#there are a lot of things to be said about

[revehae]

see a cheerleader, breed a cheerleader

pairing ↠ """nerd!"""jeno x (f) cheerleader!reader

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, noncon, dubcon, oral (m receiving), male face sitting, face fucking, unprotected sex, blackmail, choking, hitting, virgin!reader

summary ↠ ever since forever, you have always gotten your way with people by whatever means necessary. a wink and a smile is all it takes to make a boy drop to your feet and worship you. no one told you to think that lee jeno would be any different. as it turns out, actions do have consequences.

wc ↠ 14.9k

a/n ↠ lowkey i think i subconsciously drew inspo from the fact that finals week made me consider both suicide and homicide. no jungwoo’s were hurt in the making of this fic. merry christmas! as always, feedback is appreciated!

don’t like it, don’t read.

  ▸ short, sweet, sometimes sticky

it was supposed to be like everybody else.

short, sweet, maybe sticky if you considered that one time you’d shaken that jisung boy’s sweat-coated hands and watched the pale of his face burn the same fierce rose as the lens he saw you through. 

you’d laughed lightheartedly to spare him the embarrassment, telling him that everybody got a little sweaty every now and then, especially you. after all, cheerleading was more than skipping around and twirling. and at those words, you’d watched his eyes haze with the image of you damp with sweat, drenched head to toe.

hook, line, and sinker.

far too easy, exactly how you liked them. smart, easy, and utterly unable to resist you.

no one told you to expect something different from lee jeno. and why would you? he knew all the right answers, had some of the best marks, and practically lived in the library. he perfectly fit the bill of your standard victim.

which was why you had no qualms about approaching him in the library while he was typing away at his laptop, occasionally sipping from some kind of coffee.

as if he could sense he was in imminent danger and needed to evacuate immediately, jeno turned around before you could even make it completely to the table and saw you advancing on him with a pretty, practiced smile. “hi,” you greeted, waving at him. falling, your hands gripped the rear of the chair beside him. “is someone sitting here?”

jeno raised a brow at you, but shook his head. “no, no one’s sitting there.”

“perfect,” you replied, pulling out the chair and taking a seat. you turned so that you were facing him. “jeno, right?”

jeno nodded slowly, wondering where this was going. he got plenty girls, sure, but none ever approached him in the library. “that’s me,” he said, curious. “do i know you?”

“well, probably not,” you replied, giggling as if something was funny. “but, you know… i’m a cheerleader.”

jeno hummed. “are you now?”

you bobbed your head expectantly. “yeah, and i’ve heard about how smart you are. i’m impressed, to be honest. i mean, every time i’m in the library, i see you sitting here. i could never spend so much time here. you must have a lot of resolve to do something like that.”

“you think so?” jeno asked, pretending to be flattered just to see where you were leading him. 

“i do. like, really do,” you replied, brushing your fingers against his forearm. “i just have so many other,” better, “things to do, you know. with cheer, i’m either practicing or resting so that i’ll have energy for practice. it’s really hard on me, you know?”

jeno stifled a chuckle and glanced back at his laptop screen. “you poor thing.”

your brows stitched. he wasn’t paying nearly enough attention to you. it was almost like he was uninterested. “and that’s why i was wondering if you could help me. i mean, you’re such a genius. you could probably do it in half the time it would take me,” you continued, lowering your hand onto his denim-clad thigh, and becoming surprised by how sturdy it felt.

jeno spared a fleeting glance at your hand on his left thigh before his eyes flitted to your face, watching you wink at him and throw him a smile. “let me get this straight,” he started, slowly caressing the back of your hand with his thumb as it sat on his thigh. “you want me to… do your work for you?”

“hey, your hard work wouldn’t go unrewarded,” you insisted, ignoring the unexpected motions of his thumb. “you’d have my attention. i mean, like i said, i don’t have a lot of time to give away. but i’m willing to spend some of it on you.”

jeno snickered, unable to help himself anymore. “are you this patronizing to everyone you meet?” he asked.

your eyes flickered. “p-patronizing?”

jeno smiled, patting your hand before setting it on your own thigh. “sorry, was that a big word for you? you know, when you think you’re too good for something, but you don’t want to say it, so you play sweet and act like you’re helping me, when really, it’s the other way around.”

switching on a dime, you narrowed your eyes at him. for such a pretty boy, he had quite the attitude. “i know what patronizing means. and right now, i think you’re the one being patronizing.”

“am i?” jeno asked, feigning obliviousness. “how’s it taste, cheerleader? doesn’t feel good, does it?”

your face was set in a scowl. sometimes it hurt you to play nice with people, and now was one of those times. “are you gonna help me or not?” you snapped.

“there it is,” jeno sang, chuckling to himself. he put his hand on your thigh now, squeezing the flesh gently. for now. “there’s the real you.”

you swallowed, glaring over at him with a hint of defiance despite the disgusting, foreign feeling rotting in your chest. it had never gone like this before. every situation predating this one had been somewhat predictable, to the point where you’d come to expect certain reactions. this was not that.

“i’ll help you,” jeno said after a pause.

you forced a smile. “great, so…”

jeno interjected, “on one condition.”

smile faltering, you trailed off, processing his words. now he was making some kind of deal with you? who in the hell did this man think he was?

“on one condition?” you echoed, as if you’d somehow misheard him. your brows scrunched in suspicion. “what condition?”

jeno grinned, the look on his face sly as hell and a stark contrast from the disgruntled glower on yours. “give me something in return,” was all he said, the tightening hold on your thigh giving away more than his words had.

you gawked, as if you were offended, and quickly swat at his hand. “i’m not having sex with you, you pervert!”

“sure, you’re not,” jeno answered with a chuckle, eyes twinkling with amusement. everything about you was alluring to him for mostly all the reasons unintended. “but you said i’d have your attention. i guess you think it’s not often a poor, busy nerd like myself gets anyone’s attention, yeah? but nerds get tired too, don’t they? they need to de-stress…”

“that’s not my problem,” you spat. 

“you getting an F isn’t my problem, either,” jeno retorted, shrugging his shoulders. “so what it’s gonna be, cheerleader?”

something about this situation isn’t right to you. maybe it’s the lack of power you currently wielded over him, despite the fact that you had gotten used to having your way with academically competent boys like himself. if he weren’t taller than you and stronger than you, you’d resort to other, more familiar methods.

but jeno had changed the entire trajectory of this interaction for the worse, and now you had to determine whether or not it was beneath you to let him treat you as if you were some kind of object. you sulkily mulled it over, arms folded, trying to think of a way to maintain some semblance of power. “fine,” you finally replied, relenting. “but i’m not doing anything that requires me taking my clothes off.”

“you never seen a good porno, cheerleader?” jeno asked, a stupid, taunting smile blemishing his lips. “that cute little uniform of yours is the whole appeal to some people.”

“my name is…,” you huffed irritably, tired of being referred to by your title. 

“frankly, cheerleader, i don’t care what your name is,” jeno told you with brutal honesty. “you’re the one that introduced yourself as a cheerleader, like that’s your whole personality or something. thinking it would make me fold. you can’t be stupid and demanding.”

you gaped, affronted by the sheer audacity of him to even utter those words to you, like you were some dumb bimbo. “i’m not stupid! i’m just too busy.”

“right. too busy,” jeno echoed, obviously none too convinced. “sorry for assuming.”

with a roll of your eyes, you stood up from the table chair, feeling utterly disrespected. “yeah, you should be,” you said, despite knowing his apology was completely inauthentic. “where’s your phone?”

jeno arched a brow and glanced over to his phone, sitting face down against the table on the other side of him. before he could even respond, you reached over him to grab it and pointed it at his face, unlocking it as if you’d done it a million times before.

then, you started typing away, all the while jeno watched you with an amused expression on his face. he had to admit, you were surely something. and though he found you entertaining, he couldn’t shake the thought that you desperately needed someone to put you in your place.

“reach me here,” you said after a moment, handing him his phone back. the screen was on his messages, a fresh contact with you.  “pleasure doing business with you.”

with that, you walked away. 

jeno shook his head, scoffing. who the hell did you think you were?

over the next few days or so, you met with jeno to better construct exactly what your expectations were pertaining to your work. or at least, those were the words he’d used. most of those limited encounters had ended with his hands sealing around your breasts.

you let it slide, deciding that a little over-the-clothes stuff was relatively harmless. after all, this was the busiest you’d been all year long, and you were far too exhausted when you got home to be burdened with stupid assignments and pesky discussion posts. the next two months, if not the next two weeks, were going to kill you if you didn’t have someone to carry at least half the workload on your behalf.

it was okay. jeno’s inability to keep his hands to himself was fine. it wasn’t like anybody was going to know, or that this arrangement would last long enough for them to find out. you would get to keep your dignity and your grades, without saving one at the expense of the other.

short, sweet, and sticky, remember? maybe the latter was simply manifesting in the way jeno’s hands were stuck to you. not that anything about him was sweet.

more like sacrifice.

  ▸ gilded age

“guess who just made the list of this week’s top ten trending sluts,” jennie said as she walked up beside you and roseanne.

roseanne perked up that, though she couldn’t help but mischievously quip, “you?”

jennie narrowed her eyes. “hoe, as if,” she spat. “i know how to keep my legs closed.”

you snickered. “god, what happened now?”

“a sex tape got leaked. hyeri, and apparently johnny.”

your nose scrunched, as if disgusted. “always knew she was a slut. i mean, you should have been there to see the way she acted around the jocks in high school. her eyes were practically screaming, ‘pick me, choose me, fuck me,’” you mocked.

roseanne burst into giggles, downing the rest of what was left in her red cup. “i don’t think that’s how that goes,” she chimed. “but johnny? is she crazy? i hope they didn’t do it raw. i heard rumors that he’s got the clap.” 

“he sure clapped something, alright,” jennie retorted, much to your amusement. “it was definitely raw. hope it was worth the itch. you guys wanna see?”

“absolutely not,” you said, shaking your head vigorously. “i bet her parents would love to see it, though. on second thought, send me it.”

roseanne gawked. “are you serious?”

you bobbed your head, grinning deviously. “yeah. you guys have no idea what that bitch was like in high school. i tried teaching her a lesson, but she just never learned. it’s like the bitch is addicted to pain or something.”

jennie shook her head, pretending to disapprove, though she was intrigued to see how far you would your obvious loathing. “just sent it.”

your phone vibrated in your hand a few seconds later. you opened your instagram burner account, scrolling through your main’s following to find hyeri’s mother’s page, and dropped the video in her inbox. your sly giggle alerted your friends to your success and you dropped your phone in your pocket, satisfied.

“oh, you’re sick,” jennie insulted playfully, nudging your arm. “i wonder if she’ll say anything.”

you shrugged your shoulders, feigning nonchalance as if you weren’t excited to see how her mother would respond. “don’t know, but i’m more curious about if she’ll talk to hyeri about it. i’d love to be a fly on the myung’s wall when that happens.”

roseanne tapped your shoulder. “hey, don’t look now, but that jeno guy is staring you.”

your head whirled around, spotting jeno in his own corner of the party, indeed watching your every move as if he wanted to consume you and was waiting for the perfect moment to attack. which, if he was, would not be surprising. 

roseanne sighed in annoyance. “i literally just said don’t look now.”

you turned back to face them, shaking your head. “don’t worry about that creep,” you replied, brushing it off. “he’s just begging to get in my pants. didn’t even know he went to parties.”

for whatever reason, jennie laughed. something about what you said tickled her, apparently. “um, yeah. that’s jeno for you, alright. he’s either partying with his friends or grinding in the library, no in between. perfectly balanced lifestyle, i have to admit it.”

your brows furrowed. that was news to you. and probably an important piece of information that you’d conveniently missed when narrowing down your targets. maybe you should have asked around about him more. you just didn’t think that someone who studied as hard as he did could also be the life of the party.

what was he doing here, anyway? shouldn’t he have been off doing your homework? useless fucking nerdy-not.

“do you guys know each other or something?” roseanne pressed, noticing the strange tension in the air despite the fact that you and jeno were feet apart. which was honestly admirable. “do you think you could get him to put me on with jungwoo?”

jennie’s laughter rang out again, only this time, it was much louder, and much more mocking. “please. jungwoo isn’t gonna touch any of us after how she broke his heart. you’d have better luck with jaehyun,” she sneered.

roseanne glared, a snarl on her face. “fuck jaehyun.”

“yeah, i bet you want to. i bet you’re still dreaming of that big, thick, meaty dick you wouldn’t shut up about, like, two months ago.”

“a lot can change in two months.”

“oh, it sure can,” jennie replied, humming. “it sure can.”

  ▸ takes two to tango

jeno: come over

you: no

jeno: that wasn’t a request 

you: no where in our agreement does it say you get to boss me around

jeno: not even for an A?

you: that’s what your grabby hands are for

jeno: i don’t have to do this, you know. i can let you be a grown up and fiend for yourself like the rest of us

you: i’m otw, chill. jesus

the knock of your fist against jeno’s door was incessant, more than likely enough to exasperate his neighbors, given that it was particularly late at night and a good number of them had to have been sleeping.

jeno threw the door open with a scowl, obviously irritated. “you are so fucking annoying,” he hissed, dragging you inside and shutting the door behind you. 

“ow!” you cried out, snatching your arm away. “stop that, i’m sore.”

jeno shook his head, his discontent frown disappearing in favor of an entertained, idiotic smile. “sore, huh? from doing what?”

you rolled your eyes. “if it isn’t obvious, i’m a cheerleader,” you reminded, gesturing down to your uniform. “meaning, i cheer.”

ignoring your snarky attitude, jeno glanced you up in down, taking in the sight of you in that tight, short cheer uniform that clung to you rather snugly. sweat still beaded at your damp legs and likely gathered between your breasts and down your back, as jeno was imagining. “yeah, you cheer. you won’t let me forget,” he said, amused.

“well, i’m busy,” you said, crossing your arms.

busy, my fucking ass, jeno thought to himself. “yeah, you won’t let me forget that, either. and yet, i saw you giggling with your friends at a party two weeks ago, looking completely fine. your poor, exhausted legs seemed to be working perfectly.”

“what, so i can’t have hobbies now?”

“sure, you can,” jeno replied, shrugging his shoulders. “i just have to ask, do you ever do anything productive with your time?”

“of course, i do,” you hissed, before quickly deflecting, “but we both know that’s not why you made me come all the way over here. so, what do you want?”

“your attention,” jeno said without missing a beat. his hands plopped against your bare shoulders and began wandering down your arms, rubbing them back and forth. “i’m in desperate need of a cheerleader’s sweet, precious attention.”

the disgruntled grimace on your face was the most effort you made to express your discomfort, not that he was looking there anyway. to him, at the moment, the sight of your body was much more appetizing. you watched with a repugnant burn simmering in your gaze as his eyes met your long, slender legs.

without warning, jeno grabbed you by your waist and hoisted you into the air, making you cry out in surprise. arms dangling around his neck, you held on for dear life, not an inch of your body feeling safe in his arms. you had been hauled further away from the ground by your cheermates, but this was different; no one wanted to fail, meaning no one would drop you. you had no reason to assume that jeno would handle you delicately.

but his burly arms, however, were not lost on you. though you hadn’t yet seen them in full power, your interactions mostly taking form of him forcing your back flush against the chiseled muscle of his chest as he kneaded yours, you could only imagine what the hands that groped you were capable of. 

in a matter of seconds, you landed on your back against his sheets, another shrill screech escaping your throat. “jeno, what the hell?” you exclaimed. 

“i’m not getting on my knees for you,” jeno said, the slyest of smiles tugging at his lips. “not unless it’s to fuck you. and you’re just too good to give it up, aren’t you?”

for him, definitely. and you would have said so, but your lips parted in a gasp, surprised and startled. something wet pushed along your sore legs, which were abruptly yanked to pillars far above your head so that they’d be more conveniently within reach of jeno’s tongue as he licked long, hot lines at them.

your eyes were rooted on him, fixed in a shape unlike their natural narrowed, black blaze and it would instead be more apt likening them to the fear and fret of a deer in crossed paths. wide, waiting, almost innocent. too used to circumstance to understand its fabric and too unfamiliar to chance to understand its fate.

unsatisfied, jeno bent your knee and pushed your leg further as he stood over the edge of his bed, and, in turn, over you, a grip on your ankles that you could feel in your bones. “jeno, that hurts,” you whined. 

jeno didn’t understand why you were bitching. “but you’re a cheerleader,” he echoed. “aren’t you flexible?”

you writhed uncomfortably as he continued shamelessly, tongue even daring to twist against the bone underneath the bend of your knee, a sensation that itched more than you expected. his lips sealed around your skin, sucking and nibbling.

needless to say, it was unlike anything you had experienced before. “stop, that’s weird!”

