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jilixthinker · 9 months ago

Text

slowly to me

=͟͟͞♡ virgin!felix × noona!fem reader

=͟͟͞♡ bestfriends/roommates to lovers

word count: 7.4K

content warning: explicit sexual content, sub!felix, soft dom!noona reader, felix is a virgin, corruption kink if you squint, mutual masturbation, clit play, fingering, cock play, dirty talk, unprotected sex (as usual), creampie, they are clueless idiots in love.

a/c: i wanted to write this for the longest time and now i am kinda nervous sharing it because it feels more personal (?) and intimate than usual. hope you will enjoy it ♡

=͟͟͞♡ please, consider reblogging if you like my works!

[00:17 AM] fefe 🧚‍♀️

noona 💙

are you awake?

please tell me you are

I can't find my keys 😪

i know it's late

don't hate me

You blink your eyes open a few times. The sound of your phone buzzing on your nightstand is insistent over the chattering noise coming from your laptop. You must have fallen asleep more than 30 minutes ago, considering that you are not familiar with the episode of the anime you are currently watching. Your fingers brush against the cover of your phone and you finally grab it with a sleepy grunt. When you unlock it, not without typing the wrong code twice, you notice that your chat with Felix is already open, a few notifications popping on the screen.

[00:18 AM] fefe 🧚‍♀️

noona 😪😪

[00:18 AM] you

where are you now

[00:18 AM] fefe 🧚‍♀️

outside 😪

noona, my savior

my only light in the darkness 💙

You force yourself to sit on the bed as you yawn. When you read the last text, you chuckle despite of how sleepy you feel. It's a little bit late to be coming back home, even for Felix, but you don't mind. Felix usually stays awake till dawn, always prone to chat and watch tv series together whenever you cannot sleep. You help each other in your own ways, yours being the responsible counterpart in your household.

You find your slippers with your feet and you finally stand up, heading outside of your room and to the corridor. It's pretty warm already this time of year, and you don't even bother putting on something over your light pajamas. It's just Felix anyway, he did see you at your worst so many times that you cannot even remember.

When you open the door, Felix is fighting with the zipper of his denim jacket. He is dressed casually, almost as if he didn't put any effort on what he was going to wear. A pink hoodie is picking out from his black slacks, and his hair is styled in a messy bun, a few locks escaping from the hair tie and covering his eyes.

"Noona, I owe you." he huffs, offering you a toothy smile as soon as you let him in.

"Don't mention it. I don't even have plans for tomorrow morning, I can just sleep in." you yawn in response, plopping on the couch and closing your eyes again.

Felix hums and throws his jacket on the nearest chair of your shared living room before letting himself fall next to you, face immediately finding its favorite place into the crook of your neck.

"How was your date?" you ask him, circling his shoulders with your arm and letting him scooch closer to you.

You feel his cold nose nuzzling against your collarbones and you chuckle, bringing your hand to the top of his head and starting to untie the loose bun. Felix puffs and you can hear his lips curving into a small pout.

"As always." he mumbles. "He was cute. Funny. He paid for my order."

You nod, and your fingers find their way up to his scalp, scratching it lightly and pulling a soft grunt out of his lips. "But..." you add, waiting for the inevitable epilogue.

"But..." he shifts from his position to lay down with his face on your lap. "- I felt nothing. He was very handsome, and smart. He was nice. I could tell he would make a great boyfriend. But I just looked at him and... I couldn't see myself kissing him, or touching him. It felt like looking at a nice painting, you know? I don’t know what is wrong with me."

"Nothing is wrong with you, Lix." you murmur in the dark. Your thumb moves from his soft locks and start circling the plump skin of his cheek. Felix huffs again and rubs his nose against your lower stomach. He does it often, and it makes him look like a small kitten looking for some comfort. Your heart always sinks at that.

"I am serious." you continue. "Feelings cannot be controlled. It's not your fault if you didn't feel attracted to him. Maybe he just wasn't the one."

Felix looks at you from his position, his big pleading eyes are a little tired.

"And who will be the one, noona? I am 23 and I didn't find a single person yet. I didn't even... you know." Felix lets out a sarcastic chuckle. "Can you tell how hard is it to reach this age without experimenting with anyone? I feel left out."

"Does it bother you so much? Being a virgin?" you ask him. Felix and you are used to talk a lot about everything without any sort of embarassment, but he only mentioned the topic of his inexperience a few times in your many years of friendship.

You didn't believe him at first. Felix was... Felix. The most precious human being on earth, smart and kind, generous and funny, witty and reliable. Your bestfriend, your proclaimed soulmate, and the prettiest person you've ever seen. Him being a virgin sounded like a joke to you. He confessed it when he was 18 at the time, and he was a little tipsy after a few bottles of beers you two had shared after moving into your new apartment. You could tell it was an uncomfortable topic for him, and you never asked him again. You just told him that he was young, and that the situation would change quickly in the following months.

But years passed, five to be exact. And Felix didn't have sex with anyone. He finished college, started working and met people, he started dating even, but as soon as the people he was seeing asked him for something more, he shut everything down and disappeared from their lives.

"It does bother me, yes." he answers quietly. "Because I am not afraid of intimacy itself. I just... don't feel the right attraction. I want to, but I can't. All these pretty boys I met, and the furthest I've gone is kissing. I don't know what to do, noona."

Felix shudders and you pull him closer to you. His voice is almost a whisper and his breathing is getting a little heavy. Your fingers go back to stroke through his hair gently, as you try to calm him down.

"Have you considered dating girls?" you ask him. "You told me you felt more comfortable with them."

Felix's arms circle your waist as he hugs you tight. He looks at you intently with a shy smile. He looks so tiny all curled up like this.

"I do love girls. More than boys actually. I thought about that a lot." He murmurs as he pulls you so close that your stomach is pressed completely against his cheek. "But I feel shy around them. I cannot help but thinking that I would mess everything up. With boys... it would be easier. I know how a male body works. But I have no clue on how to, uh —"

You chuckle at his words and you lean forward to pinch at his nose, amused by his reaction. "How to touch them?" you smile at him.

Felix laughs and lets out a breathless sigh. He pulls away slightly, though keeping his eyes locked on you. You can see a light blush appearing on the apples of his cheeks.

"Uhm, yes. That." His voice is still playful, but you can hear the nervousness in his breath as well. "You know I have never kissed a girl before. Just boys. Uh–, I know nothing, noona." he exhales.

You scrunch your nose and you let yourself relax against the sofa behind you. Felix's arms are still linked tightly around your waist. "There is nothing to be ashamed of, Lix," you breathe out. "Human nature will do its thing. When you'll find yourself in that situation, your body will know what to do."

"I'm not so sure." he murmurs, starting to rub his nose against your hipbone, sniffing at the fabric like he always does when he is feeling a little overwhelmed.

Your hand finds its way toward the back of his neck and you apply a slight pressure on the skin there. Felix lets out a shaky breath.

"You will see. With the right person, you won't feel uncomfortable at all. It's normal to don't know stuff, you know. We've all been there. And each body, each person, is different. You can figure things out along the way, by asking and learning." You try to reassure him. "It's not a performance. You should just focus on feeling good and let the other person feel good too. I promise it's not so complicated as you think."

Felix hums quietly and a mellow silence falls around you. The room is still dark, it should be around 1 a.m. now, but a beam of moonlight shines through the window, reflecting small glimpses of silver upon Felix's hair.

Felix feels small and soft on your lap. He is still hugging you, and you know him enough to sense that he is restraining himself somehow. You can feel the distress in the way his tiny hands are fisting the cotton of your pajamas around your waist.

"Lixie, sweetheart..." you murmur, voice little higher than a sigh. Felix holds tighter on you, as if he is scared of you running away. As if you could.

The fact is that you love Felix. You always did, in a way. You cannot tell exactly when you fell in love with him, but it happened sometime between your last year of highschool and your freshman year of college. You remember Felix grabbing your hand when you graduated in summer, sweat under your dress from being exposed to the hot sun, waiting for your speech. You remember him intertwining your fingers and smiling at you with devoted eyes when he helped you moving in your new dormitory. You remember him wetting your shoulder with warm tears because you were going to be separated from each other for the first time. And, oh. At a certain point you just knew.

You never talked about that, of course. You didn't think you needed to. Things between you were perfect already, and you were happy you've managed to slip neatly into your routine. Felix needs you in a way nobody else can comprehend. And you need him too, in a slight different way. And it's okay, you've always been good at managing your own feelings.

"Noona..." he answers timidly.

"What are you thinking about? I can hear the sound of your brain working no stop." you shrug, looking at him. The moonlight looks the ideal light to admire him, you find yourself admitting.

Felix looks over at you, his lips upturned with a reluctant smile. "It's just... I don't think I will ever find this person." he sighs softly.

"Why so? I cannot imagine anyone who wouldn't want to be with you. You are perfect." you say, eyes jumping down to Felix's delicate frame. His button nose covered in freckles scrunches a bit over the line of his plump lips. They look moist. They must be soft.

From his gaze, you can see that your words are the last thing Felix was expecting to hear from you. "Because–" he stutters while the pressure of his hands on you becomes almost too much, "–there is already... ugh, nevermind."

The silence that follows his semi-confession is heavy on you. You freeze at the admission, and you can tell from his eyes that he didn't mean to let that slip. That's it – you think – there is someone. Someone who Felix cares about, maybe that he even loves, and that is keeping him from living his life freely. Someone who apparently doesn’t reciprocate his feelings, given that Felix is trying to see other people and complaining about them with you.

Fuck, that hurts. You could have seen it coming, but it still hurts.

You open your mouth to formulate any sort of coherent words of encouragement that you can master, but Felix decides to move from his position at the same time you shift on the sofa to look at him. The impact of your bodies gives gravity a push, and you both go down with a loud humph, landing on the couch with your limbs all entangled. Felix groans as his back collides with the leather, and you open your eyes to check up on him, only to stop as soon as you realize how close you are to each other.

His lean and warm body is all pressed up against the cushions, and suddenly any trace of stoicism has fled the situation. You don't even remember what you were going to say, to be honest. All you are conscious of is Felix's body and the way his eyes are looking at you, making you flush with an unknown tenderness. You take a deep breath and the realization that you can feel his parted thighs caging your hips and his arms pawing at your shirt hits you hard. And maybe it's the late hour, maybe it's because you've spent the last hour talking your hearts out – and the last years repressing your feelings –, or maybe it's because Felix looks so vulnerable like this.

Whatever it is, instead of laughing everything off and move from this awkward position, you keep looking at him as some strands of hair fall onto his forehead and his breathing gets a little quicker. You find yourself thinking that maybe this is the most beautiful Felix has ever looked.

"Noona." he murmurs, and you can feel how the air shifts around you. His make-up is a little bit smudged around his eyes, you notice, and you lift your hand to rub at the corner of his eyelid with your finger. Felix trembles lightly as you touch him, and desire tugs at you, pushing you towards a path that you know is not wise.

"Noona–" he breathes out again, this time not much louder than a whisper. "I want to try something."

"Felix," you say unsteadily as Felix's hand grabs at your pajamas a little more firmly. "This isn't a good idea."

"Why so?" he asks, voice all tiny, shifting closer to you anyway. Everytime you try to look away from his lips it's like your eyes have been glued in place. "You said that with the right person it wouldn't feel uncomfortable. I– you.. I don't feel uncomfortable with you."

You sigh at his words. You are sure there is almost a thousand reasons why you shouldn't be doing this. First of all, Felix doesn’t love you. Not the way you do, at least. And he is hurting now, he is sad. He is not in the conditions of taking such a decision. But you can hardly manage a coherent thought right now, with him being this close to you.

He doesn't like you back, you cannot do this.

"Felix, I am honored that you trust me this much. I really am." you manage, but your voice sounds faint. "But this is not the right thing to do now. You don't want it to happen this way."

At that, Felix pauses and looks at you. He bites his lip, as if he was looking for the right words, and his eyes looks different, almost watery. "Don't you..." he stutters, "am I not good enough?"

You blink in confusion and a thick layer of guilt fills your stomach to the brim. You hate seeing Felix in distress, you cannot stand the way his timid smile leaves his face. You would give him the moon if that would make him happy.

"Oh no, Felix, sweetheart," you confess, bringing your hand to cup his cheek. The freckled skin feels soft and warm under your fingers. "this is not what I meant. I just– fuck," you swear in protest. "I just don't think I am the right choice. You deserve the right person for this."

Felix’s gaze fractures and he suddenly lets out the tiniest sigh, a pleading look framing his delicate traits. He turns his face to the left, leaning on your touch and he rubs his nose on the palm of your hand.

"Noona, you are not the right person. You are my person." He shyly admits, voice muffled on your skin. "But I can understand if you don't want this. If you don't want me the way I do. I am sorry for bringing this out, I should have kept that for myself."

You freeze, guilt becoming dread and pooling on your stomach. Oblivious to any of this, Felix gives you a small, sad smile and continues, "I tried to ignore it, believe me, I did. I kept myself from feeling this much because I knew it wasn't the same for you. But I can't help it, noona. I started seeing other people in the hope that it would eventually fade away. But it didn't. And now I am making a fool out of myself." Felix looks over at you and his smile is not the one you are used to see on his face. "Sorry for ruining everything," he sighs, "I just love you."

Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

You feel a fist of air being pushed out of your lungs like a truck. Felix's eyes are big and sweet, and a single tear escapes from his lashes to roll down the apple of his cheek. You fucked up. You fucked up so bad. You misunderstood everything. Guilt nestles in your chest like a stone, scraping at your heart.

"Felix," you say, your voice sounding foreign and groggy, "Felix. You love me? You love me?"

Felix's eyes jump down to your lips just for a second, and then back at you. He sniffs as he brings his free hand to his face, rubbing the tear away. "I do." he admits. "I really do."

The truth in his tone has you let out an inaudible gasp. Then, in the span of a second, just the time of a blink, everything changes.

"Say it again." You whisper as your eyes lock into Felix's. And then Felix opens his mouth, just barely, and his muttered words stay still on the tip of his tongue.

"Say it." You repeat as your thumb shifts, stroking slowly along his jaw and down to his chin. "Wanna hear it again."

Felix blinks, and he looks like he can't come up with something to say at all. "Noona, what are you, uh–" he gasps when your fingers catch his bottom lip, pinching it a little to enjoy its softness.

"Lix, sweetheart..." you whisper, letting your face fall slowly down to his neck. The insides of your tighs press against the outside of Felix's as to trap him there. "You want me, uh? You love me?" you tease him, your hand coming up to steady him by the chin, keeping him still while your mouth finally founds the tender skin of his neck and you place a single peck under his earlobe. "I wanna hear you saying it."

A weak whimper makes itself known at the bottom of Felix's throat when you angle your head to the side and leave a humid trail of kisses all along the column of his neck. "Noona, I... why are you – ah – why are you doing t-this?" he mutters with a sigh.

You grin against his skin at the sound of his affected voice, and you nose at his chin blowing another tiny peck there. "Just say it." You repeat.

Felix's eyes are semiclosed now, but his pupils are wide and dark, and your grip on his jaw tightens a bit. Just another wet kiss on his Adam's apple is sufficient to convince him to give you what you're asking for. "I want you." He grumbles as his legs start to tremble under your weight. "I love you." He breathes.

And that's it. Felix doesn’t have the time to even realize what is going on before you are pressing down with purpose, your lips firm against his and your hands buried in his hair as he lets out a tiny sob. His mouth is cherry red and sweet, and your lips slid against it, applying just the right amount of pressure to have him melting against the couch. The kiss feels almost electric, and the low groan Felix exhales bubbles up into the back of your throat.

Felix is soft, and his body becomes malleable and pliant beneath your touch as soon as he clings onto you with fervent hands, a little desperate to keep hold of how good he is feeling. He moans beautifully every time your lips detach from his to catch some breath, and his fingers find your face too, curling against your cheeks and keeping you close to him.

As soon as your tongue licks languidly at his bottom lip, his mouth opens up to let the warm muscle slip into his mouth with a low grunt. You can feel that Felix is not experienced in the way he is unable to do anything but tremble with pleasure in the bracket of your arms as your lips glide against his, slick and wet. He lets out another whimper when your tongue licks at the roof of his mouth and your head feels dizzy and heavy with desire.

You cannot remember the last time you felt this good and this right, to be honest. Felix’s confession is still lingering in your brain as your hips press against his in a swift movement, coaxing a soft moan out of the boy under you. You smile in the kiss, feeling as if everything in the universe is finally in its designed place and, at the same time, all condensed in the way the two of you are wrapped up in each other so tightly that you can’t keep track of where one of you starts and ends.

Reluctanly, you force yourself to separate from Felix's tender mouth just a few millimiters. "Lix, baby," you whisper lovingly on his lips. "You have no idea how long I wanted to do this."

"Y-you wanted this?" he pants, parting his legs more and allowing you to slot your body inbetween of them. His breath is sticky and hot and you feel yourself getting restless on top of him.

"Sweetheart. You have no idea how much I love you. How much I want you." You confess.

"But... but you've never–" he stutters under your gaze. "Oh God, don't tell me we've been this stupid!"

You chuckle and nod slowly. "Apparently, yes, we have been." You smile, and your chest is so full of fondness and love that it's hard to breathe. "And we wasted a lot of time. But at least we're here now."

Felix nods timidly and you lean in again, this time just kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin under his chin. You move closer to Felix's ear and then back towards his jaw. He starts to breathe harder, hands clutching the shirt of your pajamas, and his thumb brushes against the hardened nub of your nipple, making you hiss quietly.

Felix moans when you start licking at his lips again.

"Good?" you ask, smiling against his skin.

Felix nods. "Yeah. Y-you can keep going."

You comply, because you could never deny anything to him. You softly suck his upper lip between your teeth and let it go with a loud pop. Then you move to his neck again, and you bite him carefully a few times until Felix starts to squirm beneath you. The thought that you are the first person, the first woman, doing this to him has heat rushing to your face and you wonders if Felix wants to do more, or if he wants to keep things over the clothes. You are okay waiting. You've waited for years.

"Can I… can I ask you something?" he stutters when your hands find his hips and you start caressing them in tiny circles.

"Of course, Lix. You can ask me anything." you reassure him, rising your head from the crook of his neck and looking at him fondly.

"You know what we were talking about before," he breathes shyly, eyes big and teary. "I wasn't able to do anything with all the people I dated because... they were not you," he admits. "and – uh, I don't know how to say this. It's embarassing."

Felix sighs as he tries to hide his face behind his hands, but you stop him by grabbing his wrists.

"Do you want to try? Now?" you ask calmly, ignoring the burning lava that is flooding into your veins at the thought of having Felix like that, just for you.

Felix nods again, all soft and timid. "I wanna try. With you." He mutters as his hips buck involuntarily against yours for the first time. And that's when you notice that Felix is hard under you, cock stirring to life when you grind down into him as a response to his movement. "B-but I don't know anything, noona. You have to show me."

You hover your face over Felix's for a moment, searching something into his eyes before diving in again for a kiss. Felix hums languidly against you and you pull his tongue into your mouth, sucking on it before letting it go slowly, teeth dragging. Felix groans deep in his chest and you can feel the vibrations go straight to your pussy. Then the realization that you are finally doing it hits you.

You. And Felix.

I need to stay focused, you think when you start feeling your head becoming too clouded with desire. Felix feels so tender and warm against you, and it's difficult to concentrate when your arousal begins to pool in your panties, just a few layers of fabric separating your core from Felix's poor neglected cock. The kisses get sloppier but Felix doesn’t seem to mind, and you quickly find a rhythm between the movements of your lips and the gentle rocking of your body against his.

"What do you want to do, sweetheart? You can tell me." You hum as your mouth latches again onto the spot between Felix's neck and shoulder, sucking and then soothing the skin with your tongue.

"Ah, fuck…" Felix curses when your hand finally trails down his chest and lightly grazes his cock from over his pants. He feels sensitive and overwhelmed in the best way possible, and he feels like he is losing his mind already. "W-want to touch you, noona, please. Please, I've been wanting to touch you forever."

A tiny moan escapes from your parted lips at Felix's confession and you are pretty sure that your panties are now ruined for good. You can feel the hot stickiness gluing them to your entrance.

"Okay, baby." You sigh, shifting your weight in order to lift your hips a little from Felix's body. "You can touch me. I'll show you how. Is that what you want?"

Felix pants and his fists close again on your shirt as if he's trying to steady himself. "Y-yes please. Show me." He answers, and he looks completely blissed out, hair as a messy crown around his beautiful face.

"Okay." You concede, gathering all of your weight on your right arm to pull down both your pajamas shorts and underwear with just one quick motion, air finally hitting pungently the heath of your pussy.

Felix gulps and you see his Adam's apple bobbing deliciously as he stares at the way a sticky string of slick is connecting your entrance to the cotton of your panties. You feel your core pulsing at the sight and you let the garnments fall on the ground, climbing back to Felix's body and straddling his lap.

Felix looks up to you, but his eyes keep flicking back between your face and the mound of your pussy, and you try to thrust gently against the hard fabric of his jeans, just over his hardened erection. When you rock your hips tentatively on his bulge, your clit gets caught on the cold metal of his belt, making you hiss. Your pussy throbs, releasing a gush of arousal over where Felix's cockhead should be.

"Lixie, baby." You breathe out. "Noona needs your hand for this."

Felix cheeks are as red as cherries and he hiccups at your request, nodding twice and pliantly offering you his right hand. He places it just near your thigh, not daring to get any closer to your heath without any given permission.

You smile softly at him and you wrap your thumb and index around his wrist, bringing his palm to the front of your pussy and letting it brush against the hood of your clit for just a second. "I guess you watched porn before, uh, baby?" you ask him grinding gently on his hand. "I think you know a bit about female anatomy already."

Felix sighs and a wanton moan rises from his throat when he feels your engorged clit bumping against his skin. "Y-yes, I have." He blushes.

You laugh breathily at his shyness and you let his hand slide past your front to eventually press on your labia, guiding his slim fingers to spread the wetness gushing from your hole.

"Usually I prefer to be stimulated here," you say, nudging the pad of his thumb against your sensitive bud. "In little circles." and you move your hand in tandem with him, circling your clit and trembling a little from his insecure touch. Another spurt of arousal drips from your pussy and coaxes Felix's fingers, making him moan.

"But now I want it inside." Your voice is sickengly sweet, and Felix looks like he is one step away from hyperventilating. His teeth dig on his bottom lip and he sighs in pleasure.

"Please," he whines. "Please, let me."

You roll your hips so that the tips of his fingers catch your entrance, and suddenly you sink down in just one motion. His middle and ring finger meet you halfway, and he watches your face in adoration as the two digits push into you. You let out a small whimper when his palm finds your mound again, and you finally sit on him fully.

"Ah – noona. G-god." He keens as he feels his fingers being wrapped up with your warmth.

You lift up from him, desperate for some friction, your hand still grabbing his wrist to guide him and help him. "Baby, fuck, finally." You grunt as your hips swing forward and back to create a sort of rhythm. "Wanted you like this for the longest time, you have no idea."

Felix mewls as he hears the squelching sound of his hand against your throbbing cunt. The schlick schlick is filthy and loud, and his head starts spinning. "Noona, you are so soft, so warm. Fuck, why are you so wet?" He cries, eyes big and round and locked at the way your pussy is engulfing a part of himself.

The drag of his fingers makes your head floaty and you grind further down onto his knuckles, the stretch making you want more and more.

"That's how it's supposed to be with a woman, sweetheart. We are programmed to take." You chuckle breathily as you slowly but steadily fuck yourself onto Felix's fingers. "But you are too, right? My sweet boy. You are just taking what I am giving to you, isn't it?"

Felix moans and his pads involuntarily curl upwards, brushing against your gummy spot as his head falls back, deep groans tumbling out of his parted lips. "Ah – too wet noona, too wet. I wanna, w-wanna..."

"What? What do you want, baby? Tell me, I wanna hear." You sound rightfully out of breath while you fuck mercilessly Felix's digits and you flood his hand with your juices. You shift forward to kiss him on the mouth and his palm finds your clit again, sending jolts of pleasure through your spine.

"Wanna... w-wanna be with you. Please, noona, I've waited. I need – oh, God – I need you fully. I l-love you so much, I always wanted it to be with you." He sighs against your mouth before you can slot your lips together and lace your tongue on his, sucking the wet muscle slowly until Felix is reduced as a squirming mess under you.

"Oh my sweet boy, my angel," you praise him as you try to slow down your movements. If you keep going with this pace you will cum too soon, and you want to finish together with Felix for your first time.

Felix follows your mouth and with his free hand he timidly brushes your left breast, staring at the way it bounces with every thrust of your hips on his hand. It looks mesmerized by the way your body moves and gets wet over him, preparing itself to welcome him inside even if he doesn't properly know what to do.

With a low grunt, you force yourself to stop your thrusts and you peck Felix on his tumid, soft lips. His hand falls uselessly on his hip while you balance your body on his waist to finally get rid of your last piece of clothing, throwing the filmsy shirt of your pajamas away.

Felix looks at your naked body as he if he was admiring a painting and, despite of your confidence, you find yourself blushing a little under his devoted gaze. You dreamt about this moment so much, pondering that it would never come, and now it feels almost surreal to have Felix all for you as you always wanted.

"I love you, Felix." You whisper lovingly, a tear stuck on the corner of your eye. "I love you so much."

And Felix beams. His eyes, watery with pleasure, lit up and bring a smile to his beautiful face, the face that you wished you could caress and claim as yours for so many years. "I am yours, noona. Please, make me yours." He murmurs softly.

You kiss him again, and it's hungrier this time, even more than the kisses you already shared. And then the kissing melts into licking, and then into biting, until Felix's hand finds your waist and then falls to cup your ass.

"I need you out of these clothes in 10 seconds." You mutter with a breathy sound, and Felix is fervent to obey, quickly getting rid of his pants and underwear and throwing his pink hoodie away, far from you.

When you crawl back into his lap, Felix is sitting on the couch. You find your place on his legs, straddling him until you are face to face and you can hear the sweet sound of his erratic breathing against your ear.

"I want to do it like this." You breathe out, gently nipping at his lips and then placing a small kiss at the corner of his mouth. "Wanna see you."

Felix sighs and his aching cock, now finally free from the constriction of his pants, throbs against your lower belly, spurting a gush of precum which dribbles into your navel. "I can't believe this is really happening." He hiccups, pleasure making his head feel dizzy.

You smile fondly. "Me neither." And you bring your hand down, resting your hot palm over his shaft and giving pressure until you are dragging the skin of his cock up and down. Felix melts with a breathy mewl.

Felix has a perfect cock, you think, and then you say it out loud. "You have a perfect cock, baby."

Felix gasps and he throws his head back, hitting the cushion of the couch. You can see that his face is flushed with arousal and embarassment, and that makes you feel lightheaded.

"So perfect," you continue, playing with your fingers and bringing your thumb to the engorged tip, smearing the thick droplets of precum all along his aching muscle until you graze his balls. "Perfect size, perfect girth, perfect color. You know how pretty your cock is, baby? Not too long, but chubby. I love it."

"Noona," Felix sighs painfully, thighs parting under your weight to give you more space. He looks fucked up, and you barely touched him.

"I want to play with it forever," you say, picking up your pace and jerking him fully. "And I will do it. I will touch this sweet cock all day long, making it cum so many times, making it feel so so so good."

"Please, please, please." Felix keens and throbs again on your hand, now hard as a rock and trying to stay as still as he can.

"It looks so tasty, too. Wanna slurp it in one bite." You whisper as you swirl your index on the slit of his cockhead and Felix lets out the sweetest groan you could imagine. It's so easy to pleasure him, and he responds to you so well.

"But not now," you reassure him. "Now I need you inside of me. Need you as deep as you can. Need you to be mine."

Felix forces his eyes open and his hands grip into the underside of your thighs, bringing you closer to him. You cross your arms behind his neck, slotting your lips together once again because you just can't get enough of Felix's breathy moans as you bring him to the edge with you.

"Noona, I don't, ah– I don't have a condom." He urges to tell you when you circle your hips against him and his tip catches the entrance of your pussy.

"We don't need a condom. I am on the pill, and I am clean." You pull away to mouth at Felix's neck, and you suck at the column until you are gliding your mouth over his Adam's apple. "And you are too, obviously. Don't worry about that, sweetheart. I need to feel you all hard and raw inside of me."

You kiss Felix again, breaths coming out in restless wisps, hips frantic. "Can you take it?" you ask against his lips, your right hand gripping Felix's wet cock. Felix nods, gulping loudly. With your arm reached behind you and your head dipped forward, you slap the tip against your cunt, eyes never leaving his face.

Felix swallows, and you can feel his heart racing as you nudge his cockhead against your heath, pussy clenching and unclenching for pleasure. You look at him in the eyes for one last time, and then you sink.

When Felix's tip breeches, you whimper at the stretch with you head lolled to the side. You push your hips down, taking Felix's chubby cock slowly until you’re seated on it. And, with his cock fully inside, Felix groans and tears finally spill from his eyes, wetting his cheeks and rolling down to his chin.

"Ah– oh, God, please! P-ple eh e-ease." He cries as he grips your hips so tight that he is gonna leave marks.

"Easy, baby. Easy." You pant, eyes rolling on your skull at the way the head of his cock presses perfectly on your spongy spot. Felix's tongue lolls out from his mouth, and you take the tip between your lips, suckling lightly on it before lifting your hips up and then slamming back again.

"It's too tight, too tight, too w-wet," Felix sobs, a dribble of saliva forming a tiny bubble at the top of his upper lip. You lower your head to look at the way you are taking Felix to the brim, his swollen balls resting on the curve of your ass, and you let out a lewd sound at the view.

But it's not enough, because this is Felix's first time, and you just know from the way he is trembling that he is not gonna last long, the poor angel he is. You played with him a bit too long considering his inexperience, and now you can feel him twitching inside of you, bringing you close as well with just a few pumps.

"I know, baby, I know. You feel so fucking good too. You fill me so well, look." And you take one of the hands that are gripping your hips, making it slide against your pussy to let him feel the point were you two are connected.

Felix grasps the base of his cock with his wrist and he tries to push it even deeper inside of your wet heath with a loud groan. "It's so, s-so good." He repeats mindlessly.

You gather all of your strength, gripping into Felix's shoulders in front of you and letting you knees carry your weight as you finally begin to ride his cock. You raise your ass up just to feel the tip catch at your rim only to force back down, fast and hard.

"Noona, ah– noona!" Felix grunts out, "F-fuck, I can't, I c-can't!"

At a particularly deep thrust, Felix cries out again, a slew of filthy words and many slurred versions of your name coming out of his red, juicy lips.

"Baby, Felix, baby." You moan, letting yourself fall against his chest and beginning to move your hips in circles. You feel his cock hitting deliciously at your cervix and your clit rubbing on Felix's hip bone.

"I lo-oh-ove you." Unable to help it, Felix begins to thrust up quickly, grinding his cock inside of you and smashing his warm cheek against your shoulder, as you involuntarily squeeze your walls around his shaft.

You are trying to make this last a little bit more, but a tight coil of pleasure starts to form in your lower belly, and Felix's heavy and raspy whines tell you that he is in your same conditions. "Feels so good, sweetheart. So thick and hot, you are making me cum, ah– so quick." You blabber, head feeling floaty. "Are you close too? Tell me you are close. Wanna come with you."

Felix hiccups and his thrusts become messy and erratic, cock leaking inside of you as you clench around him. "Close, close, s-so close." He picks you up by your thighs to throw you onto his cock as if you were weightless. "Can I, ah a-ahhh, w-where can I–?" he sobs out with every thrust.

"Inside, Lix, my love. Cum inside," you praise him. "So good to me. So good." And you whine as Felix fucks desperately into you, a thick layer of sweat on his freckled skin.

Two more pushes are what it takes to have your pussy clenching hard and tight around Felix, and as your clit rubs one last time against his pubic bone, your eyes roll backwards and you cum with a filthy long moan, flooding Felix's cock with your juices.

As the orgasm hits you, you smash your lips against Felix's and suffocate your whines on his mouth. As soon as Felix feels you pulsing around his drooly cock, you see him going cross-eyed. Then, he pushes almost violently into your heath and comes with one final, deep smash of his cock, filling you up.

Voice hoarse with pleasure and a little out of breath, Felix moans softly, face finding its comforting place in the crook of your neck. "I love you." he whispers.

You both stay silent for a couple of minutes, and you loll your head to the side to huff warm breaths that tickle Felix's temples.

"How do you feel?" You asks, bringing your fingers to slowly pet Felix's damp hair. You tongue feels heavy inside your mouth, and your legs muscles sting. But you are happy.

"I feel like I waited for this moment for my entire life." Felix's words are slow and shy, despite of what just happened between the two of you. You can feel him chuckling against your shoulder. "I still have to process what is going on."

"We have time." You murmur, kissing his forehead and hugging him lovingly, keeping him safe in your arms. "Now we have all the time in the world."

Felix smiles. The room is not dark anymore.

©️ jilixthinker, 2024. please do not copy, translate, or republish my works anywhere.

2K notes · View notes

sohnric · 1 year ago

Text

plot twist – k. sunwoo

pairing: kim sunwoo x gn! reader

genre: coworkers au, enemies to lovers au. fluff, a poor attempt at comedy. movie theatre! worker sunwoo and reader. bitch boy sunwoo. the reader has anger issues. owner's son! sunwoo being annoying about everything. winter themes, sunwoo is a little kid about stuff but mostly the snow.

wc: 21k

warnings: swearing, a heated make out session. y/n's inner monologue is just my own feelings about this man im sorry. i watched too much of the office when writing this can you tell. also i made sunwoo's sister underage for plot reasons deal with it.

working with kim sunwoo has so far been the worst experience of your whole entire life. just his existence alone is enough to make your day completely miserable– though, one would think that working with movies on the daily would prepare you for the biggest plot twist of your life.

a/n: this took me SO LONG to write woah. i have a humble playlist for this fic if any of yall wanna listen to it while you read <3 a huge thank you goes to my best friend @csenke for being my biggest motivator and hype man when it came to this fic. thank u for being my first ever beta reader hihi i couldn't have done this without you i am forever grateful ily. also im tagging @heemingyu because whe told me to

ho ho ho! this fic is a part of the secret santa event by @deoboyznet ! @kimsohn maya, i was your secret santa this year, i hope you enjoy the fic i prepared for you

TONIGHT'S PREMIERE – UGLY TRUTH (2009)

If anyone ever asked you about your job in the movie theater, you wouldn’t really know what to say.

You see, what may had seemed like your dream job when you were little, acquiring the fairytale vision after going to the cinema for the first time to see the Horton movie when you were just 7, quickly turned into reality one ordinary day during your junior year of university. And it wasn’t even that hard; you just dropped off your CV at the movie theater on the corner of the town's square when you saw the sign that said ‘looking for part-timers’ in a messy, giant handwriting on the glass door– and soon enough, you found yourself in the depths of the vintage-looking cinema, wearing the red uniform the owner gave you, selling movie tickets to teenagers and taking out the trash. It’s hard to enjoy the job when you’re on bathroom cleaning duty, though, and the fact that this is what you once imagined to be the most exciting job in the whole entire world turns twice as boring when you realize just how mundane it really is.

Still, you can’t bring yourself to quit, well, because you need the money.

