.” She reminds you, following behind you. She can’t restrain you, but she’ll remind you that there will be consequences if Sukuna finds out.

“Livid? He’s burying himself inside another woman. He can’t be livid that his wife is taking a short walk.” You answer, and it dawns on her. Something that you’d never admit to yourself.

“He’s worried about the babies, aren’t you worried about them?” Hina questions and you freeze. How are you supposed to tell her that you’re not? You continue walking, deciding that not answering is the best possible option.

“Is this because you’re jealous?” She suddenly blurts out and it’s like a switch flips inside of you. You turn around to look at her and you scoff.

“Jealous of what? That a grotesque monster is with some other woman?” You sound offended that she even dared to ask that. “Please don’t ever disrespect me like that again, Hina.”

“A grotesque monster?” You hear the chilling voice behind you, before you’re lifted off the floor by him. You’re not even given a second to defend yourself before he’s carrying you back inside.

“Sukuna! Put me down!” You yell, kicking your feet as he forcefully takes you inside. “Sukuna! Put me down! I’m ordering you to put me down!”

“What makes you think I’d listen to you?” He responds as you continue kicking your feet. You’re yelling at him to put you down on the ground, you can still use your own two feet to walk back to your room. Sukuna finally fulfills your wishes when you reach your room, gently putting you down on the floor. The moment your feet make contact with the floor, he scolds you, “What is it with you and not listening?”

“I just need a breath of fresh air. You always refuse when I ask so I took matters into my own hands.” You cross your arms, an act that is barely visible in the dead of night. Sukuna lights a candle, that way you can see his every expression. He wants you to be scared by a mere look. He wants you to see just how grotesque he truly is. “I feel like a prisoner, Sukuna. I can’t stay locked inside this cage until these babies come out of me.”

“What did you think this was?” Sukuna has a mocking tone of voice, making your blood run cold. It knocks you out of the idealistic world that you live in your head. “You feel like a prisoner because you are one. You traded your liberty for your brother’s life, and now you’re mine.”

You feel tears well up in your eyes, the harsh reality check breaking your heart. Why did you think you would have a say? You can’t even walk outside of your room and take a breath of fresh air until spring. You can’t do anything that Sukuna doesn’t approve of.

“I just want a breath of fresh air.” Your voice cracks, unable to contain the emotions that flow through you. This is your life now, and it’s hard to accept. You’ve had a couple of months to get used to the idea, but you’ve given yourself a higher position than the one that you actually have.

“And you’re about to cry.” Sukuna scoffs, watching as tears fill your eyes to the brim. His words are the catalyst that leads the salty tears to stream down your face. “Great.”

“Why can’t I just step outside for a minute?” You cry, and he rolls his eyes. “I’m not running away, I just need–”

“Do you think the cold is–” Sukuna interrupts you but he can’t finish his sentence without being cut off by one of your sobs. He sighs, stepping closer to you and wiping your tears with his kimono. He gently pats your back, the way Uraume told him to. “There, there.”

“I can’t do anything without you. I can barely breathe without you breathing down my neck.” You’re a complete mess, and Sukuna scoffs yet again. It should be an honor for you to say those words, yet you sound distraught.

“The cold isn’t good for my heirs.” Sukuna reminds you, something that you should know by now. He’s made it clear since the beginning, and he reminds you every time he reprimands you for asking to go outside.

“Do you know how hard it is to be locked inside all day every day?” You ask him, and he looks annoyed at the question. Of course he wouldn’t know, but this is for your very own good. “I’m staring at a wall for hours on end, while you breathe down my neck– If not you, then one of your stupid servants.”

“Do you not care for your own sons that you continue to make such stupid points?” Sukuna questions, and a knot forms in your throat. You look away from him, wiping away the tears that manage to escape your eyes. You’ve never said it out loud, but you guess there’s a first time for everything. You’re scared about how he’ll react though.

You take a deep breath.

“I don’t.” You answer. “They’re your sons, not mine.”

“Huh?” It takes a lot to leave Sukuna dumbfounded, and you’ve accomplished it. He’s staring at you as if you’ve managed to cast a spell. “What did you just say?”

“I do not care for your heirs.” You repeat, and Sukuna isn’t sure how to react.

He knows of women that don’t love their offspring, usually they come offering their babies as currency. However, most women that come to him, come with the purpose of saving their children, whether born or unborn. He’s heard that humans tend to love their babies since before they’re even born, and he surely would’ve expected that from you. But that’s not the case.

“Of course, you wouldn’t care for the heirs of such a grotesque monster.” He responds, and you nod in agreement. You can’t even look him in the eye, but you act boldly. Sukuna tries to not get hurt by your response, because in the end it doesn’t matter. “You still have to carry them, and nurture them once they’re born. You can’t get rid of them so easily.”

His hand goes under your chin, tilting your head up and forcing you to look at him,

“Whether you like it or not, you’re still my prisoner.”

#[bonds of fruition]#jujutsu kaisen sukuna #ryoumen sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna #sukuna ryomen #jjk sukuna #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #sukuna jjk #sukuna x you #sukuna jujutsu kaisen #sukuna x y/n #jujutsu sukuna

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realcube · 5 months ago

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dilf december

day two ⭑ katsuki bakugo ⭑ student's parent x teacher! reader

tw : nsfw minors dni, age gap, oral (giving), mentions of vaginal, praise

it's always difficult when there is a problem child in your class, and for the sake of the other students' learning, you need to get their parents involved.

but it's even more difficult when the aforementioned child's only parent is worse than they are.

school had ended, and you had scheduled a meeting with the parent of a child in your class who has been disrupting and causing trouble. you tried to deal with the situation internally but you've been left with no choice but to call a parents-teacher conference.

it was disheartening to hear the child only had one active parent in their life, but that didn't change the fact their behaviour had to be dealt with. you called their parent and arranged for him to meet you in your classroom at 3.10PM.

it's now 3.30PM and a rugged man with spikey blonde hair and light stubble, wearing a black hero costume comes barging into your room, yelling, "alright, make this quick."

before you can even process what he looks like, he's thrown himself down on the chair that you had positioned across from your desk. you take a moment to look at him, and that's when you realise he's not only extremely hot but also that you recognise this guy has a very well-known pro-hero. king explosion murder dynamight god or something over-the-top like that.

but regardless of his occuption or how famous or how good-looking he is, you must remain professional and treat him like you would any other parent of your student.

"good afternoon, sir. i'm glad you could join me today to discuss your child's academic performance. twenty minutes late, however."

he crosses his arms over his chest and dramatically groans, "i see what the problem is. so, i'm not going to sit here and get lectured about my kid's 'academic performance' from some tween who graduated yesterday."

you blink twice, unfamilar with being met with this much hostility right off the bat. so it takes you a moment to gather yourself before you are able to choke out a response. "my age or experience has nothing to do with this. i'm just trying to help your child succeed in my class."

taking a calm approach seemed to be effective, as bakugo sunk back into his chair. his arms were still crossed over his chest and he still had a sour expression but at least he's listening.

"okay. so if you don't mind me asking, what are things like at home?"

"fine." he replies bluntly.

you nod along, trying to mimic a concerned look, as though you don't already know exactly what the problem is. "alright. it's just that your child has been displaying signs of bad-temper in class and is prone to angry outbursts, and those behaviours usually stem from within the household."

"yeah? well, his mums a whore so that probably doesn't help either." he states plainly, averting eye-contact.

you harshly bite your tongue to prevent you from laughing or even showing the slightest sign of amusement on your face. "oh?" you croak. "so i assume there has been a bit of infidelity."

"a bit." he agrees, staring at you with narrowed eyes.

"and how are you all planning on navigating the situa—"

"look. you're not a god damn therapist so don't try this psychoanalysis bullshit on me. just tell me what you want me to do. make him do extra homework? yell at him? take his games away? what?"

you press your lips together in a line, and stare at him in thought. you clear your thought and reply unsteadily, "i don't.. really know. to me it seems like he is just mimicking behaviours he sees at home and is responding to a high-stress environment. are you the only one who lives with him?"

"yeah. me, him and sometimes my mum babysits." he grumbles.

"well, i think we'd need to address the root of the cause. and i hate to say it, sir, but that would be you."

"of course it fuckin' is." he spits, and you brush this off and continue talking.

"you seem very irate about the situation with your wife an—"

"ex-wife." he corrects.

".. ex-wife. and rightfully so. on top of that, i understand you have a very intense and high-stakes job? all of that stress cannot be good for you; i'd suggest you take steps to address your own worries and that should ease the tension in your house."

"don't be stressed or angry. got it." he replies sardonically.

"just take some extra time to chill out and focus on yourself. plus, i happen to know a very effective relaxation technique, if you're interested?"

he quirks an eyebrow.

⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

you pride yourself on being a helpful and engaging teacher. that's part of the reason why you find yourself on your knees, hidden away in the janitor's cupboard, with your student's dad's dick in your mouth.

it's dark, with only a single flickering bulb illuminating the room, and it casts shadows over his chiselled face. making him all the more intimidating to gaze up at, with crystalline tears welling in your eyes from the way his fat cock bruises the back of your throat.

but even then, he has a firm grip on your hair and uses it to maneuver your head to his pleasing, forcing you to take it all repeatedly at a pace of his making. "shit, you're too fuckin' good at that." he groans lowly, sighing through his nose.

his gaze flickers rapidly between staring into distance at looking down at you and watching your every move; how your sweet cheeks puff out to take his girth, or the way your plump lips clasp and pucker around him. but occasionally he'll lose himself in the intoxicating feeling of your warm mouth and find his eyes rolling back in his head and increasingly lewd noises coming from him.

in this instance, he didn't snap back to reality until after he had shot his salty load into your mouth. you close you mouth as he looks down at you expectantly. without a word exchanged, you swallow it and he only chuckles. "what a good girl." he muses, pulling you up to your feet by your hair and admiring your dishevelled state.

when you are at around his level again, he notices a smudge of cum has spilled from the corner of your lip. so he promptly uses his thumb to guide it back inside, admiring you as he does so.

but this is short-lived before he swiftly turns you around by your hips and works at unbuttoning your jeans, "now let me try this tight pussy."

#bakugo smut #bnha smut #mha smut #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x female reader #bnha x reader #👾nsfw #dilf⭑december

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storiesforallfandoms · 13 days ago

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heatwave ~ matt murdock;marvel

word count: 3306

request?: no

description: in which a terrible heatwave has hit hell's kitchen, and it's leading to some lewd thoughts about her roommate

pairing: matt murdock x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut (shower sex, oral - f receiving, multiple orgasms, unprotected p in v, matt asks for permission, a smidgeon of begging, naked cuddling afterwards but like...actually cuddling, not a euphemism)

masterlist (one, two, three)

It was an unbearably hot day in Hell's Kitchen. Hot enough that it was making the "Hell" part seem a little too real. It was the type of hot that leaving the window open filled the apartment with heat, but closing it made the place feel like a heat box. There was just no escaping it.

I was grateful to have the day off because it was definitely too hot to work, but at the same time I knew my job had working AC. Matt and I had been saving up for a working AC unit, but it was difficult when other expenses kept getting in our way. Matt kept insisting that when he finally got promoted to a lawyer position, we wouldn't have to worry so much about the apartment expenses, but he and Foggy had been in the same position at Landon and Zack - and unhappily so 0 for so long that I was starting to double they'd get a promotion at that law firm specifically.

Either way, for now all Matt and I had was a shitty fan that blew just enough cold air to make living in this heat bearable. I was wearing my shortest shorts and thinnest tank top, laid out on our couch with the fan directly on me. I was still extremely hot to a point where I just wanted to crawl out of my skin as it felt like the only option.

I couldn't even bring myself to turn my head as i heard the front door open and shut. I knew who it was anyways, even without the familiar sound of Matt's cane folding up. When he did walk into my eyeline, I scoffed. "How are you walking around dressed like that?"

Matt was in a pair of long dress pants, a light blue button up - with no sweat stains, might I add - and his tie pulled tight to his neck. Looking at him alone was making me overcome with heat.

Matt chuckled. "I have no choice in the matter. Can't exactly walk into a law firm in daisy dukes and a wife beater."

I snickered at the idea of Matt Murdock in daisy dukes.

I met Matt over a year ago after he had responded to my "roommate wanted" ad. My last roommate had moved out suddenly with very little notice, leaving me to try and pay rent for the apartment on my minimum wage salary. So to say I was desperate for a roommate is an understatement. Still, I was a little hesitant to answer Matt's response to my post. He was a strange man, and it was just me in the apartment. A girl can't be too careful in this day and age. But, again, I was desperate, so I agreed to meet up with him to discuss moving in.

Imagine my shock, and slight relief, when a well dressed, blind man introduced himself as an intern at Landon and Zack, and was also needing a roommate as his internship didn't pay enough to cover rent at his own place, plus his student debt.

The next week, he was moving into my apartment.

I liked Matt. He was easy to get along with, and he pulled his weight around the apartment. And in general, he was a nice guy. I liked hanging out with him, and with Foggy whenever he was over, too. I did feel like I hit the jackpot for roommates with him.

Matt made his way to his room. In the process, I noticed him pulling at his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. I tried not to be so obvious in my staring, until I remembered he couldn't actually see me staring at him.

Okay, yeah, I may have had fantasies about Matt. Can you blame me? He's a handsome man, and I am but a girl. Not like anything would happen between us. It couldn't happen. That'd make things incredibly awkward around the apartment.

