#someone needs to write this fic and it might be me

[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 caf�� 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

[needgood-username]

I debated to make this sound less crass, but this topic actually pisses me off so..

Yall need to get ur head out of your asses, do you create something for the sole purpose of creating? Because thats what fanfiction is in its essence. its a piece of goddamn work that someone in the world graciously blessed us and you have the audacity to criticize it?

We should be fucking honored because authors and artists share their work FOR FREE.

They dont have to post it.

They could have kept it in a doc and wrote to their hearts content for THEMSELVES BECAUSE FANFICS ARE USUALLY CREATED FOR THEIR FUCKING SELF

Critiques should only be written WHEN THE AUTHOR REQUESTS IT but that doesn’t mean you can SHIT ON THEIR WORK.

Some might argue that these people shouldnt post on the internet if they werent ready for criticism. Thats so full of shit because thats like saying you shouldnt cut your hair if you werent ready for it to potentially turn out bad. Does that mean we cant cut our hair anymore?

In the end, your criticism is mostly based on personal preference. if someone went up to you irl and said that your eyes are the only thing wrong with your face and here are the directions to the nearest plastic surgeon. Wouldnt you feel insecure about your eyes now? Maybe some wont care, but that doesnt mean EVERYONE wont care. What if they took it to heart, and now they wear glasses because apparently that was the thing that messes up their face.

What if another person commented on their nose.

Then their mouth.

In the end they wont go outside ever again or forever be stuck in their self doubt

Some might not even wait for more “critiques” they might shut down the moment someone comments.

Maybe I dont like too much dialogue in my fics, but that was the author’s favorite thing to write. Wouldnt that make them doubt themselves whenever they write dialogues because of my comment?

Why should we as readers choose to put an author down for sharing their work for us for free. Reminder that fics are not made for revenue, the choice to post is in the authors hands.

(Ai works does not apply to this)

Get your shit together and stop acting spoiled.

don’t know who needs to hear this but AO3 comments section is not Letterboxd. giving unsolicited criticism to a fanfic writer does not make you a “fanfic critic” because there’s no. such. thing.

giving unsolicited criticism to a fanfic writer just makes you a spoiled, rude, entitled asshole at best, makes the author stop posting their works altogether at worst.

a reminder that it’s always okay to just stop reading and quietly click away from a fic if at any point you feel like you don’t like it for whatever reasons. unless specifically asked, there’s no need to tell the author, whose work you read for free, how you dislike something they wrote for themself for fun.

[azzishands]

Fan of a fan - Chapter thirteen

Paige x Azzi

Warnings: Mature content

A/N: Last chapter, let's go! I'm sorry if this is under expectations, but it was hard to write it because it kinda felt like it had already ended in a way? But I hope it gives some kind of feeling of closure at least. (I've already begun writing the next fic, which is also why I've had less inspiration to write this chapter. Can't wait to share it with y'all later!)

Masterlist

---

The first test of their reconciliation came immediately. 

Of course the video of Paige Bueckers staring right at Azzi Fudd as the curtains closed after an epic performance of Iris went viral. It looked like a scene straight out of a movie. 

Paige, looking like the bittersweet song in human form, just standing on stage, looking at Azzi, while everyone else was looking at Paige, while the whole venue of A-list celebrities were erupting in praise.

People were making reaction videos on youtube and tiktok and wrote long think-pieces on twitter. Fanfictions were starting to overflow on every platform about that very moment. 

‘If this isn’t a confirmation that the two did in fact date years ago, I don’t know what is’, one hit-tweet said. 

Another said: ‘I KNEW THE MAKEOUT PICTURES OF THEM YEARS AGO WASN’T MADE UP IN MY MIND’

The internet loved it. They loved them. 

Except Paige’s fans.

‘Thought we were done with this’, one tweet said with an eye-roll emoji. 

‘Please, Paige was just nervous and needed to look at a familiar face in the crowd, it’s not that deep,’

‘Nah, that should be me’, and so on. 

Azzi had seen those comments, and had rolled her eyes at them by instinct. But it wasn’t comparable to the amount of supportive comments about the two. Her dm:s were filled with people reaching out, being nosy, being supportive, wanting to interview her about it. 

All of her friends had sent several videos and pictures of the captured moment. 

Storm Reid: ‘Girl, if y’all don’t get together already, I don’t know what’

Auli’i Cravalho: ‘This is some movietype shit’ 

Ayo Edebiri: ‘PLEASE’

Never before had she been showered with people actually rooting for them so loudly like this. And it was the same for Paige. 

“Our A&R just wrote me a long message about how she hopes we find our way back to each other,” Paige chuckled and showed Azzi, who was lounging on her couch. 

“That’s cute,” Azzi cooed. “I just got this DM from someone telling me how much seeing that video helped them come out, and that’s just crazy. In a good way.”

The two women were in Azzi’s apartment. The plan was to go on a date in the evening, but Paige had insisted on hanging out with Azzi before the date, because she couldn’t wait to get to see her. 

It had been a couple days after the Academy Awards, and the attention the video was bringing them made Azzi a bit hesitant about actually going out at a public place for their first date. Mostly because she didn’t want to rush Paige into being comfortable with it. 

“You know, we don’t have to go out tonight. We can stay in, if that would be… better,” Azzi said carefully as Paige plumped down on the couch next to her. 

“I know,” Paige simply shrugged. “But I really want to go out with you.”

“You sure?” Azzi didn’t mean to sound like she was constantly testing Paige’s feelings, but she just wanted to make sure that Paige didn’t push herself too hard for Azzi’s sake. 

“Yeah. I might be a bit nervous, but that’s just because I’m going on a date with you,” Paige looked at her all serious. 

Azzi just snorted and playfully shoved Paige’s shoulder. 

Few hours later, Azzi was in her bedroom getting dressed when she heard knocking on her door. 

“Paige, can you get that?” she shouted, not wearing any pants. 

No answer. 

“Paige?” she called out again, but to no avail. 

She frowned at the silence and hurriedly got dressed to go open the door. 

“Wha-” Azzi stammered when she opened the door and found Paige on the other side, with a whole different outfit on than just a couple minutes earlier. It was a light blue button up shirt with some loose suit pants and her hair in a slick low bun. 

“Did you just change clothes?” Azzi laughed at the randomness of it all. 

“I’m gonna ignore that question,” Paige just said. “You look lovely tonight.”

“Oh, thank you,” Azzi smiled. “You too.” 

“I got a cab waiting for us outside,” Paige said and offered her arm to Azzi. 

“Aw, so we’re not spending the whole night driving around in circles this time?” Azzi joked about Paige’s inability to listen to directions. 

“Maybe next date,” Paige teased. 

They exited the building and got into the cab. 

The restaurant Paige had chosen was fancy. And expensive. They didn’t have to wait for a table, Paige had already booked one. 

And Paige held Azzi’s hands through the whole walk from the cab to the restaurant, from the door to their table. 

At the table, Azzi felt people’s stares, heard their murmuring and saw how they pointed their fingers towards them. She glanced at the blonde woman a bit nervously, and Paige glanced back, smiling. 

“You want to order some wine?” Paige asked.

Azzi cleared her throat. “Uh, sure.”

The waiter arrived at their table and the two women ordered their wine and food. Just when the waiter came back with a bottle of wine, two young men came up to their table. 

“Excuse me, I don’t want to bother you guys, but could we maybe get a picture with you?” one of the guys asked and looked at the two women. 

“Of course,” Paige automatically answered. 

The men hunched down and took a selfie with the two celebrities, gave their thanks and then left. 

This caught the attention of the people around them in the restaurant, and suddenly, they could sense a shift in the air much more than before. 

Paige knew that the photos would be posted. She knew that people were gonna be able to tell that she and Azzi were on a date. It made her heart rate go up, but she didn’t know if it was out of terror or excitement yet, and that was a good sign. 

“Hi, sorry,” a young woman approached them shortly after. “I just wanted to say that I’m such a big fan of you, Paige. You’re literally my biggest role model, and I adore the way you make music. Could I just ask you a quick question about your writing process?”

The woman was basically eating Paige up with her eyes, and Azzi gulped, and took a sip of the wine to distract herself from accidentally visibly reacting to it. She knew better than to feel possessive over Paige in front of her fans. 

“I’m sorry, I’m on a date right now, so maybe another time,” Paige offered a friendly smile, and added when she saw the disappointed look on the fan’s face: “But we can take a quick picture if you’d like?”

“Thank you,” the fan nodded gratefully, and without any further instructions, just handed her phone to Azzi. 

“Oh,” Azzi expressed, surprised by the audacity, but didn’t complain. She opened the camera and started to snap pictures of Paige and the young woman smiling at her. 

“Make sure to get my good side, babe,” Paige smirked at Azzi, and Azzi almost dropped the phone in her lap. 

“I promise, baby”, Azzi quickly recovered and smiled brightly at the nickname. She snapped one or two more pictures and then gave back the phone to the fan, who murmured out a quick thank you before fleeing the scene. 

Azzi couldn’t help but blush at the fact that Paige had clearly said that to make a point. A possessive one. Right in front of a fan, before they even were officially together yet. She marveled at Paige’s courage for the simple gesture. 

“You… You’re really something,” Azzi shook her head in disbelief over the interaction. 

“I know, that’s why they want pictures,” Paige said playfully. 

The food was eventually brought in to the table, and Azzi and Paige had just taken another photo with some guests. Fortunately, the people around them seemed to have recognized that the two were trying to have a normal date night, and left them pretty much alone during the rest of their meal. 