Do you hate working in the cinema? No. Not really. Sure, it’s kind of boring– especially on the nights when you’re selling tickets at the front and nobody comes in for hours– but it’s not that difficult. It’s not physically or mentally demanding, so you’d say that you’re still on the better end when it comes to work environment. Your boss isn’t a dick and you get paid on time– so really, if anyone asked you if you hated it, your answer would be no.

Until one fateful day, of course.

You’re met with a person that’s going to efficiently change this opinion around in one swift bat of their eyelashes and a drag of their hand through their messy hair.

“So… you’re the new part-timer?” a tall boy asks you one day when you arrive at work. You’re already wearing your uniform when you come through the front door– since you don’t really feel like changing in the toilets that are not staff-exclusive here– and frankly, his voice startles you on your way in.

“Yeah,” you nod, furrowing your brows at the stranger. “And you are…?”

“Sunwoo,” the boy says, matter-of-factly, as if you’re supposed to know who exactly he is now that he’s introduced himself to you. The look on your face may show that you’re still clueless, and see, that’s something that must have played with the boy’s ego. “Kim Sunwoo,” he snickers, “the owner’s son..?”

Blinking a few times, trying to remember if Mr Kim’s ever told you about having a son– he hasn’t– you gasp like a fish on the dry, nodding. “Oh… Hello..?” you mumble, not really knowing what to do with the information.

“Hi,” he says, face stone cold and motionless. Something’s wrong, but you can’t quite put your finger on it….

Well, you’ll have to deal with that later. “My shift starts in 5 minutes, so I gotta find Mr- your dad, and ask him what’s on my to-do list today, but it was nice meeting you,” you try to force out a polite (maybe even warm) smile before you turn on your heel and march towards the staff room, where Mr Kim usually resigns unless he is helping you out with something at the front. See, on not busy days, working at the cinema requires only one person. On Fridays, though, it can get tough. That’s when the owner makes the popcorn while you both sell and scan the tickets at the same time– sometimes you wonder why he doesn’t hire another person to help out with the job.

“Wait– newbie–”

The nickname startles you, again, as you turn around and squint at him. You have a name– and although he has no way of knowing it (other than his father telling him, but seeming that you didn’t even know about his son, Mr Kim isn’t big on sharing information)– but still, you’d love to be called by it. “It’s Y/N, actually.”

“Oh, right…” he hums, “well, Y/N, dad’s not here tonight, so… I’m… kind of in charge,” he says, nodding as he gets the words out, trying to prove his point, “he had other things to take care of, so he sent me down instead,” he explains, watching as your face morphs into one of quick understatement.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he nods, sucking on his teeth.

Thick silence overtakes the atmosphere. You feel awkward and out of place.

“So…?” you hum, waiting for him to tell you what to do.

Because a guy your age ordering you around at work is already embarrassing enough for a university student just trying to pay for their groceries. You’re not gonna ask for the orders yourself. You still have some dignity.

“So… I could take the ticket booth and you can clean the screening room, since there are no movies on tonight?” he suggests, rocking on his heels. The boy seems a bit shaken with the new sense of responsibility, but you figure that even his undoubtful awkwardness still doesn't put you above his position.

You mentally sigh. Cleaning is your least favorite part of the job.

Still, you’re not gonna talk back to your boss’ son. You’d like to keep your job for a while longer. At least until you find something better.

“Alright,” you nod, turning on your heels once more and preparing to disappear into the depths of the cinema.

His voice stops you again, though, frustration flowing through your veins. “Don’t forget to mop the floors! Oh, and the bathroom could use a clean as well.”

“Alright,” you nod again, your back facing him.

“Also, you need to get the gum off the chairs, I know it’s kind of disgusting, but there’s a-”

“I know how to do my job, thank you,” you turn, smiling ironically over your shoulder.

You don’t know what it is about the man that makes you so, so incredibly irritated. Maybe it’s the fact that every bit of information coming out of his mouth sounds like he’s mansplaining everything to you. Maybe it’s the fact that you feel humiliated to be told what to do by a man that’s your age. Or maybe, it’s just the sheer fact that you hate cleaning– the one thing he just told you to do.

Still, you go and get the vacuum. You go and mop the floors, you go and take the gum off the chairs and scrape it into a bucket you keep in the pantry in the back. You go and clean the bathroom, even though it’s 10 minutes until the end of your shift (you only work 4 hours on Wednesdays) and you spent almost your whole day cleaning the whole screening room by yourself (the screening room that’s giant and Mr Kim helps you with on most days). You go and wipe the mirror in the bathroom, as well as the windows in the hall.

You say that your work in the cinema is not physically demanding, but by the time you’re out, your back hurts and your knees are all bruised up from getting on the ground so often.

What really sets you off, though, is the sight of the owner’s son sitting in the booth, both legs up on the table and chewing on something, his phone in his hands as he watches, what you presume from the language resonating from the speaker, a silly anime. At least someone had fun during their shift, you think as you leave without saying goodbye to him, slamming the door behind you with a loud bang on your way out.

Quite frankly, you didn’t know what set you off so bad this time. Maybe you just had a bad day. Maybe it could've been fixed with your next shared shift with the guy– you never know.

Little did you know that it was only going to get worse from now on, though.

TONIGHT'S PREMIERE – PALM SPRINGS (2020)

If you knew your boss’s son would play the role of your supervisor from time to time, you probably wouldn't have taken the job when it was offered to you.

Why?

The reason is quite simple– while you go to work to make money, Kim Sunwoo goes to work to make your whole life a living hell. Ranging from always giving you the more difficult task of the day to making unfunny jokes about your performance (he once asked if you ran a marathon after you mopped the whole hall, his grinning figure staring at you from inside of the ticket booth), you’re starting to think that Kim Sunwoo is mentally stuck with the brain of an 11-year old boy.

More so with his recent endeavors. You don’t really know what he’s trying to achieve with all of this, but you’re starting to despise going to work even when you know he’s not on the schedule– somehow, you’re afraid his silly pranks and jokes will follow you and surprise you even when he’s not present. Is this his way of asserting dominance? You really don’t know.

It all starts one day before a movie premiere when Sunwoo walks up to you and introduces you to a new concession item to sell in the snack booth. While you don’t really know why one would even think of new combinations to sell at a cinema, since everyone’s just gonna get popcorn or nachos, you don’t really question the idea much further– Sunwoo’s father owns this place, so he must know the best marketing strategies for his business. The reality only downs on you when you’re forced to promote the “Ultimate movie mix” to every customer– which wouldn’t even be that strange, if the mix didn’t include the weird combination of pickles and candy.

Running on two all nighters and half an energy drink, you didn’t realize the snack stand doesn’t even hold pickles. You were notified the day after by your boss, though, and that wasn’t your best experience.

The terror follows when Sunwoo’s father decides to run a Star Wars marathon one weekend. The flood of customers wouldn’t be as hard to manage when you run the snack stand, but it does get more difficult when your coworker running around with a lightsaber knocks over all the buckets of freshly-made popcorn you just put on the counter for the customers to take.

He doesn’t even say sorry. Or help clean the spilled popcorn up from the floor. Or help you make a new batch.

He just laughs.

Sunwoo just loves to laugh at you. Like that one time he made you wear a giant popcorn costume and stand in front of the cinema for the entirety of your 4 hour shift on Wednesday to promote the new movie airing on Friday. Hardly anyone took the fliers you were desperately trying to force into their hands and when you came back, you saw Sunwoo pointing his camera at you from the big glass window.

The next shift, his dad asked you how Sunwoo did when promoting the movie. You didn’t have the heart to tell him he forced you to do the dirty business instead.

Another time, Sunwoo informs you via text in the middle of your shift that you should clean the bathrooms. The fact itself already makes you furious, but you follow the order nonetheless– because, well, what else can you do? You’re used to cleaning the toilets, since it’s a part of your job. It’s just the fact that a guy your age told you to that’s making you rethink all your career decisions.

The trip to the bathrooms quickly turns traumatizing when you step inside of the tiled room and have the door behind you close with a loud bang, followed by the light switching off. Screeching, you jump and try to escape the room with fear making your heart run faster than Usain Bolt, however, you find the door seemingly locked– the sound of Sunwoo’s snarky laugh coming from the other side making you recognise what just happened and how he’s pulling another one of his childish pranks on you again.

When the door finally opens, you throw the toilet brush into his chest and scream out a “I’m going to fucking quit if I see your face one more time!”. You’re over all formalities.

That doesn’t mean you’re not scared every time you enter a room in the cinema when you work with Sunwoo, though. Your reaction was strengthened very abruptly, you see.

Sitting in the ticket booth, door ajar to monitor your surroundings, you plop your head on your hand and glare at Sunwoo, chewing on your gum. If anyone saw you right now, they’d think you were trying to kill him with your stare, but the opposite would actually be the truth tonight– you were quite enjoying the sight of him wiping the sweat off his forehead and scowling at the neverending flow of customers.

The beauty of having ticket booth duty on premiere night is that everyone bought the tickets beforehand already, meaning that it wasn’t usually busy. Scanning the tickets and running the snack booth were the more difficult parts of the shift, and since Mr Kim decided to show up to work today, Sunwoo was graced with the snack booth duty– something that warmed you up from the inside and made you want to kiss your boss’s feet in gratefulness.

There’s just something about seeing Kim Sunwoo in misery that makes your stomach turn and do cartwheels. You’re in love with his pathetic, tired face.

His eyes meet yours when he takes a moment to breathe– the look behind them is pleading, almost embarrassingly hopeless as he internally wishes he was in your place. You think this serves him right for the weeks of torture, and when he becomes you to come over with a motion of his hand, you just shrug at him and bat your eyelashes in faked innocence.

It’s not your fault he’s on duty tonight. What does he want with you?

His lips mouth “Come here,” which makes you battle a satisfied smile. Poor Kim Sunwoo is helpless in his task. The rush just won’t stop and he’s asked of more than he can handle. You kind of feel sadistic when you truly think about your sentiments, but you think you’re only valid for feeding on his misery.

“Help!” he mouths again, and now you truly can’t battle the laughter anymore. His hair is tousled and sticking to his forehead. His uniform is dirty. The tie around his neck is loose. The sight makes you utterly satisfied.

As he mouths “Please,” accompanied by clasped hands and a pleading look that would work on most women, you finally decide to stand up from the uncomfortable chair in the ticket booth and shake your head in disbelief. You can’t even count how many times Sunwoo left you alone in the rush before a premiere, but you can’t really risk his father finding out you didn’t come to rescue his beloved son, since however you might hate this job, you still can’t lose it in your current living conditions.

Sighing and closing the door to the ticket booth after you, your legs take you to the snack stand. Eyes of enthusiastic customers looking almost high on coca cola and the smell of salted popcorn are on you when you finally reach Sunwoo’s side.

“So I’m supposed to help you with your work whenever you ask, but when I’m left cleaning the whole theater completely alone, you can sit around and play on your phone?” you jab, annoyed with the turn of events. You find a spare apron and tie it around your waist, not really wanting to dirty your uniform as you pour caramel into some buckets of popcorn, hearing your companion chuckle next to you.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Okay, so I’ll be back in the ticket booth after serving this customer-”

“My dad’s watching.”

“This is blackmailing,” you snap back, smiling ironically at your coworker.

Sunwoo grins at you when he hands two cokes to the teenage girls behind the counter, shrugging to himself. “Not my problem.”

You learned long ago that fighting with Kim Sunwoo is a battle you can never win. Logically, you know you’re always right, but the boy always thinks he should have the last word in everything, which makes ending an argument with him pretty much impossible. That’s why you stopped trying to prove your truth. In your heart, you know how it is, and no amount of snarky remarks from the feisty boy will change your opinion.

You two work alongside each other in silence for some time. You’d even say it’s efficient– you make the popcorn and he makes the nachos, both of you taking turns behind the coca cola machine, and after a few minutes in his proximity when he’s not being the butt of the Earth, your brain starts to question why you two can’t operate like this on a daily basis.

Oh, how foolish of you.

You’re quickly brought back to reality when you walk over with the grande size bucket of popcorn towards the counter, meeting halfway with Kim Sunwoo’s chest.

It takes everything in you not to scream, but the restraint is deleted as soon as you feel something cold dripping down the front of your uniform, your white button-up suddenly sticking towards your chest in a big, dark-brown pool around your waist area. One sharp look into his eyes is everything it takes you two to come to a mutual understanding of what your next action is gonna be– Sunwoo quickly puts the now empty cup of coca cola onto the counter and puts a hand towards his head in self-disappointment.

“Kim Sunwoo, are you fucking incompetent?!” you scream out, the sensation of your cold shirt sticking to your already sweaty skin making you want to crawl out of yourself and scratch your coworker’s eyes out with the claws of the demon he wakes up in you.

“Look, you don’t have to-”

“I just washed this yesterday, there’s a line of people waiting for their snacks up to the fucking front door, you just ruined the popcorn I made so now I have to redo it, and you just decide to spill this onto me?!” you continue with your rampage, not really caring about the eyes of everyone on you, just letting out all your built-up frustration that creeps inside of you every time you see his face.

“As if I did this on purpose…” he grunts as he turns around in his place and reaches for napkins, not really putting much thought into his actions as he presses the material into the damp place sticking to your skin.

The image startles you– Kim Sunwoo almost in physical contact with you, a paper napkin soaking up some of the coca cola flooding the surface of your skin– and as you watch his slender palms run over your front, your eyes falling to the fluffy hair at the crown of his head, you feel heat rushing to your insides, making you jump away from him.

“Sorry-” he mumbles out as you forcefully pry the napkin out of his hand, gritting your teeth.

“I’m starting to think you’re making me do everything just because you’re useless,” you spit at him.

Rolling his eyes, Sunwoo pokes his cheek with the tip of his tongue. “It was an accident.”

“Don’t care,” you grunt, walking away from the booth, “I’m going to change in the back, you better not burn the place down with the popcorn machine before I’m back,” you comment, sending him a sharp glare over your shoulder.

All that accompanies you to the staff room is Sunwoo’s loud sigh and a sugary-sweet tone he offers to one of the customers as he throws the ruined popcorn into the trash. “I’ll be right with you, miss!”

If anyone asked you if you hated your job now, you think you’d say yes.

Who are you kidding?

You’d definitely say yes.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – THE HATING GAME (2021)

You were quite pleased on your way to work today. It’s Wednesday, which usually means it’s not as busy. The weather is cloudy– good enough to not make you gloomy, but not quite sunny enough to make you wish you were outside instead of being stuck in the cinema the whole afternoon– and you packed a home-made sandwich with you to eat on your lunch break. Which is whenever, since you’re on ticket booth duty today– another great news.

The best thing about today, though? Kim Sunwoo isn’t working today.

That alone is good enough to make your whole entire day better. The sun shines brighter, your breathing is lighter, the air is clearer and the birds chirp louder when you know you don’t have to interact with the hellspawn that day. It’s like his absence alone is enough to heal all your wounds and delete all your worries– who cares about the fact that you’re barely getting through your Biology class when you know you won’t have to stare at Sunwoo’s face as you contemplate dropping out of university during your shift?

Maybe you should thank him, in a way.

And with all of this knowledge, a smile plastered on your face as you’re prepared to sit through your 5-hour shift in silence with an occasional swipe through your social media and a well deserved chicken-mayo sandwich towards the end of your shift, it’s quite natural for your smile to freeze and your spirit fall the moment you see the mop of dark brown hair walk through the doors of the cinema.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” you mourn as he walks by, only realizing you said the sentence out loud when the boy looks at you with a scowled face, a scoff escaping his throat.

“Didn’t know we were speaking to each other in third person now,” he says as he stops in his tracks and plops his head into the door to your booth, infesting your calm abode with his presence.

Deep breaths. In and out, Y/N. In and out…

“Hello to you too, Y/N,” he smiles, irony dripping off his tongue, “having a good day so far?”

“It was better without you here, thank you,” you snap back, rolling your eyes at him when his eyes flash with something akin to a victory– it seems you both take joy in making the other one absolutely miserable with your presence.

“Sweet,” he nods on his way out, grinning to himself. “Well, I won’t be long, so don’t let your mood drop too much.”

With that, he’s out of the ticket booth. All that’s left behind him is the smell of his cologne– the tingle of lemon and bergamot filling your nostrils in a way that makes the fine hair at the back of your neck stand up all alert– and silence. It makes you wonder about his whereabouts– you can never know… what if he’s setting up a trap for you somewhere? You wouldn’t be half surprised. You make a mental note to yourself to be twice as cautious when going to the bathroom next time. Just to make sure.

Before you’re able to think of any possible situations that Sunwoo could get himself caught in (while completely ignoring the fact that his father is somewhere in his office in the back– for all you know, he might just need to talk to your boss, like a son does sometimes), the woodworm of your thoughts appears in your view again, two rolled-up tubes under his shoulder as he walks over to the front door.

“Wait! What are those?” you ask, eyes zeroing on the very clear posters in his grip. The shiny white back of the big posters you have to sometimes put up in the front of the cinema are unmistakable to anything else.

“Posters,” Sunwoo replies, calling over his shoulder, already halfway out of the building.

“I know what those are–”

“Then why are you asking?” he huffs, shaking his head in disbelief as he takes a few steps towards the ticket booth, eyes meeting yours. His figure fills the door frame as he towers over you, still sitting on the chair. His eyes have a different kind of twinkle in them– you think, no, you know it’s mischief– making the blood in your veins boil at deadly temperatures.

“Because– well,” you huff, already frustrated, “we’re not allowed to take these,” you say, pointing to the two posters under his shoulder like a kid in the candy store. You try to ignore just how embarrassing you must look right in this moment.

“Oh,” he pouts, taking the posters from below his shoulder, unraveling one of them and resting the other one against the doorframe, “so you’re telling me… I can’t take those two amazingly big, shiny, cool posters of the latest Spiderman movie home for me and my friend Juyeon?”

You’re only half-aware of the fact that he’s teasing you right now, sighing at his innocent face. “No, Sunwoo. You can’t.”

“Hm,” he hums, looking at the poster from top to the bottom, seemingly sad about the news, “that’s terrible. Says who?”

“Your… your father, Sunwoo. He told me when I asked him the other day if I could take–”

“You wanted to take posters home from the cinema?” he gasps, looking at you with big eyes. He looks stupid. So, terribly stupid. Dumb. No thought behind his eyes. You want to smash his head against a concrete wall.

…He’s teasing you. It finally dawns on you.

Now, you want to smash your head against a concrete wall.

Still, you admit defeat with a solemn tone in your voice. “Well, I really wanted the Enola Holmes poster to put up in my bedroom…” you mumble.

“And my dad said no?” he asks, eyebrows quirking up towards his hairline.

“Yes, Sunwoo. Your father said it’s prohibited to take posters home from the cinema, that’s exactly why I’m stopping you right now,” you say, tone filled with annoyance. You know he’s enjoying your face full of misery. But still, if there’s one thing you’re good at, it’s following the rules and orders– if Mr Kim says you can’t take the posters home, you’ll go in the back and tear them into pieces before throwing them into the bin like you’re told to.

If things were going your way, you’d advise Sunwoo to do the same.

A day with Kim Sunwoo in it never goes your way, though. You should’ve been prepared.

“So I can’t take those posters home because my dad said no?” he clarifies, looking like a dummy. Like one of those kids that ask the most obvious questions during exams. Like one of those kids you want to sucker punch in the face.

“Sunwoo–”

“Well, Y/N-ie,” he purrs, the nickname making your hands curl up in fists, “that’s too bad… because I am the owner’s son, so… the rules don’t really apply to me, you see.”

And with that, he sends another sickeningly sweet smile your way before he turns on his heel and marches towards the front door again– not responding to any of your annoyed, infuriated calls of his name. He doesn’t stop at your warnings. He doesn’t care.

And just like that, he disappears just as fast as he appeared. The interaction didn’t last more than 10 minutes, but you consider your whole day ruined.

Fucking Sunwoo and his fucking privileges. And his fucking annoying face.

It’s not even that important. It’s just two posters that would get thrown out to the dumpster in the back at the end of your shift anyway. You don’t even care about those posters in particular– you just with equal rules applied to all workers in the workplace.

It’s not like Spiderman Homecoming is one of your favorite movies… not at all.

You could’ve had that poster. You deserved that poster. You sold tickets for it and served the snack booth when it premiered– not Kim Sunwoo and whatever his friend’s name was.

You kick the wall with your sneaker. It leaves a dirty mark.

You should’ve known the day felt too good to be true.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING (1993)

There’s a new thing Mr Kim is trying to lure more customers into the cinema. He calls it ‘Rewind Thursdays’, where he picks a movie from the past and airs it in the theater again to bring out nostalgia in the whole town. You think it’s a good idea– you remember when the Harry Potter movies had a rerun back when you were little, ecstatic that you finally got to see them in the cinema because you missed out on the experience when they were coming out for the first time. You went even though you saw them all before, and you had a blast. So in your books, this was the best thing that could happen to the little, old movie theater on the corner of the town’s square.

You were overbeared with joy when Mr Kim went up to you during one of your slow Wednesday shifts in the ticket booth with a paper and a pen, requesting you to write down your favorite movies. He informed you that he’d prefer it if they were older, to, quote, really get the nostalgia going, and you were happy to have some say in the list of movies to play for multiple reasons. One, because it meant he valued your opinion, and two, you don’t usually work on Thursdays, so if your favorite movie is on that day, you can go and relax in the cinema while watching it.

This all happened a few weeks ago. You gave the list back to your boss at the end of your shift, smiling brightly just thinking about it, and he told you he’ll get through it and see what he can incorporate.

The plan gets to you on one uneventful Wednesday. You are stuck in the ticket booth again. Today is one of the Wednesdays where Sunwoo is in charge, because Mr Kim is out of town. You hate those days most of them all, but recently, he’s been giving you your freedom and letting you work in the ticket booth instead of cleaning the already clean cinema, saying he has stuff to do in the back. You suspect he just sits around in his father’s office with his legs on the table, chewing on his obnoxious strawberry mints. The image makes you furious only the tiniest bit, because the fact that he’s out of your sight and isn’t ordering you around is enough to calm your nerves. It could always be worse, you remind yourself. It could always be worse.

“I have the schedule of ‘Rerun Thursdays’ all done,” Sunwoo says as he walks up to the ticket booth close to the end of your shift. His eyes look a little tired when he holds up a thick card to you, the design of the poster making your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Did he do that?

“It’s ‘Rewind Thursdays’, actually,” you note, pointing towards the very obvious mistake on the top of the poster.

“Oh fuck– you know what, not anymore,” he scowls, taking the poster back from you and pointing glares at the title he mistyped, “I spent 3 hours on this, I’m not remaking it.”

“It looks like a kindergartener did it,” you note, eyes scanning the bubbly font and the orange-yellow combination used throughout the whole design when he offers the paper back to you. It looks like a Winnie the Pooh convention is taking place instead of an event full of nostalgic movies, and you would tell him that, but he beats you to it with a tired remark.

“Well, if my father wanted this to look professional, he should’ve hired someone to do it,” he mutters, obviously hurt by your harsh words, “I used Canva. I don’t know how Photoshop works and my dad can barely operate the computer, so this is what we’re going with, okay?” he says as he explains, big eyes suddenly bearing into yours. “Unless you wanna redo it yourself…?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then this is the final poster,” he says, “I’m gonna hang those outside when we close,” he notes, watching you scan the movie titles. The event will take place in 4 weeks from the middle of November to the middle of December (right in time for Christmas movies to air, since you’re certain Mr Kim has another Christmas-themed business tactic up his sleeve).

“Did any of your movies make it?” Sunwoo asks, surprisingly friendly. You can’t remember a single casual conversation with the male– all you two do it either give each other the silent treatment or scream at each other (more like you scream at him, but he always deserves it…), so you’re kind of surprised at the change. Not pleasantly surprised. Just surprised.

Eyes falling to the second movie on the list, you feel yourself nodding as you smile. It’s like a dream come true– you can finally see your favorite movie in the cinema for the first time. You don’t know who to thank for this miracle, but something in your insides feels very grateful.

“Yeah,” you say, trying to seem unaffected. You’d rather kill yourself than to show any signs of emotion in front of Kim Sunwoo. All he deserves to see is your stone cold face.

“Which one?” he asks, seemingly interested.

“National treasure,” you hum, pointing to the movie on the list, having Sunwoo nod to himself. You expect him to say something to you– perhaps engage in a conversation like a normal person would– but suddenly, he gasps and takes out a folded piece of paper from his back pocket, offering it to you and playing the role of the manager again.

“Oh, by the way,” he starts, watching as you unfold the paper, “I know we don’t usually work on Thursdays, but since my dad decided to do all of this, we kinda have to, since he wouldn’t be able to handle the premieres on his own, so… Here's your schedule for the next 4 weeks,” he says, clasping his hands together in front of him.

It takes everything in you to not correct the male and tell him that those are technically not premieres, but when your eyes land on the little Excel table Sunwoo printed out for you, the feeling is overpowered with one of deep disappointment.

“I work the second week?” you ask, as if the question might magically change the schedule.

“I mean, I think you can read…” Sunwoo hums, shrugging to himself.

A heartbeat passes by of you staring at the schedule, a pit opening in your stomach at the realization. You only work 2 Thursdays out of 4, noticing the fact that you rotate with Sunwoo (with him somehow taking the first week, much to your surprise), but for some reason, one of those days had to be the day when National treasure is on.

And sure, you might think this is good– you can just watch the movie while you work!

Wrong.

Working means either staying in the ticket booth the whole time in case a customer comes, working the snack booth the whole time in case a customer comes, or cleaning the bathrooms. Working means also standing in front of the screening room sometimes, making sure no one is going in without a ticket in the middle of the movie.

There is no time for you to watch National treasure if you’re working.

Sighing, you decide to do something you always prohibited yourself from doing– you ask Kim Sunwoo for a favor. “Listen… my favorite movie is airing the week I work, so I was… wondering if we could exchange shifts? So I could go and watch it?” you ask, looking at your coworker with what you presume are pleading eyes. You hope it works on the boy– he looks like the type to fold under a tender gaze.

“So you want to get out of work only to still come?” Sunwoo clarifies, snickering.

“Pretty much, yeah,” you nod, tapping your fingers on the table.

“Well, the schedule is set,” Sunwoo shrugs, “I can’t do anything about it.”

Eyes sending darts to the very middle of Kim Sunwoo’s forehead, you take a few calming breaths before you speak up again. You don’t want to blow up on him when you’re asking him for a favor– you don’t think this approach would help you much in the situation.

“Why?”

“Because,” he shrugs.

“Because?” you repeat. “That’s the reason?” you say, a weak laugh dragging out of your throat.

“Pretty much, yeah,” he mirrors your previous response, the blood in your veins already growing hot from the confrontation.

“Sunwoo, you– come on,” you say, “just this once, please? I’ll take the first week. We can just switch, what’s the difference?”

Sunwoo tongues the inside of his cheek, eyes pointing towards the paper. “Schedule is schedule, Y/N. You have to follow it,” he says, an innocent look glazing his big fuckass boba eyes. Oh how you despise that look. It’s the look that tells you he finds this all so, so amusing, but won’t laugh in your face in hopes of teasing you some more.

“Oh, amazing,” you say, throwing the schedule to the table, “I knew I could always count on you ruining my day, Kim Sunwoo. And I bet you did the schedule as well! You knew it was my favorite movie, so you made me work that week. Very nice of you, you dumbass. Thank you very much,” you grunt, annoyance flowing through your brain and making you truly merciless– you have no proof of Sunwoo even knowing which movie of yours made it in, or proof of him making the schedule– you don’t care, though. All you want at this moment is to claw his eyes out and pop them in between your fingers to ease the anger on your insides.

You can’t do that, though, so a screaming match will have to do the job.

“Stop being so dramatic,” he scoffs, eyebrows furrowing. “I didn’t even know which one your favorite movie was, so how could I do this on purpose? Plus, I didn’t even make the schedule, my dad did–”

“As if I would believe that,” you roll your eyes, huffing. “You’re all owner’s son privileges this, owner’s son privileges that, but when I ask you for one thing, one! Single! Fucking! Thing! You can’t do it,” you bite, words dripping in spite.

“Look, I really can’t-”

“You can’t do this one thing for me?” you cut him off, the question sounding like an ultimatum.

“No,” he shakes his head, seemingly unaffected by the conversation.

“Because…?” you demand a valid reason.

“Because I just can’t,” he shrugs, casual and cool.

The world stills for a moment. You calculate your next move. Blood rushes in your ears, you see red. Your eyes fall on the clock– it’s 4 minutes after your shift. That’s it.

You take your coat draped over the chair, stand up from the chair and dash towards the front door. You can’t stand being around this man any longer– all he does is bring misery into your otherwise, already boring life.

Speedwalking out of the place, you yell out a harsh “Go fuck yourself!” over your shoulder, leaving Sunwoo to close the cinema by himself. You don’t even change out of your uniform before you go– your head is too clouded with anger to remember to do so. Cursing out your coworker isn’t the best thing you could do in this situation, more so when he’s the owner’s son, but suddenly, you don’t really care about losing your job at the cinema anymore.

Maybe you should quit yourself, actually.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – HOW TO LOSE A GUY IN 10 DAYS (2003)

In your books, there aren’t many things worse than working three days in a row. You can only think of so many even when you try hard enough: like going to school in your pajamas, getting sick on the day of an important event, ripping your pants on the metro, standing outside of the cinema in a popcorn costume for 4 hours…

Yeah. Not too many.

So naturally, on the third day of your work week, putting one sweetened coffee into your stomach after another, barely keeping your head up from the lack of sleep you’re getting in between classes, work, and writing your essays until 3 in the morning, you beg god for a calm shift. It’s Wednesday, the first week of Mr Kim’s ‘Rewind Thursdays’ event, and it just so happened that you were set to work the first half of the week while Sunwoo got the other half.

The only thing keeping you going is the fact that you and Sunwoo will now basically not see each other’s face for the next four weeks– with the exception of Fridays and Saturdays, the premiere days. You’re getting a lot of shifts this month, but hey… Christmas is coming. At least you’ll have plenty of money to buy gifts for everyone this year. (Or not. You’re very underpaid.)

Entertaining yourself by watching the world outside of your window and mentally betting on the race of raindrops falling down the glass surface– because your phone battery almost ran out during class this morning and you forgot to bring your charger with you– you hope you don’t fall asleep right in this moment. Your boss is somewhere inside and if he oh just happens to check up on you (which he never normally does, but you can never be too sure), you’re certain you’d lose your job after taking a nap in the ticket booth. Some things just can’t be accepted.

Cat fights with his son? Perfectly acceptable. Sleeping on the clock? Not so much…

Eyes drooping when the third raindrop race doesn’t go the way you bet on in your head, you figure you can just rest for a second or two… Eyelids shielding your irises from the orange hues of the lights inside, your brain already turning off and preparing a happy dream for you, you think that taking a nap is not such a bad idea right now…

Wrong.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” the noise of a thunder– actually, no, that was just someone’s voice– wakes you up and makes you jump in your chair, your knee hitting the bottom of the table making you hiss in sharp pain.

“Fuck, man–”

“Didn’t know taking a nap was in the job description,” Sunwoo grins at you through the glass window of the booth. His eyes twinkle in amusement as you drag your hand through your hair, trying to smoothe it down after tousling it in your weird sleeping position.

“I wasn’t sleeping,” you mutter, not even meeting his eye.

“Oh?”

“Yeah… just had… my eyes closed…” you hum, scratching the back of your neck. Clearing your throat, you look back up at him with an disinterested look on your face. “Anyways, what do you want? You’re off today.”

Scanning his figure, fully taking in his appearance– the fabric of his dark gray hoodie a little stained with raindrops (you bet he ran from his car into the building without an umbrella. He seems like the type to be embarrassed about umbrellas.), the fabric of the garment enveloping his head and shading his face a little from the ugly yellow lights. His face is a little flushed– you presume it’s from the running– and his hair is falling into his face. You can barely see his eyes behind the curtain of chocolate locks– he really needs a trim.

“Damn, didn’t know you hated me so much that you can’t stand seeing me on my off days,” he jokes, leaning on the counter as if to stick his face as close as he can into yours. Thank god for the glass shielding you two– you think you’d give him a fist to the nose if you ever felt his breathing on your skin.

“I do,” you agree, impatiently drumming your fingers on the top of the table, “so tell me what you want so you can disappear again,” you say.

“I just went to check up on whether you were sleeping or not so I can tell my dad to fire you–”

“Kim Sunwoo–”

He puts his arms up defensively, eyebrows raising at your threatening tone. “Okay, not really. I don’t actually care that much. Besides, you promised to quit yourself anyway, so,” he explains, shrugging to himself, “believe it or not, I’m here to buy tickets for a movie.”

You shoot him a stare, the look in your eyes dead, stone cold as you ponder on his words. It’s cold outside, it’s raining, and Kim Sunwoo just happens to decide to buy tickets for a movie today. In a cinema that he works at. In a cinema that he works at tomorrow.

“You work tomorrow…?” you mirror your inner monologue, kind of confused at the turn of events.

“You know my schedule? I’m flattered–”

The irritation is slowly creeping into your bones again. Actually, it has been since he arrived, but the more he talks, the more agitating the whole encounter feels. Maybe you should tape his mouth shut the next time you see him– you bet the day would be so much better if you don’t have to listen to him talk.

“Why don’t you just buy the tickets tomorrow when you work? Didn’t have to walk here in the rain,” you explain, sighing to prove just how annoyed you are with his presence.

“Because I kinda need them today,” he says, clarifying to you with the tone you use when you explain mundane things to a child.

You don’t know what he did in his past life to get the ability to annoy you each and every time you meet him, but you’d like some of it to get back at him in your next life. Why you’re even thinking of past lives and the possibility of meeting Kim Sunwoo in your next one, you’re not really certain, but if it helps you to not smash the glass separating you two, you guess you can get behind the thought process.

“Okay,” you nod, painfully calm for the amount of screaming you’ve been doing internally, “what movie?” you ask, turning your body to the computer on your right and breaking eye contact with him. If he’s a customer, you’re going to treat him like one– no small talk and no arguments. You won’t ruin your day even more over a man that doesn’t know what chapstick is. (You don’t stare at his lips, just for the record. It’s just painfully obvious when he talks. Sometimes you want to reach over and pluck away the dead skin with your fingers– you won’t, though. That would be weird.)

Sunwoo straightens his back as he fishes for his wallet in the front pocket of his jeans. “National Treasure,” he smiles, making you break into cold sweat, “two tickets, please.”

Like a scene in a horror movie, your head turns without moving the rest of your body, eyes twitching when you see him standing at the other side of the booth, calm and collected. Suddenly, the scene makes sense– he bought the tickets to see your favorite movie on the day of your shift. Of course. He just has to rub it in your face.

Not only are you working that day. You will also most likely serve popcorn to him as he goes inside with whoever he is buying the second ticket for. And you will try not to trip him on his way inside the screening room.

It was a smart move for him to not go inside the ticket booth with you, even though he has all the right to. You bet he knows you’d claw his eyes out if you had the chance.

“You have to be kidding me.”

“What? I can’t buy tickets for a movie?” he asks, innocence dripping off his tongue.

Breathing deeply– while trying to contain the demon that’s begging to crawl out of your insides and tear him into 25 different pieces– you smile ironically at the male, gulping before you speak. “That would be 12 dollars, please,” you say, your customer service voice turning kind of eerie.

