#so it's not like this would be impossible

[lovelybucky1]

clark kent has a big fucking dick. he's well aware of it, having been told since he was in high school, changing in the locker rooms after football practice. the girls that he's been with complimented his size, staring at it with awe and a little bit of fear before trying so swallow as much as they can handle. clark knows his dick is big, which is why it didn't come as a surprise to him when you weren't able to take it.

he had you on your back, legs bent and your feet dug into the soft mattress. he was on his knees between your legs, his impressive, otherworldly length aimed at your soaked pussy. he warmed you up with his fingers and his mouth, and he warned that it would be a lot to take, but you were determined.

he began to push in, his thick tip bullying its way through your soft insides. he went slow, making you feel every inch of him and giving you time to adjust. but when he hit your cervix, your back arched and you instinctively squirmed away, scooting yourself up the mattress towards the headboard. he pulls out of you so you don't hurt yourself, and he smiles down at you, giving you that handsome, blinding, all-american grin.

"don't run, honey. you can take it, i promise."

and you do. he coaxes you through it, giving you another orgasm before he even has all of it inside. you're impossibly full, feeling like you could burst, but every time he pulls out a bit, emptiness aches in your belly.

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine being Sylus' non-mc fiance. Hidden Child au. part2

Imagine meeting you was never part of the plan.

Imagine he walked into that club on a whim. He hadn't stepped into a place like that in years. It wasn't his kind of scene anymore. But Mephisto had been running his mouth about something in Zone N109's underbelly, about a person worth watching. So Sylus went. Not because he cared. But because something about the way Mephisto kept talking made him want to shut him up.

Imagine seeing you. He didn't catch your name. Not at first. Just a blur of tired eyes, practiced laughter, that hollow sound people wore like armor. You looked like someone who had learned how to survive not to live, just survive.

Imagine he wasn't supposed to get involved. But then you looked at him. And he stopped. Completely.

Imagine he didn't know why he brought you home. He didn't know why he stayed after the first night when it had always been just one and done. But when the sun started to rise and you stirred under the sheets, Sylus found himself watching you breathe. And before he could stop himself, he said the words. "I need a lover."

Imagine you looked half asleep, confused. Still dreaming, maybe. But you said yes. And Sylus felt something tighten in his chest.

Imagine he didn't understand it. He didn't want to understand it. But something about the way you agreed so quietly, so unflinchingly felt like the beginning of something he couldn't name.

Imagine maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was fate. But he gave you his name. Left you his black card. Told you to quit your job and wait for him. And two nights later you did.

Imagine years passed. Sylus kept you close. You were at his side at galas, exhibitions, political dinners. You smiled when you had to, played your role to perfection. Wore everything he gave you. The diamonds, the silk, the title.

Imagine you never asked for more. But he saw it. In your silences. In the way your eyes lingered when he wasn't looking. You didn't just play the part. You were waiting. For something. For him. And Sylus, heartless, calculated Sylus didn't know how to give you what you wanted. So he gave you what he could. Everything but love.

Imagine the night it changed.

Imagine you were curled up on the couch in his office, asleep again. Waiting for him to finish work. The storm outside was relentless, thunder shaking the windows. But you were still. Peaceful. And something broke inside him.

Imagine he stood there for too long, staring. Realizing. If you ever left, he wouldn't survive it. So he walked over. Pressed a kiss to your forehead. Sat beside you and, for once, stayed until morning.

Imagine he always thought he'd know when it happened that falling in love would feel like lightning, or fire, or blood. Something violent. Something impossible to ignore. But it didn't.

Imagine it felt like this. You standing in his office, biting your lip, eyes lowered in guilt because you touched that painting. The one he told you not to. The only thing in the room he had once considered untouchable. "You touched it?" You flinched. "No- well yes..." He narrowed his eyes. "What did I tell you-?" "It was an accident! I didn't mean to-" You cut yourself off, lips pressing shut. As if you were swallowing more than just words. Something about the way your hands curled into fists. Like you were protecting someone. You always did that. Even when it wasn't smart.

Imagine in that moment, Sylus knew it wasn't just the painting. It was you covering for those goddamn twins, wasn't it? He should've been mad. He was mad, in a way. But not at the painting. Not at you.

Imagine he was angry at the part of him that hesitated. The part of him that looked at you. Wide eyed, apologetic, still standing in the same room with the same warmth you always carried and couldn't bring himself to yell. He didn't want to hurt you. Not even with words. And that scared the hell out of him.

"I see." You looked up. "Look, Sylus- I'm really sorry-" "Get out." You froze. "Don't come into my office for a while." Your shoulders dropped. And for the first time in years, Sylus regretted something immediately after saying it. Because he saw how it broke you a little. And that was when it hit him.

Imagine he loved you. Not because you were perfect. Not because you played your role flawlessly. But because you touched the one thing he thought he'd never let go of and instead of rage, all he felt was fear.

Imagine the fear that you might think he loved someone else more. Fear that he might lose you over it. Fear that the past might have the power to hurt you. He sat with that fear for days. For a week, exactly. And then he removed the painting.

Imagine a week later, you walk into the office again. He barely looked up from his desk, but he saw you pause. Saw your eyes search the wall. "Where's the painting?" You blurted, and then instantly winced. Sylus leaned back in his chair. Calm. Controlled. Heart beating faster anyway. "I had it removed." You looked at him like he just confessed to murder. "What? Why?"

"It doesn't fit the style of the room." He said smoothly, voice level. "Don't you think?" You blinked. "We- well yes..." His office was all deep wood and shadow, the kind of place people whispered about. The painting never matched. He just kept it because... Because it used to matter. But not more than you. "Shall we go look for a replacement?" You blinked again. "I'm sorry- what?" "The painting. Let's find another one."

Imagine he didn't tell you it was because of you. That he couldn't stand the idea of you walking into this room and being reminded you didn't come first. He just stood, adjusting his cufflinks. "Also, Luke and Kieran said there's a new restaurant nearby." "...Sylus, are you asking me out?" There was a pause. A long one. Then. "Aren't you my fiancée?" He asked, brow raised like it was the most natural thing in the world. "There's no need to state the obvious." Your jaw dropped. Again. Sylus almost smiled.

Imagine Sylus realizing quietly, fully that he would burn his past to the ground if it meant you stayed. That this wasn't about paintings, or power, or control. It was about you. He loved you. And for the first time in his life he wasn't afraid of it.

Imagine the way the past came back. MC. They said she was alive. Impossible. Sylus remembered the grave. The cold hand. The dirt beneath his nails. The silence that came after her death. The way it hollowed him out. So who the hell was this woman claiming to be her?

Imagine he didn't tell you. He couldn’t. Things between you had just started to shift. You smiled more. Laughed around him. Touched him without flinching. You were finally letting him in. And he was finally reaching back. He couldn't risk losing that. So he investigated alone.

Imagine letting MC in. He didn't believe her.

but Imagine if pretending to care meant uncovering the truth then so be it. He let her believe. Let her call him love again. Let her think she was winning.

Imagine all while keeping you in the dark. Because you were different. You were real. And if he could just end it cleanly, silently... He could return to you. He could fix what he hadn't even realized was broken.

Imagine she asked him to kill you. Just like that. Like it was nothing. His blood went cold. She said it sweetly. Too sweetly. Like a test. Like she already knew what he'd say. Sylus laughed. Told her it was already done. That it was handled. She believed him. But in his mind, he was already planning her death.

Imagine by the time he had taken care of it, it was too late. You found out. You ran. And Sylus had tore the city apart looking for you. Sent his men. Called in every favor. Burned connections he'd spent decades building. But you were gone. Gone like smoke. Gone like vengeance.

Imagine he would've traded everything just to see you again. Just to tell you it wasn't what it looked like. That he loved you. That it had always been you.

Imagine nearly dying changed nothing. There was a hit. A trap. A bullet in the spine. And then, nothing. Four years. Four fucking years in a coma. And when he woke up, everything had moved on. Except him.

and Imagine you were still gone.

Imagine being dragged to a gala. Some formal garbage he didn't want to be part of. The suit was old. The tie loose. The glass of wine untouched. He was halfway out the door when something small collided with his leg. A child. Crying. Hood pulled low. Tiny hands over his forehead.

Imagine Sylus didn't care for kids. Never had. But something made him stop. Made him kneel. Made him look. And when the boy looked up with wide red eyes. Sylus stopped breathing.

Imagine realizing the truth. His eyes. Your hair. His blood. His son.

Imagine you appeared. Frantic. Breathless. Alive. You called to the boy. Rushed to him. Knelt beside him and checked his hands, his face. Pulled down the hood. And Sylus couldn't move. You looked at him. Really looked. And didn't recognize him.

"Sorry." You said gently. "I hope he didn't give you trouble...?" He answered, voice cracked. "Sylus." You blinked. "Right. Sylus." Like it was nothing more than a name. "Then if you'll excuse us." You added, guiding the boy by the hand. And you walked away.

Imagine the way Sylus stood there for minutes. Hours. Maybe years.

Imagine he had murdered kings. Crushed empires. Ripped the heart out of anyone who dared touch what was his. But for the first time. He didn't know what the hell to do. Because he had just seen everything he had ever loved and you looked at him like he was already dead.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2025°

: I deliver his pov.

[koogalaxzy]

big, bad boss | p. sunghoon

pairing: boss! sunghoon x fem. reader genre: smut, enemies to fwbs to (?) wc: 23k+ summary: You can handle Park Sunghoon’s insults, his impossible standards, even his hands all over you after hours. What you can’t handle? The possibility that the man you swore to never fall for might just be the only one you can’t let go of. content warnings: toxic sunghoon!! he’s so controlling in this but it’s hot so he gets a pass (from me). unprotected sex, public sex, angry sex, hate sex, desk sex, bathroom sex, basically ALL the sex lol. oral (fem receiving), fingering, use of sex toys, power imbalance, dom/sub dynamics, a little bit of humiliation kink, dirty talk, jealousy, possessiveness, slight dubcon (consensual but power-imbalanced). enemies-to-fwb-to-lovers. emotional constipation from literally everyone. cat mom reader & (eventually) cat dad sunghoon. brief pregnancy scare. pls do not look for healthy boundaries or communication in this fic, this is pure office filth. a bit of domestic vibes at the end. a/n: first sunghoon fic WHEW. this one’s been simmering for a while guys. literally came to me while watching the no doubt mv, i was like fawk he looks way too good in a suit… i need him in an office setting immediately. disclaimer: the way i write him here is absolutely not how i think he is irl. the only accurate thing is him being a neat freak lol. oh, and me calling him handsome 28473 times because… well, he is. anyways!! pls pls pls lmk what you think 🥺 and THANK YOU for all the love on my previous fic, the new follows, the asks—everything!!! *sends one million flying kisses through your screen*

Becoming important at a job you despise is… well, it’s definitely not a good feeling.

You're reminded of this unfortunate fact every single day at your corporate job, where even though the paycheck is attractive, you're constantly drowning under the immense pressure exerted by your jerk of a boss.

Park Sunghoon has exactly one redeeming quality and that is his stupidly handsome face. But everything else about him is so rotten, you can't even enjoy glancing at his perfect features without a bitter feeling pooling deep in your stomach, similar to the one you get moments before hurling.

You might be wondering what exactly he did to warrant this hatred. The better question would be, what hasn't he done? From your very first week, Sunghoon was a complete asshole who had you running to the bathroom in tears after he openly called your work "uninspired garbage" a "colossal waste of time," and even claimed that hiring someone so inexperienced was an insult to the company's standards.

Funnily enough, you managed to climb the ranks within just one year and found yourself working directly under him. Though you couldn't even celebrate your promotion because being closer to Sunghoon only multiplied your misery. It was safe to say your life was one big ball of stress thanks to him. 

So to cope you developed a rigorous self-care routine which consisted of pilates, drinking only decaffeinated beverages, attending overpriced meditation sessions, and even trying acupuncture.

But your favorite method to decompress involved channeling your frustrations toward the subject of all your afflictions. Sometimes that included taping his picture onto a punching bag and going absolutely feral.

Unfortunately (and embarrassingly) for you, not all your tension was purely angry…

Even if it hurt your soul to admit it your boss was exactly your type physically. Like, why the hell was he always scowling when he literally had the face of an angel? Really, nobody could blame you if your pent-up anger occasionally morphed into sexual frustration.

And yeah, you dealt with that too. Usually with your hands…and your collection of sex toys.

Which was exactly why you found yourself standing awkwardly in a discreet adult shop tucked away in the wealthier part of the city. You chose it because it was the farthest possible distance from your neighborhood, drastically reducing the chance of running into any nosy neighbors.

You shuffled curiously through the aisles, giggling at the sheer size of some toys. A few of them even had the word “monster” in the labels.

You currently had one of those ridiculous monster dildos in your hand wondering how anyone could possibly fit something like that inside them. You briefly considered taking it home, purely for research purposes, of course.

Just as you were inspecting the absurdly graphic details printed on the toy's box, someone stepped next to you way closer than necessary. Who stood this close to someone while browsing monster-sized dildos?

Giving them a subtle side glance, you realized it was a man. Tall enough that you could barely see beyond his chin without obviously staring. A black mask covered most of his face, obscuring his identity. You cleared your throat uncomfortably and walked away, an odd feeling tingling along your spine from the stranger's presence.

You browsed for a little while longer before deciding on just two items—the ridiculously gigantic dildo and a discreet rose toy. As you joined the checkout line, you noticed there was only one other person ahead of you, but unfortunately, she seemed to be having trouble with her card so it was taking a while.

The stranger from earlier joined the line directly behind you, making you sigh in irritation. Just your luck.

Your skin prickled uncomfortably as he stepped even closer, despite the line clearly not moving. Right. Your therapist had repeatedly emphasized setting clear boundaries, something you admittedly weren’t great at. Now seemed like a perfect time to practice that.

You turned abruptly, nostrils flaring with barely concealed anger. “Excuse me,” you snapped, emphasizing every syllable. “Have you never heard of personal space? You’re standing way too close, so if you could kindly step back, that would be great.”

He tilted his head slightly, eyes flickering downward to the giant dildo box you were still clutching tightly, then back up to your face as you tapped your foot impatiently. A soft snort escaped him. Was he mocking you?!

“Back off, jerk” you hissed the insult through gritted teeth before turning your back to him again.

“I can’t believe the first time you decide to stand up for yourself is in a sex shop.”

Do you know that dreadful feeling that washes over you right before disaster strikes?

That was exactly how you felt when you recognized that voice. A voice belonging to none other than your daily tormentor.

Slowly, you turned around again. He’d pulled his mask down and pushed his cap up, fully revealing his unfairly attractive face. A slight smile graced his lips, probably the first genuine smile you'd ever seen from him in the entire miserable year you'd known Park Sunghoon.

“Fucking hell…” you whispered, eyes growing to the size of saucers, knees feeling dangerously weak.

Your fight-or-flight instincts chose precisely that moment to kick in, and you reacted in possibly the worst way imaginable: you bolted. Unfortunately, you bolted with both unpaid items still in your hands.

You didn’t even realize your mistake until you were sitting in your car, chest heaving, heart hammering so hard you could hear it in your head. Panic clawed up your throat when you saw the items still clutched in your hand. With a strangled cry, you tossed the incriminating bag out your car window and drove away at breakneck speed, half-expecting sirens at any second.

Seriously, what were the odds of bumping into your boss at a sex you shop?!

The next morning you dragged yourself reluctantly into your workplace, looking as close to a corpse as humanly possible. You hadn’t slept at all, spending the entire night drafting your resignation letter. Forty different versions until you decided on one that didn’t seem too much like trauma dumping.

You had a million reasons to quit already, but after the mortifying nightmare of Sunghoon catching you holding a monster dildo box at a sex shop and calling him a jerk? Yeah, that one topped the list. 

Maybe this was just the universe finally screaming at you to do better for yourself.

Still, dread knotted in your stomach at the thought of suddenly being unemployed. Fucking Park Sunghoon… Did he ever get tired of ruining your life?

Your coworkers greeted you warmly as you walked past them, but several quickly stepped aside after seeing your vacant stare and pale complexion. You overheard hushed whispers: "Is she okay?" "She looks terrible”. You ignored them all.

Once you reached your boss’s office door, you paused, noticing how your hand trembled as you raised it to knock. Taking a shaky breath, you rapped twice.

“Come in,” he called, and you pushed open the door, wincing at its squeak. Had it always been that loud? Well, you wouldn't really know since you immediately dissociated every time you entered this office.

His dark eyes flickered upward, flashing briefly before he returned his attention to the files on his desk. “I hope that’s the corrected version of last week's report in your hand,” he said, pushing up his reading glasses.

God, why did he have to look so attractive in those stupid glasses? You wished he’d wear them more often, preferably in situations other than berating you. Shit—those sleepless nights must’ve fried your brain. You should feel nothing but deep, burning hatred toward this man right now. He was actively ruining your life!

“Erm…no. It’s actually—” You stepped forward hesitantly and placed the letter on his desk, sliding it towards him as if feeding a hungry lion, then stepping quickly away.

“A resignation letter?” he questioned impassively, picking up the envelope and glancing at your shaky handwriting on the envelope. There were definitely a few tear stains visible on the surface.

“Yes, sir. And I wanted to apologize sincerely for yesterday. It was extremely inappropriate of me. There are other reasons, too… they’re all listed in there.” Your voice practically died in your throat under his intense stare.

He sighed deeply and set the letter down without bothering to open it. “Y/N, can I be frank with you?” he started and you braced yourself. 

“You’re too stubborn, impulsive most of the time, overly emotional, defensive—”

Your jaw dropped open, ready to protest, but he held up a hand silencing you before you even started.

“But you’re also one of the hardest workers on this floor. You bring fresh ideas, you’re meticulous to a fault, you push the team to improve. A perfectionist like me… exactly what this company values.”

“If this is your way of convincing me to stay—”

“I’m not finished,” he interrupted sharply. “You’re all those things, sure. But one thing I never took you for was a coward.”

Your entire body went rigid with rage and it ignited so fast in your chest you could not stop the next words from coming out. “I am not a coward. I'm finally putting myself first! Do you honestly think you can say all those horrible things about me and then smooth it over with a couple of generic compliments? That’s not how this works! From day one you’ve made it your personal mission to make my work life miserable! And don’t even try feeding me some bullshit about seeing potential or trying to build my character or whatever ‘tough love’ corporate crap you're about to spew, because I won’t believe it for a second!”

You were shouting now, pretty sure everyone outside could probably hear you, but you’d reached a point beyond caring.

“And while we’re busy listing adjectives for each other,” you continued breathlessly, “let me tell you exactly what you are! You’re the most self-centered, sociopathic, egomaniacal, narcissistic, emotionally constipated, manipulative, control freak bastard I’ve ever known! I’m quitting because of you. I can't stand being here another second, because I can’t stand you!”

You stood there, chest heaving, waiting to see what the devil in designer glasses would do next.

His expression stayed maddeningly neutral until the faintest curl ghosted across his mouth. A smile? Why on earth was Park Sunghoon smiling? Had he finally lost it? Or had you? Because that was definitely a smirk, and now he was rising from his chair, closing the distance between you.

A million panic-scenarios flashed through your head. Maybe he just wanted to yell at you up close. Maybe he planned to throttle you on the spot. Murderer wasn’t even on the list of insults you’d hurled at him but—

“There she is,” he murmured darkly. “The pretty thing I saw in the sex shop. For a moment I doubted it was you… someone with that much fire, that much backbone. But here you are again.”

He stopped so close you could pick out the mint on his breath under the expensive cologne. Your brain was so scrambled you could do nothing but count every mole on his flawless skin, and notice the fact that he didn’t appear to have a single visible pore. What in the fresh hell was happening?

“Language,” he chided softly, apparently you’d spoken your confusion aloud. “Just because I let you scream at me doesn’t mean you can use whatever words you like.”

Warmth flooded your skin, and your tongue stuck to the roof of your dry mouth. What was this weird sensation? It felt as if you’d wandered into a dream, standing bare in a cage with a lion prowling around you. Sunghoon’s gaze was fiercer than ever.

“Uhm… I don’t understand—”

“Let me clarify.” His voice dropped into a velvety tone. “I won’t claim I never meant those things I said, but they weren’t out of malice. If anything, I wanted to see how far you could go before you stopped playing nice.”

You walked back into the wall and he followed, not touching yet but close enough that his body heat curled around you. “Don’t shrink back now,” he whispered. “Show me what that sharp little mouth can do.”

Your lips parted in indignation only for his grin to widen, stealing the breath and every comeback right out of you. He had perfectly straight teeth and unnervingly sharp canines. They were almost vampiric. Was your boss a vampire? That would explain why working for him felt like being bled dry day after day.

But right now, as those midnight eyes pinned you in place, the only thing you knew for sure was that you were in far deeper than any resignation letter could fix. 

And then all those swirling thoughts in your head stopped because he kissed you, brutally hard, swallowing your gasp of shock. His hand tangled roughly in your hair, tipping your head back until you were at his mercy.

His mouth trailed hot kisses across the soft skin of your neck, you bit your lip if only to try to contain the whimpers that were threatening to spill out of you. His sharp canines sunk softly into your skin and he sucked the spot after in almost a soothing manner.

It felt as though you’d lost your job, your mind, and apparently your self-respect—but fuck if you didn’t suddenly feel alive for the first time in months.

When he kissed you again it turned savage quick, all the pent-up frustration, a year’s worth of anger and denial spilling out in the space of a few ragged breaths. 

Sunghoon’s hands found your waist, gripping you hard enough to bruise. With barely a grunt as warning, he shoved you back until you collided with the desk, your palms splaying behind you for balance.

He crowded in, not giving you a second to reconsider. It was as if he could sense your hesitation and didn’t plan on letting you recover it. Your thighs hit the edge of the desk and he pinned you there, the solid line of his body fitting between your legs as he bent to nip your jaw, then your throat again, his breath hot and wild against your skin.

“Still want to quit?” he murmured, hands already hiking your skirt. “Or are you going to admit you need this as much as I do?”

Your laugh came out shaky. “I’d rather beg for anything but this job, asshole—”

He cut you off pushing your underwear aside and slipping a finger inside, harder than you expected, and so skilled it almost made you cry. Your hips jerked up helplessly, humiliation and need mixing into something molten.

“That’s right,” Sunghoon growled. “You love this, don’t you? Making a mess all over my fingers, desperate to be fucked by your boss. Never thought you’d be such a needy little thing.”

You hated how your body responded to every filthy word. His thumb circled your clit mercilessly and you gasped. “You should see yourself, whimpering on my desk,” he taunted. “I bet that monster dildo you picked out was just wishful thinking… thinking about getting filled up, stretched out, but you wanted the real thing, didn’t you?”

You managed a glare, but it drifted down when he started undoing his belt and freeing himself. The sight of his cock made your mouth go dry. He was big. Intimidatingly so. There was a split second of panic in your eyes, and he saw it, smirking as he lined himself up with you.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered, rubbing the tip of his cock against your entrance. “Are you scared? You can still run to HR and tell them about your big, bad boss. Or you can stay right here and take every fucking inch like a good girl.”

When he saw you had no intention of stopping him, he pushed in slowly and didn’t stop until he bottomed out, hips flush with yours. The stretch was dizzying, almost too much, but your body greedily tried to take more, clenching around him.

“Shit—so fucking tight,” he groaned, his voice breaking a little, grip bruising on your hips. “You’re gonna have to loosen up a bit, baby. I can’t move.”

Your walls we’re hugging him so hard he got scared he’d get stuck in there for a second (Nof that it would be such a bad thing). But then you relaxed as you got used to his size and he started moving slowly.

You whimpered, nails digging into the wood. “God, Sunghoon…” 

“Yeah, moan my name just like that,” he rasped, snapping his hips forward and pulling back only to slam in deeper. “You want everyone out there to know who’s fucking you stupid?”

Every word had you spiraling, your body burning, arching to meet his thrusts. The filthy rush of his dominance, the grip of his hands, the way he bent you back over his desk and took what he wanted—every bit of it broke down your defenses. He leaned over you, one hand gripping your jaw, forcing your gaze up to meet his.

“Eyes on me,” he ordered. “You don’t come until I tell you, got it?”

You nodded, barely coherent. All the nerves in your body lit up from the pressure and the brutal rhythm of his cock slamming into you. He pushed harder, deeper, and relentlessly.

“You’re mine now,” he snarled, biting at your throat. “My dirty little office slut, letting your boss fuck you on his desk because you couldn’t help yourself.”

“Y—yes,” you gasped, broken and burning for him.

“That’s right. Cum for me, right now. Show me how much you need it.”

As you fell apart, trembling and ruined against his desk, you realized you’d never let anyone talk to you like this—but god, you liked it when he did.

So, you didn’t quit. 

Instead, you trudged back into the office the next morning. Sore in places you’d rather not recall and wishing you could blot out yesterday’s debauchery from your body with industrial-grade bleach.

Things honestly couldn’t have gone worse. You’d marched into Sunghoon’s office to let out a year’s worth of grievances, and sure, you’d “let it all out”… just not in the way you’d planned. 

He still refused to accept your resignation, and there was zero chance you were marching to HR after engaging in the world’s most ridiculous office affair. Everyone knows the employee with less power always gets burned, and you were not leaving without your full paycheck.

Waiting for the elevator, you opened your phone’s camera, angling your neck to check the damage. Not even half a bottle of foundation could fully cover the vampire bites Sunghoon had branded you with. 

You dabbed your skin one last time before the elevator dinged and, as if conjured by your anxiety, in walked the devil himself.

“Good morning,” he said, and it took genuine effort not to flinch under his gaze.

“Uh, morning,” you muttered, pressing yourself into the farthest corner of the elevator, doing your best to look small and invisible.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, voice casual. If you weren’t so on edge, you’d have given him the side-eye. Since when did the man who regularly worked you into exhaustion care about your rest?

“As well as I could manage,” you replied, lips pressed tight.

“Hmm. I did go a little rough on you yesterday.” He said it as if he was apologizing for a harsh tennis match, not for nearly rearranging your insides.

A dust mote or possibly your own panic got lodged in your throat, and you started coughing. It took you a few seconds to recover and all you could manage was a hoarse “Let’s not speak of that ever again.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not dying to have the office know about our little secret either.”

Of course he was an ass about it. You rolled your eyes. “You think I am? For the record, I tried to quit. But no, Mr. Spoiled Sunghoon has to get his way, as always!”

He turned fully toward you, blocking the doors with that broad frame. “You’re calling me spoiled when you’re throwing a fit like this? And, for the record, I was about to suggest we find someplace more private to continue our… business instead.”