When Matt came back out of his room, he was changed into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. I watched him navigate around the room, as if searching for something, before turning to me.

"You're hogging the fan."

I scoffed. "There was no one to hog it from until a few minutes ago."

"Well, there is now, and you're hogging it."

I rolled my eyes. "Just come sit on the couch, idiot. I'll position the fan so it's on both of us."

Matt moved slowly towards the couch. When we first started living together, I would often try to help Matt with things around the apartment, such as moving from point A to point B. I thought it was helpful, until one day Matt assured me that he could do things on his own.

"I have been blind for most my life," he had said. "I've learned how to live with it."

So, after that, I stopped helping unless Matt asked. Like now, just watching him navigate to the couch. When he got close enough, I sighed and extended a hand to him. "Grab my hand, ding dong."

He chuckled. "Ding dong? Are you 12?"

"Almost."

Matt took my hand and I slowly led him to the couch, then patted the cushion so Matt could hear where to sit. I didn't expect him to plop himself down so close to me, but he decided to sit so close that our arms were brushing against one another. I tried to ignore it by tilting the fan so it was blowing on both of us.

"We should get an inflatable pool," I suggested.

Matt chuckled. "And put it where? We live in an apartment building. We don't exactly have a backyard."

"Put it in the living room."

"I'm sure our landlord would appreciate that."

"It's not like he'd know. In all the years I've lived here, I think he's been by twice."

Matt tilted his head towards me. "I don't think it's a good idea."

I rolled my eyes and sighed. "You're so no fun, Matt."

We fell into a silence that made me remember that Matt was sat so close to me. I tried to sneak a glance at him, and then once again remembered he couldn't see me anyways, so I allowed myself to look. I allowed myself to glance at the way his shorts were riding up, showing off his thigs. I allowed myself to glance at his arms, weirdly strong for a lawyer, and now with the added touch of sweat making him glisten.

God, I'm no better than a man.

I was suddenly a lot hotter, with a particular heat pulsing between my legs.

"You alright?"

I jumped at the sudden sound of Matt's voice. "Uh, yeah. Why?"

"You're...quiet."

I chuckled. "Didn't know quiet was a bad thing."

"It's not, but you're...I don't know. There's something different about this silence."

"It's just hot."

I was on my feet before I knew what I was doing. I just needed some distance before I did something incredibly stupid. I needed this heat to fuck off so Matt and I could put more clothes on and I wouldn't have to see so much of his skin that it turned me into a prepubescent boy.

I muttered something about showering before rushing to the bathroom. Once the door was closed behind me, I let out a long sigh. I wasn't actually sure about showering at first, but now that I was away from the fan I was starting to feel too hot and sweaty again. A cold shower wouldn't go astray, and I had definitely been sweating enough all day to warrant showering.

I turned on the shower, turning the cold tap almost all the way while turning the hot tap just enough to make it so the water wasn't bitterly cold. I stripped myself of my clothes and stepped under the cold water. I don't know how I hadn't thought of a cold shower before, but it was definitely the best idea. The downside was that eventually I'd have to get back out into the hot, humid air of the apartment, but for the time being I was content with standing under the cold water until my fingers and toes were prunes.

I wasn't paying much attention to anything besides how nice the cold water felt, otherwise I might've heard the bathroom door opening. I might've heard the sound of clothes hitting the floor, joining my own discarded pile. But I definitely did not miss the sound of the shower curtain being pulled back, revealing a completely naked Matt Murdock.

I shrieked in shock, my heart racing a million miles a second from the scare.

"Matt, what the fuck?!" I snapped.

"You forgot a towel," he said, gesturing to the two towels he had laid on the counter.

"So you had to get completely naked to bring me some towels?"

"Well, to bring you a towel. The other is for me."

When he stepped into the shower, I tried to back away, but damn this small apartment with its small shower. There wasn't much further I could move from him without stepping completely under the shower head and practically drown myself. It took everything in my power to keep my eyes on his face and not to let them venture lower.

"What are you doing?" I asked him. I tried to sound forceful, confident, but instead my voice came out soft, nearly a whisper.

He didn't respond. Instead, he was reaching for me. I knew I should've pulled away, or pushed him away, or insisted that he leave because this was definitely pushing a boundary that we should not cross as roommates. That's what I should've done. Instead, I let Matt's hands find my waist. I let him pull me to him, pressing our bodies together under the cold water. I no longer had to fight not to look down between his legs, because now it was pressed against me.

"What are you doing?" I asked again.

"Your heart was racing," he said, like that answered everything.

"Yeah, you scared me. That tends to be the usual reaction."

"No, I mean earlier. One the couch. When I was next to you, it started beating harder and faster."

"How do you know that?"

"I could hear it."

If it were any other circumstances, I probably would've laughed at that. I probably would've made some quip about him having super hearing since he was blind. But my mind wasn't functioning properly. Not with Matt pressed up against me like that, holding me like that. His hands wandering over my body the way they were.

"We-we can't," I finally managed.

"Why not?"

"We live together, Matt. It'll make everything awkward."

"Or maybe we'll finally get rid of this tension between us and can find out how we wanna proceed afterwards."

Tension between us? Does that mean he's had the same thoughts I've had? Does he feel the same way I've been feeling about him?

My mind was rushing when Matt kissed me, so much so that I almost didn't register it at first. It was a shock, and then it felt right. I placed my arms around his neck, leaning into the kiss. One of his hands found their way to my hair, tangling in the wet locks to hold me in place, while the other drifted down my body until it came to rest on my ass. I could feel him pressed against my stomach, his hard cock twitching. In the time Matt and I had lived together, I had met all of his "girlfriends", who liked to brag about being with Matt because they were all threatened by his female roommate. I was glad to report that the bragging about what he was packing had not just been to make me jealous.

Matt tugged at my hair, which resulted in a gasp slipping from my lips. He smirked, and I just knew that bastard was making mental notes of everything that made me have involuntary reactions. He pulled my head back to expose my neck to him. He kissed my jawline and down my neck, nipping at areas that would certainly leave very visible marks later. He continued moving down my body, trailing kisses from my neck down over my chest, and giving ample attention to my breasts. I was now leaning against the shower wall, my head lulled back at Matt took each of my breasts into his mouth one at a time, swirling his tongue around my already hard nipples. I gasped and moaned with each flick of his tongue. I held the back of his head with one hand, grasping at the strands of hair at the nape of his neck.

Soon, Matt was on his knees on the tile shower floor. We had switched places, so the cold water was now cascading down on him. I was about to offer to move the shower head so he wasn't directly in the line of fire, but Matt cut me off by lifting my leg over his shoulder and immediately diving his tongue into my pussy. I cried out, both in shock and in pleasure.

I had been with a few guys in my lifetime, some of which didn't mind giving oral. But none of them could ever hold a candle to what Matthew Murdock could do with his tongue.

Within seconds of his head being between my legs, I had completely lost any sort of coherence. The only thing my mind could focus on was how good Matt's tongue felt running over my swollen clit; darting in and out of my pussy, as he was quite literally fucking me with his tongue; the feeling of his lips wrapping around my clit and gently sucking on it. It was like he knew exactly what I would like before I even knew. It wasn't long before Matt was holding onto my thighs as they began to quiver, holding me up as my orgasm washed over me. He kept lapping at my cunt, drinking in every drop of me that he could like a man starved.

My legs felt weak. I wasn't sure I'd be able to stay stood. Luckily for me, I didn't have to. As Matt got to his feet, he kept hold of my leg. He pressed his body against mine, holding me in place. When he kissed me, I could still taste me on his lips.

"Can I fuck you?" he asked. His tone of voice was nothing I had ever heard from him before. It was full of lust and desire. His hard cock was resting against me, begging to get its own release, but he waited. He waited until I gave him permission.

It was the barest of minimums, but there was something about Matt wanting to hear me say yes that made the dull ache of post-orgasm turn into the tingly feeling of desire once again.

"Yes," I breathed. "Please Matt, fuck me."

He wasted no time in lining himself up with my entrance. He pushed in slowly, letting me feel every inch of him as he filled me up. The stretch stung, but it felt so good. Once he was buried to the hilt inside of me, he took a moment to allow me to adjust to him. I watched as his face contorted in pleasure and I couldn't help but feel a little pride that I was making him feel this good, even if I wasn't the one doing the work.

"Fuck," he sighed. "Can I start fucking you?"

I nodded. Luckily he still had his forehead against mine, so he felt the approval instead of me having to say it outloud.

He started slow, pulling almost all the way out then pushing all the way back in. It was almost an agonizing pace. It felt so good, but every time he slipped everything except the tip out I felt hollow. He reached a spot inside of me that had only been reached a few times before, but with his pace he was only grazing it instead of constantly nudging it the way I wanted him to.

I was getting close to begging him to speed up. A desperate whine even slipped from my mouth when he pulled all the way out of me again. But this time, when he thrusted back inwards, it was fast and rough. The force pushed my ass back against the shower tile.

"Fuck," he breathed again. "I'm trying to make this last, but I really just want to fuck you until your legs are too numb to work anymore."

Another whimper. "Please."

"What was that?"

"Please fuck me," I said. "Fuck me however you want, Matt. I need it. I need it so bad."

He captured my lips in another kiss as he started thrusting into me at a ruthless pace. The sound of our wet skin colliding fill the room over the sound of the running water. It was lewd and naughty, and so good. It was something we'd never come back from as roommates, but I couldn't care less now. Nothing beyond this moment mattered.

Matt reached his other hand between us. He began to rub circles on my clit with his thumb. His thrusts changed slightly, just enough to hit that spot inside me in a way that drove me crazy. I had my arms around his neck, trying to keep myself up, but as I felt another orgasm building I knew I wouldn't be able to stay upright on my own. When the wave crashed over me, I threw my head back against the wall and cried out his name. It was more intense than the first one, so intense that my vision went completely white.

Matt's cock twitched inside of me, the only warning I had before he hit his own high. He buried himself inside me one last time, shooting himself so deep inside of me that I was sure I'd be full of him for weeks. He groaned in pleasure, resting his forehead against mine again.

The shower water had finally gone stark cold. Not that it mattered. We had definitely worked up a new sweat even with the cooling sensation beating against our bodies.

I sighed when Matt finally had to pull himself free of me. He chuckled and leaned in for one final kiss.

"Let's clean you up before we get out."

He slowly lowered me to the edge of the tub. I passed him my body wash and he lathered up his hands to clean between my thighs. He rinsed himself as well before turning off the water. The chill from the water had gotten under my skin enough that I didn't immediately become overwhelmed with heat once the shower was off. Matt wrapped the towel around himself first before wrapping one around me, and then picking me up to carry me out of the bathroom.

"I can walk myself, Matt," I said, although we both knew that was untrue.

"Your still trembling legs say otherwise," he noted.

He carried me to his bedroom. We dried ourselves off as much as we could with the towels before discarding them onto the floor and getting into his bed. Matt pulled me to him, resting my head against his chest. There was still so much we probably should discuss, but neither of us made the effort to say anything. We weren't ready to face the reality of what was next for us as roommates. Instead, we were content to lay together for just a while longer, until the heat became too much to bear once again.