Not even letting the male choose his seats– he lost the privilege when he decided to come and buy the tickets for your favorite movie– you print out two tickets with the worst possible view (the ones in the first row, far right. If Sunwoo loses his neck because he has to look up at the screen for the entirety of the movie, well, who are you to hate that) and offer them to your coworker.

Like a mind game, the male slips them into his pocket without even looking at them, not breaking eye contact with you sitting behind the booth.

“Have a nice day,” he says as he takes two steps back before fully turning and escaping through the front door, figure dashing towards the old Prius parked in front of the building.

Bawling your hands into fists, you try the breathing exercises you found the other week. Calm your body and your mind, the title said. You knew you’d need those when you saved the post into one of your boards on Pinterest.

Still, you can’t help yourself. You simply cannot. You let it out– it’s not healthy to keep negativity inside.

He can’t hear you, but you still mutter a spiteful “I hope you choke,” under your breath as you settle back into the uncomfortable surface of the chair.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – YOU’VE GOT MAIL (1998)

Remember the time you said you didn’t really mind having more shifts in November, because it meant a bigger paycheck? Yeah… that was true. For a few days.

Until you got a phone call one day from none other than Kim Sunwoo– whose number you didn’t even want to save into your contacts, but after his insisting that it’s for work purposes, did so under the name ‘dumpster raccoon’– telling you that you have to get to work immediately, that his dad said so, and that it’s an emergency.

Do you believe him? No. Absolutely not.

His tone of voice was too calm to be in an emergency. If his dad wanted you to come to work today, he could’ve called you himself instead of making his son do it. And also, you really don’t know what’s so important to take care of on a Wednesday, since it’s the slow day of the week, but still– you angrily took off the facemask from your face before the timer even went off, shut your laptop with a half-watched episode of The office in your Netflix window, changed out of your comfy clothes and marched towards the cinema.

Because you never know. He might be saying the truth, after all. And if that was the case, you didn’t want to be caught disobeying your boss.

You get to the old movie theater on the corner of the town center at 4 in the afternoon. The sky is already getting dark and you feel the coldness of November seeping into your bones, and so you waste no time in getting inside and chasing the heat of the vintage-looking interior. Your boots make a thudding sound as you walk across the hall, seeing Sunwoo sitting in the ticket booth in his usual habitat: with his phone in his hands and his feet up on the table, chewing on his favorite strawberry mints. Now this sight screams emergency if you’ve ever seen one.

“What was so important for you to call me to work and then chill in the ticket booth all afternoon?” you ask, spite slipping off your tongue with every word you speak.

Sunwoo looks up at you from under his eyelashes, hair still slightly shielding his eyes. He doesn’t even have his uniform on– there’s a gray hoodie enveloping his torso (you swear he lives in this garment. You wonder if he even washes it sometimes) and black jeans hanging off his hips– and the more you stare at him, the more you feel like punching him in the face.

“Oh,” he hums, stretching out his limbs from the hours of sitting on the chair unmoving, “dad said to tell you to clean the screening room. Since it’s Thursday tomorrow, and all.”

The look on his face is innocent. He looks like he just told you the most casual piece of information– and truth be told, he kind of did. The whole thing is just not making any sense right now.

“I should clean the screening room today? You’re on the clock, though, why don’t you do it?” you ask, frustration clearly written all over your face. You were looking forward to having a self-care day today, so you can only imagine how tired of his endeavors you are right in this moment.

“Yeah, but I am on ticket booth duty, so I can’t,” he shrugs, frowning a little to prove his nonexistent point.

“It’s Wednesday. It’s not busy. You know you can do both.”

“Look, it’s not me, it’s my dad–”

“Is it? Is it, Sunwoo?” you huff, arms flying into the air. “Or are you just using me to do the work you don’t feel like doing? Because it really does seem like that right now,” you bite, running your hand through your hair in exasperation.

“Do you want me to call him?” Sunwoo asks, tone of voice suddenly threatening.

A heartbeat passes. You continue to have a staring contest with him. The fury inside of you rages like a storm. Still, you nod to the feeling of authority coming from your actual boss, and so you wordlessly turn on your heel and march towards the screening room, ready to clean the place in the least amount of time so you can go home and back to your selfcare endeavors. (You’re adding printing out Sunwoo’s face and throwing darts at it to the list of activities. You think you really need that right now.)

The screening room is dark when you come inside, and as you reach towards the lightswitch, you almost fear something jumping at you. See, the traumatic response from being locked up in the toilet from your coworker is still very present in your bones. When you stop working here, you’re going to ask for financial compensation for all the damage this boy did on your mental health.

You walk down the aisle of seats and try to inspect the damage. No movies air on Wednesday and there was only one kids movie going on Tuesday, so you can either expect it to be almost clean, or full of snacks that fell off the hands of grabby children during the cartoon. The more you inspect the place, though, the more it seems like… somebody already cleaned it before?

The floor is clean. The laminated surface under the seats has no smudge of dirt on it, like someone already mopped the place. And when you think back, the bins were empty as well.

The screening room was definitely cleaned before.

Which means that Sunwoo brought you here for absolutely nothing.

Suddenly, the lights go out. The whole room falls into darkness, and the anger inside of your veins very quickly mixes with panic as you try to climb up the stairs on the side of the screening room and escape. Your throat gets dry as you yell for your coworker, not really caring if your next outburst is going to get you fired or not.

“Kim Fucking Sunwoo, why the fuck did you call me to clean an already cleaned screening room?!” you yell, not really knowing if he hears you or not. Doesn’t matter– it feels cathartic to do so anyway.

Your feet stumble on the awkwardly-long stairs, your figure almost falling to the ground. Managing to hold yourself up and steady your body before your head hits the sharp corner of one of the stairs and makes you die, you continue on with your small tangent. “You really think this is funny? You’re having fun pranking me all the time? I hate your guts, Kim Sunwoo, and I hope you burn in hell!”

A bright light suddenly illuminates the screening room, coming from somewhere behind you. When you look over your shoulder, the screen is white for a few moments before the opening credits of a Jerry Buckheimer film flash on the big surface, halting you in your movements. The sound is a little too loud in the speakers, but it gets adjusted the moment you almost lose your hearing. The moment you see Nicolas Cage appear, it’s clear as day.

There’s a movie playing. And the movie playing is National treasure.

You think you’re hallucinating. This is surely a fata morgana.

Standing in the middle of the screening room, your mouth hangs agape and your eyes go wide as you watch the first few scenes of the movie. Ben Gates already learns about the hidden treasure passed down through American history when you feel a slight nudge to your shoulder, making you turn your head to see a tall figure staring you down with a bucket of popcorn in their hands.

You are confused. So utterly confused. The movie was on last week. You’d know– you worked the snack booth that day. The screening room is empty and it’s Wednesday– what’s going on?

“Can you sit? Or are you just going to watch the movie standing in the aisle,” Sunwoo grunts, balancing the big bucket of popcorn and two drinks in his large hands, the sight comical and almost making you want to watch him suffer some more.

Caught off guard, though, you let him back you into the aisle of seats, your figure slouching into one of the red cushions like a rag doll. Sunwoo takes place next to you, placing the big bucket of popcorn into your lap, before he settles into a seat as well and focuses his eyes and attention on the movie.

“What… what is this?” you ask, frozen in the seat.

“Hm?” Sunwoo frowns, looking at you. “National treasure,” he hums, “I thought you’d know, since you threw a scene about it that one time.”

“I- I know that, I just…” you trail off, still surprised at the turn of events, “what’s going on right now…?”

“We’re watching National treasure,” he notes, talking to you as if you were slow.

“What…?”

A sigh escapes Sunwoo’s lips at your utter confusion, his hand coming up to the bucket of popcorn in your lap and throwing a handful of the snack into his mouth before speaking. “Look, Y/N. You said you wanted to watch your favorite movie in the cinema, so that’s what you’re doing. Enjoy my owner’s son privileges for once,” he shrugs, watching as your face morphs into an unreadable expression.

That explanation satisfies you for a bit. The shock in your insides, though? Still present.

There’s something about the whole gesture that makes your stomach feel uneasy. Sunwoo did something nice for you– out of the kindness of his own heart– and you really don’t know why he would even think of something like this. You two aren’t on the best terms either, after all. Maybe he finally went crazy.

Or maybe you did and this was all the result of your imagination. Either or.

Yeah, you must be the one that’s gone batshit insane. Surely. You’re certain of the fact when you reach for the popcorn and accidentally touch his hand, the two of you deciding to get some at the same time, and your stomach does a flip and your brain makes a sign for you to quickly retract your hand– but the feeling of his slightly cold hand against your fingertips is now engraved into your memory and won’t leave and let you focus on the movie no matter how hard you try.

“You wouldn’t have to do this if you just let me switch schedules with you that time,” you note, “just saying.”

“I couldn’t,” he shrugs.

“Huh? But you bought two tickets..?”

“Yeah, but those were for my friends. I had to drive my mum down to grandmas that day, so I couldn’t go or take your shift that day,” he hums, not once breaking eye contact with the screen.

“If you would’ve just said so, I wouldn’t have made a scene about it–”

“Yeah… but I enjoy watching you make a scene,” he grins, shifting his attention towards you for a second with that lazy smirk playing with his lips. His hair is falling into his eyes and you have the urge to get it out of his face with a motion of your hand while also scolding him like a mother to finally get a haircut, just so you could see the twinkle in his mischievous orbs.

“You need to get serious help, then,” you grunt, pointing your gaze back towards the screen, unable to look at his face for any longer. He’s being annoying again. You’re annoyed.

“Probably,” he admits.

You two sit in silence for a while, the only sound accompanying you being the movie playing out on the big screen in front of you. You think this is the calmest you two have ever been around each other, and you’re starting to think that if Sunwoo just didn’t talk, you two could even get along.

Something touches the side of your thigh in the darkness of the room. Eyes darting to the source, you notice Sunwoo’s thigh pressing against yours, the cause of his obnoxious man-spreading, and something about the closeness of his body and the smell of his citrusy cologne makes you feel like your chest is heaving in on itself. You can’t stand him around you. You two can’t share this close of a space.

“Are you not leaving?” you ask.

“No,” he hums, “should I be?”

“Well, you’re on the clock…”

The man snickers, shaking his head in disbelief. “Y/N, you and I both know that the possibility of someone coming to buy a ticket on a Wednesday afternoon is close to zero. Me being there makes no difference in today’s sales.”

His hand knocks into yours again as you reach for more popcorn. You gulp, nodding. “Right…”

“And I wanted to see the movie to see if it’s really that good to make a scene about it,” he teases, another playful look sent your way from the corner of his eye.

You grunt, rolling your eyes. Oh how you hate his guts…

And even though you love the movie, you pray for it to end quickly. The more time you spend with Sunwoo forced into your zone of comfort, the more uncomfortable you feel– even the slightest movement of his body affects you and makes your brain turn on overdrive. It’s strange and it’s weird, and you don’t understand how hatred for a person could manifest in such reactions.

It’s better that you didn’t notice you two sitting in the love seat. God knows you wouldn’t handle that well. You’d rather die than to hold on to that knowledge.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – CLUELESS (1995)

They say that you only start realizing just how stupid people can be when you work in customer service. As one of the only three employees of the small, vintage cinema on the corner of the town’s square, you can only agree with the sentiment– you have a lot of stories to tell about the wonders of the human brain.

Like that one time you got screamed at because the movie tickets were ‘too expensive’ – because naturally, you should be able to change the price of them when asked. Or that one time you got screamed at because the movie tickets were sold out– because naturally, you should add more seats to the screening room just for the two middle-aged women to sit on during the premiere of the newest Orlando Bloom movie. Or when somebody yelled at you for the toilets being full after the movie– naturally, you are supposed to throw people out in the middle of them peeing. Or build new stalls. Either or.

They say that you only start realizing just how stupid people can be when you work in customer service, but truly, you also realize just how rude they can also be for no reason at all.

Much like today. It’s Friday, which means it’s premiere night. The tickets to all movies this week are sold out already, so no one is on ticket booth duty, and much to your relief, Mr Kim took the snack stand himself. Your responsibility for the day is scanning the tickets and then making sure no one is getting inside during the movie without a ticket.

It’s not a hard job. Not at all– you would even say nothing about working in the cinema is hard, when you don’t have an annoying coworker trying to make your whole life a living hell– but you see, customers love to make your job harder just by being unreasonably rude about things that are clearly out of your control.

“Sir, I really can’t let you in, I’m sorry,” you say, tone of voice polite despite screaming on the inside. In front of you is standing a tall man, maybe a few years older than you, the expression on his face full of anger and vexation. They say a customer is always right. You agree only when the customer looks like they could wait for you after work and beat you up in the bushes. Sadly, that still doesn’t mean you can let the man inside without a valid ticket.

“What do you mean? Little one, I’m telling you I bought the ticket here, so if you don’t let me in–”

“All tickets purchased for the screening should be able to scan through this, sir, and if it doesn’t work, I am not allowed to let you inside of the cinema,” you try to explain, getting kind of desperate. The line behind him was forming and the movie was supposed to play in a few minutes, so if you wanted to scan all the tickets in time, you had to be quick.

He wouldn’t budge, though. His eyebrows are furrowed and the guy behind him seems to be getting angry as well, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up alert, like a cat when it senses danger. You try your hardest to keep your tone firm, hands clasped politely behind your back. “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, sir, or maybe check in with the owner about the issue? I don’t have the competence to–”

“Listen, I won’t be talking to anyone, because you will let me in, okay?”

“Sir, I can’t-”

Your sentence is cut off by the man again, his fury making you take a step backwards in fear. “And if you don’t, you will see the consequences.”

Gulping, you try to think of a way to get out of this situation. Mr Kim is too far away for you to call, and he is also busy– the line is long and Sunwoo isn’t working today. It’s just the two of you today, so your options are getting slimmer. You can’t let that man in without a working ticket– it seems like the one he’s showing you is either a fake one, or bought in another cinema– but it seems like if you don’t, he’ll have you dead before the next morning.

“So?”

Opening your mouth to answer (although your brain is still empty and you don’t even know what more to say), a low voice coming from behind you startles you in the middle of your crisis. “Is there a problem here?”

Turning your head to the source of the voice, you’ve never been more relieved to see Kim Sunwoo in your close proximity. You watch as he puts a rolled-up poster to the ground behind you before he takes another step closer towards your figure, his expression stone cold and glaring at the man in front of you.

“Your coworker here won’t let me in to watch the movie,” he complains, hand waving around in a threatening way.

Just having Sunwoo around makes you more confident. Clearing your throat, your eyes dart to your coworker, seeing his face morph into irritation. “It won’t scan his ticket, so…”

“If it won’t scan your ticket, it means it’s invalid and we’re not allowed to let you in,” Sunwoo says, tone of voice way less polite than the one you were using before.

“That’s ridiculous-”

“You are ridiculous,” Sunwoo grunts, annoyance clearly written all over his face. “You were asked to leave, so maybe you should.”

Truth be told, you’ve been in a couple of arguments with Sunwoo before. In none of them has he ever looked and sounded like this, though. You and Sunwoo argue with spite– sparks flying waiting to start a fire, curses and harsh words thrown around carelessly in moments of heated hatred. His tone is stern, but never threatening. Never mean. Not in the way he’s being right now.

It makes you stare at him wordlessly. He seems to be taking the lead in the situation, reacting territorially to the man in front of him. You can’t say you don’t feel safer with him around– you would be lying.

“Maybe you could just let me in and get this over with–”

“And maybe you could fuck off,” Sunwoo says back, something in his tone making your stomach feel all light. He looks serious, standing his ground, and the man finally seems to get the memo that he’s not watching the premiere tonight, because he backs off and grits his teeth at the male.

“Your boss will hear about this,” he threatens, making Sunwoo chuckle.

“I’m sure he will.”

Sympathetic looks are thrown your way from the women in the line behind that can finally come up to you so you scan their tickets. You smile at each one and try to seem unaffected by the exchange, but the memory of it still lingers in your brain and doesn’t make you rest easy as you greet the rest of the customers.

You didn’t even realize Sunwoo was still standing next to you, watching you work. He seems to recognise your shaken-up composure, tone of voice sympathetic and quiet as he asks: “You okay?”

“What?” you ask, surprised by the question, “oh. Yeah, I’m fine. He was just… being a bitch, the usual.”

“Yeah,” he snickers, “why didn’t you just scream at him like you do to me? I bet that would scare him away,” he notes, making you roll your eyes at the comment.

“Because he looked like he could beat me up, Sunwoo.”

“And I don’t?” he gasps, suddenly offended.

You scan the boy up and down, pretending to think it over for a few before you shake your head. “No,” you shrug, “I could beat you up.”

“Excuse you?” he gasps, crossing his arms at his chest in a defensive stance, the shock on his face mixing in with amusement.

“Don’t believe me? Wanna try?” you test, the conversation suddenly flowing freely, without you even noticing. You don’t pay it much thought, but you guess getting along with Sunwoo is easier when he’s on your side. Most of the time, he’s not, though– and maybe that’s the problem.

“Okay,” he nods, “meet me in the back when you’re off. No weapons allowed, we’ll do it the street style. This is a battle of fists,” he points a finger at you, the sentence making you sigh dreamily and point your eyes towards the ceiling.

“You can’t even imagine how long I’ve been waiting for this moment.”

Sunwoo smiles at that– that dumb, boyish smile you usually so despise– and shakes his head at your antics. The conversation dies down a bit after the exchange– with you scanning the tickets and trying your hardest to make it through the line before the movie starts, when your coworker, dressed in none other than his signature gray hoodie and black jeans, nudges you with his elbow. “Want me to stay for a bit, or are you good now?”

“I can take care of myself, Sunwoo,” you sigh, “you can go about your day.”

“Well, it didn’t seem like it a few minutes ago–”

“I can take care of myself when I’m not confronted with a tall muscled man that is threatening me, Sunwoo,” you repeat, looking at the rest of the line, “so with him gone now, you can go about your day. What are you even doing here, by the way? I thought you were off today.”

“I am,” he nods, rocking a little in his place, shifting weight from his heels towards his toes, “I was just… here to drop off something for you,” he says, clearing his throat and pointing towards the poster he was holding when he first approached you, the shiny tube now resting against the nearest wall.

You shoot the boy a curious look, eyebrows furrowed in question. You don’t get to ask for clarification about the character of the poster, because he abruptly cuts off your train of thought, speaking fast as if to avoid making any more conversation with you. “I’ll see you in the back after you’re done for that fist fight, then. Bye!”

And before you get a chance to say anything back, Sunwoo swiftly turns on his heel and awkwardly marches towards the front door. You don’t have much time to inspect the thing he dropped off for you, but after you’re done with scanning the tickets and have time to breathe when the movie starts, you allow yourself to peek inside–

only to see a National treasure poster staring back at you, surface glossy and glimmering, as if you just opened a chest full of gold.

As you take the poster to the staff room with you (while also wearing a huge, embarrassing grin on your face for someone staring at the face of Nicolas Cage), making sure it’s safe and sound until you can bring it home with you, you wonder why you haven’t been civil with Kim Sunwoo before.

It’s good to have a taste of his owner’s son privileges sometimes.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – ME BEFORE YOU (2016)

The day is Friday, the 1st of December. Mr Kim’s ‘Rewind Thursdays' event is over and while Fridays are always the premiere days, meaning you usually have to work the evenings either in the snack booth or in the ticket booth, your boss told you you can have the night off under one condition– you come in the morning (since you told him your classes are done for the semester, he’s been keen on making you work at random times of the day) and help Sunwoo with Christmas decorations in the cinema.

And, well, who are you to say no to a free evening? Maybe you can finally have that self-care time you’ve been needing before your exam season starts.

“Can you get the ladder from the back?” Sunwoo asks, tone of voice not at all interested. You don’t know what the reasoning behind his mood is, but you figure it’s either the fact that he had to get up before 12, or the fact that he doesn’t really seem like the type to like decorating.

“Why don’t you get it?” you huff, wiping your forehead off the sweat that’s cumulated on it over the time you spent bringing out all the boxes full of decorations out of the staff room. “I brought everything in, maybe you can do some work for once.”

One would think your dynamics with Kim Sunwoo would shift after he’s been nice to you on multiple occasions. And sure, you don’t really fight with him as often and he hasn’t pulled a prank on you in a while, but some days, his whole presence is still just as annoying to you as it’s been for the past couple of months. There’s not really much you can do about it– especially not when he’s bossing you around and not doing any actual work himself.

“I built the christmas tree,” he grunts, opening one of the boxes full of ornaments, squinting at the contains with disgust on his face. “And I put up all the other useless stuff before you got here too,” he says, pointing a glare at you.

Looking around the theater, you notice various types of decorations all over the place. There’s some mistletoe hanging off the ceiling (which has you wondering how he even got it there in the first place) and garlands framing all the doorways– the greenery making the whole place decorated in a very vintage tone. It’s fitting to the theme of the cinema, though, and you can tell that Sunwoo really can’t be arsed to do any better, so you don’t mention it out loud in favor of avoiding another one of your petty cat fights.

Admitting your defeat, you storm back into the staff room and carry out the tall ladder, struggling to fit through the doorways and to cross the corners, praying to all higher forces that you don’t accidentally scratch off pieces of the wall on your way to Sunwoo.

You put down the metal construction with a loud thud, making the boy look up at you from beneath his bangs, the silent curse evident in his eyes. You don’t know what’s up with him, but again, you won’t ask. You try to tell yourself that you don’t really care either, but with every glance towards his direction, the question keeps bugging you and dancing around your brain.

You force yourself not to care.

Watching as he tries to untangle the Christmas lights, struggle evident in the frustration written all over his face, you sigh and walk over to him, taking the bundle of wire out of his hands and threading your skilled fingers through the lengthy cable. You’re an expert in untangling– you don’t own bluetooth headphones, so you do this pretty much every day before listening to some music. Your headphones love to tangle in your pocket no matter how neatly you try to keep them in your pants– it’s a mystery. Almost like the Bermuda triangle.

“I can do it myself,” Sunwoo huffs, eyebrows furrowing when he watches you work your magic.

“You seemed like it too,” you ironically note, letting the spiteful side of you win, enjoying yourself when you’re rewarded by the snarky roll of Sunwoo’s eyes– everything is back to normal. You two aren’t friends, you don’t like to be in each other’s presence, and no number of shiny stolen posters and private sessions in the screening room will ever change that.

“Hold this,” you say, thrusting the end of the cord into his hand, walking a few meters away from him as you detangle the lights, watching as he impatiently stomps the floor with his heel, reminding you of Snowball from The secret life of pets movie.

When you’re done and the Christmas lights are now a straight line of wire, you slowly walk over to the tall tree in the middle of the room, wrapping the lights around the fake forest-green needles. You’re glad that the lights are long enough to cover the whole thing and you don’t have to untangle another ones, and when you’re done, you watch your coworker plug them in, examining the small, colorful light bulbs.

“Okay, now the ornaments,” you say, more to yourself than to anybody in the room, as you waltz over to the boxes and take out the decorations varying in shapes and sizes. You don’t really know what color scheme Mr Kim wants you to go for– and you doubt Sunwoo is aware either, so you just take out the ornaments you find the most pretty and hang them all over the tree, making sure each branch is covered.

Sunwoo stands around for a while, unmoving as he watches you, before he sighs to himself and finally decides to help. You leave him be, thinking that it’s for the best if you two don’t speak today when he’s in such a bad mood, but you break that promise almost immediately when you stare back at the tree after retrieving some more ornaments from the box to your right and notice the almost painful clash of colors.

You should’ve known you can’t trust a man with decorating. The beautiful contrast of the baby pink and brown ornaments you put on the tree is now ruined by the green ones you intentionally left on the bottom of the box. The colors don’t go together at all and you want to claw your eyes out every second you have to stare at it.

“Sunwoo, those colors don’t go together at all,” you say, point and blank– no sugarcoating, no offensive words, just straight facts.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, that tree looks terrifying, and it’s all because you ruined it,” you say.

Okay, maybe you are overreacting just the slightest. But isn’t there fun in making your coworker completely out of his mind? Is this your roles being reversed for the first time? Are you finally winning this little game?

Nevertheless, you are enjoying the outburst that follows from Sunwoo. Mainly because he looks like a child throwing a tantrum as he huffs and takes off the green ornaments he put on to the tree and throws the handful back into the cardboard box, not really caring if they break or not. You’ll be replaying this scene in your head forever before you go to sleep, for the absolute frustration and annoyance on his face is one of your biggest trophies. Right now, though, you’re battling the urge to laugh.

“Fine, do it yourself, then,” Sunwoo says as he walks away from the tree, choosing to sit on the floor cross-legged, taking out his phone and scrolling through social media.

Again, you don’t know what’s gotten into him today, but you force yourself not to care. You have a job to finish here so you can go home and enjoy your day, and that’s why exactly you just shrug and finish putting on the pretty ornaments, admiring your work every once in a while when you take a break and stare on the tall tree, kind of breathless from the beauty.

You’re not really big on Christmas, but you must admit that this is fun.

The sound of Sunwoo swiping through Instagram reels is the only thing accompanying your actions, and as you look over your shoulder and see his almost sad face, you bite your lip just to not ask him what’s the matter. You’re not supposed to care. And you don’t.

“Can’t you put some festive music on?” you ask instead, your lips just begging to have a conversation with the male, despite your best judgment.

“No,” Sunwoo barks back, not even taking his eyes off the phone as the sound of the reel changes into another one, a swipe of his thumb across the screen showing him another video.

Nodding to yourself, you carefully try to pick out your next words. Not really sure how to address the male, you choose to approach him with a hint of humor you’re not sure he’ll appreciate. “What’s up with you? You’re bitchier than usual,” you say, scanning the male with cautious eyes.

Sunwoo stops for a while– a millisecond of him halting his scrolling, an action you wouldn’t notice if you weren’t trying to see any shift in his composure– before he speaks up again. “Nothing,” he shrugs.

“Okay,” you say, a tone of voice full of doubt.

When you conclude that you’re not getting more answers out of him, you nod to yourself and dart back towards the Christmas tree, making sure you make more eye contact with the glossy ornaments than with your coworker sitting behind you on the ground. Not much time passes by before he speaks up again, though, tone of voice quiet and hesitant.

“I’m just not in the mood today,” he sighs, “I have a final next week and it’s stressing me out, I haven’t slept well in quite a few days, my dad’s making me work more than usual and on top of that, I absolutely hate winter.”

“You hate winter?” you choose to focus on the least serious topic of the little rant, not really knowing when your boundaries lay in discussing the more serious ones.

“Yeah,” Sunwoo chuckles, “it’s like a shittier fall. It’s cold and dark all the time. It would be different if it snowed, though. I love it when it snows.”

Snickering at his sudden confession, you shake your head. “You’re like a little kid.”

“I remember you calling me a child once,” Sunwoo hums in agreement.

“That was different,” you say, hoping to cheer the male up at least a bit with your usual quarrel.

“I figured by the way you threw the toilet brush to my chest,” Sunwoo laughs, the memory of torturing you fond in his brain. The poster he gave you almost made you forget about the fact that he managed to make your life a living hell for quite some time– maybe you should consider this a wake-up call.

The conversation quiets down for a bit, even the sound of Sunwoo’s Instagram reels discontinued as you two marvel in the now much more comfortable silence. Testing the waters, you clear your throat before speaking up again. “Don’t worry about that exam, by the way. I’m sure you’ll do well.”

“How would you know?”

“You’re clever. You need to be clever to come up with all various ways to make my life more miserable,” you say, smiling when you hear him let out a breath of air through his nose, signaling a silent laugh.

“Any advice on the sleepless nights?” he asks, tone of voice light and humorous.

“Less things in your head,” you hum, putting the last ornament onto one of the branches, satisfied with your work. “Or melatonin.”

“Noted,” he nods, sharing a smile with you.

Walking over to the boxes stored a few feet away from the male, you open up the slim one thrown on the side, holding up the star. Your eyes meet his, a carefree twinkle in your orbs when you try to cheer up the boy’s inner child by doing a child's favorite activity. “Do you want to put the star on?”

He fails you, though. “No.”

“Why not?”

“You decorated it all yourself, so you can do the star,” he shrugs, not really into your idea.

“Oh come on–”

“I don’t feel like standing up,” Sunwoo grunts, the joy on your insides finally dying down when you get a taste of his usual composure– the one that really can’t be arsed with anything.

Sighing to yourself, you waltz over to the tall ladder, and despite your biggest worries, you continue climbing up the metal construction even when it wobbles and makes you fear you’re gonna fall. The whole thing is kind of unsteady and makes your heart thump in your throat, but you choose to get it over with and finally climb to the very top, outstretching your arm and putting the star on top of the tree, the decoration process now done and freeing you off your today’s work responsibilities.

Something akin to satisfaction beams in your insides as you climb down the ladder, and now, you’ll write this off to you being a little too excited with the vision of a face mask and popcorn at home– but your leg slips on one of the steps and despite the ladder being now magically steady, your body comes crashing down to the floor.

A yelp fights out of your throat, hands go flying in a desperate need to steady yourself or hold on to something that would make you not fall hard against the marble floor, when a miracle straight down from heaven comes to rescue in a form of flesh holding you up and shielding you from the fall, a grunt landing in your ears when your body settles into soft fabric of dark gray.

Head snapping to the source of the arms around your waist, surprised at the person’s strength used to balance you two on your feet as you fell (well, your knees buckled, but still, they haven’t yet hit the ground), you notice a pair of chocolate orbs staring down at you through a curtain of dark hair, wide eyes scanning your face and breathing out a puff of air.

“Look where you’re stepping next time, for fuck’s sake,” Sunwoo huffs, watching as your brain tries to process the near-death experience.

Registering his arms firmly placed around your waist (now realizing the soft fabric was the hoodie he’s been living in for the past few months), the citrusy scent of his cologne makes your head spin, eyes scanning his face in quick motions, as if not aware of who was your savior. You wonder how he even got to you on time (not really noticing him walking over to the ladder as soon as he saw it wobbling under you, holding it down to keep you from toppling over), and when your eyes curiously gaze at his chapped, yet plush lips, the warmth in your stomach makes you finally snap out of it.

Untangling yourself out of his limbs, much like you did with the Christmas lights a few minutes ago, you clear your throat and try to get your breathing back to normal. Your knees are a little weak, but you write that off to the shock of falling.

“This wouldn’t have happened if you just agreed to put the star on,” you complain, straightening your clothes as you walk over to the empty boxes nearby, stacking them into one another and avoiding all possible eye contact with the male.

It’s working– at least that’s what you keep telling yourself– up until you hear him chuckle and see a pair of hands taking the tower of boxes out of your hold, a charming grin sent your way as he walks away from you to the staff room. “If you say so.”

Okay, so it’s not working.

You’re fucked.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – THE PROPOSAL (2009)

“So… I was thinking,” Sunwoo starts one day, a bundle of rolled-up posters stacked up in his arms like a pyramid, puffs of cold air making clouds appear in front of his face as he speaks, “would you want to go see a movie with me?” he asks, tone of voice casual, as if he was asking you about the weather.

The poster you’re currently putting up into one of the glass holders outside of the cinema almost slips out of your frozen fingers out of shock, your heart skipping a beat. “Huh?” you hum, taking out a container full of pins out of your coat pocket and securing the poster to its designated place. “You want to bring money to your father’s competitor?” you joke.

“What? No,” he quickly replies, furrowing his brows as he shakes his head. “I meant, like, here,” he says, nodding towards the building to prove his point, taking a step aside when you close the glass door of the poster holder and move towards the next one, 3 more movie banners left to put up outside of the cinema.

The wires in your brain work on full force, trying to clear out any confusion caused by his sudden invitation. Sure, you two have gotten closer ever since you talked with him at the Christmas tree a week ago, but still, you didn’t know it was enough to hang out outside of work hours.

Instead of focusing the conversation on this unpredictable development, you turn towards clearing out the logistics instead. “How would we even do that? We either work at the same time or you work when I don’t and the other way around,” you say, taking the next poster from him and putting it up.

All of the movies airing the next two weeks are Christmas movies. Some of them are old, some of them are premieres, but still– you can’t really imagine watching a festive movie with your coworker. Up until last week, you thought of him as the next reincarnation of Grinch.

“I could get my sister to switch with me on a day you don’t work,” he hums, sheepish about his preposition. There’s something bashful in his tone, something shy in his gaze as he watches you put up the movie poster, but you try your hardest to ignore it for the sake of your sanity. You’re already having a hard time dealing with the fact that he appeared in your dreams twice since he caught you in his arms last week. You don’t need to add the switch in dynamic to the mix.

“Isn’t she underage?” you ask, snickering.

“Yeah, and?” he shrugs. “It’s a family business, Y/N. Everyone has to be included, underage or not.”

A laugh erupts out of your throat at the comment, shaking your head at the boy in disbelief.

“What would you even wanna see? Those are all Christmas movies,” you say, moving along and focusing your attention to the glossy material in your fingers.

“I don’t see how that’s a problem,” he says.

“Oh, it is,” you mutter, “I don’t like Christmas movies.”

Sunwoo grunts. “Well, I don’t really care. I saw your favorite movie with you, so you can return the favor and see my favorite movie with me,” he speaks up, making you roll your eyes at his words.

“There’s no way any of those movies is your favorite,” you note, doubtful tone haunting the boy.

“You wouldn’t know,” he laughs, making your heart do cartwheels at the sound, his teasing making you feel warmth despite the cold breeze trying to make your bones freeze into blocks of ice.

“I won’t go unless I believe you,” you say, grinning as you close the glass box and take the last poster out of Sunwoo’s hands, watching as the boy puts his frozen fingers into the comfort of his warm jacket, shielding them from the cold.

“Not fair.”

“Very fair, actually.”

“Oh come on,” he sighs, shaking his head in disagreement, “I thought we could watch a Christmas movie as a celebration to the end of semester,” he says, tone of voice almost pleading.

Securing the last banner into its designated place, you turn towards Sunwoo with an examining look on your face. He seems to be completely serious, eyes big pools of honey as he watches your face morph as you think. Something in your stomach makes it feel like it’s flying, making you clear your throat as you avert your gaze towards the line of Christmas movie posters on the brick wall. “Fine,” you gulp, “so what do you wanna watch?”

“The Polar Express,” he says, pointing towards the A3 scale you put up last, showing one of the movies that were older, but Mr Kim decided to air anyway– as if he was aware.

Fuck, you think. That’s my favorite.

“Absolutely not,” you cough, “I hate that movie.”

“Huh? How?” he sighs, face full of disappointment.

“Just because. It’s too long.”

“It’s not even two hours?”

Eyes quickly darting towards the poster, pupils shaking as you look towards the airing dates at the very bottom, you chew on your bottom lip, trying to find a way out. “You’re working on the 18th.”

“Okay, then we can go on the 19th,” Sunwoo says, determined to make you watch the movie with him. Why? You don’t even want to know at this point.

“I go home for Christmas break on the 19th,” you say, shrugging. “See? It wasn’t meant to be.”

“Y/N, come on–”

“Listen, can’t we just go back to hating each other instead of you annoying me about this stupid movie?” you sigh. In the whirlpool of events, you forgot just how insistent Sunwoo could be– who knows, maybe this was the real reason why you were so irritated with him in the first place.

Slowly walking back towards your workplace, hearing Sunwoo’s sneakers hit the ground behind you as he trails after you like a lost puppy, a sense of momentarily victory flows through your veins when you recognise that you found your way out. There was no way Mr Kim would let his underage daughter work instead of Sunwoo, and you truly were leaving home the evening of 19th. You already had a train ticket– you’re not gonna change your plans because of a man you despised just a few days ago.