Your jaw dropped. Was he seriously proposing you keep fucking but just in a different…  location?

“You’ve misunderstood. I have no intention of continuing anything with you except maybe a more professional work relationship.”

He laughed a humorless laugh that skimmed your nerves raw. “You don’t believe that even a little.”

“Why do you have to fight me on every single thing? Does it give you some twisted satisfaction to see me pissed off?”

He flashed a wolfish smile. “Surprisingly, yes. But I found out yesterday that it’s even more satisfying seeing you come all over my co—”

The elevator doors suddenly slid open, saving you from whatever depravity he was about to say. You practically leapt to the other side so dramatically you had to fake a leg cramp to explain your awkward movement to the coworker stepping in. The newcomer eyed you curiously but said nothing, thank god.

You caught Sunghoon’s reflection in the elevator’s polished wall and he was clearly biting back a laugh, enjoying every second of your mortification.

When you arrived at your desk—flustered, anxious, and already mentally exhausted—you actually clasped your hands under the desk and prayed. Please let today pass without incident. Please let Park Sunghoon forget I exist for once in his damn life.

Realistically, he only called you into his office once or twice a week. Usually to nitpick your reports or assign corrections. And you figured he was smart enough to want to maintain at least the illusion of normalcy, which meant keeping that routine.

Naturally, you thought wrong.

Because barely fifteen minutes had passed before you saw your desk phone light up with a call from his extension.

You stared at it in silent horror, briefly considering smashing your forehead into the stapler. A workplace injury would be a valid excuse to leave early, right?

…For any normal boss, sure. But Sunghoon wasn’t a normal boss. He was a sadistic egomaniac who unfortunately had the dick to back up a portion of his arrogance.

Just then, your coworker Mina strolled by and smiled sweetly, clearly unaware that you were on the verge of losing your mind. You latched onto her like a lifeline.

“Mina! Can you help me with something?”

“Sure, what is it?” she asked, stepping closer.

You grabbed the offending stack of papers. “Can you take these reports to Mr. Park for me?” you offered her a smile hoping she wouldn’t question you. 

She blinked, a little confused. “Sure… but why?”

Fucking hell. “Oh, it’s just—I really need to use the bathroom, like, right now. Could you just drop them off for me?” The bathroom excuse was foolproof. No one argues with that.

“Oh, okay! But couldn’t you take it after?”

Why was she asking so many questions? Just take the goddamn file and save your doomed coworker from her crazy boss.

Your smile widened so unnaturally it probably triggered a horror response in her brain. Mina’s own smile faltered slightly in concern.

“I’m only saying that because you know how he gets with the reports… He’ll probably want to talk to you about it.”

Right. Like you didn’t already know that.

“I know! It’s just…” fuck it, being honest might make her feel bad for you. “I don’t want to deal with his berating right now.” You sighed.

She hesitated but then smiled in solidarity “I get it. He scares me a bit too. I'll bring them to him and say you needed the bathroom urgently.” 

Victory.

“Thank you so much, Mina! I owe you one.”

To commit to the bit, you stood up and headed toward the bathrooms, waiting just around the corner. You peeked out from behind a pillar and watched her step into Sunghoon’s office. Sorry for sending you into the lion’s den, Mina.

After five strategically-timed minutes in the bathroom, you returned to your desk and sat for three whole minutes before your phone rang again.

You saw the caller ID and instantly considered throwing yourself out the nearest window.

“Hel—”

“Come into my office. Now.”

The finality in his tone snapped any last thread of avoidance you were clinging to. You sighed, mentally braced for the gallows walk, and made your way to his office.

“You wanted me?” you asked coldly, sticking your head in and trying very hard not to look at the desk you’d been thoroughly fucked on yesterday.

“Come in,” he said, without looking up. “And close the door.”

You swallowed hard.

Closing the door meant isolation. No witnesses. Just you and him. And judging by the tone in his voice, you knew this wasn’t going to be a normal work talk. Hell, it probably wasn’t going to be a talk at all.

“I’m actually very busy right now, so—”

“Are you?” His voice was soft but cutting. “I doubt hiding out in the bathroom counts as a busy task.”

You shot him a look. Was he spying on you? “How did you even know?”

“Ms. Myoi isn’t exactly subtle,” he replied, almost smirking. “Next time, pick someone with a better poker face.”

“You got the files, so what’s the problem?” You tried to keep your tone firm, but your nerves were showing.

He stood up so quickly you barely had time to react. Every instinct screamed for you to bolt, but instead, you froze as his long fingers curled gently but firmly around your forearm, tugging you in closer. With his other hand, he closed the door behind you and turned the lock.

“I think you’re under the impression that, after what happened yesterday… You know, me stuffing you full of my cock and all… that you can talk to me however you please.” His tone was low and dangerous. “But you’re mistaken. I’m still your boss, and while you’re here, you’re going to show me respect.”

You hated the way he was speaking to you, hated even more the way his hand was now gliding up your arm, fingers brushing lightly around your throat and up to the sensitive nape of your neck.

“This is a total abuse of power,” you managed. “You can’t just summon me in here and expect me to drop everything because you think I’ll be easy for you. I’m not here to satisfy your needs. I’m here to work. And if that’s not what you want, let me go.”

He chuckled, the hand at your neck stroking slow circles against your skin. “Did you really think I called you in for anything other than work?” His tone was almost playful, clearly amused by your suggestion.

“I told you I wasn’t planning to do that again,” he added, his eyes flickering down your body with an infuriating amount of calm. “Not here, at least.”

Your chin lifted defiantly, meeting his gaze head-on. “What makes you think I’d want to do it again anywhere?” 

“Because you loved it. You took my cock like it was the best thing that had ever happened to you. And right now…” He leaned in closer, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You’re pressing your thighs together just from hearing me talk about it.”

Your whole body flushed—because fuck him, you were.

His hand tightened ever so slightly at your nape. “You can lie with that mouth all you want,” he murmured, “but your body? Your body doesn’t lie to me. It wants me. Still.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest, your breath turning embarrassingly shaky. Sunghoon saw your hesitation, your silent surrender, and smiled a  slow, arrogant smirk that sent a thrill straight down your spine.

He leaned closer, lips brushing lightly against your ear as he spoke in a whisper. “You know what your problem is? You talk so much, but the second I touch you…” his fingertips traced trails from your nape down your spine “you fall apart so beautifully. Yesterday you were practically begging me.”

“I—I wasn’t begging,” you lied weakly, breath hitching as his fingers slipped underneath the edge of your collar, stroking softly across your collarbone. 

“Really?” he murmured. “Because I distinctly remember how loud you were” his voice dipped into something darker, hotter. “Do you remember how tightly you clenched around me when I told you exactly what a good little slut you were being for your boss?”

You swallowed a whimper, shame and lust tightening your throat. His other hand cupped your jaw gently, thumb brushing your lower lip as he tilted your head back, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“You liked that, didn’t you? Liked taking every inch of me right here in my office,” he said quietly. “I bet you spent all night replaying it, wishing I was there to do it again. And again. And again.”

Your eyes fluttered shut involuntarily as his thumb stroked across your lip again, gently pressing just enough to part them. You were utterly pliant, melting like wax under his touch.

“Look at you,” he murmured softly, eyes glinting with triumph. “So responsive. Just my voice, my fingers on your skin, and you’re trembling already.” He leaned in. “I wonder how much more desperate I could make you.”

You couldn’t even pretend anymore. Your body was begging him silently. He drew back just slightly, a satisfied smirk playing at his lips as he took in your flushed expression.

“Meet me during your lunch break,” he ordered quietly, pulling away enough to restore a cruel semblance of professionalism. “Don’t be late. You know I’m not patient.”

Your cheeks burned hotly at the implication, even as a thrill raced through you. You nodded weakly, knowing there was no chance you’d refuse.

You counted down the hours to lunch with embarrassing anticipation, barely getting any work done. Not only was Park Sunghoon living rent-free in your head, he was now actively sabotaging your productivity. Ugh. How could hate and want coexist so aggressively? It was unnatural.

Finally, when the clock struck 1PM, you all but leapt out of your seat only to force yourself to sit right back down after realizing how eager you looked. Get a grip.

Just as you were trying to muster the courage to casually make your exit, your phone buzzed with a text from him:

Sunghoon: Change of plans. Meet me at the parking lot.

You stared at the message, scoffing. Really? He was going to make you walk all the way downstairs just to get railed in the backseat of his car?

You grumbled under your breath the entire way down to the parking lot, texting him as soon as you arrived: Which one’s your car?

You really should’ve known.

A black Mercedes-Benz—the newest model, naturally—rolled up and parked directly in front of you. The door popped open automatically, and there he was with sunglasses on, one arm draped lazily over the wheel, and a small tilt of his chin beckoning you inside like he was some villain in a K-drama.

You rolled your eyes but got in anyway.

“Why didn’t you bring your bag?” he asked immediately, not even sparing you a glance.

“I have my wallet in my phone case. I don’t need anything else.”

“I’ll have one of the staff bring it to my place later.”

“Your place?!” You sat upright, the seatbelt snapping back loudly as you turned to him.

He didn’t even glance over. “Where did you think we were going?”

“To eat lunch? I mean, I’m actually hungry,” you insisted, only half lying. You knew where this was heading, but you refused to seem too eager.

He sighed as if you were an unexpected challenge in his otherwise perfectly curated day. “Either way, you’re not coming back in today. I’ll have your bag delivered. So, where do you want to eat?”

“Wait a second. What do you mean I’m not coming back? My shift isn’t over. I have work to do!”

He gave you a look, one thick brow raised behind his sunglasses. “Yeah, work I assigned you. Which means I can unassign it just as easily. Strap in.”

“Sunghoon, this is… ridiculous! You can’t just kidnap me from work just because you’re my boss!”

He smirked. “I definitely can.”

“That doesn’t make it okay!” you grumbled, finally buckling your seatbelt with as much attitude as you could manage.

“I don’t understand what you’re so upset about. You’re getting out early, still getting paid for the full shift, and you’ll be thoroughly taken care of.” He glanced at you. “I’d think you’d be thanking me.”

“Of course you don’t see the problem,” you muttered, turning to scowl out the window. “Whatever. Just drive.”

Sunghoon didn’t say anything. The engine purred back to life, and you tried not to focus on the fact that you were skipping work to go God knows where with your arrogant, dangerously hot boss to get possibly (likely) fucked into tomorrow.

The car ride started in a silence that felt too heavy for two people who’d literally had sex on a desk 24 hours ago. You stared out the window, arms crossed, trying not to seem too aware of how expensive everything in this car felt. The leather, the tech, even the damn smell… it all screamed money. 

“Alright,” he said eventually, “how do you feel about that new French-Japanese fusion place in uptown?”

“Fusion? Uptown? That sounds like a two hour meal and three digit prices.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “So?”

“So,” you said, turning to look at him, “I said I’m hungry. I’m not trying to sit through seven courses of foam and edible flowers.”

“Fine,” he muttered. “What do you suggest, then?”

You thought for half a second. “We could hit that little spot near the office. You know, the one with the best kimchi fried rice—”

“No.”

You frowned. “Why not?”

“I’m not taking you somewhere that has a laminated menu and plastic chairs.”

You stared at him, incredulous. “You’re such a snob.”

“And you have the palate of a college student.”

You gaped at him. “You know what? Maybe I do want to eat something cheap and greasy. You ever think that maybe not all of us grew up eating imported truffle oil on toast?”

He chuckled. “Why are you making it sound like a crime to want something nice?”

“Because you think nice has to mean expensive.”

He didn’t reply right away, just turned the corner smoothly. You could feel his gaze on you even though he was watching the road.

“Fine. I’ll make a deal with you.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Go on.”

“I’ll let you pick where we eat this time, but next time, it’s my choice.”

Your stomach flipped at the implication of doing this again, but you refused to show it. “You’re assuming there’ll be a next time.”

Sunghoon smirked. “There will.”

You turned back to the window with a huff, trying to hide your tiny smile. 

“Wait—turn right here. There’s a food truck fair in that parking lot!

There was a second of silence so loud it made you look back at him. Sunghoon slowly turned his head toward you, scandalized.

“You want me to eat in a parking lot?”

“Oh come on. It’s street food!”

“Do you have any idea how many food safety violations they probably have?”

“You think your caviar isn’t hiding mercury or something? Please.”

He gave you a look like you’d just suggested licking a subway pole. “We could catch anything from there.”

You laughed, genuinely. “You’re being dramatic.”

“You know there’s a reason the Michelin Guide doesn’t cover sketchy food trucks.”

“Just try the food, Sunghoon. I promise you won’t die from eating a greasy burger”

“Bold of you to assume that’s not exactly how my obituary would read,” he muttered, but he was already making the turn.

You smirked triumphantly. “Are you actually giving in?”

He sighed, the weight of compromise clearly hurting his soul. “I’m making a tactical concession to avoid hearing you complain the rest of the day.”

“That’s what I thought,” you said sweetly, already unbuckling your seatbelt.

“If I get food poisoning, I’m dragging you down with me.”

The food truck you chose specialized in Korean fusion, with spicy pork tacos, kimchi fries, and bulgogi rice bowls. It was the kind of place where napkins came in a metal dispenser and water was self-serve. Sunghoon looked deeply out of place with his lil crisp button-up still tucked, Rolex peeking under his cuff, and an expression like he was trying not to breathe too deeply.

“That man’s handling cash and tortillas without changing gloves.” He said, pointing at the guy working the front.

“That man,” you replied, swatting his finger down “is a hero bringing joy to the masses. Relax.”

You ordered tacos, ignoring Sunghoon’s skeptical gaze as you squeezed lime over the foil-wrapped mess. “Don’t tell me you’ve never eaten from a truck before.”

“I have,” he lied, studying the salsa bottles. “It just… isn’t usually my first choice.”

You picked a picnic table under an umbrella. Sunghoon pulled out a crisp linen handkerchief (of course he carried one) and wiped the bench before you could sit.

“Oh my God, you’re embarrassing me,” you laughed.

“Your immune system will thank me,” he said, unfolding it like a placemat. 

“Here. Try acting like the rest of us humans” you handed him a tray.

“There’s no cutlery…” He said, eyeing the tacos suspiciously.

“Obviously,” you said, already digging into yours. “You have to use your hands, Richie Rich.”

Sunghoon reluctantly picked one up and took a bite. His jaw worked slowly, expression unreadable. You waited for a complaint.

“One to ten, rate your $6 lunch.”

He hesitated, glancing at your happy expression. “Eight. And don’t let it go to your head.”

You gasped dramatically. “Is that approval? From Park Sunghoon? Should I alert the media?”

“I said don’t push it.” But the corner of his mouth twitched dangerously close to a smile.

As you sat across from each other, legs nearly brushing beneath the bench, the sun felt warmer, the breeze softer. For a moment, everything felt dangerously normal.

Until he leaned in and brushed his thumb across the corner of your mouth.

You froze. “What are you doing?”

“You had sauce.” He licked his thumb without breaking eye contact. “Don’t say I never take care of you.”

You stared, half-appalled. “You are literally why my therapist is booked solid.”

“Happy to keep her employed,” he said, flashing a grin. “I’m sure you have plenty to discuss about how much you enjoy working under me.”

You snorted. “In what world would I admit that?”

He shrugged, tearing open a sauce packet with annoying elegance. “You already admitted it with your thighs yesterday.”

You kicked him lightly under the table. “You can’t say things like that in public.”

“No one’s listening,” he said, but his eyes hadn’t left your face once. He was watching you too closely.

You looked away, stabbing a fry. “So what is this supposed to be? Lunch and… whatever comes after?”

He leaned in slightly, forearms resting on the table. “You really think I’m that predictable?”

“Aren’t you?”

He shook his head, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “If I was just here for that, I wouldn’t have bothered with lunch.”

“Then why did you?”

“Still figuring that out.”

You cleared your throat, suddenly conscious of how close you were. “Well, while you work on your revelation, I’m getting dessert.”

He stood smoothly. “Pick whatever you want.”

“Even the bubble waffles?” you teased.

“Get two. You’ll need the sugar.”

You blinked. “Why?”

Sunghoon just smiled.

“I thought you said getting into my pants wasn’t the plan today,” you continued, arms folding tightly across your chest.

Sunghoon’s gaze flicked unapologetically downward. “I just changed my mind. Your ass looks incredible in that skirt.”

The truth is, he barely noticed until now just how distracted he’d become simply from watching the way your skirt hugged your curves. It irritated him a bit, actually, that you could derail his thoughts so effortlessly.

You kind of figured things would end up at his place, but your appetite for anything besides food totally disappeared. Maybe it was the realization that you’d let yourself get sidetracked from work, and, weirdly enough, you actually liked just hanging out and eating with him. But if you had sex with him now, it’d just confirm that to him, you were just an easily accessible warm hole, nothing more.

You grimaced at your own thoughts and suddenly got angry at the fact that you were even here.

“Well, I'm sorry but Richard’s waiting for me, so I have to get home.”

His entire demeanor shifted instantly, shoulders tightening, the casual ease disappearing from his expression.

“And who the hell is Richard?”

A faint tension settled into his jaw. It wasn’t jealousy—at least, that’s what he told himself. It was simply the irritation of someone who disliked having his plans disrupted.

You blinked at him. “Seriously?”

“And your shift isn’t even over yet,” he added coldly, looking at his watch.

Your blood pressure spiked instantly. “You’re joking, right? Now my shift matters? Five minutes ago you were rearranging my entire day like it was your personal schedule.”

Sunghoon glared at you, his grip on the keys turning almost painful. He knew he was being petty, but he didn’t care. Especially with you dodging him like this.

“I just asked who Richard was, there’s no need to get so defensive.”

“Well, it’s none of your damn business.”

Your words were sharp enough to make his jaw clench. He let out a frustrated breath, telling himself not to say anything else that could possibly upset you more.

“Now you can take me home, or I’ll get a cab. Your choice.” you said, unyielding.

There was a stubborn silence before Sunghoon finally relented, unlocking the car with a curt click. Without another word, you both slid inside, any easiness from before completely gone.

“So what—” Sunghoon scoffed as he started the engine, eyes hardening with visible annoyance. “You can sleep with me but I can’t ask who you’re rushing home to?”

“Exactly, because we’re not anything, remember?”

The reply was blunt enough that even Sunghoon found himself momentarily at a loss for a comeback. That’s right, this was supposed to be a casual thing. So why did this suddenly feel so much more personal?

He didn’t care who you were seeing, really—he just didn’t appreciate surprises.

Nobody said another word the entire drive. You could practically hear every exhale he took through his nose as he maneuvered the Mercedes through traffic. When he finally pulled up in front of your building, you unbuckled fast, eager to put distance between you.

“Thanks for the food,” you said curtly, fingers already on the door handle.

His gaze flicked over. “Sure.”

You stepped out, letting the door slam just to be petty. Sunghoon’s jaw flexed, his hands gripping the wheel harder. The Benz sped off with a throaty growl, and you resisted the urge to flip him off as the tail lights faded.

Upstairs, you kicked off your shoes and made a beeline for the one thing that had been getting you through this godforsaken job for the last 13 months.

The punching bag.

It hung from the ceiling near your bookshelf, worn from frequent abuse. Centered at face level was a printout of Park Sunghoon’s corporate ID that you’d taped with scotch.

“You smug, insufferable bastard!” you shouted, kicking the bag so hard it swung wildly. “Acting like you own my schedule, my life, my goddamn—”

Thwack. A right hook.

“‘Who the hell is Richard?’ None of your business, that’s who!”

Thump. Left jab.

“Shift’s not over—my ass!”

You unleashed a rapid combo, each hit knocking the bag back with satisfying heft. Across the room, Richard, the mildly judgmental tabby who ruled your apartment with silent disdain blinked at you from his perch.

“See, Richie?” You kneed the bag for good measure. “This is why we can’t have nice things. Because men like Park Sunghoon exist.”

Richard only cocked his head, emitting a single meow and looking entirely unimpressed.

You landed one final kick then sagged against the bag, chest heaving. Richard hopped down, padded over, and brushed against your shin, purring as though to say drama over? snack time?

You blew out a breath, raking sweaty hair off your forehead. “Yeah, buddy. Snack time.” Anything to shift focus away from a certain arrogant boss whose expensive cologne you could still—annoyingly— smell on you.

Sunghoon drove back with one hand still tight on the wheel, the other tapping against the center console in a restless rhythm. His jaw hadn’t unclenched since you slammed the door on his car.

He wasn’t pissed. He just… didn’t like how the afternoon ended. You were supposed to come home with him. You were supposed to want to. 

Instead, you’d thrown some guy’s name in his face and got all defensive like he didn’t have a right to ask. Which was bullshit. You’d let him in once, and he was pretty sure you’d let him in again—hell, he knew you would—but the idea of someone else waiting for you? That didn't sit well for some reason.

Why were you being such a brat? You clearly liked the arrangement, otherwise, you wouldn’t have even let him take you out to lunch. He actually tried, you know? Tried not to make it seem like all he cared about was fucking you. Okay, sure, that was a big part of it—but he did want to get to know you too. And then you had to go and be with someone else? Fuck. He hated this… hated the bitter taste of being someone’s second choice.

You weren’t even dating and he didn’t have a right to ask you who you were seeing on the side. You’d said that yourself. Plus, he didn’t want to date anyway. He didn’t want something soft or complicated. He didn’t want to know what you liked for breakfast or listen to your problems or figure out what you meant when you said fine in a tone that clearly wasn’t.

He just wanted the control back. That’s all this was.

Because the second you said someone else was waiting for you, the balance tipped. And Park Sunghoon didn’t like losing his grip on anything—especially not something he already had in his hands.

He switched into the next lane with a bit more force than necessary, letting the tires roar for him. His thumb tightened on the wheel. Richard. Stupid fucking name. Sounded like a finance bro who wore boat shoes and called people “champ”

He didn’t care who Richard was. He just didn’t like the image of you choosing to go home to anyone else even if he didn’t want you for more than what you were.

Which he didn’t.

Obviously.

He was just annoyed.

Frustrated.

Hard again, if he was being honest.

With a low, irritable sigh, Sunghoon turned into the parking garage of his building and killed the engine. He sat there for a second, resting his head back against the seat with his eyes closed.

This was nothing. You were nothing.

But you had looked really fucking good storming away from him.

Sunghoon gave you space the next day. Not out of guilt but because he figured pushing after yesterday’s disaster would only make things worse. You were temperamental, stubborn as hell, and smart enough to know he was trying.

Still, that didn’t mean he wasn’t thinking about you. Specifically, about the way those pencil skirts you paraded around made your legs and ass look fantastic. 

By the time Friday rolled around, he’d settled on a strategy: subtlety. A little distance, then a reappearance. Just enough to keep you guessing.

So after five o’clock, when most of the floor had already packed up, he left his office with every intention of catching you at your desk. You always stayed late on Fridays, getting the week's reports done so your Mondays weren’t hell. It was part of your routine, and he knew your routines well.

But when he stepped out, your desk was empty.

He glanced around but only one intern remained. Sunghoon walked over. The intern flinched and straightened instantly.

“Where is everyone?” Sunghoon asked calmly.

The intern blinked, clearly panicking under the pressure. “Uh… there’s a team dinner, sir. At that Kimchi place down the block… I think everyone from our department went.”

Sunghoon didn’t bother replying. He just turned on his heel and left.

The kimchi place was downright dismal. The smell of gochujang and sizzling pork could be smelled even from outside. All of Marketing-Finance Floor 23 seemed crammed into one corner.

As soon as Sunghoon entered the room the conversation  died. The only thing that could be heard was a nervous chorus of “Boss?” 

Sunghoon’s eyes locked on you first. On the hem of your skirt riding high on your crossed legs, your cheeks flushed from beer, and your smile collapsing into a flat line the moment you saw him. You were sitting at a corner table, a half-empty pitcher between you and some guy from Finance whose name Sunghoon didn’t even care to remember.

“Next round’s on me,” he announced, sliding his Amex to the sputtering waitress. This seemed to do the trick because the energy returned to the room accompanied by cheers.

Sunghoon moved toward your table.

“This table’s full.” You said immediately, cold but polite.

But before he could reply, one of the interns sprang up like an obedient golden retriever. “Oh, Mr. Park, you can take my seat!”

You smiled tightly at the intern as Sunghoon sat.

That’s when he noticed that the table was all males. And the one beside you was definitely flirting. Sunghoon vaguely recognized him. Sungchan, or something. The guy leaned in when you laughed at whatever he was saying, his hand dangerously close to your arm.

Sunghoon’s jaw ticked.

“Seems like you’re having a great time,” he said flatly, putting down his drink a little too firmly.

You didn’t even glance at him. “I was.”

“Hmm” he hummed, offering a hollow smile. “Didn’t realize this was such an… intimate team gathering.”

“That's usually how work dinners go.”

“Do you laugh like that with everyone you work with?” he asked coolly, eyes flicking to Sungchan, who was too immersed in conversation with another coworker to pay attention to you two.

“Do not start with this.” You glared.

“I’m just saying what I see.”

“No, you’re just pissed you’re not the center of attention.” You stood up abruptly. “Excuse me.”

Sunghoon didn’t give you a moment. He was right behind you as you slipped around the corner and into the women’s restroom. You barely caught your own reflection before his voice sounded at your back.

“Would Richard approve of you out this late, drinking with a bunch of guys?”

You shot him a deadly look in the mirror. “This is the ladies’ restroom. Get out.”

He leaned against the doorframe, clearly not planning on leaving. “I’m just asking. I’m guessing you two have some kind of open relationship.”

You spun to face him, jaw clenched. “Enough about Richard, already.”

He shrugged, rolling up his sleeves casually. “I mean, I’ve been thinking about it. I don’t really mind it that much anymore.”

Your brow furrowed. “What are you getting at?”

“That you’re taken.” His voice dropped a note. “I thought it would bother me. I don’t usually like sharing. But…”

He closed the distance, backing you up against the sink.

“I could make you forget all about him.”

You swallowed, eyes narrowing. “This is highly inappropriate.”

He stepped between your legs before you could sidestep, one hand pressing to the counter beside your hip.

“Inappropriate would be me fucking you right here,” he said calmly. “So I will fuck you in the stall instead…”

You stared up at him, furious that your heart was racing, furious that your body hadn’t caught up to your mind screaming walk away.

Instead, you took a fistful of his shirt and that’s all it took for the thread to snap. He grabbed your wrist and before you could say another word, he was guiding—no, manhandling—you toward the nearest stall.

You stumbled back into it, the door swinging shut behind you with a loud click. 