“stop complaining,” jeno groaned, pushing your leg even harder. “it’s like all you ever do is complain about how hard your life is.”

your eyes stung now not only with loathing, but the threat of hot tears. it was stupid; it sounded dramatic, but you felt it was warranted when he was the one actively making your life harder. “you’re a fucking weirdo,” you snapped. 

jeno heard it. the slight tremble in your voice despite the courage you’d been feigning. that was the sole reason he even bothered to look up at your face, the tears in them stealing his attention away in a heartbeat. he didn’t know whether to be amused or annoyed, or maybe even both. “god, now you’re crying,” he pointed out. “i haven’t even done anything to you. do you need me to give you a reason to cry?”

you shook your head. all you needed was to go home and recharge. you were beginning to doubt whether or not he was worth the trouble he carried with him in exchange for a grade that would keep your parents off your back, especially if he was going to make pulling stunts like this a regular habit. 

the last thing you expected jeno to do was tug the bottom of your top past the shadow of your breasts, slackening the taut grip on your ankles in favor of your wrists as if he knew you would dare resist him, and burying his face between your chest. you exhaled shakily, mortified by the hot, wet feel of his tongue licking a stripe between your breasts, gathering leftover sweat on its tip.

and you did thrash. but you were getting a taste of that power now; a power that wasn’t your own, a power that you couldn’t reap. a power that grabbed you with its calloused fist with a might so strong you couldn’t move. and it was for the first time that you felt utterly weak. there had to be a word for something as unfathomable as that, but it was so foreign to you that you couldn’t think of it.

to make matters worse, jeno was taking his time, sucking bruises onto the skin of your chest in between his licking, as if he wanted to ensure there was no spot left untouched, no drop of sweat left behind. your face strained with discomfort, wanting more than anything to get away from him and this awful feeling rotting inside of your heart.

maybe your cries for mercy were heard, because no sooner had you hoped for an end than it came. “you can go now,” jeno said, pulling away. he pulled your shirt back down and smoothed out any wrinkles, which was almost kind of him.

even though you were more than eager to be rid of him, you lay there, dumbfounded. it was one thing to be violated, and it was another to be dismissed, but to happen in rapid succession of each other quickly bred some ugly emotion that was only festering.

jeno had expected you to scurry out of his bed, and out of his apartment, so the fact that you were still there bemused him. “what, do you want more?” he teased. 

you shook your head, sitting up a little too quickly. your head started to feel lightheaded. you barked, “that isn’t what i agreed to!”

jeno had the audacity to laugh. like you had told a joke of some kind. “isn’t it? your clothes are still technically on. that was what you agreed to. remember?”

you dropped to your feet, pushing past him. “you’re disgusting,” was all you said, making a beeline for the door.

“takes two to tango, baby,” jeno called after you, simpering.

you didn’t look back. you couldn’t. there was an unpleasant stir in your gut - not as easily distinguishable as the loathing - unlike anything you had ever felt and you desperately wanted it to go away, to rid of yourself of anything that even remotely resembled lee jeno.

  ▸ chess, not checkers

deep, low grunts smacked against the walls and bounced back with almost the same amount of vigor of jeno’s quick, unrelenting hips, the sound nearly as hard and heavy as he was. the only thing rivaling the tightness of the hole he was using was the wince of his closed eyes and the grip of his strong hands.

jeno didn’t want to see. it would be too blatantly obvious that she wasn’t you, and that it wasn’t your blemished hips he was holding. though she sounded nothing like you. he knew that you would have been so much whinier, and despite finding them painfully obnoxious, he found himself longing to hear all your worthless, melodramatic complaints.

instead, he heard soft moans mingling with his own labored sounds as his hips moved with a mind of their own, imagining it was you underneath him where you truly belonged.

the image stained the back of his eyelids, burned behind them every time he closed his eyes; the shortness of your pleated skirt scrunched around your hips, weak legs on his broad shoulders with nicks and bruises scattered here and there, arms swinging aimlessly.

and if he got tired of hearing you, he could simply press his palm squarely against your mouth, muting the sound of your incessant fussing. if he really wanted to put you in your place, he could clasp his hands around your throat and clamp down onto your windpipe till all that escaped you was a pitiful, featherlight squeak.

jeno could tell no one had ever properly put you in your place before, no one had ever stood up to you and reminded you of your level. you were in desperate need of a humbling and didn’t even know it yourself. no one better than jeno for the role, he figured. a little cheerleader parading around in a uniform to feel different from everybody else she met didn’t scare him whatsoever.

the only thing saving you was essentially the fact that you were undeniably pretty and not necessarily to blame for the school’s superficial culture, which elevated girls like you in terms of status despite it having no real meaning or manifestations outside of campus, and put you on top when you were within the bubble.

but outside the bubble, away from the boys who thought of you as this beautiful, unattainable poison and the girls who enabled you with a faux sense of togetherness, you had no real identity, no real power, and no real worth.

and yet, maybe jeno was contributing to the problem. maybe he had inadvertently become one of the people elevating you. because choking in the heat of the moment, he uttered your name, forgetting who he was with and where he was.

hands shoved at him, hard. at least, hard enough for him to be jolted out of his reverie, finally gazing into the eyes that seethed because of him. “did you just call me that evil witch’s name?” seoa barked.

jeno winced. that was a fair reaction, all things considered. he wouldn’t have wanted to have been called your name out of everyone’s, either. he rubbed his nape. “well…”

“unbelievable,” seoa replied, scoffing. she got out of the bed and hurriedly began picking her clothes up from the floor, redressing herself.

jeno exhaled a breath, mostly annoyed that his orgasm had been ruined, but still feeling a hint of sympathy. “seoa, wait,” he said, touching her shoulder.

seoa recoiled, pulling away. jeno had never seen anyone be so ready to put on their pants after being with him, not even with a hell of a schedule after. “never touch me again,” she spat, walking out with her shoes in tow. “fuck you.”

jeno ran a hand through his hair, watching her leave, and murmured under his breath, “god dammit.”

a few days later, while they were attending a festival, jaemin marched over to jeno, draping an arm over his shoulder, and asked, “wanna tell me why seoa blocked all of us and she’s been glaring at me and mark since she got here?”

jeno snickered, shaking his head in slight disbelief. he was over it by now, he figured she would be too. “i let a certain cheerleader’s name slip while i was balls deep inside her,” he confessed. which he wasn’t necessarily proud of, considering the only reason he even knew your name was because you’d saved your own contact on his phone.

jaemin’s brows furrowed, glancing around as if he was trying to spot you in the crowd like a heat-seeking missle. “who?”

rolling his eyes, jeno grabbed the back of jaemin’s head with one hand and turned it in your general direction, hoping it would help. and jeno knew it had when jaemin’s confusion melted into disgust. 

“oh, that bitch?” he asked, nose wrinkled.

jeno chuckled, releasing his friend’s head. “she’s a bitch, but she’s pretty.”

jaemin couldn’t argue with that fact even if he’d wanted to. “yeah, i’ll give her that. cute in the face. she’s fake as hell, though. played jungwoo like a fiddle. he did six months worth of her homework because she promised they’d get together.”

that was news to jeno. he knew you were cruel, having had stories from jisung and the like, but he never knew of your history with jungwoo. if it could be called that. “did they fuck?” he couldn’t help but ask.

jaemin shook his head, taking a sip from the bottle in his hand before he answered, “he said she always turned him down. told him she was waiting for ‘the perfect moment.’”

now that was funny as hell. jeno had only known you for a few weeks and yet even he quickly pieced together that you weren’t the romantic type. “well, that’s fucked up,” he said, happily accepting yet another reason to dislike you. “but he’s dumb as fuck if he did her homework for six months without getting a crumb of pussy in return.”

jaemin made a face, nodding. “yeah,” he exhaled, giving the impression that he’d wanted to defend jungwoo. “but man, what possessed you to say her name while fucking the seoa? i need a good excuse. you just blew my shot with her.”

jeno shrugged. “don’t have one. she approached me maybe three weeks ago asking me to do her homework, and i agreed.”

jaemin gawked. that didn’t sound like jeno. like at all. “man, what? is she paying you?”

“oh, dividends,” jeno quipped.

“oh, and in what? pussy?”

“nope.”

jaemin looked horrified. he was so damn dramatic. “then, why the hell are you doing her bidding? that doesn’t sound like you.”

it didn’t, not immediately, but jeno had his reasons. “entertainment purposes,” he replied curtly.

jaemin shook his head, taking another swig of his drink. certainly, he was drinking, not smoking. “you’re becoming her pawn for entertainment purposes? unbelievable, bro.”

“chess, not checkers, jaem.” jeno smirked, putting a hand on jaemin’s shoulder. “you’ll see.”

▸ things good guys do 

“you’re lucky i was already out,” jeno told you when you let him into your apartment. “it’s the middle of the night for fuck’s sake. what do you want?”

“oh, please,” you spat, damn near rolling your eyes. your arms were folded. “you get to call me over at the ungodly hour, but when i do it, it’s a problem?”

jeno exhaled through his nose and ran a hand through his hair, wondering why he bothered to come here when he had no obligation to do your bidding, as jaemin had put it. but something told him that he wouldn’t have any regrets. “yeah, it is. now, what do you want?”

you were silent for a few moments, somewhat ashamed of the request you would ultimately make. you sighed, surrendering. “i need help with calculus,” you finally said.

jeno’s shoulders drooped, eyes shrinking in a contemptuous disbelief. “seriously?”

“seriously,” you repeated, sitting down on your couch as your laptop screen glared back at you from the coffee table.

jeno groaned, “i seriously don’t know how you even got into this school. can’t you do anything by yourself?”

you gawked, affronted. he made you sound like some incompetent, immature dickhead. “contrary to a weirdly popular belief, i’m actually really smart,” you insisted, having the transcripts to prove it. “but my professor sucks and i need an eighty-nine on my final to keep my A. and it’s not like you can walk in and take it for me because it’s proctored.”

jeno shook his head and reminded, “you know this little agreement we have doesn’t include me tutoring you, right?”

“it didn’t include you assaulting me, either,” you retorted.

“you think that was assault?” jeno asked, scoffing. he dropped beside you on your couch, the proximity instinctively making you suck in a breath. “if i wasn’t a good guy, i’d show you assault.”

scooting over to ensure maximum distance between your bodies, you argued, “good guys don’t call themselves good guys.”

“good guys have self-control,” jeno replied matter-of-factly, resisting a chuckle. he didn’t make a move to touch you, but he noticed how tense you looked now that he was sitting beside you. “i’ll tutor you, but we’ll have to up the terms of our agreement.”

you swallowed sharply, throat bobbing. you had a feeling you weren’t going to enjoy these new terms. “what do you want?”

“a blowjob.”

“that’s disgusting,” you spat without a second thought, features contorting with repugnance.

jeno quipped, “and so is your inability to do your school work without using and depending on every intelligent boy you meet, but hey, i’m sure you can’t help that.”

you sighed, exasperated, and cradled your face in your hands. was this seriously what your life had come to? giving a boy a blowjob in exchange for a pretty transcript?

jeno grinned, appreciating the sight of you in distress. it was a sign, a good sign, and he intended to bring it out of you more and more, bleeding you absolutely dry. lowering a hand onto your thigh, he urged, “come on, bruise those little knees for me. don’t you bruise ‘em for cheer?”

“that’s not the same!” you whined. 

“of course, it’s not,” jeno said, squeezing your thigh as his shoulders trembled with laughter. “cheer isn’t helping you graduate with flying colors.”

you desperately wanted him to be wrong, you were begging for him to be wrong, but you both knew that if he was, he wouldn’t have been here with you at the moment. not now, not three weeks ago, not ever. so you sucked it up, slamming down your laptop lid, and grumbled, “fine.”

maybe he didn’t come here for nothing, after all. grateful he’d trusted his gut, jeno stood up and clutched your arm to pull you along with him. “come on, let’s go to your room. i like my blowjobs a little messy and i’m sure you don’t want to mess up your nice carpet.”

you snatched your arm away from him, hating his insistence on touching you for every little reason whenever he possibly could, even if it was insignificant. your mouth was taut as you begrudgingly headed for your bedroom.

it was obvious that you were sour. walking behind you, jeno couldn’t help but chime, “glad to see that you can at least walk by yourself!”

you bristled in annoyance, wishing you could just get rid of him, but you knew it wouldn’t be wise to discard him so quickly. at least for now, he still held some kind of value.

jeno walked in behind you, looking particularly radiant, and you hated that you knew why. hell, you hated the reason itself. “get on your knees,” he commanded.

normally, you would complain about him giving you orders as if you were his lap dog or something, but you just wanted to get this over with. you were already so over this entire week. you slowly dropped to your knees, trying to ignore how demeaning it felt. 

“good girl,” jeno praised at your compliance. “now, look up at me with those pretty eyes and ask me to help you with calc. ask me nicely.”

you met his eyes, noticing the expectant glimmer in his gaze that you so badly wanted to knock off. but you weren’t dumb enough to incite violence against a grown man that walked around with his bulging muscles on display for all the world to see, and you didn’t doubt that he would hit you back. “jeno, please help me with calculus,” you pleaded, choosing your battles.

jeno hummed, satisfied. “you sound so pretty and sweet when you ask nicely, instead of demanding things. didn’t know you were capable of that,” he told you, running his fingers through your hair. “take it out. get me hard.”

your hands moved to his sweatpants, tugging at them enough to bring them down just shy of his knees, and doing the same with his underwear. he wasn’t hard yet, but that would be an easy fix; witnessing your state of pure anguish, watching you speak and move as if you were totally dejected, always excited him.

not to mention that the sight of you on your knees for him, the more he took it in, was arousing him even more than he thought it would. he had pictured it in his mind before, you serving him, pleasuring him, existing solely for him, but nothing could compare to the sight he beheld now.

at least, nothing other than you actually doing something rather than sitting there like an idiot. he liked taking control, but he figured you would take matters into your own hands, literally, when he gave the order. “do you need me to tell you what to do or something?” he asked, huffing irritably. “put your tongue on it. tease the head.”

your face and ears burned in ways they rarely did, but you nodded wordlessly and did as told, bracing your hands on his thighs and reluctantly pressing your tongue onto his tip, looking anywhere but his eyes as the muscle swirled around.

that amused jeno to no end. at least for now, he would let it slide, not feeling the need to maintain eye contact with you at the moment. if he needed to, he would simply just grab a nice, thick fistful of your hair and yank it back to jolt your head up at him. he could still see your pretty, bare face, hair arranged messily at the top of your head with a few needless strands jutting out here and there.

he liked that. of course, he would have been more than enthusiastic to have you suck him off if you’d been all dolled up, making you ruin your makeup and undo at least an hour of careful, clean work, but he also just took pleasure in seeing this natural, undone part of you. he wanted to see you for what you really were.

it didn’t take long for him to get hard. with all his thoughts revolving around you and the feel of your tongue on the head of his dick, that was a no-brainer. “good, now put it in your mouth. take as much as you can and not an inch less,” jeno instructed.

widening your mouth, you accepted his stout, heavy cock into your mouth, lips forming a tight suction around the head and steadily advancing down his shaft. bit by bit, inch by nightmarishly thick inch. you had made it maybe halfway down his shaft when you quickly discovered your limit.

jeno was surprisingly content, despite the fact that you definitely still had a few more inches to go. “there you go,” he said, giving your head a soft pat of approval. “suck. go slow. and don’t you dare let me feel any teeth.” 

your heart was thumping out of something you could only understand as fear, even though jeno hadn’t done anything to warrant it yet. inhaling through your nose, you tried to level your breathing, taking your time to draw in his cock lest you made a mistake. the hint of warning in jeno’s voice, in spite of the calmness, was clear.

jeno, on the other hand, was reaching elysian heights. faint grunts of, “fuck,” escaped his pink lips, large hands at his sides reflexively tensing into tightly clenched fists in need of something to grab, hips just barely stuttering. your mouth was hot and wet, with the added benefit of your torturous tongue pressed against his size.

there was a pinch of desperacy in your actions that overcame the resistance; a desperacy not necessarily to please him, but to appease him. accidents were the last thing you could afford and eliciting his frustration was the last thing you wanted.

“lick,” jeno said, chest undulating. “up and down.”

with a hum, you started drawing long, wet lines back and forth on his veiny shaft, almost as if you were tracing the bold veins with your tongue. jeno’s reaction was instantaneous, deep groans the only thing you could hear other than the wet sound of your mouth on his cock, sucking and licking. 

jeno’s eyes fluttered closed. “fuck. yeah, like that.”

you pressed your tongue against the underside of his dick, lingering in each spot for a moment before you continued, mostly because he seemed to like it when you did. which was your north star in an empty, dead night, because you had not a clue what the hell you were doing and you were afraid of making it obvious somehow.

if jeno could tell, he didn’t make it known. he was in a world of his own, all too happily reaping the pleasure from your mouth as if it was a dream come true for him. “kiss my balls. lick it.”

you stifled the sigh you were half tempted to let loose, pulling off his cock with a wet sound and a string of saliva connecting from the sticky tip to your glossy lips. moving your head, you took a moment to steel yourself before peppering tiny, soft kisses along his balls, down to his scrotum.

it wasn’t the most dignifying thing you had ever done, it may have even been the least, but your aching, sore jaw appreciated the break from sucking. you dragged your tongue over his testicles, tasting nothing but rubbery flesh. you were too busy avoiding his eyes to notice, but his face was tensing with pleasure, lips parting in low murmurs.

compared to when you first started, jeno was drastically harder now, massive, monstrous cock nearly bursting at the veins with precum leaking out from the thick tip. had your goal been to take all of him entirely, the sheer size of him would have immediately overwhelmed you.

“switch to your hand and go back to sucking me off,” jeno said, firm yet quiet. it sounded like he was trying to restrain himself, barely holding it together.

at least you were a fast learner. teasing the head of his cock, you gave it a few slow, tentative licks before you began to take him into your mouth again, all the while gently fondling his balls with your fingers. jeno groaned, arching into your touch. he couldn’t help himself.

you could taste the vicious amount of precum staining your tongue and you didn’t know how to describe it, other than slightly tart. the flavor blended with that of your own saliva, lingering on the roof of your mouth and the warm flesh underneath the flap of your tongue, mild as could be.

at least it wasn’t downright awful. you had heard stories before, not that you’d ever known what to make of them, or even pictured yourself being inside of them. if a month ago, someone had told you that you’d be on your knees for a man - for anyone - you would have said they were delusional.

jeno’s patience had worn thin and when you least expected it, he hauled you into the air, making you cry out in surprise just as you had the first time he’d lifted you into his buff, meaty arms. he tossed you onto the bed, just shy of the headboard, and suddenly straddled your chest. you gasped out a breath.