The wine glasses were constantly filled, and both of the women felt the intoxication slightly grow to the perfect level of tipsy. Not that they needed it, because the conversation flowed naturally and every silence in between felt comfortable. 

It was a successful first date, to say the least. And when it was time to say goodnight, Paige followed Azzi up to her front door. 

But Azzi just opened the door and walked in. Paige stayed behind and didn’t step a foot inside. 

“You coming in?” Azzi asked. Assumed, rather. 

“I don’t know if I should,” Paige nervously chuckled. 

Azzi looked at her. “You scared?” she teased.

“A little,” Paige snorted, but Azzi could hear the sincerity in her tone. 

“What are you scared of?” Azzi gently asked. Paige still stood outside, not even inching a little closer to come inside. 

“Um… I just don’t want to rush things,” Paige said nervously. 

“For your sake or my sake?” Azzi questioned. 

“Our sake,” Paige answered. 

Azzi smiled with a nod. “Alright,” she said, and stepped outside her door and closed it behind her, joining Paige outside in the hall.

“Thank you for a lovely night,” the actress said sincerely and took a step forward towards the singer.

“Thank you for going with me,” Paige smiled, and took a small step back, visibly nervous. 

Azzi bit her lip and snaked her index fingers in Paige’s belt loops on her pants and pulled her closer, their bodies suddenly being flushed together. 

“You’re allowed to touch me, you know,” Azzi warmly flashed a seemingly innocent smile, but the tone sounded anything but innocent.

Paige hesitantly placed her hands on Azzi’s sides, trying to ground herself. She was already feeling a bit dizzy from the wine, and Azzi’s sudden proximity didn’t help. 

“I just don’t know if I can stop if I do,” Paige exhaled, seemingly breathless. 

“Let’s find out,” Azzi said, before leaning in slowly, ghosting her lips on Paige’s. She stroked her nose against Paige’s, not giving her what she wanted just yet. 

Paige was breathing heavily now, just waiting for Azzi to take the next step. 

At last, she felt the younger one lean in, and Paige closed her eyes. But Azzi just lightly, barely, pressed her lips on Paige’s, and then pulled back again.

“Good night, Paige,” Azzi smirked as Paige’s eyes fluttered open, and went back inside her apartment. Paige heard Azzi lock the door from the inside. 

“You’re a fucking menace!” Paige said loudly outside the door, feeling all flustered by the sudden abruption, and heard Azzi laugh as a response from the inside. 

“Not my fault, Bueckers,” Azzi yelled back.

Paige just exhaled and gave a short laugh, trying to stop her cheeks from burning. 

“Until next time, Fudd.”

---

May 2027 

Paige and Azzi had been going out on several dates, met hundreds of fans together, hung out with their mutual friends and Azzi had even flown to Minnesota and visited Paige and her dad again. 

But during this whole period of time, they had never done anything more than kissed. Paige always stayed in a hotel in LA, and Azzi did the same in Minnesota. 

How they managed to keep their hands to themselves was miraculous. Azzi didn’t want to rush Paige, and Paige didn’t want to rush Azzi. 

But one afternoon in Azzi’s apartment, she had had enough.

Paige was working out in Azzi’s living room on a yoga mat and was wearing nothing but a sports bra and boxers. Azzi had been out shopping groceries when she stepped inside her apartment and saw the other woman all sweaty and half naked. 

“Oh wow,” she unashamedly marveled at the sight. 

“Sorry, I’m almost done,” Paige said and continued doing some sit ups. 

Azzi hurriedly put the groceries away, to then return back to the living room to just admire the view. 

“You just gonna watch me workout?” Paige teased in the middle of the motion.

“Yup,” Azzi nodded and sat down on the couch. 

She looked at Paige’s stomach, her abs flexing with every movement, her sweat trickling down her neck further down into her bra. Azzi swallowed. She just wanted to lick it up. 

“Okay, now I’m done,” Paige panted as she laid with her back on the yoga mat, trying to catch her breath. 

Azzi rose from the couch and approached the woman on the floor. She knelt down in front of Paige and gently spread her legs and inched forward. Paige just looked at her, not daring to move. The actress leaned forward and crawled over the blonde until she was right above. 

The last weeks had been torture for Azzi. Being on dates with Paige, kissing her, hugging her, touching her, but not having sex with her, it had driven her mad. Because suddenly everything the blonde one was doing was turning her on to the point where she felt like she had to lock her in the bathroom to finish herself. 

But not this time. This time, it was just too much. Paige on her living room floor, sweating, panting, abs flexing… 

Azzi let one of her hands land on Paige’s damp stomach, caressing her abs, moving up over her bra in a swift motion. 

“Hm,” Paige hummed and her hips slightly jerked up. “You’re really doing this?”

“You want me to stop?” Azzi asked, and removed her hand. 

“No no no,” Paige quickly replied, immediately grabbing her hand to be touched again. 

Azzi smirked and leaned her head down to kiss Paige. But right before their lips touched, Azzi whispered:

“I can’t wait to fuck you.”

Paige squirmed underneath her, and responded by grabbing the back of Azzi’s head, pulling her in for the kiss. 

There was nothing gentle in the way that Azzi’s lips crashed into Paige’s. It was as if all pent up tension was about to explode right then and there, just eagerly chasing an outlet. Tongues were already roaming each other's mouths, hands were going up and down their bodies and Paige had no time to catch her breath from her workout before she entered a new one. 

Azzi broke the heated kiss and started to place messy wet kisses along Paige’s jaw down to her throat. She sucked the skin right on her pulse point roughly, and Paige gasped from the sensation. 

“Missed this so much,” Azzi murmured against her skin and continued further down. She didn’t even bother to take Paige’s bra off, she just pushed it up, revealing her pink nipples. Before Paige could tell Azzi how much she missed her back, Azzi leaned down and took one of her nipples into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it.

“God,” Paige arched her back into Azzi. It felt like it was the first time, and her body was reacting to every little touch Azzi was giving. It was as if it was oversensitive by anticipation.

Azzi sucked, bit, licked roughly down to the boxers, leaving several marks on Paige’s stomach. She looked at her work, smiled, and deemed it a masterpiece. Paige looked at her with hazy eyes, but Azzi saw the uncertainty in them.

“You okay?” she asked, rubbing her hands up and down Paige’s thighs. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m just… It’s just been a while,” she nervously chuckled. 

“Hey, it’s just me,” Azzi smiled and gave her upper thigh a peck. 

“That’s the problem,” Paige said after a sharp inhale from having Azzi’s face so close to her center. 

“You want me to stop or keep going?” Azzi sincerely asked. 

“God, I want you to keep going,” Paige exhaled and nodded. “I need you to.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Azzi playfully teased as she saw the dark patch between Paige’s legs. 

Azzi gently hooked her fingers beneath the hem of Paige’s boxers and pulled them off. She was on her knees between the singer's legs, taking in the view in front of her. 

“You’re so so pretty,” she marveled and let her hands stroke Paige’s hips down to her thighs, teasingly letting her thumbs rub the upper inner parts. Paige squirmed by every touch. It seemed like her body was reacting before her mind could even register what was being touched. 

At last, Azzi let her thumb stroke over the wetness between Paige’s legs, and moved it up to her clit and gently started to rub slow circles. Paige groaned and her hips instantly jerked up at the contact. Azzi bit her lip and smiled at the face Paige was making. She already looked like a mess. Her hair was sprawled behind her head, and her bottom lip red from biting it so hard. That in combination with all the hickeys on her stomach, she looked gorgeous. 

“Mhm,” Azzi hummed contentedly. “I’m gonna take it slow with you and enjoy my view.”

“Since when do you take things slow?” Paige groaned, being driven mad by the slow tempo of Azzi’s thumb on her clit. 

“Just want to have you for as long as I can,” Azzi leaned down and hovered above the blonde, letting her lips ghost over her ear. 

Paige whimpered in response, grinding her hips against Azzi’s thumb to try and get more friction and pressure. But Azzi just put her other palm on her stomach and pushed her down, refusing her to contribute to her own pleasure. 

She leaned back and sat on her knees again, and said: “Stay still for me.”

Paige whined in frustration but tried to oblige. 

Azzi removed her thumb from Paige’s clit and slid her index and middle finger into her own mouth. Sucking them and licking them as if it was something else, while staring at Paige, who looked at her with hooded eyes. She gave her a show.

Paige felt her lower stomach tighten, and she gasped when Azzi moved her fingers to her core and slid them inside her. 

“Shit, Azzi,” she moaned and fluttered her eyes closed. 

Azzi meant what she said, and moved her fingers in and out of the singer in a tantalizingly slow tempo, while curling them up just the way she knew Paige liked. Her hand was palming Paige’s lower stomach, gently pressing down. 

“Please,” Paige whined at the pleasure, but wanted more. 

Azzi returned her thumb on Paige’s clit and kept on circling it slowly, softly, while still steadily pumping in and out of her. 

“You want me to fuck you harder, Paige?” Azzi asked.

“Yes,” Paige exhaled. 

“Mmm, you feel so good on my fingers,” Azzi praised her. “Missed fucking you like this baby.”

Paige groaned loudly at the words, and gasped when Azzi finally pushed into her harder. But she didn’t increase the speed just yet, still fucking her slowly. 

Even so, Paige felt her high come closer and closer. Azzi could tell by the way Paige’s breathing started to become more and more ragged. 

“You close?” Azzi asked with that honey smooth voice. 

“Yeah,” Paige whimpered out. 

“Don’t come yet,” Azzi said with a demanding tone. “Let me fuck you a little longer.”

“But…” Paige whined. “I’m not gonna be able to-”

“-Yes you are,” Azzi protested. 