“You want to laugh with your little office boy toys, fine. But you know none of them will ever get you like this.” he said, already slipping his hand up under your skirt.

“You’re disgusting” you hissed, even as your thighs parted automatically. 

His smile was lazy, sharp canines appearing. “You like me like this.”

You rolled your eyes but the attitude was cut short when he hooked your underwear to the side and ran his fingers through the wetness he found there.

“Dripping,” he whispered. “All that show out there with that dumb accountant but you’re fucking soaked for me.”

“Are you jealous?” you managed, but your voice was already strangled by want.

“Jealous?” Sunghoon scoffed, his other hand unbuttoning your shirt. “I just hate seeing something I’ve ruined get played with by someone else.”

He flicked open the last button, shoving your shirt off your shoulders with barely a glance. Your bra was in the way for all of two seconds until he hooked a finger under the center and yanked it down.

“Pretty,” he murmured, thumb brushing over your nipple. For a second, he just looked at you, half-naked and panting against the wall. His hand trailed lower, skimming your stomach, fingers hooking under your waistband impatiently.

You gripped the handrail, desperate to keep your footing as he shoved two fingers inside you without warning.

“Don’t make a sound,” he growled. “Or do, I don’t give a shit if the whole building hears you getting split open by your boss’ fingers.”

You bit your lip, failing to stifle the whimper that slipped out as his thumb circled your clit.

“We… we shouldn’t do this here” you choked, hips rocking against his hand. “Anyone could come in—-“

“I know,” he cut in, voice rough. “And I’m going to make you come on my fingers while your coworkers toast to a great fucking work week in the next room.”

He kissed you roughly as his fingers thrust in deeper, making you gasp against his mouth. He swallowed it all.

He undid his belt swiftly but your greedy eyes couldn’t take a peek of him because he spun you around quickly, your hands pressing against the cold wall for balance.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” He lined himself up, pressing the head of his cock against you. “For me to fuck you like the needy little slut you really are.”

“Sunghoon—” Your voice cracked. Whatever protest you had evaporated as he thrust in deeply, filling you so suddenly your forehead almost hit the tile wall.

“I told you to be quiet,” he growled, hand clamping over your mouth as his hips snapped roughly into yours. “Unless you want your entire restaurant to hear how desperate you are.”

You moaned against his palm, muffled, eyes squeezed shut as he fucked you ruthlessly. You hated him, hated yourself for how good it felt, for how much you loved the brutal way he fucked you every time. Your body clenched greedily around him, betraying every bit of pride you had left.

“Fuck,” he hissed against your ear, composure cracking. “This tight cunt… did Richard fuck you before you came here tonight? Did you think of me the whole time?”

You whimpered, shaking your head, overwhelmed by how perfectly he filled and ruined you.

“No?” he laughed darkly, gripping your hair and pulling your head back roughly. “You’re mine. Remember that. I know nobody fucks you like this.”

Your body tightened, dizzy from the sensation of every thrust hitting deeper. The cubicle walls shook with each movement, the cheap metal rattling beneath the weight of your reckless need. 

“Come on,” he whispered harshly, hand sliding down to circle your clit mercilessly. “Now cum for me. Be a good girl for once in your life.”

You shattered instantly, violently, screaming against his palm, your walls fluttering around him. Sunghoon swore, still fucking you through every after shock and only pulling out when he was close. He pumped himself outside and spilled his cum all over your legs.

He held you there for a moment, both of you panting, barely holding yourselves upright against the stall wall. Then, he released you and adjusted himself neatly. Your legs trembled, barely able to stand.

“I’m still mad at you,” you whispered, voice hoarse.

He zipped up without blinking. “Good. You fuck better when you’re mad.”

You kicked the door shut behind you, dropped your bag, and let out a groan that probably startled half the building. Richard blinked up from his favorite spot on the windowsill, tail twitching with interest.

You toed off your shoes and collapsed onto the couch. “Richard, I swear to god, your mom’s about to lose her mind.”

He meowed, hopping down and trotting over, immediately stretching up to press his paws to your knee.

“Do you want to hear how my day went? Or are you just here for pets?” You rubbed behind his ear. “Never mind. You’re the only man in my life who isn’t an egomaniac.”

Richard purred in response, eyes wide and curious.

You sighed and started, “Park Sunghoon is the human equivalent of a migraine. He’s so full of himself. It’s always his way or nothing. He’s obsessed with control. And with my—” You caught yourself, cheeks warming. “—I mean, with being the center of attention.”

Richard licked his paw and gave you the bland, patient stare only cats can manage.

“Do you know what he did at work dinner? He walked in, sucked the air out of the room, and then got all territorial the second someone even looked at me. Like, hello? You’re my boss, not my husband!” You huffed, grabbing a throw pillow and squeezing it to your chest.

“And of course, he always has to one-up me. Always has to have the last word. I swear, he’d argue with a brick wall just to prove he could.” You sighed at the ceiling. “One of these days, I’m going to out-stubborn him, Richard. Just you wait.”

Richard meowed and rolled over, practically demanding you scratch his belly.

You gave in, smiling despite yourself. “If I ever start falling for a guy like him, you have my full permission to claw some sense into me. Okay? I mean it.”

Richard let out a long, slow blink, then tucked his head into your lap.

“Oh, don’t even. I know what you’re thinking. ‘But you let him rail you in a bathroom, so who’s really at fault?’ And yeah, fine, okay. That did happen. Doesn’t mean he gets to act like that.”

You sighed, unzipping your skirt halfway to sprawl more comfortably.

“And what was that comment tonight? ‘Did Richard fuck you before you came here?’ First of all, he’s a cat, you lunatic! Secondly, who says that? Who follows you into the ladies restroom just to whisper bullshit like that in your ear and still manage to look hot doing it?”

Silence.

Richard stretched his front paws and turned away from you.

“I hate him,” you groaned. “I hate that stupid look he gets when he knows I’m seconds away from either punching him or climbing him like a fucking ladder. I hate that he talks to me like he owns my body. I hate that I let him.”

You exhaled. For a moment, you try to let yourself forget the mess outside these walls and just be a girl with a comfy couch and a very good cat.

“He’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Richard purred, which was probably him agreeing.

“…And I need new panties.”

The following Monday was hell. You walked into the building with your chin high and your legs still sore, determined to keep it professional. Sunghoon, of course, didn’t look even slightly affected. He entered the conference room as if he hadn’t rearranged your insides in a public restroom stall less than 48 hours earlier.

The team meeting started normally enough. Mostly about updates, deadlines, and more mind-numbing corporate stuff. You were seated across from him, doing your best to ignore the way his eyes kept drifting to you.

Then came the part where you had to present your weekly figures.

“Your report doesn’t account for the regional shift in quarter-two projections,” Sunghoon said, flipping through your printed pages without looking up.

You gave him a tight smile. “That’s because I was told to prioritize active trends over predictive models. As per last Friday’s brief, sir.”

A few heads turned at your sharp tone.

Sunghoon arched a thick brow. “Then you were told wrong.”

“Oh, so now you’re saying your own directives were wrong?”

“You must’ve misinterpreted them. Wouldn’t be the first time,” he said coolly, shutting the folder.

Your jaw tightened. “Funny, since the last time I ‘misinterpreted’ something, you ended up correcting me right away.”

The air in the room dropped to sub-zero.

Sunghoon smiled. But it wasn’t nice. “Let’s take five. I think some of us need to clear our heads”

No one argued. The team scattered so fast it was like fire had broken out. Then it was just you and him.

“I see the bathroom didn’t teach you anything.” He said, voice low and flat as he rounded the table slowly.

You stood your ground. “If you think you can intimidate me in here just because we—”

“Oh, princess,” he murmured. “I’m not trying to intimidate you.”

He pushed you backward until your thighs hit the edge of the conference table. You blinked, but didn’t move. Stubborn to the end.

“Is this how you want to play it?” you asked, breathing uneven.

His eyes dropped to your hips. “This is how you like it.”

You opened your mouth to fire back but gasped when he dropped to his knees in front of you, palms sliding up the backs of your thighs and pulling you closer to his face, lips brushing against the hem of your skirt.

“Sunghoon—”

“Hush,” he said simply, lifting your leg over his shoulder. “You do too much talking.”

He shoved your panties aside and licked a slow stripe up your center. Your hand flew to the edge of the table, nails digging in. His mouth was hot and merciless, tongue working you open with infuriating skill.

“Is this what you wanted?” he muttered, voice muffled between your thighs. “To act like a brat in front of the team so I’d remind you how to behave?”

You couldn’t answer. His mouth was moving too fast now, tongue circling your clit while his fingers spread you wider. Your head fell back, hips rocking helplessly against his face.

He sucked hard, then pulled back just enough to smirk. “Still think you’re in charge?”

You didn’t trust your voice, so you just whimpered, grinding down on his mouth.

He didn’t stop when your thighs shook or even when you clenched around his tongue, crying out into the empty conference room.

When you finally came, it was with a broken sound and a trembling grip on the polished edge of the table. He kept his mouth on you the whole time, lapping up everything you gave him like he was starved.

Eventually, he stood and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, adjusting his sleeves.

You were still breathless, flushed, legs too weak to stand

“I expect your revised report in my inbox by end of day,” he said smoothly, as if he hadn’t just tongue-fucked you into silence.

Sunghoon’s phone buzzed against the table. A single glance at the caller ID wiped the smugness from his face.

His jaw set. “I have to take this.”

You were still half perched on the edge of the conference table, skirt rucked up, panties sticking to you uncomfortably. “Now?”

He straightened his suit jacket with one sharp tug, then swiped to answer. “Yes, Chairman Park?”

Whatever he heard on the other end made the muscle in his cheek jump. “Understood. I’ll be there in ten.”

He killed the call and grabbed a folder he had tossed aside earlier. “I have to go.” His eyes flicked down to your still open thighs then darted back up as if forcing himself to look away. “Make yourself presentable before leaving”

He grabbed his suit jacket from the chair, ran a hand through his hair, and started toward the door.

“Wait, what?” you asked, still breathless. “Are you seriously just���leaving?”

He didn’t even look back. “I have to take care of something.”

Your mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding, right? You just made me—”

“Clean the table up,” he said, already halfway out. “There’s a team coming in here at four.”

The door shut behind him, leaving only the faint scent of his cologne and the distant click of his shoes fading down the hall.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, yanking your panties back up. “I cannot believe I let that man near me again.”

And once again, you were left cleaning yourself up after Park Sunghoon decided to turn you inside out and vanish like nothing ever happened.

You went back to your desk and channeled every ounce of your anger into the stupid corrections Sunghoon had asked for, using every shred of self-restraint not to add an extremely inappropriate cartoon at the end for his private viewing.

When you finished, there wasn’t much else to do, so you decided to grab some snacks from the staff room. But as you made your way there, you nearly collided with Sunghoon, who was turning the corner accompanied by the CEO, Mr. Park, and a girl you’d never seen before.

The girl looked like she’d just walked off a runway. She was absolutely stunning, with the kind of beauty that made you double-take. She was gazing at Sunghoon with sparkling eyes, clearly smitten, and Sunghoon… was also smiling? And not his usual smirk or that infuriating shit-eating grin, either. This was almost gentle, his eyes crinkling at the corners, a dimple appearing on his cheek. Since when did he have dimples?

You got caught staring when all of you paused in the hallway. After a few awkward seconds, you remembered you were supposed to greet them. “Mr. Park,” you bowed, earning a polite smile from the CEO.

“Oh, hello! Miss Y/L/N, right? Yes, I heard it was your proposal last year that revived the department. Well done! Sunghoon here really picks out the best candidates, doesn’t he?” He clapped Sunghoon on the back and laughed warmly.

Pick out? Well, he certainly picked out the best girl to use. You frowned, but Sunghoon noticed and stepped in smoothly.

“You’re too kind, sir.”

The CEO gestured to the girl. “This is my daughter.”

“Jang Wonyoung,” she said, extending a perfectly manicured hand.

You took it and smiled politely. “Nice to meet you.”

“She’ll be starting here tomorrow,” the CEO continued.

“Here?” you asked, glancing between them. “As in… this department?”

“Indeed. Please treat her well,” Mr. Park said with a friendly nod. You bowed your head again.

“Of course, sir.”

You didn’t realize they accepted new candidates mid-year in this department, but you supposed being the CEO’s daughter had its perks.

“Well, I was just grabbing a refreshment,” you said, offering a brief smile before stepping past them and into the room. 

You glanced over your shoulder and caught Sunghoon stealing a quick glance at you. So this was the “very important business” that made him leave you hot, bothered, and stranded in the conference room? Of course. Giving the CEO’s daughter a personal tour was obviously more urgent than finishing what he’d started with you.

You tried to shake off the weird surge of annoyance building in your chest. You were supposed to be focusing on yourself, right? But ever since your twisted affair with Sunghoon began, your whole life had slipped out of order.

You’d missed your weekend pilates class because your limbs were too sore from being railed in the bathroom. You’d gotten maybe three hours of sleep, replaying every aggravating thing he’d ever done, simmering in irritation and… something else you refused to discuss. You’d even skipped lunch a few times, pretending to be swamped with work just so he wouldn’t get the chance to “kidnap” you again.

Safe to say, Park Sunghoon was wrecking absolute havoc on your routine, and you were desperate to claw back some control.

Maybe this new girl would distract him and he’d finally leave you the hell alone. The idea made your mouth twist with something ugly and in your distracted state, you sipped your freshly brewed coffee, scalding your tongue immediately.

You walked out of the refreshment room with a burnt tongue, a soured mood, and not even a little bit refreshed.

Wonyoung joining your team turned out to be a much bigger hassle than you’d expected. Especially since, out of everyone, you were picked to show her the ropes during her first week. It was like babysitting a celebrity, except the fans were your own coworkers.

Every male employee you passed seemed to have suddenly discovered urgent business near your desk, only to pull you aside with the world’s most obvious fake smiles.

“So, uh… you got her number yet?”

“You think she’s seeing anyone?”

You’d learned to fake a polite smile back and keep it moving, but by Wednesday you were ready to claw your ears off. 

The real cherry on top, however, was Sunghoon himself. With Wonyoung around, he’d doubled down on humiliating you in every meeting. Every little thing you said was picked apart, corrected, or ignored outright. You could feel her perfect eyes on you every time he put you on the spot, and by Friday you were seething.

By the end of the week, you were so keyed up you couldn’t even fake politeness anymore. And unsurprisingly, being micromanaged and dragged into extra tasks had left you behind on your actual work.

Which is how you found yourself still at the office at nearly 3 a.m, hunched over your desk and furiously editing reports with trembling hands and a full mug of forbidden coffee. So much for your no caffeine rule.

Your phone buzzed, and when you saw it was a message from Sunghoon, you nearly hurled it across the room. 

What the hell did he want now? He’d barely acknowledged your existence this week, except to hand you extra work or cut you down in front of the entire team. Maybe he wanted to tell you you’d missed a comma in one of the reports. You knew how much he enjoyed kicking you when you were already down.

Your phone rang again but this time it was a call. You sighed, grabbed it, and answered with zero effort to hide your annoyance. “What?”

“Are you still at the office?” His voice was frustratingly alert for this hour.

“Why?”

“It’s 2am.”

You glanced at the clock. “I am painfully aware. How do you even know I’m here?”

“I can see the security cameras.”

“That’s not creepy at all,” you muttered, spinning in your chair. “Glad to know I can’t even work myself to death in peace.”

“I also saw you were still at your desk when I left earlier. And I know you well enough to know you’d probably stay late.”

“Right, you know me so well,” you shot back, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have about a million reports to correct. Which I got behind on, because I was busy playing tour guide to the little princess all week by the way.”

There was a pause and you almost thought he might apologize. But Sunghoon, as always, surprised you.

“Just… don’t stay too late. The security guards leave at three, and I don’t want to hear about you getting locked in.”

You rolled your eyes. “Noted, boss.”

He hung up before you could add anything else. You tossed your phone onto the desk and stared at your blinking cursor, feeling more annoyed than before.

Sunghoon walked in on the next day already armed with a rare idea. He would let you go home early. You had spent half the night here so the least he could do was let you beat the rush hour traffic.

Then he saw you climb out of Sungchan’s car.

Every good intention died immediately. The muscles in his face tightened so hard into a scowl they ached. He crossed the parking lot in long strides until he was in front of you.

“Morning,” he said impassively. “You two are late.”

He knew you weren’t. The Rolex on his wrist still read 8:58. But the words fired out anyway.

Your easy smile vanished as you simply huffed and strode past him into the building without a word. Sungchan offered a quick bow, clearly confused, then hurried after you. 

Sunghoon’s eyes narrowed. Since when did you commute with Sungchan? Did you not have a perfectly functioning car?

He waited until Sungchan had disappeared back to the accounting floor, before stalking over to your desk. He forced himself to make his tone as casual as possible. You looked irritable enough to bite.

“So,” he said, hands in his pockets, “did you finish those report corrections?”

Without speaking, you lifted a neat stack of files, and set them in his hand. 

Great. Now you weren’t even talking to him.

“I didn’t know you were so close with Sungchan,” he tried, still aiming for non-threatening. “Car trouble? Or is he your new chauffeur?”

You exhaled one of those long, tired sighs that felt like a door slamming in his face before finally looking up at him. The frost in your eyes was familiar, almost nostalgic. He realized he had barely seen you outside meetings last week, and in a twisted way he had missed this exact glare.

“Do you need something?” you asked, voice flat as glass.

He frowned. “No, I was just—”

“Then, if it’s not work-related, I have a lot to do.” You gathered another stack of folders and stood. “And Ms. Jang seems to be waiting for you.”

Sunghoon followed the direction of your nod. Wonyoung stood outside his office with a tablet in her hands. He looked back at you, hoping for one more second of eye contact, something he could read. You were already walking away.

He clenched the corrected reports a little too tightly and turned toward Wonyoung. Whatever nice gesture he’d planned for you earlier was dead on arrival.

You knew from that chilly exchange that your day would not be a walk in the park. The meeting was only ten minutes in and already your nails were half-destroyed from how hard you were digging them into your palm.

Sunghoon was on a roll today. Maybe it was the caffeine or the fact that Wonyoung was seated beside him looking all pretty. But whatever it was, he had decided today was the day to challenge everything you said.

“No,” he cut in for the fourth time, tone clipped, “that’s not what the report reflects. Unless you’ve somehow redefined what productivity looks like, Miss Y/L/N.”

You inhaled sharply. “It’s what the data says. You know, the thing you usually ignore when it doesn’t flatter your genius ideas?”

A few coworkers coughed into their palms. Some even looked up as if  they were watching live combat. Wonyoung, of course, just blinked politely.

Sunghoon’s jaw twitched. “Just because I let you lead these meetings doesn’t mean you should forget who’s running this department.”

“Oh, I haven’t forgotten,” you snapped. “It’s kind of hard when every sentence from your mouth is a dick-measuring contest with yourself.”

The entire room fell into stunned silence.

Sunghoon didn’t even flinch. He just slowly set down his pen and met your gaze with equal intensity. “I think that’s enough for today. Good job everyone.” 

This scene was very familiar and if you remembered correctly, if you stayed in here another second, he would get you in a compromising situation you’d surely regret later.

So you huffed out a breath and walked out, ignoring the curious looks exchanged behind you. Sunghoon was hot on your heels.

“You’ve got a fucking mouth on you,” he muttered, stalking toward you.

“And you’ve got a god complex. Guess we all have flaws, don’t we?”

“I’m your superior.”

“And I’m sick of you reminding me that when I don’t roll over every time you bark!”

He was suddenly in front of you, invading your space. “I wouldn’t have to remind you if you knew how to behave.”

“Says the one who doesn’t know how to treat a woman unless your dick’s out.”

Sunghoon's hand gripped the back of your neck and shoved you into the filing cabinets inside the copy room, not hard enough to hurt but hard enough to tell you the gloves were off.

“Oh, you wanna talk about dicks?” he hissed, his mouth now inches from yours. “Let me remind you how good mine felt buried inside you.”

You refused to back down. “Are you going to fuck the attitude out of me again? How very predictable.”

You twisted in his grip, shoving his chest, but he caught your wrists.

“You want to keep mouthing off?” he rasped, advancing until your bodies hit the cabinet.

“Fuck you.”

He answered by twisting a fist into your hair and crushing his mouth to yours, his tongue driving past your lips as though he could steal every spark of your anger. His free hand slid down to cup your jaw, fingers locking around your chin to hold you still.

“Fucking look at you” he spat, lips swollen and smeared as he tore himself from your mouth “All that attitude, but you’re shaking for me. Who’s the predictable one?”

You glared, stubborn to the last, but your hips betrayed you with a needy twitch. He grabbed you and spun you, forcing you forward until your chest slammed against the cabinet’s freezing edge. His hand bunched up your skirt high, the other tearing your tights and panties down in one rough motion.

“Let me guess,” he sneered, fingers trailing between your legs, “Sungchan made you this wet? Or was it the thought of me bending you over like this?”

You gasped when two long fingers plunged inside you. There was nothing tender in the way he moved—just a ruthless rhythm, demanding your surrender.He curled his fingers, thumb flicking over your clit, making you whimper despite yourself.

“God, listen to you. Moaning like a slut in the copy room,” he taunted, voice dropping lower. “You act so high and mighty, but you’d let me fuck you anywhere, wouldn’t you?”

You bit your wrist to stifle a cry, your hips rocking back against his hand.

“That’s right. Take it. You love it when I treat you like this. You want it rougher?  Or do you want me to slow down and pretend I give a shit about your feelings?”

“Don’t you dare slow down,” you snapped, words strangled with need.

He laughed breathlessly. “Didn’t think so.”

He pulled his fingers out and licked them with a wicked grin. “Pathetic. You’re dripping for me. After all your bitching, you still can’t help yourself.”

You twisted, grabbing the front of his shirt and yanking him down, biting his lower lip hard enough to taste blood. “Just shut up and fuck me.”

His belt hit the floor within a second. He gripped your hips, lined himself up, and thrust in so deep and sudden you yelped. He didn let you adjust to his sheer size, simply grabbed your wrists, pinning them behind your back with one hand, the other squeezing your throat, forcing your back to arch.

“Don’t you dare close your legs. I wanna see you take every inch,” he snarled, grabbing your thighs and holding them wide as he pounded into you. His cock was stretching you so wide and deep, hitting all the right spots until you were a mess of moans and broken pleas. 

Every thrust was sharp and punishing, your body shuddering under him, wetness dripping down your thighs. If anyone heard, they’d know exactly what he was doing to you but you could not care less at that moment.

“Who do you belong to?” His voice was sharp. “Say it. Say you’re mine, or I’ll leave you like this.”

You shook, barely able to breathe. “Yours. I’m yours.”

He leaned down, teeth grazing your ear. “Louder.”

“Yours!” you gasped, voice echoing in the tiny room.

“Yeah, that’s right. And when you walk out of here, everyone’s going to know it. I want my cum leaking down your thighs during the next meeting. I want you thinking about this every time you sit down at your desk. You got that?”

You nodded desperately, tears stinging your eyes from the stretch and the force of his thrusts.

He let go of your wrists, grabbed your hips, and fucked you harder, so rough you saw stars. He reached around and rubbed your clit fast, breath hot against your neck.

“Cum for me, baby.”

You came so hard, whole body seizing in the waves of your orgasm. Your legs shook, almost giving out able to hold you up. Sunghoon kept going, chasing his own release, until he pulled out and came by your legs with a guttural curse.

You let your head fall back against the cabinet, trying to catch your breath. The fury that had burned so hot just minutes ago had dulled into a simmer of exhausted annoyance. You expected to turn around and see Sunghoon already tugging up his pants, smoothing his hair back into place, maybe even tossing a smug remark over his shoulder like "clean yourself up."

But when you looked, he wasn’t walking away. He was still standing behind, holding a handkerchief similar to the one he’d used when you ate together.

And then, to your complete disbelief, he knelt down.

You blinked. "What are you—"

Before you could finish, he was gently wiping the mess off your thighs—his and yours. His touch was careful, the same hands that just made you see stars  now moving with a tenderness that almost made you recoil.

When he finally stood again, you caught the faint but unmistakable flush on the tips of his ears. He avoided your gaze for a moment, brushing his palms against his pants as if trying to rid himself of the moment.

“Did something happen to your car?”

It took you a second to catch up. “Uhm, yeah, it wouldn’t start this morning. It’s at the shop now.”

He nodded once, then looked at you with a neutral expression. “I can give you a ride home. And to work, until it’s fixed.”

You paused mid-motion as you adjusted your tights. That was… surprisingly considerate. Especially coming from someone who usually barked orders instead of offering help.

“I… sure. You can give me a ride home today,” you said cautiously. “As for tomorrow, I’ll think about it.”

His gaze lingered on you for a second longer than and then he nodded again.

“All right then.”

He wasn’t forcing a choice on you this time. How strange.

Later, when the workday finally ended, you waited by your desk. Usually, you were the last one to leave, and tonight was no exception so the office was mostly dark and quiet by the time Sunghoon emerged from his office.

“Ready?” he asked walking over.

“Yes,” you said, grabbing your things and falling into step beside him as you made your way to the elevator. 

There was an odd tension between you, but not the usual  combative kind. This was almost awkward. Because for the first time, you were leaving together without arguing or being forced into it.

Once inside his car, you couldn’t help but remember how hard you’d slammed the door the last time you were here. This time, you shut it gently, settling into the plush seat. Sunghoon glanced at you. “Remind me your your address again.”

You gave it to him, then the rest of the ride was quiet except for the faint music playing on the radio. The air inside the Mercedes was icy cold, and you found yourself rubbing your arms.

“Are you cold?” he asked suddenly, his voice breaking the silence and making you flinch a little.

“A bit. I forgot my jacket at the office,” you admitted.

Without a word, he turned down the AC. You shot him a surprised look and muttered a quiet, “Thanks.”

What were these weird, almost pleasant interactions? It was disorienting, acting as if he hadn’t called you a slut while pounding into you just hours ago.

He pulled up in front of your building. Every rational instinct in you said to just thank him and get out, but the small, reckless part of you that liked these quiet moments won out.

“Would you like to come up?” you asked, the words almost slipping out before you could stop yourself.

Sunghoon looked stunned and was silent for so long you nearly rescinded the offer. But then he switched off the ignition and unbuckled his seatbelt in one smooth motion.

You led the way up the stairs, glancing back with a quick, “Sorry, the elevator’s busted, but I’m only on the third floor.” As you fumbled with your keys, you realized you hadn’t even checked if the place was tidy. Shit. You hadn’t expected any visitors—especially not Park Sunghoon.