“open up,” jeno said, cock positioned right in front of your mouth.

not that he gave you the time to obey him, because he pressed himself against your slightly parted lips and forced them wider, entering your mouth on his own. your face strained, perfectly threaded brows tugging down into a discontented arch.

when you tried to pull away, jeno grabbed the sides of your face and pushed you onto his shaft with trembling hands, making you take him and leaving no room for escape, not until he decided he was done with you. there was only one concern present in his mind and that was getting himself off.

tears stung your eyes, that same implacable feeling you had when he’d dragged his tongue over the expanse of your soft, shaved legs and bare, sweaty chest finding you again in the most of unwanted company. jeno scoffed, spitefully tugging at your hair. “you know what’s funny? you’re such a fucking crybaby. you can’t take even half of what you give to others.”

chin flush against his scrotum and your nose not even an inch away from his bush, you almost gagged. the slurping sounds were humiliating, loud, wet squelching with every other big gulp making you want to shrink. however, jeno loved it, obsessing over the idea of making a mess out of you. the sound went straight to his dick.

jeno held your face in that low position, deeper than you’d ever taken him so far. “i’m really not that bad of a guy, you know,” jeno said, sounding like he truly believed it. you could have scoffed, if not for obvious reasons. “you just bring it out of me. i’m really just treating you like how you treat everybody else.”

he made you sound like something straight out of hell and you couldn’t help but think it was an unfair justification for something that felt too close to punishment. he obviously thought he knew you better than he did and it made you aggravated. that, or he somehow thought he was better than you.

there was a fleeting second of relief when jeno unmounted your chest and let you breathe, only to be crushed again when he dragged you by your wrists to the edge of your mattress, leaving you in the deep end. your eyes struggled to grasp with the flipped image of him nearing you, cock back down your throat before you could even blink.

though his hips thankfully had been moving at a calmer, steady pace before, despite forcing himself deeper than you could handle, he began to thrust more urgently into your mouth with the new change, embedding himself even further into your throat than you knew was possible. 

you cried harder, hating every second of it. the salty, bitter tang of your tears mingled with the tainted taste of spit and sharp bite of precum that had come to stain your chin and cupid’s bow. the vigor of his movements was overwhelming, overpowering.

“that’s it, cheerleader. cry harder,” jeno taunted, tracing his thumb over your face to swipe at the trail of tears. all the while his hips were moving faster, harder.

it felt like such a mockery, him doing that. a feigned act of sympathy while perpetuating the torment that was reducing you to tears as a selfish means of achieving pleasure of his own. 

then, his hands wandered down to your breasts, slipping inside your night shirt and mauling your chest. running his hands in a circle, his thumb brushed the erect, colored nipples and he clasped his hands around your chest, squeezing your breasts. “fuck, i’m close,” he grunted, grip tightening, pace hastening, force increasing. 

with how close he was, your nose was squarely against his the flesh of his balls, effectively cutting off your exhale. your heart thudded, racing and pounding. tensing with panic, your hands frantically moved, striking at his navel and thighs. even your legs were in alarm, unstill towards the other end of the bed. 

jeno groaned, smacking your cheek. another slap followed the sizzle, straight against your chest. “calm the fuck down,” he hissed, raising his arm in preparation to hit you again. “i’ll let you breathe as soon as i come, so you better not get in the way, if you know what’s good for you.”

even if you wanted to, you couldn’t stay calm. your body physically couldn’t handle it, responding the only way it knew how, trying to protect you. somebody had to. you closed your eyes, face warm with tears and panic, and you tried to brace your hands on the sheets, anything to comfort and stabilize yourself.

it got to a point where jeno couldn’t hold back anymore and he climaxed with a prolonged, guttural groan, hips still brutally smacking into your mouth as he painted your tongue and the back of your throat with his cum. he went as far as to grab your head again, forcing himself onto you as deep as he could go, and demanding, “swallow it.”

like hell you would. you pushed him away, coughing and choking as soon as you did, drops of cum pooling from your mouth and some of it flying here and there in the midst of your coughing fit.

irritated, jeno pressed his tongue against the roof his mouth. “you’re so fucking useless,” he groaned, grabbing his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants and quickly turning on the camera. “look at you. sitting here choking on my cum. you want it again, don’t you?”

you sat up, nearly tumbling over the edge of your bed from the intense convulsing, and turned to face the other way as you hunched over, tightly clasping your sheets. “fuck off, you got what you wanted!” you rasped.

jeno laughed. you sounded so gravelly. “you’re right. i did,” he replied, putting back on his pants and pocketing his phone. “so, tutoring. i’ll see you tomorrow. nighty night, cheerleader.”

he gave you a pat on the head and turned, heading straight for the door.

▸ hard feelings

something about today was different than usual. 

when you woke up, you had felt a shift in the air, but you’d chalked it up to being nervous about the final you had in three hours.

but when you finally went to go take it, however, you quickly realized that the unsettling feeling you had was not simply pre-exam jitters. it was something much more sinister than that. with the status you held on campus, you were used to being watched and gawked at, but this was different.

it felt like everybody and their mother was looking at you.

you were confused. you had been the subject of this much attention before, but only once; it was a couple years back when someone had spread a dirty, foul rumor about you. there was a social media page for your school called top ten, mostly used to shame women for their sexual exploits, but some men made their way on it too. that was how you heard about johnny’s clap rumor.

long story short, a rumor about you had originated there and it had taken you weeks to clear your name. but by that time, there was already another slut of the week. you were lucky to have your situation not only be false and debunked, but word of mouth. only the most unlucky of people, like hyeri, got images or videos of themselves posted.

and you were a community favorite. you would understand if you were new, but you had built a reputation around here. why would anybody believe floating rumors about you now?

but the abundance of stares didn’t end there. even in the cafe, you had caught someone watching you a little too hard to be a casual leer of admiration. and you were determined to find out why.

fortunately, you were able to find jennie and roseanne walking and talking in the courtyard, and you called out their names to stop them.

jennie turned first, and you watched her smile drop in real time. she glanced around, frantic, as if she was worried about someone watching her too.

roseanne smiled thinly, halfheartedly lifting her hand to wave. “hey,” she greeted quietly, matching jennie’s nerves.

they knew something you didn’t and it was glaringly obvious. “what’s going on?” you asked. “everyone’s looking at me and i know i’m not going crazy yet.”

jennie and roseanne glanced between each other, as if they both had bad news but neither of them wanted to be the one to tell you. after a few seconds, jennie groaned and said, “you might want to check top ten.”

your brows furrowed. you, on top ten? again? god, people could be so infuriating. “ugh, what rumor did they spread about me this time?”

jennie winced, which only made you more anxious. “it’s not just a rumor,” she whispered. “…it’s a video.”

“video?” you echoed in disbelief. that didn’t make sense. you hadn’t been with anyone except…except jeno. you tensed with anger.

roseanne opened her phone to show you the video that had been posted. it was an anonymous submission that claimed to be a recording of you. unfortunately, it was you, bits of your chest exposed from jeno reaching into your shirt and drops of cum landing there as you fought for breath. your face wasn’t visible, but there were some other distinguishing signs, like your hair and skin and sheets.

your heart thudded and your shoulders went cold, but your eyes were scalding. you were well aware that jeno didn’t like you, you didn’t exactly love him either, but you never thought he would stoop low enough to hurt you like this.

“i’m sorry,” roseanne apologized, dropping her phone in her purse when you were done. the video was only a few seconds long, but the damage was forever. “but don’t worry. it’s not like it’s top three worthy. everyone will move on next week.”

jennie nodded in agreement and briefly patted your back. “yeah. we’ll hang out again when this all blows over, i promise.”

then, they walked away. leaving you reeling with ache and betrayal. your friends didn’t want to be seen with you anymore. you were an embarrassment.

you swallowed the bitter feeling scorching up your throat and tapped your pockets for your phone, knowing there was one person you needed to see. 

you: you and i need to talk. right now.

jeno: about what?

you: don’t play dumb, i know you sent that video in!

jeno: maybe u should have swallowed

you: you know what, i don’t need you. i never have. and i don’t want your help anymore. just leave me alone

jeno: [one attachment]

jeno: you sure about that? because i’m sure there’s plenty of people that would love to see the version with your face in it

you gawked, hiding your phone screen against your chest while glancing around to make sure no one could see.

adjusting your brightness, you unlocked your phone again and texted him back hurriedly.

you: why are you doing this?! i’ve never done anything to you

jeno: this is bigger than just you and me

jeno: now if you don’t want everyone to see that pretty face, come put those lips around me again and we can work something out

and that was how it started. though you hadn’t had the upper hand in weeks, this was the moment you completely lost it. what was once an arrangement for him to help you in exchange for your attention became a hole of misery that you couldn’t dig yourself out of.

one blowjob became two, and two became three until you started to immediately recognize what it meant when you saw his name appear on your screen, knowing what it was before he even asked. not that he ever technically asked. it was always a command, a claim to your body wherever and whenever he wanted.

if you tried to be strong, if you tried to break free of him, he always threatened to make sure that recordings of you on your knees for him went up for all the world to see and no one would ever think of you the same way again. he was more than willing to taint the pretty, perfect image of yourself that you presented to the world.

you felt stuck, trapped. isolated with nowhere to go, no way out. you tried to conjure up a way to escape this situation, but you couldn’t think of anything feasible. if you wanted to protect what was left of your social life and dignity, if you wanted to go outside without being ashamed, your only option was to be compliant.

no matter how many late nights and sore throats you had to go through.

you were in the middle of dozing off, your head leaning off to the side, when the sound of your phone ringing suddenly jolted you awake. you were tempted to ignore it until you saw the contact and begrudgingly pressed the phone to your ear. “hello?” you grumbled.

“i’ve been texting you,” jeno said, sounding miffed.

you sighed, glancing over at the clock on your nightstand. “it’s literally two in the morning,” you complained. “i just got home from cheer practice and i’m trying to study for my last final. i haven’t even showered yet.”

“aw, poor thing,” jeno crooned, pretending to care. “come over.”

you heartless, selfish bastard, you snapped in your head. of course, you were in no place to say that out loud, so you settled for a calm, “okay,” and hung up.

stifling a yawn, you grabbed your keys and lazily stepped into a nearby pair of shoes, stretching your arms above your head before willing yourself to get up from your desk chair. then, you accidentally scraped your leg against the bottom drawer of your desk, which you’d accidentally left open. 

“ow!” you cried out, bending down a little. “god, why does this world hate me? what did i do wrong?”

it was a wonder you managed to make it to jeno’s apartment without getting into a wreck, although at this point, you wouldn’t care if you had as long as it killed you. or put you into an indefinite coma.

on the other hand, jeno seemed strangely enthusiastic to see you and looked full of life and energy. “there you are, cheerleader,” he said, pulling you in to hug you from behind. he led you over to his couch, much like he always did. 

you covered your mouth with your elbow as you yawned. “can we get this over with? i’m sleepy.”

jeno chuckled. “i don’t want you to suck me off. not right now.”

your brows furrowed, wondering if you had heard him right. if not for that, then why were the hell were you here?

“i’m sad,” jeno said, not even attempting to keep the smug smile off his face. “i need you to cheer me up.”

you blinked at him like he was stupid. “cheer… you up?”

jeno nodded his head, glancing you over with a grin. you looked like hell. partly because you were so obviously exhausted, but he knew he’d been having an effect on you too. “yeah, cheer me up. you’re a cheerleader,” he reminded, sounding proud of himself. “i want you to do your routine for me.”

you gawked in disbelief and whined, “i’m not even in my uniform.”

“so?” jeno asked. “those bones might be tired, but they still work. matter of fact, take everything off.”

you were quick to exclaim, “what the hell? jeno, can i please just do it later? everything hurts.”

“take everything off,” jeno repeated, his voice more stern this time. “and move your ass.”

defeated, you reluctantly began to peel off your clothes, ignoring the way jeno shamelessly ogled you for the sake of your own comfort and tugging your shirt from above your head. you couldn’t even look at him as you abashedly stepped out of your shorts and panties.

what was even more mortifying was having to perform every stupid little routine for him with your entire body on display and your chest bouncing with every motion. putting on the sweet, forced smile and calling out the chants you’d memorized, all the while ignoring how your bones ached.

when you were done, he made you sit in his lap so he could touch you as he pleased, paying no mind to the way you squirmed uncomfortably.

you cried enough tears to occupy a sixth ocean the next day. you weren’t exactly sure why. you just remembered miraculously waking up in your bed, sitting up and staring into empty space, and the water crashing down after a few minutes. it took you even longer to notice you were sobbing.

after a couple of meaningless hours, you got the random urge to call your moan, yearning to hear her voice. “mommy?” you said when she picked up.

“she calls,” your mother chirped, pleasantly surprised. “hi, baby. i was starting to wonder if you’d forgotten about little ole’ me. you know, you never come see me anymore.”

you forced yourself to laugh, trying to strip your voice of the agony so that she wouldn’t notice. “i know. i’m sorry,” you apologized quietly. “i’ll come see you soon.”

“you better,” your mother snapped playfully, no real malice in her voice. “now, what’d you call me for? and don’t say just to check up on me, because that’s a damn lie.”

“i miss you,” you confessed. 

“a lie don’t care who tell it.”

“ma,” you groaned, knowing she was just messing around. “i swear i do.”

“mm-hm,” your mother hummed. you could already picture her in your head, eyeing you with suspicion, arms folded over her chest. “let me guess why you really called. you’re having boy trouble.”

your eyes flickered in surprise. how did she know? you doubted it was exactly what she was thinking, but she was close enough. “yeah, something like that.”

there was no doubt that your mother sounded excited. you had always seem thoroughly uninterested in boys and dating, and while she was thankful when you were a teenager, it was a little worrying now. “it’s about time,” she said, clasping her hands together. “tell me all about it.”

you sighed, wondering how you could tell her about jeno without making her fret. she had gotten all pumped, you didn’t want to tear her down and ruin everything. “well, there’s this guy i met almost two months ago. at first, i didn’t feel anything for him. he was just another boy, you know. someone i could keep around for a good time, not a long one.”

your mother hummed again. you could hear metal pans clacking against her counter and assumed she was cooking. she always did that. 

taking a deep breath, you continued, “but everything changed. he’s different from every other guy i’ve dealt with. he doesn’t just do what i say because i say so. and as the weeks passed, he’s started listening to me less and less than he already was.”

your mother chuckled. “and you didn’t like that, huh? got your mother’s stubborn heart and indomitable spirit.”

in truth, you didn’t think you had half of your mother’s strength, but you would never tell her that. as far as she knew, everything was going perfectly in the life you’d created here on campus. and it probably was the last time you’d spoken to her. “yeah,” you replied, wishing that were true. “i don’t like it. he makes me feel something i’ve never felt before.”

“he makes you feel powerless,” your mother told you. “he’s got you feeling weak because he’s the first man you’ve ever met willing to stand up to you. trust me, i was surprised the first time too. that’s how you got here.”

“ma,” you groaned with a wince.

she laughed. the sound made you happy, something you hadn’t been so certain you were capable of feeling anymore. “i’m just keeping it real.”

you thought about her words. she may have been way off in her perception of what this relationship between you and jeno really was, but she wasn’t wrong about how he made you feel. weak, powerless. suddenly, this consuming feeling you’d been having for weeks finally had a name, and yet that made it even harder to come to terms with.

because you didn’t want to be powerless. you wanted to be in charge, in control. you hated when things didn’t go your way, and more importantly, you hated when there was nothing you could do about it. it was supposed to be you wielding power over people’s head, not being crushed beneath the weight of tyranny.

and it was then you fully realized the scope of your feelings; you absolutely hated lee jeno.

▸ cheerleader? breed her! 

standing there in a skimpy dress, face done and your feet clamped in heels that made you four inches taller, you didn’t feel like yourself.

you thought that you would. in truth, you hadn’t feel like yourself in months. today marked a little over two months since you made the mistake of beginning that agreement with jeno and you regretted it more than anything. he had completely ruined you, your life, and everything that made you feel whole.

there were pieces of yourself that you would never get back, thanks to him. it was true that everyone had forgotten about the ordeal regarding the recording of you, but not without cost. it was a price you were still paying everyday; even when you weren’t on your knees or otherwise commiting demeaning acts for the sake of jeno’s entertainment, you were hurting and mourning yourself.

you were starting to wonder if it was worth it. obviously, you liked being respected amongst your fellow students, but you were no longer certain if their respect was worth the price of your sanity. it was hard for you to even have basic interactions without giving away how incredibly lonely and isolated you felt, how trapped and doomed you were. helpless and powerless.

jeno came up behind you, startling you. he was like a wolf and you were a little lamb masquerading as a wolf. “there you are, baby,” he said, snaking his hands around your waist. he seemed to love doing that. “did you know our anniversary was a few days ago?”

you scoffed. the two-month anniversary of the worst decision of your life to date. there was nothing you would’ve give to undo it. doing your homework yourself would have spared you so much unnecessary pain. “stop doing that,” you whined, scanning the party. “someone will see.”

jeno chuckled, clearly not giving a damn. “unlike someone, i don’t really care what people think about me.”

you wished you didn’t care. there would always be a part of you that cared, that was so afraid of what people could say about her that she would do anything to tailor her image perfectly. matter of fact, it was all you had cared about in high school, and every year after that was spent maintaining the brand.

jeno’s hand went from your waist to your ass, making you tense in his grasp. “you know, i think i deserve some kind of compensation for putting up with you for two months.”

you deserved that too. freedom. being unshackled from his cruel, unrelenting orders was the one thing you wanted most and the one thing he refused to give you. “don’t you have your compensation almost every day?” you asked irritably.

“that’s not nearly enough,” jeno insisted, squeezing your ass.

god, how greedy could someone be? it was like he wanted to bleed you dry until there was nothing left.