“I never really hated you, by the way. Besides, you’re only saying that because you hate the movie,” Sunwoo grunts, chiming in front of you– making you think he’s being petty and doesn’t want to talk to you anymore, surprising you when he opens the door for you and offers you a solemn gaze, waiting for you to walk through the entryway and go back to work. (For you, it’s sitting in the ticket booth in silence. For Sunwoo, it’s pretending to work in the back, since his dad is absent today again)

Reciprocating his gaze, noticing the disappointment behind your coworker’s eyes, you feel something in your stomach drop, the weight of it so heavy you quickly avert your look.

“Maybe,” you shrug.

And maybe, the true reason is something completely else.

The words resonate through your brain– ‘I never really hated you, by the way’. Funny. Then what were all those months of torture all about?

You decide you no longer want answers.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – WHEN HARRY MET SALLY (1989)

You can’t believe you’re doing something nice for Kim Sunwoo.

Shoes hitting the gravel, your scarf pulled up so it covers your nose from the ice cold air, a hat hugging your head in warmth and shielding you from the aggressive weather, you start to contemplate your choices and your next moves. A sigh escapes your throat when your eyes land on the marquee above the entrance of the movie theater, teeth chewing on the inside of your cheek as you shift your weight from one foot to another.

Pulling out your phone to check the time, a shiny 7:24PM stares back at you, pushing you to walk up to the door of your workplace on your day off, 24 minutes after the beginning of The polar express.

You feel silly. You feel oh so stupid when you push the door open and your body is immediately engulfed in warmth, the yellow dim lights of the cinema making your eyes slowly adjust to the brightness contrasting the darkness of the outside world. You feel like you must have gone crazy, especially when your insides start to get all light and bubbly, hints of nerves tingling at the tips of your fingertips and the deepest corners of your stomach. There’s no turning back now, you tell yourself– and when your feet automatically take you to the ticket booth, gaze landing on the boy with his bangs in his eyes and an expression worthy of a kicked puppy on his face, you suddenly feel like your trip to the cinema was all worth it.

Clearing your throat, you notify your coworker of your presence, his big, doe eyes staring at you in surprise. Sunwoo’s mouth goes agape, shock overtaking his features when he takes in your appearance. (You bet he thinks you look laughable– your eyes teary from the cold and your figure stoic, numb limbs hanging by your side.)

“What are you doing here?” he asks, the question not as aggressive as it sounded out of your lips every time he paid a visit to the cinema on his days off for all these months.

“Uh… I forgot some things in the back and I wanted to take them home tomorrow, so I came back for them,” you hum, the practiced excuse slipping out of your lips with ease, “can you come help me?”

Sunwoo looks even more surprised at your question– although there is now a hint of confusion in the mix. What could you possibly have in the back to need his help with? For as far as he knows, you only ever kept your work uniform in your locker. “What? Can’t you get it yourself…?” he asks, noticing as you shake your head in disapproval.

“It’s… it’s on the top of the lockers and I can’t reach it, so-”

“Grab a chair…?”

You didn’t really expect to have Sunwoo question your half-assed excuse. Truly, you thought this was going to go smoothly– but knowing Kim Sunwoo, you should’ve known it was never going to go the way you planned. You’re determined to win, though.

And so it’s the time to bring out the big guns– men never say no when you praise them and make yourself look incompetent.

“Please? I don’t feel like bringing a chair and you’re tall enough. It will only take a second…” you pout, watching as the male in front of you sighs and stands up from his seat, nodding at your humble request.

Sunwoo follows you as you walk down the corridor, your heart thumping with the start of your little plan. Your steps are calculated and your movements carefully programmed, the nervousness in your stomach making you even more giddy with every meter of distance you two cross.

Before you two get a chance to make it to the back, you make a swift turn and open the doors to one of the rooms on the left of the hall, dragging Sunwoo by his hand and tugging him inside. His body stumbles against yours, but the door closes behind him faster than he can react to the impact. Steadying the boy back to his feet, you watch him with anticipation, awaiting his reaction.

The truth is, you haven’t thought the plan out this far. The depiction of it in your brain always ended with you sneaking him into the projecting room and his curious eyes peering into yours. Something about the image of the events always made you feel too overwhelmed– you never dared to imagine the situation further. (That would mean admitting some hidden desires to yourself, so you never even tried. That all makes this situation twice as nerve-wrecking, though.)

“What… are we doing here?” he asks, eyes darting around the darkness of the projection room, the only light illuminating his pretty features being the movie playing behind the glass of the small booth.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to watch The polar express with me?” you ask, voice a few octaves higher than usual.

“I… did…” he mumbles, confusion making him stumble over his own words.

“Well, you are working and I leave tomorrow, so I figured I had to find a way…” you shrug, watching as Sunwoo looks at you a little frozen, big eyes staring you down, gears turning in his head. You can’t really read him– you don’t really know if he’s going to laugh at you or send you home for ruining his shift. You don’t know if he appreciates the gesture, or if he thinks you’re being embarrassing. You don’t know if he registers the slight tremble of your hands and the lightness of your breathing, you don’t know if he realizes how much his reaction could make your day or completely ruin it (just like always), and so, you panic– and when you panic, you ramble. “I know we are technically not supposed to be here– well, me, at least– but I think that being with the owner’s son could make my boss let me off even if he somehow finds out, which I doubt he will, but–”

Sunwoo’s face starts slowly morphing, the slightest of shifts slowly adding up to a change of expression, having the male break out into the biggest, happiest grin you’ve ever seen him sport. His eyes light up and glaze your features in the softest of touches, his head shaking in disbelief. “Oh, you’re adorable.”

“What?” you ask, your heart doing seven somersaults and five cartwheels, eyes a big pool of surprise.

“You did this for me?” he beams, his grin so big and pretty it takes your breath away. Butterfly wings tickle in your stomach at the sight, having you mentally curse yourself– hold it together, Y/N.

“I- I mean, I didn’t really do anything, we just sneaked in–”

“This is the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for me,” Sunwoo hums, the teasing tone making its comeback in his voice, “actually, this might be the first sweet thing you’ve ever done for me–”

“Well, okay,” you roll your eyes, an embarrassed laugh dragging out of your throat as you turn on your heel and walk closer to the little table in the opposite end of the room, needing to avert your gaze from the boy for at least a second. The air is suddenly too heavy and it’s hard for you to breathe, heat rushing to your cheeks.

Eyes focusing on the screen in front of you, your brain tries hard to focus on your favorite Christmas movie. Failing, your head running thoughts full of conflicting emotions and erratic exclamation marks screaming the name of the boy behind you, you ask yourself how and when exactly you’ve gotten yourself into this mess.

Maybe you shouldn’t have gotten this job in the first place.

Ears painfully alert, listening to each sound heard in the small projecting room– the shuffling of Sunwoo’s feet as he nears your figure, the muffled noise of the movie playing in the screening room in front of you, the resonance of your own heartbeat in your ears as Sunwoo’s hands suddenly sneak around your middle, your jacket squeaking from the contact of his limbs as he hugs you.

“What–”

“Don’t fight me, Y/N. Just this once,” he hums, voice deep, but still a bit hesitant. It’s like he’s walking on unsteady land, cautious of his movements in fear of making you run away. He’s in a new territory, in your personal space– the scent of his cologne fills your nostrils again as his head settles itself on your shoulder, the two of you silently watching the movie for a few seconds, not really knowing how to proceed.

There’s something intimate in the way he holds you, in the way the movie is a mere background noise to the marathon of your thoughts, the blue light illuminating your faces as you both try your hardest to keep your cool.

A flashing thought of just how much you from a few months ago would hate the position it’s in right now passes by your brain, making you instantly feel foolish. Oh how much you’d love it if you stood here unaffected right now– there’s no way to battle the warmth flooding your insides right at this moment, though.

“This is nice,” he mumbles, voice barely louder than a whisper. “Thank you,” he says, your insides squeezing at the sincerity. It’s not often you get to see this side of Sunwoo– the sweet, patient one, the side of him that makes you feel safe in his arms and appreciated with the soft tone in his words. And while you realize you don’t hate the playful side of him just as much as you thought you did, you must admit the novelty of the situation makes you feel a bit more joyful than you’d like to admit.

The weight of his head disappears from your shoulder, making you feel momentarily disappointed by the action. You expect him to pull away and take a seat on the chair, to finally focus on the movie playing in front of your eyes, the thought alone making your spirit fall. The fire in your inside lights up like a match thrown into a pool of gasoline just as fast again, though, when you feel soft lips come in contact with your cheek.

They stay only for a second before they disappear, an airy laugh landing in your ear a second later. “Please don’t run away now,” he says, tone of voice uncertain, telling you that now the ball is in your court– your next actions could either make him the happiest man on Earth, or completely break him.

The choice is yours.

Your head turns his way, eyes instantly locking with his brown orbs searching for any signs of discomfort in your face. Slowly, as if still processing the events of before, your eyes trail over his features– the awfully handsome way his face was sculpted, the softness of his eyes and the sharpness of his jaw, the slope of his nose and the plushness of his lips. They’re not as chapped today, making you wonder if he started wearing vaseline, and before you get a chance to stop yourself, you start wondering of the way his lips would feel on yours, imagination running wild.

He heaves out a shaky breath, your eyes darting back into his– as if to ask for approval, see if he’s okay with it. There’s a dazy look in them, gaze pressed to your lips, then to your eyes, then your lips again– a look you take as an invitation as you act against all your best judgment and lean towards him, pressing your mouth against his.

As if testing the waters, you make the kiss short. It was long enough to engrave it into your brain, though– to remember the way his perfectly shaped lips pressed against yours, the way the world stopped just for a moment, the way he tasted of the strawberry mints he always eats at work whenever he has nothing to do.

Sunwoo seems to find liking in the action– lips glazing yours again, pressing another peck to them before he deepens the kiss, the tingling in your fingertips intensifying and the excitement bubbling in your frame making you turn in your position, front facing him and pressing up against his chest. His hands quickly adjust, slipping under your opened jacket and settling on your clothed waist, the slightest contact making your knees weak and settle your bottom against the table behind you, hands grabbing the fabric of his sweatshirt.

He pulls back to catch some air, a boyish grin breaking out on his face, forehead knocking against yours in a sweet, giddy manner. “I’ve wanted to do this for months,” he huffs.

The sentiment makes a thousand question marks appear in your head– why did he make your life a living hell, then? Why did he pull pranks on you and make you hate every second spent with him? Why did he make you so furious each time and argued with you about the smallest things? How could Sunwoo possibly have wanted this for months, when you just only started noticing his attractiveness a few weeks ago?

“Why–”

“I’ll tell you later,” he says, cutting you off as he presses his lips against yours again, your mouth automatically welcoming his presence. Brain erased of all previous questions, his kisses working like a spell, you focus all your senses on the man in front of you.

Having your hands feeling up his abdomen, Sunwoo hesitantly asks for entrance with his tongue, running it along your lower lip until you welcome him in. You like this type of power battle much more than the one you had going on until now, and with each new movement, you feel yourself falling apart under him.

His fingers tug down on the sides of your jacket, pulling it down. You don’t need it anymore– with how heated you’ve gotten, you are actually kind of happy that it is gone. One of his cold hands sneaks under the hem of your jumper, fingertips trailing up and down your side, the other one tugs down the hat from your head, discarding it somewhere on the table behind you before it finds its place on the side of your jaw, angling your head in a way that allows him to deepen the kiss even more, the contact of your lips growing firmer as seconds go by.

Your scarf is swiftly untangled off your neck, Sunwoo’s skilled lips blindly trailing down the side of your mouth towards your jaw, feathery kisses ticking you before he gets more bold and sucks on the side of your throat, a shaky breath shyly escaping your lips.

“Sunwoo…” you say, tone of voice not really present, no real intention behind the call of his name.

The boy hums against your neck, having you gasp again when he lightly bites the softness of your skin, your hands shooting up to tangle in his hair when he licks the spot to soothe it after. Threading your fingers through his locks to ground yourself, you can’t believe you ever hoped for him to get a trim.

His hands firmly hold the underside of your thighs before he hoists you up on the table, continuing his confident attack on your neck when you’re sitting comfortably on the hard surface. It’s not like you didn’t feel excited, the tiniest bit thrilled at the mental image of his possessive marks all over your throat, but you were glad it was freezing outside and you could wear a turtleneck to hide the bruises from your family tomorrow. He nuzzles his nose into the hot skin of your neck, the action making you grin in ecstasy and endearment.

Getting lost in the way he was handling you, his touches firm, yet delicate, acted out in a way that makes you feel safe and comfortable with his passionate ministrations, you almost don’t notice the door swinging open, the figure of your boss like striking like the lightning in the doorway of the screening room.

“Sunwoo!”

The boy jumps, his body quickly ungluing itself off yours, as he listens to his father scolding him. “I don’t care what you two have going on over here, but you’re on clock! There’s a line waiting for the tickets for tomorrow’s movie and someone has to sell them right now.”

The boy clears his throat, voice a little hoarse. “Coming,” he says, trying to keep his composure. His hair’s a little tousled, cheeks rosy and lips puffed– the image that will haunt you in your sweetest nightmares now– and before you get a chance to say anything or let your brain process the events of the last few minutes, your panic works faster, making you act.

Quickly scattering for your things, you run out of the projecting room without saying goodbye to either Sunwoo or your boss, never once looking back.

You think of what you’ve done on your way home, bones freezing now that they weren’t in his presence. You try hard to regret your actions, but you don’t find it in you to do so– it’s kind of hard with the feeling of his lips still playing with yours.

Even though you’d hate to admit it just a few weeks ago, you must do it now.

Kim Sunwoo does make a really good kisser.

TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – PRIDE AND PREJUDICE (2005)

There are many thoughts swimming around your brain as you walk through the coldness of the town the next day, your duffel bag hanging off your shoulder. There’s a conflict between the actions of your body and your thoughts – feet on their journey to the train station, but head stuck in the small projection room of your workplace, your coworker’s kisses occupying your every sober thought.

It’s not surprising, but you haven't heard from Sunwoo since you left the cinema last night. Not a single text or a call– but you figure that this is just your dynamic. Sunwoo’s never been much of a texter when it came to you. He’s never had the reason to text or call you, unless it was work-related, and you think it will stay that way, even though you did make out with him just last night.

Maybe he regretted it. Maybe he just didn’t feel like pondering on the events any longer– maybe it was just a one-time thing for him and he didn’t put much significance to it. You wouldn’t know– it’s not like you’re suddenly an expert on the way he feels and operates.

You, though? How do you feel about the turn of events? Despite not wanting to admit it to yourself, the answer came to you the second you tried to fall asleep last night, every soaring thought in your brain showing you the reflection of his dazed look, desires of wanting him to look at you that way all the time oh so skilfully infesting themselves into every crevice of your neocortex. You want Sunwoo to like you. You want Sunwoo to want you. You want Sunwoo to be so enchanted with your existence that he thinks about you before he goes to sleep at night– just like you have done for the past few weeks.

The answer comes to you again when you feel something wet fall on the top of your cheek, making you turn your eyes towards the sky. Your breathing comes out in puffs of air as you watch the magic happen right in front of you– and as you watch the snowflakes scatter all around the place, you are in another inner argument. While the rational side of your brain is screaming at you to keep walking to the station so you don’t miss your train home, the delirious side is cooperating with your feet for once, your figure crossing to the other side of the street and walking over to the place you could get to even with your eyes closed at this point; all because you suddenly remember the conversation you had with Sunwoo when you were putting on ornaments to the Christmas tree.

It’s the first snow of the season.

Kim Sunwoo loves it when it snows.

Speed-walking towards the vintage movie theater at the corner of the town’s square, you feel something akin to childish excitement bubbling in your insides, a hint of nervousness inviting itself into your insides when you push the door open and aim straight towards the ticket booth, where you know Sunwoo will be sitting, wasting another shift away.

He’s there– eyes pressed towards the window, gaze following the snowflakes kissing the cold ground. You expected more excitement in his character, more childlike joy in his figure– and after taking in his composure: shoulders slouching and fingers picking at the skin of his cuticles, you suddenly feel silly for coming.

Well, here goes nothing, you think.

“Sunwoo,” you call, making the boy snap his head towards you in surprise, big eyes meeting yours the moment he recognises your voice.

You don’t receive a verbal response for a while. The boy just stares at you, a bit hesitant and clueless. His face reminds you of a small puppy trying to take in the new situation in front of it. His lips are formed into a small pout, gears in his brain turning and trying to process the reality of having you standing there, face beaten from the cold.

Clearing your throat, you try to take charge of the situation. “It’s snowing outside,” you say, eyes peering out of the window, all thoughts suddenly escaping your brain, words blanking off your tongue, “and, well… you said you like the snow, so…”

The boy’s mouth hangs agape, a twinkle in his eyes slowly appearing once again when he stares at you, your nervousness doing wonders to your conversation skills. “I- I don’t even know what I wanted to say with that, it’s just- I don’t know… I saw it was snowing and I automatically came here, so-” you stutter, the sentence cutting off as Sunwoo jumps to his feet and grins, wordlessly taking your hand into his and dragging you outside.

The duffel bag falls off your shoulder somewhere in the middle of the hall, discarded to the floor, before Sunwoo sharply halts in his steps and runs back towards the ticket booth, still dragging you with him by the hand. The boy grabs something off the table, the item not visible in your rear point of view, and before you have a chance to register what’s happening, you’re outside of the building again, coldness instantly slapping you in the face.

It’s dark out, but the heaviness of the snow provides enough light in the silent evening for you to see where you’re going under the yellow lampposts on the street. Instantly noticing the lack of Sunwoo’s warm hand in yours when he suddenly lets go, you turn your head to look at the male.

Terror fills your veins when you notice him gathering snow from the ground and pressing it into a tight ball, a screech escaping your throat when you watch him swing it at you, a playful, boyish grin playing with his features. The male chases you around and most of the snowballs don't even hit your running figure (he does have an awful aim), but you still duck anyway and try your hardest to win your snowball fight.

Numb fingers creating snowballs and halting them at his tall frame, but missing most of the time due to his fast reflexes, you laugh and let go of all the worries and questions clouding your judgment. Sunwoo looks enthusiastic, so much more lively than when you found him in the ticket booth just a few minutes ago– but that’s still not enough for you to let him win.

Gathering the icy texture into your hands, you run towards him, taking advantage of his inattention as he’s bent over and taking more snow into his hold, and halt the whiteness into his face just as he straightens his back and wants to prepare for his attack.

More laughter bubbles out of your chest when you watch him drop his snowball to the ground, admitting defeat. The snow is all over his face– slowly running down his cheeks like teardrops, redness tinting his nose and the sides of his face.

The male shudders from the cold, and you instantly start feeling bad. Only now you realize that he ran out without a coat, a gasp escaping your throat. “Oh god,” you mourn, hands flying towards his frozen face to wipe off the snow from his cheeks, fingers carefully tracing over his cold skin. His eyes open as he watches you, something in his gaze so tender you feel yourself melting even in the middle of the snowstorm.

The male shuffles his hands into the front pocket of his gray hoodie, taking out the item you now recognise to be the hat you accidentally forgot in the projecting room yesterday (and already mentally paid goodbye to), his frozen fingers tugging the fabric onto your head.

“Why are you putting this on me? You’re the one that’s freezing over here!” you scold him, shaking your head at the male.

He rewards you with an amused grin, watching your next moves. Acting on auto-pilot, not really putting much thought into your actions, you unzip your jacket and step impossibly near to the male. Holding the jacket open, you hug him around his middle, making sure you are sharing the warmth with him and keeping him as close as possible, shielding him from the cold with both the fabric of your puffer jacket and the heat radiating off your body.

Faces just inches away from each other, you peer at his face. He wears a warm expression, eyes peeking out from behind his dark bangs. Clouds of breath escape his mouth when he speaks, voice quiet, as if to not ruin the atmosphere. “I thought you would regret it,” he says, making you break out into a foolish smile.

“I thought so too,” you nod.

“And you don’t?”

Shrugging, you reply. “Not really.”

“Why?” he asks, suddenly doubtful. “You said you hated me. Which was odd to hear, honestly, since I did all this to get your attention anyway and I thought it was just how our dynamic works, but… I could see how it could be annoying to you…”

Chuckling, you roll your eyes at the sudden revelation. It’s sickeningly sweet how endearing he looks when he doubts himself, explaining himself to you in a nervous blabber. “I don’t hate you. At least not anymore.”

“You don’t?”

“No,” you shake your head, a tender gaze shared between the two of you, “I actually quite like you, I think…” you mumble, a little bashful to admit it out loud.

“You do?” he asks, the twinkle in his eye glimmering twice as much as ever before, tone of voice playful, yet laced with honest joy and surprise at your confession.

“I do,” you nod, voice barely louder than a whisper as you watch him lean closer towards your face, cold nose bumping into yours before he angles his head, breath mixing in with yours in the few seconds before he dares to kiss you again, capturing your lips with his.

The kiss is sweet. The kiss tastes of strawberry mints and the first snow, of unsaid confessions and longing looks sent your way every time you weren’t looking. The kiss makes your stomach fill with a thousand little butterflies, it melts away the ice around you, the two of you like a spark of a fire in the middle of a snowy land.

His actions have your composure faltering, hands untangling from behind him and moving up to cradle his face. He melts under your touch, leaning into you as your fingers trail over his cheekbones. Holding on to him, thumbs padding his soft skin, you’re reminded of the cold only when he breaks off you and shudders again, teeth clattering from the freezing temperature.

“Let’s get you inside,” you say, planting a short peck to his lips, “before you turn into an icicle,” you giggle, watching as he scrunches up his face.

“I won’t,” he shakes his head, “love warms me up,” he grins, making you roll your eyes at his bold statement.

“You’re so cheesy.”

“But you quite like me anyways, no?”

Sighing, moving away from him and tugging him back inside the cinema, you shake your head at the boy. “I’ll think about it on my train home,” you bite back, opening the door to the theater and aiming towards the duffel bag you dropped on your way out.

Sunwoo watches you with a warm gaze, an adorable smile playing with his lips. His figure seems to be visibly taking in the heat again, his face adorning a flush, pink color.

“So I take it as you’re not quitting anymore, then?” he teases as you walk back to the door, both of you ignoring the customers waiting for their tickets in the line in front of the forgotten booth.

“We’ll see,” you shrug.

“I’ll text you the schedule for January?”

“You better text me about something else too, Kim Sunwoo,” you bark back, opening the door towards the cold landscape, “or you’re gonna have a very uncomfortable return back to work in January!”

The boy laughs, the noise like a Christmas carol to your ears. “Noted.”

Slipping outside, you watch as he waves at you goodbye, your feet dragging through the snow towards the train station having more pep to their step now. You don’t even know if you can make it to the train on time, but you surprisingly have no regrets– you can always catch the next one, right?

Mentally wanting to slap yourself for the lovesick grin playing with your lips, you sigh.

The male that once made your life a living hell is now the one you look forward to seeing the most once you come back after Christmas break. It’s kind of strange, really.

One would think that working with movies on the daily would prepare you better for the biggest plot twist of your life.

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bahablastplz · 5 months ago

Text

CW: Smut, degradation a little bit, p in v sex, unprotected sex WC: 1000

Thinking abt boyfriend! Seungmin with this lip piercing...

Sitting next to your boyfriend on the couch, you couldn't help but be affected by his appearance. Your boyfriend is usually very modest in his appearance, so when he came home from his photoshoot today you weren't expecting his outfit. His sleeves rolled up showed off his arms, muscular and bulkier thanks to his recent time spent at the gym, and the smoky eye makeup applied by the stylists added to his sexy, edgy appearance. The centerpiece of the outfit though was the lip ring, silver double-hooped and accentuating his beautiful pink lips.

"You're staring," he points out.

"Huh?" "You invited me over to watch a movie together after the shoot, but you're staring at me, bubs. I'd almost think you like me or something," he jokes. Your face heats up. "I do like you. I love you, even. So let me stare," you say, moving closer. His hand snakes around your waist and you stare into his eyes, your gaze flitting between his eyes and his piercing.

"I wanna ride you," you confess suddenly. Seungmin blinks at you once, twice, before breaking out into a grin.

"What's gotten into you? You're feral," he laughs.

"Nothing! Can I not appreciate how good-looking my boyfriend is?" you ask, moving over to straddle his lap. You wrap your arms around him, unable to help yourself when your gaze flits down to the lip ring again.

"Is it the lip ring? Seriously? Is that what has you so riled up?" he teases, grabbing your waist and pushing you closer to him so you're flush against his bulge.

"I'm not riled up," you say, but it's breathy and his grin tells you he knows you're lying.

"Oh yeah? So I shouldn't do this?" He rolls his hips up into yours, pushing you into him to make sure you feel his bulge against your clothed core.

You whimper, face hot as you look away so as to not be exposed at how affected you really are. His fingers grab your chin instantly, pulling your face hard to make sure you're looking right at him.

"Don't look away," he coos. "Thought you wanted to appreciate how good-looking I am? No?" You nod your head enthusiastically. "Then look," he demands.

His hands pull your shirt up and over your head, leaving you completely exposed to him. His fingers tug and pull at your nipples just the way you like, as he's spent years getting to know your body and your reactions for moments like this, where he can get you to fall apart for him in mere seconds. You can't help but instinctually grind your hips against him, trying to get any stimulation that you can.

You do as you're told and don't look away from him. You watch your boyfriend's stoic expression, completely focused on your body with dark eyes.

"I bet you're so wet right now, aren't you bubs?" Teary-eyed from frustration, you can't do anything but nod your head. "Think you can cum just like this? I don't even have to touch you, do I baby?"

Your movements get faster, more frantic in response. You're sure he's right, you probably could cum just like this, but when his hands move to your hips to still you you whine.

"Poor thing," he coos. "Were you close?"

"Please, please, please please pleasepleaseplease Seung--"

He shushes you, fingers moving up to grip your hair right at your scalp and pulling just hard enough to silence you, a breathy gasp releasing from your lips.

"It's okay baby. Weren't you saying you wanted to ride me, hmm? Be good for me and cum on my cock instead, okay?"

You're standing now on trembling legs, moving frantic to help your boyfriend get his pants off of his body. He chuckles condescendingly at your actions.

You can't get back into his lap fast enough, and he lifts you up by your waist to line up his cock with your entrance. Just his tip pushes in and you can't help the tears that start escaping from your eyes. He waits until you take a deep breath, preparing yourself until he pushes you down on top of him, now completely full of him.

His hands come back and rest behind his head, as if to say, 'it's your turn.' So you lift your hips, still shaky and start riding him just as you said you would. You start off slow, just to get used to him, but as you start gaining momentum again your ride him in earnest, wet and messy and fast just the way you both like it. You can only hear your own breathing and the sound of your thighs slapping together, and it doesn't take long for your high to approach once again.

He looks at you, lips slightly parted and eyes glazed over, and you see it again, that shiny silver fucking lip ring, and despite yourself and your need to see his face your lips are crashing against his, desperate and hungry. The ring is cold against your own lips but you can't find it in yourself to care, tongue pushing into his mouth eagerly.

Your hips start to stutter as your orgasm crashes over you, and though your mouth never separates from his you're breathing heavy into him, open mouths against one another as a squeak falls from your throat.

He grabs the backs of your thighs, lifting you up so he can piston into you, fucking you through your orgasm. His head falls back as you pulse around him, and his hips snap into yours harder, harder, and you can tell he's close now too.

You clench around him purposefully, and that's enough for his orgasm to crash over him just as hard, his own hips stilling as he spills into you.

You hunch over, finally, the two of you catching your breath. When you look at him again, a sheen of sweat coating both of your features, his hand comes to brush away a stray piece of hair stuck to your forehead.

"Never take that piercing out. Never," you tell him. His lips press into yours once more.

"Never," he agrees.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

a/n: yeah so that's my reaction to the new pics... i'm not okay

masterlist

#skz #skz smut #skz x reader #skz x you #stray kids #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #kpop smut #kpop x reader #kim seungmin x reader #seungmin x reader #seungmin #kim seungmim #seungmin smut #stray kids fanfic

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railingsofsorrow · 5 months ago

Text

I hate you, until I don't

[spencer reid x reader]

summary: three times you annoyed Spencer and three times Spencer annoyed you, proving the two of you cannot stand each other. . . until the one time that there was less annoyance and more sexual tension.

pairing: s.reid x reader

w.c: 3.6K

warnings/content: inaccurate medical procedures (don't come for me); language; flirting; enemies to lovers; case-related violence; suggestive content (no smut but I'm classifying this as +16).

navi

masterpost

cm masterlist

━━━━━━━━━

[The Coffee]

Smoke should be coming out of his ears by now, from the way his neck is pink and you're sure he's also got his jaw clenched by how his furiously he's writing on the board, connecting the leads.

You've been fifteen minutes out of the room and Spencer has figure out the whole case.

“Why are you so angry?”

“I'm not angry.”

You do not need to be a profiler to know he had that answer on the tip of his tongue, ready to give the excuse to someone who asked the inevitable question. Right, you're not gonna fall for that.

“Um. Okay.”

Spencer clicks the pen twice before you settle beside him, perching your hip against the table. His tongue travels across his lips slowly, he's trying to focus but can't.

You don't know the reason. It could be a thousand things given that the local police you were working with have not been exactly welcoming to the FBI butting in on their case. Some cops acted hostile towards the team, but it was nothing you couldn't handle.

By handling it you meant switching your focus to something better: Reid. You both draw limits to be around each other. It's nothing personal (maybe?) but you just don't get along as you do with the rest of the team. That doesn't mean you don't work well together in the field, no. In 80% of field work, you have Spencer by your side exchanging ideas to come up with good conclusions. The other 20% is the time apart you require to breathe away from each other.

You don't hate him. If anyone hates Spencer Reid, they just might have to do a CT scan, that man doesn't have a single bad bone in his skinny body.

You, however, have a field day while annoying him. Though you're not particularly close, you throw harmless jabs at one another once in a while.

You are bored and Spencer is here, therefore...

“I'm not angry.” His tone is final as he lets his eyes fall on you to look back to the board. The crease between his brows deepens. You tilt your head curiously. You don't really care about what got him mad, though it is an interesting fact to see him actually pissed about something. It's a rare image. “Not angry at all.”

You kick his converse playfully, standing up fully. “I said okay, honey. You don't need to jump on my neck for it.”

Spencer rolls his eyes, clicking the pen three times this time. You watch his fingers clenching and unclenching around the pen.

“Don't call me honey.”

Blinking up at him innocently, you turn around and say, “sure, honey. I'm gonna go and grab some coffee.” You raise your index finger before leaving the room, interrupting him mid-speech. “For me only, of course.”

His mug was empty, you had seen as you walked into the room. He had dawned three of those already so of course you said that because you care about his health. Obviously. His scoff as you leave is the icing on the cake.

By the time he finishes the geographic profile, he finds his mug magically refilled with freshly brewed coffee.

━━━━━━━━━

[The Ambulance]

“If you had listened to me—”

“Don't you even fucking start. I have a gash on my forehead. My arm is numb and my knee is throbbing. You really think is wise to come in here and tell me I told you so? Disappear from my sight, now.”

Those words seem to go on deaf ears because he proceeds to crouch down to survey the damage on your face the paramedic is already assessing. His gaze barely falling on yours until it fixates on your head injury, amber eyes narrowing slightly as they usually did while he is concentrated and is about to sputter out some incredibly intelligent fact.

He does exactly that.

“She should have an X-ray of her neck. She's been flinching every time you're turning her head. And a CT scan, she was also hit in the head with a—”

You groan, not sure if it is because of the stitches or just deep-rooted anger towards your coworker.

“God— can you please...” You give a begging look to the paramedic, who seems to be having too much fun by the lifted corners of her mouth.

“— blunt object. Actually, you should be kept for observation for the entire night. Two days if possible.” He glances up at you, who presses your eyes shut instead of glaring, uncomfortable with the way the paramedic touches the sensitive spot on your neck. When you open them again, he's offering her a look of victory.

“Shut up, Reid.”

“It's a good idea.” The woman says for your distaste. Of course it is. Of course you agree with him.

“No, it isn't. I have a flight to catch to get back home and sleep on my comfortable bed, I do not need hospitals or needles or blood.” You intervene, mentally dreading to spend the night alone at a hospital in a city you have never visited.

“Do you have space for one more?” He questions suddenly, eyeing the inside of the ambulance. Your eyes widen at the implications of his actions. Before you have the chance to smash his head against the floor, he has already climbed into the ambulance, sitting comfortably in a corner.

You stare in disbelief. The paramedic isn't hiding her amusement anymore. she's outright laughing.

“Him? Not coming,” you say with finality, aggressively climbing into the ambulance, limping, to lie down on the stretcher.

However, he does come, rubbing in your face the whole way to the hospital about how right he was about the situation and that you shouldn't throw yourself in danger at any chance you get.

Hypocrite, as if he didn't do the same thing.

━━━━━━━━━

[The Book]

“Did you just skip to the end?” Spencer's voice laces with disbelief as he stares holes into the book between your fingers as if you have committed a heinous crime.

You glance up from him and back to the book briefly. “No?”

“You're an FBI Agent, you should know by now not to answer a question with a question.”

“You're an FBI Agent with three PhDs, you should know by now how rude it is to interrupt one's reading.” You send the jab as quick as he had thrown his, rolling your eyes.

“That doesn't apply if you're skipping to the end of the book—”

You sigh, tired. “I have to see if the process is worth it.”

“What?” Spencer shrieks out, switching his gaze from the book to you repeatedly. You press your lips shut, trying to suppress a smile. “What is that supposed to mean? You're supposed to enjoy and get surprised, not know everything—”

“I'll forget about the end if I start reading it.” Which is true, if you read one part of the story without the context from the previous pages, then your mind just wipes it out as you come back to where you were. You had a bad memory of story plots.

Spencer proceeds to get more offended by each word that comes out of your mouth.

“No.”

You let yourself chuckle this time. “What do you mean—hey!” You hiss as he yanks the book out of your hands, shutting it and hiding it behind him as some kid that's trying to hide his favorite toy so others won't find it. “Give it back, Spencer!”

“You have to promise me to not read the end.”

“I don't have to promise you anything.”

“You want this back?” He waves the book in his hands. Your book. He threatens you with your book.

You gape at him, then huff petulantly, crossing your arms like a toddler. To anyone who was watching, the both of you looked a lot like children bickering in the park. “Fine.” He offers you a skeptical gaze, narrowing his eyes with a slight scrunch of his nose and you can't help your reaction, really. Your lips twitch in a smile and you bite your cheek so hard it draws blood so you stop being stupid.

He gives you your book back and pointedly studies your figure as you read, making sure you do not, in fact, skip to the end of the book.

Spencer Reid is absolutely infuriating. No matter how cute he is.

━━━━━━━━━

[The Drunk Confession]

“I would've gotten a divorce if you were my secret lover.” You tell Emily with a slurred speech caused by the seven shots and two margaritas — maybe three, you stopped counting at the fourth shot. The table erupts in laughter at your claim. “No doubt.”

Emily smirks at you, leaning as close as she can across from you, Luke is watching the exchange as if on a tennis match. Garcia slaps his shoulder.