You pushed open the door and peeked inside. Not bad. At least your laundry wasn’t everywhere.

“Come in,” you said, stepping aside so he could enter. He took off his shoes, scanning the small apartment with that unreadable expression of his. You couldn’t tell if he was silently judging your shoebox space or mentally praising your attempts at decorating.

“Uhm, I’ll get you something to drink. Tea? Water?”

“Water’s fine,” he replied, following you toward the kitchen.

“Okay, you can just—” You stopped dead in your tracks as your gaze landed on the elephant in the room: your punching bag, standing proud in the corner, with Sunghoon’s picture still taped squarely to its center. His face was staring straight at both of you.

You spun around in a panic to check if he’d noticed, but of course he had.

“I see you have very particular ways of entertaining yourself in here,” he said, amusement curling in his voice.

“Oh, god.” You rushed over, trying to untangle the heavy bag from its hook, but it wouldn’t budge. You tried peeling off the picture, but you’d used so much tape that it refused to budge.

“This is not what it seems,” you stammered, attempting to hide the offending evidence with your body.

He just grinned. “I think it’s exactly what it seems. But don’t worry…I use your pictures to let off steam, too.” He winked, and your mouth dropped open at the implication.

“What—?”

Before things could spiral further, Richard picked that moment to waltz out of your bedroom. The cat sauntered past you and headed straight for Sunghoon, tail held high, eyes curious. Sunghoon crouched down and gave the orange tabby a gentle pat on the head.

“And who is this?” he asked, stroking the soft fur.

“Richard,” you said simply, waiting for his reaction.

His hand froze mid-pet, and he looked up at you, stunned disbelief written all over his face. Then an incredulous laugh burst out of him.

“This is Richard…?” he asked, straightening up, still half-laughing.

“Yup.” You grinned, unable to hide it. “Bet you feel pretty dumb now.”

He shook his head, still smiling. “For getting jealous of a cat?!”

You tried to look innocent, but the satisfaction on your face was impossible to miss. “Guess so.”

“Who names their cat Richard?” Sunghoon asked, raising an eyebrow.

“What’s wrong with the name Richard?”

“That’s a grown man’s name.”

You crossed your arms. “I named him after the tiger in my favorite movie, Life of Pi. It felt appropriate.”

He glanced at the orange tabby. “He hardly looks like a tiger to me.”

“He’s very fierce and wise, actually.” You scratched behind Richard’s ear. “I think he can even sense bad vibes in people. He scratched my ex’s face once and a week later I found out the idiot was cheating.”

Right on cue, Richard tapped Sunghoon’s leg with a paw, then purred the moment Sunghoon scooped him up.

Sunghoon smirked. “Guess my vibes are fine.”

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t trust the judgement of a cat.”

Sunghoon scoffed and scratched beneath Richard’s chin, earning another contented purr. “Can’t believe you named him after a tiger,” he murmured.

“Have you even seen Life of Pi?” you asked, suspicion creeping in.

He shook his head. “I never had the time. There’s a tiger in it, I assume?”

Your jaw dropped. “You work eighty hours a week and still find time to ruin my life, but you can’t spend two hours on one of the best films ever?”

“That’s a bold statement.”

“Sit.” 

A half-smile tugged at his mouth. “Yes, ma’am.”

You queued the movie while Sunghoon lounged stiffly on the couch, Richard curled stubbornly in his lap. You tossed him a blanket both to be polite and because your apartment ran cool at night.

“No commentary until after. I take this movie very seriously.”

“I think I can hold my tongue.”

You explained every detail as the movie played—why Richard Parker was the tiger’s name, the symbolism of whether everything was real or just in Pi’s mind, the parts that always made you cry or laugh. Sunghoon watched, surprisingly attentive, occasionally glancing at you as much as the screen.

At some point, you realized your legs were touching. And somewhere between Pi’s first dazzling storm and his heartbreaking plea to the universe Sunghoon’s shoulder arm slipped behind you on the coach. 

You’d occasionally glance his way, noticing the slight furrow of his thick brows during emotional scenes and the small smiles when something amused him. You had never really seen Sunghoon relax like this, unguarded, his features softening as he became absorbed in the story.

At some point, your exhaustion caught up to you and without even realizing it, your eyelids grew heavy.

It wasn’t until morning sunlight started filtering through the blinds hours later that you woke up. Your cheek was pressed against something warm and firm and blinking sleepily, you realized with a jolt that it wasn’t a pillow… it was Sunghoon’s chest. His arm was loosely wrapped around you, his head tilted slightly, his breathing steady and peaceful.

You’d cuddled in your sleep. Oh lord.

After that accidental night on the couch, everything changed in subtle ways. You weren’t exactly friends, but you weren’t enemies either. He still rolled his eyes at your snark, you still muttered under your breath about his god complex—but now, he took you home every night. 

And somehow, that always turned into “let’s just watch something before bed,” which inevitably became shared popcorn, shared blankets, and shared pillows.

Some nights, you’d fall asleep on opposite ends of the couch and wake up tangled together, Richard squeezed somewhere in the middle like an orange pillow. Other nights, there was lingering heat—a kiss pressed to your shoulder, or the back of your neck, when he thought you were already asleep.

You’d convinced yourself you were fine with this weird in-between. You even ignored the fact that, lately, you kind of wanted him to stay over more. You liked seeing him half awake and soft in your kitchen, hair sticking up, pouring two cups of coffee.

But it couldn’t stay sweet forever.

It happened on a Thursday. You were in the shower, humming to yourself, when you realized you’d left your phone on your bed. Sunghoon, making himself at home in your apartment as always, went to grab it for you when it buzzed but the battery died at that moment. He opened your nightstand drawer, looking for a charger.

And found your stash.

He picked up the monster dildo first, brow arching so high it nearly disappeared into his hairline. The rose toy rolled out right after, bouncing off his knuckle and landing with a soft thud on your sheets.

You stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, hair dripping, only to find Sunghoon standing by your bed, your entire sex toy arsenal on proud display in his hands.

You froze. “What the fuck are you doing?”

He looked up, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Well, well… I always knew you were insatiable, but this is impressive.”

You wanted to melt into the floor. “Put those back.”

He turned the monster dildo over in his palm, appraising it like a weapon. “You actually use this? On yourself?”

You tried to snatch it, but he pulled it just out of reach. “Give it—”

He cut you off with a look that said don’t-even-try, and just like that, all the softness of the past week evaporated.

“Why bother with these?” he asked, stepping closer until your knees hit the bed. “When you’ve got me?”

You glared, embarrassment making your skin burn. “Sometimes you’re not around, asshole.”

His smirk darkened. “Then I guess we better make up for lost time, don’t you think?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he pressed a hand to your shoulder, pushing you gently to sit on the edge of the mattress. He tossed the toys down beside you, crowding into your space, heat pouring off him in waves.

“Here’s how this is going to go,” he said, voice dropping to a growl. “You’re going to show me exactly how you use these. And then I’m going to show you why you’ll never need them again.”

He slipped your towel down, his eyes devouring every inch of your glistening skin. He picked up the rose toy and flicked it on, the gentle buzz loud in the quiet room.

“Lay back,” he ordered, and you did—body already shaking with anticipation.

He tossed the rose toy onto the bed, its gentle buzz loud in the quiet room. You hesitated, still flushed from the shower, feeling the heat of his gaze as you settled back against your pillows. Sunghoon kneeled at tj, legs spread, dark eyes devouring every inch of your exposed skin.

“Go on,” he murmured, voice low and coaxing. “Show me how you play when you’re alone. I want to see everything.”

You could feel his eyes burning into you as you pressed the toy against your clit, legs falling open wider for him, not just for the toy’s sake but because the hunger in his gaze made you feel more confident. The rose fluttered, sending tiny waves through you, and you couldn’t help the shaky sounds spilling from your lips.

He leaned forward a little, his voice husky. “Shit,” he said quietly. “Do you always fuck yourself this pretty, or is it just because I’m watching?”

Your breath caught, fingers slipping as your thighs tensed. He smirked, settling a hand over your knee to keep you wide open. “Don’t hide from me. I want to see every single thing you do to yourself when you’re alone. I want to know exactly what it takes to make you come when I’m not here.”

You whined, rolling your hips. “Sunghoon—please—”

He watched the toy kiss you, watched you tremble, and his eyes got darker, voice roughening. “I bet you rub yourself like this just wishing it was my tongue instead of that toy.” He let his hand slide up, tracing your thigh, almost but not quite touching where you wanted him. “Or do you imagine my fingers fucking you open, filling you up until you can’t take any more?”

You nodded, too close to care about being coy. The toy buzzed higher and you gasped, feeling your orgasm start to crest.

But his hand shot out, stopping yours, and he leaned in until his mouth hovered right next to your ear. “Don’t come until I say. You know better than that.”

You whimpered in frustration.

He plucked the toy from your hand, turning it off with a click. “You want to come, princess?” he whispered, and the teasing was gone from his tone now, replaced with a darker command. “Open your legs wider. Let me show you how it’s done.”

His mouth was on you a second later. His tongue slid greedily over your clit, circling, then flattening as he sucked. His fingers pressed into you, filling you in a way the toy never could.

His gaze remained locked on your face. His dark eyes never looked as alive as when he was looking up from between your thighs.

“God, you’re so fucking wet,” he groaned, breath warm against your skin. “You really did get yourself worked up for me. You love being watched, don’t you? Love knowing you have all my attention, huh? You are a greedy little thing.”

You couldn’t answer in anything but incoherent mumbles and moans. His hand pressed firmly over your stomach, holding you still as he sucked and licked, working you closer, refusing to give you the mercy of release until he decided you’d earned it.

“Now,” he growled, voice barely more than a snarl, “cum for me now.”

Your body obeyed before your mind could catch up, coming apart in his mouth, trembling and gasping as your orgasm took over—harder than anything that little toy could’ve ever managed. He licked you through it, holding you until you finally stopped shaking.

When he finally detached from you, his mouth was slick, his eyes still hungry. He leaned over, kissing you deep and dirty so you could taste yourself on his tongue, and whispered, “Next time you want to play with your toys, you do it while I watch. Got it?”

As Sunghoon started spending more nights at your place, he made it a habit to try every toy in your collection. He’d probably tried every last one on you, determined to learn which ones made you come the hardest. But his absolute favorite wasn’t from your drawer at all, it was something he picked out and bought himself. A sleek black plug that vibrated on command.

You’d given him attitude about it. He just smiled, handed you the plug, and watched as you put it in before work. That was three hours ago.

Now, you were walking through the office with the plug buried deep inside, thighs clenched tight even though Sunghoon hadn’t so much as touched the remote yet. You couldn’t deny there was a weird thrill in the risk, in not knowing when or if he’d use it. But after weeks together, you also knew that Sunghoon loved pushing your limits… Especially in public.

“Y/N!” Sungchan’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. He caught up to you in the hallway.

You smiled at him, adjusting the stack of files in your arms. “Hi, Sungchan!”

He grinned back and took half your papers before you could protest. “Hey, where have you been lately? We haven’t seen you at a single dinner since the last quarter ended.”

You scrambled for an excuse that didn’t involve confessing that Sunghoon had been monopolizing all your nights lately. “Oh, uh… I had family visiting, so I’ve been showing them around.”

He nodded, believing it. “Ah, I see. Still, it’d be nice if you could make it to the next one. I miss—uh, we miss you over there.”

You smiled back, heart squeezing a bit at his earnestness. “I miss it too. I’ll definitely be there next—AH!”

A sudden jolt of vibration inside you cut your sentence short. Your knees nearly buckled as the plug came to life rocketing through your core.

Sungchan stopped, concern written all over his face. “Are you okay?”

You forced a brittle smile, fighting to stay upright. “Y-yeah, sorry. Leg cramp. Must’ve overdone it at Pilates.”

The toy started again, stronger this time. You bit down a whimper, gripping the papers tighter as your thighs squeezed together in helpless reaction.

You didn’t need to look far for the culprit. Sunghoon strolled out of the copy room at that exact moment, remote hidden in his palm, satisfaction flickering behind his polite mask. He had clearly listened to every word of your conversation and waited for the perfect moment to torture you.

“Oh, boss!” Sungchan said, bowing politely. 

“Everything alright here?” he asked, his eyes never leaving your face. You could tell from the curl at the corner of his mouth that he was enjoying every second of your squirming.

Sungchan nodded, shifting the papers in his arms. “I was just helping Y/N with these reports.”

Sunghoon’s gaze flicked downward, taking in your shaky legs. “Miss Y/L/N, are you feeling alright? You seem… tense.”

You met his eyes, breathless, fighting not to murder him on the spot. “I’m fine. Really. Just… cramps.”

He tilted his head, feigning concern as his thumb rolled the dial a little higher. The vibration inside you grew wicked and relentless.

“Let me know if you need to step away,” he said, voice low and laced with dark amusement. “I wouldn’t want you to be… uncomfortable at work.”

You clenched your jaw and glared at him, vowing silent revenge.

Sungchan stood there awkwardly, still clutching half your paperwork, completely unaware that you were one second away from dropping to your knees from something a lot filthier than “cramps.”

“Miss Y/L/N, a word in my office,” Sunghoon said finally, voice pleasant enough to fool anyone who didn’t know him. His thumb pressed the remote again and another deep vibration nearly made you cry. Your hand shot out, steadying yourself on the wall as Sungchan frowned in concern.

“I’ll take those,” Sunghoon added, collecting the reports from Sungchan with a civil nod. “Thank you, Sungchan. That’ll be all.”

He waited for you to follow, every step a test of your composure. You walked, feeling every throb, every twist of sensation as the plug kept buzzing on and off in random intervals.

As soon as his office door clicked shut, Sunghoon pressed you back against it and his mouth was on your neck. His hand trailed down your spine, under your skirt, gripping your ass with possessive force. You gasped, hips bucking against his.

He didn’t bother hiding his hunger. “On your knees. Right now.”

You dropped, the plush carpet digging into your knees as you looked up at him. Your hands trembled, but he just pressed the remote again, sending another jolt through the toy. He kept his gaze locked on yours, undoing his belt slowly, his cock was already thick and hard when he pulled it out.

“Keep your hands behind your back,” he said, biting his lip. “If you touch me before I say, or if you stop moving, you don’t get to cum. Understand?”

You nodded, biting your lip as he guided himself to your mouth. The plug thrummed inside you again and the sharp waves of pleasure made your whole body twitch. “Speak”

“Yes, sir.”

“Open that pretty mouth,” he said, smirking as you took him in, hollowing your cheeks and letting spit drip down your chin. 

He thrust in shallowly but he was big enough to make you gag. The plug buzzed again matching his rhythm, torturing you until you were a quivering mess.

“So good,” he praised, one hand tangled in your hair as you sucked him down. “Look at you. Fuck, you’re so pretty with my cock in your mouth. You love it, don’t you?”

You whimpered around him, letting your tongue swirl around his, eyes focused on a vein that kept pulsing agains your nose. He pulled out just enough to let you gasp for air, thumb swiping the mess from your lips. “If you want to come, keep working for it.”

You took him back in, letting him fuck your throat while the toy buzzed harder inside you. You were shaking, tears pricking your eyes from the intensity. He watched you mesmerized, drinking in the sight of you debased and ruined.

He pressed the remote, cutting the vibration just as you were about to tip over, and you whined, hips bucking in frustration. He just laughed, thrusting deeper, hips stuttering as you gagged around him, drool and precum slicking your chin.

“Beg for it,” he said, pulling you off with a pop. “Tell me why you deserve to come.”

You sobbed, voice shaking. “Please, Sunghoon, I’ve been good, so good… Please let me come—I need it, I need you—”

He groaned, thumb stroking your cheek. “Yes, such a good girl.” He yanked you to your feet, spinning you and bending you over his desk. 

He pinned you down with one hand between your shoulder blades, while the other finally reached between your legs. He pressed the remote again but on full power this time, the plug vibrating so violently it nearly knocked the sense from you.

He thrust inside, burying himself to the hilt, the sensation almost too much to bear with the toy still inside you. “You cum when I say. Not a second before. Or I’ll leave you aching all night.”

He fucked you hard against his expensive mahogany desk. It’d been a while since you found yourself in this situation.The first time, you'd been on the verge of quitting. Now, you were in so deep the thought of leaving almost felt absurd.

The room filled with the sound of skin on skin. “So fucking tight around my cock, you’re made to be used, aren’t you? You want everyone to know how filthy you are?”

You could only nod, biting the desk to stifle your screams.

When he finally let you come, it was with a snarl of permission. Your body convulsed, legs trembling so hard you nearly collapsed. He followed with a growl, pulling out at the last second to empty himself around your legs.

He leaned in, breath hot on your ear. “You did good, baby. But next time, if you stop for even a second, I’ll edge you in every meeting until you’re begging on your knees in front of everyone.”

He pulled himself into his pants again nd handed you a tissue with a twisted smile. “Don’t you dare take that plug out until I tell you.”

On Friday, you let your best friend Jiah drag you to a tiny café two blocks from the office. It had been weeks since you’d seen her in person, and she was determined to catch up over overpriced pastries and matcha lattes.

Jiah perched on the edge of her seat, eyes bright. “So? How’s the office drama? Last time we talked you were ready to throw a stapler at your boss.”

You forced a laugh, swirling foam with your straw. “The drama hasn’t died but let’s just say my ways of coping are … better.”

She wiggled her brows. “Oooh, do tell.”

You dodged, asking about her family instead. Jiah launched into updates, including a long tangent about her older sister, Yerin.

“You remember Yerin’s boyfriend? The med-school guy?” Jiah said, breaking off a piece of croissant. “She just found out she’s pregnant.”

Your brows shot up. “Seriously? Weren’t they being careful?”

“That’s the thing… They were doing the pull-out method.” Jiah rolled her eyes. “He swore he had ‘great timing’ Turns out pre-cum can have sperm, so… surprise baby.”

You choked on your latte. “Wait, that can happen? I thought it was only risky if—”

“Nope.” She wiped her fingers on a napkin. “Doc told her even a tiny amount can be enough. She was only a week late before the test lit up like a Christmas tree.”

A cold prickle slid down your spine. Two weeks late. You did a quick mental calculation. Your own period was… what, four days overdue now? Maybe five? You’d chalked it up to stress and the whirlwind that was Park Sunghoon, but now every twinge in your body felt like a warning siren.

Jiah kept talking, but her voice blurred under the thud of your own heartbeat. You flashed back to all the times Sunghoon pulled out only at the last second… or sometimes not at all. Most of the times you’d had sex it was either after an argument or an emotional moment where neither of you paid much attention to anything other than getting into each other’s pants. You thought you were safe enough. Apparently you had thought wrong.

“Y/N? You zoning out on me?” Jiah frowned.

“Sorry,” you said quickly, forcing a smile. “Work headache.”

She reached over and squeezed your hand. “Take a break this weekend, okay?”

You nodded and checked your watch, suddenly eager to leave. You hugged her goodbye outside the café, then headed straight to the corner pharmacy. In your mind you could already see two pink lines and Sunghoon’s cold expression.

Inside the bright aisles, you grabbed the first pregnancy test pack you saw, plus a bottle of aspirin for the impending migraine that was coming your way. Receipt in hand, you tucked everything into your bag and headed home, with your stomach in knots.

In the elevator up to your apartment, you pressed a palm to your flat abdomen and exhaled. Maybe your cycle was just off. It wouldn’t be the first time. Still, you couldn’t shake this weird feeling. The memory of Sunghoon’s hands on your hips, his whispered orders, and the way he sometimes pulsed inside you before he pulled out.

Richard greeted you at the door with a questioning meow. You set the test on the bathroom sink, heart pounding so loud you almost didn’t hear him.

“Give me a minute, buddy,” you whispered.

You pulled out tue test and stared at the white stick on the sink like it was a cursed object.

Three minutes. That’s what the instructions said. Wait three minutes to know what the rest of your life would look like. But you were already sweating thirty seconds in, pacing in tight circles while Richard watched from the hallway as if he somehow knew something serious was happening.

You didn’t feel pregnant. Whatever that meant. You felt tired, bloated, a little nauseous…but you’d asummed it all the work stress, Sunghoon, bad sleep, and probably the coffee addiction you’d reignited. You kept telling yourself that. Over and over. But still… your hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

You set a timer on your phone and turned it face down. The longest three minutes of your life ticked by. You tried distracting yourself by doomscrolling and petting Richard. Nothing worked. Your eyes kept flicking toward the bathroom, it was as if the damn test was whispering your name from the counter.

Finally the timer went off and the sound startled you so bad, you had to steel yourself before you flipped the phone and stepped back into the bathroom.

Two lines.

Two very, very pink lines.

You picked up the test with shaky fingers, hoping maybe your vision was just messed up. You held it up to the light. Still two lines. 

“Oh my god.” Your voice came out hoarse. “Oh my god.”

You sank onto the floor, test still in hand in your shaky hands. Your mouth was dry. Your skin felt clammy. The terrifying, irreversible shift of knowing your body wasn’t just yours anymore. 

The idea settled like a stone in your gut. You didn’t know what to feel or think. 

How far along? When did it happen? Was it that night in the bathroom? His apartment? The goddamn copy room?

You pressed your palms into your eyes, trying not to panic. You were smart. It wasn’t like you to miss something as important as using protection. God, it was because Sunghoon distracted you in ways no one else did. 

You glanced down at the test again. Still two lines. Still screaming the same thing.

Richard meowed softly from the doorway. You looked at him, voice barely above a whisper.

“…What the hell am I supposed to do?”

The next morning, you woke up before your alarm, heart pounding with dread and disbelief. The first thing you saw was the positive pregnancy test on your nightstand as undeniable proof of your stupidity. You grabbed your bag and headed to the pharmacy the second it opened. Just to be sure. Maybe the first one was faulty, or expired, or just wrong. It had to be.

But it wasn’t.

You sat in your bathroom, knees drawn to your chest, staring at two pink lines for the second time in twelve hours. No matter how many times you blinked, they didn’t change. You called your doctor’s office and managed to snag an appointment for later that afternoon.

Now came the harder part which was getting out of work. That meant you had to face Sunghoon.

You waited until after the rush of meetings to slip into his office. He was at his desk, brow furrowed over some report. He barely looked up.

“What is it?” His tone was brisk, but you could hear the familiar thread of concern woven through.

You forced yourself to keep your expression neutral. “I need to leave a little early today. I, uh, have a personal appointment.”

His eyes flickered up. “What kind of appointment?”

You felt your pulse spike. “Just… some stuff I’ve been putting off. Nothing serious.” You tried to sound casual, but even to your own ears it was a little too shaky.

He didn’t look convinced. “You don’t usually ask to leave early. Are you feeling okay?”

You nodded too quickly. “Fine. It’s nothing, really.”

He watched you for a long moment, then nodded, though his gaze was sharper now. “All right. You can go. Just let me know if you need anything.”

You managed a tight smile, thanked him, and hurried out. The relief was only temporary. You felt his eyes on you as you packed up your bag later. You kept your head down, moving quickly through the halls, trying to breathe. You just needed to get out without drawing attention.

But as you stepped out onto the sidewalk, you heard your name.

“Y/N.”

You turned to see Sunghoon coming after you. He stopped in front of you, face tight with concern.

“What’s going on?” he asked quietly, lowering his voice. “You’ve been weird all week, and now you’re leaving in the middle of the day. Did something happen? Is someone bothering you?”

You tried to keep your voice steady. “I told you, I just have an appointment.”

He studied you, eyes searching your face for the truth. “If it’s something serious, you know you can tell me, right?”

You couldn’t meet his gaze. “It’s nothing you need to worry about. I promise.”

He didn’t move. “Y/N—”

“I’ll be back tomorrow. I just… need a day, okay?” You stepped around him, heart pounding.

He watched you go, suspicion and worry etched into every line of his face.

You barely noticed the city traffic as you made your way to your doctor’s office. Part of you wished you could just tell him, have him hold you, promise that everything would be all right. But you weren’t ready.

And you had no idea what he’d do when he finally found out.

You spent the entire afternoon at the clinic—filling out forms with trembling hands, answering questions you barely heard, and then sitting through the blood test, heart racing the whole time. The nurse gave you a gentle smile as she bandaged your arm, telling you the results would be ready the next day. You nodded numbly, thanked her, and collected your things. You felt both lighter and heavier at once—like the truth was closing in from all sides.

Outside, dusk was already settling over the city. You wrapped your coat tighter around you and pushed through the clinic doors, bracing for cold air and the blur of street noise.

What you didn’t expect was to see Sunghoon leaning against the rail, arms crossed, his gaze locked on the entrance like he’d been waiting there for hours.

You stopped short, a fresh wave of anxiety crashing through you. “Sunghoon?”

He looked you up and down, his eyes dark with worry. “So it was a doctor’s appointment.”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. You clutched your purse tighter.

“Are you sick?” he asked quietly, stepping closer, scanning your face for any sign of injury or pain. “Or is it something worse?”

You shook your head quickly, voice barely more than a whisper. “No. I’m not sick.”

He exhaled, but didn’t relax. “Then what is it? You’ve been acting strange all week. Avoiding me, lying about where you’re going—” He broke off, jaw working. “Are you in trouble? Is someone—?”

“No,” you said, sharper than you meant. “It’s not like that. I just… I needed to figure some things out on my own first.”

He let that hang in the air, the weight of your silence stretching between you. Finally, he spoke, voice much softer. “Okay… and did you figure it out?”

You looked away, blinking hard. “I’ll know tomorrow,” you managed. 

He nodded slowly, studying you for a long moment before speaking again. “I have an important meeting, but I’ll take you home first.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I do. Come on.”

He extended his hand toward you, and for a second, you hesitated. But eventually, your fingers curled around his. You’d never walked together like this before—hand in hand, quiet, deliberate—and it felt oddly intimate. Like a threshold you weren’t sure either of you had meant to cross.

If you were pregnant… would Sunghoon want to make things official? Would he ask you to be with him just because of a child? You weren’t even sure what you were to him now. But the thought grew heavier with each step you took beside him.

You bit down on your quivering lip, stopping without meaning to.

“What is it?” he asked, turning to face you. His brow furrowed when he saw your eyes glassy with tears. He stepped close and framed your face with gentle palms. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I…” You didn’t want to tell him yet, not until you were completely sure. But it felt like a weight on your chest, making it harder to breathe. And when he looked at you like that, with concern instead of distance, part of you wanted to believe he wouldn’t hate you.

“I took a pregnancy test yesterday.”

His thumb paused its soothing sweep across your cheek. You swallowed. “Two tests, actually…They were both positive.”