“you know what i want?” jeno asked huskily, leaning into your ear. “i wanna fuck you.”

your eyes widened a little. you had hoped this day would never come, even though you weren’t oblivious to the fact that jeno had steadily gotten bolder in his interactions with you, the things he made you do for his satisfaction becoming entirely more erotic. 

grabbing your arm, jeno started to lead you away. “come on, let’s go.”

you rooted in place, nearly stumbling. you didn’t want to go anywhere with him, especially if it meant putting up with his insatiable urges. “jeno, i don’t want to,” you said, trying to push at him.

jeno scoffed, wondering when you would realize that he didn’t care what you wanted and you had no way of winning. “if you want to make a scene in front of all these lovely people, be my guest,” he hissed in your ear.

panicked, you glanced around the crowd in search of someone that could save you. it was like everybody was looking at you until you actually needed them to. 

then, you locked eyes with jungwoo. matter of fact, it seemed like he’d been looking at you much before you’d even glanced in his general direction. he saw you, saw the way jeno was holding you roughly, saw the obvious stiffness on your face, saw the pleading look in your eyes; but ultimately, jungwoo saw the image of you letting him down after bleeding him dry for half a year, and he turned away.

your shoulders slumped in defeat.

jeno started dragging you toward the stairs, pushing past a bunch of drunk people dancing on each other. your heart was thumping, and your whole body was rigid with nerves as you tried to think of a way out of this even though you knew there was no option without consequences.

just your luck, the bathroom jeno hauled you too was empty. he pushed you in and locked the door, pressing you against the counter. you gasped and glanced at your reflection in the mirror, hardly recognizing yourself. “jeno, please,” you whispered, trying to plead with him. “please, don’t do this.”

jeno didn’t seem moved by your begging, but he did, however, appear amused. “why are you acting so sensitive about this after all we’ve done together? it’s like you’ve never gotten fucked or something.”

you swallowed, not saying a word. 

the silence was very loud, very telling. jeno arched a brow, a realization dawning on him. “you really have never been fucked,” he said, surprised. “damn, i should have figured that out when you were acting like you never sucked dick before.”

your face flushed with heat. it wasn’t like you were necessarily embarrassed about it, not until now. you had always taken it as something to pride yourself on, being fuckable but untouchable. “you say that like it’s a bad thing,” you replied, glancing down at the sink to avoid eye contact.

jeno chuckled. it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but he had been convinced that you were completely pretending to be a goody two-shoes. to know there was at least one percent of you that was still pure amazed him. he lifted the skirt of your dress with his hand and brought it between your legs, asking, “what, you just never find anyone worthy enough for your perfect, sacred pussy?”

you gasped out when he touched you there. his fingers circled your clothed cunt, thumb digging into your inner thigh. feeling scandalized, you grumbled, “maybe i’m just not interested.”

jeno shook his head, astonished by the amount of attitude you still had after all these months and determined to break it out of you. “and maybe i just don’t care if you’re interested or not.”

it went without saying that jeno always made you feel like some kind of object, but this was next level. “this is dehumanizing!” you exclaimed. 

hearing you, of all people, talk about dehumanizing made for an interesting conversation. big, calloused hand pressing harder into you, he asked tauntingly, “doesn’t feel good, does it?”

your glossy, painted lips were parted, unable to breathe through your nose. your eyes burned with the threat of tears and it was becoming second nature for them to shed whenever jeno was nearby. “i don’t understand,” you whimpered, trying to free yourself, but to no avail. “why are you doing this to me? what have i ever done to deserve this?”

jeno could feel you struggling, trying to push him off you, but all it did was move your hips against his rapidly hardening cock. he groaned, grabbing hold of your ass and pushing you further back against him. “fuck, just like that,” he growled. “haven’t i told you this already? this is bigger than you and me.”

it wasn’t lost on you that jeno obviously had heard stories about you from other people, stories of happenings you probably couldn’t deny, but it had nothing to do with him. “look, if you’re doing all this to get back at me because i hurt one of your friends or something, i’m sorry, i really am. but i can’t do this anymore, jeno. i want to stop, please. please let me go on with my life.”

“what a privileged response,” jeno hissed without concealing his vitriol. at the same time, he kept palming you over your panties, noticing them beginning to cling to your cunt, and tore your underwear to the side to insert a pair of fingers inside. “what about all those girls whose lives you ruined? i’m sure they wanted you to stop. and you didn’t until they were too humiliated to show their faces around here again and you had no choice.”

you swallowed the lump in your throat. he knew about the girls? “jeno, i haven’t done that since freshman year,” you told him, desperately trying to reason with him.

two loud, harsh smacks echoed in the tiny, crowded space of the bathroom, followed by a gasp consequently. your pussy stung, your head jerking around to look at jeno. “do you really think that matters?” he asked, grabbing your hair to turn you back around just as quickly, as if you didn’t deserve to look at him. “you think that matters when the pain you’ve done to them is permanent? they don’t forget. and they damn sure don’t forgive you.”

you tensed, hating the way your walls were gripping and gushing around his fingers. “so what? you think you’re god or something? is this you punishing me for my sins? you’re not exactly what i would call a saint, either.”

“me and you, we’re not the same,” jeno remarked, a nip to his tone as if you needed the reminder of how much he disliked you. “you only pick on people that you think are below you somehow. people you think won’t fight back.”

“i know i’m not a good person,” you admitted in between gasps, thighs straining as his fingers pumped into your pussy harder, faster, reaching places you’d never touched on your own. “ i know i don’t deserve to be happy. maybe i don’t even deserve to be treated with respect, but please leave me this one thing. spare me just this once.”

jeno laughed cruelly, pulling his fingers out of your drenched hole and smearing your juices all over your folds and thighs. his finger unintentionally swiped over your sensitive clit, making your legs quiver and your stomach tighten, sucking in itself.

“damn, baby. you really know how to hurt my feelings,” jeno said, voice dripping with sarcasm. he withdrew his fingers, bringing them into his mouth for a taste. “you don’t want me to fuck you that bad?”

your heart was spiking with dread, thumping belligerently in your chest, your ears, and between your legs. no one had ever made you feel so vanquished.

“take my dick out,” jeno said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “hurry up.”

you sighed anguishedly, turning around to undo his pants and slip his aching dick out of its confinements. for months, jeno had been suppressing the urge to fuck you, wanting to wait for the moment where it would be most pivotal.

getting a hold of your throat, jeno roughly yanked you flush against him the second you whirled back around to face the tiny bathroom counter, making you stand tall against his chest. his voice was almost as rough as the hands that held you. “put it in.”

you gawked, shaking your head.

his fingers tightened dangerously around your windpipe, making your damp eyes widen and your jaw slack against his whitening knuckles, maybe half a wheeze making its way out your throat before he warned, “if i have to fucking tell you again, i’m gonna crush every bone in your goddamn neck.”

with no other option, you meekly reached behind you to grasp him in your quivering hand, aimlessly steering him to your hole and sinking your teeth into your bottom lip as the tip brushed past your dripping folds. jeno released a shaky breath, slapping your hand away and rutting his hips into you from behind, sheathing himself inside in one go.

he slackened his unforgiving grip on your throat, shoving you back against the counter none too gently, but you still felt like you couldn’t breathe when he entered you, a mangled whimper echoing out. your fingers desperately braced the edges of the counter for purchase as you tried to will yourself to inhale, but it was like you were choking.

jeno had a death grip on your thighs, forcibly pushing them apart a little more as he coated himself with the creamy, hot wetness of your unwanted arousal. “mm, hard to believe you don’t secretly want me when you’re sucking me in like this, baby,” he said, proud.

you shook your head in denial, face flushing with a heat that spread to your ears and neck. it didn’t help that there were beads of salty, hot tears pouring down your face and reducing your vision to one big, hazy blur. you didn’t want him, not even a little bit. but you couldn’t control the way your body was responding.

the lewd, wet smack of his cock thrusting deeply into your tight cunt rang out so loudly that you wanted nothing more than to hide into oblivion and never be seen again, mortified. it made things seem so much different than they were. his long, thick cock was stretching you beyond the cusp your limits and making you gape.

“i’m so nice to you,” jeno said, tipping his head back. you could see his chest rising and falling through his clothes, his body taut with pleasure and excitement. “i’ve been holding back for so long, trying not to fuck you. won’t keep me out this pussy now. i’m gonna fuck you till your legs give out. have you at practice limping.”

your knees, wobbly as they already were, began knocking into the cabinets at the bottom of the sink. you winced your eyes closed as your fingers curled around the edge of the counter roughly enough to change the color around your knuckles, hoping to think of something, anything, to take you out of the moment.

but it was too hard. you couldn’t ignore the throb of your gushing walls as they kneaded his cock, making him grunt in your ear as he leaned over your backside. you couldn’t ignore the faint sting of his nails stabbing your hips and his heavy palm slapping repeatedly against your ass. and you definitely couldn’t ignore the dirtiness staining you from head to toe.

sure, it felt good, his body rocking against yours steadily, but it didn’t feel right. many nights you had pictured what losing your virginity would be like, both the way that it was supposed to look and the way that you were more inclined to, but this was neither; it was heartless, it was punishing, and it was brutal.

jeno grabbed you by your hair and forced you to look into the mirror, yanking your head up. “there it is,” he spat, words sounding painfully familiar. “there’s the real you.”

your hair was messy from him tugging it every which way, treating you like a doll to mishandle. your makeup was ruined from your sobbing, the path of your tears harsh against everything else. your eyes were red and your right lash looked like it was barely holding on, the effect of rubbing at your face.

jeno watched you take in the destroyed sight of yourself, practically hearing the critical thoughts hopping in your mind. “this is what you really are. this is what you’re sucking my dick to keep hidden from the world. is it worth it, baby? or do you just like the way i taste on your tongue?”

no, it wasn’t worth it. you were beginning to understand that now. he was taking too much from you, too much of your peace and too much of your sanity. maybe it would be better to be judged and lonely but free than to be loved by people whose opinion of you could change on a dime anyway at the expense of your soul. 

your pride had been buried a long time ago, brutally murdered in her sleep. “jeno, please stop. i’m uncomfortable,” you complained, tearing your eyes away from your reflection in shame.

jeno smacked your ass again, making you cry out sharply. “you just love being the victim when it’s convenient for you, huh?”

“i’m sorry!” you whimpered. “i don’t know what you want me to do. what do you want? just tell me.”

jeno snickered, running his hands over your hips and waist to knead the flesh. then, he brushed your hair out of your face, nibbling at the skin behind your ear before growling, “you know what i want, cheerleader? i want to assassinate all there is that you love about yourself and leave everything else untouched, so that you understand not why everybody hates you, but why nobody loves you.”

those words hit you straight in the gut. for the first time, you had no retort, no comeback. 

hips beginning to move faster, jeno continued, “the boys don’t love you, they just want to fuck you. they would kill to be as deep inside you as i am. the girls sure as hell don’t love you. they either want to be you, or they resent you for beating their asses. and don’t get me started on those girls you call friends.”

“jeno, stop,” you whispered, an agony vicious enough to rip through flesh tearing you straight in half. 

but jeno didn’t listen. he wasn’t done, not until he made his point. “don’t think i didn’t notice how lonely you were for the whole week everybody was talking shit about you. they didn’t want to touch you with a six foot pole, did they? they don’t want to be seen with you unless it gives them a good rep.”

there was a pang in your chest. you didn’t want to admit it, but that cut deep. you had heard people say mean things about you before, it was to expected when you were an emblem of popularity on campus, but few things had reached you where it hurt.

jeno stroked your messy cheek, almost with affection. “but it’s okay. because you want to know something, baby? it was hard for me to admit it to myself, but you truly fascinate me. i can’t get you out of my head sometimes. you piss me off every time without fail, but i keep coming back to you. i like you, baby. if no one else does. you grew on me.”

you weren’t sure if that was supposed to make you feel better, but it didn’t. if anything, you only felt more heartbroken and wounded not only by his words, but by your inability to counter them. it truly dawned on you, right then, just how alone you were.

jeno threw his head back, grunting. his hips were moving with a mind of their own, eager to finish. “fuck, i’m gonna come.”

your eyes went wide in panic, remembering that he had gone in bareback. 

“jeno, don’t…”

before you could even finish your statement, jeno clamped a hand over your mouth, muffling your protests into his pale palm. “you know what guys at my school used to say about cheerleaders?” he asked, obviously not expecting a response. “‘see a cheerleader, breed a cheerleader.’ ‘cheerleader? breed her.’”

you thrashed, but it was pointless. those thick, burly biceps of jeno’s were one of the first things you noticed about him and they weren’t just for display. he held you in place as he quickened his pace again, his thrusts unrelenting.

with a couple more quick yet shockingly rhythmic thrusts, jeno emptied his load deep, deep inside you. he moaned, moving his hands from your mouth to your hips to keep himself steady as he reeled from the pleasure of a mind-numbing orgasm. “goddamn,” he cursed, panting for breath.

you stifled a small noise as you felt his warmth flooding into you, unsure how to feel at this point. 

to your surprise, jeno started fucking you again, never once daring to pull out as if he was determined to fuck every drop of his sticky cum as deep inside you as it could reach. his stringy, thick load gathered on his dick and inside your pussy, leaking down your thighs as he kept going.

you gasped out, moans involuntarily leaving you as you were stuffed full of him over and over. you didn’t mean to, but it was impossible to control.

then, jeno stuck a hand between your legs and rolled his thumb over your clit, which didn’t help. you cried out, tensing. “jeno, stop! it’s sensitive.”

“that’s the point, dummy,” jeno replied, stimulating your clit with his hand while simultaneously pumping himself into you from behind.

your core tightened, heat wafting over you as your chest heaved wildly. “what are you doing?” you stammered. 

jeno smiled, watching in the mirror how your face tensed with a blend of confusion and ecstasy that you couldn’t rein. “you really think i’m an asshole, huh? i’m trying to make you come. relax and let me.”

you shook your head. you didn’t want to come, not for him, and most definitely not on his cock for him to feel every unintentional shudder of your pussy as it gushed and pulsed with hot, sweet release; that would be embarrassing.

that made jeno chuckle. “no? you don’t wanna come for me, baby?” he asked, furrowing his brows playfully as he tilted your face back up to the mirror with a push of your jaw. “come on, let go. you keep saying i’m not a good guy, but you shoot me down when i try to be nice.”

you moaned again, against your own reason and better judgment. “please,” you rasped with half a breath.

“please, what?” jeno asked, rubbing you with just a pinch more force. “do you even know?”

god, you hated him; you absolutely despised him. but damn, if it didn’t feel good to have someone touch you after you’d spent so long avoiding sex like it was something to be ashamed of.

and this? this was definitely something you were ashamed of.

and yet the most shameful moment, perhaps, was when you finally couldn’t resist the pleasure of his big, long fingers twirling around your sensitive nub and his brutal hips smacking into you with a vengeance, clamping around him as you orgasmed with a loud cry and the heat shot through every corner of your body.

“shit,” jeno hissed, the feel of you finishing around him draining the cum from his balls for a second time.

your jaw slacked, overwhelmed by how you felt completely and utterly stuffed, ropes of his cum filling you to the hilt. jeno thrusted into you a little more, sending a flare through your back and shoulders, until he stilled for good. you could hear him panting behind you.

after a moment or two, jeno pulled out. hand between your thighs, he gathered some of his stringy release on his finger and brought it up to your lips. “open up. don’t make me say it again.”

you opened your mouth wide enough for him to insert two of his cum-coated fingers inside. then, you sucked at them and swallowed it down, knowing those would be the next words to leave his mouth. 

jeno raised a brow, pleasantly surprised. he took his time to withdraw his fingers, enjoying the sensation of you licking them clean. “see, i knew you loved eating my cum.”

your face burned, but you didn’t have the energy to deny it. not after that. it felt like there was a gaping hole in your chest, a void that would never be filled. 

“you’re learning,” jeno commented, humming in satisfaction. “good girl. you know, maybe one day we can get along. don’t you think?”

“yeah,” you murmured weakly. at this point, you would just go along with whatever he said. and maybe that was why he figured you could experience some peace together now.

keeping your dress bunched up, jeno grabbed some tissues from his left and started to wipe at you. “let’s get you cleaned up before we leave, cheerleader. don’t want the entire student body to see you like this, right?”

you whipped your head around, eyes widening in surprise. leaving to go where? certainly you weren’t going home with him after tonight. 

“did you think i was kidding?” jeno asked with a sly smile, slipping your panties backing in place and giving your shoulder a fleeting kiss. “i told you, i’m gonna fuck you till your legs give out.”

[monstersflashlight]

Christmas special: Santa is coming tonight

A/N: Merry Christmas to everyone celebrating! Hope Santa was good with his presents… As good as he is in this story. Here I describe Santa as something akin to a demon, and has magic, just to make it make a bit more sense. Enjoy!

Santa (monster) x fem!reader || (very light) dom/sub, (light) marking, oral sex, breeding, size kink, mentions of body modification, magic sex (?)

When you started dating Santa, you expected a lot of things, but him being an absolute himbo wasn’t one of them.

He wasn’t only a himbo, but also incredibly clumsy, to the point that on your first date he accidentally tripped and send your food (and his) to the ground. Along with the broken pieces of the table and the chair he fell onto. Having incredible strength and a body as big as a wall is not great when you have no control over them, apparently.

He was so lucky the elves had everything controlled and he only needed to show up on the big day and do the things… He wouldn't be able to do shit if it was all his responsibility. And well, you didn’t mind it. You didn’t mind it at all. It made you hot all over that he was so incredibly stupid, but also so incredibly hot.

He was pretty clear since the begging that he was in for all, that he not only wanted to date you, but he wanted to marry you and turn you into a magical being just as he was. So who could have blamed you for running away? That was insane to say to somebody you barely knew.

But you should have known better. He was magic after all…

Also, his dick was so good you could accept everything he said if he asked while he was buried deep inside. You were a simple girl after all: he gave you a good (incredible, fantastic, phenomenal… and all the good adjectives possible) dicking, and you accepted his marriage proposal. It was a good pact, you got good dick and a loving husband, and he got a wife to adore. Perfect combination.

And what you loved most about him… what how crazy he got after Christmas Night.

It was like all the adrenaline and magic high made his body bigger, stronger, harder… And he used it to his advantage, and you… you enjoyed it more than anything.

And this year wasn’t different.

He came home to find you in your prettiest, skimpiest lingerie, the one you made the elves made for you and hugged your curves in the best way possible. In a way that made your boobs stand to attention as your body tingled with anticipation when the siren alerting everyone of his arrival started ringing.