And Paige moaned at Azzi’s interjection and felt her body start to tense up from trying to hold on. Her body was begging for her to relax and just come undone, but she did everything she could to postpone it, obeying Azzi’s request. Instead, moans and broken cries of Azzi’s name were slipping out of her mouth, repeated like a prayer. 

“You’re doing so good for me, baby,” Azzi praised her and let her other hand stroke Paige’s cheek. 

And Paige whimpered in response to the praise. 

But there was really nothing Paige could do the moment Azzi leaned down and let her tongue massage her clit. Her hand flew to the back of Azzi’s head, holding on for dear life, trying to get some sense of control in her very weak position of control. 

“Fuck baby, I’m gonna-” she didn’t even finish the sentence before her body compulsively started to twitch, the wave of her orgasm crashing down on her. She let out a guttural moan followed by a loud exclamation of the actress’ name. 

Azzi just kept on licking her, feeling Paige’s walls pulsate and clench around her fingers. When she felt Paige coming down from her high, she gently removed her fingers and started to clean her up with her tongue.

“You taste even better than I remember,” Azzi moaned against Paige’s center, licking up the cum from her pussy, swallowing like she was starving. 

Paige whimpered and pushed Azzi’s head away from between her legs out of reflex by being too sensitive. 

Azzi laid down next to Paige and brushed Paige’s sweaty hair away from her forehead. She leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on Paige’s lips that tasted like the singer. Paige was unable to move and just laid there, still coming down from her high. 

“How exactly did you expect me to not come when you move your tongue on me like that?” Paige asked once she had caught her breath and turned her head to look at Azzi with heart-eyes. 

Azzi cracked a smile and snorted. 

“This your way of saying I’m good?” Azzi licked her lips. 

“This is my way of saying you’re unreasonable,” Paige countered. 

“Nah, you’re just too needy,” Azzi teased and placed her hand on Paige’s thigh again, grabbing the flesh beneath her fingers harshly. Paige slightly flinched by the contact and bit her lip from trying not to moan. 

“And desperate,” Azzi continued and let her fingers once again touch Paige’s center, feeling her wetness.

“And wet,” she whispered and let her fingers softly graze the wetness, before fully pushing her fingers in again. Paige moaned loudly and automatically spread her legs further, giving Azzi easier access.

“And so, so, fucked,” Azzi let out a low laugh at how fast Paige was ready to go again. 

Paige was gonna have the workout of a lifetime. 

Azzi was gonna make sure of that. 

---

March 2031

It had been a while, but the sound of multiple camera shutters going off still felt familiar. Azzi hadn’t been on a red carpet for approximately two years, but it felt like she had never left. 

Paige on the other hand hadn’t been on a red carpet for over three years. The Huskies had reached a certain level of fame where she got privileged enough to pick and choose her public appearances without it negatively affecting her career, so she usually let the other Huskies go on these kinds of carpets by themselves, while she was at home with Azzi. 

She was still making music, she was still playing concerts and touring, but she was not putting herself out there in any way that did not serve her purposes. So if you wanted to see the Paige Bueckers? Then you had to go to one of The Huskies concerts. 

That’s why it felt so strange to be back to this kind of scene. But it was an important night for Azzi, and so it was an important night for Paige. 

Azzi belonged on the red carpet. Everyone could see that. Her elegant black gown hugging her figure with Paige’s black suit complimented her outfit like jewelry around her neck. 

They moved down the carpet together, always by each other's side, always holding hands, only being the most present with each other. 

“AZZI! PAIGE! OVER HERE!” The photographers were yelling loudly, but they only looked at one another, reassuringly with big smiles on their faces as if they couldn’t hear. 

Later down the carpet, they got tracked down by an interviewer to do a short video interview, which they agreed to. The woman with the microphone expressed her gratitude for taking time to let her ask a few questions before getting into it.

“Azzi Fudd and Paige Bueckers, welcome to the 103rd Academy Awards. Azzi, you’re nominated for best actress tonight for the movie In Another Life, how does it feel?” A very basic first question, but Azzi welcomed it with open arms as she liked the easy ones.

“It feels amazing, no matter win or lose, I’m extremely grateful just to be here and be in the presence of my peers,” Azzi answered. 

“Amazing. Paige, how’s your feeling about Azzi’s nomination?”

Paige cleared her throat and leaned forward to the microphone. “Oh, everyone should know by now that I have been Azzi’s number one fan since before I even knew her, and I’m extremely proud of her every single day, seeing how much work she puts in and how she always manages to exceed expectations as a wonderful actress and person. And objectively, I think she should win tonight,” she flashed one of those infamous smirks only Paige Bueckers could give. 

“Love it,” the woman chuckled. “And you two actually have some history with the Academy Awards. Paige, the last time you attended, you did an iconic performance from your soundtrack and The Goo Goo Dolls Iris. This led to a viral clip of the two of you, sharing an intense sort of staring contest. The internet has been speculating ever since. Do you wanna share with us what really went down?”

Azzi looked at Paige with raised eyebrows and a smirk, like she was daring her to answer. 

“Well,” Paige started, and immediately felt her cheeks start to heat. “Long story short, it was the moment I got the love of my life back.”

The eyes on the woman went wide, and Paige nervously chuckled at the reaction. 

“Wow, that had got to be one of the most romantic things to ever come out of the Awards,” she stated and looked in awe at the two. “And now you are here together. Can we expect another viral moment from you guys tonight?”

“No no,” Azzi laughed. “I think we’ve had enough viral moments.”

“Alright, well good luck tonight Azzi, and enjoy the night both of you!” The interviewer wrapped up the conversation. 

They walked together into the theatre where the awards were being held and sat down, waiting for it to begin. 

Azzi looked over at Paige and gave her a kiss on the cheek. 

“I appreciate you being here with me tonight, even though I know you would rather stay at home with the dogs,” she said teasingly. 

“Of course, you’re my number one dog,” Paige shrugged and Azzi slapped her shoulder with a snort. 

“You’re so annoying,” Azzi stated with a big smile. 

“You know I wouldn’t miss this night for the world,” Paige offered sincerely. 

Azzi was unexpectedly calm during the ceremony. Compared to the last time she was there, she somehow felt very relaxed. Until her category was up. 

“Oh my God, here we go,” she exhaled and Paige grabbed her hand comfortingly. 

“And the Oscar for best actress goes to…”

“...Azzi Fudd.”

Azzi let out a breath of surprise and looked at Paige like she couldn’t believe it. She looked like a question mark. The whole theatre erupted into applause and standing ovation. Whistles and praise were thrown at her from every distance.  

“Azzi, you won!” Paige stood up and helped Azzi up in the process. “You won, baby! Go get it, go get it!”

But the actress just threw herself at Paige who caught her, wrapped her arms around her and hugged her as tight as she could. 

“You did it, Azzi,” Paige said, and never let go of her. 

Azzi leaned back and smiled at Paige, before leaning in, kissing her softly. 

“Go now,” Paige laughed as they separated from each other and urged her to go up the stage that was waiting for her. 

Azzi looked all flustered as she walked up to the stage, her eyes still wide from sheer disbelief. The last year’s Oscar winner handed her the statuette, and Azzi felt the weight of it in her hands and in her heart. The celebratory music and the applause simmered down and suddenly, Azzi was expected to say something into the microphone right in front of her. 

“Wow, I, I have no words,” she started. “There’s not enough words that could ever make justice this incredible feeling that I’m feeling right now. But I just wanna say that all the nominees for this category were exceptional and all deserving of this award.”

She looked out on the crowd and acknowledged every single one of her fellow nominees with her eyes.

“I just wanna give thanks to everyone who ever believed in me, invested in me and supported me. It really takes a village, and this award is for everyone that has helped me be the actress I am today. I wanna thank Caroline, Jesse, Helen, Marcus, Gregory, Vivienne and Lola for everything they have poured into me.”

She took a deep breath and looked at Paige. 

“And lastly, I wanna thank the Academy Awards for this award - but also for letting my amazing wife perform four years ago which was the moment I knew that it was for life. This is for my number one fan.”

She smiled at Paige in the crowd and raised the statuette up in the air, goofily pointing at it with her other hand. 

Paige threw her a kiss from the audience. 

Yeah, they were definitely gonna have another viral moment. 

THE END.

---

[batsandbirdbrains]

imagining a scenario where dick grayson gets hit by fear gas (civilian or vigilante), one of the titans or bruce tell the other hero’s/people “let me handle this.” The walk up to him slowly, shoulders hunched and knees bent. The same way you might walk up to wild animal. Dick is hunched over on himself, his knees in his face. He barley seems to be breathing, wouldn’t even seem alive if it weren’t for the tremor in his shoulders.

They walk up to him and right before they touch him everything changes, suddenly they’re found pinned up on the wall held up by a hand around their neck. Dick’s face is shrouded in a darkness that blends with his hair. For a moment the only thing heard is his heavy breathing, the tension skyrockets. For that one moment he looks more like a demon than man. Our sacrificial lamb starts to struggle, maybe saying some kind of “I kinda need to breathe here rob”, drawing Dick’s attention to them. He startles and his eyes widen, he steps back looking horrified. He is still save for his shaking hands, after Dick drops them on the floor maybe they rub their neck and stretch a bit, offering him the second to collect himself. Dick is over himself with apologies, the titan/bruce merely offers a calming smile or another light joke. The moment seems to have passed as said member takes him to go watch their favorite movie. Dick eyes still seem to flicker around the room and his nails are digging into his palm. The other members seem surprised to remember that nightwing is the god of rebirth, and that you must first die to be reborn. (This idea has been specially microwaving in my head as a Neal caffery as dick grayson AU with a crossover into criminal minds where Roy is on the CM team)

Okay but someone needs to write this as a full fic NOW I need it. I love Dick as Neal Caffrey fics they’re so fun god pls someone write this!!