He didn’t speak for eight whole seconds. You counted. And in those eight seconds, your mind conjured every worst-case scenario. Maybe he’d pull away and leave. Maybe he’d say you did this on purpose, and accuse you of trying to trap him. Maybe he’d deny it was even his.

“You’re pregnant?” was all he said, softly.

He didn’t look angry. Or disgusted. Just… serious. Like he was processing.

“I don’t know,” you replied quickly, heart racing. “The tests aren’t always accurate. I looked it up… if they’re expired or stored too long, they can give false results. Or if you think you’re pregnant, your body can sometimes trick itself, and the hormone levels get messed up and—” You stopped, breath catching. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

He watched you quietly, then asked, “And you got blood work today?”

You nodded. “Yeah. But the lab closed early, so I won’t get results until tomorrow.”

“Okay,” he said, exhaling. “I’ll come with you.”

“You really don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do. Of course I do.” His tone was firm but not angry. “Y/N, I’m just as involved in this as you. Just… don’t push me away, alright?”

You looked up into his eyes and, for a moment, saw a flicker of emotion you’d never seen before. Maybe he was nervous too, but he was holding it together for both of you. He didn’t seem angry. If anything, he seemed determined to stay.

It was the first time in days you didn’t feel completely alone. You let yourself lean into that support, just for now.

When you got to your apartment, Sunghoon decided to stay, and you didn’t protest. The thought of being alone right now was almost unbearable.

“Are you hungry? I’m assuming you didn’t eat lunch today,” he said, slipping off his suit jacket.

“Uh… yeah, actually. I didn’t.” You only just realized how hollow your stomach felt.

“I’ll make something for you,” he offered.

You turned your head slowly on the couch, eyeing him skeptically. “You cook?”

“I’m not the best,” he admitted, rolling up his sleeves. “But I make the best fried abalone you’ll ever taste.”

“Really…” you said, doubt dripping from your tone.

He cracked a grin. “You’ll see.”

Turns out he did make the best butter-fried abalones you’d ever tasted. And this was coming from someone who’d always been on the fence about seafood. You scraped your plate nearly clean, only stopping when you realized licking it would cross some sort of line.

You let out a blissed sigh. “This food just fucked me and sucked me good.”

Sunghoon paused mid-bite, eyes flicking up with a look of disbelief and amusement. “I’ve never had my cooking reviewed quite like that.”

You laughed, patting your stomach happily. “No, seriously. If I knew you could cook like this, I would’ve locked you up in my apartment weeks ago.”

He set down his chopsticks, grinning. “Oh yeah? Tell me more about this scenario.”

“I’m not joking! I’ve basically been living off ramen and fast food for months. Half the time I barely manage a smoothie before work.”

He tilted his head, giving you a look that was half playful, half serious. “That won’t do. Especially if…” His gaze slid to your stomach and stayed there, almost protectively. “If you really are pregnant, you’re going to need proper meals.”

You cleared your throat, suddenly overwhelmed by the image of a domestic Sunghoon cooking in your kitchen, massaging your sore feet, texting you pictures of baby onesies, reading articles about parenting and sending you dumb memes about fatherhood. 

Stop. You can’t do this to yourself.

Even if you were pregnant, that didn’t mean you’d suddenly fall in love and ride off into a pastel colored domestic fantasy with Park Sunghoon. You barely tolerated each other just a few months ago. You couldn’t afford to forget that.

You shook your head with a weak laugh. “I can’t believe this is happening. If you’d told me last year I’d be having a pregnancy scare with my boss… the same boss who made me bite my nails bloody from stress, I would’ve died laughing.”

Sunghoon’s smile faded a bit as he mulled that over. “I’m sorry for treating you that way.” 

You looked up, surprised by the earnestness in his voice.

“I mean it. I… I don’t really have an excuse. But if I had to give you one, I guess it’s because I wanted your attention.”

You blinked, surprised. “You wanted my attention?”

He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. I know I went about it the absolute worst way, but I’ve never really been good at… expressing things. And you were so closed off to me at first. It felt like the only way I could get you to even look at me was to—well, be an asshole.”

You weren’t sure what to say. His apology wasn’t perfect, but it was genuine and oddly vulnerable. 

“I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow,” you said at last. “But… thank you for being here.”

He met your eyes. “Whatever the result is, you won’t handle it alone. I mean that.”

You didn’t sleep much. Every time you closed your eyes, your mind spun through a reel of possible futures—some terrifying, some strangely sweet, all overwhelming. By sunrise, you’d already been awake for hours, lying in bed with Richard stretched across your ankles, thinking about what the day might bring.

You moved through your morning routine on autopilot, barely tasting your coffee, feeling your nerves build with every tick of the clock. Work had never seemed so impossible. How were you supposed to focus on emails and deadlines when your entire life could be about to change?

By the time you arrived at the office, the overhead lights felt too bright and the air too cold. You kept your head down, clutching your bag a little tighter than usual as you made your way to your desk.

Sunghoon walked in a few minutes after you. You’d agreed to arrive separately to keep things from looking suspicious but even so, when he passed your desk, his eyes couldn’t help but flick your way for just a moment.

You tried to lose yourself in your work so the day would go basted, but it didn’t work. Every ping from your computer made you jump. Every time someone said your name, your heart pounded.

Mina, your coworker, leaned over the divider. “Hey, are you okay? You look kind of pale.”

You offered a thin smile. “Yeah, just didn’t sleep well.”

She nodded, not pressing, but you could feel her worry lingering as she turned back to her monitor. You wished you could tell her. The secret felt too big to hold, like it might crack open and spill everywhere at any moment.

A few hours later, as you were rereading the same email for the third time, you felt someone pause beside your desk. You didn’t even have to look up to know who it was.

“Can I see you in my office?” Sunghoon’s voice was soft enough that only you could hear.

You followed him. The short walk down the hallway felt impossibly long, every step echoing your anxiety. When the door closed behind you, the world shrank to just the two of you.

He didn’t go behind his desk but leaned back against the edge, watching you for a moment. “How are you feeling?”

It was a simple question, but it nearly broke you. You looked away, blinking fast. “Nervous… and tired. I barely slept.”

He nodded, hands fidgeting with the edge of the desk. “Me too.” A pause. “I kept thinking about a lot of things.”

You looked at him then. He looked tired too, circles under his eyes, the usual sharpness of his appearance dulled by something softer. “I thought about a lot of things too,” you admitted quietly. “What if I am? What if I’m not? I can’t even figure out what I want to happen.”

He let out a slow breath. “Me neither. I used to think I’d hate the idea… you know, of being responsible for someone else, losing control over my own life. But the last couple days… it’s been all I can think about. I keep imagining what it would be like.”

There was a long silence. You watched the morning light creep across his office, a bright line cutting between you on the floor.

“But no matter what happens at that appointment, I want you to know I’m here. I mean it. I know I’ve been an asshole before, but I’m not going anywhere.”

You felt something tight in your chest loosen just a little.

“Thank you,” you said, meaning it more than you thought possible.

You stood there, both of you, caught in a moment that felt both terrifying and fragile and knowing the day ahead would change everything, one way or another.

By the time you left the office, the sky was navy. You walked the two blocks to the clinic in near silence, but it wasn’t awkward. Rather, it felt like gathering strength. Halfway there, Sunghoon slipped his fingers between yours.

You paused in front of the clinic, breaths streaming white in the cold air. Inside waited an envelope with your name and a single line of text that could redraw your future.

Sunghoon rubbed your knuckles with his thumb. “Ready?”

You looked up at him. The sharp boss, the reluctant cook, the man who’d stayed when he could have run—all in one complicated silhouette. 

You inhaled, exhaled, and nodded. “Let’s do this.”

The clinic’s waiting room was almost empty this late in the evening. A muted newscast flickered across a wall-mounted TV; the only other patient was a teen scrolling on her phone. You and Sunghoon sat in the far corner, coats draped over your laps, hands still laced together. Every tick of the reception clock seemed amplified.

You tried counting your breaths—four in, four out—but your pulse wouldn’t slow. If it’s positive, life will change tonight.Strangely, the thought no longer panicked you as it had twenty-four hours ago. Sunghoon’s steady grip helped anchor that.

A nurse finally appeared and called your name. You rose; he rose with you. She led you down a short hallway into a small consultation room, pastel posters about prenatal vitamins on the walls. A moment later Dr. Han entered with a file—your file—clasped to her chest. She greeted you both with the same gentle warmth as the day before and took a seat opposite.

You could feel Sunghoon’s thumb tracing a slow circle over your knuckles. He was outwardly calm, but his hand was slightly clammy.

Dr. Han opened the folder. “Good evening. I have the results of your quantitative hCG test.” She looked up, meeting your gaze first, then Sunghoon’s. “It’s negative. You’re not pregnant.”

The words settled like falling snow—soft, definitive, almost silent. For a heartbeat you simply stared, processing. Not pregnant. Relief rushed in, light and dizzying… and then something else, a bittersweet pang that surprised you.

Sunghoon exhaled so slowly you felt it more than heard it. He squeezed your hand once, gently. There was no visible disappointment or joy—just that same grounded steadiness he’d shown all day.

Dr. Han continued, explaining the false positives. “They can happen for a few reasons: chemical pregnancies that end very early, residual hCG from a recent miscarriage, certain fertility medications, even test strips that have degraded in storage. Urine tests are convenient, but they’re not infallible. Your bloodwork is conclusive, though—there’s no ongoing pregnancy.”

You nodded, swallowing. “Thank you for explaining.”

She offered a reassuring smile, discussed cycle-tracking apps, suggested a follow-up if your period remained irregular, and then excused herself. When the door clicked shut, you finally let your shoulders drop.

Sunghoon didn’t speak right away. Instead, he reached up with his free hand and brushed a loose strand of hair from your forehead, tucking it gently behind your ear. The gesture was so tender it made your throat ache.

“So,” you managed, voice barely above a whisper, “no baby.”

“No baby,” he echoed softly.

You waited for the wave of relief to crest. It did—but it carried an undertow of unexpected wistfulness. You glanced at him, searching his face for clues. He met your eyes and seemed to read the question there.

“I thought I’d feel only relief,” he admitted, tone quiet, honest. “But I… don’t. Not entirely.”

You let out a shaky laugh. “Me either. How weird is that?”

He stepped closer, still holding your hand, his other palm settling warm against your cheek. “Maybe it’s not weird,” he said. “These last few days… thinking about what might happen. It made me see things differently.”

You felt tears prick but didn’t look away. “Differently how?”

He drew a steady breath, the corners of his mouth lifting in a small, almost shy smile—an expression you’d never thought possible on Park Sunghoon. “I realized I want more than late-night reports and stress-induced hookups. I want… an us.Maybe a house that smells like butter-fried abalones,”—the smile widened when you laughed—“and maybe, someday, an actual crib. Not because we panicked into it, but because we chose it together.”

Your heart thudded, a warm bloom spreading through your chest. “You’re serious?” you whispered.

“I’ve never been more serious.” He cupped both hands around your face now, thumb brushing the skin under your eye. “I’ve always been good at work and terrible at feelings. You make me want to fix the second part.”

You covered his hands with yours. “I want that too,” you said, the truth ringing clear once you spoke it. “I want to see what us looks like when it’s not tangled up in deadlines and copy-room insanity.”

He kissed your forehead softly then rested his own against it. “Then we start slow. We can go on real dates, have real conversations.” A wry grin tugged at his lips. “And maybe slightly fewer vibrating toys at the office.”

You laughed, leaning into him, feeling lighter than you had in months. “Deal. Although the toys are negotiable.”

“Good.” He kissed you properly this time, full of promise rather than urgency. When he pulled back, his eyes were warm. “Hungry?”

“Starving.”

“Great,” he said, entwining your fingers as you headed for the door. “Because I’ve been perfecting my abalone recipe.”

“Is that so?” you teased, bumping his shoulder. “Guess I’ll have to lock you in my kitchen for real then.”

His laugh echoed down the hallway, and you felt the future open wide.

Epilogue- 8 Months Later

You sat perched on the padded table, swinging your feet lightly, dressed in a pale blue smock. Your hands were folded over your barely-there bump.

You were twelve weeks along.

Sunghoon was sitting in the chair beside you, one leg crossed over the other, fingers drumming lightly on his thigh. His tie was loosened, sleeves rolled to his elbows. Despite the long day at work, he didn’t look tired. If anything, he looked anxious. 

“I still don’t get how it happened this fast,” you muttered under his breath, glancing sideways at him. “We were careful.”

He shrugged, lips tugging into a small smile. “Were we? I remember at least two times that we definitely weren’t.”

“Two?” You blinked. “I can name at least four.”

He laughed softly, leaning closer and resting his hand against your belly. “Well. One of them worked.”

The nurse came in, breaking the moment. “Doctor Han will be in shortly to do your first ultrasound,” she said kindly. “You’ll be able to hear the heartbeat today.”

Sunghoon stiffened beside you. You reached out and took his hand without looking. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, but the word cracked slightly. “I just… hearing it makes it real.”

You squeezed his hand. “It is real.”

He nodded once. “I know. Doesn’t mean I’m not scared shitless.”

You turned to him, voice gentle. “Me too, but we have each other.”

He brought your joined hands to his lips and kissed your knuckles. “Always.”

The doctor arrived shortly after, warm and chatty as always. You laid back on the table and pulled the gown open. The cold jelly over your stomach made you jolt. Sunghoon stood by your side, fingers still laced in yours, eyes glued to the screen scared that he might miss it if he blinked.

And then there it was. A grainy flicker, pulsing steadily in the center of the screen.

“That’s the heartbeat,” the doctor said with a small smile. “It sounds strong and regular. Everything looks perfect.”

The sound filled the room like thunder. Tiny, rapid thuds that made your chest swell. You blinked fast, swallowing the lump in your throat. When you looked up at Sunghoon, his eyes were glassy.

He was crying. Not a lot—just one tear, maybe two—but the sight floored you.

He didn’t say a word. Just leaned down and kissed your forehead, staying there for a long second, breathing you in.

Later, in the car, he reached for your hand again and said quietly, “I don’t think I knew what love really felt like until now.”

You looked over, a bit surprised. “Because of the baby?”

“Because of you,” he said. “And now… both of you.”

You turned your face toward the window, hiding the stupid smile curling on your lips, blinking fast again.

At home, Richard sat perched on the windowsill as usual like a little orange gargoyle. When you kicked off your shoes, he jumped down and padded over to inspect you.

Sunghoon leaned in from behind, resting both hands over your stomach. “Alright, Richard. You’d better get used to sharing her.”

Richard meowed.

You smiled. “That sounded like reluctant acceptance to me.”

“Good enough,” Sunghoon murmured, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

The house felt warm and safe. There were butter abalones in the microwave and ultrasound photos on the kitchen counter.

And for the first time in your life, waiting didn’t feel scary.

feedback is always appreciated! <3 tysm for reading

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Littlest Heartbeat || Clark Kent ||

A/n: Soon to be dad Clark, also I can't stop writing for this man. (I love clark, he's one of my favorite dc boys)

The moment he heard it, time stopped.

It had started as any other morning—soft sunlight pouring through the kitchen windows, the scent of pancakes lingering in the air, and you humming under your breath as you moved around in one of his shirts, bare feet padding across the tile.

But then… he heard something he wasn’t supposed to. Something impossible.

A second heartbeat.

Smaller. Softer. Rapid like a hummingbird’s wings.

He froze mid-sip of his coffee, eyes locked on the spot where you stood with your back to him, completely unaware that your husband—Superman—was hearing something not even you knew yet.

Or maybe… something you did know.

You had been quieter lately. Touching your stomach absently. Pausing to smile at nothing. Reaching for food you normally avoided. And just last night, he’d caught you staring at a tiny pair of socks in a shop window.

God.

He set the mug down slowly. Carefully. The ceramic clink sounded deafening in the quiet room.

He couldn’t let you know he’d heard it. That would ruin it. Whatever moment you were building up to—whatever plans you had to tell him—it was yours to give.

And his to treasure.

“Clark?” Your voice broke his daze, sweet and curious. “Everything okay?”

He smiled. A little too wide. A little too warm. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

You raised an eyebrow, walking over and slipping your arms around his waist. “Thinking? You? What a shock.”

He huffed a quiet laugh and kissed your forehead, lingering just a little longer than usual. He wanted to press his ear against you. To listen again. To be sure. But he didn’t. He wouldn’t steal this from you.

“I love you,” he murmured instead.

You looked up at him with surprise, then softened. “I love you too, Clark.” A pause. A nervous glance. “So… I was wondering if maybe you’d want to go out for dinner tonight. Just us.”

“Of course,” he said, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Anywhere you want.”

You smiled, lips twitching like you were holding back a secret. And he played along, heart thudding in time with the one he wasn’t supposed to know about.

That night, as you sat across from him in a candlelit booth, fingers nervously fidgeting with your napkin, he listened to the tiny heartbeat thrum beneath the soft layers of your dress.

You looked up, eyes shimmering with a tearful kind of joy. “Clark… I’m pregnant.”

And he acted surprised. Let the emotion wash over him like a tidal wave. Let his hands tremble as he reached across the table and cupped your cheek. “Are you serious?” he whispered.

You nodded, and he kissed you. Fully. Reverently. As though holding his whole world in his hands.

And in a way… he was.

Because even though he’d heard it first, even though he’d known—

nothing compared to hearing it from you.

[finelinevogue]

(no) need for speed

summary - you’re forced to do go karting with Lando even though you’re not a great driver

pairing - lando norris x girlfriend!reader

word count - ~1k

“I don’t want to do this anymore.”

You pouted as Lando placed a helmet over your head, tucking your balaclava onto your chin properly to make sure you were safe.

He chuckled as he paid attention to what he was doing rather than you, making your pout impossible to disappear.

“You agreed to do this.” He said.

“And why didn’t you stop me, huh? Such a bad boyfriend.” You closed your visor aggressively, continuing your tantrum.

Your visor immediately went back up, Lando holding both sides of your helmet so he could focus your gaze on his now that he was finished.

“Bad boyfriend?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Hmph.”

“Who said he’d drive you to get you a McFlurry after this?”

“You.” You rolled your eyes.

“Does that sound like something a bad boyfriend would do?”

“No.” Your eyes softened, hoping he didn’t actually believe what you were saying.

Lando had known you for three years now, so there was part of you that hoped he would know when you were messing around. Like now, for example.

You were taking out your anxiety on him, which was unfair but Lando knew that that’s all it was.

“You’ll be fine. I’ll be right out there with you.” He promised, resting his forehead against the top of your helmet to be closer to you.

“I know.”

“And it’s just for a socials video. Nothing life-altering.”

“It’ll be life-altering if I crash.”

“I won’t let that happen. Plus you know if anyone’s going to crash it’s going to be me, babe.” Lando laughed and it managed to pull a smile out of you too.

“Okay.”

“You ready?”

“Yeah.” You nodded.

Lando’s hands leave your helmet. You turned around to walk towards your kart, Lando patting your arse gently as you did so.

You turned around to give him a ‘really’ look and he just had the biggest grin on his face.

“What?” You asked.

“You look so unfairly good in a racing suit.” He smirked, shaking his head as he blushed a little. It was crazy to think that you managed to get him this flustered still.

You gave him a quick pose before continuing to move to your kart.

You stood next to it and waited for Lando to give you a hand to step into it.

Next to you both were the social media managers for McLaren, along with a team of videographers, in order to film you both for some content.

You held onto Lando’s hand tightly as you stepped inside the kart, before weaning yourself down into the seat. Lando crouched down beside you to help put your seatbelt on correctly, checking it wasn’t too tight.

“All good?”

“Yep.” You said.

“Okay. Let’s race.”

“What about your helmet?” You asked with concern.

“I’ve had enough practice putting it on.” He laughed, rubbing your cheek with his thumb through the visor.

He then got up and walked towards the kart behind yours on the racing track. You turned around to make sure he got his helmet on okay and watched as he effortlessly got into his kart.

You held up a thumb for him.

He responded by putting up his thumb.

A worker of the go karting facility explained the rules and such you again, making sure you were okay, before leaving you to have a moment.

The lights above the starting line flickered red as they prepared you to start.

You heard Lando rev the engine of his kart behind you and you couldn’t help but smile over how crazy this was. You were about to go head to head with an F1 driver and you had taken 4 times to pass your driving test.

The red lights started to light up in a row and you waited until they went green before stepping on the gas pedal.

Lando went straight past you, even though he was behind you to start, before you had even the opportunity to step on the pedal.

You could imagine him laughing to himself as he sped past.

You grumbled to yourself before speeding off yourself.

You took a left at the first bend, swerving so you wouldn’t hit the barriers. Lando was well ahead by the time you came around the corner.

You pressed on the pedal again, flooring it until you came to the next corner. You steered sharply, clearing the corner before driving down the next straight.

It was a very easy course.

However, it wasn’t something that Lando pointed out or even insinuated considering that this is probably the easiest course he’s ever driven.

Ten laps later and Lando having passed you four times already, you picked up a bit of speed to see if you could keep up with him.

It only took one turn for that to go wrong though.

You steered a little too excitedly into the bend and span in your kart.

You pressed your brakes immediately and tried to steer out of it, but you were already spinning.

“Shit.” You swore repeatedly.

Then came the impact.

Your body shook as your kart impacted with the side of the wall. It wasn’t as bad of an impact as if you hadn’t pressed the breaks, but it ricocheted through your body all the same.

How did F1 drivers do this going five times faster?

You’d only crashed for ten seconds before Lando’s kart pulls in swiftly behind yours. He doesn’t check anything before leaving his kart and running over to you.

He lifted your visor first before lifting his. He had to see you with his own eyes, not through a screen.

“You hear me?” He asked.

You nodded.

“Are you hurt?”

You shook your head because you didn’t think so. Only your pride was.

He reached under your helmet to unclasp it, before taking it off for you.

His hands brushed over your face and hair to check for anything significant. Even though he could see nothing was visibly wrong, he was still worried.

“Had to prove me wrong didn’t you? Had to prove that you could crash?” He tried to joke and bring a sense of humour to the situation, but even you could tell he wasn’t too happy.

You smiled, but didn’t laugh because your body was shaking a little from the shock.

“Alright c’mon. Out you get.” He tucked his hands under your armpits and lifted you up as you pushed up with your legs.

“I’m okay.”

“Just give me peace of mind, please.” He insisted.

Once you were out of the kart Lando pressed his hands over crucial parts of your body to double check that everything was okay and nothing hurt.

Lando was assured that you were okay after you gave a quick kiss to the side of his helmet.

You couldn’t help but get flustered - like every other time - at Lando wearing his helmet.

You watched Lando’s eyes crinkle, “What?”

“You look good with your helmet on.”

“Oh do I? Seems like someone is doing better than I thought then.” He chuckled, making you blush.

“I’m okay. Better with you.” You gave him a reassuring smile. “Let’s not do this again though.”

“Yeah, too right. I’ll do all the driving from now on, otherwise I’ll be in an early grave thanks to you.”

“Sounds fine to me.”

<•>

You’re getting changed out of your racing suit in the changing room when you notice it.

A big purple bruise on your thigh from where your body hit against the side of the kart. It’s not huge but it’s big enough that it will hurt when you lay on it.

You slipped on your jeans and Lando’s borrowed hoodie, wincing when your jeans made contact with your skin.

Lando 🧡 : u ready yet? xx

You: 5 mins

You: think i’ve hurt myself 🥲

You didn’t get a respond from Lando but a minute later he comes bounding into the changing room, a lady behind him shouting that he isn’t allowed in here.

“Hey.” He sounded rushed, running his hand through his freshly showered hair.

“What are you doing?”

“You said you were hurt.”

You smiled and then pouted over how much he cared about you. It made your heart twinge with an overwhelming amount of love for him.

“It’s just a bruise on my leg.”

“Wrapping you in bubble wrap next time.” He shook his head before giving you a soft kiss to your forehead.

“I’m okay with that.”

“Alright,” He gave you another kiss to your forehead, “We’ll get that McFlurry afterwards. You deserve it.”

“Yes, because I’m such a great driver.” You smiled, giving him a tight hug before he left you.

“I love you, babe, but even I can’t agree with that.”

[ellerial]

Danny steps through the portal in full royal messenger regalia (i.e., royal clothes minus the crown and a short little shoulder cape instead of the fanciest guy). And into the watchtower. He had meant to only talk to Batman or at most the big 3. Instead, it looks like at least 30 people are here.

No problem. This is fine. This is totally okay! Aaaand they're aiming their weapons at him. Actually, fair. That's on him, tbh. Unknown drops into their secret clubhouse, of course they're going to be touchy!

Danny clears his throat and stands as tall as possible while floating in the air.

He's totally got this. No worries. Just be professional. Like, regal or some shit. Channel his inner Dora, whichever one is most applicable at the time.

"Greetings, heroes of Universe 5055-XDT. You may call me Phantom. I have come as a courtesy in response to the realignment of your universe with the Realms and the transitional cycle."

"Realignment." Oh shit. That was Batman. Actual factual, wearing leather and growling a word out as a statement instead of a question, Batman.

Keep your shit together, Danny. You're here on official business, damnit!

Is that Martian Manhunter?!?!?!

No! Bad, Danny. Focus!

"That is correct. There have been several instances of time and space manipulation within this universe." Danny gives a pointed look at Superman and glares at the speedsters. "We assisted in correcting most of the anomalies that this unauthorized manipulation manufactured, but at some point, this universe became slightly misaligned with the rest of the Realms.

This has caused several issues, including waste runoff in the form of toxic pools and the propensity for beings in your universe to be misaligned with the transitional cycle inducing immortality. This issue has been corrected." Bam! Perfect! Professional af!

There's a murmur amongst the heroes as Batman considers the information. "Expand." Wonder Woman gives a side eye to Batman. He pauses a moment before adding, "Please."

Danny grins wide. "I would be happy too! First, all pools of the sewage runoff have been removed, and the cracks between realities that created them have been permanently fixed." Danny pulls out a small disc and activates a hologram showing the biggest pool he found in the Himalayas. "As restitution, we have also cleaned all contaminants from the locations, so there is no threat of further transitional issues."

"Pardon, Phantom. What do you mean by transitional and the transitional cycle?"

Danny beams at Wonder Woman and tries to keep his stanning on the inside. "The cycle of life and death. The realignment has ensured that all those who were outside this cycle have now returned. It is the main reason for my coming to you today." He looks out across the sea of heroes with fondness.

"As the protectors of this Earth, and across this universe, I knew it would be best to provide you with this information so as to prepare you for any changes you may encounter.