He walked into your room with his face sweaty, his red suit half undone and looking so hot you were salivating. It only took one look at you in your flimsy clothes for him to turn into the demon he was inside. He growled, his fangs elongating and his skin turning the prettiest pattern of red and white. He looked a bit like a candy cane when he got aroused, and weirdly enough, you dig it.

You stared at him as he crossed the room in less than three steps, grabbing you by the hips and hoisting you up until your legs were wrapped around his middle and his hands were groping your ass. He devoured your mouth like a starving man, grunting and scratching your lips with the force of the kiss.

His hands were all over, probing and pinching, groping and caressing until you were a mess of moans and groans on his arms and you could feel his big… Christmas present pressing against your ass. His hand found your pussy over the lace, rubbing against your needy clit, praising you about how wet you were for him already.

He was kissing your neck when he whispered: “You’ve been so good, Santa is coming twice tonight”.

You stared at his bearded face and extended canines, dumbfounded by the stupidest line he ever said to you. And then you busted out laughing. “You did- you did not say that,” you let out, still laughing. To the point where your eyes were teary and your face was probably as red as he was.

“What?” He asked, completely confused at the change in the mood.

That made your amusement die down a bit, only chuckling as you explained. “Honey, I love you dearly, but you can’t say shit like that when you are touching my pussy, it throws the whole mood off.” He looked like a kicked puppy and you couldn’t have that. You hated when he looked like that.

You pulled him down by his hair, making him groan when you claimed his mouth in a possessive kiss, trying to make everything better. He grunted against your lips, and bite down on your lower lip, drawing a bit of blood. That always drove him crazy, and this time wasn’t different.

He pulled back and roared, pushing you back to the mattress and ripping your clothes off, snapping his fingers to make his own suit disappear. (You asked once why he didn’t do that with your clothes and he simply said he liked to rip them out, and you couldn’t argue with that logic).

A blink later, you were laying on the bed, your legs pushed far apart as he drove for your pussy with hunger. He licked and sucked until you were chanting his name, just to push two of his too big fingers inside your tight hole. It was too much, too soon, but it felt so great you couldn’t stop moaning. He grunted against your vulnerable flesh when you started moving your hips, using his nose and his mouth as you pleased, your fingers pulling at his hair in a way that you knew turned him on.

“Just like that, use me for your pleasure, make yourself come, my love,” he whispered inside your head, his voice reverberating inside your brain and making you let out a startled noise. He pulled back for a second, smirking at you with his fangs out before pushing a third and fourth finger inside your pussy.

“Santa, fuck. Klaus!” You screamed as your orgasm took you by surprise, rushing over you like a tidal wave as he rode it with you.

When you came back to your senses, he was over you, holding his weight on his hands, caging your body against the mattress and making you want to bite down on his hard muscles. You did, because you could, causing him to curse and push forward, the tip of his huge dick breaching your already stretched hole.

He cursed some more as he took his time bottoming out. You never got used to how big he was, how wide he stretched you and how deep you could feel him. You knew he must use some kind of magic, because there was no way your human body could take that much dick without permanent damage, but he never said so, and you like it that way. You liked that he used magic on you, that he made your pussy so perfect for himself it drove him crazy every time you two fucked.

He gave you a couple minutes to adjust, breathing hard over you, kissing every piece of skin he could reach until you were giggling and rolling your hips, urging him to move.

And good goddess did he move.

He set a punishing pace, treating you like the naughtiest of girls as he fucked you into oblivion. He moved your legs over his shoulders, fucking you deeper and harder as his thumb found your clit. He pressed down with his palm at the same time he pushed up his dick, the pressure was so intense and so pleasurable you couldn’t hold back a second orgasm, closing your eyes and arching your back as you came messily around his dick.

“Fuck,” he roared. His head thrown back, his white hair hanging over his shoulders and making him look almost ethereal as the tendons in his neck tensed and he let out the loudest cry of pleasure known to man. You bet every part of the North Pole heard him, but you didn’t care at all because he wasn’t stopping.

He fucked you full until you felt his release gushing around his dick. With each thrust you could feel the mixture of juices coming out around his length. It was filthy, it was exhilarating, and it sent you over the edge once again.

He pressed his chest again your back and asked: “I told you I was coming twice, didn’t I?” You groaned and he turned you into your front, fucking you from behind. “By the time the night is over, you are going to get more than one present from Santa,” he promised.

If you weren’t dumb with pleasure and post-orgasm bliss, you might have laughed again, but your brain was too empty to process his words. You could only process the way his hips were bouncing against your ass cheeks, the clap clap sound sending you into oblivion.

Your arms and legs couldn’t hold your weight any longer, so you were flat against the mattress as he rutted his hips against your stretched hole. You could hear the way his come was leaking out as he fucked it back in. It was filthy in the best possible way and your body was reacting to it.

You were so close to another orgasm, your body trembling. And when he pulled you up by your hips, the angle hit you in the best way possible, his dick rubbing against your G-spot as he pounded your pussy until you were drooling over the sheets in pleasure and he was chanting your name like a prayer.

You screamed his name until you were hoarse, and he kept fucking you. He fucked two more orgasms out of you, your body sagging against him, trusting him to take care of every part of you as he pounded into your welcoming heat over and over.

“I’m going to fuck you until you don’t know your own name,” he grunted, accelerating his pace until his hips were barely a blur and your body was trembling with the force of his thrusts. It was the best experience of your life. “Your pussy is so greedy, it won’t stop swallowing me in, clenching over my length… How eager,” his words weren’t even for you, he was talking to himself, but it made your eyes roll back into your head as you orgasmed again, whispering his name because your throat was too sore to scream anymore.

Your orgasm sent him over the edge, and he pushed all his weight over you as he came and came and came. He filled you until you couldn’t hold it in anymore, his come dripping around his shaft inside of you, making a mess of your pussy and the sheets. But you didn’t care. You couldn’t care. You only had thoughts about how good it felt, how full you were and how fucking much you loved every second of it.

And how you couldn’t wait till next year to do it again.

[cherrygirlfriend]

is it new years yet? pairing: reader x neighbor!rafe synopsis: seeing your old neighbor on christmas during your break leads to you going down memory lane - and into each other's pants. warnings: smut, spit play, degradation, piv, unprotected sex, MDNI wc: 2.4k inspired by 'is it new years yet?' by sabrina carpenter and me being the only one single in my family during christmas. fun fact; i wrote half of this while celebrating christmas with my family and the other half on my way home. enjoy!

everything in life comes with pros and cons; the same applies to being the youngest in your family.

your two sisters and your brother all came to christmas with their significant others; you came with the hangover you were nursing from going out for drinks with some of your high school friends.

your oldest sister just had her first child. your other sister had just gotten married, and your brother brought his girlfriend of two years, that he was planning on proposing to.

you? the closest thing you'd come to something even resembling a relationship was a fling with a guy who ended up ghosting you after telling you he loved you. and although your new nephew was adorable, everyone around you being in relationships made you feel utterly alone.

as mariah carey's 'all i want for christmas is you' played in the speakers for the fifth time that night and you were served another slice of the mediocre fruitcake, you felt like taking the knife set down in front of you and making your eye socket it's new home, the urge only worsened by the words your eldest sister uttered.

"so, do you have a boyfriend?" she asked in a sing-songy voice, looking at you with an inquisitive look on her face, and you knew the comment was meant to be goodhearted, but all it managed to do was make you irritated; your relatives always knew what to say to piss you off.

you swallowed the remaining food in your mouth, "nope."

"what do you mean? you're gorgeous. there's gotta be someone who's into you!" your other sister exclaimed, rubbing salt in the wound. all you wanted was to forget that you were the only one at home with no one to hold. you just wished it was new years already.

your family didn't even notice when you slipped away from them to the patio that wrapped around your large house, hanging your head and your upper body over the railing, your hair dangling in the air as you let out a long breath that you'd held the entire time you'd spent in your family's company, feeling the blood rush to your head as you stared at your legs through the wide holes in the railing.

"you know that could kill you, right?"

you heard a smug voice say, one that was eerily familiar, and your suspicions over who it belonged to were confirmed when you lifted yourself up, your hair flipping and your eyes landing on none other than rafe cameron.

rafe cameron. a name that you never wished to even have to think about, a face you never wanted to have to look at. he had been your neighbor your entire life up until you moved for college, and he'd always enjoyed making your life hell.

"for that, i'm pretty sure i'd have to hang here for longer than fifteen seconds, but thanks for the unwanted medical advice, cameron. why are you creeping around our backyard?"

"aw, you didn't miss me?" he said with feigned sympathy as he slowly ascended the steps leading onto the porch, a small pout on his face.

"what's there to miss? you being a dick?"

rafe tutted, looking at you with a predatory gleam in his eyes, "see, the last time things were about my dick, you didn't seem that hostile."

...oh.

"that was a mistake." you said, trying your best not to make your voice shake, rolling your shoulders back and straightening your spine to try and seem confident, but he simply chuckled.

"you seem to make a lot of mistakes."

as he said those words, you couldn't help but let your mind wander to all the times you'd let him pin you against the wall of a small, skeevy janitor's closet that smelled of clorox and your mingling hormones, or the way he'd made you plead and beg before he'd let you come undone, coating his fingers in your creamy liquids.

but it felt like a bucket of ice water had been thrown over your head when those memories blended with ones where he'd said such cruel words about you, and then saying the same things in private, in such a different way.

"god, you're such a slut." he'd scoff, shaking his head as he looked from topper to kelce, both boys laughing at his words.

"god, you're such a slut..." he'd whisper against your skin as his long digits hit the spongy spot deep inside you, "such a good little slut f'me..."

you cleared your throat, your hand traveling to fiddle with the pearl earring in your ear, rolling it around between your thumb and your forefinger to try and not to focus on the way you had to shift from one foot to another, not wanting the wetness that was beginning to gather between your legs to stick your panties to your pussy. "what are you doing here, cameron?"

"i heard you were back in town. wanted to come see you."

his words made you roll your eyes, "last time i checked, we weren't exactly friends, cameron."

your eyes widened when his hand slid behind your back and he pulled your body flush to his, your heart hammering against your chest like someone was doing renovation inside your body. you didn't want to have these reactions for the man, but your body was betraying you.

"and last time i checked, the nickname you liked to use for me wasn't cameron."

"i'm never using that name for you again." you said, trying not to let your voice waver, to stay strong in what you knew to be the best thing for you to do, to not show how much you wanted him to ruin you in the way you hadn't been ruined in so long.

"i bet i could make you." rafe's lips were so close to yours that you could feel the breaths he let out as he whispered those words.

"bet you-"

before you could finish your sentence, the hot lips you used to know so well were once again on yours, and just like all those times, you gave into it, gave into him way too easily, your lips parting almost automatically to allow rafe's tongue into your mouth.

rafe pushed you against the wall, his hand creeping down from your waist to under the hem of your skirt, his fingers traveling up your thigh painfully slowly, your body so attuned to his it's like you can feel every small ridge, as well as the bones and veins of his fingers. he always loved taking his time, loved making you suffer, loved making you feel like you were going to explode if you didn't have him right at that moment.

"i've missed this so much..." rafe mumbled as his lips moved from your lips, slowly meeting your neck, the small nips he left behind causing your breath to hitch, his other hand groping your tit through your bra, and it reminded you of all the times he'd treat you like shit in front of others, only to pull you into a dark corner and manhandle you, and how much you loved it.

you arched into rafe's touch as his fingers teased the edge of your panties, and when his fingers only brushed against the wet spot in your panties, you let out a small whine, and you knew he was thriving from how easy it was for him to make you come undone.

"tell me you want me..." he mumbled against your neck as his hand started circling your clit through your panties, making them cling to your panties.

it was the last thing you wanted to say; but your vocal chords disagreed with you. it was like the warm feeling in your stomach was controlling everything you did, everything you felt, everything you thought.

"i want you..." you managed to breathe out, the man adding pressure onto his finger as he continued rolling your clit.

"say it."

"i wa-"

"not that." rafe delivered a sharp smack to your pussy and you gasped at the small squelching noise it'd caused, "call me what you used to call me."

"rafe..."

he brought the same hand that had slapped your pussy, and slapped your cheek, making you wince. it wasn't hard, but rafe always knew how to push your buttons. rafe grabbed your jaw, making you look up at him.

"say it."

"s-sir..." you whispered, your cheeks burning with shame, and you were overtaken with thoughts of all the things he had done to get you to call you that, but rafes lips twisted into a wicked grin.

"awww, such a good little slut." he cooed mockingly, "open your mouth." hesitantly, you opened your mouth further, rafe gathering some saliva onto his lips before he spit it into your mouth, enjoying the look of pure humiliation on your face as he watched you swallow it. "pull up your skirt."

you pulled up your skirt, your face still burning hot from humiliation as you looked up, wanting to look anywhere but at him, feeling rafe's long fingers on the waistband of your panties, the fabric starting to detach from your folds, rafe's breathing getting heavier.

you were attacked by sensations when rafe's lips ravenously attached themselves to your cunt, your head throwing back in pleasure as he basically made out with your sopping wet folds, your hand going to his buzzcut, reminding you of the way you used to grip onto the douchey haircut he used to have, on a boy who didn't look quite as defined as the man currently devouring you.

when you felt his tongue circling your entrance, dipping in and out of you teasingly, your walls started clenching around nothing, the world around you might as well have disappeared and turned into heaven. rafe detached himself from your pussy, and as you looked down at him drowsily, rafe's pupils were dilated, his lips covered in your arousal, the man looking like he'd gotten drunk just from tasting you.

"i missed my girl..." rafe murmured, pressing gentle kisses on your pussy, "she still gets so fucking wet f'me... she probably misses my cock so bad... you probably haven't found anyone who fills my princess up like i do, have you?"

"n-no..." you stuttered, making rafe tsk.

"that won't work. she gotta remember who her daddy is."

rafe lifted you up by the back of your thighs, causing you to let out a small squeal as your arms flew to hold on to the back of his neck, only for him to turn around, taking a few steps and placing you onto the edge of the railing, starting to unbuckle his belt.

"rafe, we're on my patio..."

"so?" he chuckled, his hands on his zipper, "it's not like outside of your house is the most scandalous place where we've had fun, is it?"

your cheeks started warming up when you remembered all the places where rafe had managed to get you to give in to him, where you'd begged for him to touch you in the way only he knew how to.

rafe pulled his trousers down, his cock bulging in his calvin kleins, a small wet spot visible on the white fabric until he tugged his boxers down just enough to free his cock, giving it slow, languid strokes. "tell me how you've much you want me inside of you..."

as you looked down at his cock, your tongue between your teeth, you felt hunger like never before; you couldn't care that you were outside your house and anyone could walk in at any moment, or that rafe was an asshole, the only thing you cared about was the way his cock felt inside you, the way it reached something in you no one else managed to, the thing you'd spent various nights trying to mimic with your rabbit toy, to no avail.

"so bad..." you choke out, and although it was the god-honest truth, it felt like the words were razorblades coming up your throat, only made better by the feeling the tip of rafe's cock rubbing on your clit, the man drawing circles on it like he was creating a masterpiece instead of just teasing the hell out of you. "please..."

he slid his length down your plump folds, making you held your breath as you waited to feel him invade you, only for rafe to stop at your entrance. if you were able to even think at that moment, you would've simply pulled him closer to you, but with rafe, he always held all the cards. he knew how to control you.

but the moment you felt only the head of his cock enter you, your vision was blurred. one of rafe's hands moved to grab the flesh of your ass while the other one still held you up. as he starts moving further into you, you let out a mewl that was meant to be his name but ended up being incomprehensible. it was like he was fucking made for you, like his cock was shaped just to fit inside you like a puzzle.

"my baby's still so fuckin' tight..." rafe rasped, and what started as a calm pace turned into him slamming all of himself into you, and if he didn't keep moving inside of you, you could've sworn you died the moment the head of his cock was slammed against your cervix.

"still such a good little slut f'me, hm?"

you rolled your hips against his, every thrust feeling more and more delicious; and like always, you forgot everything. you forgot who you were, where you were, what this was. none of it mattered. nothing, but him.

rafe's thumb moved to circle your clit as he continued rolling his hips into you, timing every slam to your cervix with a roll of your clit, making you ascend. he knew you, and he knew just what to do to make you weak, to make you his.

you tried to tell him you were close, that you were coming, but all that'd leave your lips were incomprehensible moans.

rafe moaned when he felt your walls tightening, pulsing around his cock, a sound so delicious you wished you could've recorded so you could touch yourself to it, yet he continued his movements in you, only now much slower and with much more groaning due to the muscles clenching around him.

"g'na come in you..." rafe mumbled against your shoulder, and you squealed and nearly screamed, when the head of his cock pressed against your cervix mid-orgasm. "f-fuck, you still feel so fucking good..."

he stilled inside of you, pulling your body even closer to his, letting out a groan, and although you couldn't feel it due to the intensity of your orgasm, you knew rafe had just delivered on his promise.

[henry7931]

Chase:

Today is a really weird day and I didn’t know how I would feel about coming over to my best friend Bryce’s house especially after the incident.

Bryce and I have been friends for over 12 years now and him and I have always been a couple of scrawny gay nerds. We both love Minecraft legend of Zelda, just about every video game you can think of and one way we really bonded was figuring out that we are both gay.

Now for years, I’ve always known that Bryce had a crush on me. For me it was never that I didn’t like Bryce or I was never interested, but I never wanted to ruin the friendship. But then you have Walker is older brother. Walker is a few years older than us. He’s super handsome, athletic, charming, he could basically date anyone he laid his eyes on.

The truth is Walker was my sexual awakening for years. I’ve stayed at their house and spent the night and it wouldn’t be uncommon to see Walker come out and nothing but basketball shorts hell I don’t even think he would wear underwear sometimes.

I can remember the way seeing him made me blush, and I tried my hardest not to stare at him. I don’t know if Walker could tell that I was checking him out. Or maybe Walker was just used to people checking him out shouldn’t be any surprise that his little brother‘s gay friend had his eyes glued to him.