[hyunjincanraptoo]

Hey can I request a fluff oneshot? Like the reader has a fight with her mom over a silly issue. Not a fight just reader ends up crying and her mom says to just hang herself on the fan and d!e. (sorry if its too Detailed thats what happened tome and my mom yesterday)

So reader runs away from her house to hyunjin's and then friendship blooms into Smtg else.

Pretty please cuz I feel emotionally tired somehow for the First time jn years I just want a comfort fic pleasd

Loving you is my safe place- H.HJ

Apparently I still know how to write, edit a post and post it on Tumblr haha it's too short tho, my bad

I am sorry your mother said such a horrible thing to you. I also don't have a good relationship with my mother so I understand how you feel. Sorry it took so long, I hope it still brings you some comfort 💜

Word count: 0.9k

No warnings

Alexa, play I don't understand but I luv you by SEVENTEEN

You weren't supposed to cry. You didn’t mean to grab your phone and keys, slam the door and go. But sometimes, when things feel too much— especially when it comes from the person who was supposed to love you no matter what— it’s okay to fall apart.

Her words echoed in your head as your knuckles felt sore from knocking too hard on Hyunjin’s door. And when it opened, he was there— wearing a simple grey tee, black sweatpants, with his long black locks falling on his face— looking like he came straight out of Heaven.

His expression shifted as soon as his eyes landed in your red, swollen eyes

“Hey… Is everything okay?”, he asked tenderly

You didn’t say anything, just looked at him, a little empty, like if you did— you wouldn’t be able to stop crying

He didn’t press you. Instead, he stepped to the side, “Come in”

✧

You ended up on his couch, curled under a soft blanket. Hyunjin made your favorite tea, but you didn’t want tea. Or anything else. He didn’t ask questions at first, just sat beside you close enough for you to feel comforted but not too close to feel overwhelmed.

“I didn’t know where else to go”, you whispered 

“You’re always welcome here”, he replied, “Any time. Don’t even have to ask firt”

You nodded. His words were so real, so honest, that your lip trembled.

 “We argued. It was stupid but she said something really…”, your voice cracked 

Hyunjin looked at you, and his expression shifted to something between fury and disappointment 

“I’m so sorry”, he said, “Whatever she said, if it hurt you, it is not okay”

You finally looked at him, “She told me to just… hang myself. Like it was a damn joke”, you paused, fighting against the tears, “I know she didn’t mean it, but still… it hurts so much”

Hyunjin set his mug down and turned fully toward you. His hand hesitated for a few seconds before resting gently on top of yours.

“That’s not something anyone should ever say to you. Or to anyone else, joke or not. Especially not someone who’s supposed to protect you”

The tears came again and you didn’t even try to hide them.

Hyunjin didn’t say anything else. He just pulled you into him, arms wrapping around you like it was his second nature . He held you so gently that it made you cry even harder.

“I’ve got you, okay? You’re not alone”, he promissed against your hair. 

✧

He carried you to his bed after you fell asleep on his shoulder. He was trying to close the door without making a sound when he heard the doorbell.

“Shit”, he whispered before tiptoeing to the the front door

It was Chan who stood there. He was holding a black cap and a charger, “You left this in the studio. Figured you might need it”

Hyunjin blinked in surprise, “Oh… thanks, hyung” 

He grabbed his stuff with one hand and pressed a finger to his lips with the other, “Yn’s sleeping in my bedroom”

Chan’s eyebrows furrowed with concern, “Is she okay?”

Hyunjin sighed, “She had… a problem at home. She just needed to be somewhere else. Somewhere safe”

Chan nodded in acknowledged, “But what’s the thing between the two of you?”

Hyunjin tilted his head sightly, “Thing?”

Chan’s lips curled into a smirk, “Come on. You bring a different fruit every day just to ‘casually’ ask her if she wants some. You carry her bag when she’s tired and you let her put pink clips in your hair even though you hate it”

Hyunjin opened his mouth, then closed it, completely speechless

“And now”, Chan added, “you’re letting her crash here like she’s your problem”

“We’re just friends”, Hyunjin mumbled, ears turning red.

“Sure. Just friends”

He gave Hyunjin a tap on the shoulder, “Goodnight, Jinnie. Make wise choices”, then he left. 

Hyunjin glanced back toward the bedroom and whispered into the silence, “I’m trying”

✧

You woke up without knowing how you end up in his bed. Hyunjin was curled up on the floor, using a blanket as a pillow.

You look down at him, “Hyunjin?”

“Yeah?”

“What are you doing down there?”, you asked, voice raspy with sleep.

“Didn’t want to make you uncomfortable” he said, rubbing his eyes, “Figured you’d feel safer if I were here when you wake up” 

“Come up here”, you said, already making room, “Please”

He hesitated, “Are you sure? I don’t want to make it weird”

“Hyun”, you gave him a soft smile, “You let me cry into your t shirt for an hour. There’s no ‘weird’ between us”

He laughed, relieved, then climbed into the bed beside you. You reached for him, arms wrapping around his waist, cheek pressed against his chest. He immediatly wrapped his arms around you in return— warm and steady.

You tilted your head a little, voice muffled against him, “Why do I feel like this is kind of romantic?”

You felt his heartbeat speeding up under your cheek before he answered.

“Maybe that’s because… I’ve been in love with you for a while now?”

You pulled back just enough to see his face. He looked like he regretted saying it out loud.

But then he added, “I just didn’t want to risk losing you saying it too soon. But tonight… when you came here, all I could think was, ‘please let me be the person she runs to when things are tough’ ”

You stared at him for a second, butterflies all over your stomach and chest, “Hey, Hyun”

“Hum?”

“You’re the person I’d run to again. Every time”

A small smile formed on his lips, and he leaned in, gently pressing a kiss to your forehead

“And I’d let you stay every time. Forever”

If you enjoyed it please consider liking and reblogging. Feedbacks, loves notes and requests are very much appreciated 😊

Taglist: @hyyunjinnn , @jehhskz , @mbioooo0000 , @nightmarenyxx , @rozsdascsaptelep, @thatonegirlonhere , @notmedina127, @sweetlifeofjoy , @jeonginsleftcheek , @yelhsaa, @my-neurodivergent-world , @hyunles , @lexlikesbts , @imagine-all-the-imagines , @ mysterysold , @teenagepeterpan , @hangonhyunjin , @yxna-bliss , @moonchild9350 , @vernorica123 , @lov3lycosmos

[raventarot]

Hey girlie ! I hope you're doing well <3

I wanted to ask if BTS knows about fanfics done on them, actually talking more about the weird ones like +18 and "taboos" and well yeah anything disgusting people write these shits about, imo all of them hate it and feel really uncomfy if they ever come across any, but also generally what do they think of people who write fanfics about them?

Tyy ily girlie <3

Let's see 🫶🏻💕💕

Do bts know about the weird fanfics done on them and what do they think about them?

Namjoon

knight of pentacles,9 of swords, 5 of cups, 4 of swords, page of swords.

He knows, I feel like he might have read some of them ????? I don't know why I'm getting this vibe, maybe he tried to check something about him and he ended up reading like a full smut, there's a sense of disappointment and disgust coming from him honestly, the 4 and 9 of swords both talks about stress and having to take a break, I feel like he got a little bit paranoid so he was like "let me just stop reading this"

Jin

2 of swords, queen of swords, 3 of wands, 2 of cups, 5 of swords

He might know something about it, but I don't see him going to check these fanfics himself, he's like... avoiding it? Maybe he wanted to read something but hesitated, the 2 of cups and 5 of swords makes me think of the relationship between him and the fans, I feel like he's conflicted mentally on why some fans feel the need to write stuff like that about him.

Suga

the devil, 4 of cups, the hermit, 5 of wands, high priestess

He always gives me interesting cards, especially the hermit, that card always comes out with him. So I see that he knows, and he doesn't like them, at all. Maybe he stumbled across some fanfic about himself and it left him traumatized? I don't know, it's a weird energy, maybe he read them out of boredom, but with the 5 of wands and the high priestess he might have gotten maybe way too defensive about himself, like wanted to speak his truth or leave a negative comment or something like that???

Jhope

the tower, the hanged man, judgement, death, 5 of pentacles.

Interesting energy. He also knows about them (at this point I believe they all know about it or like talked about it as a group). I feel a sense of disgusting also coming from him, it's like he saw something and said "nope, get this away from me. I don't wanna see it" he moved on and it's like he's not planning to talk about it ever again or like ever mentioning these fanfics.

Jimin

10 of swords, queen of cups, 3 of cups, the hermit, 7 of wands.

I felt this energy earlier while reading for Jhope, and it explain why I said they all talked about it, because I'm seeing them sitting down at a table and having fun and talking about these fanfics, someone laughs while others are just not having it, I feel like Jimin is the one who made fun of this situation like "can you believe they make up stories like that about us" while laughing at the same time. I feel a funny energy but somehow it's embarrassing, like you know when you laugh out of embarrassment, yeah that's the kind of energy.

Taehyung

won't give me a clear answer

Jungkook

6 of cups, page of swords, the lovers, 3 of swords, the devil.

He thinks that the people writing these fics are very young, and that they should use their talent for something else, he can't believe these people are his own fans, the lovers and the devil with that 3 of swords in the middle makes me think of his fans being way to obsessed with him to the point they have to write smuts about him, and it breaks his heart to see that.