All those who were once immortal no longer are. Be aware that you have several beings in this universe who may be... discontent with the discovery of their renewed mortality." The hologram disc showed the faces of many people both on Earth and off. Including Vandal Savage, Ra's al Ghul and what looked like a 7 year old girl with pigtails.

"This also means that certain curses will no longer be as potent as the souls that have fueled them will be able to move on." Danny looks directly at Batman and his bats and birds that were around the room. "Gotham, especially, will finally be free of some of her chains. It may be difficult as balance reasserts itself, but eventually, some of her madness will be cured." Fuck it. Wink at the hottie. Ooh, a blush! Hell yeah!

"The ease for your dead to return to the living has been made more difficult. It is not impossible, but it is now much more unlikely as your souls will have a clean line to the beyond instead of the, well, cluster that it was before." Slipping on that profesh vibe, Danny! Ignore the hottie in black and red.

Nope. Nooo, Danny. Dont wink!

Smirk is good. Smirk can be written off ... or something. Probably.

Danny is about to continue when a green sticky note appears before him, causing the heroes to tense once more. "Ope! My time is up." He bows slightly. "It has been my absolute honor to meet heroes who have done so much in the name of protecting those who are unable to protect themselves." He makes a motion crossing both arms over his chest and then dropping them down to the heroes.

"If you have any more questions, please ask the sad trench coat man in the back. Yes, you, Johnny. Don't think I didn't see you back there trying to hide. You're still in the clear, don't you worry. And I've almost collected all your soul claims so when you die, you're not torn asunder. I know it worked out super well for you that first time, but I'm gonna need you to just fuckin' quit it, my guy."

"'Preciate that, Phantom."

Danny laughs. "I dunno, Johnny. Time's got plans for you. You and I both know how that's not always a good thing." Danny tucked his sticky note and disc back inside himself.

"Welp, this has been super cool, but I've gotta get back to the Realms. Please feel free to decline, but would it be possible to return and meet you all properly when I'm not on a tight schedule?" Danny clasps his hands in front of him and looks at Batman with the biggest puppy dog eyes he could manage. "I'll even go to whatever location you deem appropriate and communicate beforehand before showing up!" Batman continued to just look at him. "And I'll give you 1 question fully and honestly answered!"

"5 questions."

"3! But I want to be able to get some autographs! Not a bad bargain for 3 honest questions to someone who knows about life, the universe, and everything! I won't even answer 42!" He puts up his hand to his mouth and leans into Wonder Woman and stage whispers, "even though that IS the answer, surprisingly enough."

"Agreed." Batman and Danny shake hands before Danny floats up a little higher.

"It's been an absolute pleasure! I appreciate you all not attacking me when I just randomly showed up! In gratitude, I give to all present the blessing of minor convenience for the next 3 months! Farewell!" Danny gives a little finger wave to black and red before he rips open another portal and leaves.

All the heroes have varying degrees of freak outs with the implications of what was just provided, especially as Constantine and the rest of JLD confirms everything Phantom said.

[poison-doll]

i'm remembering that one day where i was reading that whole thing about how it's impossible to be a female pervert in the lacanian sense bc any rejection of castration and sublimation of the libidinal impulse by a woman reasserts their place as a fetishized object, and then moments later read the callout thread about the woman who would sneak into theme parks to have sex with roller coasters, and the callout thread had the exact rhythm and timbre of a post accusing someone of sexual violence. and like the part they were upset with was only partially the "masturbating in public thing," it was mostly the "with a roller coaster" thing. and then it came out that the person who wrote the callout did so bc she was married to the roller coaster that kept getting fucked on, but in a purse and nonsexual way.

I've never wanted to have sex with an airplane but I think it's cool how some people want to have sex with airplanes. I think the world is a richer and more colorful place for it.

[edamameiyok]

𝘶𝘩 𝘰𝘩 (𝘪𝘮 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦) (𝘮𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘭 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳)

"𝙤𝙝 𝙣𝙤, 𝙞'𝙢 𝙛𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙣 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣, 𝙤𝙝, 𝙞'𝙢 𝙛𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙣 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚. 𝙞 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙜𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙙𝙤𝙬𝙣, 𝙝𝙤𝙬'𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣 𝙞𝙩 𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙖𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙?"

𝗌𝗒𝗇𝗈𝗉𝗌𝗂𝗌: 𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗅𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖺 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝖺𝗇𝗂𝖾𝗅𝖺 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗌𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗌, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍. 𝗁𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝗂𝗇 𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗈𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾. 𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗌: 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 𝗐 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍. 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗀𝖾!𝖺𝗎. 𝗉𝗍. 𝟤 𝗍𝗈 '𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇' 𝖺𝗇: 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖺 𝖱𝖤𝖠𝖫 𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗒𝖺𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝖼. 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗉𝗎𝗋𝗉𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒. 𝖢𝖶: 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝖼: 𝟣𝟢𝗄

: ̗̀➛ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: ʟᴀʙʏʀɪɴᴛʜ - ᴛᴀʏʟᴏʀ ꜱᴡɪꜰᴛ

You’ve never been the best at communication. 

It’s one of those things you’ve always had a hard time with. When it came to communication, it also meant jumping the hurdle known as confrontation, and that concept you avoid at all costs. 

The last time you had to confront someone, you were consumed by your emotions, an intense feeling of betrayal that you just couldn’t shake away. It led to you leaving behind the one person who knew you like the back of her hand. It was a moment that made you crawl away from the world for a while, wanting it to swallow you whole for the entirety of the winter break that followed. Fortunately for you, though, there was one thing– more specifically, one person, who kept you grounded that entire time. 

It was none other than your endearing yet somewhat annoying roommate, Megan Skiendiel. 

On the days you wanted to stay in bed forever, she made sure to make her presence known despite being a thousand miles away. You often groaned at the incessant way your phone rang during that break, wanting to ignore it, but deep down knew it would be impossible. It was Megan, for God’s sake. If you were to ask her what the definition of boundaries was, she’d most likely feign cluelessness and blame it on her dyslexia (which, for the record, had nothing to do with anything). 

But you couldn’t ignore how the impromptu phone calls and spam messages were somewhat successful in stopping you from crashing out every day. They often painted a smile on your face despite how much it hurt to do so. Every time you thought about the Latina and what she did to you, Megan was always one phone call away. The Chinese girl wove herself so intricately into your life that it was an easy decision to make when she asked if you would like to move into an apartment together. 

Once winter break ended, the new semester started, and your patience was wearing thin with the school year. As you walked back into your dorm room after a month of being away, it dawned on you that you had to endure yet another semester of your own personal hell, in other words: nursing school. Before you could have dwelled on it further, however, Megan, in all her glory, burst through the door. 

Her luggage was long forgotten by the doorway as she ran up to you, jumping into your arms. You caught her easily, as if you had done it a million times before. Her loud giggles in your ear, the squeals of excitement, the way she looked at you as if it had been years since your last encounter– those were all considered when you said yes to her proposal later that semester. 

That’s how you now find yourself getting deja vu as you set the last of the boxes from your car down onto the floor of your new room. You look around the empty space, feeling a wave of excitement wash over your body as you think about the possibility of a new start, a new year to begin anew. For the first time since that day with Daniela, you feel optimistic about what the new semester could hold. 

You walk around for a moment, taking mental notes of where things should go on the walls. The room already had a bed, a desk, and a nightstand – all ready for you to claim. As you walk closer to the bed, you notice an orange, square post-it note stuck on the wall above it. A small smile spreads across your lips in knowing, only growing wider when you see the familiar handwriting on it.

Megan let you know before you arrived that she’d be out for a few hours, needing to get last-minute necessities for the apartment you two now share. You take the sticky note off the wall and bring it closer to your eyes to read. A soft chuckle escapes your lips at its contents, placing it down onto your nightstand that sits next to your bed with a shake of your head. 

“Sorry I couldn’t greet you, I got the wrong size sheets for my bed ): 

Excited to live with you again!

-Meiyokie.” 

These Post-it notes are a new routine for your roommate dynamic. 

You’ve started to find more of these notes in the apartment, and it has only been a week so far. 

With your sophomore year fastly approaching, you’ve begun to feel more nervous, checking your school schedule repeatedly to make sure everything is still going according to plan. You feel Megan watching you from the other side of the couch, her legs stretched out onto your lap while your laptop sits atop them. You and your roommate opted for a cozy night in the apartment, the living room illuminated dimly by the twinkle lights you and Megan decided to hold onto after moving out of the dorms. 

There isn’t much to the apartment, and most of the decorating was done by Megan, but it felt like home. The walls hold pictures of you, Megan, and the various other friends you and the girl met last year. 

You narrow your eyes at the screen through your glasses, mumbling curses under your breath as you voice your thoughts out loud.

“You keep stressing yourself out.” You hear Megan say in a matter-of-fact tone. Her words cause you to groan, throwing your head back against the couch. 

“Because I am stressed. I’m always stressed.” You say while pinching the bridge of your nose in irritation. 

From the corner of your eyes, you see your roommate smile softly. She reaches over to tug at the sleeve of your hoodie. “Yeah, but you have three more days until classes start. Take a night to chill out with me,” She frowns and tugs at your sleeve even harder, demanding your attention. “You promised we’d finish that chapter of ���It Takes Two.’” You sigh at her words, glancing at her with a small smile. There’s a pounding in your chest that feels familiar, but you try to ignore it, not wanting to put yourself in more distress than you already are. 

For a moment, you stare at each other, holding each other’s gaze. Her hand still holds onto your sleeve, and as much as you want to make a comment on the intense staring contest you’re both apparently engaged in, you’re too preoccupied with the confusing urge to lace your fingers with hers. It’s confusing because you’ve never had to give it a second thought before, just doing it. After all, it was normal, and it was only Megan. 

And Megan stares at you in a way that makes your throat go dry. Her newly dyed pink bangs slightly curtain her brown hues, and you have to force yourself to look away, suddenly becoming overwhelmed by how cute your roommate looks underneath the low lighting. You shut your computer, leaning forward to place it on the coffee table before getting up from the couch. “Fine, set it up while I go fill up my water bottle.” 

She murmurs a ‘Fuck yeah,’ under her breath, causing you to roll your eyes, an amused smile on your lips as you grab your water bottle off the floor. You pad toward the kitchen and let a yawn escape your lips. The sound of Megan’s Switch turning on fills the silence in the room as you walk to the fridge, stopping in your tracks when you find a new orange Post-it note on the door. 

“Can you buy milk tomorrow?

-Meiyokie”

You look over your shoulder at your roommate, quirking an eyebrow at the girl. She pays you no attention as she continues her task of starting up the game. You find it silly when the Post-it notes have requests that could have been a text message, but then again, you always humor Megan’s antics and unexplainable actions. You look away from the girl, placing your water bottle on the counter before opening one of the drawers next to you to find a pen. 

For a moment, you ponder a reply, going over your schedule for tomorrow in your head. 

You take one more glance at Megan to make sure she isn’t looking, smirking to yourself as you turn around to write your message back onto the note. 

“No.

-Y/n”

The next morning, you decide your first stop will be the grocery store. 

After the first day of classes, you walk through the front door, and Megan immediately springs from the couch, running toward you with open arms. 

You stumble back a bit, catching her in your arms. You’re usually able to set your bag down first before she greets you at the door, but Megan’s puppy-like personality shines as she holds you tightly. You let out a tired laugh, ignoring how your cheeks burn at the way she seems so excited to see you despite always being in each other’s presence 24/7. Exhaustion from classes catches up to your body, but as you hold onto your roommate, you allow yourself to melt in the embrace, her perfume filling your senses when you bury your face into the crook of her neck. 

“Classes went well?” Megan asks, and you hum in response, feeling slight disappointment when she pushes you away slightly to get a better look at you. She tilts her head, and you realize she’s still waiting for your reply. A heat creeps up your neck as you clear your throat, letting go of the girl so you can finally set your stuff down.

You walk to your room, and as expected, Megan follows right behind you. You walk inside and set your stuff down by your desk. “Yeah, it went better than I thought.” You reply, plopping down in your desk chair. Megan walks over to your bed and sits down, pulling her legs up to sit criss-cross. 

Your eyes focus on the way she begins to play with the ends of her hair. “You think it’ll go better than last year?” She eyes you curiously as you lean your head back comfortably against the chair, a sigh of relief escaping your lips. 

“I don’t have classes with you know who this semester, so I’d like to think so.” A mental image of Daniela crosses your mind briefly, and you grimace, suddenly gripping the hem of your sweater as the events of last year come to mind. “It’s already feeling like a 10/10.” 

Megan giggles at your words and flops onto her back on your bed. She spreads her arms out and looks up at the ceiling, letting out a loud sigh. “That’s good to hear. I don’t know how much more weeping I can handle from you.” You glare at your roommate and scoff. 

“I was not weeping,” You claim, rolling your eyes. Megan turns her head toward you and squints, a slight smile on her lips. 

“Is that what you want to believe?” She shoots back, laughing loudly when you get from the desk chair to walk over to the girl. Megan suddenly curls up into a fetal position, squealing when you begin to swat at her shoulder. “Y/n! Stop!”

You jab a finger into her side, still glaring. She squeals in response and tries to cower further away from you. “Are you gonna take back what you said?” 

Megan glances up at you and sticks her tongue out, quickly hiding her face again to avoid your attacks. “Why would I? It’s true.” Her words are muffled due to her face being pressed against your mattress. You stare at her for a moment before pushing her slightly, turning around to walk out of your room in defeat. As you leave, you hear Megan shout, “Gotcha, stupid!” 

She squeals again when you run back inside the room, jumping on top of her with all your weight. 

Two weeks go by in the blink of an eye, and you’re starting to become somewhat suspicious of how smoothly everything was going for you. 

It was almost too good to be true. 

You sit on the floor of the dance practice room, your back against the wall as you scroll through your phone mindlessly, waiting for Megan to be done with practicing her routine. Light chuckles leave your lips every so often at the sound of your roommate and Lara bickering about the choreography.

They have been at this for three hours now – you're only getting to witness the peak of it since arriving in the room 30 minutes ago. You decided to join them since there was nothing else to do after finishing class for the day, and if you were being honest, going home and not seeing Megan wasn’t an ideal alternative. 

And the one thing you dislike about this semester so far is the fact that Megan never seems to be home. 

Last year, she was always there to greet you. She would either be sitting on her bed, playing a video game, or at her desk, attempting to study for an exam she had coming up (in actuality, though, she was just waiting for you to come home, so she could have an excuse to stop).

This semester, however, Megan is much busier in comparison. You’re proud of the girl for earning a spot on the college’s dance team, but you were starting to miss the small moments you two would share in between your packed schedule. 

You’re starting to notice how quiet the space can become without Megan’s presence. It was almost annoying how alone you felt without the girl barging into your room every five seconds. Loneliness never used to bother you– the quiet was something you always preferred.

But after living with Megan for a whole year, it seems you’ve grown accustomed to at least hearing a low hum in the distance. But the little notes she would leave you all over the apartment make it a bit more bearable. 

A smile etches itself onto your face as you remember the one she left you this morning. It was a simple knock-knock joke, and if you were being honest, you still don’t quite understand the punchline. But you laughed anyway, a laugh that hurt your ribs and took your breath away. You don’t admit it, but it’s a laugh reserved for Megan and only her. 

Once the music starts again, you look up from your phone, placing it down onto the floor before pulling your legs up to your chest. You rest your chin on top of your knees and hug them tightly, your eyes following Megan’s sharp movements.

The Chinese girl is a completely different person when she’s dancing, and it captures your attention in every way. Her alluring expressions through the wide mirror, the sway of her hips, the sheen of sweat on her skin that glistens beneath the bright, fluorescent lighting – it all takes your breath away. 

You have to tear your eyes away from your roommate, the heat in your cheeks becoming too unbearable. 

Your eyes begin to find the floor much more interesting to look at, keeping them trained there until the end of the song. When you look up again, Megan is smiling excitedly at Lara, jumping up and down while squealing about how well that run-through was.

You stare at her, hugging your knees tighter in hopes that it would be enough to calm the beating in your chest. In your head, you shuffle through the different dad jokes you know, planning to leave her one in hopes it would get her to smile even more. 

It doesn’t surprise you that the library becomes a second home for you a month into the semester. 

You trudge into the building with no motivation left for the day. You follow behind Yunjin and Chaewon, nursing friends you made last semester. They’re in the year above you and are nothing like their cohort, who always seem to be the center of the nursing program’s latest gossip. It’s the bare minimum, but you’ve come to find out that they’re genuinely nice individuals to be around. 

As you all sit down at a table, you continue to tune out their bickering, not interested in their heated discussion about what xyz did last night with abc��s ex. You begin to unpack your belongings even though you can feel your eyes drooping slightly. There was no time to rest, however, because according to your schedule, you have a lot more on your plate than you realized. 

You think it’s a miracle you managed to not only survive your first year in nursing school, but also pass the entire year with good marks. If there was one good thing that came out of your fallout with Daniela, it had to be the motivation it gave you to be better.

Not to be better than her, but to show yourself that you can continue in the same program without her by your side. But now, it’s your sophomore year, and from what Yunjin and Chaewon described to you, it’s the most important. 

“It’s the year where they start weeding out all the stupid people–” Chaewon told you on the walk to the library. Your eyes widened at her words, but she ignored you, continuing the sentiment, “Everyone is competing for a spot in the upper division program– only like, 200 people from the cohort get in.” 

The older girl’s words stick with you. It runs marathons in your head as you unknowingly begin to space out at the table, your eyes glued to your nursing textbook that sits in front of you. Yunjin notices your silence and looks over at you. She sighs at the distant look on your face, nudging Chaewon with furrowed brows. “You scared them.” Her words snap you out of your trance, looking up at the two girls with wide eyes. 

Chaewon shrugs and crosses her arms, looking between you and Yunjin. “I was being honest! If you wanna do well, then you have to understand how hard it’s gonna be!” Your shoulders slump at her bluntness, a slight frown on your lips. 

“Are you serious that only 200 people get into upper division? I mean that’s– half the fucking program.” 

Yunjin opens her mouth to respond, but Chaewon quickly speaks, “Only 200, and I’ve heard that more people end up dropping out during our year because of how hard–” She’s cut off by Yunjin swatting her shoulder, her eyes narrowed in warning. Chaewon rubs her shoulder and begins to bicker with the other girl again, leaving you with your thoughts. 

You bite your lip, the stress of classes feeling heavier on your shoulders. Your hands find the sleeves of your hoodie, and you grip them tightly, desperate for some sort of comfort. As the two continue arguing, you decide to get to work, not wanting to waste another second of your time.

You shake your head, letting go of your sleeves before reaching over to slide your laptop closer to you. When you open it, you’re met with a blue Post-it note stuck to the screen, and the sight of it makes you forget Chaewon’s words for a moment.

A slight smile fights its way onto your lips as you read the words scrawled onto it. You can tell Megan was in a rush to write it based on how it was written– letters closer together and some words a bit illegible to read, but nonetheless, you understand every bit of it as if it were a language only you and your roommate could speak. 

“Kick some nursing school ass today! No practice tonight so we can hang out :) 

Let me know when you’re leaving the library, I’ll order pizza or sumn…..

-Meiyokie”

Even as much of a pain in the ass nursing school is starting to become, you still manage to find the time to play games with Megan. But as you watch your character on the screen die after a long and enduring battle, you’re starting to wish you and her could have been doing anything else. 

Megan screams loudly at the screen, tossing her controller onto the other side of the couch before throwing herself dramatically into your lap. You calmly place your controller down before slapping your roommate’s arm, looking down at her with narrowed eyes. “Megan! I told you to stop screaming every time we lose.” 

“Well, I told you we should’ve dropped at the floodgates!” She whines while kicking her legs like a child. You look away from the girl and over your shoulder to glance at Lara, who looks at you both in amusement from the loveseat. 

The Indian girl shrugs her shoulders and giggles softly at her best friend’s poor sportsmanship. “I don’t know, Y/n… I don’t know what the fuck that means, but yeah, you guys should have dropped at the floodgates or whatever she said…”

You scoff at her words while Megan gets up from your lap suddenly. Your head snaps toward her, and you can’t help the weird feeling you get when you take in the sight of her in your hoodie, so oversized that it swallows your roommate. 

She sits on her knees and points at you, proclaiming that she’s “always right.” Megan continues to babble nonsense about the match, but you continue to stare at her with quiet admiration.

The glasses on her face slightly askew, her bangs in disarray due to all the moving she had been doing the last few minutes, the way she continues to list all the ways you both went wrong in the game but a wide smile still appears on her lips, the whiskers on her face deepening with every word she says. 

No other thoughts come to mind when you look at Megan, and it’s been that way for a while. You can’t pinpoint when it started, and you aren’t quite sure what the name is for that feeling you get every time she looks back at you, but you do know that it is a major inconvenience. 

Your roommate suddenly grabs you by the shoulders, shaking you frantically out of your thoughts. The look you give her resembles annoyance, ignoring the fluttering in your chest when she leans in closer to your face.

“Y/n! My brother in Christ, are you even listening to me?” She exclaims with a pout on her lips. You stare at her with wide eyes, suddenly feeling at a loss for words. Your brain short-circuits when your eyes flicker to her lips, and you can’t help but wonder what the fuck is going on inside your head. 

Instead of responding like a normal human being, you reach up to her face, straightening out her glasses. “They were a bit crooked… Sorry…” You murmur the last part, pulling back your arm quickly whilst avoiding her eyes, not wanting to reveal the pink on your cheeks.

Megan’s giggle rings in your ear, and you feel the couch shift slightly. When you look back, your roommate is off the couch and is suddenly running down the hall, yelling, “I have to pee so bad! I’ll be back!” 

You let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding, feeling more relaxed now that Megan was no longer in your space. The feeling she left you with still lingers, but you continue to push it down, scolding it for being so stubborn. 

Once the sound of the bathroom door closing is heard, Lara immediately turns to you with a sly smile on her face. Her brow is raised in a way that makes you mentally prepare yourself for whatever she’s about to tell you. “Just so you know, when I went in the bathroom earlier…” The Indian girl starts, leaning back against the loveseat with her arms crossed. “I took my time reading all those little Post-it notes on the mirror…” 

There’s something accusatory about Lara’s tone that makes you feel more embarrassed than before. You try to keep your composure by clearing your throat, your hands gripping your knees tightly. “Oh yeah… It’s like, our thing now… I guess.” The way Lara smirks tells you that you’ve failed at being nonchalant– then again, why was there a need to be? You weren’t lying; it was something you and Megan did. 

And it happens to be something that you enjoy more than anything else in the world, and that fact in itself makes you more desperate to play into the act you’re trying to portray. 

“Your thing, huh?” Lara’s voice is full of teasing, and it makes you want to throw yourself off the balcony. 

You look away and scoff. “Don’t start with me, Lara.” 

But the other girl doesn’t let up, she continues her point even though you’re trying to tune her out, “So, did you have a good day, Y/n? Looks like Megan really hoped you did…” 

You groan at her words, turning back to the girl with narrowed eyes and crossed arms. “Lara! Shut up!” She only laughs, her hands raised in defense at the glare you throw in her direction. You allow her to continue laughing, a deadpan expression on your face when it starts to feel more ridiculous by the second.

When the laughter finally subsides, she shifts comfortably into the loveseat, just staring at you with a knowing look. After another minute of silence, you start to feel frustrated by her look, groaning, “What, man?!” 

“Don’t, “What,” me. You know exactly what I’m thinking.” She continues to stare at you with that look, as if allowing you to hear her thoughts. But you refuse to hear her out, leaning back against the couch with your head bowed down to your lap. 

You stare at your hands that continue to grip your knees as you whisper, “I don’t know what you’re thinking.” Lara hums in response. The sound of the bathroom door opening again causes your heart to beat rapidly once more, and before Megan enters the room again, you hear Lara whisper to you. 

“If you like her, just say something, pussy.” 

You walk out of your room the next morning, still feeling quite distressed over your conversation with Lara from the night before. Your intentions for the day are to clear your head, maybe regain some sort of clarity over the situation. But you widen your eyes when you find the girl that has been plaguing your thoughts sprawled out on the couch, glasses on her face, with her mouth slightly agape.

Her quiet snores cause a slight smile to grace your lips. You look at the front door, then back at Megan, your heart beating louder as the seconds tick by. Your legs move on their own as you tiptoe closer to your roommate, not wanting to disturb her.

You slowly pick up the laptop that’s surprisingly still lying on her stomach despite her odd position on the couch. You close it, placing it on the coffee table before leaning down to take the glasses off her face.

You’re successful in not waking Megan, and in the corner of your eye, you spot a stack of blue Post-it notes sitting on the table. You set her glasses down on top of her laptop, grabbing the first pencil you see and taking the Post-it notes to write her a message before departing from the apartment without a trace. 

“You’re really pretty. That’s all.

-Y/n.”

You stick the note onto her laptop. Your eyes fall on your roommate again, and you swear your heart could beat out of your chest any minute now. 

You’re falling in love with Megan Skiendiel. That much is obvious. 

Days are harder than others most of the time. 

As another month passes, there hasn’t been a day when you aren’t consuming an energy drink or two to keep yourself awake enough to continue studying. The stress of competing for a spot in upper division is starting to become more present within your cohort, and that feeling you had at the beginning of your freshman year begins to resurface. The ‘every man for themself’ attitude comes back tenfold, and the pressure feels more suffocating every time you walk into the nursing building. Even Yunjin and Chaewon have commented on it, telling you how glad they were to be done with those days. The homework is never-ending, and the exams happen back-to-back with no chance for you to take a single breath. 

And on top of that, you also have your feelings for Megan to deal with, and that’s a situation in its own league. 

When you finally arrive back at your apartment after another long day, you open the door and step inside with a huff. The frustration you’ve felt since your first class (which was at 8:30 AM) is finally ready to be released as you slam the door shut behind you. You thank God Megan isn’t home to witness the inevitable crash out because, if you were being honest, you’re at your limit. You rip your bookbag off your back, intending to throw it across the room, but from the corner of your eye, you spot an orange blob staring at you. 

Why is it staring?

Your head slowly turns toward the object, widening when you realize what you’ve come face-to-face with. 

It meows at you, tiny and orange. It’s a kitten, in your apartment, on your couch, staring at you as if you were the intruder. You slowly place your bookbag down onto the floor before tiptoeing toward the small creature.

It meows again, even louder, more confidently. As soon as you kneel in front of the couch, the kitten walks up to you, its big green eyes staring at you in curiosity. You look around the room frantically, unsure of what to do in this situation. On the coffee table, a white Post-it note sits, and you quickly grab it, knowing Megan is behind the new friend. 

“Thought it would be better to ask for forgiveness. 

Anyway, his name is Fanta. 