And somehow he continues to keep getting hotter and hotter and hotter…

So several weeks ago, Bryce and Walker’s family went on vacation to some tropical island. And something very strange happened while touring an old temple. How Bryce explained it to me was that they had a sign up that specifically said, “ please do not touch artifact.”

Bryce can be such a stickler for rules and I can almost see it in my head. It all went down. Bryce told Walker not to touch it. Walker likes to get on Bryce‘s nerves Walker reaches for it and then shit got real quick. Because Walker and Bryce have now switched bodies.

When Bryce was explaining all this to me, I really thought it was bullshit. I mean, who would believe that that sounds like something from a movie and yet even hearing Walker‘s voice, I can tell just by the tone that it’s Bryce.

So today is the first day that I have seen Bryce since he swapped bodies with Walker. And that’s why I feel all kinds of weird.

Now Bryce and I have stayed with each other like 1 million times and it’s really not unusual for us to be basically naked around each other. OK maybe not completely naked but like at least in her underwear.

And I have tried really, really hard to make him feel comfortable and I think I’m doing a really good job but having him standing in front of me in just his brother’s boxers is driving me a bit insane.

I’m sitting on Bryce‘s bed and walks back into his room just to ask me if I wanted anything from downstairs like something to drink or maybe a snack. I can barely get out the words because I can’t stop staring at the chiseled God in front of me.

“ chase you’re staying the night right?,” he asked me.

“ oh yeah, of course I’m staying the night as long as that’s OK.”

“ yeah man of course it’s okay! You know it’s okay man. No one cares you stay the night. You’re like basically family sides. My brother isn’t going to be home tonight. He’s wanted a lot of space since the whole. I’ve got his body thing. And both my parents are out of town so it’s just gonna be us,” he says with a side smirk.

“ well if it’s just us what do you wanna get into tonight?,” I say trying to make conversation.

I’m holding my eye contact directly at his face and I try my hardest not to look anywhere else, but he takes his hand and start scratching his balls and I can almost feel my whole cock twitch.

“ I mean since everybody’s not here tonight, we can always break into my parents liquor cabinet, whoop whoop!”

You know I am probably the most innocent 18 year-old alive, I don’t wanna attend parties nor do I really sneak around my parents but I feel like alcohol sounds like a great idea right now. I mean it I might be able to calm down a bit.

“Hell yeah! That’s sounds fun!,” I say with some enthusiasm.

“Bet! Be right back!”

I hear as heavy feet running down the stairs and all I can do is try to think of something that would totally turn me off like anything taxes, my grandparents, just something…

And yet all I can think about is how hot it would be if I could suck on his toes. I’ve had a thing for feet a while now and it’s taking me a little bit to accept it and a part of that I blame Walker for him because he has some sexy ass feet.

I can remember clearly the smell of his feet after he would finish football practice and he would pull off his shoes. Shit! Fuck! I’m so hard right now. I feel like I’m gonna have to sneak away and beat one out in the bathroom just to clear my head.

And then here comes Bryce with two glasses in his hand and a bottle of wine for the both of us just super eager.

I reposition myself to where I’m laying flat on my stomach so he doesn’t notice.

Bryce hops on to the bed with me and try’s his hardest to navigate a wine opener.

“Geez, I have no clue what I’m doing here…”

I eventually take it and started twisting in. I try to pull it out but struggle.

“Here since you now have all of the muscles.”

He rolls his eyes at me and tugs it out.

“Success!”

“Good team work there he-man,” I say playfully.

Bryce’s pours both of us a glass and at first I thought it tasted awful. But the second glass… now I see why people like it. I feel so warm inside and relaxed.

We both lay back in his bed.

“Is it super weird for you?,” I ask him.

“What?”

“You know… being in your Walkers body.”

“Um… yes. Yes and no I guess. I feel like everything has just moved so quick since the trip. I feel very different in public, like I’m so much more noticed. girls hit on me… so do guys. It’s a lot to take in especially since you and my family are the only ones who know about it.”

“What about Walker’s girlfriend?”

“Oh he broke up with her, thought it would be less weird. Although he had to do it over text because I refused to call or see her in person.”

“Damn! That’s crazy.”

“Yeah but she was like his girlfriend for the month, nothing serious.”

Of course…

“So is this pretty permanent?”

“Yeah I think so, unless you know of any other magic objects than can reverse it haha.”

“No, not off of the top of my head,”I say jokingly.

“Well… that answers your question. This is my body now. This is the new me I guess,” he says looking his muscles over.

I look them over as well and then my eyes draw this briefs… he’s got a hard on…

Bryce catches my eyes and says, “you wanna touch it?”

“What?!?”

“Come on Chase… don’t play games with me. I know you and I know you’ve had the hots for this body. I’ve known for years now.”

I take a deep breath… I feel my nervous all over again.

“It’s okay, I know you like this body. It’s my body now. And I want you to touch my massive dick.”

“But Bryce!”

“Shhh! Chase I’ve had a crush on you for years and I know you would never fool around with me. And now I have the body you’ve been lusting for years now. TOUCH MY MASSIVE DICK PLEASE!”

“Fuck, okay.”

I start touching it from the outside and it does feel huge!

“You know I love you Bryce, you’re the most important person to me. I just never wanted us to loose our friendship. It’s why I never tried anything with you.”

“I know. And listen I know you weren’t trying to go after my brother. I know what he looks like. Everyone does. But now I have the body and the personality so, I’m giving you no choice but to date me. Got it?”

“Ugh fine,” I say rolling my eyes.

“Now can you do me a favor?”

“Sure!”

“Can I see your feet?” he says to me.

Wow! Wasn’t expecting that!

“Wait why?”

“I hope you don’t think this is weird but I have a thing for them.”

“Shut up! So do I!”

“You do?!?”

“Yeah especially…,” I eye down to his feet and wiggles his toes.

“Oh my god! This is about to be a wild night!”

“Wait, can I kiss you?”

“Please!”

Part 2 Coming…

[purplecoffee13]

Cross The Line*

Summary: “Harry and Y/N have always had a great professional relationship, all based on one rule; a line they drew the first time they met. But when one day that line accidentally blurs, Harry finds that he doesn’t want it to go back to the way it was…”

Wc: 13k

Tropes: Boss!rry x Secretary!Y/N

Warnings: A LOT of back and forth (this is what Katy Perry wrote hot and cold about), arguing, curse words, smut, dirty talk, degradation, light ch0king, dom/sub dynamics, edging, b0ndage, and recording while… yk🤗

A/N: I’m terribly sorry to have been testing your patience so much the second half of this year, here is a long one shot to say I’m sorry🥲 and I appreciate all of you and I hope you are happy and healthy and will get everything you want in the new year xx💘💘

General Masterlist

HEADER = POV change

Harry's relationship with his secretary is completely normal.

At least, he’s always thought it is.

Sure, it may have seemed more friendly than the usual boss/secretary relationship, but that was only because Y/N was special. She was one of the kind. Smart, stealthy, and sneaky if need be. She did everything he asked for, sometimes before he even realized he should ask her, and was always ready to do more.

Of course, she was attractive as well. Shit, attractive may have even been an understatement. Y/N was drop dead gorgeous and Harry was entirely aware of it. Her ambition made her even sexier, and it's one of the reasons he hired her in the first place.

When Y/N walked through his office door that first time three years ago, he couldn't believe his eyes.

He remembers it like it was yesterday, those wide eyes staring back at him as she froze a couple feet away from him. She was quick to regain herself, though—he had to give her that. But she was nervous as she sat down, even though her movements were calm and the tone of her voice stern. He saw the slightest shake of those hands of her.

Because that job interview hadn't been the first time Harry and Y/N came across each other. It was actually a Halloween party at some high end secretive club in New York one month prior. A night that ended with them hooking up in one of the private lounges.

Even back then, when he never thought he'd see her again, he knew that he would never forget that night, nor the way her face scrunched up as she clenched around him, or the sounds that she made as he drove into her.

He could see that she remembered it as well as she sat across from him that day, but Y/N had quickly made it clear that she was serious about pursuing a career in the film industry. She said she could prove what a great secretary she could be for him, as long as they could put that Halloween night behind them and pretend it never happened. She wouldn't make him regret it, she had told him. He took the chance.

And she had been absolutely right.

Three years had passed and Harry was still thankful to himself for hiring Y/N. She was the best around; fiercely loyal as well. Y/N had been offered jobs by other companies, but she turned down every last one of them. Harry liked to think their relationship played a bit of a part in that as well.

They had become friends—if that's what you could call it—over the years. They had a playful dynamic filled with flirty jokes and random phone calls and favors that blurred that line they had drawn so carefully during Y/N's job interview.

No matter what, Y/N would be the first Harry would call, every time. Whether it was bad business news or a drunken phone call, her number was most likely to be at the top of his last calls. And she always answered, even though she didn't have to. It was a special bond, and while they always danced on it—especially Harry—they never crossed that one line.

Not that Harry needed to. As a matter of a fact, he had quite the adventurous love life. With plenty of people on speed dial and a charming smile that could make anyone's panties drop, Harry wasn't short on romantic escapades. The one thing they all had in common, though, was that it'd never last longer than a few days, and they were rarely ever repeated.

The same couldn't be said for Y/N. In fact, Harry had never seen her with anyone outside of her work, and he never heard her mentioning anything about it...

He didn't know why, but somehow, that thought popped up into his head last Friday as they sat in his office with a drink, celebrating the outstanding reviews that critics had given the newest produced film that was set to premiere next week. Before Harry knew it, he was asking about it.

"Why are you rubbing your temples?" He questioned, watching Y/N massage the side of her head with her eyes closed. He was leaned back in his seat, whiskey in hand as he observed the woman across from him.

"Tension headache." She groaned in response. Despite her grumpiness, Harry couldn't help but grin. What could he say? She was cute when she was grumpy.

"We are literally celebrating, Y/N. What could you possibly be so tense about right now?" He teased, and felt his stomach swirl as a smile painted her lips. She might have rolled her eyes, but she still thought he was funny.

"Oh you have no idea." She mumbled, grabbing her glass and leaning back into her chair. She took a big gulp, her face pulling at the strong taste of the liquor. Harry chuckled.

"You should relax more. Maybe get a hot date to take care of some of that stress for you." He suggested jokingly. Y/N scoffed at the insinuation.

Shaking her head, she said: "I get taken care of just fine, thank you very much."

The equally teasing tone in which she responded caught Harry seriously off guard. Her slight grin pressed down on his chest, and despite having started this joking banter himself, he suddenly didn't find the topic very funny anymore.

"When?"

Y/N locked eyes with her boss. “What?”

"You're here 24/7, when do you even have time to hook up with someone?"

"You know there's this thing called weekends." She joked, but the amusement faded when Harry's mouth didn't even quirk upwards in the slightest bit. It fell quiet for a second or two, and just when Y/N opened her mouth to say something else, someone knocked on the office door.

"Come in."

Harry had said, and soon enough Robin, one of the managers walked in, telling them everyone was going to the pub down the street to celebrate, and if they wanted to come along.

Harry didn't even have the chance to reject the offer—he'd rather spend his nights with his secretary—before Y/N agreed to go along. Feeling obligated, Harry reluctantly gave in as well.

He ended up going home quite early that night, not even properly saying goodbye to Y/N like he normally would before leaving, and he couldn't get the image of her wrapped around another man out of his head the entire ride home. He didn't know why it bothered him so much. Maybe it was the fact that it shouldn't, and more importantly, couldn't bother him, which made it even less bearable.

Whichever reason there may have been for it, he decided to drown out his thoughts by inviting one of his old hook-ups to his house. But even as he drove himself into her as she kept screaming his name, he couldn't stop thinking of Y/N. When she had reached her climax and he began to chase his own high—Harry was caught off guard by Y/N's face flashing through his mind, and extremely embarrassed when those images triggered his orgasm.

The next week is awkward, to say the least. It started out Monday, when Harry could barely look Y/N in the eye. She had received the sudden cold shoulder pretty well, but Harry still felt horrible about it. His attitude got less stiff throughout the week, but it was still bad.

By the time Thursday rolls around again, Harry still hasn't had the chance to get that weird feeling out of his system. So when he approaches his office and spots Y/N behind her desk smiling at him, a wave of guilt washes over him.

He curses himself as he sinks into his desk chair, absentmindedly turning on his laptop. What is he doing? Y/N is his assistant. He shouldn't let his protectiveness of her get the best of him. He does not want to lose her in any way.

Harry flinches when there is a knock on his door. He looks up, finding Y/N standing in his doorway. Immediately, he signals for her to come in. She seems a bit nervous as she nears him, and considering she's never been nervous around him, his heart sinks at the idea that the cold shoulder he's been giving her the other night might have affected her way more than he thought.

He just doesn't know how to behave instead.

"You have a meeting in conference room C in five minutes. It's the banker's son who's been proposing his script for the past year. I  know your schedule is tight, especially with the premiere coming up, but I thought you might as well get it over with." She says, putting a stack of papers on the table that Harry can only assume is the script. He nods, quirking up the corner of his mouth.

"Thank you, smart thinking." The praise falls from his lips in a casual manner, and he doesn't miss the way she physically relaxes at the positive reinforcement. She nods at him, and turns back to the door. Right before she is about to leave the office, she turns around again. Harry leans back in his seat, waiting to hear what she'll say.

"I'm sorry if I overstepped last week." She says, and Harry frowns at the apology.

"What?"

"I clearly said something that ticked you off." She explains,her shoulders slumping slightly. "I know we joke around, but I was afraid that maybe I'd accidentally crossed a line—“

"Y/N, stop it." Harry interrupts her, getting up from his seat. Her lips are locked within a second, and she stares at her boss with wide eyes. His stomach twists at the sight of it. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"But— if I said something inappropriate then I want to apologize for it." She says, straightening her posture again, biting her bottom lip so he won't see it quiver. As if he doesn't know the way her body works. As if he hasn't known for three years.

Putting his hands inside his pockets, Harry walks around his desk and stands in front of her. A little closer than he needs to, and yet not as close he would like.

"Let me ask you this: How many times have you declined booty calls for me?" He asks, tilting his head a bit. A slight smile appears on Y/N's face, and she pretends to think it over.

"Twenty-seven." Her smile crinkles her eyes, making them even more glassy. Harry quite literally feels his hand itch to touch her face, but he keeps it sternly in his pocket. "I kept track so I could count all the reasons you definitely won't get into heaven."

At that, he lets out a snort. Y/N can't help but chuckle too, and slowly but surely the weirdness dissolves from the room. When the laughter has died down, she speaks up again.

"So... we're good?"

"We're good." Harry smiles at his secretary, and his chest heats up when he spots the faint blush that appears on her cheeks. Jesus Christ, did she become even more beautiful than she was yesterday or was he just too stupid to notice earlier? Probably the latter.

"Well in that case you need to leave because your meeting is like, right now." She reminds him, and he hums in agreement as he gets up from his seat and walks towards the door with Y/N.

"Already gone, love." He winks at her, walking out the door with a lot more confidence in his relationship with Y/N. Maybe everything can go back to normal again. Maybe he was just exaggerating when he couldn't get her out of his head this weekend. Perhaps it was just a glitch, a temporary error in his brain that had come and gone in a flash.

That must've been it, he tells himself as he makes his way to conference room C. He takes a deep breath, musters a polite smile, and opens the door to the room. Harry already knows this guy is going to be wasting his time, but he made a promise to hear him out, so he will.

The guy sitting at the table is the stereotypical spoiled rich son. When John Longwell—a long-time business partner of Harry's— asked him to revise his son's script as a favor, Harry told him he'd do it if he ever found the time. He always hoped John's son would lose interest and forget about the script by the time Harry could find a free space in his agenda, but unfortunately that hadn't been the case.

And although the arc of the story had sounded absolutely horrendous— something about zombies fueled by a brainwashing radio song, which didn't even make sense to Harry because zombies don't have brains—he couldn't back out anymore. So he needs to get it over with, starting now.

Harry loudly shuts the door.

The guy—whose name he can't really remember at the moment—flinches and turns around, a big grin on his face as he gets up from his seat.

"Mr. Styles, it's a pleasure to see you." The man says, extending his hand, which Harry, in turn, takes. He only gives a slight nod before heading over to the other side of the table and sitting down.

"So, where's your script?" Harry asks, eyeing the empty table. The guy looks flustered, opening his mouth to say something, but the opening of the door interrupts that. Harry leans back in his seat when he spots his secretary walk through it, not even eyeing the other guy as she struts over to him and lays the printed out script on the glass table.

"Sorry, you forgot this. It was still on your desk." She says, finally turning to the man to throw him an innocent smile. His sheepish grin satisfies her enough to turn back to her boss and focus all her attention on him. "I also forgot to ask you— do you want to move up lunch today?"

The corner of Harry's mouth tugs up. Over the last three years, the concept of 'moving up lunch' has become a code for 'should I get you out of this early?'. Y/N came up with it a long time ago, and it has stuck ever since.

"Yes, I would very much like that. Thank you, Y/N." He says, and the way a smirk slowly creeps onto her face makes the hairs on his body rise.

"It's my pleasure, Mr. Styles." She gives one final nod before walking out of the room and closing the door behind her. Harry would lie if he said he didn't let his eyes fall onto the way her hips moved as she strolled away.

Unfortunately the fun doesn't last long, and with the slam of the door Harry is reminded that he still has to sit through this meeting a little longer. He looks down at the script.

"A Thousand Zombies

By Jason Longwell."

Right, Jason, that was his name.

"Jesus Christ, if that were my secretary I'd have her bent over my desk all day. How do you get any work done?" Jason breathed out, grinning like a stupid fucking schoolboy. Harry quite literally felt the storm cloud that came floating right above his head the second he heard that incompetent loser say those words. His hands balled up into fists at the suggestive comment, knuckles getting whiter by the second.