“Every. Time.” JJ mumbles with a roll of her eyes, turning to Spencer who looks bored out of his mind. “Don't you get tired of seeing them flirting every time they get drunk? It's getting old.”

Spencer shrugs, a scowl setting on his face as he glances at you and Emily. He looks away.

“Just ask her out, for god's sake.”

JJ almost spits her drink. “What?”

Spencer rolls his eyes, “you. Emily. Date. Do it.” He doesn't really feel like repeating himself again. Spencer doesn't know why he's so annoyed all of a sudden.

“Well, why don't you do it?” JJ snaps, narrowing her eyes at him, who blinks at her. “Yeah, ask her out instead of judging me like that.”

“No offense, but I don't see Emily that way.”

“Of course you don't and I'm not talking about Emily, Spencer,” JJ says pointedly. “You know I'm not.”

It doesn't take long for all of you to call it a night. The sober ones, at least, because the rest could stay until the morning without complaining, driving themselves to an alcoholic coma. That would have been your case. Fortunately, it isn't.

And now, Spencer is in charge of driving you home against his will because you live close by.

Great.

“I can put on my own seatbelt, thanks.” You frown as he lifts his hand to help you put the seatbelt on. He retracts it with a roll of eyes.

“Be my guest.”

“Yeah,” you mumble quietly, leaning your head back and closing your eyes as you feel the car being turned on. “Don't worry, m' not gonna puke in your car or whatever.”

Spencer freezes on his way to changing gears. “Are you feeling sick?”

“I just told you—”

He rolls his eyes, “I just meant that driving may make it worse, so if you want, we can wait and then I'll take you home.”

You open one eye to narrow him down suspiciously. It wasn't that bad. You just had drink a lot, and your body is having a completely normal reaction, though it was a bit annoying. But you don't think you're about to throw up.

“Careful, you almost sound like you care about my well-being.”

Spencer drove off the parking lot with a huff, “sure. If you do puke in my car I'll leave you alone in the middle of the avenue.”

A hiccup came out at the same time as your laugh and it ended up turning into a snort, which was not that graceful and you quickly covered your mouth.

He gave you a sideways glance and you told him to keep driving, ignoring the twitch on his lips you thought you saw. No, that was definitely not there.

“You would never do that to me.”

“Try me.”

“I can't believe I had a thing for you.”

“What?”

He almost had the urge to hit on the brakes but controlled himself. You hummed, watching the trees move as the car drove past them in the avenue. You rolled your window down, leaning your face outside a little, scrunching your nose when droplets of rain poked your nose.

"Oh, it's gonna rain."

"It's already raining- what do you mean you had a thing for me? What does that mean?"

"Are you nervous?"

"What- No!" He shifted his attention between the road and you quickly.

You nodded, pretending you believed him and folding your arms across your chest as you leaned back on the seat, closing the car window so you wouldn't get wet.

“You're kinda my type, Spencer.”

“I'm- I'm your type— what does that mean?” He insisted and you rolled your eyes with a groan, you wished you were drunker than this.

“... pretty boy with pretty brown eyes ... smart as hell and has a questionable sense of style. C'mon. It's like you're begging me to fall in love with you." You cleared your throat. "I had a crush on you, as in the past sense."

Spencer squinted. "You just spoke in the present tense-"

"Yeah, I knew you were going to focus on that, leave me alone, I'm drunk."

He pressed his lips together to avoid laughing at your expense.

"Right."

How come he never noticed it? He couldn't stop thinking about it.

“Are you still thinking about it?”

Spencer turned on your street, biting his cheek. “No.”

“Why not?”

He spun his neck to look at you and almost drove into the sidewalk, which made you huff out a laugh.

“Careful, genius. You might crash us because you figure out somebody has a crush on you.”

Spencer scoffed, turning the engine off to glance at you in disbelief. “Are you serious? You just spoke in the present tense again.”

Shrugging, you leaned back on the seat, sideways to stare at him, a little smile playing on your lips because you were enjoying the banter too much.

“Did I?”

“Yes.” he frowned and his nose scrunched in the cutest way possible you just felt like biting it.

“It started when I saw you in glasses.” You admitted, nails scratching against your jeans distractedly. “You were like a knock-off Peter Parker, just cuter and way more attractive.”

He scowled at you but you were able to see the clear pink cheeks he had acquired upon being called attractive. You weren't lying. The biggest lie and cruelty of this world was that Spencer Reid wasn't looked at twice by girls or boys. You would've been fanning over him at high school.

“You're mocking me,” he concluded.

You denied with a hum from deep within your throat. “Nu-huh. I'm not.”

His eyes analyse every micro expression of your face and you stare as he does so. His lips twitch before he speaks and your eyes fall on them.

“We're here.”

He chose to say instead, his brain on slow thinking mode as you stared at him like you were contemplating something in your head.

“You want me to go?”

Spencer blinks up at you, big brown eyes wide as a deer caught in headlights, the corner of your mouth lifts upwards slightly.

“What do you mean? I gave you a ride.” He replied, confusedly. “Do you need help to go up to your apartment? Are you dizzy?”

“Not dizzy.” You shifted, pulling your knees up to hold them. Shoes off ever since you entered his car. “It was just a question.”

“Are you testing me?”

You tilted your head, causing a few strands of your hair to be released from behind your ear as you rummaged through his glove box. A book — of course there was a book in there —, a lens cleaner spray — you wondered if he still used his glasses, just not on the field —, two hair ties — you lift a brow at that — and lastly, his license and vehicle registration — you smile at the picture. He snatched it out of your hand to pull it back on the glove box and close it.

“Why would I be testing you?”

“To make fun of me.”

Your eyes narrowed in slits.

“I don't like making fun of people, less alone you.”

Spencer held your stare for a hot second before he leaned back on his seat with a sigh.

You poked his hip, laughing when he jumped in surprise.

“You're so cute.”

“Stop that.”

“Calling you cute or tickling you?”

“Both!” He shrieked out, holding your hand as you attempted to tickle him again. You adjusted yourself on the seat, studying the way he seemed intrigued by your hand. Or the fact he hadn't let go of it. “I can help you up to your apartment, ” he said after a moment of silence, something stirring in his stomach at the way you were looking at him.

"You want to help me up to my apartment?" Now you are just riling him up for the sake of it. You hold his hand before he can let go of yours, a smirk dancing around your lips. "Sorry, I'll stop."

"You're so annoying,"

"You think so?" Your voice is low, careful. You lean forward slightly.

"Yes," he says with uncertainty. He lifts his other hand slowly, brushing your hair behind your ear because it kept falling on your cheek.

Your throat feels dry all of a sudden, and you swallow hard, shivering as his fingers trail down your cheek. "Spencer."

"Mhm?" He's not paying attention to what you're saying, too busy entranced by your lips to do anything else. You just wish he'd pull both of you out of your misery. Since he doesn't move, you take matters into your own hands and break the gap between the two of you. His breath halts and he takes one or two seconds to reciprocate the kiss, lips parting in surprise. You bask in the effect that you have on him before he pulls you in by the back of your neck and it's your turn to react surprised by his actions. Your back arches and a sound of contentment escapes your throat when his fingers press against your thigh.

You're straddling his lap in no time, his hands all over your body. You lower your lips to his neck, nibbling at his skin, satisfied with the moan he lets out in response to your touch.

Spencer says your name once. Twice. It's the third time that you actually hear him.

"What?"

"You're drunk," he breathes out, chest going up and down unsteadily. "We should- we should stop."

"I'm not drunk." You tilt your head, tracing his swollen lower lip with your thumb.

He chuckles nervously, grabbing your hands to pull it away from his neck and his neck so he could think straight for five minutes. "You are. You taste like tequila."

"Mhm, is that so?"

He groans, eyes dropping shut. "Don't do that."

Your smile widens into a menacing grin.

"Do what, genius?"

"This. You. You know what you're doing." Spencer insists half-heartedly, eyes fluttering open to stare at you. He can't help but stare down at your lips again, letting out a sigh.

Finally, your shoulders slump in dissatisfaction as you realize he wouldn't want to go forward as long as you have an ounce of alcohol in your blood.

"Who's annoying now?" You mumble, burying your head on his shoulders. His fingers trail up and down your bare arms, his hands then settle on your hip, drawing invisible circles there. You feel his lips press against the crown of your head. "You're gonna be the death of me," you whine, wrapping both arms around his middle. Spencer shakes with a chuckle and you smile into his skin.

There is no going back from this. You either screwed up your professional relationship or just initiated something really good.

You don't know which one is worse.

He goes up to your floor with you and you expect him to say goodbye as you step out of the elevator. He follows you to your door and finds the key in your purse that you had spent more than a minute trying to find it.

"You want to stay over?" You eye him, trying to sound nonchalant but in reality, you are expecting a yes.

It's not what you get.

"No." You conclude you screwed up your whole dynamic. He holds your wrist before you walk in and leave him in the hallway, pulling you back and cupping your cheek to press his lips to yours in a rather gentle and less frantic kiss than the ones you had just shared in the car. "Ask me when you're not drunk," he mumbles into your lips and you frown when he withdraws himself from you.

You understand his reasoning, but that doesn't mean you enjoy the thought of spending the night without him, finishing what you started.

"Will you want to stay over then?"

Spencer knows what you mean. You're asking if he will want to stay over after tonight, after the moment has passed and it's another day, or if he wants to forget and pretend it never happened.

"Yes." He doesn't hesitate, kissing your forehead before he takes a step back, ready to leave but not wanting to with the image of you leaning against your doorway, face slightly flushed after your make-out session. "Goodnight."

You munch on your lower lip, opening the door to go inside. He waits for you to close it but you walk out again, his eyes widening as you pull him into another kiss. Just as he's about to place his hands on your waist, you pull back, patting his chest.

"You're still annoying." You say, stepping back to enter your apartment, leaving him completely unresponsive in the middle of your hallway for a few minutes.

God, he hates you.

━━━━━━━━━

taglist: @lilyviolets ; @whore-for-spencer-reid ; @yeonalie @ninkieminjaj ; @hoeshissworld ; @r-3dlips ; @pleasantwitchgarden

#criminal minds fanfiction #reader insert #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #self insert

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risuola · 6 months ago

Text

▶ NEEDY AND SHAMELESS — Satoru was needy and couldn't deal with it himself.

contents: needy, whiny, whimpering Satoru (that's a warning!), college+roommates!au, nsfw, oral (m! receiving), reader discretion is advised — wc. 2585

a/n: dedicated to my dear 🎶 anon for creating the movement #HeadForGojo, love ya! but also, we're diving into dangerous waters with the trio and i'd like to think that the reader is closer physically with Satoru and mentally with Suguru but fear not, spicy Suguru is coming as well!

𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀 𝙈𝙀𝘿𝙇𝙀𝙔 | series masterlist

You’re not the type to get easily surprised.

Usually.

Living with two boys and knowing them for most of your life had prepared you to expect the unexpected and it was the spontaneity that was at the base of most of your best memories. The impromptu hitchhike travels during which you’d sprawl on top of either of their lap, the tight spaces in which you slept sandwiched between them, the unplanned sleepovers and long, nighttime rides on their motorbikes.

You’ve watched the stars with them, spread-eagled on the dew-sprinkled grass outside the city, talking the nights away while getting eaten alive by mosquitos and you loved every second of it. You’ve survived few days on nothing but instant ramen just so you three could get the best time at the beach without robbing a bank. You didn’t blink twice when Satoru once dragged you into a kissing competition just so you could win a two nights’ stay in one of the most luxurious hotels in Tokyo for all three of you around valentine’s day — you won of course, and after that you partied like royalty, getting drunk with Suguru on expensive champagne (and getting Satoru drunk), and jumping on beds in hotel-branded robes.

“I’m sorry, can you repeat that?” But this time you were flabbergasted. Blinking a little faster, you tried to force the gears in your head to turn and process what you just heard. There was no way he just asked you to—

“Can you suck my dick? Pretty please—”

—never mind. The question sounded just as unexpected as the first time, if not more. There was no reason to it, no background information, no nothing that could make it sound a little less out of place.

“Context?”

Gojo groaned. You watched his cheeks turning bright red, the tips of his ears crimson as well and his hand met his face, covering it, hiding it from your expectant gaze. He was nervous, he was embarrassed and you had no idea what the hell was going on underneath the white mop of fluffy hair, but it wasn’t hard to tell that there was smoke coming out of there. For a short moment you wondered if he’d be able to trigger the fire detectors in the building.

“God, this is so embarrassing. I can’t— fuck.” He stuttered and it was the first time in your life you herd him stumble over his own words. “I really can’t do this with my hand. I just can’t, it doesn’t feel right and I’m so fucking frustrated because I tried to get some girl from the campus to give me a head but I can’t force myself to get hard for them. I somehow go all limp and useless whenever they throw themselves at me and ironically the thought of you makes me so painfully, impossibly bricked up that I might just chop the thing off to feel some release.” He was speaking so quickly it was almost difficult to understand, looking everywhere but at you. His eyes were bouncing off the walls and furniture, windows and ceiling but not once settled on you.

“And you want me to get you off?” You questioned, making sure that you understand his rumble correctly and the moment you spoke, Satoru finally stopped fidgeting and froze. His gaze slowly made its way towards you and his breath hitched, his heart pounded in his chest, his whole body tensed up. His mouth opened and closed, and then opened again but nothing came out. It took him a good ten seconds to find his voce, and even then, it came out as barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” he said simply, the single word hung heavy between you. His hands were in the pockets of his sweatpants, fingers curling around something — maybe a coin, maybe his own sanity; knuckles turning white from the strain as he took another deep breath. “I know we’re friends and roommates and all sorts of things that should make this a terrible idea but, I swear to all gods out there, it’s not about me wanting you to get me off, it’s about me needing you to get me off.” He swallowed hard, the knot in his throat threatening to choke him. This was so wrong, so incredibly bad and yet, here he was, practically begging you to touch him. To taste him. To swallow him whole. “I know it’s weird and fucked up and probably a huge mistake, but I don’t know what else to do here.”

You saw the vulnerability in those cerulean orbs, the raw honesty behind his confession. The desperation in his voice almost broke your heart, he looked like he’s about to pass out from sheer exhaustion — emotional, mental, physical; every kind imaginable, and you knew him. It wasn’t one of his whims, you can see through them in a blink of an eye. He was serious, he was trembling, his eyes seemed to well with tears as he begged you.

“Does it come from the day you asked me to judge your cock?”

“Yeah, I guess so. You said I make you salivate and fuck, the vision stuck with me.”

And then, he dropped onto the bed, sitting on the edge with elbows resting on his knees as he buried his face in his hands. He swallowed thickly, gulping down the lump in his throat. He hated the thought of ruining what you had as friends, it terrified him.

“Satoru—” you let out a sigh and he flinched, straightening up and looking at you again.

"I'll do anything. I can eat you out after that to pay you back. I can clean the room for a month. Fuck, I can even give you money if you need it. I'm just fucking going to combust if it goes for any longer–“ He rambled, babbled, desperate to get his point across. "I'm so impossibly hard when you're around, it hurts and every time I try to get my shit together, it's just getting worse."

“You don’t have to pay me back, Toru,” you said lightly, laughing at his nervousness. “I love you, idiot, I’m not gonna let you suffer, though I warn you that I might suck at this, no pun intended.”

“You don’t even have to use your mouth, honestly, if it’s your hand I’m sure it’s still going to be fine, as long as it’s you.”

“Oh, no, if we’re doing this, you’re getting the proper, sloppy, messy head,” you teased and he nearly moaned. The very thought of your mouth wrapping around him almost made him cum in his pants.

His cheeks heated up, all of his body felt like it’s on fire and he loved the feeling. You were straightforward; there was never any pretense or games played between you and him and he adored that about you.

“Please,” he whimpered, paralyzed by the thrill of excitement. The nerves were churning in his stomach, ecstasy coursing through him like electricity through wires. He watched as you moved, putting down the phone, there was a grace in the way you were crawling to the edge of the bed and you made a little sound when you got down onto the floor. He was quick to grab a pillow to throw below your knees, and you shot him a little grin.

It felt odd to you, to kneel in front of your best friend like this with intention so explicit but you also felt at ease with it. It wasn’t pity that drove you, you just loved him genuinely and there was no forcing involved in the way your hands moved to give his thighs a little squeeze.

You chuckled, amused by how sensitive he was, how impatient when just the slightest touch of your fingers over his clothed legs was enough to make him jolt. You could feel the heat radiating from his body and as your eyes moved down from his face, you noticed how strained his cock was against the fabric of his pants. There was a tiny dark spot where his tip was underneath, precum soaking through the grey sweats and you leaned in, flicking your tongue over the cotton, teasing him and he moaned.

“Sweets, please, have mercy. Mochi, I beg you–“ he was a whimpering mess, he was flushed, his chest was heaving and you touched him just barely, through the clothes.

“Oh, patience Toru,” you grinned, reaching up and hooking your fingers over the waistband of his pants. The elastic snapped against his stomach, making him whine and you acted innocent as if you didn’t do it on purpose.

“I’d love to be patient but keep it going and I might just bust in my pants and then die,” he dramatized; his knuckles were turning white from the sheer force he was squeezing the sheets behind him.

Finally, you pulled on the band, taking both pants and underwear at once and his manhood sprung free. The tip hit his stomach, leaving a droplet of seed on his light skin and he twitched as the cool air hit his sensitive flesh. The sight of him made you swallow, the saliva gathering at your mouth because he did look delicious and yet again you were reassured at the belief that god has his favorites.

Dragging your nails across his thighs, you reached to wrap your fingers around him, feeling his weight against your palm and the girth you struggled to embrace at once. You stroked him few times, experimentally, and it made him writhe and fidget, with the whiniest of moans. Satoru felt like he’s going to go crazy, your touch was gentle yet firm and it sent sparks shooting up his spine. He bit his lip to stifle another moan, his hips bucked into your hand involuntarily, seeking more friction. Despite his best efforts to maintain control, he couldn’t help but squirm beneath your touch.

“Be a good boy,” you warned playfully, leaning in, and savoring the moan that broke his apology when you run your tongue along the curved underside of his dick, the veins there felt prominent against the flat of your muscle. The kiss you planted on the tip of it was almost tender, gentle; the salty taste of precum mixed with your own saliva when you twirled your tongue around him.

“Fuck, that feels amazing,” he managed to gasp out between his clenched teeth, his eyes fluttering shut as the pleasure surged through him. He could feel the heat, the tension coiling within him and he swallowed thickly. The sensation of your mouth was unlike anything he had ever experienced before and he felt his eyes rolling to the back of his head when you took him in. Satoru’s whole world narrowed down to the feel of your mouth on him — so wet and warm and wonderful — enveloping his cock in a velvety embrace that had him seeing stars. Your tongue was hot and slick, gliding expertly over his throbbing length. Each lick, each suck had him writhing in pleasure and he barely managed to hold his hips down, to not thrust them deeper into the dreamy embrace between your lips.

The mixture of precum and your saliva was coating his cock, dribbling down his length and your chin. Messy. You were bobbing your head up and down his length, taking more and more of him sloppily. You were greedy, your movements like a dance to an unknown melody with the main dancers being your tongue and his member. You were twirling, tasting, teasing him mercilessly. Your cheeks were hollowing and your nose meeting the few white hairs at the base as you took him deeper and deeper and he was moaning. Shamelessly, loudly and oh so sweetly.

“Swee–mhaah–‘m gonn—” he stuttered, whined, tried to warn you but the words came out incoherent and stretched along the sounds that were ripping through him. His heart pounded in his chest, a wild rhythm that matched the rapid beat of pulse in his veins. Satoru felt his body tensing, one of his legs bouncing as tried to keep himself from shooting his load into your mouth.

Panting, heavily, shakingly, he watched you below him. You looked pretty like this, so drop dead gorgeous and straight out a fantasy that he’s been pushing to the back of his mind for the longest time now. Truth is, he wanted you, needed you much more than a friend would long for a friend, but he was too scared to act on it.

You hummed, the vibrations of your vocal cords pushing him near the edge, sending jolts of pleasure straight to his balls. His cock throbbed in your mouth, leaking precum that coated your tongue with its salty sweetness and he squealed, reaching to grab your head, your hair, to pull you away before he—

A loud, lewd mewl cut through the room and Gojo’s body went rigid as wave after wave of pure, carnal pleasure washed over him. He saw fireworks underneath his eyelids, he felt them exploding inside his veins, and he exploded too. The feel of your mouth sent him spiraling right into climax, speeding with no brakes and he was delighted. His cock twitched, pulsed with each spurt of cum and his entire body trembled with ecstasy, head tilted back, spine arched and mouth agape.

Joyful. He felt so utterly, unapologetically joyful.

Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over him, leaving him panting and spent in their wake. He looked down again, catching the sight of you lapping at his cum, licking him clean and he finally went limp, falling back onto the bed with a weak, gleeful moan.

“Fuck… that was… oh god,” he panted, his blue eyes glazed oved with delight. His chest was raising and falling rapidly, each breath coming in short gasps as he struggled to regain control of his senses but he didn’t want to. He wished to bask in the afterglow a little more, a little longer.

You finished the job with a loud pop as you took him out of your mouth and finally let go. He was softening, his body deflating, relaxing and you took it as the job well done. Once fixing his underwear and sweats, you climbed back onto the bed and dropped next to him, taking in the sight of his flushed face and disheveled hair. He looked angelic, with teary eyes and parted, swollen lips, glistening from saliva. You committed the picture to memory.

“Good?” You asked, though the answer was obvious from the way he looked.

“Heavenly,” he panted out and turned his head towards you. He watched as you reached up to the corner of your lips, thumb wiping off the lone drop of cum that lingered there and he grabbed you gently, pulling it to his own mouth. You chuckled when he sucked on your digit, his warm tongue circling it precisely as his mouth enveloped it whole.

“Nasty,” you teased and leaned in to kiss his forehead.

“Look who’s talking,” he played back, his words muffled over your finger before he finally let go of your hand. A string of saliva stretched from the tip of it and to his mouth but he licked it off like a kitten. “Thank you, mochi.”

“You’re welcome,” you offered him a smile and got off the bed, heading towards the bathroom. “You’re cleaning for a month by the way!”

He whined and you laughed.

taglist: @kibananya @r0ckst4rjk @rixo-19 @soraya-daydreams@hyun0200 @ilykii @roscpctals99 @mushkasstuff @siimp4youu @juicedcherry @themoreeviltwin @stevenknightmarc @ms5m1th @local-mr-frog @minimorale @lansy-4 @dancer545 @lordbugs @tojislittleprincesss

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whoskimii · 4 months ago

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You asked for nsfw requests, and therefore I happily oblige (I'm a whore for Kento)

Kento spanking and fucking his wife good in front of a mirror, forcing her to look herself or else🫢

yummy yummy yummy :3

⋆౨ৎ˚ notes > kento x you. rough sex! you tease him and he gets pissed off hehe <3 tell me if i missed anything!! ^^ ౨ৎ warning : you may have butterflies in your belly while reading this!! 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

it was your anniversary today. and you decided to go to a high-end restaurant with your husband. kento planned everything, as usual.

you've been together for four years now, married for two. kento was the perfect husband. whenever he came home from work, all tired and sleepy, he would ask you if you wanted a back massage. he just was the perfect man. you've known it from the beginning.

even your family liked him. they've been saying how he was the perfect man for you. and they couldn't be more right.

the little date went well. everything was perfect. but you felt like teasing him. every time you teased him, he'd go all bossy and pissed off. and that's precisely what you wanted tonight. of course you loved how gentle and tender he was. but for your anniversary, you wanted to get dicked down. and dicked down good.

so what better way to tease him than to flirt with the waiter ? and it worked. of course it did.

at first, it was innocent. you just blinked your pretty eyes at him a few times, gave him little smiles. that didn't go unnoticed, by both your husband and that waiter. the waiter seemed flustered and your husband was definitely starting to get pissed off. but he contained it.

then, it grew obvious. you crossed your legs and even went as far as rubbing your thighs together suggestively as you stared at the waiter. kento didn't intervene.

that's maybe why you found yourself on the bed, your back covered by your husband's chest. your face was buried in the pillow, drool staining it as kento's cock slid in and out of your twitchy little hole over and over again.

you pissed him off so much that he became rough. he was usually never rough with you. he grabbed your hair and tugged on it, forcing you to stare at yourself in the mirror. "watch. yourself. i won't say it twice." he whispered in your ear threateningly. "like seeing yourself like that ? getting fucked like the cheap little slut you are. good for nothing except taking dick." you whined softly, sloppy pussy clenching around his cock. "yeah, you like that. i can tell by the way she's clenching around me."

you gasped as his palm suddenly made contact with your ass. he spanked you roughly, causing you to cry out softly. "ken..." you mumbled. your jaw went slack as he responded with a harsh thrust. you watched yourself get literally used with hazy, unfocused eyes. "ken, s'too much..." you gasped for the second time as he spanked you again, harder than last time. "suck it up, slut. you asked for it. take it." you were about to bury your face in the pillow again but he gripped your jaw before you could. "i can't— ken !" you moaned as the tip of his cock bullied your sweet spot, hitting it harshly.

your eyes rolled back as you drooled, jaw slack. he chuckled breathlessly as he watched you through the mirror. "look at yourself," he clicked his tongue. "going all dumb on my cock. instead of the waiter's, huh ? how ironic, since you were almost begging him to fuck you. i could see it in your eyes."

you shook your head weakly, gripping the sheets. "was jus'... jus' teasing you, ken..." you managed to babble, although with difficulty. "yeah ? just teasing me, huh ? i can't believe how much of a slut you are. and here i thought i married an innocent little woman. you just wanted me to fuck you, mhm ? is that it, honey ?" you nodded vigorously, arching your back to get the tip of his cock to graze against your sweet spot.

he shook his head, almost disappointed, before grabbing your hips and fucking you with more energy. you moaned and buried your face in the pillow, fucking yourself back on his cock. "ken, m'gonna come... s'too good..." you babbled. he only hummed and continued thrusting into you as if you only were a little hole for him to fuck.

your orgasm washed over you as your eyes rolled back. you moaned loudly, eyebrows furrowing in pleasure. your pussy pulsated around him like crazy, which prompted him to spill himself inside you.

after coming down from his high, your husband placed a kiss on your back and gently pulled out. "come on," he murmured. he carefully picked up your fragile, trembling body and walked to the bathroom. "let's clean up."

well, you indeed got dicked down. and dicked down good.

being a whore for kento is a canon event i fear :3

⋆˚࿔ kimi 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

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sethsclearwater · 7 months ago

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okay hear me out - so i just learned on tiktok that apparently women get super easily attached to men (or women lol) who make them orgasm and i immediately thought of poly!paulxreaderxembry where paul is OBSESSED with making reader cum all the time and makes a random (unrelated) joke about her being super attached to him and embry is just rolling his eyes and telling him duh ofc she is - you're fucking with her hormones all the time by making her cum so often and paul is just DUMBFOUNDED at the fact that the main reason reader is so attached to him is because he literally just makes her cum multiple times a day.

embry is definitely one of the smarter ones of the group😭

...

"princess," paul started with a soft laugh, "you can come over here y'know," he teased when he saw your figure in the door frame of your shared apartment's living room.

your cheeks were immediately heating up to a bright red at his comment but you were nonetheless over the moon that he'd proactively offered to let you sit with him so you were quickly stepping over to sit down in his lap.

your other imprinter also let out a breathy laugh at the two of your's interaction. paul helped you sit situated so you were curled up in his lap but your legs could be outstretched enough for your feet to land in embry's lap, "so needy sometimes," paul teased, both boys laughing when you immediately buried your face in the crook of his neck in a weak attempt to hide your embarrassment over the whole ordeal.

"obviously she's needy," embry rolled his eyes despite the fact that you couldn't see it, a small smile on his face gave away he was just teasing you and paul, "have you seen how often you make her cum? you're fucking with her hormones doing that all the time," he added with a laugh.

you lifted your head from paul's shoulder at that, both you and paul wearing equally confused expressions as you looked at each other and then over to embry for some kind of additional explanation.

"every time you make her cum you release an insane amount of oxytocin and dopamine in her brain," embry explained, looking a little disturbed that neither you nor paul had any clue what the hell he was talking about. when embry saw that you two were still silently trying to process what he was explaining, he added, "those two make her feel attached to you which is why she wants to be around you all the time."

paul blinked twice, opening his mouth to respond to embry but nothing seemed to come out so he turned his attention over to you, "so what i'm hearing is embry needs to make you cum more often," he started, all three of you letting out loud laughs at paul's comment.

although paul definitely was a bit more obsessed with making you cum multiple times a day than his counterpart, embry was definitely not lacking in the releasing-your-feel-good-hormones department.

"i can't believe you didn't know that," embry said with a laugh, rolling his eyes as he gently rubbed your foot with one hand while reaching for the remote with his other so the three of you could get something on to watch before bed.

paul seemed content with his newfound realization, just settled for pressing his lips to the crown of your head, squeezing your hip playfully which had you giggling again as you got cuddled up with the two boys for a movie night.

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vialovesyou · 11 months ago

Text

𝗯𝗶𝗿𝘁𝗵𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗻𝗲𝗿 𝗗𝗥𝗘𝗪 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗥𝗞𝗘𝗬

don't cry, don't cry, don't cry. y/n told herself, blinking her eyes as she cast her gaze away from the table. drew and odessa were beside her, blatantly flirting. it was the little comments and the hand on his shoulder and y/n wasn't sure she could keep doing it.

madelyn noticed, anger bubbling inside her stomach as she stood up. " i'm going to the toilet, y/n/n, you coming with ? " she asked, y/n immediately nodding as she stood up. drew just smiled at the girl, before turning back to his conversation with the curly haired girl.

madelyn took y/n's hand in her own as they walked to the bathrooms, noticing the girls breathing speed up. apparently madelyn wasn't the only one who noticed what drew was doing.

" yo, drew " jd murmured, as odessa went up to the bar to order a drink. drew hummed in reply, turning to jd as he sipped on his drink.

" what are you playing at ? " chase questioned bluntly.

" what? what do you mean ?" questioned drew, his eyesbrows drawn together.

" you invited odessa to y/n's birthday dinner, you've been flirting with her all night and ignoring your girlfriend, plus you let her walk out of here crying " chase told him.

" y/n, y/n said she was fine with dessa coming, and what? " drew tried to reason, but once he saw the looks everyone was giving him he mumbled.

" because she didn't want to make you feel bad!"austin exclaimed, louder than he intended causing everyone's eyes to widen.

"shit" drew pushed away from the table before making his way to the bathroom.

" fuck me " y/n exhaled, coming into the bathroom. madelyn let go off the girls hand, watching as she tilted her head back and began fanning her eyes in an attempt not to cry.

" he's an idiot" madelyn huffed, nostrils flaring in anger at how disrespectful drew was being. y/n lowered her head, looking in the mirror infront of her as she took in a deep breath.

" she's a lovely girl but-" y/n cut herself off, immediately beggining to fan her eyes again. "shit, why do i keep crying" she groaned in frustration as tears began falling down her face. madelyn immediately wrapped her arms around y/n, not caring about the makeup that was going to inevitably stain her white top as y/n put her head in the crook of madelyn's neck.

y/n pulled away as her phone was going crazy, so she glanced at, kissing her teeth as she saw it was drew.

drew💌

baby, please come out

i'm sorry

i didn't realise

i'm an idiot

please, y/n

i love you

i'm outside the door, come

out please

come speak to me

" do you want to speak to him? we can go out the back?" madelyn asked in a hushed whisper so drew couldn't hear. y/n laughed lightly at this, but still shook her head. " you sure?" madelyn asked, completely ready to bolt out the back door. y/n nodded, causing madelyn to pull a beauty blender from her purse and tap it under y/n's eyes in an attempt to fix the tear stains.

" i'm sure she's a lovely girl but fuck me if she keeps touching him her face is going to end up in the spaghetti" y/n spoke, before her and madelyn fell into fit's of giggles. " there's the y/n i know" madelyn grinned, putting the beauty blender back into her purse.

" good as knew " madelyn smiled, looking into the mirror at y/n who fixed her hair glancing at madelyn in the mirror. " did i ever tell you how much i love you, maddie?" y/n asked, leaning her head on the taller girl's shoulders.

" once or twice " madelyn hummed, before the two began laughing again.

drew, who was on the other side of the door couldn't decide if the laughing was a good thing or if this was y/n's physcotic break. he tapped his foot anxiously, looking back at his table of friends who were all speaking with solemn looks on their faces. drew could tell they were talking about him, but they all quickly shut up when odessa returned to the table.

" wish me luck " y/n exhaled, before making her way out the bathroom her heels tapping against the marble floor. drew pushed off the wall he was leaning on when y/n came out the bathroom, immediately wrapping his arms around her.

" i'm so sorry, sweetheart. we can leave right now, just me and you and go anywhere " he spoke, his thumb rubbing circles onto her exposed shoulder. y/n had her head on his chest before she pulled away, looking up at him.

" let me say what i have to say, okay?" she spoke softly, toying with her ring anxiously causing drew to furrow his brows as he nodded.

" look, drew. i'm not trying to be the selfish, controlling girlfriend but it's like ever since you filmed hellraiser. she's everywhere. you talk about her, she's blowing up your phone i mean their's a picture of you and her in our livingroom for crying out loud " y/n's voice unintentionally raised, practically shouting the last few words causing the restraunt to fall silent. all eyes were on them, as drew blinked slowly.

"oh, shit " y/n muttured, shifting on her feet as everyone was blatantly staring at the couple. odessa, who clearly heard their conversation stormed off causing drew to shout her name.

y/n raised her brow, he was proving her point. she could see the internal battle within drew, causing her to sigh loudly. " just go " she mumbled, gesturing to the door odessa just stormed out off.

" are you sure?" he asked. and even though every single part of y/n wanted him to stay, she nodded. and with that, he was gone.

#drewstarkey #drew starkey angst #drew starkey fluff #outerbanks #obx #rafe cameron #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron smut

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villain-enthusiast · 9 months ago

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Hi Hello!! Would you please continue the snippet of villain finding hero dying? A lot of whump and caretaking would be great! (By the way.. just wanted to say this...I love your work!!)

so glad u enjoyed! hope this is also to your liking ☺️

part one

The hero came to with a start.

They shifted, groaning as their stiff muscles and joints ached. But they noticed that their body was comfortable, sinking into a soft mattress and swaddled in thick blankets—

Wait, what?

They blinked several times as fragmented memories flashed through their head, The blinding pain of the stab wound. Their broken comms. Blood, too much blood. They were going to die without help…

The villain. The villain finding them in the alleyway, gathering them up in their arms—

“You’re awake.”

The hero jolted, head whipping to the bedside, where the villain had apparently stood up from the chair behind them.

How long had they been waiting there?

They moved to prop themselves up, but the villain’s hands were immediately on their shoulders, gently urging them back down onto the stupidly comfortable bed.

“Don’t move too much. You’ll break the stitches,” the villain warned. They pulled the blanket covering the hero’s torso away to examine the bandages wrapped around their side.

It was then the hero realized that they had been scrubbed clean and given a new pair of sweatpants, every cut and scratch from their recent altercation carefully dressed.

Their eyes met the villain’s in silent questioning.

You did all this for me?

“I swear I didn’t look,” the villain blurted suddenly. “When I was bathing and changing you. I didn’t—.” They cut themselves off awkwardly, cheeks a little pink.