At the store rn getting him things. I’ll be back!

-Meiyokie”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, placing the post-it note back onto the table. A sigh escapes your lips as you look at the kitten again, his eyes still on you. He tilts his head and meows. 

“Fanta is a stupid name.” You deadpan at him. He meows again and walks closer to you, bumping his head into your chest. His purrs can be heard, and you can’t help but soften at the sound, reaching your hand up to pet his tiny, orange head.

Fanta leans into the touch, his eyes closed as he continues purring even louder. You bite your lip to suppress your smile as you reach out to scoop the kitten into your arms. He rests against your chest cozily as you stand to your feet, a soft look in your eyes as you continue to stare at your new roommate. 

“I hope you got enough cuddles with your mom before she left because when she comes back,” You lean your head closer to Fanta, cooing, “I’m gonna kill her.” Fanta meows, closing his eyes again to purr in your arms. 

“Yeah…” You coo again, walking toward your room. You step over your bookbag, deciding that a little break to get to know your new friend wouldn’t hurt your next exam grade. “Wanna see my room? I have a window and it gets so so cozy in the morning, yes it does!” 

Once another week of hell passes, Megan decides (against your will) that you need to take a break– a real break. 

“It won’t kill you, Y/n,” your roommate said as she applied her makeup in front of your full-length mirror. “Just another party. It’ll be fun.” 

But as you stand with her and Lara, the loud music booming from the speakers and the other college students drunkenly bumping into you as they try to make their way through the house, you can’t help but feel a bit aggravated.

Lara and Megan continue talking to each other, gossiping about another student from their major. You try to listen in on their conversation, but the music makes it nearly impossible, so you decide to take another sip from your cup, hoping the alcohol will help your sour mood. 

Suddenly, you feel someone grab your arm. Your eyes widen, tearing your arm away from their grasp out of instinct. When you turn around, your eyes soften at the culprit, who happens to be Yunjin.

She smiles at you sheepishly and tries to yell over the music, “Sorry! I got excited when I saw you!” As if on cue, Chaewon appears at her side as well, her cheeks flushed, and the usual intensity in her eyes is more gentle, a twinkle in them that you’ve never seen outside of the nursing building. 

When you notice this, you take the opportunity to point at her, an amused smile on your lips. “She’s drunk.” 

However, it’s still Chaewon, and she’s quick to glare at you. “No, I’m not! I’m having fun.” 

“Drunk.” You quip back, your smile growing wider when the shorter girl begins to pout. Amidst the teasing, a hand slides into yours, lacing your fingers together with practiced familiarity. You know it’s Megan, and you squeeze her hand, silently letting her know that you haven’t forgotten her presence.

A chuckle escapes your lips as you gesture to your roommate, pulling her close to your side. “Yunjin, Chaewon, this is my roommate, Megan.” 

Megan waves at your friends, greeting them with a smile. You then introduce Lara and allow them to become acquainted. For a moment, you glance at Megan and eye the way she plays with a strand of her hair.

She seems to be staring off into space, and you can’t help but frown, picking up on her habit. “Are you okay?” You ask, and Megan’s eyes crinkle in confusion. 

She laughs suddenly, her eyes avoiding yours as she responds, “Yeah. I’m fine, why?” 

You furrow your brows at her reaction, reaching out to grab her hand that was preoccupied with her hair. A chuckle escapes your lips as you whisper, “Whenever you get nervous… You do that thing…” Your thought trails off as you look at Megan.

Her eyes are wide, and her cheeks are red due to the alcohol she’s been consuming. The last time you counted, Megan was on her third drink, and you were going to make sure the next one would be her last. 

She continues to stare up at you, her brown eyes looking into yours. You watch as she pulls her bottom lip back by her teeth, and the action puts you in a slight trance with a shiver running up your spine. “Like… you mess with your hair…” You tell her in a low and breathless tone. 

Megan tilts her head at you, and there’s something unreadable in her eyes that you can’t decipher. Your eyes flicker to her parted lips, and you wonder what would happen if you closed the gap between you.

The tension in the room is palpable, and maybe the alcohol in your system will make you brave for once. But before the thoughts could consume you further, Megan is suddenly pulled away by Lara, unintentionally breaking the moment between you and your roommate. 

You watch as Lara inserts Megan into the conversation with Yunjin and Chaewon, and it allows you to release the breath you’ve been holding. You bring the cup up to your lips to take another sip from your drink, your eyes scanning the room to rid yourself of the thoughts you were having previously. 

Suddenly, a familiar laugh causes your ears to perk up instinctively, your head snapping toward the owner of the sound. Your heart drops to your stomach when you see her. 

It’s been months since you last saw her. The last time was in April, right before your freshman year ended, and it was in passing. You were walking to a meeting you had with one of your professors, and she was walking the other way, probably having finished class. 

You both glanced at each other, a twinkle of familiarity between you. But quickly, you’re both averting your eyes, staring straight ahead as you walk past each other like strangers. It was as if the semester that had just passed never happened. The friendship you shared with the Latina throughout high school doesn’t seem to fit in this timeline; it doesn’t make sense for it to. 

At a moment’s weakness, you found yourself stopping suddenly. Slowly, you turned around and hoped that maybe, she’d be looking back at you. 

She already left the building, however. No trace of her to be seen, and you turned back around, your hands gripping the straps of your bookbag as you continued toward your destination. 

And now, here she was, laughing loudly with Manon and Sophia. You notice how her hair is back to its natural color, and for some reason, the small detail softens you. It reminds you of the Daniela you knew in high school. The one who was always there, the girl who stuck by your side no matter how hard things became.

Daniela in high school would have never hurt you the way Daniela did last year. She would have ripped that girl apart and scolded her for being so stupid. 

But the Daniela you knew in high school no longer exists. Instead, in her place is a person you can’t recognize, and you have no desire to know her. 

You step outside of the party, needing a breather after seeing the Latina again. Something about it felt almost too real— it felt like everything you’ve ever tried to forget forced itself back into the forefront of your mind. 

Memories of your old best friend claw their way up your spine, it whispers in your ear coldly, reminding you that there was, in fact, a time in your life when Daniela Avanzini used to sleep next to you in your childhood bedroom. You shake your head and tell yourself that it doesn’t matter, that none of it ever mattered that much to begin with. 

It didn’t matter when she left for college and never spoke to you again. 

It didn’t matter when she left you behind and never even sent you a ‘happy birthday’ text. 

It didn’t matter when you saw her again that day in the quad. 

It didn’t matter when she tried to enter your life again and you let her back in, despite your hesitation. 

And it definitely didn’t matter when she proved you right, leaving you again with a broken heart and wondering what you could have done differently.

Your eyes dart around the backyard of the house in an attempt to find something to distract you from the way your throat begins to tighten. There’s a sick feeling in your stomach, and you want to blame it on the alcohol, you want to blame it on everything else but what’s truly bothering you. 

But then your eyes catch a glimpse of someone sitting at a swing set. And then you realize. 

It’s the same swing set from last year, and now Daniela sits in it, just like you did that night. 

Seeing her there causes you to freeze; the sight of her there, where you sat a year ago, knocks the wind out of you, and all of the emotions you’ve tried so hard to avoid rush at you like a monsoon. When she looks up and spots you, you realize you can no longer run away.

There’s no other choice but to admit the obvious: it did matter, it always mattered to you.

Tears spring to your eyes as you stare at the Latina, and a bit of you panics when she begins to stand up, as if scared she’d walk away. Before you register what’s happening, you hold your hand up and step forward. “No! Wait!” You plead, and she stops in her tracks, her eyes wide at your words. 

You take a deep breath as you take her in. You’re supposed to be angry; you’re supposed to be taking this opportunity to yell at her and scream for what she did. The fact that she led you into false security just to use it against you should sicken you.

But as you take closer steps toward your old friend, you begin to notice how she fidgets with the ring on her finger. The nervous habit reminds you that, no matter how much a person changes, bits and pieces of them will continue to live on. 

Somewhere deep inside Daniela lives the girl who sat next to you in high school chemistry. 

When you’re only a few feet away from her, words don’t come to mind. Everything you wanted to tell her feels so far away, and you almost convince yourself to turn around and forget this ever happened. But the grip you didn’t realize you had on the hem of your sweater reminds you that there is something you want to say. 

You stare at Daniela with a bittersweet smile. It’s gentle and a bit forgiving, but it’s bitter nonetheless. “You were my best friend, Dani.” Your voice breaks when you say her name, as if it would be the last time you ever will. She lets out a shaky breath at your words and tilts her head, her eyes glossy with tears. 

A sense of déjà vu begins to overwhelm you. Suddenly, you’re sitting on the steps of her back patio again. It’s the night of her graduation party, and you promised that things would never change. 

“You were my best friend too, Y/n,” she whispers. For a moment, you both hold each other’s gaze, the creaking of the swing set quiet behind Daniela. To your surprise, she throws her arms around your neck and pulls you into a tight embrace.

You stand in shock as she rests her head against your shoulder, and your hands almost reach up to push her away, but instead, your arms wrap around her waist, pulling her close. 

For a single night, you pretend this is normal. You pretend you kept your promise. 

“I’m sorry I’m not brave like you,” she whispers into your shoulder. You don’t respond, only holding her tighter. Time stays still with Daniela; it allows you both to linger in each other’s presence. 

After a while, you pull away from the Latina slowly and you take a step back, a small smile on your lips. “I should go,” You tell her, your voice wavering slightly. She nods and looks down at her feet, shaking her head as if she had been in a trance. 

Daniela takes a deep breath before looking back up at you with a genuine smile. “Oh yeah, don’t wanna keep Megan waiting, right?” 

“Wait, what?” You furrow your brows at the Latina, confused by the implication in her words. When she doesn’t respond, you continue to press, “Megan… What?” Daniela giggles at your expression, and it causes you to feel even more at a loss. 

She crosses her arms over her chest and shakes her head, clicking her tongue before looking away from you. However, you can still see the sly smile on her face. “You guys are cute together.” 

 Your eyes widen, and your cheeks turn pink in embarrassment. You rub the back of your neck as you murmur, “We aren’t… Together…”

Daniela rolls her eyes and looks at you with a raised brow. “You can’t fool me, Y/n. I see the way you look at her…” Her amused smile falters slightly, but she regains composure, clearing her throat. 

She forces a smile as she continues, “It’s the way you used to look at me.” 

The last few days have been weirdly quiet in the apartment, and it has honestly been driving you crazy. 

You’ve noticed a change in Megan. The notes around the apartment remain, but since the party, it has been the only form of communication you’ve had with the Chinese girl. Every morning since then, she has been the first one to leave the apartment.

There are more nights than usual when she stays on campus to practice her routines. You try to reason that the girl must have another competition coming up that requires her undivided attention. 

But after another ‘good morning,’ Post-it goes ignored, you conclude that she must be avoiding you. 

The thought of Megan being upset with you takes up space in your mind, so much so that you find yourself leaving in the middle of a lecture just to corner her at home. It’s a plan you devised after you found another Post-it note in your textbook, and even though it was an old one, it was still enough to drive you crazy. 

You sit on the couch with Fanta in your lap, waiting patiently for Megan to arrive home from class. When Megan finally walks through the door, you can tell that your presence shocks her based on the way she freezes at the doorway.

Your heart drops when she doesn’t greet you like usual, simply walking toward the kitchen without saying a word to you. You continue to pet Fanta as you speak up, “What’s going on with you?” 

Your roommate opens the fridge to grab the Brita that’s inside. She refills her water bottle as she responds, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“You’ve been avoiding me, Meiyokie.” You look down at Fanta, who purrs gently when you scratch a certain part of his neck. When you look up, you see Megan placing the Brita back inside the fridge. 

“I’m not avoiding you, Y/n.” Her tone is sharp, as if she’s already tired of the conversation. You can’t help but feel annoyed, leaning down close to Fanta. 

“Fanny, I think there’s a stick up your mommy’s ass…” You snicker at the kitten. He looks up at you, then continues to bathe himself, blissfully unaware of the tension that radiates between you and Megan. The Chinese girl glares at you and huffs, setting her water bottle down loudly onto the counter.

The sound causes Fanta to jump from your lap, suddenly scurrying into Megan’s room for safety. You shake your head and stare at Megan in disappointment. “Your son doesn’t like it when we fight.” 

“We aren’t!-“ Megan exclaims, but quickly lowers her voice, running a frustrated hand through her hair. “We are not fighting. And I’m not avoiding you.” 

You raise an eyebrow and cross your arms over your chest. “Megan, we haven’t had a real conversation in days.” Your roommate sighs and rubs her face with her hands.

There’s an exhausted look in her eyes, and from the way she stands so tensely, you assume that it’s because the dance team has been working extra hard the last few weeks. But, you wouldn’t know, this is the first conversation you’ve had with Megan in a while, after all. 

She looks down at the counter and shrugs. “It doesn't even matter, okay?” You frown, noticing the way she avoids looking at you. 

“It does matter because you’re upset, and I just wanna know why.” You reach over to the coffee table, grabbing the pad of sticky notes that sit there. You then stand up from the couch and walk over to your roommate, setting the pad down in front of her. She looks at it, then at you with a curious look in her eyes. 

“What?” she asks softly. You gesture to the sticky notes, grabbing a random pen you see from the corner of your eyes, and place it in front of the brunette with a gentle smile. 

“This seems to be the easiest way for you to communicate with me, so do it.” Megan scoffs, pushing the pad away from her. 

She looks away from you again with a roll of her eyes. “Now you’re making fun of me,” she murmurs, and you shake your head again. You slowly slide the sticky-note pad closer to you and grab the pen, intent on starting the conversation. A million thoughts run through your head, and you aren’t the best with your words, but for Megan, you try. 

“Not talking to you sucks and it honestly makes me sad when we don’t ):

-Y/n”

You slide it back to Megan, poking her arm with the pen. She glances at you, then at the note you wrote. She frowns and takes the pen from your hand to write down her response. 

“Really? 

-Meiyokie”

“Really.

-Y/n”

“Are you and Dani talking again?”

-Meiyokie”

You pause before writing down your response. Your eyes scan her words over and over again, quirking an eyebrow at your roommate. She doesn’t acknowledge you, though, simply sliding the Post-it note pad closer to you, urging you to respond. 

“No… Why would you think that?

-Y/n”

“I saw you guys hugging outside at the party.

I thought you probs forgave her.

-Meiyokie”

“Is that what’s been bothering you?

-Y/n”

She stares at your question as you await her answer. Suddenly, she looks up at you and nods, frowning slightly. “I told you it was stupid.” 

You shake your head and reach out to Megan, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. You squeeze gently as you reply, “That’s not stupid.”

“It is. Because, I don’t even know why it made me so upset…” She sighs, placing her head in her hands. “Like, it literally made me so mad.” You remove your hand from her shoulder to begin rubbing her back, frowning at the distress evident on her face. 

You lean close to Megan and whisper, “You should have told me.” 

“I know, I’m sorry.” She looks up at you and smiles weakly. She leans against your shoulder, and you instinctively wrap an arm around your roommate, pulling her close to your side. Megan wraps her arms around your torso and sighs again, closing her eyes. “I’m your best friend, right?” 

Her words reveal the depth of her feelings toward seeing you and Daniela together. Your chest flutters at the thought of Megan being afraid to lose you, even if it was only your friendship. 

You hold Megan even tighter, content with the fact that you two were okay again. “You’re my best friend, Meiyokie.” 

Thanksgiving Break finally arrives, but being away from Megan and Fanta bothers you a lot more than you’d like to admit. 

Megan sits with Fanta on her lap at your desk, and they watch you continue packing for your trip home. Your roommate sighs dramatically as you walk over to your closet for the nth time. “You know Fanta knows you’re leaving, right? Cats can like, sense that shit.” 

“Don’t tell me that,” You groan as you rummage through your clothes for another outfit to pack. When you glance at them, your heart breaks slightly at the sight. Megan pouts as she holds Fanta in her arms like a baby, cradling him as he paws at her face. 

You bite your lip to suppress the laugh that wants to escape your lips as you watch Fanta struggle in Megan’s arms. She continues to ignore him, cooing, “Look at him! He doesn’t want you to go…” Fanta suddenly meows in response, jumping out of Megan’s arms to run out of the room. You watch as he disappears, and you look back at Megan with a grin. 

“He’s heartbroken for sure…” You turn your back on your roommate as you reach for the clothes you’ve been looking for, grabbing them so you can finally finish packing. Megan stands up from the desk chair and walks over to your luggage, still pouting at you as if you were leaving out of spite.

You fold your clothes and pack them into your bag, shaking your head when your roommate begins to jab a finger into your side. “Meiyokie, you’re making this a lot harder than it needs to be.” 

“Good,” She quips, poking your side again with a huff. “You can stay longer.” 

You roll your eyes as you place the last of your belongings inside your bag, close it, and then zip it up. Megan stares at you sadly, and that look alone almost makes you consider staying one more day. But you already told your mother you’d be home tonight, and she is very excited to hear about any new developments between you and Megan. Your cheeks burn at the thought, and you shake your head, grabbing your bag from your bed. 

“Wanna walk with me to my car?” She sighs but still smiles at you, grabbing your bag from your hands. 

You give her a questioning look as you reach for it back, but she pushes you away playfully, wagging her finger in front of your face. “Nope! I’m helping!” She charges ahead of you and holds your bag with both her hands, obviously struggling with it. But you allow her to walk out the door with it, watching her with amusement as she tries to get it down the stairs. By the time you reach your car, she’s dragging it along the road, but you couldn’t care less; you love watching Megan smile.  

Finally, she throws your bag into the backseat, shutting the car door with a loud huff. Megan looks up at you with her hands on her hips, a bit out of breath. Her pink bangs are sticking out everywhere, and she has a silly grin plastered on her face.

As you stare at your roommate, you can’t help but feel overwhelmed by your feelings toward her. You think about finally telling her, finally pressing your lips against hers. But you know it’s not the right time, and you aren’t sure when that time is, but right now you know it wouldn’t go well. 

You wrap your arms around Megan, hugging her close to your front. She immediately hugs you back and buries her head into your neck. Her lips ghost over your skin as she whispers, “Have a good break, Y/n.” 

Your eyes close as you run a hand through her hair. “You too, Meiyokie.” 

You’re not even that far away from the apartment when you realize you should get gas before making the trip back home. 

It takes everything in you to make the decision, weighing your options in your head before finally pushing yourself to make the smart choice. You reach into your pocket for your wallet, groaning when you realize you must have packed it away into your luggage.

You look behind you at the backseat, and your eyes spot an orange Post-it note sitting on top of your bag. A chuckle leaves your lips as you reach out to grab it, shaking your head at your roommate. You wonder if this was why she was so insistent on taking your bag. 

The smile on your lips falters as your eyes scan her words. You reread them over and over again, making sure you aren’t just seeing things. 

“Oh by the way I’m in love with you. 

And I think you love me too. 

Also I stole your hoodie before you left.

I’ll see you after break :) 

-Love, Meiyokie

You’re out of breath by the time you finally get home. You’re sweating profusely, and you look a bit like a mess when you bust through the door. Megan runs out of her room with wide eyes, and you notice how she has already changed into your hoodie. “Y/n? Did you forget something–?”

“You’re in love with me.” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them. She tilts her head at you, her eyes softening in realization that you must have read her note a lot earlier than she expected. 

“Is that a question or a statement?” She asks, and for a moment, you stand there, your eyes wide and your mouth slightly agape. No response escapes your lips, and you watch as Megan shrugs nonchalantly, as if she didn’t just drop a bomb on you. She steps forward and bites her lip, nodding slowly. “Yeah, I am,” She confesses, a bit breathless. 

Your brows furrow as your heart begins to do flips in your chest. When you realized you were in love with your roommate, the possibility of her loving you back never occurred to you.

You were more than content with having Megan by your side, just as your friend, despite how you felt toward her. Sure, it would have torn you apart, but you’ve seen something like this before, and the thought of losing Megan in the process killed you. 

But Megan looks at you with stars in her eyes. She lights up every time you walk through the door, and you feel so stupid for not seeing it before. 

While you’re stuck in your thoughts, you don’t notice how she bows her head, suddenly not looking at you anymore. When you look at her, your eyes widen, reaching out to place your hands on her shoulders. She looks up at you, her lips quivering, and her eyes glistening with tears. 

You shake your head, quickly pulling her into a tight hug. “Fuck wait— Megan. I didn’t mean to make you cry,” Your voice becomes shakier as you continue. “I just— I didn’t think you’d feel the same way. That’s impossible...” She pulls away slightly to look up at you, sniffling.  Suddenly, she slaps your arm with a pout on her lips. The action causes you to wince, and you look at her incredulously. “What the hell?! What was that for?!” 

“For being so oblivious and dumb!” She says half teasingly but slightly more annoyed. Megan pulls you back into a hug, her arms looping around your neck and her face buried into your shoulder. She murmurs, “I waited so long for you to say something.” You chuckle, wrapping your arms securely around her waist. 

You whisper, “Sorry. I'm just... Surprised.” You hold Megan closer and you relish in her warmth— the warmth of being loved by Megan Skiendiel. 

“Is that a bad thing?” She suddenly asks. You unwrap your arms from her waist, settling your hands on her hips so you can look at her.

You shake your head, a soft smile on your lips. “No. I’m glad it’s you.” 

She smiles at you, her whiskers on display as she looks into your eyes. The sincerity in them makes your knees go weak, and now that you’re in this moment with her, you have no idea what to do next. You’ve imagined it a few times before, but they don’t compare to what it actually feels like, how it actually feels to be loved back.

Before you can process what’s happening, Megan is on her tippy toes and kisses you as if her life depended on it. 

You respond immediately, your hands pulling her closer. Your lips move against hers in a slow rhythm that makes your head spin. You messily thread your fingers into her hair as she places her hands on your cheeks, sliding them down to your shoulders. You’re both lost in the kiss– lost in each other, and you can’t imagine being anywhere else but here. 

A loud meow interrupts the moment, and it causes you both to pull away slightly. You’re both giggling at each other with flushed cheeks as another meow is heard. You throw your head back dramatically, groaning, “Fanta! What the hell!” The kitten only meows again, and you can feel him rub against your leg. You look down at him, and he stares up at you expectantly, as if demanding your attention. 

Megan giggles and hugs you tightly, resting her head against your chest. “I told you! He was gonna miss you…” You roll your eyes at her words, but your smile remains. Fanta begins to circle you and Megan and meows at you both, waiting for someone to give him what he wants.

You sigh, kneeling to scoop the kitten into your arms. He begins to purr in your arms, and Megan looks at you with a twinkle in her eyes. “I think you should stay one more day.” 

Fanta meows again, and you smile, your heart feeling fuller than it ever has. 

“I can’t think of anything else better to do.”

an: the long awaited pt. 2 to 'in another dimension' ! i hope u all enjoyed some fluff from me finally :) pls lmk what you think!!!

requests are closed

[daithedune]

Clark kent is a munch. Cw: Porn without plot, no use of y/n, oral (f receiving) descriptions of bodily fluids.

And that's no surprise. He's an absolute pussy-eating obsessed man. His supernatural strength just makes him hold back. He's a little chicken-hearted, he doesn't wanna hurt you, of course not. They would be the biggest mistake of them all and he wouldn't forgive himself for it.

so when he discovers he doesn't have to hold anything back to eat you out, it feels like a breath of fresh air.

He humms moans and muffles them against your pussy as he's drooling all over it, your thighs around his head, his hands pining you down; holding you hard enough to leave handprints.

"that's it, baby, one more..." He says, his tongue quickly doing it's job, going from your hole up to your clit and sucking harshly on it.

You moan, its impossible not to, he's just using his all for this and you're shaking on the bed.

"yeah, yeah that's it-.." Clark gets two fingers i side and hits the perfect spot as you squirm , but his hand is holding you down perfectly so you don't run away from his touch. Your orgasm hits you hard, your hand gripping the sheets as if your life depended on it, his name coming out of your mouth on a loud moan as you came, coating his face with your fluids.

Your chest was sweaty as you tried to catch your breath. He kept circling your clit softly so the stimulation was enough to let you come down of it slowly and not to overstimulate you more. He smiled at you, his face shiny from the liquids on it, a mixture of your pussy juices and his own drool.

"you okay, love?" He asks, as if he didn't just ruin you.

[nerdy-alto]

There was so little understanding (if any) of ADHD when I was growing up in the 70's/80's, and definitely not any for the quiet kind. I was an A+ or D- student, nothing in between. Because either I "got" it and excelled, or I didn't and gave up. Even when I "got" it, I would constantly get incomplete marks for being incapable of completing anything my subconscious deemed busywork. Why write the words out five times if I already knew how to spell them in the first place? A couple of high school teachers HAAAATED ME because I blew off the homework yet consistently got the top score on tests.

And then there were things like math, which escaped me, until one geometry teacher actually explained something that baffled me in a different way! Using physical objects! Amazing. I was not the only one in that remedial sophomore level class that felt enlightened that day, although I may have been the only senior.

If at any point someone had pulled me aside and said "this seems like dumb bullshit (or impossibly difficult) to you because your brain operates a little differently from others. That's why everyone thinks you're smart but not living up to your potential. Here are some tricks you can use to muddle through the gruntwork, and here is a different way to look at this seemingly incomprehensible math problem. We're not disappointed - you're just a different kind of weirdo than most. The sooner you slog through this, the sooner you can get to doing what you love," I may have been able to do better academically, possibly even getting a college degree in something that would make me a desirable immigrant to a civilized country in the near future when we had trashed ours.

But I guess I'll never know. I hope quiet underachievers who read too much, and score too high on tests while flunking all the homework get more help than I did.

When I was growing up and complained something sucked and was difficult (school, paperwork, etiquette rules, etc.) a lot of the time adults told me “noooo no it’s not difficult! It’s easy if you put your mind to it.” Or maybe a kinder “nooooo don’t say that, you can do it!”

And setting aside the fact that I had executive function issues I wasn’t aware of at the time, I think what I usually needed to hear was “yeah. yeah it does suck and it is difficult. but it’s important that you do it anyway.”

Like yeah in the moment it WAS difficult to learn my multiplication tables or to get college scholarships or to apply for jobs. It DID suck a lot but I did learn to do math, and go to college, and get a job. And I just wish somebody had told me that’s how it would feel to look back — not like “that was actually easy and fun once I tried it,” but to say “wow, that sucked. but I did it and I’m glad I did.”

[hyacinth-in-a-haze]

Ooo may i ask how what is sexy time with yandere warlord is like??