I listened to his heartbeat, and I couldn't help but think about how all of this started because he claimed he could hear my own.

~~~

toss a coin to your witcher!

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#matt murdock #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock smut #charlie cox #charlie cox x reader #charlie cox imagine #charlie cox smut #daredevil #imagine #one shot #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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serpentface · 6 months ago

Text

Come On Man.

(Extensive linguistic notes for this 'balls in my mouth' comic under the cut)

The extensive linguistic notes for this "balls in my mouth" comic:

Brakul's first language is the West Rivers dialect of the broader Highlands language, which is part of the Finnic language family. It first split from the Proto-Finnic spoken north of the Viper about a millennia ago with migrants traveling south overseas, and further split into what are now the two native Finnic language groups in Wardin (the Highlands and North Wardi tongues). The Highlands language is a dialect continuum- most neighboring dialects are mutually intelligible, but people from opposite ends of the language's home region would have troubles communicating clearly (though the continuum is not wide enough for any to be fully incomprehensible).

Brakul knew some very, very basic Wardi from occasional contact with Ephenni traders as a teenager, and would later become fluent in the South Wardi dialect as a second language. Wardi is from a wholly separate language family than the Finnic languages with EXTREMELY distant common ancestry, and very different in form and function. Wardi is in many ways less specified and direct, having a smaller variety of individual words to communicate emotional/sensory states and instead imparting many layers of meaning to the same words in different contexts, which Brakul sometimes finds difficult and irritating to navigate. This is one of a number of reasons he often expresses himself more fully in his mother tongue.

Janeys is a native Wardi speaker (South Wardi dialect), fluent in 'Seaway Burri' (which is a lingua franca of the Mouth sea powers, many people along the coastal cities know it as a second language), and semi-fluent in 'High Burri' (state language of the Burri Republic), and in the present day has a modest comprehension of the West Rivers Highlands dialect. This takes place 4.5 years after he and Brakul met, and he mostly just knows basic utilitarian conversational terms and parts of speech, and has a decent understanding of the grammar and how to conjugate verbs. After 13 years of exposure to Brakul talking at him and occasionally deigning to explain what he's saying, Janeys can Sort Of hold a conversation.

---

NOTES ON THE POST ITSELF:

I = Sí

My= Sig

You= Mí (casual) Mís (formal)

---

Mí vírim is “I love you”.

The unconjugated form of the verb is vírir. The dead literal translation is “to need”, but "mí vírim" translates more accurately as "I love you" than "I need you". It DOES have connotations of need, it expresses love as a sense of wholeness and natural dependency- you say it to express affection towards someone to whom you owe your existence, to a line of ancestors, to your descendants, to the people you create or provide for your descendants with. It says "you are part of my sense of place in this world, you connect me to something greater than myself that sustains me". It will mostly be spoken between immediate kin (parents, children, siblings), husbands and wives, and in practice of venerating your ancestors. This is a gay as fuck thing to say to an unrelated man.

There's at least three other ways to directly say "I love ___" one of which is an affectionate expression of camaraderie, one of which communicates strong aesthetic appreciation, and one that is used in practice specifically to express affection/gratitude towards livestock (though can be used more broadly).

Janeys comprehends the phrase "Mí vírim" as “(I) [UNKNOWN VERB] you” and he's able to discern from Subtle Context Clues that it's something like 'I love you'.

He guesses the unconjugated verb inaccurately as (v)írer, as -Er and -Ur verb endings are more common than -Ir endings, and -Er/-Ir verbs share all the same conjugated forms.

Wardi languages have no ‘v’ sound to begin with, and the ‘v’ here is very soft, between a ‘vuh’ and ‘fuh’. This doesn’t come naturally to Janeys (or most Wardi speakers in general) and comes out as a 'wuh' on first impulse and a hard ‘fuh’ when he tries to replicate it.

This is something he never gets good at and Brakul is grateful that it’s his brother who was named ‘Vrailedh’ (Vrai-lehd-hh)) and not him so he doesn’t have to hear ‘Wrai-lehd’ or ‘Frai-lehd’ all the damn time by his Wardi compatriots. (Many of them don't even get his actual name right, but it's a lesser sin of not rolling the R and under-emphasizing the -ul)

---

"Sí brūlmim fágh filshíbe" is “I am very gullible”. The use here is not particularly cruel and is more just that his first impulse upon realizing Janeys will repeat anything he says right now is to make a "someone wrote gullible on the ceiling" level joke at his expense.

Fágh is a word used to emphasize an adjective and some nouns, functionally close to 'very' but used specifically for non-physical/non-sensory qualities (emotion, personality, etc). You could use fágh in the sentence “I’m so sorry” "he's such an asshole".

Brūlmim is "I am" in present tense. The unconjugated form is brūlmur, meaning 'to be' in a permanent sense, as a matter of nature. Other verbs are used for ‘to be’ in a purely transitory sense (“I am tired”) or describing a prolonged but impermanent state, usually past tense (“I was a stupid teenager”).

Filshíbe straightforwardly means 'gullible'.

The 'h' at the end of fágh is vocalized as an exhale, sounds a little like 'fog-uh' with a VERY soft and breathy 'uh'. The '-e' at the end filshíbe is also exhaled, coming out as a quick, soft 'eh'. Neither of these sounds are natural to a Wardi speaker (especially the breathy 'eh', most -e ending words are pronounced with a strong '-ey').

Janeys is comprehending “I’m (very/so) [UNKNOWN WORD]” here, and his face is being touched so softly so [UNKNOWN WORD] is very compelling and he's learning new things and is kind of in the zone so might as well say it back.

---

"Mísig uns drótes vísti sig bahrég, s'vaige do mi?" means "Your balls in my mouth, please?". What makes the sentence Particularly funny to Brakul here is that it's Excessively polite (using a formal and deferential 'your' and very gracious 'please') and jarringly accompanied with lowbrow slang for testicles. A more tonally accurate english translation would be "Sir, may I please perchance take your fat fucking sack in my mouth?"

Mísig means 'your', but specifically implies deference- it's a word you would use to address an elder or authority figure, or to use while being very, very polite. (Mís is the equivalent deferential 'you').

Uns drótes is one of several slang terms for testicles. This one uses the word 'boulders', and is thus Specifically implying 'big balls'. It's lowbrow and a very mild expletive (in the same degree 'ass' is in English).

Vísti means 'in' or 'inside', as a physical state of something being inside of another thing- you would use it for 'there's a bird in that cage' but not 'there's fear in my heart'.

Bahrég means 'mouth', which is almost always used in the purely anatomical sense. The other word for 'mouth' in the language more commonly refers to the mouths of animals (might be better translated as 'maw') and also gets applied to non-anatomical objects (ie 'the mouth of the cave').

S'vaige do mi means 'thank you' (dead literally 'my gratitude to you', the S in S'vaige is a contracted sig/'my') but is translated here as 'please' for clarity. There isn't actually a word that directly correlates to 'please' in the Highlands language, a polite request is accompanied with a 'thank you' instead (IE: "Could you pass the salt, thank you?"). This is one of two direct ways to say 'thank you' and this is the more intensely polite of the two.

Janeys will have understood this sentence as "(polite 'Your') [UNKNOWN WORD] (in? inside? within?) my [UNKNOWN WORD], please." This one throws him off, but he's pretty sure he's about to be kissed on the mouth for the first time in his life so he's willing to go with it.

#This information is buried in the Linguistic Notes Section but this takes place about 4 and a half years after they met #At which point no ones balls have been in anyone's mouth yet #brakul red dog #janeys haidamane

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jzprncess · 7 months ago

Text

love language by sza

“help me understand how you speak your love language ”

pairing: Max Verstappen x Y/N reader

part 1/2 next part

word count: 2,823

summary: a girlfriend of a successful f1 driver decides to learn Dutch to better understand her boyfriends world—his culture, his emotions, and the language he speaks—hoping to connect more deeply and navigate the complexities of their high-speed, high-pressure relationship.

note: first time writing a fan fiction so be nice please! i don’t know how to work tumblr to the fullest so if you want to requests anything, message it to me! this will be in two parts! please leave comments so i know im doing something right!!

　　　　　　 ❛ ━━･♡❪ ❁ ❫♡･━━ ❜

Out of all the unexpected turns her life had taken, learning another language was never on Y/N's radar. Yet, here she was, grappling with the complexities of Dutch, staring at her laptop screen during a Zoom call with her tutor, Anne. They had been chatting frequently, especially while Max was off competing in a grueling triple-header race weekend.

Before he left, Y/N had noticed the shadow of frustration in Max's eyes, a rare shift from his usually upbeat demeanor. It wasn’t lost on her—or anyone, really. The weight of the season’s challenges had begun to press down on him, making his once confident posture seem a little more hunched, his usual optimism now clouded by self-doubt. Everyone could see it. With the way the season had started, Max had envisioned triumph. But now, in October, his hopes felt distant. He hadn’t clinched a victory since June, and every reminder of that fact only seemed to add to his frustration. Y/N wished she could lift that burden, even if just for a moment.

In an attempt to brighten his spirits, she decided to do something special for him—a gesture that would help him escape the pressure he was under. The very day he departed, Y/N found herself scouring the internet, searching for someone who could teach her some basic Dutch. Max, ever the romantic, had always whispered sweet phrases in his native tongue—whether it was giving her a compliment or simply wishing her a good morning. And though she often required translations, Y/N thought, Why not learn the language myself? It couldn’t be that difficult, right?

And so, here she was, earnestly trying to master the phrase “I love you, handsome” in Dutch, yet somehow fumbling over the words.

“Y/N, your pronunciation is getting better, but you need to keep practicing,” Anne encouraged from the other side of the screen, her fingers dancing over her keyboard. The rhythmic sound of her typing seemed to fill the space between them, as if punctuating her words with gentle encouragement. “Have you taken my advice and started watching shows in Dutch? Immersing yourself in the language will really help you improve, especially with those tricky pronunciations.”

Y/N leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms, and stared at the screen, her lips pressing together as she tried to hold back the exhaustion creeping in. She had been working hard at this—between the classes, the practice, the late nights watching Dutch shows, and the constant racing schedule with Max, it was all starting to feel like a lot. “Yeah, I’ve been talking to the TV like it’s my best friend,” she said with a small, self-deprecating chuckle, her voice sounding a bit weary. “The characters probably think I’m crazy by now. But, you know, I think I’m making progress? Or at least I hope I am.”

Anne’s eyebrows raised in an encouraging way. “Well, that’s the spirit! The more you immerse yourself, the more natural it will feel. Dutch can be tricky, especially with its sounds, but you’re not giving up, and that’s what matters.”

Y/N exhaled slowly, rubbing her temples. It had been one of those days—between working on the language and managing the quiet space Max left behind when he was away, the weight of it all was starting to wear on her. “I don’t know... I keep stumbling over the same words, Anne. Like, I feel like I’m so close to getting it, but then I hear myself speak Dutch, and it just sounds... off. I’m trying, but it’s hard to know if I’m really improving.”

Anne smiled gently from the screen, as though she understood exactly where Y/N was coming from. “That’s completely normal. Language learning isn’t a straight path. There are ups and downs, but the key is to be patient with yourself. Remember, it’s not about perfection—it’s about progress. You’re already doing so much more than most people would.”

“I guess so.” Y/N’s voice softened, her eyes drifting away for a moment, lost in thought. “I just wish I could see it, you know? Max always speaks so fluently, and when he says something sweet in Dutch, it sounds so effortless. I want to understand it all, to be able to speak with him like that without stumbling or needing translations.”

Anne nodded, her face sympathetic. “I get that. You want to connect with him in the language that’s so familiar to him, and that’s a beautiful thing. But don’t forget, language is just one part of communication. Max will appreciate your effort no matter where you are in your learning. It’s about the intention, the heart behind it. And besides, if you’re working hard at it, he’ll see that.”

Y/N let out a small sigh, leaning forward in her chair and running a hand through her hair. “I just want him to know how much I’m trying. I know it’s hard for him when the season gets tough, and I want to be able to understand him better, not just the words, but how he’s feeling... especially when he gets frustrated. I want to be able to share those moments with him in his language.” She looked back up at Anne, a mixture of fatigue and determination in her eyes. "But it's like I'm still learning a whole new world, Anne. It's a lot to take in."

Anne’s expression softened even more. “Learning a language is like learning a new way to see the world. And you’re doing it for the right reasons. Max will notice that. Even if you don’t think you’re where you want to be yet, he’s going to appreciate your effort, your commitment to him and to his language. And you’re already showing him that you care in ways most people wouldn’t.”

Y/N gave a faint smile, feeling the weight of Anne’s words settle into her. She took another deep breath, her gaze flickering back to the screen. “I hope so. I’m doing this for him, and... for me, too. It’s just hard to see the progress sometimes when you’re so deep in it.”

“Well, keep at it, Y/N,” Anne encouraged again, her voice gentle but firm. “The progress is there, even when you can’t see it. And remember, when Max comes back, you’ll have a whole new way of connecting. That’s something special. Now, how about we wrap up for today, and next time, we focus on a few of those tricky sounds you’ve been stumbling over?”

Y/N nodded, the exhaustion beginning to fade as she felt a renewed sense of determination wash over her. "Yeah, let’s do that. Thanks, Anne. Really."

Anne smiled warmly, her tone softening. “Good night, Y/N. You’re doing great. Keep going, and keep believing in yourself.”

With that, the call ended, leaving Y/N in the quiet of her room. As the screen went dark, she sat still for a moment, letting Anne’s words settle into her. She still had a long way to go with Dutch, but now, she felt a little less weighed down by it all. She stood up from the desk, stretched, and with a deep breath, made her way to the kitchen. There was more to learn, yes, but she could do it. For Max. And for herself

This had become her routine for the past few weeks—immersing herself in a new language while navigating the emotional ups and downs of Max's racing career. Each night flowed into the next, filled with lessons and the hope that her efforts would spark joy in him when he returned. In a way, she couldn’t help but feel that this small adventure might not only help her connect with him in a deeper way but also serve as a reminder that even in tough times, he had someone in his corner—someone ready to support him and learn alongside him.

Time passed, and soon enough, the hectic three-race weekend was behind them.