[postmortemvp]

wip whenever ₍^. .^₎⟆

i got tagged by @chromecore and for once i do have a few things worth sharing.

ive lost track of who has or hasn't been tagged for it recently, so i'll leave it open to anyone who wants to do it too!! i love seeing what people are working on.

i'll start first with a personal modding project. i've been on the hunt for a place that would fit what i have in mind for Vanessa's apartment, since none of the player ones are quite what i'm looking for. i finally settled on the one Anna Hamill uses in Watson, the layout's cute and just the right size overall.

so last night i've started emptying it in cleaning it, and hopefully i'll be able to work on redecorating it today ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹

the progress so far. i'm gonna swap it for a nicer (bigger) bed too. and i might have to recolor some of the furniture myself, babygirl deserves more pink in her life.

i've also spent some time cleaning up the apartment on top of KAB Tools for the hivemind of the kowalski korner, because this place sure was nasty.

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢ next up, writing. that one makes me a little nervous i guess, particularly because i haven't shared my writing publicly in years, particularly not in english. and on top of that, im not a big fic writer, my bread and butter has always been (very) long form roleplay, which is a very different beast.

so be nice to me pwease. it's only a barely edited excerpt so far, meant to go with my last vanny/mike shippy saturday vp ૮ ˶´ ᵕˋ ˶ა

"Something's bothering you." No question there, merely an observation, and the way her shoulders ever so slightly stiffen is the only answer he really needs. In any other situation, being right would've brought him a sense of smug satisfaction, a smirk or teasing quip in tow. Tonight, however, he finds himself almost wishing he had been wrong, or simply blissfully ignorant. Mike Kowalski has been called many things throughout the years—asshole, bastard and other colorful expletives—but heartless? Absolutely fucking not (not that he remembers at least), and he sure ain't planning on making this a first. "Wanna talk about it?" he adds after a beat, absentmindedly running his still 'ganic fingers up and down her spine, following the familiar lines etched into her skin. He only has to close his eyes to clearly picture it, the way the ink so sharply frames the middle of her back, down to the curve of her ass, and—well, maybe now's not the time to be thinking about that. "Not really." She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, the back of her thighs still resting against the side of the counter-top. Oh, Vanessa has never been hard to read, quite the open book when it comes to her emotions. Even for someone whose sole reading material as of late has been Regina Jones' gig rundowns. Usually, he'd take that as the metaphorical door being closed for good, probably wouldn't even have considered opening it himself in the first place. Except it's not just any door—she's not just anyone. He knows her, he realizes, and it's not just about how nicely her tits fit against his palms or what kind of cute noises he can coax out of her when she's lying under him anymore. No, it's about the crease that always forms between her brows when she's thinking too hard about something and the way she bites the inside of her cheek when she has more to say but doesn't know if she should keep going.

i may not be able to finish it today like i had hoped, but hopefully soon. i'd like to include their mutual use of polish when speaking to each other (i have a soft spot for people using terms of endearment in other languages) but that will have to wait. both because i want it to feel natural, and i also want it to be accurate. Ი︵𐑼

[not-so-innocent-bi-sander]

Hell's Comin' With Me

Okay, so.. Yesterday I had a whole weird time thinking about this fandom and how much it meant to me for so long, all the friends I've made and the ways my life has literally been completely altered thanks to getting into this video series. I could write essays and essays on the way my entire life would be different if I hadn’t. (Thank you again to the several people who shared that they are also feeling some type of way about all that.) And I decided.. I don’t plan to ever be writing again like I was back in the day. But I’ve grown attached to these boys and my versions of them very much, even if a lot of the time I feel like I’ve detached them insanely far from the source material. But.. I have at least one long fic I want to finish just because I enjoy it and want to see it completed. And on top of that, making this relevant to right now, I used to write song fics because a song(s) pops a story into my head and I literally can not make it leave me. So.. Here’s something that genuinely has been on my mind for weeks, but I never thought I’d write it down. It’s probably going to be anticlimactic, and not like, something worthy of a “comeback” which.. It probably isn’t, anyway. But I really need to remember that I started writing fanfic at age like, 12, and I did it just for me. 

So without further ado.. Here’s my most recent earworm thing. Hell’s Comin’ With Me - Poor Man’s Poison (religious mentions) Why Should I Worry - Dan Hartman Sexy Ladies - Superfruit Take a moment to be shocked, this is about Roman. College AU.  Also i'm sorry about adding a taglist from literal years ago, I just still had it saved and pasted it in kinda on autopilot

Roman is in a high level college class, something to do with either public speaking or theater. The opening assignment is to find a way to introduce yourself to the class, but creatively. Give everyone a sense of who you are, where you came from, whatever you want to express. But you can’t go up there and just talk. No powerpoint presentations, no plain speeches. Find another way to do it. So what does our boy do? Sings, obviously. So, he goes up. My version of Roman in human AUs has, for whatever reason and for a very long time now, been from Louisiana. He walks up in front of the room, sits on a tall stool in front of a microphone on a stand, and has an actual literal banjo. He’s wearing a fairly generic white baseball cap, a red flannel buttoned all the way up, a standard pair of light wash jeans, and red sneakers. The banjo is on a strap holding it to him ~ like a guitar. He queues the music up and starts to sing and play along with it. He has a bit of an accent, this boy is Cajun from the bayou, and he isn’t hiding it.  

They all laughed as he turned around slow

They said, "You ain't welcome 'round here anymore

You just might as well go"

He wiped the blood from his face as he slowly came to his knees

He said, "I'll be back when you least expect it

And hell's coming with me"

Hell's coming with me

~skipping most verses for length reasons, but this song is great I recommend it~

I am the righteous hand of God

And I am the devil that you forgot

And I told you, one day, you will see

That I'll be back, I guarantee

And that hell's coming, hell's coming

Hell, hell's coming with me

So he has established a few things about himself, seeing as this is in the context of an introduction about who he is. Clearly he’s Southern, the whole song has a religious kind of reference/slant to it, so there’s certainly a story there that means something to him. It touches on seeing injustice and wanting to make changes. The song fades out, leaving the room in a bit of surprised silence, working on deciding what it says about someone that they chose this as a song they felt describes who they are. But then more music starts up. In the time it takes for the opening notes to play, he’s stood up, taken off the banjo and placed it on a stand off to the side. The stool gets moved away to the side as well, so he can stand in front of the microphone. The baseball cap gets spun backward and he also completely unbuttons the flannel, revealing a white undershirt. The vibe of him has completely changed. And then he starts to sing once again. One minute I'm in Central Park

Then, I'm down on Delancey Street

Said, from the Bow'ry to St Mark's

There's a syncopated beat. Right

I said, Whoo, whoo, whoo, whoo, whoo

I'm streetwise

I can improvise

I said, Whoo, whoo, whoo, whoo, whoo

I'm streetsmart

I've got New York City heart

Why should I worry?

Why should I care?

I may not have a dime

But I got street savoir faire

Why should I worry?

Why should I care?

It's just be-bopulation

And I got street savoir faire

The rhythm of the city

But once you get it down

Said, then you can own this town

You can wear the crown

The accent is gone, the sort’ve quiet contemplative energy he had is gone. The university he is attending is in a big city, potentially New York itself. And this is clearly someone who has found a home in this city, he’s adopted it and feels comfortable here. He feels attached to it to his core. Also, it’s a Disney song, and not even a really popular one. You don’t just pick a Disney song, especially a bit of a deep cut, by accident. So, this boy clearly contains multitudes. The song fades out once again, we’ve learned a fair bit about him. What seems to be where he came from and who he is now. But then the music starts up again. If we’ve covered what seems to be his past and present, what else is he trying to be sure everyone knows about him? He loses the baseball cap, doing a signature fingers through his hair to fluff it up just so, it falling perfectly. The flannel also comes off, tossed aside on the stool with the hat. That white undershirt? Tight in the chest, sleeveless. (That boy skips no days in the gym, especially arm day, and he is making sure you are fully aware.) Quick little french tuck in the front, and we suddenly have An Outfit. That quick, that simply. The mic comes off the stand, the stand placed over with the other things that are no longer necessary to prove his point. 

  Music is going again, he’s showing off those runs he loves to do, much more club vibe.

Spend three hours on your hair 

But he don't notice, he don't care

But goddamn, you're looking good 

He don't appreciate you like a real man should

All my independent ladies

All my independent fellas

I'm just here to make your ex-man jealous

Dance the night away with me

I can keep you warm, be the candy on your arm

So let's take a shot or two

Dance the night away with you

He is performing this like it’s his concert, and he definitely flexes when he sings “candy on your arm.” 

Single ladies

Got no ring on your hand

Baby, I'll be your stand in man for the night

Sexy ladies

No I ain't on your team

But you gonna be my queen for the night

Just tonight

That whole bit is a little confusing, but also, who cares? Swoon. And then we get to this.

Girl I'll be sleeping in your bed

Watching old re-runs of Friends

No I won't ever make a move on you, no

But I heard your brother's pretty cute

He has a definite backstory, he has gone through some difficult things. He’s gone somewhere new to make himself comfortable and he’s accomplished that. He’s certainly a Disney fan. But if there is one thing we’re gonna finish this on, the final message of this whole performance.