Oh, that’s not… Despite themselves, the hero smiled, or what they could attempt as a smile. Their jaw was incredibly sore from being socked twice in one day.

They opened their mouth to speak, to tell the villain that it was fine and that what they really meant was thank you—

The villain shushed them. “You have some bruising on your neck. It’ll hurt to talk. You should just rest.”

The hero scowled at them. “I—,” they attempted, and immediately regretted their choice as their swollen throat flared up.

The villain gave them a "told you so" look, and the hero leveled another glare at them.

It suddenly occurred to the hero how helpless they were. Can't move, can't speak. If the villain wanted to kill them, now would be the chance. Luring them into a false sense of security, giving them one last taste of comfort before—

“I just saved your fucking life. Stop looking at me like that.”

The hero frowned. Like what? they mouthed.

“Like you think I’m gonna kill you or something. I can be a half-decent person sometimes, y’know," the villain said. Their expression softened. “I’m not a monster.”

The villain's gaze flickered with something the hero couldn't quite place as they watched each other in comfortable silence. It was an understanding, in that moment, that the villain was not going to kill them, and that they had meant everything they said and more.

I couldn’t just leave you to die in that alleyway.

The villain sighed and turned to leave the room. Panic shot through the hero—they needed to say something to the villain, damn their throat—and before they could think twice about it, they reached out and took the villain’s hand in their own. Rough calluses from what was likely decades of training scraped against their palm.

The villain stared at them, but they didn’t pull away. Their fingers wrapped gently around the hero’s, cautious. Expectant.

“Thank you,” the hero croaked, “for saving me.”

The villain was silent for several heartbeats, watching the hero with those dark—so beautifully dark—eyes.

They took a breath, as if readying themselves for whatever they were going to say. “You mean too much to me," they finally said, voice low. "I'm not ready to let you go." Their hand lingered on the hero's, as if to seal their statement, to make a promise and keep it.

Then they released their hold, and the hero wished they could tell them to stay—that they wanted them to stay—but the villain was already closing the door behind them, and fatigue overtook them before they could process anything else.

When the hero awoke the next morning, the villain was nowhere to be found. But in the chair by their bedside, they found a fresh set of clothes, a cup of water, and a note:

Be back soon. - Villain

And though their jaw still ached, the hero smiled, fully and wholly.

#hero #villain #villain and hero #hero and villain #villain/hero #hero/villain #hero x villain #villain x hero #putting those tags bc how could i not #enemies to lovers #injured hero #hurt/comfort #my writing #writing snippet #villain-enthusiast #ask #continuation #working with less dialogue is honestly so interesting #really makes u focus on mood and description

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ggidolsmuts · 2 months ago

Text

Cheeky Icy Thong - STAYC Sieun

"Hi oppa!" Sieun's boyfriend opens the door at the welcome voice.

"Hey Sieun, come in!" The ever lovable girlfriend bounces through the door and kisses him.

"Did you miss me?"

"Of course!"

"I missed you too," she says, hugging him tightly.

"Mmhmm, should we go somewhere for dinner?"

"No, how about we just stay in and order? I just want to relax with oppa," Sieun says pointedly. He blinks once, twice, three times.

"Oh, um, sure, yeah."

Sieun lies in bed as she hears the rustle of plastic bags, her boyfriend picking up the delivered food at the door. Her head is lightly buzzing from her orgasm, but an annoying part of her wanted more—it was less "satisfying" and more "satiating". He kept asking her if she was feeling good, if she liked it. But he was asking too much! She did like it and she did cum, but Sieun couldn't bring herself to tell him that she wasn't "feeling" it, wasn't getting into it. Everything else about him was great, if she could just get him to be more assertive...

"Oppa, how do you feel when we do it?"

"Hmm? I like it, it feels good! You don't?" He suddenly looks at her, concerned.

"No, I do, I just think that we could have a more fun time." She grabs his hand, bringing it to her bare thigh. "Don't worry so much about me, you should do what you want," Sieun adds. She fully expected him to run his hand up her thigh, maybe go around to grab her ass and pull her closer, but no.

"Mm really? Okay, I just want to make sure you feel good." His hand almost insultingly goes to grab her hand, turning what Sieun wanted to be an intimate, maybe even passionate, moment into a sweet one.

"Sure oppa." Sieun would have to do more—part of that is her fault, she figures. She usually liked to be treated as a princess, and her boyfriend ticked that box well, ever thoughtful and loving to her. However, there is a small yet almost overpowering part of her that wanted the opposite, a little rebellious streak, the petulant part of being a princess—she wanted to see what he could do. If only she could make him understand that...

Somehow.

"Hi oppa!" Sieun lets herself in this time, bouncing into his apartment again.

"Oh, hey Sieun!" He looks up briefly, but only briefly before he returns to his screen.

"Ah it's so hot today," she says pointedly—rather than her usual tops Sieun is wearing a spaghetti top, showing lots of skin and a deep neckline. If only the idiot cared to look closely.

"Really? Even with that top?" *Damn it that's not the point!* "Make sure you use plenty of sunscreen!" Argh! Now Sieun's properly annoyed, showing this much skin only to have the wrong response from him, on top of now having to worry about her skincare!

"Let's just watch a movie," Sieun sighs, plopping herself down on the couch. A second opportunity reveals itself as the two of them snuggle on the sofa. Surreptitiously Sieun slips one of the straps off her shoulder before pulling her boyfriend's hand around her, making sure he notices the lack of a strap.

"Hm?" Sieun spies him looking at her out of the corner of her eye, and the hand over her bare shoulder twitches. And he slips his hand off her shoulder to... pull her strap up again! Doofus! Sieun tries again a little later, brushing her hair and accidentally slipping her strap off again. He feels her bare shoulder again, and this time he is slower, his hand gently gripping her shoulder before languidly pulling it up.

"Sieun?"

"Yes?"

"Do you umm, want to stay the night?" Sieun is partially satisfied—it's his way of asking her for sex, but she wishes he was more assertive, to tell her she should stay, that he wants her to stay. But no, it's always what Sieun wants to do that comes first. "That is, if you have no schedules tomorrow?"

"No, I can stay the night."

"Okay, great." Sieun stays seated, waiting for him to make a move. Yet over the next 15 minutes all that happens is Sieun catching him looking at her out of the side of her eyes. She'd have to be the one to move things forward.

"I'm bored, should we just go to bed?" He could not move any faster.

"Yes, same, let's go." Sieun is pleasantly surprised as he takes her by the hand and leads her to the bedroom. The post-coitus clarity settles in for Sieun as he gets up to dispose of the condom—he was more eager, more forward, so that's progress. But he was still very mindful of what she wanted, of how she would want things done, when really what Sieun wanted was to be done, and done hard. She would have to work on it more.

"Oppa, you've seen my performances right?" she asks him, snuggling against his chest.

"Yeah."

"What type of hairstyles do you like on me?"

"You look good in everything, so just whatever you have at the time."

"But you must have a favorite right? Orange hair, black hair, which do you prefer?"

"I guess black?"

"Okay, and hairstyle?"

"I dunno, you look good in everything," he reiterates.

"Would you want to see me in something different? Anything you would find sexy?"

"Maybe? I think you pull any look off, so it'll be fun to see something different." Sieun nods thoughtfully, already thinking about potential hairstyles. Her comeback was coming up, maybe she could really shock him out of his system.

"Okay, well, I have my comeback soon, so I won't be able to see you for a while."

"Really? I'll miss you! Make sure you're eating properly and don't get hurt okay?" He hugs her tightly. He's such a lovable sap! She just needs to make him a lovable sap some of the time, not all of the time.

"Hi oppa, did you miss me!"

"Si-Sieun?" You scarcely recognize the girlfriend you bid goodbye to weeks ago. "Why are you dressed like that?" In addition to her spaghetti top and an extremely short skirt, she is wearing her hair completely different—gone are the days of simple long hair with her bangs parted, Sieun has bangs, her hair is black, and her hair is done up in pigtails!

"We just finished the last touches on the MV and filming, so I thought I'd come visit you, give you a sneak peek of the concept!"

"Oh okay... It's cute? I think?"

"Wait really? That's not what we were going for though." Sieun seems slightly put off.

"Oh, what was it supposed to be?"

"It's supposed to be cheeky, a little naughty, you know?" Sieun bites her lower lip for emphasis, and you are stunned for a second. With her new look it feels like you are seeing a whole new side of Sieun. You squirm a little on the spot, trying to quell your desires quickly.

"Sure. Do you want something to drink?"

"Whatever you want, I just want to spend some time with you. We should watch a movie!"

"Aww, did my Sieun miss me?"

"What, did you not?" Sieun pouts, firmly pressing herself to you, and you have to back your hips away, lest she feels you growing.

"Of course! Okay let me go get something, you can go choose a movie."

Sieun settles in on the couch, her mind working quickly—his response was more muted than expected, but he was definitely hiding more from her. She saw his eyes widen when he took her in, felt him tense when she hugged him, and the way he backed his hips away from her when she pressed close—she just needed to do a little more! She flips through the movies and chooses one that she knows has a raunchier and more intense scene in the middle.

"Oh what's this one about?"

"I dunno, it sounded interesting, let's just watch it." They're sitting close together, but not nearly close enough for Sieun's liking. She pushes herself right next to him, almost sitting in his lap, and she draws his arm around her waist, making sure it "drops" slightly as she wiggles her butt to get comfortable, right on the hem of her skirt. One arm slips between his arm, and Sieun presses her modest chest against his arm, all to cuddle him more, to tempt him further.

As the movie goes on and gets to the passionate "good" parts, Sieun pushes herself more on him, making sure he's aware that she's right there, ready to do what's on the screen. He looks at her, breathing deeply.

"Sieun, do you want to stay the night?" The normal Sieun would say yes—after a while without seeing him, she wants it just as bad as he does. That's exactly why Sieun knows what to say to get him to crack.

"No, I can't, I have something tomorrow." She tries to get up, and he pulls her back, making her fall against him. He catches her, and Sieun smiles at his surprise when his hand finds itself under her skirt, touching bare skin already.

"Y-You didn't wear underwear?" he asks hoarsely, throat suddenly very dry. Reflexively he squeezes her cheek, feeling the juiciness of Sieun's ass. Just a little more...

"Even better, I did." Sieun cheekily replies, quickly getting up and pressing her skirt down, leaving him open-mouthed and dumbfounded while he tries to comprehend her words. "I'm heading out," she says airily, her hand briefly lifting her skirt as a tease.

"Fuck..." you mutter under your breath. You caught the briefest of glimpses as her hand flicked her skirt up—Sieun's wearing underwear indeed, except it's a small black thong, her pale cheeks tantalizing in the dim light. You had to feel her again! The sight of your sweet and lovable Sieun looking like the perfect representation of a fuckdoll is rewiring your brain in real time. You hug her from behind tightly, and as you cross your arms around her midriff you feel something... hard?

"W-What's this?" he asks her, breath hot and heavy in her ear. The way he grabs her has Sieun in a tizzy, and she has to take a deep breath to swallow a moan—she can feel his desire very tangibly against her back. "Sieun, what's this?" he repeats.

"A piercing, I decided to get one for the comeback, do you like it?" Sieun forces herself away from him, twirling around and slightly pulling her top up to reveal the little silver stud on her bellybutton. She watches his eyes trail from her face and down her body, settling on her flat midriff. The gaze then drops a little lower, and then it goes back to Sieun's face. Something is different.

"Ah!" He grabs her by the wrist this time, and he's not leading her to the bedroom, he's taking her there. Sieun lands on the bed, and he's on top of her immediately. His hands are on her shoulders, his weight pressing her down, but then... nothing?

"Fuck Sieun, I'm sorry." Your hands tremble as you force yourself to keep them only on her shoulders, resisting the urge to tear her outfit apart. Your words are labored, as if you've almost forgotten how to talk. "I need you." Your hips press down on her almost involuntarily, as if indicating what exactly you needed to do.

Sieun whines when you do so, and you could feel why too—she's fucking soaked. You breathe even more deeply into her neck. "Please stay the night."

Sieun almost forgets about the plan when she hears him speak. He took her to the bedroom, topped her like a hungry beast and then told her he needed her. He's so close to breaking, yet he restrains himself, begging her to say yes, to allow him to have her. Seeing and feeling wanted is sending a surge of power straight between her legs, and she twitches, almost throwing everything away to wrap her legs around him. She settles for wrapping her arms around his head, running a hand teasingly through his hair.

"No." His breath hitches, puffing against her skin. Sieun licks her lips, kisses his neck, and says the magic words.

"Make me stay."

In an instant he pulls her top down, palming and grabbing at her chest hungrily. Sieun feels his hand dance across her thigh briefly before reeling and throwing her head back—he's shoved two fingers unceremoniously into her, and yet she's wet enough to take him with no trouble.

"Fuck!" he growls into her ear, immediately withdrawing his digits to remove his shorts. Brazenly he lifts her skirt, and Sieun is momentarily embarrassed at her own state—her top is rolled down, her skirt is flipped up, scrunched around her waist, and her small black thong pulled to the side is doing nothing to "protect" her from him right now. He looks nothing like his usual loving herself—he eyes her up and down, his gaze dark and hungry, watching her every expression as he twists and curls inside her, feeling just how wet she is for him. He removes his fingers, licking them ravenously: Sieun tasted ready, smelled ready. Sieun definitely looked ready too—nothing like her usual prim and loveable self either, no; she looks cheap, wanton, easy. In the process of trying to break her boyfriend down, Sieun's breaking down in the very same way, letting her desires take over.

An unholy mix of grunt and moan escape both of them as he pushes himself in, and Sieun finds her hips being slammed and bruised almost immediately—they don't even register that he's doing her raw, with no condom, they just know that it feels fucking amazing!

"Oh my god fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!" Sieun's limbs are wrapped around him tightly, so much so that he's bouncing them off the bed, wildly thrusting and threatening to fuck the clinging Sieun into pieces. A loud scream pierces his eardrums, and he watches her cum, expression slack, little bellybutton stud quivering in bliss. He flips her around and pulls her ass up, and with Sieun's cry muffled by the pillow he fucks her from behind, a hand squeezing her pale cheeks, contrasted beautifully against the thong that's still on—she hasn't even lost a piece of clothing yet!

Sieun's in absolute ecstasy, the pounding she's getting far beyond what she thought he was capable of. He's getting so deep into her that she can't think straight, the sound of his body smashing into hers making her head ring. He has a hand on her tummy, finger playing with her piercing as he grabs her and goes even harder. She has to bite the pillow, suppressing the base sounds being ripped from her throat.

"Mmmf... Gah!" He uses both hands to pull on her pigtails, a jolt of pain shooting straight through her that becomes pure pleasure on the next thrust.

"So fucking naughty," he snarls, "I want to hear you cum." Me, naughty? She thinks to herself. Maybe she should be naughty more often, especially if this is the result.

"Y-Your naughty girl is going to cum, keep fucking your cheeky naughty girl!" He pulls harder on her hair, and they seem to yank Sieun's eyes to the back of her head, making her clench erratically around him once more. This time he cums with her, instantly firing a thick load deep into her womb. Sieun can barely manage a whimper as her orgasm overwhelms her, her senses firing all at once as she feels every hot shot of cum go straight to her head. She feels him still half-hard, still trying to fuck her, to push his cum deeper into her, until finally he gives up, collapsing the two of them into a pile of limbs.

"S-Sieun, fuck, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry..." you rasp in her ear a little later. "What did we do? We've never done it without a condom! What did I do, oh my god!"

"You did amazing," she says hoarsely, her voice gone from her screaming earlier. "That was exactly what I wanted."

"W-What? I came in you, that's what you wanted?"

"Well, I didn't plan on that, but I can handle it." Sieun blushes, but continues on, a finger dipping and scooping the load oozing out of her. "I wanted you to do what you want to do, and not to think about me."

"What? Why? I could've hurt you, wait did I hurt you—" she shushes you with a finger.

"No, it felt so good. Because," Sieun brings your hand between her legs, making you feel your handiwork—creamy and wet. "Because it makes me feel good when you feel good, it turns me on seeing you eye me like a piece of meat. I don't just want to always feel loved, I want to feel needed."

"I always need you," you murmur, and Sieun squirms lower, trying to have your fingers in her. You oblige, pushing your cum back back into her and showing her how needed she is.

"K-Keep saying it!" she gasps, her eyes glassy with desire.

"I need you all the time, and if you're going to tease me like that I don't know what I'll do to you." You line Sieun's walls with cum, smearing your thick white paint all over her with curling fingers.

"Do whatever you want, it feels so good when you do it—" Her eyes flutter shut and she throws her head back, a choked moan leaving her throat as she quickly cums again. She breaks into a smile when she comes down. "I guess I'll have to stay the night, I can barely feel my legs." You help her to the bathroom, and the two of you clean up before cuddling in bed, exhausted from the short but intense session.

Sieun wakes up the next morning, a sore but satisfying buzz running through her body. A moment later she realizes what the satisfying buzz is—his mouth on her pussy, humming away like a happy eater.

"Oppa?" He doesn't hear her, her thighs squeezed involuntarily around his head deafening him. But he realizes she's awake, and with two hands on her cheeks he lifts her hips, giving him a better angle to eat her out from. "Wait, mmm! Ah!" Sieun has no say in the matter, her back arching, a morning stretch of the best kind. To Sieun's delightful dismay she realizes something—him knowing how to pleasure her and being able to do it when she asks for it is well and fine, but him knowing how to pleasure her and able to do it when he wanted to is a thoroughly lethal combination. The type of combination that could keep Sieun bedridden, pleasure-stricken and stuck in the throes of ecstasy like she is right now, his fingers rubbing her g-spot and his tongue doing god-knows-what to her clit. "Fuck, I can't, mmm!"

Sieun goes rigid, trembling in your hands. Her thighs tighten their hold on your head, and you tighten your squeeze on her cheeks, squeezing and delighting in the juice her pink well produces. You let her land back on the bed and get back to eye level with her.

"I needed to taste you." Sieun blushes, cheeks glowing from her orgasm. "I need to do more with you, stay here." Sieun remains on the bed, obedient but also thrilled at what you have planned. She's surprised, if not a little disappointed, when you come back with only a cup of ice water in hand.

"Want some?"

"Sure." Sieun takes a gulp, letting out a refreshing sigh. "What did you want to do more with me?" She had to know.

"Turn around, I want to give you a massage."

"Eh? What?" You do not brook any questioning, removing her nightdress and flipping her on her back. Your hands are on her shoulders, firmly pushing her down on the bed. "I don't need—"

"But I do." Your tone is firm, letting Sieun know that you would not have it any other way—from the way you're pushing down on her, she wouldn't be able to do anything anyways... and it's fucking hot. So Sieun let's you do it, your hands working on her nicely.

"I never knew you could do massages." Sieun manages between sighs, feeling your hands work on her shoulder blades and down her back. She really didn't mind it at all after the stress preparing for a comeback.

"You never asked me to."

"I'll be asking for it from now on then."

"I'll be giving it to you before you ask." The double-entendre is not lost on Sieun, and she wiggles her hips. You removes your hands from her, and Sieun's almost anticipating you to take her right there, but you don't. "I love you," you whisper into the air.

Before Sieun could respond she yelps, feeling something very cold right in the middle of her back! "Oppa!"

"Let me do this." You hold the ice cube on the middle of her back, rotating it in circles on her pale skin—not enough to be painful, but just enough for goosebumps to rise as Sieun wiggles to try and get away from it. You bring it up to the back of her neck, and Sieun gasps, reacting to the icy chill with a jerk of her head. You continue rubbing the ice cube over her back, bringing it down to her lower back and letting it run across her toned cheeks, before teasing the inside of her thighs. By now the cube has mostly melted from her body heat, and you're just fondling her with your cold hand, covering her in a sheen of moisture.

"Turn around." Sieun flips over obediently, her mouth slightly open, reeling from the new sensations. She never thought you would be interested in something like this, but how could she have known? Like with massages, she had never asked!

"It's a little too cold."

"I'll warm you up." You take a fresh cube, placing it at her neck and making her twitch once more. You salve it with a warm breath and a kiss, and Sieun moans.

"Ohhh... That's nice, that's really nice." You make note of it and move lower, eyeing Sieun as you bring the ice cube down to her tits. She bites her lower lip in anticipation, but even that's not enough to prepare her for the cold touching her nipples, her whimper soft and delicate. You bring your lips to them, breathing warm air on her ends, turning their cold-induced stiffness into arousal-tipped points. Then you move down to her stud, and touch the ice cube to it.

"Hnngh!" Her flat tummy shivers cutely, and you place your mouth over her little button, kissing it warmly and using your tongue to nudge it around. It drives Sieun up the wall—she's so sensitive from the cold, and the unexpected playing around with her piercing amplifies everything, and she's not sure how much more teasing she can take!

"Why did you get the piercing?" you ask her, moving the ice cube to her thighs and between her legs, threatening. Sieun spreads her legs, more to get away from the cold than anything, but still very enticing.

"I thought you might find it hot, that maybe you'll think of me as something more than lovable."

"Is that why you changed the way you dress, your hairstyle, your thong?" The last word is like a whip to Sieun as you bring the last remaining piece of ice near her pussy, and it melts in your hands, joining the puddle of slick leaking from her wet heat.

"Ohh yes, yes yes yes!" Sieun babbles a response as you replace the cold with your warm breath, eating her out again. You plunge your fingers into her and Sieun reels from the penetration, using her hand to stifle a loud moan. The enhanced sensitivity from the cold is wrecking her self-control, your warm fingers curling deep in her causing her to heat up to her boiling point. "D-Don't stop— No wait, don't, stop!" Your tongue flicks on her clit incessantly, and Sieun finds your head, pushing it hard against her pussy as she cums.

"Ah no, cum— hnnnnngh!" Sieun groans as satisfying relief washes through her, her body instantly hot with pleasure. She squirts all over your face, limbs rigid and jerking as her muscles seize up. After she's done cumming her brains out Sieun lays there, her skin shining with the melted ice, her thighs a combination of slick and water as you finally remove yourself from her.

"Haah!" She whimpers as something huge enters her too-tight tunnel instead. "Oppa!"

"I need you right now! Isn't this what you wanted?" you growl in her ear, and Sieun can only whine and nod. She sees your face covered in her juices and covers her own face in embarrassment, but you pull them away. "You wanted me to need you, need my sexy fuckdoll that I can do whatever I want with?" If last night was wild and feral with few words, today morning is intense and directed, giving Sieun maximum pleasure by hitting spots only you knew. You put one of her legs on your shoulder, keeping the other pinned with your hips—you're quite literally splitting her open.

"Oh fuck, that's deep!"

"You like me loving you, but you wanted me to lust after you? Doing things to you that you never thought to ask? So greedy." You suck on her earlobe, which you knew she liked.

"Nngh yes, it feels so good!"

"I'm not going to do it all the time, I don't want to break my cheeky fuckdoll." You grab her ass for emphasis.

"I won't break," Sieun challenges you, even as she has to bite her lip to stifle a moan. "Just bend— Mmm!" She can't hold it in as you push even deeper, widening the split.

"Doing all this, changing your whole image, when all you had to do was ask!" The fact that it was mainly for STAYC's comeback is lost on the two of you in the moment. "Such a bad influence on me Sieun."

"You're right, I've been so bad!" Sieun set out to break you down, to corrupt you, yet at this point who is corrupting who? "I wanted you to need me, to lose control!" The split is undone as Sieun places her other leg on your shoulder, letting you push both knees to her chest as Sieun is the one that starts losing control, her eyes rolling in her head once more as you dip deep into her.

"Well you did it last night, making me need to fuck you raw, making me need to cum in you." Sieun clenches around you at the thought of being creampied, but you wanted to hear her say it. "Looks like I'm doing you raw again already, should I do what I need to do?"

"Yes, do whatever you need to do, fill your fuckdoll up!" Sieun cries, on the edge herself. A few more punishing thrusts into her later you groan and explode, pumping her full of cum for the second time. Sieun pulls you in for a forceful kiss, nails digging into your hair and dragging across your neck as you moan into the liplock—Sieun's cumming too, milking you for all that you have.

"Oh god, it's so hot inside me..." Sieun wraps her legs around your hips, making sure you stay in her after. You watch her eyes flutter shut, lost in ecstasy, her tongue licks her lips, like she's savoring your thick load directly, thoroughly enjoying the rawness of everything. Then she opens her eyes, and she's back to being Sieun—the kiss you two share is back to being lovable and tender, feeling her smile against your lips and holding her close.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I feel so good."

"I'm glad." You two stay like that for a little longer, before you finally slip out and roll off her. "We should go to the pharmacy, get you something," you mutter, quickly getting Sieun wipes to clean up.

"Don't worry, I'll handle it, but I have to go soon." She pecks you on the lips and jumps in the bathroom, coming out shortly after looking like the Sieun you're more familiar with. But as you watch her put her outfit together again you felt a twitch, and had to say something.

"You better not show up with that outfit again." It was a warning and a promise.

"Why not? What's going to happen?" You stay silent at her smirk, debating if you should just jump her again. "Guess I'll find out next time." She pulls her top up slightly to show off her belly piercing once more, before turning around with a deliberate flourish.

"Cheeky. I need you against the door, now."

A/N: I've been down bad for Sieun in their latest comeback, she looks so good it's crazy. I had the idea of wanting to write one where the OC is seduced/corrupted, and Sieun's transformation was perfect for it. But as always it "fails" and she's falling along with him heh. Had the idea during their comeback but it's over already lol, rip took too long. Anyways thanks for reading!

#smut #stayc #sieun

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chosos-mascara · 4 months ago

Text

all my love, suguru

chapter 5

summary: after an unexpected night spent with your close friend, you find yourself pregnant, and unable to tell him so. will you be able to come to terms with this news, or will it destroy the delicate relationship you’d had left?

chapter warnings: mentions of declining mental health (suguru), general angst, secret pregnancy/child

masterlist

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30 months before

"I have something I wanted to talk to you about." You're watching him at his desk as you walk into his classroom, closing the door meekly behind you. The sickness coupled with this anxiety is overwhelming; exhausting. You're roughly ten weeks along, your first scan recently booked for two weeks time, all while Suguru is none the wiser to your current condition.

He's grading papers from a recent mock exam, and it's apparent he's much more interested in the stacks before him than you as his eyes barely rise, the red marker still between his fingers. You sigh. "Suguru, did you hear me?" He looks up from the reports, bags dark beneath his eyes. You pause in your actions as you mull over his expression. "Are you okay?" There's that concern you had for him that night, back again. You wonder if he realises that, too. Or perhaps you were only procrastinating by creating some sort of conversation, though it's better to open with something like this, isn't it?

"Sorry, what's up?" Suguru acts casual, but he can't deny that your visit is just adding to the mounds of stress he feels in this moment. He doesn't have the energy to pour into conversation, he can barely read these student's scrawny handwriting. "I was wondering if we could talk?" You begin to walk closer with some hesitance, stopping at his desk. He looks up at you, and finally puts that pen down.

"What about?" He's nervous. "Well, I just..." You trail off, your chest heavy. Your hands are shaking, even with one placed over the other. They're clammy, and god, you feel so sick. "That night, when we..." Again, you're not able to finish your sentence, instead averting your gaze to the wall and swallowing. "Listen," Suguru stands, and when you look back to him, you frown. "I don't think we should pursue anything."

You stand in silence for a few moments; he's completely missed the mark. Raising your hands, you shake your head, trying to gesture to him that this wasn't what you'd intended, but it's lost on him when he continues.

"It was a misjudgement, I didn't consider how this could impact our lives, and for that I apologise." You stare wide eyed. You couldn't tell him how yes, this really has impacted your life, because you realise now how wrong this would go. This truly was a secret you'd have to bring to the grave, because you're sure he'd never speak to you again either way.

"You're right, I'm sorry." It's weak, and all you manage to push out.

Suguru feels reams of guilt when he watches your head bow, hearing quiet, defeated words from your lips. He's lying to himself if he truly believes this is for the best, because no one makes him feel quite how you do.

He replays that memory most nights, wondering if he should have given you a chance - he didn't even let you get a word out before he was pushing you away. He spent years wishing he'd done something different, wondering if anything would change if only he'd had opportunity to speak to you again.

He thinks of that memory when he's walking to Yaga's office, opening the door to be met with you.

Suguru thinks he's finally lost it, because why, after two and a half years would you be here, sitting at Yaga's desk like you'd never really left? His hands are brought upward to rub into his eyes, and he blinks once, twice, squeezing them closed before finally focusing back upon your seated frame. You're definitely there, you're definitely real.

Suguru hadn't even noticed the child sat to your left until moments later, a small doll between her hands, her hair worn in a short ponytail. He doesn't linger over her presence for long though, because he's drawn back to you.

The door had clicked open moments ago and you had prepared yourself for Suguru's berating, though seconds tick by, and no words come. You're still sat in silence beside your daughter and opposite your old boss after a minute's pass, still an empty seat at your right. You know he's shocked by his hesitance to enter, but the suspense is only twisting the knife embedded into you upon his entry. In this limbo, you're left to ruminate on every doubt that had grown over the past few years, on every bad decision you've made leading up to now.

Finally, after a minute or so of deliberating, Suguru decides to discern the reason for this meeting, and uses his curiosity as encouragement to come and sit in that empty chair.

You've no alleviation from his stare even when he's seated. He's taking you in, the new you, the mature you, still contemplating his sanity as he wonders if you're just a fragment of his madness. There's still an internal struggle while he wonders why you're here, and what this could possibly have to do with him. Suguru does manage to voice a few words through his turmoil, ever downplaying his mental state with his relaxed tone.

"I thought you left jujutsu society?"

His voice still feels like honey in your ears, his presence beside you causing your skin to prickle with cold, goosebumps breaking the surface. Eyes that had been glued to Yaga's desk finally lift, and you turn your head to face him after all of this time. Brown eyes greet you, purple bags weighing the skin down. The glint of hope that Suguru could forgive you begins to ebb, your lips tightening.

"I did." Your answer rings true, at least. Your eyes falter when you can't take his gaze any longer, instead averting to sit at his lips, then shoulders. He looks the same as always, but his aura feels different. There's sombreness to him now, and you blame yourself for leaving.

"Should we begin?" Yaga clears his throat uncomfortably, and you're reminded of his presence. You nod with deep reluctance, removing your sight from the man that still holds a place in your heart. "Geto," Yaga begins, and you focus on your breaths. This is it, it's really happening. "You're being assigned a special case; a new student." He gestures toward your Keiko, and Suguru leans forward so he can look past you, his emotionless expression interrupted by disgust.

"She's a toddler?" His disapproval is thick. "Yaga, are you insane?" Suguru remembers the last person assigned to his care, and her untimely death. This was no world for a child, it was barely a world for him, either. Everyone seems to get on with their lives after witnessing tragedies, and he still doesn't understand how. He has never been left unscathed by the things he's seen, but he's sure to handle those massacres better than a child who would stand at his knee's height.

Yaga peers to you behind his glasses, and you can feel the luxury of your silence ending.

"She's at risk if she doesn't learn to harness her cursed energy." You speak, praying for his compliance. "I don't want her to get hurt, Suguru."

Suguru stares at your expression, looking up, and down as he processes your words among the many racing thoughts he houses. Who was this child to you, why would you care? But after all these years he's brewed upon his actions, paired with the fact he can stare into you and see nothing but kindness and care, his objection merges into something else.

He doesn't speak, but he doesn't have to, because you've already seen it on his face. He'll help.

"Thank you." Your words of gratitude are genuine, and they're spoken to him with care. It feels a bit like you're the only two people in the room, studying the other with a sense of longing. He swallows back the old feelings that are trying to push through, and turns to face Yaga once more.

Throughout this meeting Suguru glances to that girl, a question pushing the back of his mind. Who was she to you?

Keiko's in bed when he knocks. At first, you're spooked by the sound and your cursed energy is focused into your fist, though looking through the peephole eases your fears. Your flame dissipates, and you open, not sure what to expect from your night-time visitor.

"What're you doing here?" There's a small dip in your voice. "It's late." You try and mask your unease, though he's able to read you like a book.

"That evening, before you left - what were you going to tell me?"

When you look closer you realise Suguru's hair is loose, strays floating out from his bun, a redness at his ears from where he'd been toying with the lobes. It doesn't take you long to realise what he's referencing, and you open the door wider. You have to accept your fate, that it's now, or never. "Come, take a seat."

Those are words Suguru didn't want to hear. Since your meeting, he's been asking himself the same question, who is this child? And why should Suguru of all people be summoned to teach her, when he's sure Satoru would've not only volunteered himself, but been better at the job in every way?

Then he thought about her hair colour, and how he didn't get to catch her face. The timelines, the fact she's staying with you - the pregnancy test. He kicks himself for not questioning you at the time, and for dwelling over these surely disconnected details, until he thought to that afternoon, when he shut you down with haste. He thought about your body language, and how stupid he was to assume that's what you were going to suggest, how self centred he'd been the entire time.

He sits down quickly with his heart feeling about to leap out of his mouth, a warmth coddling his ears.

"A few weeks after we slept together, I realised I was late." You start from the beginning as you stand opposite him. You can't look at his face, arms crossed, you stare at his feet. "I wanted to tell you that evening, but you made it clear you didn't want anything else, and I got cold feet."

His anxiety fades, morphing into a feeling he can't quite place his finger on. It might be that in this moment, Suguru can truly say he's experiencing heartbreak, and the repercussions of his own actions. If he'd have just checked up on you, things would've gone so differently. "I have a child?" He speaks slowly, unsure of himself. It doesn't feel like it's sinking in, those words don't feel as if they are describing his own life.

"She's yours." Your confirmation sends prickles over his skin. Your things are still mostly in boxes, though there's a photo you've already set out beside the TV, one that you pick up and hand to him. It's you and Keiko, taken on her 2nd birthday. You'd had to celebrate alone, but you decorate anyway, a big '2' balloon within the background. She's smiling, her baby teeth showing while cuddled into your side. It'd taken a while to get a good photo with her, standing your phone on the couch and using the timer function, though after a few you had come out with this one. It was perfect.

Suguru holds the frame between his fingers, looking at the little girl beside you. She looked a lot like him, the same eyes, the same shade of hair, but she housed your smile. Tears clouded his vision as he wonders how he's missed out on two years with someone he should've been there for, he's missed so much already.

"Why did you come here?" Suguru asks, a warmth rolling over his cheek. "She inherited your technique." You swallow. "A few weeks ago, we came into contact with a curse, but before I was able to exercise it, she ingested it, just like you. A few days after that, she was witnessed by a grade three, and we were called upon by the higher-ups."

"I never wanted this for her, Suguru. I just wanted to watch her grow through normal means - I know it was a lot to wish for, but she's my baby. I can't bare to picture her dead in some ditch after they rinse her of everything she has."

"I'll refuse to teach her." He's desperate through his tears, mind racing. "Then they'll just find someone else. There's really no point, unless you're really adverse."

"Why couldn't you have just told me?" He talks as if his words are sapping his lifeforce, and you only watch as he slumps forward, heartbroken and confused. That guilty feeling has hit a new high. "Same reason you shut me out after that night - I was scared, and decided it was better to leave than to face what we did." It's wrong to defend your actions, they should be unforgivable. But, Suguru doesn't seem to put much energy into his disgust with you, because he's just too upset. "I've missed out on two years of my child's life, that's not the same." His hands shake, whether it's rage or distress, he can't tell.