Y/N wasn’t exactly sure when Max would be home. The unpredictable nature of his F1 schedule made it hard to keep track of his exact arrival time. As the hours stretched on, she decided to make the most of the quiet afternoon. She started by tidying up the house, picking up scattered race memorabilia and smoothing out the couch cushions, which always seemed to get tossed around after a long weekend of travel. The kitchen was next—dishes stacked in the sink, a few crumbs left from breakfast, and the faint scent of coffee lingering in the air. She cleaned with a kind of absent-minded rhythm, her thoughts drifting between the tasks at hand and the excitement of his return.

Not wanting to spend the whole day indoors, Y/N grabbed her coat, slipped into her shoes, and decided to run a few errands to break the monotony. She mentally made a list of things she needed—a trip to the grocery store for fresh produce, perhaps a quick stop at the florist to pick up some flowers for the dining table. The gentle hum of the city as she walked outside felt like a welcome distraction. As she moved through the familiar streets, her mind kept drifting to Max—imagining his arrival later that evening and wondering how he would feel after the intense race weekend. With a small smile, she pushed the thought aside. There were errands to run, and time had a way of slipping by faster when you were busy.

After a while, Y/N decided it was time to head back home, the errands and quiet city stroll leaving her feeling a bit more tired than usual. The exhaustion crept up slowly, settling into her bones in the best way—a peaceful kind of tiredness that made the thought of being home all the more appealing. Once she stepped inside, she kicked off her shoes by the door and shrugged off her jacket, instantly feeling the comfort of her own space wrap around her.

She sank onto the couch, letting the weight of the day melt away, but it wasn’t long before she found herself wanting to do something—something simple and familiar to bring a sense of warmth and routine to the day. The kitchen seemed like the perfect place. She stepped into the kitchen, the warmth of the space a comforting contrast to the quiet of the house. Her mind immediately wandered to dessert—something sweet to fill the silence. Pulling out her phone, she swiped through a few recipe sites, curiosity leading her fingers. After a moment, she typed "Dutch desserts" into the search bar. Her eyes quickly landed on appeltaart, the iconic Dutch apple pie. The thought of the rich, spiced apples wrapped in buttery crust made her stomach rumble. It was exactly what the moment called for.

With a smile, she set the phone down and rolled up her sleeves. The comforting hum of her favorite playlist began to fill the room, chasing away the silence and replacing it with familiar tunes. As the music flowed through the speakers, she started pulling ingredients from the pantry—flour, sugar, butter, and cinnamon. She paused for a moment, letting the soft beat of the song take over as she laid everything out on the counter. The scent of cinnamon already began to stir a feeling of warmth and anticipation.

With a deep breath, she moved into the rhythm of the recipe, the steady motion of measuring, mixing, and prepping grounding her. She could already picture the golden crust and warm, sweet filling that would soon fill the kitchen, and her heart swelled with a sense of simple joy.

As she hummed softly to the tune playing in the background, completely engrossed in the rhythm of her mixing and the warmth of the kitchen, she remained oblivious to Max stepping through the front door, his footsteps barely audible on the hardwood floor. Max paused for a moment, his eyes scanning the room before he crept quietly toward the kitchen, careful not to make a sound. He peeked around the corner, his gaze falling on you as you worked your magic, your movements fluid and focused. A smile tugged at his lips as the sweet scent of apple pie hit him, and he inhaled deeply, savoring the warm, comforting aroma that filled the air.

Max moved silently behind her, his steps light as he closed the distance between them. With a smile, he slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her close against him. He rested his chin on her shoulder for a moment, savoring the warmth of her presence, before pressing a tender kiss to her soft skin. As he inhaled the sweet scent of the kitchen, his lips brushed her shoulder, and he murmured in a low, appreciative voice, "Smells amazing."

The unexpected touch causes her to flinch, a small gasp escaping her as she instinctively tenses, but her body quickly relaxes when she turns to find Max standing there. A soft smile tugs at her lips as she meets his gaze. "I didn't hear you come in," she murmurs, her voice gentle and warm as she leans slightly into his embrace, feeling the comforting weight of his presence. She glances toward the counter, her hands still lightly dusted with flour, and then looks back at him, her eyes sparkling with a mix of affection and pride. "I made apple—" Her words falter for a brief moment, and she pauses, taking a breath before finishing with a playful smile, "Ik heb appeltaart gemaakt." (i made apple pie) She lets the Dutch phrase roll off her tongue with a touch of pride, her eyes lighting up as she anticipates his reaction to the homemade treat and at the sudden Dutch.

Max chuckles, the sound warm and teasing. "Oh, dus je spreekt nu Nederlands?" (Oh, so you speak Dutch now?) His eyes narrow playfully as he takes her in, studying her with a hint of disbelief, almost as if he couldn't quite believe what he'd just heard. It takes a moment for her to process his words, the surprise registering on her face before a grin tugs at her lips. She lets out a soft laugh, shaking her head slightly as she meets his gaze. “Leren voor jou,” she responds with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, her voice light and teasing as she repeats the phrase—"Learning for you."

Max hums contentedly into her skin, his voice soft but filled with affection. "What did I ever do to deserve you?" His words are a gentle murmur, as though he's savoring the moment. She chuckles, the sound warm and light, as she wipes her hands on a nearby towel. Without missing a beat, she spins around, her eyes sparkling, and wraps her arms around him in a tight embrace. "I've missed you," she whispers into his chest, her voice filled with sincerity, as if the distance between them had only made her feelings stronger.

He gently pulls away, his hands lingering at her waist as he looks down at her, his eyes soft with affection. There’s a quiet warmth in his gaze, a tenderness that makes his heart swell with emotion. "I've missed you too," he murmurs, his voice low and sincere, the words wrapped in a quiet vulnerability. He smiles, a soft, almost teasing glint in his eyes as he adds, "Mijntje," (my little one), his tone filled with both love and playfulness. With a tender sigh, he leans down, his face drawing closer to hers. As he lowers himself, he brushes his lips gently against hers, the kiss soft and lingering, a promise of everything he feels for her in that quiet, intimate moment.

She pulls back just enough to look into his eyes, her breath catching in the space between them. Her heart races, each beat carrying the weight of everything she feels for him. Her hands rest gently on his chest as she searches his gaze, finding warmth, safety, and a quiet promise there. With a soft sigh, she leans in just a little closer, her lips barely brushing his as she whispers, her voice trembling with sincerity, "Ik hou van jou."

The words, though soft, are heavy with all the emotions she can't quite put into words—years of trust, laughter, passion, and quiet moments, all wrapped in those simple yet profound syllables. His breath hitches, and a smile plays on his lips as he leans in, closing the small space between them with a kiss that feels like both a promise and a beginning. There’s a warmth radiating between them, an unspoken yearning that lingers in the air, electrifying yet restrained. The kiss deepens, lingering just a moment longer, igniting a flutter of anticipation in her chest—a taste of what could be. As they pull away, their eyes lock, and in that shared gaze lies a world of possibilities, a silent acknowledgment of the passion that awaits them.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

tag list : @heluvsjappie

#f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x y/n #f1 fluff #f1 x y/n #f1 x female reader #f1 x you #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 fanfic #mv1 x reader #mv1 x y/n #jzprncess

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cedarmoonzz · 8 months ago

Note

Hello! I was wondering if I could request a small continuing to your Ford fic? I really enjoyed it and tugged my heart strings. I love you work so much and if your able to do that without any issue, I'd love that!😭💜

yes! i love that six fingered cartoon dilf with every fiber of my being!

once more to see you •｡ꪆৎ ˚

continuation of: between the bars followed by: slow like honey

fandom: gravity falls

ship: ford x reader

content: angst, stanford's poor attempt at comfort lol

summary: when your fiancé’s episodes of paranoia spiral out of control, you come to a difficult realization.

You’ve always seen yourself as someone grounded in logic. Pragmatic to the bone, you’ve relied on reason and science to navigate life, finding comfort in facts and the concrete reality they bring. But lately, that sense of security has started to unravel.

The cabin was frigid, its icy air wrapping around you like a shroud, seeping into your very bones despite your efforts to ward off the chill. The socks you wore—a secret purchase made without Stanford’s knowledge—offered little warmth, though they greatly softened the sound of your steps as you quietly drifted from the bedroom to the kitchen, then to the closet, nursing your third cup of coffee that night. Each breath you took was quick, shallow, as if the cold air was stealing it away. As you finally settled at the desolate kitchen table, a wry thought flickered in your mind: could the layers of plywood and fiberglass beneath you truly muffle the frantic beating of your heart, hiding it from your fiancé’s ever-watchful ear? In your own, the rhythm pounded, echoing like a circle of drums, impossibly loud in the oppressive stillness of the cabin.

Stanford’s paranoia didn’t burst into your lives all at once; it crept in quietly, almost imperceptibly, like a shadow growing longer at dusk. It all began when he developed a peculiar fascination with triangles—a simple, geometric shape that, in his hands, took on a life of its own. He transformed the cabin, once a place of warmth and refuge, into a gallery of trigonometric stained glass, each piece more elaborate, more intricate than the last. At first, you found it endearing, even charming, and you laughed it off as just another of his harmless quirks. You told yourself it was just Stanford being Stanford, his brilliant mind forever chasing new ideas.

But as the days turned into weeks, the triangles began to multiply. Their sharp, precise edges cast strange, fragmented light across your home, turning familiar spaces into something alien, almost unrecognizable. You began to notice how the once-welcoming cabin now felt distorted, its atmosphere thick with an unspoken tension. And yet, you didn’t see it for what it was—not at first. You didn’t want to see it. You told yourself it was just the glass, just the way the light hit it, just the way Stanford was channeling his creativity. You ignored the way your stomach twisted with unease, dismissed the creeping dread that settled in your bones.

You shook your head, trying to banish the haunting thoughts that swirled in your mind. There was no time to dwell on what had already happened; what mattered now was moving forward. Rising from your seat, you made your way to the bedroom you and Ford once shared, a space now overshadowed by his office chair, which had become his sanctuary. You reached into the closet, your fingers brushing against the familiar fabric of your thick army jacket. The worn texture offered a rare comfort, a tangible reminder of a time before everything had shifted. As you fumbled through the pockets, your hand closed around a pack of cigarettes—an old habit you had left behind during your second year of graduate school. A fleeting wave of nostalgia washed over you, mingled with regret for the time lost. You slipped the pack back into your pocket and donned the jacket, its sturdy fabric promising some semblance of protection against the biting night winds and the snow that still whirled outside the closed window.

Your gaze then fell upon your boots, left carelessly on the closet floor, caked in mud from past forest excursions with Stanford. You reached down, lifting them with a mixture of sentiment and practicality. With the boots in hand, you carefully descended the stairs, each step deliberate to avoid the creaking floorboards. At the kitchen door, you set the boots down and slipped them on, their familiar weight grounding you in the present. Quietly, you opened the door, the chill of the night air meeting you as you stepped into the darkness, ready to face whatever lay beyond.

You stood on the porch of your home, clad in baggy sweatpants, an oversized coat, and your old brown army boots. The cold night air wrapped around you, but the weight of the familiar clothing offered a small measure of comfort. You instinctively reached into your pocket, a gesture that felt oddly nostalgic, like reconnecting with a part of yourself that had been missing. Pulling out a cigarette, you brought it to your lips, and then you fumbled into your other pocket, searching for a long-abandoned lighter. Your fingers brushed against the cold metal as you hoped to find one still with fluid.

After a moment of fishing, you finally found it. With a deep breath, you shut your eyes, the cigarette resting between your fingers as you brought the lighter to your face. The small flame flickered to life, illuminating your face in the darkness as you lit your former vice. You’d given up smoking years ago, recognizing it as a bad coping mechanism, though it had always managed to calm your nerves better than any of the so-called remedies Stanford had suggested—yoga, green tea, or otherwise. Stanford had never missed an opportunity to chide you about it, yet in moments like these, when the world felt overwhelming and uncertain, the familiar warmth of the smoke provided a fleeting solace, a small rebellion against the chaos of your thoughts.

You couldn’t shake the image of your fiancé from your mind. The one person you had always relied on as your rock, your steadfast partner in all things logical and real, now seemed a stranger. He had become obsessed, shining a flashlight into your eyes, searching for something hidden in the depths of your pupils. Each time that harsh beam flickers across your eyes, it chips away at your sense of reality, leaving you to wonder if his strange behavior is a sign of something far darker lurking beneath the surface. The familiar comfort of the cigarette seemed almost to mock the confusion and dread that now defined your days, as if trying to find stability in a world that had become increasingly alien.

“[Y/n].” Ford’s voice sliced through your reverie, its suddenness filling you with an indescribable anxiety. The feeling was sharp and unsettling, a gnawing presence that you couldn't quite classify as rational or otherwise. It wrapped around you like a cold fog, clouding your thoughts and intensifying the sense of disorientation that had already taken root.

He stood behind you in the doorway, the light from behind casting a soft, almost ethereal glow around him. From this angle, you might have thought he looked perfect, a vision of calm and composure that seemed untouched by the chaos of your shared reality. The gentle halo of light made him appear almost otherworldly, a serene figure caught in a moment of stillness.

Yet, his appearance betrayed a different story. His hair was frantic and messy, a wild tangle of curls that seemed to reflect his inner turmoil. The bags under his eyes had deepened, etched by sleepless nights and relentless stress. Despite the disarray, there was a softness in his gaze, a look of tenderness you had missed with all your heart. It was a fleeting reminder of the warmth and affection that once defined your relationship, now overshadowed by the encroaching distance and disquiet that had come to dominate your lives.

You had tried so damn hard to stay quiet, to remain out of his way. You'd let him overwork himself to the bone if that’s what he wanted, even though it felt like a slow erosion of everything you once knew. You’d had the argument too many times to care by now, the words always seeming to fall on deaf ears. All you wanted was to avoid the inevitable confrontation, to give him space, even as his obsessive behavior grew ever more unsettling.