He’s gay and he’s hot shit, don’t you forget that for a moment.  --

@authordreaming13 @tinysidestrashcaptain @nekoabi @sanders-sides-thuri @notalwaysthevillian @justanotherpurplebutterfly @emphoenixcat @jughead-is-canonically-aroace @thepusheenqueen @logicalpasta @coffeestudylive @bangthekobrakid @mirror2thespirit @the-anti-virgil @darkle-elkrad @fangirl00193 @totally-not-using-a-fake-name @msu82 @thegnatnat @alana-of-the-cartwrights @riderofblackdragons @louisthewarlock @storytellerofuntoldlegends @damienswifeolicitydallysgirl @hamster-corn @nightmarejasmine @grey-lysander @nammies @what-in-gaeas-realm @that-one-transguy @karmels-stuff @inanoceanofpeople @lowkeyvirgilobsessed @pumpkinminette @corkeecoderyt @hedgiehoggles @muliphandomer @ao-koshka @midnightsdarkangel @lovebug5151 @asymmetricalgarbage8888 @ymmm-someone @prismartist @lostchoirchild @nebulastarss @angels-and-dreams @abby5577 @princessbelix @gattonero17 @handstotheskye @ollyollyoxinfree @baby-duck-boy @rabbitsartcorner  @fandomsofrandom @cas-is-a-hunter @sandersclause @itsfrenchfornothankyou @thefivecalls @deceits-left-glove @aliceingarbageisland @wildhorsewolf @anxious-l0ser @autumnpleaves @flamingfawkes @distressedandeasilyimpressed @the17thmeatball @tranquil-space-ninja @depressionwithacapitald @gayasaturtle @nyafangirlingnya @gay-dissapointment2 

[sequinsmile-x]

Take Me Back to the Start - Part 3

She thinks it’s a bad joke, a terrible one, but a joke nonetheless, but it’s only after she laughs and shakes her head that she realises her doctor isn’t laughing with her. 

Emily, Aaron and two pregnancies twenty years apart.

A sequel to Allegiance.

Part 3/4 -x- Part 1, Part 2

-x-

Hi besties,

I know what you might be thinking - 'wasn't this a 3 parter?' and yes, yes it was. But in a move that will surprise no one, I got carried away and it will now be 4 parts.

Thank you for the love on this fic <3 it means the world to me!

As always, let me know what you think!

-x-

Warnings: pregnancy

Words: 2.5k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

October 1995

“Why is naming someone so hard?” She groans and throws her head back against the headboard, dropping the baby book she’d been holding into her lap, “It’s too much pressure.” 

Aaron smiles and wraps his arms around her, tugging her against his side to kiss the side of her head. “We’ll get there, sweetheart,” he assures her, kissing her head again as he places his hand on her belly, smiling when he feels their daughter kick against his hand, “We still have time.” 

She grumbles as she pulls away to look at him, “That’s easy for you to say. I’m already in my 3rd trimester, and time is just slipping by, and she needs a name-”

“Okay,” he says, cutting her off with a kiss before she can spiral any further, smiling when he kisses her again for good measure, “Give me the book, I’ll look through it for a while.” 

She nods and hands it to him before placing both of her hands on her bump, “I know you think I’m being insane.”

“Never have, never will,” he says, winking at her as he opens the book on the page she’d last been on, the corners dog-eared and already starting to wear from how often she’d flipped through the book.

She rolls her eyes at him, but carries on, “It’s just it’s a big deal, you know? We aren’t just naming a baby but a whole person. It’s the name we’ll write on forms for schools and that she’ll use for college one day. If she decides to go.” 

“I know,” he says, looking up at her from the book, “It’s important.” He looks down at the page in front of him, “Ida?”

“That would be perfect if we were having an 80-year-old,” she says, scrunching her nose up, “I like the idea of her name being short, though.”

He hums in agreement, “Same, since she’ll have two surnames.”

She furrows her brow, her attention finally torn from her stomach as she turns to look at him, “Why two?” 

“Oh,” he says, swallowing thickly, something close to disappointment flashing across his face, “I just thought…”

She rolls her eyes at him again, lovingly this time, as she cups his cheek and drags him in for a kiss. “Her last name is going to be Hotchner. That’s it.” 

He tilts his head at her, “Not Prentiss? Or Prentiss Hotchner” 

She shakes her head and runs her fingers through his hair, “Just Hotchner,” she says, kissing him quickly, “They don’t deserve her to have their name. Besides,” she adds, smiling softly at him, “One day, Hotchner will be my name too,” she laughs when his eyes go wide in excitement and she kisses him again, “No, you cannot propose yet.” 

He sighs and shakes his head, “Fine,” he kisses her one more time, “But one day soon...” 

She chuckles, “You can propose to me.” 

“I’ll find the perfect moment,” he promises, and she beams at him before she rests her head on his shoulder.

“I know you will,” she replies, “Now, carry on reading out names. Maybe something will stick.” 

He nods and kisses the top of her head as he flips through another couple of pages, “Imogen?” 

She shakes her head against him, “No, it doesn’t feel right.” 

He flips through another few pages, mentally checking off names he knows she won’t like, “How about Ivy?” 

She stiffens against him and pulls back, her brow furrowed as she smiles, “Ivy,” she says, testing it out, “Ivy Hotchner,” her smile gets wider and she presses her lips together, “It’s pretty.”

“Just like her Mama,” he says as he winks at her, smiling when she shakes her head at him. “So, is that her name?” He asks, giving her the final say as he rests his hand over hers on her bump, linking their fingers together as they feel their daughter move. 

Emily nods, choking on a sob as she kisses him, “That’s her name.” 

___

Aaron offers to make dinner, but Emily declines, happy to have the distraction from her mother’s visit, for something to do other than stand there and listen to Elizabeth make comments about her life choices. 

It was the first time they’d seen each other since Emily told her she was pregnant again. It was only as she did, a conversation which took place over the phone since Elizabeth was abroad, that she thought about the fact that it was the first time she’d ever done it. That even though this was her fourth baby, she’d never had that conversation with her mother before. It was another reminder of the relationship they’d never had, the one that at one point Emily thought was broken beyond repair.

She’d been oddly grateful that Elizabeth had been on assignment for so long, that now, at 6 months into her pregnancy, it was the first time she was seeing her mother. It gave her time to get used to it all, to get used to the idea of sharing this part of her life with her mom for the first time. 

“Are you sure you aren’t going to find out what you’re having?” Elizabeth asks, and Emily briefly pauses chopping the vegetables in front of her, biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself from reacting emotionally. 

“I’m sure, Mom,” she says, flashing her a quick smile, “We want it to be a surprise.” 

Elizabeth chuckles from her spot sitting at the kitchen counter, “And being pregnant again at 45 isn’t enough of a surprise?” 

Emily clenches her teeth and clears her throat, “Clearly not,” she quips, “We talked to the kids, they wanted it to be a surprise too, so we’re waiting.” 

“Well, as much as I was not expecting you to make me a grandmother again,” Elizabeth says, her eyes flicking to Emily’s bump, “It is nice to know that I’ll know this baby from the start, unlike the others. I never got to know Ivy, Rosie or Oliver when they were little.” 

“Ollie was three when you met him,” Emily says, no small amount of defiance seeping into her voice. She wasn’t entirely sure who she was more irritated with - her mother for goading her in the first place, or herself for falling into it like she always did. 

“You know what I mean, Emily,” Elizabeth replies, sighing as she looks at the lined-up pictures of each of Emily’s pregnancies - four pictures that until recently had been three, “I missed so much.” 

Emily hums, her jaw tight as she smiles at her mother in the way she’d taught her how to in order to remain polite, “We both know why that is, don’t we?” 

In the eight years that had passed since her mother had come back into her life, Emily could count on one hand the number of times they’d spoken about the incident that had led to their estrangement. Robert Collins, his attempt to hit on Emily, and the subsequent scandal over a decade later that finally made Elizabeth see his behaviour, were all still stuck between them. The damage carved into the foundations of a relationship that had never been what either of them had wanted, leaving it unsteady beneath their feet whenever any kind of disagreement surfaced. 

More than once, Emily had considered walking away from her relationship with her mother again. Even after all this time, it left her feeling wrung out, stretched to her very limit until she felt ready to snap, but the kids loved Elizabeth. It had taken Emily a long time to feel comfortable introducing her to them, and she knew Aaron had been hesitant, too. Almost a year after Elizabeth had popped back up in their lives, they finally let her meet them. After some initial awkwardness, it was as if she’d always been there.

For all of her faults as a mother, Emily couldn’t deny that she was a good grandmother. 

Before Elizabeth can even react, Emily sees Ivy walk into the kitchen, a tightness to her jaw only her grandmother seemed to bring out in her, and she can’t help but wonder how much her eldest had heard. Elizabeth turns around when she notices Emily’s attention has shifted, and she smiles.

“Hi Ivy, when did you get here?” 

“Just a few minutes ago,” she replies, “Couldn’t turn down the offer of a home-cooked meal,” she says, and Emily raises her eyebrow at her over Elizabeth’s head. 

“And how is college going?” Elizabeth asks, either unaware of her granddaughter’s disinterest in a conversation with her or carrying on anyway. 

“It’s fine,” she replies, her patience for Elizabeth somehow thinner than Aaron’s. Emily was never sure if it was because Ivy was older than the others when Elizabeth came into their lives, because she was on the precipice of teenage rebellion anyway, or because she had more memories of their life before her than Rosie and Oliver did. Whatever it was, she rarely wanted to speak about it, even to Emily, and would rarely be anything more than polite to her grandmother, “Ollie wants to show you his new game.” 

Elizabeth’s smile gets wider, and she stands up, “Well, looks like I’ve been summoned.” 

Ivy lingers in the doorway, her smile only slipping when Elizabeth is gone, and she blows out a breath as she steps into the kitchen, “Let me help, Mom.” 

Emily smiles at her, “I’m okay-”

“You’re six months pregnant,” she says, sliding in next to her and taking the knife from her before she encourages her to sit down. “Relax. Let me sort dinner.” She winks at her, “You’re lucky Dad sent me in here to rescue you.” 