"I'm so sorry." You bow your head, ashamed. "I was so scared, please forgive me." Suguru looks up at you, a heavy breath on his lips. It's not as if you hadn't tried to tell him; he'd practically shunned you. It wasn't fair to give you all the blame, even if it would save his sanity. "Do you wanna meet her?"

"Keiko, baby." She's clutching a small bear against her chest when she walks through the door, rubbing her eyes. The small girl's brown hair is a little messy, and she's still in a pair of cutesy pink pyjamas. "I want you to meet someone." You voice to her slowly while holding her little hand, your heart racing. There's no textbook answer when it comes to difficult parenting decisions, and uncomfortable situations. How do you tell a two year old they have a father in which they've never met?

Suguru's reluctant to look at the doorway when he hears you two coming through. This is the biggest moment of his life, meeting his child, his heartrate reflects this in it's unforgiving pace, his breaths leaving him before he's ready to breathe back in. He'll have to count down, he thinks, to force himself to look at his kin - there's no way he can surely meet her eye otherwise. Five seconds and he'll look, four now. Three, and he's sweating, shaking at two, swallowing harshly before he counts one, eyes forced from their spot over the floorboards to flicker up at the little girl standing at her mother's side.

God, it feels like nothing on this planet has ever mattered to Suguru, because in those brown eyes, there's so much innocence. He can feel his heart melt as he recognises so much of himself in her, his DNA, used to build such a perfect daughter with the cutest version of his character. Her huge, wide eyes, cute roundish nose - but her lips are all you.

This child is a part of him he didn't know existed, a jigsaw piece melded to fit right within his chest. There's some kind of primal urge to protect her at all costs, to hold her closely, which is why Suguru finds himself at his knees with open arms in search of her comfort, to have his forbearing body embraced by his entire world. A child he'd never known is suddenly the key to his happiness, because she is everything he isn't.

"Hi." He wants to say more, yet a million words couldn't describe how he feels. Suguru can't decide on what to say, so instead settles with that small greeting. She smiles at him nonetheless, and you watch as his eyes soften, a smile over his lips. "Hello." Her voice is small, much like her stature, and she's still sleepy. Suguru puts a hand over her shoulder, and you find yourself overcome with a grin you can't hide. Despite your anxieties, you know Suguru will love her as much as you do.

"Remember I told you about your daddy? This is him." You're gentle, and you're not sure she'll understand entirely, only seeing that family dynamic on films and tv shows. You'd told her a few times she has a daddy, though she's never seemed all too interested beyond that confirmation. Though she stares at him wide eyed, a smile growing over her cheeks.

"Daddy!" She repeats, and Suguru has to stop himself from breaking apart at that name. When he'd felt hopeless, weak and depressive, so many times he wondered if his existence would ever improve. Whether he'll be anything more than a sorcerer for jujutsu society to rinse, toss into battle and bury when things grew too difficult. He's grown to be Satoru's friend and not much more.

But with this child before him, he sees some form of light. There's a reason for him to keep going, because he doesn't want his girl to feel anything he's endured. He looks to you for the first time since laying his eyes on her, to your watery eyes, and his heart feels disgustingly full. This is what he's been missing out on.

a/n: sooo this is it. i hope it met your expectations, honestly i really wanted to put more into this ending and i feel i could've done better, but life has been such a whirlwind as of late. i think this is the last post i'll make before finding myself on a hiatus, so think of this fic as a semi-good-bye. thank you so much for all of the love i have received, it truly means the world!

tags-

@hojoslutoru @itztamar @magey0412 @strflp @kaeyakaikai @animeisforkings @emikisses @boredwithwrath @karazorel7 @tomiokasecretlover @mrsoharaa @magey0412 @thisbicc @aemiliabruno @zenys @sukunaspillow @caixgee @ssetsuka @pinkpunkdynamite @harlamarie @cephei-ea @dazailover1900

#suguru fic #suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #geto x reader #geto fic #suguru geto fanfic #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru angst #geto suguru fluff #jjk x you

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readychilledwine · 8 months ago

Text

Happy Birthday, High Lord!

Summary - You and Lucien pulled all the stops for Tamlin's birthday this year. Now you just have to hope your mate appreciates it.

Warnings - sexual jokes and innuendos, implied possible smut at the end

Prompt - Day 6 - Celebration

A/n - Happy @polyacotarweek day 6! I'm not super happy with this one. I probably would have been had I added the smut at the end, but I wanted my trouple to be wholesome instead.

💕Poly+ACOTAR Week Masterlist💕

“Meticulous.” Whenever someone asked Tamlin and Lucien to describe you, that was the first word that came to mind.

“Blabbermouth” would be the next thing. It wasn't that you couldn't keep secrets in general. It was that you struggled to keep secrets from them from Lucien and Tamlin.

Lucien kept a straight face, the string connected to you pulled tight as Tamlin stared you down, green eyes sparkling with joy. “Tell me, petal.”

They both burst into laughter as you shoved a muffin into your mouth, then pointed and shook your head. “Just take her for a ride, Tamlin.”

“I will let her ride whenever she wants. I just want to know why we are going out for the day while you stay here.”

Lucien sighed. “Just take her out.” You continued chewing, blinking at the two of them every so often. “Or else I will just ride you, and we can go out.”

You glared at him as he smirked before shaking your head and pouting at Tamlin. You and Lucien knew Tamlin like the backs of your hands, and when he opened his mouth, you knew the two of you had played him like a fiddle. “Just for pouting, Lucien and I will head to town. You can stay here.”

Lucien tugged the bond twice as you continued the act, sending his love your way as the two of them stood. Lucien was the first to kiss you. He always would be. The kiss was gentle and warm before he then kissed your forehead with a quickly returned “I love you.”

Tamlin always kissed you last. You were their's, yes, but you had been his first, and he had risked everything to protect you from Amarantha and Hybern. It had taken so long for you two to find each other again that he had almost lost hope.

His hands rested on your cheeks as he pulled you in, soft lips fitting to yours like a puzzle. “Be good.”

“I will. I promise.”

“I love you, little rose.”

“I love you,” you refused to add the “too”. You always did with both of them. You didn't love them just because they loved you. You loved them because you genuinely did. You waited for Lucien to give the signal, the bond tugging one last time before getting to work.

The Manor was eerily silent when Lucien and Tamlin returned hours later. The faelights had been turned off, and the servant's area was even silent. Tamlin was immediately on edge, and Lucien led them in. You were nowhere to be found. “Maybe the ballroom?”

“She wanted to redecorate it. Maybe she is planning.” Lucien led Tamlin that way, hiding his smile the best he could. He mentally counted the years to himself, 55 years. They had not celebrated Tam's birthday in 55 years.

Lucien pushed open the large rosewood door, allowing Tamlin in and watching as his face fell and you dropped the sound ward. Inside, a lively party was beginning.

Tarquin was standing next to you and waved. Helion was laughing with Thesan in the corner. Fae were dancing and laughing in all directions. Every high lord and their respective circle had come, all excited to finally be welcomed into the newly repaired Spring.

“Happy birthday, Tam,” Lucien looked at him. “Aren't you happy I demanded you dress nicely for our date now? Oh look, there's Feyre, you could go tell her that her hair looks clean.” The mentioned female waves from where she was spinning Nyx, smile bright as Rhysand watched and laughed. The Lord of Night nodded to Tamlin. While their relationship had not been 100% fixed, it had at least become civil.

Tamlin was shocked. Standing there with his eyes wide. “How?”

Lucien shrugged and inclined his head to you. “She's magic.”

You and Lucien had ensured everything was perfect. His closest friends and repaired relationships were all there. His favorite cake sat on a table waiting for him. The two of them took their places at your side, smiling and greeting their guests and friends as they watched you receive constant praise at the party. Lucien held your hand as Tamlin kept an arm around your waist, keeping you both close to him.

He had not expected this. Tamlin had expected a small dinner with the three of you, possibly a gift from you, and a verbal sparring match from Lucien, but this was above all expectations. He couldn't help but smile all night, hand staying in its place on your hip while his other would go from being free to touching Lucien.

You leaned in and kissed his cheek as the night started to close down and guests turned to their respective rooms. “Did you have a happy birthday?”

You both looked to where Lucien and Eris were having an animated discussion regarding foxes versus the newly crowded Autumn Lord's precious hounds. “I did. The weather was beautiful. Lucien and I got to enjoy the market. We laid out in the flower field. Had a lovely dinner. And then I come home to all of this. It must have taken you hours to plan this.”

“A few days.”

“I don't deserve it.”

“I have two beautiful and loving mates ensuring I do that.”

“You deserve the world. You are not that male anymore. You have healed, and you have found closure. Think of this birthday as a new beginning. Permission to move on."

Your lip twitched up, “The red-haired male is definitely the prettiest.”

“Easily.”

“We should do something about it.”

Tamlin smirked. “I have a few things in mind. They are not appropriate for the present company, though.”

“Ah, so we're going to fuck him.”

“Another night, maybe. Some pretty female offered to ride me earlier. I'd like to take her up on that.” You felt Tamlin tug both sides of the bond, excusing you both to retire for the night and informing Lucien of where to find you both. “If she'd still like to that is.”

Your eyes had already gone slightly hazed, fingers intertwining more with his. “Yes please.”

“Then I've had the perfect birthday. A date with my husband. Sex with my wife. A party. What more could a simple high lord ask for.”

“A threesome!” A familiar voice appeared next to you, smile bright and voice breathless. “A birthday threesome.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria

Poly+ACOTAR Week Taglist

@amara-moonlight @toporecall @littlestw01f @prettylittlewrites @anuttellaa @nayaniasworld @123345566

#acotar #acotar x reader #tamcien #tamcien x reader #tamlin x reader x lucien #trouple visibility #consensual non monogamy #polyamorous visibility #poly+acotarweek 2024 #poly!acotarweek 2024 d6 #tamlin x reader #lucien x tamlin #lucien x reader #tamlin acotar #lucien acotar #lucien vanserra acotar #lucien vandaddy

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ohnopoteito · 5 months ago

Text

"something about you" ellie × reader

Reader entering a convenience store and falling in love with cashier Ellie.

a/n: Hello again everyone!!! i know it's been a long time since i first posted this fanfic and I'm so sorry for that :( honestly i wasn't expecting all those likes and all 😭😭😭 thank you so much for receiving my work so well!!! I'll organize everything better later bc I'm so tired rn

c/w: i don't know??? maybe low self steem stuff, anxiety knocking reader's door, still a fluff fanfic!!! notproofread (im not wearing my glasses pls) + english is not my first language but feel free to correct me!!! just enjoy it pookies ;))

chapter two ♡

Waking up that morning was just as light as a feather, a slight and good anxiety running through your veins and flesh, boosting your body to jump out of bed and start your day. Good appearance was what you've chosen for the day, wondering even if you should brush your teeth twice before leaving home and head to your mission of the day, get the auburn hair cashier's name or something you could have to be close to her, just the thought of that was enough for a smile from ear to ear to bloom on your face.

Backpack around your shoulders as you left your place and walked with excited silly steps to the convenience store where your heart raced almost passionately. Across the street, you could watch an unknown and masculine figure organizing cardboard boxes in the store facade, scrunching your face and fixing your dirty glasses — the ones you forgot cleaning after saying you'd clean the following day —, you could tell the man had already grey hair and wrinkled face, but he still managed to have a good appearance.

Taking a deep breath and crossing the street, you wondered if it really was a good idea, anxious thoughts wrecking you once again, frowning as you realize your body stading in front of the store for long five minutes. Your breath stuck in your throat, her figure from afar and those beautiful physical traits were carefully perceived by your curious eyes.

Too distracted to even notice the environment around you, a gentle palm rested on your tense shoulder, causing you to jump in response. The same man you eyed before, he smiled at you as his hands brushed his leather coat before speaking.

"Sorry if I scared you." His voice was deep yet caring for you, a faint smile could be seen.

"No, it's fine! I was just... distracted." You spoke up kindly, your hands sweating as your fingers fidgeted to relieve your anxiety. "Sorry for asking, but do you work here?" Was the best you could speak, and the only response you got was a cracked chuckle.

"Guess what, it's a funny part." He said as his long feet stepped a way from you, signing for you to follow him as well. You tilt your head to the side, wondering if you were about to be kidnaped or something, but you follow his path calmly. You stood next to him as his hand raised and pointed to the storefront sign.

"Joel's" you whispered as your eyes scrunched in an attempt to read clearly despite the bright sun making your eyes sting, you could read properly the store's name after having only an blurred image of the sign in your subconscious.

You looked at him, waiting for something, but his smile only grew more. "Guess what my name is." He finally said.

You blinked a few times, guiding your eyes to look around before responding, "Joel?" You sounded unsure. The answer was obvious, but you couldn't believe he'd be so predictable.

He burst in laugh after that, you could just give him a smile back nervously, he was acting like it was the funniest thing ever, you felt guilty for not laughing and looked to the sign again, faking a chuckle as you avoided looking at him.

"Everyone find it funny." He said as his finger brushed his eyelids, wiping away a tear that was about to run down the corner of his eye. You covered your mouth, thinking what just happened.

Your hand followed to the back of your neck, scratching lightly. "Yeah, it's really funny..." you said uncertainly, your words falling falsely from your lips.

"Um, I have... to go, so..." You stuttered as you walked away slowly.

"No problem, dear." He waved gently. You really wanted to find that funny but, god. "We have some products on sale, check them out!

You smiled once again before turning back him and heading to the local market.

As you entered the place, your figure walked to a random section, it was just some snacks in. Your eyes scanned some of them, a sound of the rubber sole of a sneaker sliding across the floor close to you.

"I saw that." The familiar husky voice tone made your body shiver,

Your body turned to face the figure in front of you quickly enough to have a spasm when you met those intense and tired green eyes observing your facial features.

"What?" Your eyes widened.

"You and Joel." she said with a lazy smirk, her arms crossed and her weight shifting to her left leg. "The storefront sign thing." Her eyes looked away, her side profile holding you in a trance. The daylight highlighted her pale skin and the freckles that ran all over her face.

You could swear you've seen a smile on her dry lips. "You were just another victim." She sounded happy, even though her tone of voice made it hard to discern her emotions.

"I wasn't a victim, I just went with the flow." A soft answer, hands touching the shelves to spare all the energy on your nerves, eyes looking at a blind spot behind the auburn girl. A deep breath before finally speaking again.

"Do you also have a different way to present yourself?" You could feel a drop of sweat forming on your scalp. "Like, just as creatively as Joel?"

The girl right before you bit her lip, peeling the dry skin as her eyes were locked on her old black converse.

"No, I'm just ordinary. No signs with my name." She smiled at you. Your heart skipped a beat when her eyes met yours.

"I'm Ellie."

Your smile bloomed sweetly, "cute." You thought

Ellie smiled softly when you told her your name as well, crossing her arms against her chest, her arm tattoo plainly visible. The ink was a bit faded, so you deduced it had been tattooed a long time ago. You couldn't keep the conversation going for more than that. The best you could do was pick a random snack you didn't even like and pay for it, only to see Ellie smiling at you as she handed you your shopping bag.

You kept this way for the rest of the week, waking up earlier, going to Joel's and choosing some product only to see her face and have an ordinary short talk, repeat the last steps after your classes. "Am I being too weird?" You thought with yourself after leaving the local market once again.

Ellie seemed to not care, at least. Maybe she just doesn't care. You should save your money and stop being stupid.

But you couldn't. You pressed your lips tightly as you entered the convenience store after your classes, the guilt making your shoulders heavy and tense. Walking silently through the sections that you had already memorized every product of each one of them, chewing your inner cheek, trying to think straight and stop yourself, you began to feel... sad.

It couldn't be a wasted time walking more than the usual way you took. Shrugging off your thoughts, you grabbed a bottle of water and headed to the checkout counter for the last time, you've promised to yourself. Your eyes avoided Ellie as you watched her take the bottle and scan it.

"You good?"

She was the one to speak first, her fingers lightly caressing her eye bags, her eyes fixed on you. It was as if everything had just stopped around you; you couldn't listen to a single word. Her lips were moving, but you couldn't understand a thing. Your mind went blank. You could only shake your head slowly, blinking in an attempt to wake yourself up from that trance.

"Um?" You hummed, your mouth went dry.

And she... laughed?

"What?" You asked again, your eyes laid on the chunky notebook next to the cash register before returning to Ellie.

"I asked if you're fine." She muttered, handing you the plastic bag. "You look disoriented today. Just worried."

At least you know she doesn't hate you, you let out a sigh in relief.

"Ah, I see..." You swallowed, holding the plastic bag and feeling the tip of her fingers brushing lightly against yours. "Maybe I am."

You squeezed the bag slightly, letting your palm feel the cold water drops sweating the plastic.

"I hope you figure it out." Her voice was soft. Your lips formed a thin smile. Her tone sounded just as sincere. You didn't know much about Ellie, and she was in the same boat as you. She couldn't push boundaries either, and she still could understand your odd behavior even if it wasn't her business. A safe distance.

"Don't need to pay for it, by the way." She rested her left hand on the back of her neck, massaging the area.

"What? But i want to." You answered.

"No, you don't." You frowned as she turned her back to you and began to look for something in her old backpack, a spaceship pin decorating the blue fabric. "Consider it as a gift, will you?"

You couldn't hold your tongue much longer. "Why is that?"

She didn't answer you immediately, Ellie spent some seconds in silence.

"You know, you're a frequent customer and polite... I mean, I just think some good action would make your night better." She sounded nonchalant, but you could hear a "Man..."

"I don't know, I'm not the best at cheering people up. Sorry." She spoke again before turning back to you. "Here, for you."

A dinosaur sticker pad, in the same art style as the others you'd seen around the store, the same as the one on the cover of her notebook. One sticker pad with four dinosaur stickers on it.

Your smile was sincere and bright as a sunshine, tilting your head to the side, you admired the art style and Ellie's cute actions.

"This is the best I can do... for now." Her hands rested on her hips. She was wearing old, faded, skinny jeans and her uniform shirt. Her teeth peeled the dry skin of her lips.

"It's perfect, thank you." Your smile didn't fade away.

It wasn't a kid sticking dinosaur images after all; it was just Ellie. The auburn-haired girl, the one with an intimidating posture and such an intense gaze, with those beautiful green eyes that could make your knees weak. She was just someone trying to cheer up a frequent customer, wasn't she?

Your eyes fixed on her freckles, overthinking again. Wondering if you should postpone asking for her number. You couldn't screw that up.

"Ellie?" You called her name, feeling your body shiver just by saying her name. Your skin felt warm as her eyes met yours again, those green orbs focusing solely on you.

Were you seeing things? Or Ellie seemed... interested in what you had to say? No, not at all.

"Um?" Her eyebrows rose slightly, a relaxed expression on her face. She seemed tired, just like the last day, but not uninterested.

"I..." You laughed nervously, already regreting the other words you were holding in your throat. Nails scracthing the back of your neck as you looked around, "I don't know if I should say this." A nervous smile made Ellie tilt her head to the side, the poorly tied bun left some strands of hair coming out.

"Why? Is there something off?" She asked as her gaze frowned.

Your fingers caressed the sticker pad. "It's just that... I wish I had more knowledge about dinosaurs." It was true, indeed. You would learn everything just to talk to her. You looked at her again, her head lowered, her sneaker sole playing with the floor.

Your tired eyes landed on her figure. You weren't really expecting an answer. You had just thought aloud, and you were okay with that. You were okay with her silence, the lack of dialogue between you. The silence was friendly. It felt good.

"I can teach you." She almost whispered; she wasn't looking at you, but you were noticing every detail of her body language. "If you're okay with that, of course."

You were both blushing, your heart beating so fast you were almost sure you would pass out. Your blood rushed to your feet, preparing you to run. But you didn't want to; anxiety is so dumb.

"This is so stupid. I don't even know why I said that. Sorry." She brushed her palm over her face. You frowned lightly, concerned.

"No! It's fine, I'd love that, honestly." You waved to her, "I just..." You bit your inner cheek, heart beating faster.

"I wanna talk to you more. If you're okay with that too."

Ellie smiled at you, a thin smile to you as her eyes seemed to smile as well. You could feel the butterflies in your stomach. Ellie was something you had never experienced before.

"Can I get your number?" she stuttered.

!!!

omg guys it's so stressful to write dialogues 😩

anyway i hope everything is okay and in place!!!

taglist 💋💋💋!!!

thank you again everyone!!!

@yourelliewillms

@lil-elliesgf

@seraphicsentences

#ellie x reader #ellie williams #ellie the last of us #fanfic #sapphic

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strangerstilinski · 1 year ago

Text

𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Watch out, don't look. She's your nightmare of a dream. Go home, run fast… Blood's her favorite shade of red. Say your prayers and go to bed.

warnings; no use of y/n, fem!reader, reader referred to as a girl twice i think?, blood, blood is a big plot point here, reader isn't exactly human, a little vampiric?, eddie & dustin kind of come to the rescue, steve centric though, oral sex, penetrative sex, just to be clear reader doesn't hurt steve or make him bleed, she just craves blood, don't let the insp. fool you this is actually very soft

(loosely inspired by jennifer's body)

word count; ~10k

a/n; i had a couple of drinks and watched jennifer's body and suddenly i couldn't think about anything but this. did this turn out a lot longer and little softer than i initially intended?? yes! yes it did. idk what to tell you.

please think about leaving a comment/reblogging if you enjoy! x

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝟏𝟖+

Everything's a bit foggy when you first wake.

Your memories, or lack thereof, refuse to come when you dig through the recesses of your mind, no clues or wisps of recollection trickling in no matter how strongly you will them to come. An ache forms in your temples as you attempt to recall where you are, where you've been, how you got here.

Where even was here?

A gust of wind rushes over your bare skin and prompts the distantly familiar rustle of leaves and branches that always accompanies a breeze in the woods. Every inch of your exposed flesh pebbles up uncomfortably from the cold, hairs on your arm standing on end, nipples tightening into hard peaks, stomach tensing as you fight off a full-body shiver.

Then comes the slow twitch of your fingers. The ability to move your extremities slowly creeps back in, allowing your hand to curl loosely around the cool earth underneath you, dirt and rocks and long-dead leaves wedging themselves beneath your fingernails.

Gravel and twigs crunch beneath your head when you roll it ever so slightly to the side and crack your eyes open. Through cloudy vision, you fight to focus on the spring-blooming trees above. It's overly difficult, that simple task of keeping your eyes open through the slow fluttering blinks, your eyelids heavy and leaden as you struggle to adjust to the dark twilight around you.

A groan rumbles up your throat when you drag yourself up, legs shaking, ankles weak, vision wavering. Bleary eyes take in the way that the trees seem to sway around you, take in the sun just cresting the horizon, and finally, when you stumble and your gaze drops, they take in the blood covering your naked body. Streaks of it down your chest so thick that the color of your nipples underneath is indistinguishable from your bare skin. It covers your stomach with a shade of red so dark it nearly looks black in the dim light of early morning, dripping down your pelvis and smearing wetly into the crease of your thighs. The warmth of it has already begun to dwindle and cool against your skin from the chill of the air and your palm meets the blood-soaked skin of your lower belly on instinct, hazy vision zeroing in on the way the color looks against your fingertips as thick droplets fall from your hand to the earth below.

Someone else's blood? Or your own?

The lack of recollection has fear slithering its way up the length of your spine and you do shiver this time. Cold and lost, you're overwhelmed with a niggling feeling of hunger swirling in your gut, the strength of it unlike anything you've ever felt before. A cold pit of hollow emptiness paired cruelly with a stabbing pain in your abdomen. The ache only seems to amplify the dryness in your throat, the tremble in your dirt and blood-crusted fingers.

Everything feels heavier than it should — Clumsier. One of your hands shoots out when you stumble over your own feet. You brace yourself against a tree as you try to refamiliarize yourself with the way that each your muscles and limbs work, every movement requiring too much effort. Each small step in your body feeling alien and forced, unnervingly foreign.

It's while your head continues to throb painfully against your skull that your fingertips find a smooth patch of wood. You rub at that place where the bark has been deliberately stripped away from the tree's trunk, the surface providing a blank canvas for the initials that have been clumsily etched into the living wood. While you dig your fingernail into the curve of that first letter, you take a deep breath to steady yourself.

As your lungs fill, a dark fog further clouds your already muddled brain. It's no longer the smell of the earth and the trees of the forest around you that rush to your senses. Instead, your nose is suddenly filled with the scent of teakwood, nicotine, and spice — mingling sweetly with something warm that you can't quite place, but makes your belly flip with interest all the same.

Mind clouded and knees shaky, you push away from the tree, some vague sense of rightness pulling you a step to the right, and then another, until you're wandering slowly to the edge of the forest and toward the road that lays just beyond the treeline.

Your throat itches painfully as you recall the scent that lingered behind and clung to that carving in the tree trunk. It burns in your throat. It pushes your feet to move faster. The smell as well as the shape of the letters that are now etched behind your eyelids.

S. H.

Wind of his own creation whips against Steve's face as he pushes through the exhaustion and wills his body to keep going. Sweat trickles down from his hairline, cresting his brow bone and streaking a path over his temple before the tickle of it forces Steve to hook his fingers into the damp fabric of his shirt, his shoulder lifting to wipe the droplet away.

His heavy breaths cloud in barely visible puffs of foggy condensation in the cool morning air, the heat building beneath his skin from exertion causing a pink flush to creep up the tanned skin of his neck and face.

The deserted street holds only the soft sound of his tattered running shoes slapping against the pavement with each stride, the sharp huffs of air that push through his nose with every breath in and out, the muffled beat of the music that trickles out from the foam pads he has hooked over his ears, a wire winding down to the walkman clipped at the waistband of his shorts.

The sun creeps up higher with each minute that passes, each mile toward downtown and then each mile back toward his tiny two bedroom fixer-upper on the outskirts of Hawkins. The dark blue of the morning sky is giving way to a lighter shade tinged with orange, the trees that hug the pavement blocking out most of the morning light that begins to creep back into the world.

Dim streaks of gold filter through the dusty window panes in his kitchen when he finally makes it home. Headphones still slotted over his ears, the music streaming through them blocks out the sound of his own labored breathing as he fills a glass of water from the sink.

The pipes groan with the effort and the front door creaks ominously on its hinges as it swings open again just outside the kitchen. Meanwhile, Steve gulps down the cool water, grateful for the way it soothes the dryness in his raw throat. The slow drag of bare feet across the battered floorboards go unheard as Steve quickly finishes his glass and fills it once more, sipping more slowly the second time around.

As you shuffle farther into the house, the first thing that you notice is how potent his scent is in the space. Every inch of the small house seems to be soaked in it; the heap of fabric hanging from the coat rack against the wall, the cushions on the battered sofa in the living room and the fleece blanket folded over the back, even the porous wood of the table and chairs is absolutely drenched in the smell of him.

The strength of it is overwhelming and it only proves to hypnotize you further as you step into the room behind him. The boy's overheated skin is giving off a delicious mix of sweetness with just a tinge of the sour stench of his sweat. You can practically feel the warmth of his blood and flesh on your tongue and it makes your mouth water, makes your chest tight with anticipation and excitement that you don't quite understand.

You can focus on little else, barely able to register the haphazardly cut off sleeves of the stranger's tshirt or the way that those gaping holes exposes the sides of his pecs and the hair beneath his arms. You hardly notice the way that his tiny cotton shorts hug his muscular thighs so wonderfully, nor the way that long hazelnut locks curls wetly around the sweatband that holds the hair back from his face.

The scent of him so close is intoxicating, the hunger in your gut too all-encompassing to truly relish in the way his shoulders strain beneath sweat-soaked cotton when he lifts a cup of water to his mouth.

Your feet carry you forward with a primal sort of instinct, until you're mere inches from the man's unsuspecting back, until you can see the drop of sweat that weaves out from beneath his hair and drips beneath the collar of his shirt.

Something prickles at the back of Steve's neck then, as you crowd closer, tiny hairs at the top of his spine standing on end while discomfort scrapes at the corner of his brain. It prompts him to turn, and the glass in his hand slips from his grasp and cracks loudly against the floor when he flinches in surprise. His headphones fall from his ears and settle to hang around his neck just in time for him to hear the sound of glass and water shattering against the kitchen tile.

Steve clutches at his own chest, “Jesus fucking-”

Though you're not sure why, you don't immediately attack. Something has you holding back, the ache in your throat burning like fire when you breathe him in again. His scent clings to the oxygen in a way that has your breath catching in your chest.

Steve's heart is pounding in his ears over the distant sound of the music that continues to blare through the headphones around his neck, but when he finally focusses on the sight of you in front of him, any fear for his own well-being is gone, flipping entirely until the sole focus of his worry is on you.

The stranger standing in his kitchen is looking at him with the hollow gaze of someone haunted, someone with demons. You look like you've been through hell, or perhaps like you've just stepped off the set of a slasher movie. Your hair is a tangled mess of twigs and leaves. The warm orange light filtering in through the windows displays curves of your naked body, blood covering the vastness of your exposed skin. He can't immediately make out an injury beneath all of the red, but it doesn't stop him from ripping his walkman from his body and tossing it in the counter behind him to finally silence the music and give you his full attention.

“Holy shit, what-”

You find the rasp of his voice delicious. Your head tips just slightly to one side as you finally allow yourself to take him in. He's beautiful, this scrumptious smelling stranger. You find yourself wanting to sink your teeth into the curve of his shoulder to hear the cry that would rip from his throat in response, want to feel his blood — warm and heavy and thick on your tongue.

“Are you okay? Fucking- Fuck, of course you're not okay,” He stammers in a panic, struggling with the effort of keeping his gaze from trailing over your exposed body. His hands twitch like he wants to reach out for you but is unsure how you might react to his touch — the thought forces the corner of your lip to tick up in a nearly imperceptible hint of a grin as he continues, “Shit, who- Who hurt you?” His eyes go soft, big and brown, wide and worried for your well-being, “Can you tell me what happened t'you, honey? C’you tell me who did this?”

The term of endearment that slips into his words has your stomach fluttering despite the bone-deep ache of hunger eating away at you. You give a small, wordless shake of your head, lips parting to take in another breath. As the air rushes in through your mouth, you find that you can taste him on your tongue, and the sweetness makes saliva pool behind your teeth to the point that you're forced to swallow it down.

“No? You don't know or.. Or you don't remember?” He questions carefully, his gaze trailing over a streak of blood at your hairline, “Did you hit your head?”

Another breath in through your mouth has your eyes fluttering, your exhale a trembling sounding thing as it pushes back out of your chest.

He seems to take your tremor as a sign of trauma-induced fear rather than what it truly is, and he stumbles a small step back, his attention moving to the basket of unfolded laundry sitting atop the washing machine at the other side of the room.

“Shit, lemme, uh, I'll just grab you a shirt or something and we can call-”

He's taking another step away as he speaks and- No, you think. That won't do.

Steve's rambling cuts off when he's shoved bodily into the wall. The clock hanging a few feet away rattles and his back aches with the impact of his spine against the drywall. He huffs out a sharp breath of surprise from your startling display of strength. You've got one hand against the steadily cooling dampness of his sweat-soaked chest, your other locked around both of his wrists, holding them securely against the seam of his own thighs.

“I, uh-” Steve stammers before swallowing with an audible gulp. He struggles against your grip and is stunned to find that he can't break free, his muscles straining with the effort despite the fact that your hands aren't large enough to even encircle entire circumference of his wrists.

You're leaning in then, your nose pushing into the curve of his throat to take in another deep breath. He can feel it when your mouth drops open as you pull in his scent, feels the way your parted lips drag against his sweaty skin. He fights back a shiver at the sensation, fights to remain still when you press yourself against him, blood from your chest soaking into his shirt, his trapped hands coming into contact with the warmth of the blood-soaked smattering of hair at the apex of your thighs.

“What, uh.. What's happening right now?” Steve questions, his voice pitched high with confusion and anxiety.

“I'm hungry,” Your voice comes finally, the sound of it wrecked and beautiful as it meets Steve's ears. Your teeth scrape the vein pulsing violently beneath his skin of his throat as your burrow deeper into him, your tongue coming out for just a quick taste of the salt and fear on his skin. “I'm so hungry.” You murmur against him, words muffled.

“Okay,” Steve squeaks, pulling against your grip on his wrists again but freezing when the meat of his palm brushes the bloody patch of hair over your mound. His knees feel weak, his fingers are trembling, breaths coming quick and sharp. He's never feared for his life quite so strongly while simultaneously feeling so aroused. It's all very confusing. “Okay, yeah. I, uh- I can- I can make some breakfast if- Ho-Shit. I.. If you're hungry-”

A low growl rumbles up your throat the mention of your hunger and you savor once again in the thought of how sweet his blood will taste on your tongue. He's very handsome — he seems sweet, kind. You don't want to kill him, but then again..

Your head swims dizzily.

“What's your name?” You ask in a low whisper that pushes your warm breath out against his skin and has his cock twitching traitorously in his pants.

“Steve-” He says in rush, “My name's Steve! And I- I can help you! Me and my friends have seen some crazy shit, I- I swear we can-”

You're taking in one last breath with your mouth against that pulsing vein where his scent is the strongest, pulling it in slow and deep and relishing in the way that the burn makes your throat ache, makes your stomach twist. But then you're leaning back to get a good look at his face. His pointed nose brushes the tip of your own as he tells you his name, his pleas thereafter falling breathlessly against your own lips in such close proximity.

“Are you scared, Steve?” You interrupt his rambling to ask sweetly, the hand on his shoulder coming up until you can swipe a bead of sweat away from his temple with the pad of your thumb. Your touch leaves a streak of red shining starkly against his tanned skin.

The boy, Steve, nods slowly.

“I know,” You whisper, your eyes studying the way the golden sunlight catches the hues of brown swirling in his irises, “Do you know how I know that, Steve?”

“Uh..” He swallows audibly again, fidgeting on his feet as much as he can in his current position between you and the wall behind him, “'s'it because.. 'Cause my hands are shaking?”

You move your head slowly side-to-side and the movement has your noses brushing again. Steve watches as the empty darkness in your eyes wavers with something that looks almost like it might be excitement.

“I can smell it,” You murmur, your mouth so, so close to his, “I can taste it on my tongue.”

“That's pretty cool,” Steve manages, “That, like, a superpower of yours? I, uh, I bet that comes in handy-”

“I don't know what's happening,” You interrupt his silly ramblings to admit quietly, your gaze holding his as you struggle to swallow down the instinct to sink your teeth into the muscled flesh where his shoulder meets his neck, “This feeling.. This hunger. Want your blood on my tongue. I.. I want to kill you, Steve.” You finish in a whisper, pupils blown wide.

“I- Please don't. Don't kill me.” He begs, feeling truly pathetic as he does so but also feeling far too frightened not to at least try.

The pretty swirls of brown and gold in his eyes shine with fear, and the sight has something sour twisting in your chest beneath your ribs. It has your grip on his wrists tightening for a second before you're releasing them entirely. A deep exhale pushes all of the air from your lungs and you hold it as long as you can, eyes pinching shut as you try to rein in the primal urge to maim, kill, and feed.

The absence of his wrists in your grip has the tremble in your own hands starting up again as they travel up the length of his torso, blood smearing against the beauty marks on his cheeks when you take his warm face in your hands.

“I don't want to want to kill you.” You tell him in a weak rasp.

Steve lets out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding, hesitating for only a moment before he's wrapping his larger hands around the backs of your own.