"Stanford," was all you said in response, your voice barely more than a whisper. You lifted the cigarette from your lips, the smoke pooling around you like a hazy veil. As you exhaled, you cast a glance up the staircase, the familiar sight offering no answers, only a silent reminder of the space between you both.

“You’ve started smoking again,” he observed, his tone carrying a note of quiet surprise. The statement lingered in the air, the drifting smoke accentuating the distance between you. It was as if the sight of the cigarette in your hand was a reflection of the changes he could no longer ignore.

“Didn’t think you’d notice.”

The cigarette met your lips once more. You took a long drag, the smoke filling your lungs as your eyes remained locked with his. In that moment, it felt as if time itself had frozen, leaving you both suspended in the delicate space between old familiarity and the evolving distance that now defined your relationship.

“Of course I would,” he said, his voice carrying a soft tinge of regret.

You dropped the cigarette into the snow, watching as it hissed and sizzled against the cold ground. With a decisive step, you crushed it underfoot, pressing it into the snow for good measure. The smoldering embers were quickly extinguished, leaving only a faint trace of smoke lingering in the frosty air.

“Sorry,” was all you could manage to utter, the word feeling woefully inadequate in the weight of the moment. It hung between you, a simple apology for the complexities that neither of you could fully address.

“It’s cold. You’ll catch your death out here,” he muttered, his voice laced with a blend of concern and weariness. He stepped aside from the doorway, making way for you with a gentle gesture. The warmth from inside seemed to beckon, a stark contrast to the frigid night air.

You looked into his eyes, and he stared back, the moment stretching between you as if everything else had come to a halt. The world outside faded into a blur as snapshots of your relationship flickered through your mind—moments of laughter, shared dreams, and fleeting happiness. With each memory, you found yourself questioning what had gone wrong, what could have been different, and what measures you might have taken to alter the course of events.

In the midst of that frozen silence, a question slipped from your lips before you could even stop yourself: “Ford, are you still in love with me?” The words hung in the air, unexpected and raw, their weight adding a new layer of complexity to the already tense moment.

His head snapped towards you, eyes widening with a shock that seemed to crystallize in the cold night air. His gaze pierced into yours with a fierce intensity, as if your question had struck a chord deep within him. His eyebrows knit together in a furrow of confusion and apprehension, while his mouth tightened into a thin, resolute line. The change in his demeanor was palpable; his posture straightened as though he were bracing himself for a storm.

With a determined stride, he marched to stand beside you in the snow, the door to the house slamming shut behind him with a resonant thud that echoed through the night. The two of you stood together, the moonlight casting a ghostly glow upon the snow, which reflected a bluish light that danced across the scene. The snow-covered ground sparkled faintly, but the surrounding darkness clung to you both like a shroud.

He stared down at you as you stared at your feet, standing only an arm's length away, the proximity intimate and charged. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. The only sound was the soft shushing of dormant branches swaying in the wind, their gentle rustling mingling with the quiet stillness of the night. The cold air wrapped around you both, creating a palpable silence that stretched between you, broken only by the occasional whisper of the wind through the snow-laden trees.

His hand reached out, fingers closing gently around your chin. With a deliberate motion, he angled your gaze upward, drawing your eyes away from the snowy expanse at your feet and into his. The touch was firm yet tender, guiding your focus to the depth of his own eyes. It was just like he used to do moments before he pressed his lips against yours.

Your eyes met his, and in that brief, suspended moment, you saw the glistening, unshed tears pooling in his gaze. They shimmered in pale light of the moon, their potential to fall betraying the fragile veneer of his composure. The raw, unguarded emotion in his eyes was a stark contrast to his usual facade, revealing a depth of sorrow and vulnerability that seemed to unravel the very essence of his being.

“Don’t you ever ask that again,” his voice cracked, the words trembling as they escaped his lips. He leaned forward, resting his forehead gently against yours, the closeness both intimate and overwhelming. In that tender contact, you felt a deep ache, missing his touch more than you had admitted to yourself. The warmth of his skin against yours, the vulnerability that he seldom showed, was a poignant reminder of what you had longed for but also feared.

Your breath caught in your throat, the tightness nearly choking you as emotions surged within, rendering you on the brink of tears. Frustration twisted inside you, mingling with a deep-seated ache as you grappled with having surrendered so effortlessly to the solace of his presence. The warmth of Ford’s touch, so familiar and comforting, had shattered your defenses with an almost unbearable intimacy.

In that raw, exposed moment, you recognized a profound truth: you loved Ford with a depth that went beyond reason. You understood him completely, and you would remain steadfast by his side. Even if it meant losing yourself in the process, he would always draw you in. It was a certainty you could not escape.

#ford pines x reader #gravity falls #angst #gravity falls x reader #stanford pines #stanford pines x reader #bill cipher #mitski

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itsmywritingtime · 1 month ago

Text

One-Sided Competition 💴

Catching someone’s stare from across a crowded room was typically romantic. A sign of some sort of affection, that out of everyone, they were choosing to put their focus on you.

However, the look in Ruggie’s eyes was anything but.

You searched your mind for anything you could have possibly done to upset the boy. When you couldn’t identify anything, you shrugged it off and bit into your sub.

The cafeteria ghosts had given it to you after you had struck a deal. You helped them unload and package food and they would give you a little extra during lunch. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t the most balanced deal, but you would take whatever was given to you. And these sandwiches were quite delicious, so it was all worth it.

Ruggie had been having the worst month of his life.

It was normal for him to be spending his free-time taking up random jobs around campus for a little extra cash. However, in the last month, it seemed like the amount of opportunities dwindled.

It had first started when he went to Sam’s Shop. Sam had gladly accepted him when he asked for a side gig. Yet, he rarely if ever got a call. If he ever worked it was only for a few hours at a time and sporadic at best. The employee discount was barely worth it.

Annoyed at his lack of hours, Ruggie had paid Sam a visit. It was a Sunday afternoon, one of the busiest days of the week. Everyone tended to gravitate towards the shop on that day, gathering last minute supplies for a project, buying groceries for the week, and everything of the sort. To his surprise, there was no packed shop like there typically was.

Meandering his way in, he was even more shocked to see the store almost empty. A customer walked past him as he peeked at the cashier, expecting it to be Sam, but it was you.

You greeted the next customer in line with a smile, making small talk, and sending them on their way in record time. Ruggie could only silently stare.

So this was the thing taking away all his hours.

“What can I get for you for you, Little Imp?” Ruggie almost jumped as Sam appeared behind him.

Sam didn’t like loiterers, so hesitantly, Ruggie bought the cheapest thing he could find and made his way over to you.

And damn. As much as he hated to admit it. You were good.

Though, that was okay. He had other opportunities.

Azul had never failed to set Ruggie up with work. They worked quite well together after all.

But, whenever he was called in to work, you were always there.

It was almost like a switch flipped after Azul’s overblot. Going from enemies to employer and employee without any pause.

Perhaps that was why Azul kept you around, with a handful of overblots underneath your belt, you knew how to navigate difficult situations and be innovative when dealing with rude customers.

Whether it be a busy evening or a slow weekday. You never failed to be in a Octavinelle uniform, serving and taking orders with a smile. He started to dislike that bright smile of yours.

The students of NCR were very stingy when it came to giving tips. Whether it was because the students did not have enough money to hand over any tips or they simply were asses, it was overall rare for him to get a thaumarks that weren't from the paycheck that Azul gave him. His reputation didn't do him any favors.

But even so, it seemed like you never left a shift without a few extra thaumarks in your pockets from patrons that took a liking to you.

Azul, being the shrewd businessman he was, took notice of your success in the waitering area of your expertise.

Ruggie couldn't call Azul out due to his lack of evidence (and he couldn't afford to lose the gig), but he swore that the housewarden favored you in some sort of way. Furthermore, the two morays tended to flock towards you one way or another.

It had hit Ruggie early on that you had somehow managed to have a emptier schedule than him. He still had spelldrive practice and errands for Leona to deal with, yet it seemed you were freer than a bird after classes ended for the day.

Well. That was fine. There were other opportunities outside NRC.

Ruggie didn’t make a habit of searching for work outside of the school ground, there was typically nothing available, but when push comes to shove!

Craneport wasn't as popular and bustling as it used to be, but there had to be at least one opening for him, however infrequent it may be. Anything would be good!

A cargo ship was pulled up to one of the docks. He could see a few workers coming and going, picking up and moving creates. He could feel a grin growing on his face at his luck. Ruggie wasn't exactly the most physically strong, but he was almost positive that they would take a spry student like him (that they could pay a little less), over any older guy.

As he took a step toward the ship, another person emerged, carrying a wooden crate almost twice their size.

Ruggie felt his composure snap.

YOU WERE HERE TOO?

The crate was placed down with a 'SLAM'. You huffed and wiped your forehead with the sleeve of your forearm. You looked up, observing your surroundings, you thought you had felt someone looking at you.

Must have been your imagination.

Ruggie stomped back to the bus stop, fishing around his pocket for some loose change.

In the time it took him to make his way to the stop, he had already made up his mind.

If it was going to be like that, so be it. He was not unfamiliar with competition. This meant war.

⋆

So back to present day, there he was, making this one-sided war known, by staring daggers into the back of your head as you, blissfully unaware, ate your lunch.

He fully intended on winning.

TLDR: Two poor people compete against each other rather than the system that put them there. sigh… /j

Note: This is my first time writing Ruggie like ever. But practice makes perfect!

#Twisted wonderland #Ruggie bucchi #twst ruggie #twisted wonderland x reader #ruggie bucci X reader #Ruggie X reader #itsmywritingtime

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badkitty3000 · 25 days ago

Text

The Bodyguard

Chapters 1 and 2

Chapter 3 ->

Chapters 4 and 5 ->

Chapter 6 ->

Chapter 7 (final) ->

Five Hargreeves x female reader, multi-chapter, request

Summary: Five is hired to protect you, a professional ballet dancer, from an obsessive stalker. As the threat from the stalker escalates, Five must navigate his growing feelings for you while keeping you safe

Warnings: Smut, rough sex, choking, bathtub sex, after care

A/N: This was sent as a request for Five romantically linked to a ballerina. It quickly evolved into a crazy story involving a stalker, and turned into a multi-chapter saga. In true Bad Kitty form, it will entail smut and romance and all the good stuff. And yes, it is very loosely based on the great 90's movie of the same name

I will probably post new chapters every couple of days or so, but I don't have a set schedule. Let me know if you want to be added or dropped from my tag list

Thank you to everyone that continues to be interested in my fics. You all are amazing! ❤️😽

Chapter 1: The Ballerina

Five sat in the dingy private investigator’s office, across from the sad and bloated looking man who was interviewing him. As the man droned on in a monotonous tone about sick days (there weren’t any) and health benefits (there weren’t any), Five flexed and unflexed his hand against his thigh in an effort not to walk out of there.

He needed a job. And not just some shitty job cleaning floors or bussing tables. He needed some actual money so he could get an actual apartment and not live in the actual hell he was currently living in.

After he saved the world, and his family was safe, they had been left to fend for themselves. They had their powers, but that didn’t really mean anything in the grand scheme of things. Turns out when you aren’t being manipulated and corralled into superhero fame by your overly ambitious father, no one seems to give a shit if you can teleport or throw knives or commune with the dead. At least not in any way that’s lucrative. It’s an entertaining party trick at best.

So, against his better judgment, Five found himself once again living in an abandoned hellscape. Only instead of an empty world caused by an apocalypse, it was the empty shell of the Umbrella Academy. It was sad and depressing, and not very comfortable, but he would be damned if he was going to shack up with one of his siblings. As far as Five was concerned, that wasn’t even an option.

When Five had figured out a way back to their correct and rightful timeline, he managed to jump them all there safely, including Lila and Sloane. He even figured out a way to age himself up a few years so that he could pass as a young adult and not an adolescent. The only thing he managed to botch this time was arriving one year after their father killed himself, instead of the one day he was aiming for. During that time, the Academy had fallen into disrepair. There had been no signs of Pogo or Grace.

His siblings dispersed to try and fit back into their old lives, or find new ones for themselves. Each one of them asked Five to come with them, but he declined. He wasn’t some kid that needed charity. He could take care of himself. He’d done it for years.

It was now six months later, and Five had not made much progress. He lived inside the dilapidated mansion, roaming around like a ghost that couldn’t move on. He sold some things that were of value that hadn’t been looted, or were hidden away, so that he had enough money to buy food (and booze) and the bespoke suits he had a penchant for. But getting an actual job when you had no credentials to your name, not even a driver’s license, was more difficult than he had thought. Combine that with his baby face and no one took him seriously. No one with any real clout, anyway.

Which is what brought him to this rundown office building he was sitting in today. Klaus was the one that got him the interview, so Five shouldn’t be surprised it wasn’t exactly a high-end joint.

“Anyway, that’s about it,” the tired man said to Five before taking a sip of what had to have been some very stale coffee in a paper cup. “It’s a private security detail. One client. Just have to make sure she gets to and from work ok, and check around her house for creeps. Pretty straight forward.”

“So, I’m a bodyguard?” Five asked suspiciously.

The man shrugged. “I guess if you want to think of it that way. And we’ll give you a car, so add chauffeur in there, too.” He paused. “You got a license, right?”

“I do,” Five answered, which wasn’t a lie. He had a license. It just wasn’t legit. But he could drive, so he figured that was all that mattered.

The guy eyed Five up and smirked. “Luckily we don’t guarantee complete safety, which is why we’re dirt cheap compared to some other places.”