"Get out." Harry growls. John raises his eyebrows, looking around him as if Harry couldn't have possibly been addressing it to him.

"W— what?" He stumbles.

"I don't do business with insolent idiots. Get out." Harry repeats, getting up from his seat and buttoning his suit jacket. John follows his movements, anger starting to cloud on his face.

"What the fuck did you just call me?" He exclaims in a failed attempt to sound intimidating. At least, Harry assumes that's what he's trying to do.

"I called you an idiot. Now, get the hell out of my face before I boot your sorry ass right to the front door." With one brow raised, he waits as John tries to muster a response until he eventually gives up and storms out of the room. Harry throws the script into the trash as he walks out of the conference room half a minute later. Y/N is immediately by his side.

"That was quick, I didn't even have time to think of an emergency." She jokes as they walk back to Harry's office together. He raises a brow.

"Yes you did. What was it this time? Food poisoning?" He guesses, holding the door to his office open once they've reached it. Y/N grins as she walks past him and takes a seat at one of the chairs in front of his desk.

"Actually, your car was going to get stolen in about five minutes." She responds, the blush of her cheeks revealing the slight embarrassment of having to voice this excuse out loud. Harry's eyes widen as he walks over to his desk, feeling his assistant watching his every move. He quite likes the feeling.

"No way." He laughs. "You just get more creative by the day."

"What can I say, I'm good at crisis management." She shrugs, crossing her legs and getting into a more comfortable position on the chair. Harry tries his best to not let his eyes float to her legs.

"That you are." He murmurs, the huskier sound of his voice giving a different ambiance to the conversation. As Harry feels the mood switch, he curses himself. Why did he have to ruin it?

Y/N clears her throat. "Anyway— why'd the meeting end early?"

"It ended early because Jason Longwell is a sleazy douchebag." He responds shortly, straightening in his seat in an attempt to gain control of the situation again. He can't let himself slip like this again, and she can't know the real reason he kicked out Jason. But there is no denying the sheer rage that boils his blood when that comment flashes through his memory. He hates that the asshole thought he could just speak about Y/N like that.

"Ooh, what did he say when you kicked him out?" Y/N asks eagerly, still in a playful mood. "You did kick him out right?"

"I don't have time to get into this right now. I need to sign those contracts that were sent in yesterday before I go home." Harry says sternly, avoiding eye contact with Y/N as he speaks, but he still sees the slump in her shoulders at his sudden shift in attitude.

"Right, of course." She immediately returns to the responsible secretary she always is, getting up from her seat. He hears her exit the room, heels clacking against the wooden floor. As soon as the door has shut, Harry throws his head back in frustration.

So much for going back to normal.

Playing into the teasing will only rope him further into that forbidden fantasy, and he clearly won't be able to stop himself from resisting her if he does. But he's the one who started all the playfulness, massively screwing himself over he realizes now. If he shifts his behavior, she's always going to think he's mad at her because of something.  But he's going to have to, because Harry can't go back to normal anymore.

Deciding he needs to clear his head, Harry grabs his coat and heads for the elevators without so much as a word. He pretends not to notice the way people's eyes widen when he walks by, suddenly on their best behavior, and although it used to give him an ego boost back when he started, nowadays he just prefers it if people aren't scared of him.

It turns out to be a particularly nice outside for a winter day in London. Not to get it twisted— it's still freakishly cold. It's just that the sun has replaced the endless rain of this entire month. Harry suppresses a chuckle at the irony of the sun finally being out at the very first moment where he's felt so shitty in a long time.

He doesn't know how long he's outside, so he knows it's not fair to be frustrated when he comes back and Y/N isn't at her desk, but he can't help the slight distress that washes over him at the empty seat.

"It's just a date—"

"Your second date!"

Harry creased brows don't do much to hide his feelings when he turns around to see his secretary with a co-worker. The shy smile on her face—accompanied with that blush on her cheeks she always gets when she's secretly giddy about something—disappears at the sight of her boss looking at her like she just killed a puppy.

"Ha— Mr. Styles." She is quick to catch her almost error. Her wide eyes bore into his, filled with confusion and worry. But Harry's frown doesn't give away much, aside. From the fact that he is obviously annoyed.

"I was looking for you." He states stoically, not even acknowledging the employee that is standing next to her. The woman takes the hint and gives Y/N and Harry a small nod before walking away. As soon as she does, Harry turns around and walks towards his own office. He can hear her footsteps following him inside, and with the inconsistent clacking against the floor he can tell she's having a hard time keeping up with his long strides. Still, he doesn't slow his pace.

"I need the papers for the donations printed out and on my desk. And I'll need you to move the meeting with the director of the romance movie to Tuesday evening."

"Yes, of course." The breathy response falls from Y/N's lips the second he finishes his sentence, and by the time he enters his office, she is long gone to do exactly what he asked. Harry shuts the door a little louder than intending to, accidentally shaking the framed artwork on the wall.

Y/N isn't very talkative for the rest of the day, that usual spark of hers seemingly having dimmed. Harry's chest is heavy, knowing his cold attitude was the catalyst for that, but he keeps it up nonetheless. He can't help himself from falling back into it every time he sees her face.

A date. She's going on a date. A second one at that. He can't believe it. Is this who she referred to when she said she gets taken care of? His stomach churns at the possibility.

He tries not to, but Harry still gets warped into the spiral of overthinking about 'date' Y/N has tonight. So much, in fact, that he almost doesn't notice the time flying by until Y/N knocks on his door at 6PM. Harry spots the coat that hangs over her desk chair, and he realizes the work day is over.

"Everything is done for the day and ready for next week. I also sent the papers about the donations with a courier who owed me a favor, so the documents are signed on both parts and the donations will be officially registered by Monday." She explains, hands behind her back. Her new shy behavior—while quite endearing—is excruciating to see. She had always been comfortable around Harry, until now. Until he had to ruin it for the both of them.

"Thank you." Harry gives her a firm nod.

"No problem." She responds a bit awkwardly. "So... I'm going to clock out for the day."

Y/N has already turned around by them time Harry's voice croaks out a 'no'. She whips her head towards her boss, head tilted as she awaited whatever it was that he was going to say.

"I need those contracts for that romance movie." He says before he can even comprehend his words.

"But you won't be negotiating that deal for another two weeks." Y/N retorts, her tone more stern than usual. He can tell she's tired.

"I don't care. I want them on my desk tonight." He holds his head high, despite knowing damn well what he's doing.

He's stalling. Long enough for... he doesn't know actually. For her to cancel her date? It sounds ridiculous now that he really thinks about it.

"Harry, I have an appointment tonight—"

"I said I don't care. I pay you to do as I ask. This is not something you can argue me on." He grumbles. With how Y/N's jaw is clenched, he can't say the same for her attitude. Without another word, she leaves the office.

Harry's worry begins to grow every minute that passes with Y/N out of sight. But when she returns with a stack of papers in her hand after a bit—seven minutes to be exact—that worry evolves into surprise. Walking over to his desk, she plops the papers on them a bit carelessly before speaking up.

"I had them made on Monday because I like to be a few steps ahead." She elaborates. "Now, if that's all, I'm going home."

Y/N doesn't even say goodbye when she grabs her coat and walks to the elevators. Harry sighs to himself, not knowing how the hell he should handle this. It takes him a few seconds before he realizes he really can't do this anymore. He needs to talk to her, if only just to clear the air.

And so, he gets up from his seat and hurries after his assistant.

He catches her just as she walks into an empty elevator, and he joins just before the doors close. Her knitted brows make it clear that she is not in the mood to talk to him.

"I'm sorry... about the documents." Harry confesses, but she doesn't face him. It stays quiet between them for a bit, until the biting sentence falls from Y/N's lips.

"You said we were good."

His heart cracks at her wobbly voice. He can't believe he made her feel this way. If any other person would've brought her to tears, he would've beaten the shit out of them. He reaches for her arm.

"W— we are." He lies. It's the biggest lie he's ever told her, and she knows it, because she immediately turns around.

"No we're not! I said I was sorry if I did something wrong, and you told me it was okay, and now all of a sudden you're being so... cold. I don't understand—" her eyes become glassy. "I don't understand what I did wrong."

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Harry opens his mouth, ready to spout out his apologies, when Y/N's phone starts to ring. It takes them out of their little trance, and Y/N fumbles around her jacket for a bit until she's finally found her phone. He can't see who's calling her, but it can't be an expected call if he has to judge by the expression on her face.

"Marco, why are you—" her eyes widen at whatever the voice on the other side of the line is telling her, and Harry subconsciously finds himself leaning in a bit in the hope to find out what's wrong.

"What?" Y/N breathes. Her voice is small, and it sounds defeated, tired. The elevator dings, signaling they're downstairs, but Y/N doesn't move, so Harry doesn't either. She seems to notice and lets out a huff before storming out of the confined space and pacing around the lobby.

"You said we had a green light! That was months ago, Marco! Did you even—" She growls, clutching at her phone so hard Harry is afraid she's going to break it. "You know what, never mind. Give me his number."

The Marco guy seems to say something that he really shouldn't have said, because with the way Y/N's face twists Harry swears he can see steam coming out of her ears

"I don't care that they're not answering, I'll make them answer. Give me their numbers and then go find them." She orders before ending the call. And although the thought really shouldn't be crossing his mind right now, Harry can't help but notice how attractive Y/N is when she's mad. He shakes off the thought, telling himself that's the last thing he should be paying attention to right now.

Y/N paces around one more time, cursing under her breath, before striding past Harry and pushing the elevator buttons like a maniac.

"What's going on?"

Y/N shakes her head. "N— nothing. Just a little hiccup that could've easily been prevented. I won't be long."

Harry raises a skeptical brow, but she doesn't dare to meet his eye. She's lying through her teeth.

"Y/N—"

"Harry, really, it's nothing. I'm taking care of it." She tries to convince him, but he notices the way her hands are slightly trembling. "I'm sorry I was unprofessional. You're my boss. It's my job to take your orders, not question them."

Wait, no.

That aching feeling fills his stomach. His entire body, for that matter. He doesn't want her to be a silent and compliant assistant. That's not why he hired her. He needs someone to push back, to joke around with. Shit— what has he done?

Harry finds himself speechless as she enters the elevator and pushes the button of the seventh floor; the office. His brain isn't fast enough to think of what to say before the doors shut and the elevator ascends.

His feet stay glued to the ground as he ponders, his mind reeling like a rollercoaster. Frustration fills his body to his every finger tip. Everything has gone wrong, and he has no idea how to make it better.

At least ten minutes must've gone by by the time that a concierge taps Harry on the shoulder to ask him if he's okay. Still a bit wary, he nods before excusing himself and leaving the building.

Everything is going wrong.

Leaning over the desk with her face buried between her arms, Y/N is unable to hold back the tears that glide over her cheeks.

First, her boss gets mad at her, and she has no idea why. Then, just when they seemed to be okay again, he changed his attitude up again. And what does she do instead of letting it go? She starts a fight. And now Marco drops a disastrous bomb in her lap that could entirely ruin the movie premiere on Sunday. And if that wasn't enough—and she really thinks it was—this sudden crisis caused her to cancel her date of tonight.

It wasn't anything special, really. Y/N had met Jamie a few weeks ago, and they went out last week. He was a nice guy, handsome too, and she thought he was perfect for a short lived affair. Besides, her vibrator just couldn't live up to her fantasies. She was human, she needed to get off every now and then too. It was like Y/N had this itch in need of scratching, one she hadn't been able to reach in what felt like years.

But that wasn't going to happen now. In fact, she was risking being fired if she didn't solve this problem as soon as possible.

Damn! She really thought she had kept it all together, despite the extreme business this year. She thought she'd done a good job.

But that was a lie, because if she had done a good job, Marco wouldn't have ever gotten into the position where an artist on the soundtrack could manipulate the contract they signed. Y/N had told Marco to make it airtight, already having been suspicious of the artists' integrity from the moment they became part of the soundtrack. She assumed that they would try something.

'Chain' was an up and coming band known for their indie sound, but Y/N would just describe them as two pricks. Not only had they been subtly demeaning to her when Harry met with them, barely acknowledging her existence, they were arrogant as well. They came in expecting a lot more money than Harry and the rest of the company were willing to give them. It was absurd that they expected such a big number, but their cocky attitude didn't fade throughout the meeting.

It was truly a favor to the director, why Harry worked so hard to compromise with Chain. The director had been so passionate about the movie, and he had really wanted the song. If one thing was important to Harry, it's that there went passion onto the projects he produced and invested in. So, he decided to help, and eventually managed to struck a deal with the singers. It was still way above the pay grade they should've got—in Y/N's opinion—but they agreed.

Having seen first hand how greedy those two were, she had told Marco—the guy who handled all the legal documents—to make that contract airtight. She demanded to look it over, but because of her busy schedule, she let Marco have another lawyer look at it before sending the contract.

And now, because of a lazy mistake Chain's lawyer found, they are demanding more money or they'll waive their rights to the music. Something which would be absolutely detrimental because the entire climax of the movie, the cinematography and timing are all tuned to the song.

If she doesn't find a way to solve this problem, this entire premiere could fall apart, and it would all be her fault. She gave the green light to Harry, who gave it to the director. It's all her fault. 

She should've fucking read that contract herself, then this would've never happened.

Between Harry being mad at her, the fact that she was in her luteal phase, and this sudden disaster, the tears began streaming down her face, and the soft crying only turned into full on sobs the more she tries to calm herself down.

She allows herself the mental breakdown, but when she begins to regain control of her breath again after a few minutes, Y/N decides that it's enough. She has a job to get done, and no one was going to swoop in and save her.

So, she starts making call after call, ringing everyone in the immediate vicinity of the two arrogant bastards. It's crucial she reaches them before the night is over. Only forty minutes have passed by the time she is on the seventh person, but it feels like an eternity nonetheless.

She flinches when, while trying to reach Chain's tour manager, the elevator door dings and a shadow nears. Her tense shoulders sink a little bit at the sight of Harry, glad it's not some creep. Her brows crease as she watches him walk towards her. He's carrying a couple of bags with... is that food? It sure smells like it.

When the call goes to voicemail—for the third time—Y/N puts down the phone and gets up from her seat, hurrying over to her boss and stopping him before he could reach her desk.

"What are you doing here?!" She asks, blocking his way. He lifts the bags, a subtle, apologetic smile on his face.

"I brought food—" He looks up at her, and his eyes darken as soon as he takes in her face. "Have you been crying?"

Y/N raises her hands to her face, quickly glancing at the ground while she wipes her cheeks before meeting his eyes again. Harry puts the bags down, and it feels like her heart skips a beat or two when his thumbs stroke the skin under both her eyes. He leaves his hand around her face, cupping her jaw while he stares at her with such a piercing pain in his eyes that it makes Y/N's eyes water altogether again.

"What's wrong?" His voice is soft, and the feel of his big, warm hands holding her is comforting her in a way she hasn't experienced in a quite some time. Y/N only focused on his chest, afraid that the welled up water in her eyes will spill out again the second she looks at her boss. She told herself the crying was over, so why wasn't she able to control herself?

A few seconds pass, and silence runs between the thick air that makes it nearly impossible to breathe normally. Then, Y/N feels the slight pressure of Harry's hands, inching her head upwards. Automatically, her gaze flicks to that of her boss, and when she sees the worry on his face, a tear escapes her eye. His thumb catches it before it has the chance to roll down all the way down her cheek.

"I messed up." She only says, closing her eyes in shame. Harry says nothing, only letting out a sigh as he continues to caress her cheek.

Suddenly, the phone rings. Y/N reluctantly backs away from Harry's touch, and runs over to her desk to pick up the phone.

"Hello?" She says, her voice laced with such desperation that she internally cringes at it.

"Y/N? It's Marco. I found them, they're at a studio just outside the city."

She hums, grabbing a pen. "Give me the address."

"No, I'm going. This is my mess, Y/N, I'm not going to let you clean it up." Marco croaks from the other side of the line, and Y/N feels his voice tug at her heartstrings.

"Marco, listen to me. This is as much my fault as it is yours. I should've read the damn thing and notice the mistake." She replies, leaning over her desk to grab her coat.

"Y/N, I'll take care of it, okay? I found a fault in their loophole, they're stuck. Let me handle this. You just go home and enjoy what's left of your evening I ruined—" Marco tells her. "Wait, didn't you have a date tonight? Oh my god, did I ruin your date?"

"I did... but it's alright. It probably wouldn't have worked out with him anyway." Y/N chuckled awkwardly and glanced towards Harry, who looked weirdly annoyed at what she said.

"I'm so sorry, I promise I'll make it up to you." Marco shares the desperate plea.

"You can make it up to me by giving me the address of the studio." Y/N tells him cheekily.

"Y/N..." he warns.

"What? I promise I'm going home. It's just so I know where you are." She lies. Y/N is a good liar, except in front of Harry. Having a tendency to get nervous, she always betrays herself. She's lucky that this is a phone call, otherwise Marco would've known she wasn't planning on going home at all.

Hesitantly, he gives her the address, which she immediately writes down on her hand.

"Okay, thank you Marco. Good luck." She says, hanging up the phone with a lot more confidence than ten minutes ago. She can feel Harry staring her down as she puts on her coat, clearly waiting for an explanation for this whiplash-like behavior.

"I really have to go."

Harry shrugs. "I'll give you a ride. You can explain everything to me on the way to your house."

Y/N shakes her head, walking towards her boss. "No, really, you don't have to."

"Yes I do." Harry argues.

"You really don't."

"Do you have a problem with me bringing you home, Y/N?" He asks as if he's dumb, as if he doesn't know she's secretly trying to go to that studio.

"No!" She is quick to protest.

"Or does it have anything to do with the address of that mysterious studio you've written on your hand?" He teases, and Y/N clenches her jaw in frustration.

"I just— I need to make sure it's handled." She sputters. Harry shrugs.

"From what I heard it's being handled just fine." He points out. "You've got to learn to let things go sometimes, Y/N."