“Okay.. Okay, that's good,” He nods wildly in relief, though his heart continues to beat irregularly with unsettled nerves, “That's a good start, huh? Let's run with it-”

His cheeks and his palms are so warm in comparison to your own skin. You push your dirty fingers against his cheeks until they almost squish under the pressure, his lips forced to purse cutely while you relish in the heat that seeps into your hands.

“I'm not used to it,” You tell him quietly, “The way it.. It hurts. It burns.”

When Steve hooks his thumbs beneath your palms to ease your hands away from his face, he's surprised to find that you don't put up a fight, merely allowing him to lower your arms to your sides and hold them there.

“Are you.. So you're.. a newly turned vampire or something?” He questions slowly.

A quick snort of laughter escapes you in your surprise and the sound combined with the sight of your lips tugging up at the corners into an amused smile has Steve smiling as well, albeit in confusion.

“What?” You're giggling around the word and Steve thinks that his heart might skip a beat at the sound. What was wrong with him?

“..What?” Steve repeats.

“I'm not.. I'm not a vampire.” You laugh softly again.

“You're not?” He questions slowly, brows drawing together when you shake your head at him, “Then.. What are you?”

The question stumps you. The ache in your temples makes itself known again when you push against that impenetrable wall of emptiness in your mind in search of something.

Steve watches your brows furrow in concentration, watches the way your nose scrunches up cutely. You're beautiful and terrifying and his heart has felt on the verge of possibly beating out of his chest since the first second that he laid eyes on you — ethereal and stunning like some sort of nightmare swathed daydream.

All at once, he remembers your current state of undress, the soft squish of your breasts against his chest over the blood and sweat-soaked fabric of his shirt is suddenly impossible to ignore. He feels a rush of heat flush the skin under his collar all the way up to his ears and- Dear God, he needs to get a hold of himself.

“I don't..” A disgruntled sigh blows past your lips, unaware of Steve's mental unraveling, “I don't know. I can't remember.. anything.”

Steve only nods, shouldering past you slowly and moving toward the aged refrigerator on the other side of the room to peer inside.

“So you don't know for sure that you're not a vampire,” Steve teeters his head side to side as he takes in the stark emptiness within the fridge, his neglect to do any form of grocery shopping in the last week suddenly feeling like a grave error, “There's gotta be a few other possibilities, for sure, but uh-” He swings the refrigerator door closed with a sigh, “My friend Dustin will probably know more. The kid's, like, super smart. It's borderline annoying. Just- Why don't you get rinsed off or whatever and I'll give him a call for reinforcements.”

You frown as you peer down at yourself as if only just now remembering the state of yourself, one arm comes up to cover your breasts while the other does its best to hide what's between your legs. A trickle of nerves creeps up your spine that had been nonexistent before, the initial fog that accompanied your hunger and that first whiff of Steve's scent having overpowered everything else.

You had almost grown accustomed to the wetness of the blood beneath your arms, but now it irked you, uncomfortable with the fact that you still couldn't recall where it had come from, whose blood it was. The wondering has you feeling a bit nauseous suddenly.

“Rinse off,” You repeat slowly, avoiding locking eyes with the pretty brown gazing at your from across the room, “Yes. I should rinse.. this.”

He leads you to the bathroom with a wide palm warm against your spine that has your stomach flipping with entirely too eager butterflies.

It felt a bit dangerous, how much you crave to please this beautiful man already, how much you wish to bury yourself inside of his skin and never, ever leave.

Hair and skin scrubbed clean, donning borrowed socks, a pair of cotton gym shorts that were achingly similar to the tiny pair Steve had been wearing earlier that morning, and a soft crewneck with sleeves that hung past your fingertips, you eventually wandered into the open space between the entryway and living room.

Steve's head snaps up at the soft shuffle of your socked feet against the floorboards that signals your arrival. In your absence he's changed his own clothes, a clean tshirt and light wash denim replacing his sweaty and now blood-stained clothes from before. The puffy sweatband that had held his hair back had been removed as well, his mousy-brown hair hanging a bit limply as it dried around his face.

He makes his way toward you in a rush, stopping just a few inches short of actually making physical contact. His eyes rake over your body shamelessly now that you're no longer indecently exposed, memorizing the lines of your face and the softness of your damp hair and the smooth plushness of your bare thighs beneath his shorts.

“How're you.. You feeling okay?” Steve asks cautiously after an embarrassingly long moment of ogling. He prays that you haven't noticed his wandering gaze while your own has been preoccupied with taking in the furniture, the framed photographs, and the mess of magazines and comic books strewn throughout the living room.

Your eyes find his as you push a wet lock of hair behind your ear, closing your eyes in concentration as you take in your first breath since entering the room, letting the oxygen flood in through your mouth and focussing on the ache that his scent prompts in the base of your throat. It hurts, it does, but it's not nearly as overwhelming as it had felt upon that first whiff of it in the woods, nor is it as painful as when you'd breathed it straight from his skin in the kitchen.

“It's.. Bearable,” You promise slowly, “For now.”

“Good, good. That's good.” Steve lets a relived grin wash over his face.

“Your friend.. Daniel? When is-”

“Dustin,” Steve corrects immediately, “His name's Dustin.”

“Right.. Dustin,” You acknowledge, shaky fingers toying idly with the hem of your borrowed shorts, “When should we expect-”

It seems that your question is destined to remain unfinished, as the rumbling of a battered car engine grows louder in its approach, the rattling accompanied by the heavy thump of music blasting through a stereo. The familiar sounds have Steve letting loose a groan in discontent as he moves to pull open the front door, and as you peer around his shoulder, you spot a rusted van pulling into the driveway. The brakes creak, the deafening music cutting off as the doors on either side fly open and two young men tumble from the vehicle.

“Dusty buns, grab the goods from the back, would you?” The driver orders the boy currently climbing out of the passenger side of the van.

“What?” The boy scoffs in disbelief, adjusting the cap that squishes the tight ringlets of curls around his face and neck, “Gross. Why do I have to carry it?”

“Why do you have to carry it? Hm.. Why do you have to carry it..? Uh, let’s see..” The driver's face scrunches up in thought, a wild mane of dark curls and waves hanging past his shoulders as he leans his weight against the frame of the door, allowing it to remain open as he drapes an elbow over the metal. He drums his fingers against his lips in a slow rhythm as he pretends to ponder the question, dark nail polish harsh against his pale skin, “Because you woke me up at seven in the morning on my day off to run a weird errand for Harrington.. Because I snuck in to the butcher to get it.. And, ah shit.. What was the last reason..? Oh! Because I said so.” He finishes loudly, finally moving to slam the car door shut.

The next few seconds pass in a bit of a blur — everything happens so quickly. Steve watches the door collide with the longer-haired boy's face with a painful sounding thud. The resulting blood that begins to pour from his nose comes all too quickly, and Steve only processes what's happened enough to offer a wince in sympathy. It takes longer than it should for him to realize that he should perhaps be concerned about you.

With a slight delay, Steve turns to face you with wide eyes and finds your pretty lips are parted in desperation, an unfocused glassy look in your eyes as your own gaze flickers between Steve and the scene in the driveway behind him.

“Eddie, shit. You okay?” The boy at the other side of the vehicle is saying as Steve begins to usher you back into the house with his hands at your biceps, “Wha- Steve where the hell're you going!”

The boy's call remains unanswered as Steve instead leads you backwards down the hallway and into a room past the kitchen.

“Steve.” You whisper hoarsely, throat burning so severely it feels like it's been set aflame.

“I know, honey. Shit. I know, I know.”

The front door slams shut in the distance, disgruntled murmuring voices edging into the house and making Steve curse under his breath. He brings a wide palm up to cover the expanse of your mouth and nose, his other hand still dragging soft along your upper arm.

“Not a vampire, huh?” Steve jokes weakly, “Y'sure about that?”

Your brows pinch as you narrow your eyes at him and frown beneath his hand.

“Steve, c'mon man where do you keep the tissues!” A voice calls in annoyance.

“Hold the fuck on, Henderson!” Steve yells back over his shoulder, before refocussing on you, “You're okay, it's gonna be okay. Just stay here and I'll get them to leave and it'll all be fine. Deep breaths- No, shit, fuck, no deep breaths. Forget I said that. Just..”

You make a small sound against his palm and he gives you a weak, apologetic wince of a smile.

“Don't kill my friends, alright? Please. Just stay here, okay? I'll be back.”

He's gone in a flash, battered wooden door latching shut behind him and leaving you holding your breath to keep the foggy haze of your hunger at bay. Your stomach twists sharply as the voices on the other side of the door pick up and you reach up to cover your mouth and nose with your own smaller hands as you fight the urge to breathe in the sweet coppery scent of fresh blood that you know must be wafting through the house already.

You manage to resist for perhaps twenty-five agonizing seconds before your shaking hands slacken a bit over your face and a deep breath fills your lungs. The potency of the blood in your chest wracks your body, a hazy darkness creeping into the edges of your vision as your hand blindly reaches for the doorknob. You move down the hallway unthinkingly and friendly, bickering conversation comes to an abrupt stop as three sets of eyes focus on you.

The lingering glances to your borrowed clothes are anything but subtle. One of the boys, Eddie, raises his eyebrows in approval even as he keeps a hand cupped over his nose in a weak attempt to staunch the flow of blood. The other boy, shorter and softer at the edges, gapes incredulously as he drops a thick tupperware bowl onto the coffee table, his narrowed gaze drifting to where Steve was looking at you in wide-eyed panic.

“You have a girl over?” The shortest of the boys asks in disbelief, “Are you shitting me? Dude, come on. You're not seriously trying to rush us out after making a delivery like this, no questions asked, so you can get laid for what evidently wouldn't even be the first time-”

Steve ignores him as you move toward Eddie with single-minded determination and that worryingly glassy look in your eyes. Steve's hand just misses your shoulder as you pass, catching only air while your own hand grasps Eddie's wrist to ogle at the blood staining his palm.

“Honey, honey, maybe-”

“Aw, you jealous Stevie boy?” Eddie laughs, his voice congested around the blood clogging up his nasal passages, “That's cute. Maybe if you're real nice, I'll punch you before me and Dustin leave and then you two crazy kids can play doctor- oof-”

The teasing cuts off when you give him an unnaturally strong shove toward the couch. Eddie flails a bit as he falls onto the lumpy cushions, and you're perching yourself atop of him in the blink of an eye, your thighs pinning his arms against his own lap beneath you. He stares a up at you in stunned confusion, the black of your pupils blown wide and a sort of terrifying beauty in your features that seems to render him paralyzed both mentally and physically for a moment.

Your mind swims with how nice the blood smells from this close, how warm it feels in the air against your skin, prickling and sparking along your spine and prompting goosebumps of elation to creep up the back of your neck.

“Harrington,” Eddie acknowledges with a hint of amusement as his regains a bit of composure, he nods his head vaguely to the person who has sequestered his lap and trapped his hands in the process, “Is, uh.. This your girl?”

Steve ignores him in favor of placing a slow, gentle hand on your shoulder from behind. He watches you run your thumb over the small scrape across Eddie's chin, watches your eyes flutter closed as you lean closer and swipe a finger through the fresh blood that's dripping from his nose down to his upper lip.

“Hey, honey..” Steve begins cautiously, swallowing past a nervous lump in his throat when you shake off his hand on your shoulder and bring your bloodstained fingers up toward your mouth, “Remember what we talked about.. Maybe we should-”

“Oh, she's fuckin' weird, man,” Eddie is chuckling in confusion all the while, though his smile never fades, “I think I like her-”

Dustin watches on in disgust as you slip those bloody fingers past your own lips and suck, and suddenly everyone's eyes are on you, awaiting your reaction with varying emotions — confusion, disgust, horror.

Your brows furrow as you take in the taste of it, the immediate warmth and sweetness on your tongue is quickly overpowered by something sour, a sharp tang that makes you gag. You push Eddie back against the couch as you scramble from his lap, tripping in your haste and falling into Steve's waiting arms.

“Dude,” Eddie is saying, “She's actually a freak, and I mean that in the best way-”

“What the hell?” Dustin cries as he swallows down a gag of his own.

The sour stench of Eddie's blood lingers at the back of your throat and you retch again, gazing up at Steve with an expression he's yet to see on your face. Your eyes are wide and pleading, lips parted as you try to breathe in his scent to counteract the blood coating the back of your tongue.

Steve rubs at your upper arms in a soothing motion, relieved that for whatever reason, you didn't kill his friend.

“Steve,” You whisper hoarsely, “He tastes terrible.”

You sound horrified by the fact and Steve tuts softly, though the quiet noise is drowned out by Eddie's scoff of disbelief.

“Oh, well excuse me.” The sarcasm that drips from his voice doesn't go unnoticed as he tugs at the collar of his shirt to wipe the rest of the blood from under his nose.

“Steve.” You plead again as you tug on his shirtsleeve, you're not sure what you want him to do about the horrible taste in your mouth, but you find that you're willing to beg if he can make it go away.

“What the hell is going on? Steve?” Dustin demands sharply, “Are you planning on explaining any time soon?”

Eddie raises two fingers in the air, dark nail polish contrasting against his pale skin, “I'd like to know that too.”

Steve's eyes meet yours for a brief moment before you're tucking back into his neck and he's heaving a sigh.

“Right.. So, uh-”

Steve explains the events of your morning together and his theories, urging you to speak up every now and then to give your own take on things. Eddie and Dustin's arguments grow increasingly eager throughout the whole thing as they debate whether you might be a vampire or a demon, whether you hailed from the underworld and were cast out or simply had memory loss, what foods you might be able to sustain yourself on that wouldn't involve human flesh-

Some of their ponderings eventually fill your head with brief flashes, memories dragged to the surface that you attempt to explain despite what little you know. You tell them about the hazy recollections of a boy stripping you down until you were bare before him, how he'd ignored your slurred pleas for him to stop. The fuzzy image of him standing above you. His demands for the devil to bestow upon him each of his painfully shallow desires; popularity, sex, money. He'd demanded those things in exchange for the life of a virgin, your life, and you'd been given no opportunity to dispel his assumptions before he'd plunged the knife into your stomach, your ribs, your chest.

Perhaps you died, perhaps your didn't, but you remember the earth-shattering roar that had filled the forest just before a power unlike anything you'd ever felt began to thrum in your veins. You fondly recall the euphoria of that cruel, selfish boy's flesh beneath your teeth and the warmth of his blood trickling down your throat.

Rage burns in Steve's chest as you recount what you can remember of what happened to you. His hands ball into fists, knuckles aching with the fury he feels at the thought of you naked and vulnerable and begging for your life.

At some point in the chaos, around the time that the ache in your head begins to pulse, Steve ushers everyone into the kitchen and the unsuspecting tupperware that the two boys had delivered is pried open.

You stare down at the dark liquid inside with a slight crinkle in your nose, leaning a bit closer to try to get a read on the dull scent coming from the cold contents.

“Sweetheart you tackled me onto the sofa to get some of my blood only to announce that it tasted like shit ten seconds later,” Eddie chuckles with incredulity at your skepticism, “Now you got a whole bowl of blood in front of you and.. What? Nothing..?”

Your gaze goes to Steve rather than the boy who had spoken to you, your own eyes meeting golden brown. His warm palm rests over your hand where it's splayed on the countertop in front of the plastic bowl, his fingers giving a reassuring squeeze to pair with the quick upward tick at the corners of his lips.

“It just.. It doesn't really smell like much of anything,” You offer up hesitantly with a shake of your head, “No. No, it- That's not true. I mean, it smells like blood, it just.. The nuances aren't there?”

“What sort of nuances?” Dustin urges curiously, Eddie nodding wildly as they both eagerly await your elaboration.

“I-I don't..” You're drawn to Steve once again, like a magnet is pulling you in and guiding your gaze toward him at every turn.

“Take a second to think about it,” Steve urges softly.

You do with your brows drawn together and your head tipping to the side as you try to piece together the words to explain, “Well, Eddie's blood, for instance- It.. It smelled.. Warm. I could feel it on my tongue before I even tasted it. Just smelling it gave me.. chills — the good kind. Like, shiver down your spine-”

“Orgasmic,” Eddie pipes in with an amused little grin that prickles at Steve's nerves, “I believe the word you're looking for to describe how I smell is ‘orgasmic’, if those shivers I sent down your spine are to be taken into accou- Ow!”

Steve reaches over to smack Eddie into silence, the blow delivered to the other boy's shoulder with a bit more strength behind it than perhaps he intended.

“Stop talkin' shit,” Steve reprimands before grumbling under his breath, “Not givin' her fuckin' orgasms, fuckin' asshole.”

“How about both of you idiots fucking focus,” Dustin scolds in annoyance. His eyes roll hard beneath the shadow of the brim of his cap and then he's focussing back on you, “So Eddie's blood smelled good but tasted bad. This smells bad so.. maybe that means it'll taste good!”

“It didn't taste bad initially,” You shrug, still eyeing the undisclosed animal blood warily, “It was more the aftertaste.. It was, I don't know, sour or, like-”

“The pothead tasted bad, imagine that..” Steve mutters to himself.

“Holy shit. Steve you might actually be right about something!” Dustin exclaims with a wide grin.

“I might?” Steve repeats in confusion, eyebrows pinching together before he shakes himself off with a crooked grin that doesn't come off nearly as nonchalant as he is aiming for, “I mean, yeah, sure, totally. But, uh, what exactly am I right about?”

“Weed!” Dustin says like it should be obvious, turning toward the longer haired boy, “Eddie, when was the last time you smoked?”

Eddie looks between the three of you with wide eyes shining with innocence, “I, uh… Before bed. So, I guess, like, three-ish?”

“So.. The aftertaste was.. marijuana?” Steve says in slow disbelief.

“Smoking a bowl before bed seriously saved my life?” Eddie whispers suddenly.

“How does this information help.. This,” You poke at the plastic container with your index finger, the dark liquid sloshing slowly with movement, “Whatever this is- Taste better? It smells like a cup of water filled with pennies.”

“We could warm it up.” Dustin shrugs.

The four of you exchange shrugs of indifference as if to say, ‘why not?’ and then Steve has the contents of the container in a pot on the stove. He stirs it slowly as it warms and you hover at his back, chin hooked over his shoulder as the smell coming off of the dark liquid slowly grows more and more appealing.

Your fingers dig a little harshly into the softness at his hips when the burn in your throat grows too painful and he acknowledges your warning with a soft bump of his temple against your own as he flicks off the burner. A small bit of space is driven between you but Steve is turning and pushing a warm mug into your hands before you can make more than a small noise of protest.

The ceramic is warm against your palms, the heat coming off of the animal blood meeting your face when you bring the lip of the mug up to your mouth. You take a cautious sip, wary beneath the heavy weight of the gazes focussed so intently on your reaction.

Your eyes slip shut unconsciously, a low moan sounding in your throat at that first taste. The warmth of the blood dances along your tastebuds pleasantly, sweet and thick and delicious as it soothes the ache in your throat nearly instantly. Your gut twists in euphoric delight as you tip the mug further, swallowing down it's contents in desperate gulps.

Steve takes the mug from your hands and refills it without prompt once you reach the bottom, placing it back in your hands gently. His eyes follow your movements, watching intently as you hurriedly bring the cup back to your lips, sipping the dark liquid a bit slower, savoring it this time around.

“How is it?” Steve asks gently.

“She's drinking the stuff like her life depends on it, Steve, what the hell d’you think?” Dustin scoffs.

“Vampire girl likes cow's blood,” Eddie pumps one fist in the air in triumph, draping an arm heavily over Dustin's shoulders and ruffling the hat atop the boys head of curls, “I think we did good, Henderson.”

Steve ignores his friends in favor of placing a large hand against the steadily warming skin of your cheek, “Honey?” He urges.

“‘S good,” You promise with red-stained lips, shuffling forward into Steve's chest and nuzzling your head beneath his jaw for a moment to take in his already familiar scent. It's still mildly uncomfortable, the way it fights to itch at your throat despite the way the blood has soothed the burn, but there's also something comforting about his scent as it settles in your chest now.

Conversation picks up again between the two boys behind you. Steve's arm curls tight around your back, his weight resting against the countertop as he allows you to lean into his chest. Your body grows warmer with each sip of blood that passes your lips, a slow-growing, white flame building in your gut as the hunger ebbs and the soothing scent of Steve fills your lungs.

When you finish off your second helping, you set the mug down with a quiet clink, your eyes drawn to where Steve had set the pot of warmed blood aside on the counter. Steve's thick fingers are drumming idly against the surface, and the sight has you feeling a little overwhelmed. The hunger swirling in your gut now is vastly different from what had been fueling your actions earlier, a desperate tug of arousal making your stomach flip.

Dustin and Eddie no longer exist in your mind. You're far too busy grabbing a hold of Steve's hand, your smaller fist wrapping around his own and manipulating his movements until you can dip his index and ring fingers into the pot that's been slowly cooling against the countertop. Thick drops of deep crimson drip down the side of his wrist as it re-emerges. A zig-zagging line curves around the small bump of bone connecting to his forearm and your eyes can focus on nothing else. The world around you fades nothing more than a dull echo as you automatically crowd closer to Steve to collect the dripping blood with your lips and tongue.

All three boys watch the turn of events with bated breath. When your eyes flick up to meet Steve's again, a distant fog seems to have glazed over your eyes again.

“Gross..” Dustin assesses quietly.

“Hot.” Eddie disagrees immediately and vehemently.

Steve doesn't manage more than a weak croak at the back of his throat while he watches the your tongue poke out in an attempt to clean some of the dark liquid from your own lips.

“Steve.” You say softly, parted lips glistening and red.

“Yeah?” He asks in a high rasp.

You mean to respond, you do, but you're distracted by another drop of blood falling down the side of his hand and your words never come, silenced by the way you dart forward to capture it before it can reach his wrist.

“What, uh. What'd'you need, honey?” He asks as steadily as he can. His cock is already beginning to press against the zip on the inside of his jeans and he desperately wills himself to calm down.

“Need you.” You murmur with your lips against the blood-soaked tips of his fingers. You guide his hand until you can take the digits into your mouth.

Steve nearly chokes as his fingers are engulfed in the heat of your mouth, a choked sound crackling up his throat when the soft pad of your tongue flicks against them as you suck them clean.

“Leave.” Steve commands his friends without ever looking away from your mouth.

“Dude, are you serious?” Dustin exclaims, smacking Eddie's shoulder in disbelief, “He can't be serious!”

Your tongue pushes between his fingers, the warmth of the muscle nearly causing Steve's knees to buckle. His own tongue feels suddenly dry as it lays heavy in his mouth, his cock achingly thick and hard in his pants already.

“You boys should leave,” You say softly, tongue poking out to lick away the blood at the edges of your lips while your fingers remain wrapped tight around Steve's wrist, “Unless, of course, you'd like to watch?” You tease with a frightening grin.

Eddie meets your gaze with a wide-eyed look, “Well, sweetheart, as a matter of fact-”

“Nope, we're leaving!” Dustin interrupts, already dragging Eddie from the kitchen by the collar of his shirt, “Steve, be smart, alright? Don't make me regret this. Please don't die-”

Eddie shouts something vulgar that you don't quite catch over his shoulder just as the front door slams shut. The resulting silence is thick with sexual tension, Steve's pretty, doe-eyed gaze glued to where your lips are still pressed softly against the pads of his fingers.

When you collide it's in a frantic rush, wandering hands slipping beneath clothes and backsides slamming against walls. Distracted steps lead the both of you down the hallway, Steve's shirt discarded carelessly along the way the moment that the opportunity to do so is presented to you.

Your fingertips scrape through the soft brown curls littering his chest while Steve's mouth finds your jaw and neck, a tiny trail of damp kisses left in his wake. A light suck at your pulse point has a moan slipping past your lips, your feet tripping over the tops of his own as you corral him back into the bedroom where he'd hidden you away earlier.

The backs of Steve's knees meet the mattress and it only takes a weak shove from your unnaturally strong hands to have him toppling back onto the bed. Breath wooshes from his lungs and he watches intently while you crawl on top of him, your hands tracing the lines of his chest in a slow, deliberate touch before finding the sharp line of his jaw.

When Steve's gaze finally meets the intensity of your own he finds your pupils blown unnaturally wide, the color of your irises nothing but a thin sliver at the very edges of a sea of endless black.

His tongue meets the roof of his mouth as he makes to say something, anything, but the words are lost when your lips smash into his with an impatient tinge of hunger. A surprised moan gets caught in his throat for a moment before your hand falls to the bulging zip in his jeans, delicate fingers palming at his cock. He does moan then, embarrassingly loud and needy, though the sound is swallowed up by your own mouth as you use his parted lips as an opportunity lick inside of his mouth.

Your tongue is warm and wet — still dripping with the thick, coppery tang of blood mixed with something sickly sweet that he thinks might just be the intoxicating taste of your own spit.

It should be disgusting. The taste of the blood on your tongue should have his stomach twisting and his gag reflex triggering, but it does neither of those things. There's no real way to be sure whether it's some sort of otherworldly allure that you're emitting, or if he's simply so attracted to you that it's turned him into a fucking freak, but his cock is growing painfully hard beneath his jeans faster than it ever has in his goddamn life and the taste as your tongue strokes his own only seems to speed things along further.

Steve has one hand braced behind him to keep his chest pressed solidly against yours as you writhe and roll your hips down against the back of the hand you have teasing at the front of his jeans. The noises you're letting out have him a little dizzy, his blood rushing south in response to each pretty sound that you let fall into his pliant mouth.

Your hands scramble to undo the button and work tight denim down Steve's thighs, but you're eventually forced to extricate yourself from his lap to fully remove them, a tangled heap of denim and the cotton of his boxer briefs thrown to the other side of the room in another brief display of your slightly unnatural strength.

“Fuck.” Steve breathes when instead of climbing back into his lap after hastily removing your own clothes, you crawl toward him and settle between his knees. You blink up at him with dark eyes, crimson now smeared messily over your perfect lips, and Steve's cock all but jumps when his muscles tighten at the sight.

“I'm gonna suck your cock-” You tell him as the backs of your fingers just graze the length of his aching erection. Your gaze is locked on the thickness of him, hungrily eyeing the pulsing vein on the underside, the weeping slit where a string of precome is already shining over the head from just the light brush of your hand and the look in your eyes. “Because I need to taste you. But then I'm going to need you to fuck me.”

Your eyes finally flick up to meet his, and Steve is nodding wildly, “Yes, yeah! Okay, that's.. That sounds g-holyfuckingshit!” He groans through a gasp.

You don't savor in a tentative lick, don't even suck lightly at the tip like he's had girls do in the past to ease into it. You wrap your lips around his cock and immediately move to swallow down several inches of him, your throat tightening around the sensitive head as you gag yourself on his thick length.

You can smell the arousal seeping from each and every pore on his body, growing stronger and more intoxicating with every bob of your head and flick of your tongue. You hadn't thought it was possible, but it's a thousand times more delicious than his fear had been. It burns along your senses and prickles down the length of your spine until your head is a strange mix of hyper-focussed yet fuzzy at the edges.

Steve has to fight to keep his eyes from pinching shut in pleasure, to keep his head from falling back to bring his gaze to the ceiling. Missing even a single second of the sight of your lips wrapped around his cock feels like a crime of biblical proportions, so instead he brings shaking hands to your hollowed cheeks, collecting your hair until he can fist it in one hand. He whines pitifully at the unobstructed view of the drool and blood that your efforts have pooling at the base of his cock.

“Oh, holy shit,” Steve groans, his thumb stroking lightly over the edges of your lips as you pull off.

The second your mouth is occupied with only sucking at the tip, his thumb is pushing through the mess of blood and spit to hook past your lips alongside his cock. You don't stop working your mouth at the intrusion, rather, you expand your efforts to include the finger now rubbing at the inside of your cheek. Your tongue slides over the tip of his thumb before swirling around his leaking head, your jaw open as wide as it can go while you suck at every part of him that's stretching your mouth.

“Ah, fuck, you gotta-” Steve is whining, and he'd be embarrassed about it if he had the brain capacity to do anything aside from trying desperately not to come. His balls are drawn so tight, his cock is throbbing in the heat of your mouth with the need for release, "Honey, honey, I need you to stop or I'm gonna come in that pretty mouth and that-" He heaves a great sigh of pained relief when you pull off with a wet pop, "That would be a fucking travesty, because I really really wanna be inside you.”

You're wiping your mouth and chin off on the back of your hand, the lust-hazy weight of his gaze sparking a glimmer in your own.

“What are you waiting for then?” A smile pulls at the corners of your mouth even as your teeth dig sharply into your lower lip.

You're dragged up onto his lap in a rush, flipped onto your back until he's hovering over your naked body, his warm hands smoothing over every bit of your skin that he can. His eyes are clouded with arousal as wide palms trace the curve of your waist, the softness of your belly, the plush of your breasts.

Your legs part on instinct and his eyes drop at the movement, lips parting with his slack jaw as the wet seam of your cunt is exposed to him.

“Oh, fuck, honey,” Steve manages in a breathless murmur, “Jesus, look at you. Oh, holy shit, you're so wet.”

Thick fingers come within an inch of dragging through your folds before you're snatching his wrist with a firm grip and tugging him forward. He lands atop of you with a huff, one arm forced to brace behind your head and the other falling to rest on the side of your waist. You're settling him with a scathing look and he chokes on a shaky breath that fans out over your face.

His cock is hot and heavy against your lower belly, thick and long and curving up toward your navel. It still shines lightly with spit and blood and precome and your mouth nearly waters at the sight, your cunt clenching around nothing at just the thought of finally getting it inside of you.

“What?” He asks in confusion, “Was just gonna get you ready with my fingers. Should do that first, right? We don't want you hurting-”

“Now,” You demand, voice coming out leagues weaker and more desperate than intended, “I want you now. Need you. Now.”

“Fuck, I- Shit, okay, okay.” Steve gives in with wide eyes.

When he reaches down to line himself up with your sopping entrance, his hand is shaking so hard that he has half a mind to be embarrassed. But then his gaze flicks up to meet your own just as he begins to push his hips forward, and the flutter of your lashes in response to the stretch of his cock makes it a little hard for him to focus on anything other than how he might be able to make your eyes roll back again, or what euphoric expressions he's yet to see take over your beautiful face.

Once he's fully sheathed, he draws back and drives back in sharply, watching in awe as your jaw falls slack and you cry out.

“Just like that,” You gasp in approval, spine arching as you try to better the angle his hard thrusts to hit at just the right spot, “Shit, yes. Steve, fuck!”

The room is filled with the slick sounds of his cock as it works in and out of your cunt, the dull slap of his hips and hairy thighs meeting the insides of you own, the protesting creak of his bed frame as its joints struggle beneath all of the movement. Steve's breathing picks up just a little more with each thrust, a gasp turned groan working its way up his throat when you tangle a hand in the hairs that curl at the nape of his neck to drag him down for a kiss that's more tongue and teeth than anything else.

The barely there remnants of blood in your mouth meets Steve's tastebuds once again when he freely licks inside to capture the soft sounds falling from your lips and his cock twitches within your walls, brain spinning with just how perfect you feel and taste and sound.

“Fuck,” He pants into your waiting mouth, “You feel so fucking good, honey. S-Squeezing me so tight. Feels so fuckin' good, better'n anything I've ever felt.”

Each word of praise is dripping with his arousal when it meets the inside of your mouth, thick and delicious and a sort of cloying sweetness that reminds you of honey as it coats the back of your throat like a salve. The sounds falling from his mouth in combination with the sharp tang of his arousal that clings to the air with every breath you take — it has your head spinning. The low rasp of his moans sparks pleasure along your spine while the wet drag of his cock ignites the white-burning flame in the pit of your gut.

Despite his hooded eyelids, you can see how his own pupils have blown wide, those pretty pools of swirling brown overtaken with a darkness that leaves them looking so similar to your own.

“You're perfect,” Steve groans against your tongue, “So, so pretty right now, baby. Look so goddamn pretty taking my cock.”

His voice is ragged, desperate as his arms slip beneath your spine to press as close as he can. You're craving his touch just as much though, and it has you rolling your hips desperately to meet his. Your lips come together again in a frenzied collision, heightened arousal only causing that simmering need that pushes you cling to one another to boil over. Chest to chest, tongue on tongue, skin on skin.

The coarse hairs on his chest catch against your peaked nipples with every sharp jerk of his hips, his belly dragging against your own as your eyes roll back on a particularly well-angled thrust.

“Oh, fuck,” You moan against his lips, fingers carding through the unreasonably soft strands of his hair.

Every inch where you're connected feels alight with flames. It feels as if nothing exists beyond this. Your mind is nothing more than a steady repetition of Steve, Steve, Steve — and you don't think that it's merely the sex. You think this might simply be the way that things will be from now on. Just you and Steve. His touch and taste and his fucking smell create a truly intoxicating combination, you want him like this always. Cheeks and neck pink and flushed with blood, glistening with sweat, panting and grunting and whining in response to your body.

Your orgasm is so, so close. You're already bearing down on him, muscles taught and brain a little fuzzy. The fingers in his hair tighten, the nails of your free hand scraping down his spine and leaving behind a trail of red streaks along the freckled expanse of his back. The sting drags another guttural moan from Steve's lips and your cunt flutters around him when your belly flips in response.

“God, honey,” Steve whispers in nearly a plea, hips jerking as he tries to keep a good rhythm going for you, “You close? ‘Cause I don’t know how much longer I can- Fuck.”

His scent at this very moment is unlike anything you've ever experienced. It's heady and a little overwhelming, but so fucking delicious — if you could, you'd bottle it up just so that you could get a quick whiff of it whenever you wanted. The syrupy sweet arousal in the air only continues to thicken, filling up the air with each shaky thrust of his hips.

“God. Fill me up, Steve. Please?” You murmur with a groan as he punches deep into that spot that has your toes curling, your cunt sending a rush of slick arousal down the length of his cock and balls. “Want you to come, sweet boy. Need it. ‘n I need you to give it to me.”

“Fucking, s-shit-” Steve moans in response, hips stuttering and warmth filling you from the inside out as his cock jerks and he loses control, “Gonna.. Fucking..” A beautifully wrecked sounding moan interrupts him, “Gonna f-fuck my come so, so deep, honey.”

His slurred words have you keening, the thatch of pubic hair at the base of his cock rubbing in a rough drag against the swollen bud of your clit when his thrusts melt into nothing more than deep grinds of his cock against your fluttering walls. The tight coil in your gut twists and stretches and then snaps suddenly, the tight vice that accompanies your own orgasm milking him for every drop he has to give.

He collapses against you once you've both drawn out your climaxes for as long as you possibly can, his temple pressed to your cheek. Your combined labored breathing fills the silence.

The warmth of Steve's sweaty skin is heaven, his weight pressing you into the mattress feeling so comforting and right that it leaves you feeling a little overwhelmed. His scent settles into something a little less obtrusive as he comes down, something that rushes into your lungs and curls sweetly in your chest.

Your hand cards soft through the damp locks of his hair, your lips finding his dewy skin to press a soft kiss to that space on his temple where you can feel his pulse throbbing softly with each beat of his heart. When Steve presses a gentle kiss to the edge of your jaw in response to your own, you can't help the swarm of butterflies that erupt in your stomach.

This sweet, handsome, recklessly kind young man that you're lucky enough to have in your arms.. You reckon that you might have to stick close to him — you think, perhaps a bit foolishly and entirely too hopefully, that you'd quite like to keep him.

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