“Why luckily?” Five asked, his eyes narrowing.

The man’s large shoulders moved up and down again with apathy. “You know. You’re not exactly built like Arnold Schwartzenegger, you know what I mean?”

Five nodded slowly. “Sure. But I got the job?”

“Yeah, you got the job. But I will need to make sure you can handle a gun before I send you out there. Legality thing, you know?”

The man reached into a drawer of his beat up desk and pulled out a revolver. Five watched silently as he loaded a few rounds into the chambers and checked it over a few times. He held it up to Five.

“You know what this is?”

“A gun?” Five ventured, just to be a prick.

The man rolled his eyes. “I mean do you know what type it is?”

Five sighed. “A .357 Magnum revolver,” he answered in a bored tone.

The man’s eyebrows raised. “Yeah, that’s right. Have you used one before?”

“A time or two.”

“Now, I’m gonna need to make sure you know how to use it properly.” He handed it over the desk for Five to take it from him. “See how it feels in your hand.”

Five looked the gun over, making a show of feeling the weight of it.

“Feel comfortable?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Five nodded with a smile, right before he turned in his seat and aimed the revolver at the door to the office that he knew led to the back alley.

Before the other man could say anything, Five shot one precise bullet directly into the doorknob, blasting a hole right through it, but leaving the door intact. The noise inside the tiny office was deafening but Five didn’t flinch. Instead, he thoughtfully looked the gun over again, nodded a few times, and set it back on the desk.

“So, I got the job, right?” he asked again, this time standing up and peering down at the man who was still gaping at him while sitting at his desk. Five stuck his hands in his pants pockets and waited for an answer.

“Y-yes, yeah, you got the job,” the man stuttered before clearing his throat and passing a hand over his bald head. He stared at the neatly massacred doorknob. Then he reached over and handed Five a large envelope containing all the specifics of the job. “Here you go. You start tomorrow.”

“And when do I get paid?” Five asked while taking the envelope from him.

“Uh… every Friday.”

Five nodded, already on his way to the door. “Great.” He stopped and turned again. “I’ll need the keys to the car.”

“Oh right!” The man dug around in the desk drawer again before pulling out a set of keys. He tossed them to Five. “Here you go. Black SUV. Parked out back.” As Five caught the keys and turned to leave, his new boss spoke again. “Let me know if you have any questions.”

“I won’t,” Five answered over his shoulder as he walked out, letting the door slam shut behind him.

**************************************

Later that day, Five was poring over the documents inside the envelope. Sitting at the precariously balanced table where he once ate his mom’s smiley face pancake breakfasts, he grimaced and tipped back his third beer of the night.

“What a crock of shit,” he said to himself, his voice echoing off the bare, cement walls.

The envelope held a few documents and legally binding contracts from the security company. From what Five could gather, his new “asset” was a young ballet dancer that was requesting a private security guard for herself. From the sounds of it, she had a stalker, and despite a restraining order, she was afraid for her safety.

Enter Five.

He tossed the papers to the side and sighed, taking a look around him. God, he hated it there. He needed to get out. Even if it was some equally shitty apartment, anything was better than the Academy.

So, if he had to put up with some stuck up ballerina princess in a frilly tutu, then he could do that. He figured if he hung in there for a couple months, played by the rules and collected his weekly pay, he’d have enough to get out of this shit hole. He just had to play his cards right, make nice, and not piss anybody off. He could do that. Piece of cake.

***************************

“Where the hell is this lady?” Five grumbled to himself as he stood outside of the black SUV the security company had assigned him.

He was waiting outside of the address he had been given, where this supposed prestigious dancer lived. It was a giant mansion, set back off the road, with a long, winding driveway that led to the house. Five had turned into the circle drive near the front entrance, cutting off the engine and staring up at the ivy-covered stone and brick exterior. The grand, heavy oak double doors at the top of a set of wide steps were flanked by two large, snarling lion statues.

Five had sighed heavily before getting out of the car and standing next to it. He had been told not to bother knocking; that she would come out on her own at 7:00am.

He checked his watch. It was 7:06. He rolled his eyes and leaned back against the car. “Figures,” he muttered.

At 7:09, one of the doors to the house flew open, banging loudly, as you rushed out, carrying two large gym bags in one hand and a travel mug with your breakfast smoothie in the other. A set of keys dangled from your hand holding the drink, and a pair of sunglasses were perched crookedly on top of your head.

As you tried to close and lock the door behind you, you wrestled with your bags and almost spilled your drink, all while swearing and kicking at the door.

“Stupid… fucking… dumb door never wants to close… piece of shit key… who designed this…“

When you finally got the door closed and locked, you turned to face Five who had been watching all of this go down with a stunned expression. You blushed and then smiled.

“Uh… sorry,” you said nervously. You hoisted your bags up again and made your way down the steps. “The stupid door never wants to lock properly.”

Five realized, a minute too late, that he probably should have helped you with your bags. Instead, he just watched you bumbling around like some sort of cartoon character until you reached the car. You plopped the bags on the ground near Five’s feet.

With a loud exhale, you extended your hand and introduced yourself. “Hi. You must be the guy the security company sent?”

Five took your hand in his, shaking it once before dropping it again. “Five Hargreeves. Nice to meet you.”

Five ran through a kind of inventory of you in his mind. It was a habit he held onto from his assassin days. An immediate assessment of his target.

Slim but toned. Cute face. The tight bun on top of her head is kind of cliche, but whatever. Gray sweatpants, black leotard. Nice enough rack. Scuffed up tennis shoes. A voice that isn’t too annoying. Clearly a disorganized mess though. But all in all, could be worse.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” you gushed. “I couldn’t find my shoes and the blender top flew off while I was making my smoothie, so then I had to clean that up, which was super fun, and then –”

Five cut you off with a hand gesture. “It’s fine,” he said, although he didn’t look like he thought it was fine. He looked irritated.

“Ok,” you said, silently telling yourself to shut the hell up. You looked at the SUV he was standing next to. When he noticed, he seemed to remember why he was there in the first place and opened the back passenger door for you. “Thank you,” you said as you climbed in.

Five flung your bags into the trunk, making note of their weight and how you must be a lot stronger than you look to be hauling those things around. As he came around to the driver’s side, he slid in and started the engine. Before putting the car in drive, he turned in his seat to face you.

“You know, you shouldn’t be just hopping into strange men’s cars like this.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“You have no idea who I am. You didn’t ask for any form of ID or other proof that I’m who I say I am. Anybody can wear a suit and drive a black SUV.”

“Oh… “ you stammered. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Well, do you have any ID?”

Five sighed. “Well, it’s kind of late for that now, isn’t it? You already got in the car. I could be driving you off somewhere to murder you, chop you up into little pieces, and dump your body parts in a field.”

You looked nervously out the window and your hand came to rest on the door handle. The doors automatically locked with a loud click and you jumped.

“See?” Five said, with his finger on the lock button. “Don’t you have a stalker that I’m supposed to be protecting you from?”

You nodded slowly.

“Well, based on this first impression, I’d say he’s pretty fucking dumb, because you are extremely easy to catch.”

Your mouth hung open and you slow-blinked as you tried to say something in your defense, but everything he was saying made sense. That, and he was kind of scaring the crap out of you.

Five reached over into the glove compartment, and pulled out a piece of paper and a plastic-covered badge attached to a lanyard. He handed them over to you.

“There. Here’s proof I am who I say I am, even though you apparently don’t care.”

You took the items from him, skimming the paper first. It was a signed document from the security agency with their official seal at the top, assigning a Number Five Hargreeves to be your personal security detail. It looked legit. Next, you studied the ID. It was a picture of Five, looking like he would rather be doing just about anything than getting his picture taken, along with his name, title, and some sort of employee number underneath it. It also bore the seal of the agency.

You handed them back to him. “Thank you, I appreciate you showing those to me. You’re right, I shouldn’t have trusted you so easily.”

Five shoved them back in the glove compartment and closed it. “No, you shouldn’t have.”

As he put the car in gear and headed down your driveway, you leaned forward in your seat. “If you’re so intent on making sure I know who you are, why aren’t you wearing your badge around your neck so that I can see it?”

There was a pause. “Because I try not to look like an asshole and wearing that badge around my neck won’t be doing me any favors.”

You sat back in your seat, grabbing your smoothie and rolling your eyes before taking a sip. Well this guy’s a real charmer, you thought to yourself. At least he’s kind of nice to look at.

Your dance studio was about thirty minutes away, and the car was awkwardly quiet as Five drove. You cleared your throat a couple times, but he seemed to ignore you.

“Do you want to turn the radio on?” you suggested.

“Not really.”

You sat there for a minute, pondering. “You know, I did do some research on you beforehand, so I’m not a complete moron. The agency had given me your name. I know you were one of the Umbrella Academy kids and that you can teleport. That must be pretty cool.”

There was no answer from the front, so you tried again. “So what was it like growing up with–”

“Reginald? Not great, actually,” Five interrupted, clearly annoyed with your question.

You bristled at his continued rudeness. “I was going to say Allison Hargreeves, the actress, actually.”

“Oh,” he said, and you saw his eyebrows furrow together in the rearview mirror.

“I love all her movies, especially that last one she did, that rom-com?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Is she nice?” you asked, still trying to break the ice.

“Is Allison nice?” Five asked in return.

“Yeah. You know, she’s so famous and high-class. I always wonder what celebrities are like in real life.”

There was a long pause before he answered. “She’s an idiot. All of my siblings are idiots.”

“Oh,” you said, sinking back in your seat. After thinking for a minute, you sat forward again. “You know, you’re not very nice.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “No, I’m really not.”

For the next ten minutes, you gave up trying to converse with Five. But then out of the blue, he spoke up.

“So, I read about this stalker guy of yours.”

You weren’t sure if he was going to say something snarky again, so you hesitated. “Oh… ok.”

“They sent me a file on him. Sounds like a real creep. I understand why you would want to hire someone.”

“Oh,” you breathed out, relieved. “Yeah, it’s not been a fun few months, that’s for sure.”

“So what happened? He fall in love with you at a ballet recital or something?”

You let out a little snort of laughter. “Well, first of all, we don’t call them recitals… I’m not six. They are called performances or simply ballet. And yes, that’s kind of what happened. Although I wouldn’t call becoming unhealthily obsessed with someone falling in love.”

“Good point,” Five mused. “But he’s been following you to work?”

“Yes. The studio has stopped letting him in and will call the cops if he tries to, but he still sits in the parking lot in his car waiting for me to walk inside.” You shivered a little. “He just watches me.”

“You have a restraining order, though?”

“Yeah, he’s technically not allowed within a certain radius, but that radius is not very big. And if he stays on public property, there’s not much I can do about it.”

Five nodded. “Does he know where you live?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve never seen him near my house, but I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“Does he go to your performances?”

“Yes. He’s there every single time, rain or shine, sitting in the very last row to comply with the restraining order. He’ll even come to the matinees and return for the evening performances. And he always dresses in a tuxedo and carries a bouquet of flowers that he tosses on stage afterwards.”

“That’s intense. I would imagine that might throw you off your game, knowing that he’s out there.”

“Yeah, sometimes it does,” you admitted. “Which, truthfully, is one of the reasons I wanted to hire you. If I know someone is there keeping an eye on this guy, then I might be able to concentrate on my dancing instead of worrying about what he might do.”

Five’s eyes flitted to the rearview mirror again to look at you. He had nice eyes, you noticed.

“There must be something more. Some reason this guy is freaking you out so badly.”

Your voice got quieter as you answered him. “Well, for the last few weeks he has started sending me letters to the studio.”

“He doesn’t mail them directly to your home?”

You shook your head. “No, thankfully. Now the secretary just throws them directly in the trash when they come through. But I’ve read enough to know what they say.”

“And what do they say?” Five asked.

“They… uh… they say how much he loves me and how much I have changed his life. He says he thinks about me all day and night and knows we would be happy together if I just give him a chance. That he’s not a bad guy, he just loves me so much and I’m not giving him a shot. Sometimes he gets angry because I don’t respond. Sometimes it’s just more rambling.”

“Is that all?”

He must have sensed you were holding something back, which meant he was actually listening to you and was observant.

“No, that’s not all. Sometimes they get very… graphic.”

“Graphic? Like violent?”

“No, more like… explicit.” You blushed a little. “Sexual. All the things he wants to do to me or says he is going to do to me once we are together. It’s all very detailed.” You shuddered at the thought. “It makes me sick.”

“I would imagine,” Five said with a small nod.

He didn’t say anything else on the subject and you didn’t volunteer any more information. Soon, you were arriving at your dance studio. While your first impression of Five wasn’t exactly blowing you away, you did note that he seemed to take his job seriously. When he got out and walked around to your side, he surveyed the parking lot before opening the door for you.

You got out and looked around. When you noticed the familiar dark blue pickup truck parked in the back, occupied by a tall, thin man wearing a baseball cap, you pointed him out to Five.

“There, that’s him.”

Five nodded. “I saw him when I got out. I’ve got my eye on him.”

You smiled. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me. This is what I was hired for,” Five responded, as if that were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Right. Well, can I get my bags then?”

Five hauled your bags out and handed them over to you. “I would carry them for you, but I need my hands free. Just in case.”

You understood what he was saying, and it made sense. If he needed to use a weapon, he couldn’t be carrying two bags stuffed with dance attire and water bottles. As you walked towards the door, Five accompanied you, staying close. You were always observant of how other people carried themselves, probably because you used your body as a way of artistic expression, so you were honed in on others’ body movements as well.

Five held himself confidently, walking swiftly and with purpose. You liked how he matched your stride so that he didn’t stray too far ahead or behind. And you liked how his suit coat brushed against your arm a few times. You stole a couple of quick glances at his face while you were walking, but looked away before he could notice. There was no denying he was handsome.