Emily chuckles as she sits down, running her hand back and forth over her bump, “Did he now?” 

She hums, “I was barely in the door before he asked.”

“Well, he knows I have a limit with her before I start to lose my cool,” Emily replies, and she watches as Ivy presses her lips together and scrunches her nose up, her shoulders briefly tight before she forces herself to relax. “Are you okay, honey?” 

Ivy sighs and shrugs her shoulders, “I don’t know,” she replies, looking up from her task of preparing dinner, “I just don’t know why you put up with it.” 

She furrows her brow, “Your grandmother?” 

Ivy nods and blows out a slow breath, “Yeah. She’s awful to you, and she makes you and Dad both really tense. It just seems…” she drifts off, desperate to pick the right words, “Unnecessary.” 

“Ivy-”

“And I know Rosie and Ollie love her, but they see what she’s like too, especially Rosie”, she says, cutting over Emily as she continues to chop vegetables, her irritation clear as she speeds up, “And if she knew…” 

Emily furrows her brow as Ivy drifts off, her grip on the knife briefly tighter as she stops herself from carrying on. “If she knew, what?” 

Ivy sighs and places the knife down, her lips pressed together as she looks up at Emily, her hands flat against the kitchen counter, “About Robert Collins.” 

Whatever she had been expecting Ivy to say, it hadn’t been that. She sucks in a breath before she can stop herself, and it catches in her chest as she realises her daughter already knew about something she’d been trying to protect her from for years.

“How…how do you know about that?” 

Ivy shrugs, “You wouldn’t tell me, I did some research and found an article about him that had a quote from Grandma in it,” she chokes on a hurmourless laugh, “It didn’t take long to figure it out…” she looks down at her hands, picking at her cuticles, “Did he…” 

“He hit on me at an event she was hosting,” she says, “I was pregnant with you and feeling like crap so I was standing in the hallway, he came over and put his hands on my hips and tried to flirt with me,” she smiles wryly, “Your dad still wishes I’d let him do more than give him one of his hard stares. 

“Mom.” Ivy says, frowning at Emily’s attempt to brush it off, “That’s…did she know?” She asks, and the silence she gets in response tells her all she needs to know, “Of course she did.” 

Emily sighs and stands up, one hand on her bump to try and calm down her smallest baby, who was kicking like crazy, the spike in Emily’s blood pressure enough to make them move more than usual, and one hand reaching out for her eldest, “I told her. She didn’t believe me.” 

Ivy shakes her head and scoffs, “Why didn’t you ever tell me about any of this?” 

“To avoid this,” she replies, squeezing Ivy’s elbow to get her attention, “My relationship with her has always been one thing, and for a long long time I wanted her to have nothing to do with any of you, but we’ve worked it out as much as we can, and she’s always been good to the three of you.” 

Ivy chokes on a sound Emily can’t name, “So thats enough for you? You’ll let her be…her just because she comes to our recitals and buys us gifts to make up for everything she fucked up with you?” 

“Language,” Emily says automatically, smiling when Ivy rolls her eyes, “And yes, sweetie,” she adds, wiping away a tear from Ivy’s cheek that she knows is caused by frustration more than anything else, “I’d do anything to make sure you all have as much love and support in your life as possible.” 

She shakes her head at her and leans in to hug her, holding her as closely as she can with the baby between them, “I’m so lucky to have you as a mom.” 

It makes tears that Emily knows she can’t blame on her hormones flood her eyes, her vision going blurry before she closes them and turns her head to kiss Ivy’s temple, “I’m lucky to have you.” 

They stand like that for a moment, wrapped around each other as they both comfort and draw comfort from the other, until the sound of someone clearing their throat makes them break apart. 

“Can anyone join in on this hug?” Aaron says, his eyes curious as he looks back and forth between the two of them. He opens his mouth to ask a follow-up question, concern pressed into the lines on his face when he sees the tears in both of their eyes, but Emily shakes her head, a silent promise she’d tell him later. 

“No,” Ivy sniffs, narrowing her eyes playfully at Aaron as she hugs Emily even tighter, “But you could make dinner instead of making your pregnant wife do it.” 

He scoffs just as playfully and rests his hands on his hips, “Hey, I offered.” 

[lovealwayssay]

I would pay an ungodly amount of money for a Supernatural finale where Dean rescues Cas from the Empty and tells him he loves him too, Eileen comes back to be with Sam, and Jack chooses to live with the four of them in the bunker as a happy family.

[goosecastle41]

Idk just the imagery of Kremy using Gideon for warmth

Like yeah okay we’ve all thought of this cause duh alligator man and fire man go good together blah blah

But the imagery of Kremy slinking out of his tent on a cold night out in the woods. He and Gideon have been traveling together for a good while now; started just as the weather was wearing off from winter, the warmth coming back into the world. They’ve been traveling together for so long the weathers turning bitter.

Their fire had long since been extinguished and the wind whips around their makeshift campsite. Even despite the trees, the cold air rushes through like waves, chilling Kremy’s already cold blood to ice. No matter how deeply he burrows into his tent, swathed in his blankets, he can’t seem to retain any of his heat.

I just I magine him pulling his thickest blanket tighter around himself as the wind beats against his shivering body, looking towards the second tent in the small clearing. Debating with himself; “Would he even be okay with this?” “It’s just for warmth.. He’s a god damn walkin’ heater, it only makes sense…” “But he didn’t sign up for THIS-“

Another wash of icy wind sweeps through, making Kremy flinch and pull the blanket just the smallest bit closer. He concludes as he walks to Gideons tent that, Gideon in fact DID sign up for this when they created their contract. Gideon is Kremy’s bodyguard, and in return Kremy feeds Gideon and gives him a percentage of whatever cons he helps Kremy pull off. Kremy can’t feed and pay him if he freezes to death in his tent overnight.

Imagine Kremy creeping towards the tent, seeing a soft glow emanating from inside. He can see from a crack in the tent flap the embers in Gideons hair and beard. Even in his sleep Gideon burns hot. Opening the tent flap is like opening the door to a stove; hot air rushing out at him due to the colder air outside. The warmth blankets Kremy and he can’t even begin to think about stopping the sigh that leaves him.

I imagine Gideon as a light sleeper. He never slept well while he was held on the train; hell he couldn’t even sleep laying down without his arms being hung in the air thanks to the chains attached to the car walls.. But he could and did sleep on the train. The constant noise and rattle of the cars, the sound of the fire he constantly stoked, the voices and laughter of those awful hobgoblins, the trains blaring whistle.. it was all his lullaby for years. Despite how horrible those years on the train had been, the first night he tried to sleep off of it, he laid awake in bed until sunrise.

Gideon couldn’t hear a thing over the sounds of the train. There really wasn’t much else to hear expect for the sounds stated above. There wasn’t much else to worry about. But outside of the train and it’s constant noise… there was so much more. Gideon knew what to expect from the train.

The sigh wakes Gideon from his sleep. His eyes pop open, immediately alert as he quickly scans around his tent. It takes nothing more than a second for Gideon to spot Kremy and relax the tension that flooded into his shoulders.

“Krem? Ever’thin’ ‘lright?” He’d ask, his voice thick with sleep as he moves to sit up in his bedroll.

Kremy would hesitate to open his mouth a moment, having forgotten to actually come up with what to say to Gideon. He could just be upfront and explain that he’s cold… But making up some long winded excuse that doesn’t involve looking weak willed has always been Kremy’s go to.

When he does actually open his mouth to start on the second option, another blast of cold air hits and makes Kremy shiver hard, eyes squinting against the torrent of sharp winds. He ducks deeper into his blanket cocoon, anything he could have said blown away with the wind.

Gideon watches this and immediately gets the picture here. Gideon can be.. a dense man. He’s not exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer ya know. But he cares for Kremy. Kremy’s done so much for him over the time they’ve been together.. He’s given Gideon some kind of purpose. He’s given Gideon a sense of belonging. He’s given Gideon a constant companion… He gave Gideon that little comb, the first thing anyone has ever given to him of their free will.

The least Gideon can give back is some warmth.

“Geez, man, get in here and close that behind ya, would ya? Lettin’ all the heat out.” Gideon would say, moving to lay back down again while shuffling to the side to allow Kremy into the warm spot that had been beneath Gideon.

Kremy blinks once, twice.. Unsure. A smaller gust beats at his back, forcing Kremy into the heat of Gideons tent. He quickly secures the tent flaps closed before he practically dives into the warmth Gideon has offered.

Kremy curls up on the warm patch of tent ground Gideon had just been on moments before while Gideon is radiating heat to Kremy’s back that he can feel even through his blanket burrito. Kremy closes his eyes, more than content with the way these events have gone.

That is until he feels Gideons hand on the blanket. Kremy’s eyes pop open again as he hears Gideon speak,

“Share. You’ll get warmer faster and stay warm.”

He feels Gideon pull one side of the blanket out from under him, moving to pull it over himself before he shuffles back closer to his original spot. He’s practically pressed against Kremy’s back, hardly an inch separating them. Kremy stiffens up like a board, waiting with almost bated breath to see what comes next… But Gideon just settles behind Kremy, not touching him but just a hairsbreadth away from it…

“Can’t have you freezin’ on me now…” Kremy hears Gideon mutter behind him.

“Yeah… who would feed ya if I did?”

[moeblob]

Yeah! I haven't read any fics focusing on them but I have seen that they exist! And also there's like a five sentence interaction in a fic I read ages ago that lives rent free in my brain. I think about it all the time when I draw Sixty.