I need him carnally😣

I am not used to writing explicit drawn out smut so hopefully you enjoy this anon

First time- Yandere warlord x fem reader

Contains- gratuitous smut, dubious consent at best, size difference, virginity loss,

You wish your night things were less sheer. That those ladies who do nothing but follow you around the whole day did anything but give each other knowing looks and giggles when they would dress you in silk that did nothing to hide your body. Most of all you wish that your new husband wouldn't look at you like he was holding himself back from devouring you in one bite.

“Sweet thing,” he mutters, accent almost impossibly thick as he stares unabashedly at you “Are you trying to seduce me further?” there is an earnestness to him that could have made you flustered rather than embarrassed if you were in any other circumstances. If you weren't dressed in robes that barely covered your skin, and if you weren't fearful to make eye contact, worrying what you might see if you were to look at him.

“I didn't have any real say in how they dress me,” you mumble, staring down at your feet. It is not as though you could even understand them, let alone make your wants known over what they want for you. You feel your cheeks flush even more, three stupid excuse for a fabric is hardly better than if you just stood naked in front of him instead.

He approaches you gently, leaning his head down to your ear.

“Your nightclothes are not the thing that is affecting me so, not that I do not appreciate the sight before me,” he moves his lips closer, letting them graze your ear before he kisses the soft spot behind the lobe where your neck and jaw connect, causing your heart to find its way up your throat. It is dizzying to be in his presence, one of the most feared warlords in all the lands, a man who practically controls half of the steppe. Before this, you only thought the stories of him being tall and broad as an oak tree, with the strength of a hundred men were but stories painting him as some demon. But now, a month into your marriage you know those stories to be truth and nothing but the truth.

“Rather,” he mutters lowly, tilting your head up with one finger so that you can look him in the eyes properly as his wife. “I am enamoured by that expression you wear so beautifully. You make a fool of me with your beauty.” He leans so close you can feel his breath upon your face, “may I kiss my sweet little bride?”

You don't know why you nod. Perhaps it was how you felt as though the room would spin if he continued to hover above your head like a dragonfly above water. Or, was it that you didn't know even if he would accept anything other than your yes. Truthfully you've kept your head down and nodded along to everything since you have become his, too fearful to do anything else. Even if he were to offer you an escape out, you couldn't be so sure you'd take it. Then there was that part of you, that shameful wicked part, which felt your heart in your throat and made you aware suddenly of your own body, if it was anyone else it could be alright, but how could you let yourself want him.

He kisses you tenderly, deeply leaning into you, nipping at your bottom lip before he pulls back. You can barely breathe and he only just smiles seeing the flush in your soft cheeks. Lifting your arm he plants another kiss on your inner wrist, teeth grazing the veins. He doesn't ask any more of you or waits for you to speak before he just pulls you along with him. Peppering kisses across exposed skin before he gently pushes you onto the bed.

“Are you a maid?” He asks so softly you need him to repeat it before the words register “I only need to know how gentle I must be with you, especially if you are unused to this.” When you nod he smiles so sweetly. Taking the time to gently graze his hands down to your waist, fleeting touches that linger for no more than a minute. It feels like fire almost, you had no expectations for him to be gentle, all too aware of his size, but it seems he is aware too.

He trails his kisses down from your neck, bringing his lips down onto the silk. A shiver runs through you when you realise you can feel his lips almost exactly through the fabric. He pauses when he comes to your breasts, gently loosening the fabric to free them to his gaze. Cupping one with his hand so large it practically covers it, flicking your nipple carefully with his thumb before rubbing it in circular motions, until the peak is tall and firm, the other finds its way lower. He doesn't wait for any response, does not ask for what he is about to take from you.

All you know of what happens in a marital bed comes from whispers you shared with other gossipy girls, mostly ending in hysterical laughter as you'd try to visualise exactly how the deed is done. There is no laughter here, it all seems so much more fearful than you would have thought. When his fingers gently come to your mound you buck up, unable to move with him pinning you in place. He only just hushes you, repeating that he is being gentle, as his fingers go between your folds. You give out a half strangled, almost painful whine as he slides one finger inside you, just the one is too much and it almost seems to burn the skin from the stretch.

“Sweet thing are you trying to break my finger? You must relax this is not so scary, yes it may be a bit painful for a moment but I assure you it will be so nice once you relax.” Despite his words you still whimper as he curls his finger within you, pressing his lips to your collarbone and his thumb to your clit. The stretch slowly becomes less painful and for a moment you feel a reprieve until another finger quickly joins in. It is too much, too tight and too full, but when the tears on your eyes threaten to flow overboard and you beg him to please pull one finger out he only tuts again. “If you don't let me do this it's only going to hurt worse,” his admonishment only serves to make you attempt to quiet your whimpers, the pressure is all too much but somehow things begin to slip. There's a building in your lower stomach, with every movement he makes it grows, every obscene sound he pulls from your body, every whimper that falls from your lips.

You don't realise you want him to continue until he stops, pulling his fingers from you, he senses your confusion and in turn kisses you deeply while he repositions himself. Suddenly you're all too aware of the size difference between the both of you, before you can even say anything he sheaths himself within you to the hilt in one move. His mouth swallows your cry until he pulls back from you, almost regretful for what he's done. But not enough to stop as your blood stains the sheets, “ I love you my sweet thing, I'll love you and adore you until I'm dead and even after that. His words just fly above you, the only thing you can feel is the overwhelmed fullness as he moves atop you.

And there it is again, the twist of pressure which he keeps pushing. You babble out a plea for this to end, but when has he ever shown mercy? You writhe underneath him, digging your nails into his back but that only causes him to groan and go even faster. Your release hits you like a rock to the head, which a cry so loud he doesn't bother to muffle it- let the entire world know how he's reduced you beneath him to a puddle of pleasure. His own release is mot far behind, with a few more grunts and growly moans he floods inside of you with his seed.

When he finally pulls out from you, your eyes stay upwards. Refusing to look down and face the thing that practically tore you, once his trousers are fixed, you look down to see the pink combination of your blood and his release dripping down from yourself. He gently pulls your head to his heart,”I was such a brute to you, my sweet, but the next time it will be easier for you.” Despite his intentions, those words do very little to convince you of future relief.

[sturniphone]

ˇ⋆ ╱ ‧ ˚ ꪆ RAPPER!CHRIS . . . BITCHY!READER

✶ bitchy!reader still make chris roll her joints and she's got him wrapped around his finger 𓂅

𓏲 🥛 . ݁˚ The lights are low—just the soft flicker of a candle and the muted blur of a TV show neither of you are watching. Your thighs, smooth and bare, stretch over velvet cushions. A crumpled designer throw pools across your lap, the tag still tucked inside. Your lip gloss is fresh, mouth sharp and pouty, nails like little weapons against your phone screen. You scroll, half-bored, fully pretty. Your lashes flutter slowly. You don’t look up.

Chris is beneath you, his head nestled against your lap, the weight of him so easy, like gravity only pulls him to you. He wears a black tee that clings to his chest, the fabric straining slightly over his built arms. His brown hair is tousled, artfully messy. His chain glints under the candlelight. A blunt rests half-rolled between his fingers, jaw flexing as he works, lashes casting shadows across his cheekbones. His blue eyes flick up through the haze.

❝Don’t you want to learn how to do this yourself?❞ he asks, voice lazy, almost fond. You blink down, smug and sweet. ❝No. I like when you do it.❞ He huffs a laugh, low and warm. Like you said something precious, not bratty. The lighter clicks. He finishes rolling, lights it, and hands it to you without speaking.

You don’t thank him. You just lean down and press a kiss to his forehead. a softness that startles even you, and then you inhale deep. Smoke curls from your lips, floating high into the darkened air. ❝You’re impossible,❞ he murmurs, lips tugging up at the corners. His palm rests against your thigh, thumb tracing the line of your skin, like it's a map he’s already memorised.

You exhale slowly. ❝Good thing I’m cute.❞ He smirks, thumb tugging lightly at the hem of your shorts. ❝Nah. Good thing I’m obsessed.❞ You kiss him then, glossy and warm, and your lip gloss sticks to his mouth. He doesn’t wipe it off. ❝You know I’d do anything you asked, right?❞ he whispers, voice rough, reverent.

You tilt your head, faux-thoughtful. ❝Did you even buy me that bag I sent you at 3am?❞ He groans, dramatic. ❝Fuck. Yeah. That too.❞ You smile. Slow. Perfect. The kind of smile girls post for inspo and boys save for later. He’s the hottest rapper alive—sold-out shows, Billboard #1s, chaos in his name—and still, here he is. In your lap. Rolling your weed. Remembering your wishlist.

And he loves it. He’d kill for you. Fold for you. He would ruin himself if it meant seeing you smile just like that.

ꪮꫀ lola talks . . . do we like them? (gulp)

── ʚ recently streamed rapper!chris .ᐟ . . . @chrepsi @ph3ebssturniolo @sturnsxbbyeilish @j21l91 @pip4444chris @mattslutt @sophand4n4 @mattscoquette @mi-co-uk @tezzzzzzzz @emely9274 @oopsiedaisydeer @theowensturniolo @httpssturns @matthewsroses @bugs-tags @mattswrinkleton @victorious8 @h3arts4nat @madz146 @ifwdominicfike @rriverscuomo @ivysturnss @brianaluvschris @mattsgold @sturniolotoast @ariieeesworld @angelicameron @blahbel668 @sturniszn @chriss-slutt @mattsdiva @little-lolaaa @mattsmoth @clairo4life @everythingaboutbags @matts-wife @chrispleasure @ajskorner @mattspillowprincess @freshlovefever @twylas114 @matties-angel @mayax2o07 @sturnsflirt @tonymayor2022 @ifellforanotherloser @delilahsturniolo

.ᐟ © sturniphone

[just4jinx]

# cw ! vamp!jinx. dom!jinx. fem!reader. blood obvs. public. fingering. 90% intro. 2k wc.

you were even prettier up close.

jinx had followed you from the moment you left the event—something formal, judging by the shine of your shoes and the way you still smelled faintly of perfume and candle smoke. it clung to you like an afterthought, delicate and sweet. she didn’t mean to get so close, not at first, but you had taken the alleyway alone. it was late, so the quicker path home called to you, but anyone would have called you silly for considering it.

jinx danced just past the edge of your sight—close enough to make your heart race, but not enough to give her face away. she wanted to let you wonder a little longer. let you panic. let you feel it. she could smell the fear beneath your skin, warm and pulsing. but there was something else, too. curiosity.

she moved like smoke, stepping forward so her breath could reach your ear. “cold out tonight, isn’t it?” you whipped around—eyes wide, searching, desperate to find the source, but jinx was already gone. “hello?” you called out, scanning the shadows. only the wind answered, winding through the trees like it was laughing at you. “i know someone’s there.”

jinx stepped into the light. no warning—just a quiet, fluid motion as she crossed the boundary between shadow and glow, letting the lamplight spill over her like a spotlight crafted just for her.

she was... unreal.

blue hair fell over her sharp, pale features. her skin was too smooth, porcelain, eyes shining unnaturally bright as if they burned from within. and her lips—blood red, parted just enough to reveal fangs that caught the light like glass. she didn’t speak, didn’t smile. she just stood there, watching.

you swallowed hard, barely finding your voice. "what... are you?" that made jinx laugh, quiet, but far from warm. “mm. you don’t know?” she took a single step forward, the light shifting over her face again before she vanished, swallowed back into the darkness. the alley felt empty as fast as you could blink, skin prickling like the air had turned colder. “i’ve heard stories. about something… someone that lives in the dark. people don’t say the name out loud.”

“smart of them.” jinx's voice purred near your ear, sudden, impossibly close. you spun again, but to no surprise you were met with nothing. “you’ve definitely heard of me... the one they whisper about before sundown. the one they say isn't real.” the pause was uncomfortable, time seeming to stretch out for what felt like an eternity.

"do i look real to you?"

you hesitated for several moments before nodding, lips parted though no words managed to spill from them. her hunger was evident in the way her pupils thinned and her head tilted like she was imagining what you might taste like. but then she sighed. the sharp glint in her eye softened—not kindness, but restraint. disinterest, even. “another night.” she murmured. then nothing.

for days she was all you could think about, consuming you entirely. you hadn’t said a word to anyone. at first, you told yourself it was fear that kept you quiet. but that wasn’t quite true. some small part of you didn’t want to share it—didn't want people to laugh, to call you delusional. you know what you saw.

you’ve definitely heard of me… the words haunted you, so by the fourth night, you gave in.

you slipped out of the house after sundown, steps unsteady as you made your way to the same alley. the town was quiet this late—cobblestones slick with rain, windows shuttered, lamps burning low. you paused beneath the same rusted streetlamp where the vampire—if that’s what she was—had made herself known.

nothing.

no sound. no shimmer of blue. no sudden breath against your neck. it was disappointing, really. but still, you waited, craving another glimpse.

then the wind shifted, subtle at first, just enough to lift your hair from your shoulders.

"you came back." the voice was unmistakable. your breath hitched, heart starting that same desperate rhythm in your chest. “couldn’t stop thinking about me, huh?” it came from the other side now. closer. teasing. “that’s cute.” jinx's hair finally caught the light as her figure peeled itself from the shadows behind a crooked tree. she stepped forward just enough for the lamplight to kiss the edge of her smirk, tension visible in your frame. her eyes gleamed with amusement, and something undoubtably darker. her lips parted slightly, fangs out for your viewing, and her gaze dropped to your throat.

"i'm usually the one doing the chasing." her tone was low and unwavering. you couldn't help but look away, as if ashamed of how much you wanted this, how much you had thought of her since your first meeting.

it was clear jinx was tempted, considering just a little taste. "why don’t you just do it?” you asked, voice shaking. jinx’s head tilted slowly, then a pause, silence filled by dead leaves scraping against the concrete.

"you want me to?" her fingers trailed down to your wrist, light as a whisper, lingering over your pulse. then, without warning, she stepped in closer. one hand slid to your jaw, tilting your face up—not rough, but firm, steady. you didn’t move. couldn’t. then your mouths met. it wasn’t soft, it was claiming. jinx kissed you like she was feeding anyway, like this was something just as vital. her lips were cold, but the blood still lingering on them burned. the taste of her last meal clung to her tongue, and you shuddered as it passed between you both, copper-sweet and wrong. but you didn’t pull away. instead you leaned into it, stunned by the way your body responded, matching jinx’s hunger with a different kind of craving.

jinx made a low sound in the back of her throat and pulled you closer by the waist. “so easy.” she breathed against your lips. you opened your mouth to speak, but jinx just kissed you again, harder this time. her hand slid down your neck, fingertips pressing just enough to remind you how close you were to something dangerous. this kiss was starving, urgent, lips sliding, breath shared in the space between sharp gasps. the blood soaked into your mouth now, blurring your sense of where you ended and jinx began. your noses bumped, and her grip tightened on your hips, pulling you forward, crushing your bodies together.

then, the sting. a sudden, deliberate bite to your bottom lip. not deep, but enough for you to gasp against her, to taste your own blood. the sharp pinch was quick, aching, and unbelievably intimate. jinx pulled back just slightly, lips swollen. a smear of red ran down her chin—hers or yours, it didn’t matter anymore. she dragged her tongue across her own bottom lip, slow and unashamed.

she pressed your back against the cold brick of the alley wall, rough but not enough to seriously hurt you. “look at you.” jinx whispered, brushing her nose against your cheek. her lips found your jaw with ease, then your throat—each kiss slower than the last, a trail of heat down to the place where your pulse throbbed beneath fragile skin. you exhaled something between a sigh and a whimper, head tilted to give the vampire more room.

your dress was long, an inconvenience that caused jinx to hiss against you. if she had it her way she would have ripped it off you already. with one swift motion, her hand reached under, the material gathering at her forearm like it knew better than to get in the way. slender fingers brushed against your plush thighs, nails dragging up before coming to a stop at your aching core. her fangs sank into your neck—again, not deep, not violent—just enough for skin to break and blood to rise. jinx groaned softly, lips sealing around the wound, drinking in a slow, desperate pull while her hand effortlessly slid into your underwear. she barely gave you time to process any of it, knees buckling the moment the pads of her fingers caught your clit.

she began rubbing light circles, strings of soft moans dripping from your lips like honey. your hands held tight at jinx's clothing like you needed to ground yourself, to keep from falling. she hesitantly pulled her head back, pupils blown wide, blood tracing a path down your neck. and then, the soft press of her tongue. she licked it up like nothing had ever tasted sweeter, your mind blurring, thoughts smudging at the edges like paint left out in the rain. the mix of pain and pleasure curled through your spine. it was dizzying.

she licked up every drop, savoring the taste, feeling your pulse stutter beneath her mouth. her hand moved down, a quiet whine escaping your lips as jinx inserted the first finger past your entrance. you immediately clenched around her, and she let out a satisfied hum, wasting no time pumping into you. she wanted to ruin you—wanted to feel you surrender, to watch your eyes roll back into your skull. soon it was two fingers, and jinx was insanely drunk off the way you sounded. your sweet whimpers, the moans you repeatedly choked out whenever she hit justtt the right spot. it was all for her, and she was obsessed. her pace was unforgiving, splitting you open and forcing you to take the whole length without fail. it's a good thing you suck her in perfectly.

"give it to me, don't fight it." she murmured, less cocky now but more focused, determined to bring you to ecstasy. "sweet girl, come on. i got you." your hole squelched obscenely, juices running down your thighs with nowhere else to go. she could tell you were already getting close to your limit—pussy throbbing and spasming around her slender digits, eyes half-lidded. jinx's lips took to your neck once more, except this time it was to press several kisses to your warm skin, leading them to your collarbone she immediately had the idea of marking. but not now. she already knew it would be a pain for you to hide the bite mark on its own.

your moans were guttural, your grip on jinx's clothes loosening so you could take ahold of her arm instead. you were right on the edge, just moments from tipping over. she didn’t give you room to think—just kept going, faster, harder, like something inside her had snapped loose. "it's too much, please-" you're practically crying, intense pleasure washing over you in waves.

“that’s it,” she breathed, lips curving upwards, “let it happen. let me have it. that's it.” your gazes locked and your whole body tightened, spine drawn like a bowstring—then released, trembling, undone. jinx watched every second of it, drank it in like it was blood. you were still gasping when it was over, shallow breaths dragged from trembling lips as if your lungs had forgotten how to work.

jinx slipped her hand away, and the fabric of your dress fluttered back down into place like the moment had never happened. she held you steady, one hand splayed at the small of your back, the other gripping your hip. you pressed your forehead against her collarbone, dizzy. and you tried to speak, but the words just dissolved in your throat.

jinx brushed her fingers up and down your spine, slow and deliberate, allowing you to lean on her as much as you physically needed. "still with me?" it wasn’t mocking. not fully. just checking in her own way. you blinked, slow and heavy, like waking from a dream. you didn’t even answer. you looked wrecked—ruined and marked, but your eyes still found hers like you needed her to say something more, anything about the situation. and for a moment, jinx almost did. but instead, she leaned in and pressed one last kiss to your throat, right beside the bite. “go home, now,” she murmured, surprisingly soft, "before i change my mind.”

you remained still as the vampire stepped back, swallowed by the darkness. the cold hit you instantly, stumbling out of the alley, makeup smudged and heart pounding. no matter how far you got from the alleyway, you could still feel jinx.

[the-barn-rat]

I'd like to present a sideways way of looking at this, because I think these tweets are on to something, but I disagree with their ultimate conclusion. Like, obviously you're going to care the most about stuff when it's stuff that's tied directly into your self-concept. I don't know if that's avoidable? Everyone's got something they're really invested in that is Part Of Who They Are, don't they? Or if not everyone, then enough people to make this kind of tweet get retwote a bunch.

So, I'm good at gentling feral horses, and I'm good at writing, and those skills are part of my self-concept. Every time I successfully gentle a feral horse, that part of my self-concept is reinforced. Every time I evoke an intended emotional or intellectual response with my prose, that part of my self-concept is reinforced. It's immensely positively motivating to strive for additional successes and further reinforcement. I don't think it's possible for me, personally, to do it any other way, and I don't even think it would be emotionally healthy for me to try.

But what of failure? If a particular horse proves especially challenging to gentle, or if my written meaning is misunderstood, it can be tempting to turn that into "I have failed at this task and therefore I have failed to live up to my self-concept; I am a fraud; I shouldn't even try; etc." That seems to be sort of where these tweets are coming from: those thoughts about those outcomes don't help you meet your goals, so you should disentangle your identity from those outcomes.

More productive, in my experience, is a reframing of failure that uses self-concept to build resilience to it: this horse is challenging me, but I am good at gentling horses, so I can change my approach and figure it out. This piece of writing did not evoke the response I hoped it would, but I am good at writing, so I can rework it until it does. Or: I am failing at this challenging task, but I am good at this, and I want to be better at it, and this may be an opportunity to learn. This way, your self-concept/self-worth/identity don't hinge on the outcome; they provide resilience against failure and disappointment. They give you the tools to turn a negative outcome into an opportunity.

(The pitfall inherent to this reframing is a temptation to use self-concept to deny failure, e.g. "This horse is challenging to gentle, but I am good at gentling horses, so the horse must be impossible to gentle/it must be the horse's fault." Extremely unhelpful, but so common in specialized spaces. Watch out for this in yourself and others. You must acknowledge your own limits if you want to identify opportunities to grow.)

Anyway. I won't pretend this stuff ^ is always easy or self-perpetuating. But I also don't know that it would be particularly healthy to try to completely detach your sense of self-worth from your goals. And, frankly, I think that proving who you are can be enormously motivating if you have the tools to select and strive for the things you really care about folding into your sense of self.

[dismalflo]

remus x hyper reader pleaseee where she’s golden retriever energy and he’s more black cat

thanks for requesting!

Remus lupin x reader who gives him a flower ✩ 772 words

cw: fluff, grumpy x sunshine

Sirius likes to think of himself as a pretty sharp guy. He can tell when Remus just wants some quiet company, he’s learned the pattern behind James' chaotic mood swings, and – after a lot of trial and error – he’s even figured out what Regulus' barely noticeable shifts in expression mean. So yeah, Sirius considers himself fairly perceptive.

That is, until you show up out of nowhere, your head suddenly popping into the narrow space between him and Remus with your arm twisted behind your back, making him nearly jump out of his skin.

“Christ,” he mutters, a hand flying to his chest. “should get you a bell or something.”

“Hello, Sirius,” you grin at him, beaming like you haven’t just startled him half to death. “I’ll start stomping around more if that’ll help.”

You’re impossible to stay annoyed with – not that Sirius tries particularly hard. There’s something disarming about the way you grin, unapologetic and radiant. It’s endearing, honestly, how you make the effort to chat with him at all. He knows you’re not really here for him. Not when your eyes keep flicking sideways toward Remus like you’re trying not to look too eager.

Sirius suppresses a sigh, already feeling secondhand embarrassment bloom in his chest on your behalf. Moony’s in one of his usual silent moods today, the kind that comes with a permanent scowl and a drawn brow. You haven’t been seeing him long enough to recognise that yet, to know that sometimes he doesn’t want affection or words or even eye contact. 

Sirius is halfway through crafting an excuse to get him far away from whatever is about to happen, when you finally turn your full attention to Remus.

"Hi, honey," you say, soft as anything. Your fingers move before Remus can flinch or lean away, gently brushing a stray bit of hair off his forehead and away from his eyes.

Sirius watches with morbid fascination. He’s seen Remus Lupin do a number of things over the years. He’s watched him break up fights, endure full moon recoveries, and drink James’ horrible attempts at fancy coffees without so much as a grimace. But now? With your fingers ghosting across his hair and your smile all warm and unbothered?

Remus is blushing.

And not just a faint, dignified flush either – no, this is a full-bloom, down-to-his-neck pink, the kind that looks particularly unfair on someone who normally prides himself on his unshakable composure. Remus clears his throat, eyes darting to Sirius for one mortified second before you continue like you haven’t just completely dismantled him.

“Oh!” you say, suddenly remembering yourself. “I brought you something.”

Remus blinks. "You… what?"

You smile wider and reveal the hand you’d hidden behind your back, a small, slightly crushed wildflower. Yellow, with ragged petals and a bent stem, clearly plucked mid-walk or from somewhere inconvenient. Sirius squints. It looks like the kind of flower a child would press between book pages and then forget about for a decade.

“I saw it and it made me think of you,” you say, tone offhanded, like the connection between Remus and a half-wilted flower is the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s pretty.”

Remus stares at you like you've grown a second head.

Then, without saying a word, he takes it. He’s careful, absurdly so,  and before you can flit away again – because you’re already turning back toward the door, likely off to check on whatever it is sunshine people check on – Remus reaches out.

His arm slips around your shoulders, pulling you gently into his side.

It’s awkward at first, mostly because you weren’t expecting it, but then you melt against him like you were built for it. Your head tips to rest against his collarbone, just for a second, before you hum contentedly and pat his chest.

Sirius can’t believe his eyes.

“Be back in a bit,” you say, already halfway out the door again. “Look after it, please!”

The door closes.

There’s a moment of silence.

Remus exhales, the faintest sound of breath escaping as he starts fiddling with the flower. He doesn’t look at Sirius, he can't stand the thought of it. The pink is still climbing up his ears.

Sirius, for his part, stares at him like he's trying to solve a riddle.

“…You’re cuddling now?”

Remus grunts, still very pink. “Shut up.”

Sirius exhales dramatically and leans back against the couch. “Mate...”

Remus only half-hides the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He tucks the flower into the page of his book, precisely, carefully.

Sirius watches this development unfold and mutters, not without fondness, “You poor bastard.”

[keferon]

Those are lovely pictures from the game. But considering the things you can see in those pictures. Is Prowl's facility damaged/in disrepair like the facility is in Portal is? If so... would Prowl allow any of the engineers or Autobot science team to help fix it? Or is Prowl adamant about only him being allowed to fix himself/the facility? Either out of his own OCD or the potentially buried trauma of what happened with the LAST science/engineering team he worked with?

Oh man I think IT IS damaged. After all big buildings require quite a lot oh humans to maintain them. And Prowl’s building is MASSIVE. There’s a lot of rooms that are impossible to fix or to clean automatically so YES it does collect dust and damage and water and other annoying or unsafe stuff. The test rooms are still white and almost shiny because they are made out of those easily movable plates but the moment you go deeper - everything is slowly deteriorating.

I think Prowl wouldn’t instantly trust Jazz’s friends but Jazz would convince him:> Still. He would watch the other Autobots very nervously always expecting someone to perform another betrayal like it was with Bombshell perhaps

Also now I’m just imagining Autobots slowly fixing and cleaning everything Howl’s moving castle style haha