When you led him inside, this observation was confirmed by the number of sideways glances and outright gawks that he received from the other dancers. Male and female. You kept your head down, embarrassed to be seen with an actual bodyguard in tow, and headed for the locker room to change. As you got to the door, you turned to Five.

“I’m not sure how this works, exactly,” you admitted. “Do you wait here? In the car?”

Five looked around curiously, taking in his surroundings. “I’ll be here, in the building. Don’t worry, I won’t get in the way. I might take a few looks outside periodically, but I won’t stray far.”

“Thank you.” You paused, remembering that you weren’t supposed to thank him. “I rehearse for six hours, though,” you added guiltily.

Five shrugged. “That’s fine. When you’re done, I’ll take you home again.”

“Alright, then,” you said with a nod and a smile. Then you walked into the locker rooms, leaving Five in the hallway.

****************************

Five waited, as he told you he would. He wasn’t exactly thrilled about having to hang around in a dance studio all day, but he was used to having to endure long, boring stretches of time by himself. At least in this case, there were some nice views to be had. Five tried not to be obvious, but the beautifully sculpted bodies that walked past him all day long were not going unnoticed. About halfway through the day, after Five had taken a quick survey of the parking lot, he decided to park himself in front of the window that looked into the large rehearsal room. He didn’t know much about ballet, so he was a little curious about it.

As he stood there, arms folded across his chest, he watched as you and your fellow dancers practiced the same few steps over and over again. The director was demanding perfection each time, and from Five’s point of view, it was perfect. He couldn’t stop staring.

The fluid movements of your body had him transfixed and he kept his eyes on you, ignoring the other dancers twirling around you. You gracefully lept and flew through the air like some sort of beautiful gazelle or mythical fairy creature. You had removed your sweatpants and were wearing a black leotard with gray leg warmers, and of course your pointe shoes that allowed you to dance on your toes.

Your legs were nothing but muscle and sinew, toned and tightened by years of discipline. The way your arms bent and swayed with each movement looked easy and second nature, even though Five knew it must have been incredibly difficult. You made it all appear effortless, and Five found he was staring a little too long, because at one point you turned toward him and caught him. You gave him a small smile before returning to your work, and Five moved to a different area where he wouldn’t be tempted to watch.

On one of his wanderings, he came across photos of the dance company members lining a wall. He paused, glancing over the names and faces, casually looking for yours. It wasn’t hard to find though, because there you were, front and center. A professional headshot of you, larger than the others, was framed in the middle of the wall. Underneath was a small plaque with your name and the number of years you had been with the company. It also read “principal dancer”.

When the day was over, and you had showered in the locker rooms there and changed into clean clothes again, Five led you back to the SUV. Your stalker was still there, waiting in his blue truck, until you were inside the car and then he drove away. It was what he always did. Waited until you were finished with your day and then left. You wondered where he went or where he lived. But you also didn’t really want to know.

As Five drove you back home, it was silent for a while before he spoke up.

“What is a principal dancer?”

You were surprised at first by his question. You didn’t really think he would take an interest in anything personal having to do with you. But he must have seen your photo inside the studio.

“A principal dancer has the highest rank within the dance company,” you explained, feeling your face flush a little. “Sometimes they’re called prima ballerinas.”

Five took that in for a second. “So, you’re the best dancer?”

You laughed. “I wouldn’t say I’m the best, necessarily, but I’ve definitely paid my dues. There are many talented dancers in our company.”

“But not as good as you,” Five said. You saw his eyes glance in the mirror again. “I saw you.”

You nodded. “I saw you watching. Do you like ballet?”

“Not particularly, no,” he answered honestly.

“Oh. Well, that’s a shame.”

“I enjoyed watching you, though,” he said, and you thought you heard his voice crack just a tiny bit as he said it. Then he cleared his throat. “Not in a stalker way. I just mean the dancing was interesting.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

There was more silence as the car sped along en route to your house. You couldn’t help the tiny smile that formed on your face as you looked out the window. This guy was starting to grow on you.

When you arrived home, he got out and opened the car door for you again, this time taking your bags for you as you both headed up the stairs to your front door.

You laughed nervously. “I feel like this is a date and you’re walking me home.”

Five shook his head with a slight smile. “Not a date. I’ll just make sure you get in safely and there are no signs of forced entry, and then I’ll be on my way.”

“Got it.” You turned to unlock the door and then stopped, turning to face Five again. “So, there’s something you should know.”

“What’s that?”

You looked at your feet. “Well, it’s just that this house… I know it looks fancy and you probably think I’m some rich bitch snob, but… “ Five couldn’t deny that, so just waited for you to finish. “Let’s just say don’t judge a book by its cover, ok?”

Five didn’t say anything at first, until he realized you were actually waiting for a sign of acknowledgement. Then he nodded. “Ok.”

You unlocked the door and let Five step inside first. You held your breath as you watched him walk into the grand foyer and take everything in. You knew what he was probably thinking. That he couldn’t believe you lived in such a shit hole.

Five spun slowly around, looking at the open first story of your house. Once upon a time it had been a beautiful mansion. Now it resembled more of a construction zone than anything else. The walls of the massive living room that were lined with faded, gold-striped wallpaper, were half-torn down or riddled with holes. Only half of the lights worked in the house, leaving just a few old sconces on the wall flickering dimly. A sitting area on the other side of the foyer was filled with old, dusty furniture that had collected over the years that were in various states of disrepair. A grand piano sat off to the side, covered in a large sheet to keep the dust and dirt off. It was one of the only things in the house that you cherished.

You sighed and laughed quietly. “Home sweet home.”

Five looked at you curiously, his head tilted slightly to the side. He slid his hands into his pants pockets and rocked back on his heels.

“You’re right, this is not what I expected from the outside.” He looked around again. “What happened?”

When he asked you that, you got a sense that he didn’t mean what happened to the house, but rather, what happened to you for you to end up living this way.

“This was my grandmother’s house. She grew up here and lived here her entire life. When I was little, I used to come here all the time. Even then it was starting to become a little disheveled. Nana wasn’t much of a housekeeper.” You laughed at the memory. “But she was fun and a little crazy, and she took me to my first ballet when I was five. After that, I used to dance right here in this foyer, pretending I was the star of the show, while she played the piano.”

“She paid for my first dance lessons and came to every recital. But then her mind started to go and her housekeeping skills got even worse. The house fell into disrepair over the years and she kind of just shut herself inside while it deteriorated around her. I tried to help, but after a while she didn’t remember who I was.” Your eyes filled with tears. “That was the worst part.”

“What about your parents?” Five asked.

“They’re still around, but they don’t really see my dancing as a real career. I think they still view me as a little kid playing dress up.” You shrugged. “They wanted me to be a doctor or something they could be proud of.”

Five’s eyebrows creased together. “They should be proud of you now. You’re the captain of the dance team.”

You laughed loudly, which made him crack a smile. “Principal dancer, but yeah… close enough.” You shook your head. “It’s not enough for them.”

“So, what made you end up here?”

“Well, when my grandmother died, she left all her possessions to me. She didn’t have much in the end, just a couple thousand dollars and this house. So, I decided I’d live here until I could afford to either move somewhere better or fix it up. No one wants to buy it in the state it’s in. Unfortunately, on my salary, that will take a while.”

“Dance captains don’t make good money?” Five asked with a smirk.

“Not really, no. For the amount of work we put in, our dedication, and the discipline we have for our bodies… it’s really not much. But I figure the house is free, so I might as well stay here and save up. I don’t need any place fancy, anyway.”

Five nodded, his green eyes searching your face before pushing his hair off his forehead. “I should take a look around, just to be safe. Then I’ll leave you alone for the night.”

“Ok, yeah,” you started walking further into the house. “Follow me, I’ll show you around.”

You gave Five a tour, leading him through each aging area of the house and taking him through the outdated kitchen that still, embarrassingly, contained some of the remains of your spilled smoothie from that morning. The two of you walked up the grandiose, winding staircase so you could show him each bedroom and bathroom. When you came to the master bedroom, which was the one you had taken over, you paused with a smile.

“This one might surprise you.”

You opened the double doors to the bedroom with a flourish, presenting the room to Five like it was some sort of splendid wonderment. He stepped inside with you and you gestured around.

“I decided to splurge and make this my little home within a home,” you explained.

The room was big, and you had kept your grandmother’s antique four poster bed, but spruced it up with a luxurious, light pink comforter, fluffy pillows, and a couple strings of fairy lights overhead. The dressers and vanity mirror were also original, but you had refinished them and added new, updated hardware. A small reading nook with a big, comfy armchair and bookshelves took up one corner of the room.

Five hadn’t said anything as he looked around, which made you a little self-conscious.

“So, yeah… this is where the magic happens,” you joked, laughing stupidly at yourself and then blushing.

Five just gave you a semi-amused look, but didn’t comment further.

You cleared your throat. “Here, let me show you the bathroom. This will really blow your mind.”

The en suite bathroom was the crown jewel of the house and just as large as the bedroom itself. It was the one room your grandmother had kept up and it was still beautiful.

“She loved baths,” you said as you motioned to the gigantic soaking tub that was big enough for four people.

It was surrounded by gorgeous, expensive marble tile, with a stand alone shower that was also impressive. You had lined the ledge around the tub with candles and scented soaps that you loved to use after a long day of dancing. The sink and cabinets were adorned with gold accents, but without being too gaudy. You had added plush, pink towels and other accents to give it your own flair.

“Pretty cool, huh?”

Five nodded. “It’s definitely impressive. Your grandmother seemed to have good taste.”

“Yes, she did.”

After another few seconds, Five turned to you. “Is there anywhere else I need to look before I leave?”

“Oh,” you said, suddenly feeling a little stupid that you had been showing off your bathroom, when really all he wanted to know was that everything was locked up safely. “No, this is it. In terms of outside access points, anyway.”

“Just make sure you keep all doors and windows locked. Even on the second floor.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a card, handing it over to you. “Here’s my number. Call me if you need anything or you suspect anything.”

“Yeah, ok. Thank you.”

With another nod, Five turned to head back out of the room. You followed him down the stairs until you were at the front door. He opened it and then turned to you again.

“You know, you really shouldn’t lead a strange man through your house like that. There were several spots where you would have been trapped with no way out if I had ill intentions.”

You rolled your eyes. “Seriously?”

Five smiled crookedly. “I’m just saying… you shouldn’t be so trusting.”

You eyed him up for a minute, trying to determine if he was making fun of you or not. You decided to see if you could rattle him a little. “And what kind of ill intentions would you be thinking of… you know… if you had any?” You put your hand on your hip and cocked it to the side.

Five wasn’t so easily thrown off his game, though, and he didn’t even flinch at your flirty invitation. With that same half-smile he shook his head. “See you tomorrow morning.” He paused, looking back on his way down the steps as you stood in the doorway. “Same time? Or should I factor smoothie accidents into the equation?”

You laughed, despite your annoyance. ��I promise I’ll be on time.”

“Good night,then,” he said, before heading to the car.

“Good night, Five.”

******************************

Chapter 2: The Letter

When Five arrived back at the Academy, he went immediately to the bar, just like he always did, and poured himself a generous glass of whatever he was in the mood for at the moment. Tonight it was bourbon. And not a bad one, either. He took a sip and sighed, letting the smokiness of the liquor burn deliciously down his throat.

Five shrugged off his jacket and vest, loosening his tie and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt as he sat heavily on one of the old bar stools. The house was quiet except for the occasional whistle of wind through an exposed crack, or an ominous creaking noise from somewhere within the old foundation. It all added to the overall ambiance of a haunted house that Five was starting to grow accustomed to.

As he sat there, ruminating on the happenings of the day, he spun the chipped crystal glass idly on the bartop in front of him.

He wasn’t sure what to think of you. He had been expecting a rich, stuck-up princess type, but that’s not what you were at all. Instead, you were surprisingly pleasant; and Five didn’t find most people pleasant. So, this was fairly new territory for him. During the few short interactions he had with you throughout the day, he found himself enjoying your company. Again, this was all new for Five.

He thought about how you and he weren’t that different in some ways. You were both living alone in these big, crumbling mansions that appeared impressive from the outside but were a mess on the inside. If Five really wanted to go down that road, he could make the case that your houses were metaphors for yourselves. But the last thing he wanted to do was to start analysing his psyche, so he moved on.

He found himself lost in a daydream of you dancing effortlessly and gracefully around the dilapidated halls of the Academy, just like he had seen you dance in the studio that day. In his fantasy, you were surrounded by a golden halo of light that brightened every room you passed through. What a contrast your elegance and beauty was when compared to the darkness of the mansion. He smiled at the thought.

He thought of how you had made the best of your situation and had actually carved out a space for yourself in that old house; making the master bedroom and bathroom into your home within a home. Five looked around him. He had done nothing like that. The thought had never even occurred to him. He had made the space livable, at least for his meager needs, but it was in no way a “home”. He had not decorated it with things he liked or found interesting. He hadn’t brought in any new furniture or tried to fix what was there. He had essentially made it like his camp he had with Dolores during the apocalypse. A relatively safe place to come back to every day. A place to survive.

Five then thought of your stalker. He had no sympathies for this unknown and possibly dangerous man that was obsessed with you. But he could almost see his side of things. Especially if this man had seen you dance, Five could see how that could spark some sort of unhealthy, imaginary romance. Not that he would hesitate to take that fucker out if he needed to, or that he would ever stoop to such a pathetic level himself, but still. He kind of got it.