[viperwhispered]

Rest

Guess what? I've got more Jamil x reader for y'all. You can also find this on ao3. No warnings, just 866 words of kinda fluffy(?) caretaking stuff with gender-neutral reader.

At this point, you know Jamil’s schedule almost as well as he does. So, when you have the chance, you head to Scarabia’s kitchen, hoping to spend some time with Jamil while he and the other students prepare dinner. 

However, when you enter, it takes you but a moment to notice Jamil’s uncharacteristic fumbling and the tired look in his eyes. The way Jamil’s chopping the vegetables has you worried about him cutting himself with that knife he’s usually so adept with, and it seems it’s only force of habit that’s keeping him on track.

You frown, and when your eyes meet Jamil’s, you can already see him put his guard up.

So he knows what state he is in, huh? And still, here he is.

It seems Jamil is reading your thoughts, all of him telling you drop it before any words are even said.

At least he still lets you lean in and give a quick kiss to his cheek in greeting.

“Hello love. Do you still have a lot on your agenda for today?” you ask, keeping your tone low for at least some semblance of privacy in the busy kitchen.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” is the response you get.

Of course.

It takes a little more pestering before Jamil actually answers your question. Your lips purse. That list is far too long to your liking.

You take a moment to think, juggling your own plans and to-do list against the urgency of the things Jamil mentioned.

“Will Kalim be eating from that?” you ask, pointing at the food Jamil is preparing.

“Yes.”

“Alright, I won’t be touching that one, then. I’ve gotta do a few things but I’ll be back when you’re done here.”

“Don’t,” Jamil says with a glare, clearly aware of what you’re thinking.

Yet even his disapproving look doesn’t have the usual weight behind it.

“Yes. I will,” you say firmly, even as your heart curls inwards with another bout of concern.

Really, when did he get so tired?

And how did you not notice it earlier?

You leave the kitchen before Jamil can protest further, hurrying through the dorm corridors to find Kalim.

Soon you have an enthusiastic – and concerned – supporter for your plans. You have Kalim point out a few reliable Scarabia students to help with a few of the most urgent matters Jamil mentioned – cleaning up the common areas, delivering some paperwork to Crowley, preparing some dorm-wide notices – while you see to Kalim getting his school supplies in order for the following day. You even recruit a couple of third years to help Kalim with his homework.

You’ll see to the rest tomorrow – after all, you do also have a boyfriend to look after.

Your conversation over dinner can hardly be called anything else than an argument – despite Kalim’s best attempts at acting as a moderating force between you two. It is very tempting to ask Kalim to tell Jamil to take the rest of the day off – it’s not like Jamil would be willing to openly disobey a direct order. Still, you really don’t need to remind Jamil of his position on top of everything else that you’re already doing more or less against his wishes.

Eventually, however, Jamil’s had a square meal, the most urgent things on his to-do list are being taken care of, and you’ve managed to drag him to his bed.

“I really wish you wouldn’t push yourself so hard,” you murmur, your arms wrapped tightly around Jamil. You’re telling yourself you really do just want to cuddle, to offer some respite to Jamil. Still, there might also be a part of you worried that if you were to let go, he’d just jump up and get back to working himself to the bone.

Yet, for all his protestations, just the fact that you’ve gotten Jamil to lay down with you speaks volumes of his current exhaustion.

“I can’t just leave my duties, albi. You know this.”

“Making yourself too indispensable, is what you’re doing,” you protest.

Oh, you know it’s not so simple. Not with his background, not with all the expectations and assumptions.

But sometimes you really wish it would be.

Jamil merely scoffs in response to your words.

Still, it is undeniable that he is slowly beginning to relax in your arms, slowly bringing his head closer to yours. His eyes are starting to flutter, too.

“I will still need to help Kalim with his homework, at the very least.”

You wonder who he is trying to convince more, you or himself.

“Amin and Khalil are helping him. They’re basically top of their classes, aren’t they? I’m sure they’ve got it.”

Still, Jamil frowns.

You sigh. He really is not letting go, is he?

“Do you want me to go supervise?” you ask.

And leave you, unsaid yet hanging there right after your words.

“Don’t,” Jamil eventually says, the word barely more than a breath.

It seems he has accepted his fate.

You softly caress Jamil’s hair, listening to his softening breathing.

And when you wake up, wholly unaware of having been lulled to sleep in the first place, it’s to the lightest of touches from Jamil’s fingers.

Tagging @diodellet @twstgo @crystallizsch @jamilvapologist @jamilsimpno69 as per request If you'd like to be tagged for any future works, let me know!

[dragqueenstarscream]

Having S3 Knockout/Starscream thoughts because auuuuu they’re so doomeeeeed.

Like, you’ve got Knockout, who needs his aftercare, (and like, yeah, everyone does, but Knockout is especially dependent on it, plus he’s used to Breakdown who was the aftercare master, and ofc those two facts both amplify eachother), and Starscream, who is almost certainly going to insist on domming because by Primus he is not ready to be vulnerable, and is probably gonna be giving no aftercare after because 

A: He’s never really received it himself that often if at all, 

B: Receiving it itself requires that level of emotional vulnerability that low key terrifies him, 

C: Given that aftercare is generally a foreign concept to him, his preference of what he prefers his doms to do once they’re done is to just leave so he has space to dissociate (why is this man so tragic), he probably on some level figures that’s probably also what Knockout wants him to do, so he thinks he’s doing him a favor,

and D: He probably still needs to go dissociate himself, which he didn’t expect would still happen even though he wasn’t subbing, the deeply traumatized fuck he is.

And given that they’re both catty bitches it’s not like they’re gonna talk about this afterwards and try and work through these problems, Knockout is probably gonna just say “yeah, this was a mistake, let’s not do that again” the next day and internally Starscream will be like oh thank Primus because he was just not ready for all that.

And the thing about them is that under non-toxic circumstances while they’d still probably be friends, they would under most circumstances probably never fuck, because they’re really not sexually compatible. They’re just not eachothers types, they both are mostly into big hunky mechs and the only reason they, being a pair of twinks, fucked is because at that point in time they were eachothers only non-actively-hostile relationships, and they were both desperate for the idealized version of a (for lack of a better term) human connection that they both were deeply craving but not ready to deal with the real, messy, complicated version of.

As decent as the sex itself might have been, the overall experience was deeply unsatisfying for both of them, so in the end this whole situationship gets filed away as an unfulfilling rebound fling, so it's really no wonder that when push came to shove the prospect of aimlessly roaming the galaxy with this guy didn't really appeal to Knockout.

and it's just this deeply tragic situation where while someone (Optimus, it's Optimus) could have "fixed" (read: assisted in the healing process of) Starscream, Knockout was under no obligation to be that person, even if it meant the end of Starscream's story was him getting tossed around by dragons. It's just so unfortunate.

anyways, just so this post isn't a complete downer, I do see a few circumstances where things could have worked out between them, I could see Starscream getting thrown into KO/BD working out well, maybe in some universe where Starscream succeeded in killing Megatron in S1 and ended up leader of the Decepticons with Knockout as his 2IC. Not only because Breakdown is just the absolute sweetest and as stated before, the master of aftercare, but also because Knockout still having his stability in Breakdown and not being high key depressed would probably make him more likely to want to take on a "pet project" in Starscream, so to speak. I also remember a while ago you made a post about a OP/KO/SS (sidenote, its so funny to me how the moment Knockout enters a ship the names just get reduced to letters) fic you wanted to write, I don't think I mentioned it at the time but I absolutely would read that if you made it.

So yeah, Knockout and Starscream aren't inherently doomed, but boy howdy did it turn out that way.

ohhhhhh man, these two are another guilty pleasure of mine, but yes. they are absolutely doomed with the way the narrative played out.

the way you said it pretty much sums it up. these two are searching for something in each other that neither of them will be able to find.

knock out needs someone to take care of him. he needs someone to really love him the way breakdown did. he needs someone who's willing to take care of him and make him feel like he's needed, even if he's not that open about it. it's why ratchet being grateful for him was one of the big tipping points which led him to join the autobots, the way i see it. whether or not he was into ratchet, that's up to you, but either way, he was needed.

and starscream needs to heal. this bot has been through so much, from leaving cybertron to losing his trine, and that's not even getting into all of the bullshit he's had to put up with concerning megatron. he doesn't have the strength to be emotionally vulnerable because he's afraid of the consequences of opening himself up. knock out can be a release for him, a way to just forget everything for a while, to not be himself.

so, these two, being each other's only stable relationship aboard the nemesis, sought what they needed in each other. of course this was never going to end up healthy. if they were just back on cybertron, away from the war, they probably would've been those catty best friends who are practically attached at the hip and love to judge everyone together. but in a sexual relationship? aboard the nemesis? in the middle of a war? this was doomed to fail.

it could work, though. i can see where you're coming from with ko/bd/ss, especially if megatron either stayed gone or straight up died. starscream wouldn't have to put up with megatron's shit anymore, and, since breakdown was still there, knock out and breakdown would be able to have that stability. this might leave knock out with a desire to bring starscream into their relationship, should the three of them be into that.

and i'm glad you brought up ko/op/ss or knockstarop, because it's an underrated idea and probably my ot3! the way i see them, optimus and knock out would probably get together first, but the both of them have expressed interest in starscream, so they invite him into their relationship and now they don't have to pick and choose between each other. more love to go around!

but yeah. as much as i enjoy ko/ss, they were probably never gonna turn out healthy with how canon went.

[spikedfearn]

me editing blood bride, genuinely worried it won't live up to the hype 🫠🫠🫠

[sodaneko]

he's just like me