He started taking a mental inventory of all of the access points in your house that he had noticed while you had led him around. You had told him that you didn’t think your stalker knew where you lived, but Five had his doubts. Why would this guy stop at just the studio and theater? If he was that hung up on you, then there was no reason to believe he wouldn’t have followed you home at some point.

Again, Five’s mind wandered back to your dancing, only this time instead of the Academy, he pictured you twirling around in your beautifully marbled bathroom. The candles that surrounded the edge of the tub were lit, illuminating your face and body with flickering light. And then somehow… for some reason… Five started to imagine you in less and less clothing until you were fully nude. Your strong body and defined muscles flexed and moved with each sensual pose you demonstrated for him, all while growing closer and closer until you were right there in front of him. Your warm skin pressing against him… your soft mouth a mere inches away…

“Five,” you whispered and god damn it if he didn’t want to drop to his knees at just the sound of his name on your lips.

“Five!”

Five jumped, startled out of his fantasy by a very real and familiar voice.

“Fivey! Hello? Where are you?”

Five groaned before tipping his head back and yelling in response. “Klaus, where the fuck do you think I am?”

Klaus sauntered into the parlor, looking around him as if he hadn’t just been there a few days ago. He spied Five sitting at the bar and he broke out in a smile.

“Oh, hey there, Fivey.”

With a roll of his eyes, Five took another drink before addressing his brother. “Klaus, I only occupy one room of this crap hole, and it’s the same room every time, so I’m not sure where your confusion is coming from.”

Klaus shrugged, joining Five at the bar and leaning over to grab one of the bottles from underneath. He unstoppered the half-full bottle of vodka and took a swig. Then he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I like pretending we’re in an old sitcom together. You know, like ‘Honey, I’m home!’ and then you run out with an apron and heels on, carrying my favorite drink for me while I sit in an armchair and smoke a pipe.”

Five turned so that he could lean his back against the bartop. “Klaus, in what universe do you think I would be the housewife in that situation?”

Klaus shrugged again, reaching over to ruffle Five’s hair, which earned him a swat on the hand. “I’m not sure, but you’d look awfully cute in an apron.”

“God, you are disturbed.”

“Thank you!” Klaus responded happily before taking another drink. When he lowered the bottle he sighed. “So, what’s been happening around here?”

“Not much. I started that new security job you turned me on to, so thank you for that.”

“Did you? Oh, well that would make sense.”

“What do you mean?”

“My buddy, the one who is friends with your new boss and told me about the job opening, said some psychopath came in there yesterday and shot up the place. Right before demanding he be given the job.”

Five nearly choked on his drink. “What? I didn’t shoot up the place!” Klaus raised a skeptical eyebrow. Five sighed. “It was one, very tiny and very discrete shot into the doorknob of the door. I wouldn’t call that shooting up the place.”

Klaus smiled. “I see.”

“And I certainly didn’t demand the job. It was offered to me before I shot up the place.” He closed his eyes in frustration. “I mean, before I fired the single, harmless shot.”

Klaus chuckled. He loved getting under his brother’s skin. Even if that did put him at risk for bodily harm.

“So, what is this job anyway? You like a security guard at a mall or something?”

“More like a bodyguard.”

That piqued Klaus’s interest and he put his elbow on the bar, propping his head up with his hand as he smiled slyly. “Ohhh…. Tell me more about that!”

“There’s nothing to tell. She’s a dancer and she has a stalker.”

Klaus gasped dramatically. “Dancer? Like a stripper?”

Five scoffed. “No. She’s a ballet dancer.”

There was another loud gasp that prompted an irritated scowl from Five. “A ballerina! Oh, Fivey… this is like some serious romance shit! I can just picture it… the stalker tries to get to the beautiful, helpless ballerina, threatening to kidnap her or worse… but then you swoop in to save the day, knock the guy on his ass, and then guess who gets the girl?”

Klaus waited as if he expected an actual response from Five. When all he received was a blank stare, he poked Five in the shoulder. “You do, silly! No woman can resist a real life hero saving them from the clutches of the evil villain. She’ll probably reward you by immediately jumping those skinny little bones of yours. Do a little tongue pirouette on your downstairs bits, if you know what I mean.”

“Klaus, what the fuck?” Five responded, running a hand down his face in frustration.

“What? I bet she’s rich, too, huh?”

“Not really, no.”

“Oh,” Klaus answered with a disappointed sigh. Then he perked up again. “But mark my words, Fivey. When she sees what a badass killer you are, she’s going to be on you like flies on shit.”

“What a charming visual, thank you for that,” Five sighed.

“You know what I mean. She won’t be able to hold herself back.”

“First of all, stop being a pervert. Second of all, you don’t even know anything about her. I haven’t even told you what she looks like or her age or anything!”

Klaus nodded. “You’re right.” Then he grinned. “She’s hot though, isn’t she?”

Five took another drink, speaking over the top of his glass. “She is moderately attractive.”

“Ha!” Klaus exclaimed, slapping Five on the back and making him slosh his bourbon onto his good suit pants. “I knew it! Well, good for you, Broseph Stalin. It’s about time.”

“About time for what?” Five muttered while he angrily wiped at his pants with a napkin.

“About time for you to get that new and improved dick of yours wet. You’ve been keeping it sealed up for too long. Time to let that bad boy out for some air!”

“Jesus Christ, Klaus!” Five cried, throwing his hands up. “What is your fucking problem? Can’t you just leave me alone?”

“What? I’m trying to help you out!”

“Klaus, the only thing you are doing is reaffirming my decision to live alone.” Klaus put on his best pout and tried to look hurt. Five rolled his eyes before trying to change the subject. “The job pays pretty well at least, so I should be able to get out of here soon.”

Klaus looked around at the sad remains of their childhood home and nodded. Then he turned to Five with an almost nervous smile. “So, if you move out, does that mean no more drop-ins?“

Five sighed and shook his head. He reached over and patted Klaus on the shoulder, although he didn’t make eye contact. “You’re always welcome, no matter where I end up, Klaus.”

Klaus clapped his hands and tried to lean in for a hug, but was met with nothing but empty air as Five blinked away at the last second. Klaus toppled off his barstool in the process, while Five laughed at him from the other side of the bar.

“You’re an asshole,” Klaus grumbled as he hauled himself back up.

Five smirked. “Yeah, I know.”

*************************

Over the next few weeks, you and Five developed a kind of routine. He would arrive at your house and wait outside by the car every morning at 7:00am on the dot. You would stumble your way out somewhere between 7:08 and 7:15. There was the predictable exchange of Five’s irritated grumblings while you blabbered on about whatever it was that made you late that day. It would end with Five taking your bags and opening the car door, all while smiling and shaking his head at your constant state of turmoil.

You liked your little talks in the car to and from the studio. It was awkward in the beginning, but over time it became comfortable. You would chat about your work and rehearsals, and gossip about the other dancers. There was always a love tryst going on somewhere, but you stayed away from all of that. You didn’t need that drama in your life.

“So, what about you? You never talk about a boyfriend,” Five had asked one day on the way home. You noticed the slight shift in tone when he asked you. Like he was going for an air of casualness but not really pulling it off.

“Oh, no,” you said, waving your hand in the air. “No boyfriend for me.”

“Why not?”

You paused, not really sure how you were supposed to answer that and why he wanted to know. “Well, lots of reasons I suppose. The main one is probably that I’m so busy that I don’t have time to even see my family or friends, let alone a boyfriend.”

“What about the male dancers at your studio?” Five asked, clearly not wanting to drop the subject.

You sighed. “No thank you. Most of them aren’t into women anyway, and the ones that are I have no interest in. Plus I don’t need to be dating anyone from work. I’ve got enough going on.”

Five nodded, keeping his eyes on the road. “Good point.”

You leaned back against the backseat and looked out the window. Then you chuckled quietly to yourself.

“What?” Five asked.

“Oh nothing. I was just thinking that you are the closest thing I have to a boyfriend right now.”

There was a moment of silence before you saw Five swallow. “How is that?”

“Well, other than the dancers in my company, you are the person I see the most lately. You’re there when I get up in the morning, you’re there when I come home. You’re one of the only people that has seen inside my mess of a house, including my bedroom. We talk every day and know each other’s personal lives.” You laughed again. “Honestly, the only thing different is that we aren’t fucking.”

Your giggle came to an abrupt halt as you clamped your mouth shut. You don’t even know why you had said that, it just kind of came out. You worried at your bottom lip with your teeth as you tried to decide whether to say anything else to cover it up or just shut your trap and pretend it never happened.

There was a long, silent pause as the car drew to a stop at a red light. Five’s eyes met yours in the mirror and he didn’t look away.

“Well, that figures,” Five said and you saw him smirk. “I get all of the boyfriend duties and none of the perks.”

Your jaw dropped open for a second and then you let go with a loud peal of laughter. You punched him lightly on the shoulder.

“Five Hargreeves! I never knew you made jokes!”

He shrugged, his eyes returning to the road as the light turned green again. “Well, now you know. I’m a fucking comedian.”

That made you laugh even harder and you tried to suppress the smile that kept creeping up the entire ride home. And even though he tried to hide it, Five was wearing one, too.

************************

Your little naughty joke seemed to have broken the last barrier between the two of you, and after that it was like you were an old married couple. When you weren’t having deep conversations and learning about one another’s lives, you were either cracking stupid jokes at the others’ expense or bickering over the smallest things. Within the span of another two weeks, Five had somehow become your friend. And not just a casual one; he had become your number one confidant. You felt comfortable with him. You felt safe. And you were pretty sure he felt the same way about you.

Your stalker continued to show up every day to your studio, just like always. Sometimes he would get out of his truck and stand there, just watching, as you and Five made your way inside. On those occasions when you felt a little more on edge, Five would blink you directly into the building, to avoid the man being able to see you.

You liked when he blinked you places. He didn’t do it often, but when he did it was like a little adrenaline rush and it always left you laughing. Plus, you couldn’t deny that you liked having him that close to you. He would usually just hold on to your upper arm, but sometimes he would take your hand in his. Once, for no discernible reason, he had wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you in close. There had been a split second when you thought he might kiss you, but before you could even entertain that thought, you were being ripped through a portal and landing on the other side where he let go of you immediately.

Five also started spending more time outside of your rehearsal room. You would catch him through the window, trying to look like he wasn’t interested but failing. You found yourself flaunting your body just a little more when you knew he was looking. Not so much while you were dancing; that you took very seriously and were focused in. But during breaks, when you took a drink from your water bottle, and just happened to let a small river of water slip down your exposed neck and between your breasts. And when you needed to adjust your shoes and would coincidentally bend over directly in front of his sightline. It was silly, but hey, you didn’t have anything else going on in your non-existent love life, so you had to create some excitement.

While you did enjoy each other's company, your relationship never extended past Five’s security duties. Every night he made sure the house was locked up and safe, and every night he left to go back to his decrepit mansion while you stayed in yours. He had given you his number, but you had never had to use it.

Until you got the fright of your life.

Five had left hours earlier, yet you were still awake and roaming around the spacious house. You settled into a kitchen chair, listening to the sound of the tea kettle on the stove start to come to life with bubbling water. It wasn’t loud enough yet to cover the noise you heard coming from outside, though. A noise that made you freeze like a horror-stricken statue in your seat.

It was the unmistakable sound of car tires rolling slowly up the gravel driveway to your house. The noise became louder until it stopped altogether. And then you heard a car door open and slam shut again.

“Oh my god,” you whispered to yourself.

You hopped up, racing over to the light switch on the wall and clicking it off. Then you crawled into the living room, staying low to avoid the windows, and switched off the lamp you had been reading beside earlier. The house was now in total darkness as you listened to a pair of heavy footsteps make their way to the front door.

You held your breath as you crouched next to one of the old sofas. Maybe it was Five, you thought to yourself. Maybe he forgot something or was just coming to check on you. You rolled your eyes at your stupidness. The footsteps came to a halt near the door. There was a moment of pure terror while you waited for whatever was going to come next.

Would they break a window to get inside? Kick in the door? Would they find you huddled on the ground and put a bullet in your head? Or worse things you didn’t even want to entertain?

After a few seconds, the same footsteps began to retreat and fade further away. You heard the car door open and shut again and the tires crunch on the gravel, presumably as the car backed down the driveway. And then everything was silent again.

When the tea kettle in the kitchen came to a full boil and shrieked its alert to you, you screamed out loud, your voice echoing off the walls. You clapped a hand over your mouth, but started making your way towards the kitchen again, still on your hands and knees. Once you stood and were able to move the kettle off of the burner and silence it again, you leaned against the counter and took in a big, shaking breath.

“Holy fuck,” you cursed.

After at least another ten minutes of keeping still, there were no other worrying sounds from outside or inside, and you switched on the light in the kitchen again. After slowly making your way to the front door, you peered into the peephole. When all you saw was the dark outside and an empty porch, you breathed a sigh of relief. But, like an idiot, that wasn’t enough. Unlocking the door as quietly as possible, you opened it just a crack so that you could quickly peek outside.

There was no one there and you were about to close the door and lock it again, when something caught your eye. In the open maw of one of the lion statues on the porch was a white envelope, giving the illusion that the lion was delivering you some mail. Taking another hurried look from side to side, you leaned over to snatch it up and slammed the door shut, locking it and pressing your back against it while you caught your breath.

With trembling hands, you looked down at the letter-sized envelope in your hand. Your name was typed neatly on the front with a hand-drawn heart next to it. You made a little groaning noise and tried to blink back the tears you felt forming in your eyes.

Five. It was the first thought you had. I need to get to Five.

Chapter 3->

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