She shakes her head, looking the floor. "I can't. Not with this."

Harry lowers his head, trying to get on the same eye-level as her and searching for her eyes. "Why not?"

"I told you; I messed up." Her voice quivers as she tells Harry the truth. "There was a mistake in the contract with Chain. Somehow they found a loophole, and now they want more money or they'll waive the rights to their song."

"What?!" Harry growls, exactly like Y/N anticipated he'd react. God, he's going to fire her any moment.

"It's my fault. It was a reference mistake I could've easily spotted if I had taken the time to revise it." She admits, feeling extremely shameful of her lazy actions.

"What are you talking about? This is the legal team's fault, they should've seen that damned mistake! It's not in your job description to revise a contract, it's not your responsibility. It's not your fault, Y/N." He explains. She sucks in a breath, his words hitting her harder than she expected. Heart aching, the one sentence rings in her head.

It's not your fault.

That couldn't be true, could it? She was responsible for this deal, and for Harry. She should've seen this coming, even though she couldn't have possibly known. Did she not always pride herself in having this sixth sense, in being ahead of everyone else? What was she without that? What was she if not the best at the one thing that made her special, that set her apart from the crowd. What was she worth without that invincibility?

"You revise every contract, don't you?"

Her eyes flick towards her boss. She doesn't say anything, but the answer is hidden in her pupils. And it seems Harry can read them like an open book. "How long have you been doing that?"

"Two years." Y/N stammers, her arms crossed as if it will keep her body from revealing whatever her mouth won't. Harry just lets out a breathy chuckle before pulling her into his arms, taking her into a sweet embrace. With his chin leaning on her head, Y/N takes the opportunity to bury her face in his chest, trying not to bask too much in the heavenly scent of his cologne.

"Remind me to give you a raise." He jokes in a soft whisper, earning a sniff of laughter from Y/N.

For a while it seems like everything that tore her down, including what went down between her and Harry, didn't exist anymore. There was just him and her, their embrace and a distant ticking clock, the only indicator of time passing. Yet it felt like the world stopped, or slowed down at least, being in Harry's arms like that. And suddenly, that itch that she hadn't been able to scratch in so long, it felt like it was soothed by a stroking hand instead, and in a way it fulfilled her. It just so happened to be a way she did not expect.

The initial shock at the realization—this puzzle piece that suddenly clicked—made Y/N back away. She clears her throat, fiddling with her hands.

"They're supposed to be at this studio right outside the city. It's only twenty minutes away by car. I just need to be sure." She announces. Harry grabs the bags of food he put down before placing his hand on her lower back and guiding the both of them back to the elevator.

"We'll take my car." He states, and although Y/N can tell by his tone that Harry expects there to be no talking back, but she just can't help herself.

"Harry, I told you I can take a cab." She suggests as they wait for the elevator door to open. Harry doesn't respond as he guides them both into the small space and pushes the button for the ground floor. When the door closes, he turns to her, looking down at her with such an intimidating stare that Y/N feels like she's shrinking.

"And I told you: we're taking my car." He says sternly, his low voice twisting her stomach in an interesting way. When Y/N goes to open her mouth again, Harry lays his finger on her lips. He hums in disapproval, shaking his head.

"I was being clear, right?" He asks rhetorically. His gaze sweeps over her mouth before settling on her eyes again. Not daring to speak another word, let alone breathe, Y/N only nods in response.

"Good." Harry responds, a cocky smirk framing his face as he strolls out of the elevator, leaving Y/N breathless and in a slight trance. Blinking a few times, she comes back to her sense and hurries after her boss.

Richard has always been a master at reading people, and this time is no exception. The second he began driving, he raised the partition, leaving Harry and Y/N with some privacy.

Harry really has a knack for hiring the right people.

The first few minutes of the car ride are silent, and Harry spends it observing Y/N as she picked at her nail beds, frantically looking at of the window as if it would make the car move faster. She has so much tension inside that little body of hers; she is clearly in need of a distraction.

"I think I'm jealous."

Y/N's head whips to him, brows raised at the sudden confession. Her body turns with her, knees now in Harry's direction as she leans back into the seat, getting comfortable as she lays close attention.

"Of me?" She asks, utterly confused. She seems very lost, not really connecting the dots. Harry doesn't blame her; that confession was quite out of the blue.

"Of whoever gets to take care of you."

Pure silence. Harry swears he could hear a pin drop. Y/N stares at him like a deer in headlights, probably having no idea what to say or do or think. She gulps.

"What?" Her voice is so soft that he almost doesn't hear her, but since all his focus is on her, he doesn't miss it. Letting out a breath, he leans forward, placing a hand on her thigh. His face inches closer and closer until their mouths are mere inches away from each other. Checking for her reaction with every small movement, he can't help but notice how she doesn't stray away from him. In fact, she leans in, causing their lips to brush against each other.

"The idea of another man touching you, having you, it makes my fucking blood boil." He says, voice hoarse. Her eyes frantically search every last inch of his face, looking for something she seemingly can't find. Perhaps she's attempting to find the usual playfulness that always accompanies any conversation that blurs that line between them. In that case, she could keep looking forever and ever, because he is dead serious. Fuck how it used to be and fuck whatever's right or wrong.

And most of all, fuck that line, because he's crossing it.

Harry closes the small gap between them, trying to suppress the moan that threatens to work up his throat at the sole feeling of her lips against his. What a fucking idiot he was for ever agreeing to forget about that Halloween night. Not that he ever truly did forget about it. Besides her obvious competencies, hiring Y/N was a way of keeping her where he seemed to like her best from the moment they met; close to him.

With that thought in mind, he wraps his hand around her face and pulls her closer. She complies, clicking her seatbelt free to move further towards Harry when he slips his tongue inside.

Their mouths move against each other like it's both the first time and the hundredth time they've done this. So familiar and yet it's like nothing he ever felt before. A sensation so different from three years ago, one so heavy and laced with a detail his brain can't quite seem to grasp. Deep down, he knows what it is, he just can't quite lay his finger on it.

But his body can, and it does, and so does Y/N's, because her grinding against him is exactly what he needs. His hand sneaks around her neck, lips curling into a smile at the familiarity of the curves of her neck and the identical moan that falls from her lips just as it did three years ago.

Harry groans when the car suddenly stops and Y/N falls forward a little bit, the friction against his trousers being a bit too much to bear at the moment. Slowly, the partition lowers, and without so much looking at them through the mirror, Richard speaks up.

"We've arrived."

Wrong. Harry clearly hasn't.

Before Harry can catch his breath, Y/N can get off his lap, and either one can even answer, the partition rises again. Immediately, Y/N throws her face into Harry's neck.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god." She wheezes out in pure, utter shame. Harry shakes his head, a faint grin on his face. He would have been laughing his ass off if he wasn't so painfully hard right now. Instead, he only pats Y/N's back, telling her it's fine. She groans and opens the car door.

"No it's not! God, I will never be able to look him in the eye again!" She says, punching the bridge of her nose. Harry shuts the door and grabs Y/N's waist, pulling her towards him. She stumbles into his chest. He lifts her face with his fingers, forcing her to look up at him.

"You're going to have to, because I don't want to fire him." He jokes, and Y/N bites her lip to keep her smile from growing too wide. Not wanting to give Harry the satisfaction that he made her laugh, she looks to the side, but her face expression falls quickly.

"This is not my apartment." She notes, looking at the huge building next to her. "This is yours."

Harry nods.

"I can't be at your apartment, I have to—" Y/N stops herself before she can say more. But Harry already knew what she was going to say. Playfully, he raises a brow.

"You have to... what?"

"To... I have to—"

"Sneak out to that studio?" He finishes her sentence, and her eyes widen. She tries to regain herself but her cheeks are flushed and there is nothing she can do anymore. He's got her. "Yeah, that's not going to happen."

With that, he places a hand on her lower back and guides her towards his building. She stumbles a bit, but eventually catches onto the pace. But her body language is apprehensive, looking back at the road where Richard is standing. Or well, was standing. Harry ordered him to drive away as soon as they got out of the car.

Still, she turns around in a quick motion, trying to get to a cab. Harry's arm catches her, however, and he pulls her back against his chest. Along with his other hand, he turns her around, catching sight of her big eyes boring into his.

"Don't try me." He speaks slowly, dipping his head down until he finds himself inches away from Y/N. "You know what happens if you try me."

His voice is lower than before, having flipped a switch now that her mouth has been on his. He got a taste for the first time in years, he wasn't going to let her get away now. Y/N's breath hitches, eyes flicking down to his mouth.

Knowing he's got her right where he wants her, Harry pulls back and strolls toward the entrance of his apartment building. Soon enough, he hears those heels behind him and he smirks.

It's silent when they step in the elevator, and for the first few seconds, as Harry leans agains't the wall and observes his secretary, it stays that way. She eyes him a couple of times, her ears getting redder.

"What?" She breathes out, looking down at her body like there must be something wrong if he's looking at her for so long. He simply shrugs.

"Nothing. Just admiring you."

At that, Y/N vigorously shakes her head and crosses her arms. A soft scoff leaves her mouth, one she didn't think Harry would hear, but he did. He takes a few steps towards Y/N, inching her against the wall.

"You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?" He asks sincerely, searching for her eyes. When she finally looks up at him, the nervous smile on her face fades a bit.

Harry doesn't like that look on her face. Needing to fix it, he leans forward and plants his lips on hers again, grabbing her face and pulling her into him. It only takes a matter of seconds before her arms are wrapped around his neck and their bodies are impossibly close to each other again.

Tongues delving deeper into each other's mouth, Harry feels himself floating on some sort of feeling. Despite not being able to define it, he is absolutely positive that he doesn't ever want it to stop. And since kissing Y/N causes this specific feeling, the only feasible option is to never stop kissing her. It's the best plan he's had in ages.

It doesn't take long before the situation gets heated, much like it did before, and Harry's hands trail to Y/N's hips to pull her against him. Desperate for any sort of relief, Harry's hips automatically start to move, and Y/N immediately responds. His body feels like it's on fire, and he tries not to let out any sounds as his strained cock rubs against his tight pants.

Harry takes his lips off Y/N's mouth, peppering kisses to her jaw instead. Slowly, he works his way towards her ear, where he stops to whisper in her ear.

"I'm going to remind you how fucking beautiful you are." The hot breath that left his mouth had her shuddering against him, a slight whine escaping her lips. As he leaves sloppy kisses on Y/N's neck, Harry's free hand slowly travels under her shirt, finding her bra.

She gasps softly when his hand starts to massage her breast, the sensitivity of both spots leaving her hot and bothered under Harry. Fuck, she is so fucking stunning, how did she not see it herself?

Suddenly, the elevator stops, and the door opened. Taking a step back, Harry only winks at Y/N before he turns around and strolls out as if it's a casual Friday. As if he doesn't have his secretary, whom he left high and dry, trailing behind him like a lost puppy.

"Would you like something to drink?" He asks when they enter his home, Harry immediately going into the kitchen.

"Absinthe." Y/N breathes out, leaning over the kitchen island. Harry peeks inside his fridge.

"I only have white wine."

Y/N shrugs. "I'm sure it'll have the same effect if I just keep drinking."

Harry chuckles, grabbing the bottle of wine and placing it on the counter. He walks to a cabinet and takes two wine glasses out of it. Placing one in front of Y/N and the other in front of himself, he opens the bottle and starts pouring, not stopping until the glasses are halfway full. Y/N laughs at the ridiculously full wine glass that he pushes her way, but takes it gladly. He doesn't miss the way her breasts nearly spill out of her top as she leans forward a bit further than intended to in order to grab the glass.

"To the unexpected." She says it like it's a dare. Amused, Harry decides to entertain it, and nods his head.

"To the unexpected."

They raise the glasses before both taking a long sip. Y/N rests her arms on the table, giving a perfect view of her tits right in Harry's frame. She smirks when his eyes accidentally fall on it, and Harry's stomach swirls with excitement. She's trying to play.

"Crazy, how fast life can change, isn't it?" She asks rhetorically, and Harry just hums, waiting patiently for her to reveal what she's trying to do. "I mean, I got up today thinking I'd end the day in another man's bed."

There it is.

She's always been smart, and she knows how to push Harry's buttons. Though his fingers grip the kitchen counter tightly, so much that his knuckles turn white, Harry keeps the corners of his mouth lifted.

"And now you're here." He says, head tilting just a bit. She hums in agreement, taking another sip from her wine.

"Yeah, but just crazy to think that I went into the day thinking I'd hook up with someone else." She tells it so innocently, as if she's mostly talking to herself. Harry's jaw clenches as he stalks around the kitchen island and nears Y/N.

"But you're not, though." Harry notes, falling right into the trap. He knows what she's trying to do but he just can't help himself. He doesn't like the idea of her being with another man. He waits for her answer, hearing his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

"I know, but I could have—"

Before the sentence has entirely left Y/N's mouth, Harry's hand flies to her neck. The amused look on Y/N's face tells him enough, but he doesn't care.

"You're not. You're in my bed tonight, and any night after that as far as I'm concerned, so I don't want to hear another fucking word about it."

Her eyes twinkle with amusement as she stares up at him. "You really are jealous."

The corner of his mouth tilts upwards, "And you've gotten feisty over the years."

Y/N bites her bottom lip, humming in agreement to his observation. Harry lets out a soft chuckle, tightening the grip on her neck. Y/N gasps in surprise.

"But do you still like to be put in your place?" He asks, inching his face close to hers. The answer is written in her eyes, and yet Y/N doesn't respond. When it's clear that she won't anytime soon, Harry's free hand sneaks around the waist of her pants. She shivers at the touch.

"Well? Do you?" He repeats himself, and slowly but surely, Y/N nods her head. Harry lets out a disapproving noise. "That's not a proper answer."

Closing her eyes, Y/N lets out a deep breath. "Yes, I like to be put in my place."

"That's what I thought." Harry laughs, taking his hands off of her entirely. She frowns, but her eyes widen when he barks out a demand. "Take off your clothes."

He watches carefully as she follows his orders, and she clearly takes her time stripping down to her underwear. When she has, she looks to him for some sign of approval, but Harry just raises his brows. His hands are sunk into his pockets as Y/N lets out a little breath and takes off her bra and panties.

His eyes trail down her body, his cock hurting at the sight of her. God, she's beautiful. He feels like an absolute idiot for not having fought for her earlier, but he reminds himself that he can't change the past and that she is here now, stark naked in his kitchen. A grin spread across his face.

"Do you remember how you addressed me all those years ago?" He asks. It takes a few seconds before Y/N answers, but she gives him a firm nod.

"I called you sir."

Harry nods. "Rules haven't changed. Now, get on the counter."

Her eyes flick to the marble countertop, shock flashing through her eyes. "But Har—"

His right brow lifts ever so slightly. Catching the hint, Y/N stops herself before she can finish the sentence and hoists herself on to the cold countertop. It must not be very pleasant to lay your naked body on that freezing surface, but it was an uncomfortable temporary obstacle. The results would be great, and in about thirty seconds, she'd forget all about that cold touch against her skin.

Harry pulls out one of the bar stools and sat directly in front of Y/N. Spreading her legs apart, he catches sight of that perfect pussy he has been waiting three years to taste again. Like a starved man sat in front of a feast, the urge to dive right in is almost too strong to bear. But before he has her writhing under him, he wants to make her shiver.

"Can't believe it took us so long to get here." Harry hums, tracing his fingers up her thigh, carefully observing the way Y/N tries to control her breathing. Her fists are balled up into curls, attempting to send her concentration to anything else than Harry. He tries not to let his smugness show too much, but he has to say he likes seeing her struggle a bit. A bit of payback for trying to toy with him just now.

"You've always been stubborn." Y/N jokes, a gasp strangling out of her when Harry's fingers ghost over her clit. He chuckles, the tone of his voice so low that it could almost be considered evil.

"If I remember correctly, you're the one who wanted to forget about that Halloween night." He notes. Y/N hums.

"I also made the condition to act professionally, but we didn't do that either." Her eyes gaze into his, catching the fond smile with which he stares at her. A faint blush erupts on her cheeks.

"You drew the line." Harry retorted, and Y/N scoffed.

"You crossed it about a hundred times." She argues in response. He only hums, that cocky smirk on his face.

"I did, and consider this hundredth and first time to be the last, because I'm not getting behind that line again."

Y/N has never been so turned on her in her entire life. Harry’s words are the epitome of determination, and the way his fingers slip inside her so easily the second he finishes his sentence only solidifies that notion. The gasp that leaves her mouth is cut short and evolves into a low moan as Harry’s lips latch onto her clit.

Sensitive would be an understatement for her current state. She is aching, and the way Harry is ravishing her almost hurt. But any pain dwells in comparison to her desire she was overcome with at the situation she currently finds herself in. She is on Harry's kitchen counter, legs spread wide open and letting him do all the things that slipped into her dreams over the past three years.

Harry sucks in all the ways that made her squirm, moving his fingers with such ease that made it seem like he has fingered her a thousand times already. As if he knows her like the back of his hand, as if he knows all her secrets, even ones she doesn't know herself.

Y/N's hand buries itself in Harry's hair when he begins to kitten lick her clit, and she feels that inevitable climax inching closer and closer. She wonders how she had been able to keep herself composed for so long, because the high that creeps up on her feels like it was long overdue.

Unfortunately, the sensation comes to a grinding halt when Harry backs away from Y/N. Her head shoots up, and finds him leaning over her body, wearing boyish half-smile that is now glimmering with her juices.

Wrapping one arm around her waist and the other one under her legs, he picks her up bridal style. She holds onto his shoulders, burying her face into his neck as he carried her to his bedroom. When she begins unbuttoning his shirt, he throws her on his bed. She lets out a soft yelp, bouncing onto the bed.

"So greedy..." Harry tuts in disapproval, but Y/N doesn't quite care. She wants him, bad, and now that she's had a preview of what's to come she doesn't want to wait any longer. She needs him and she needs that orgasm.

She pulls him closer by his pants and starts to unbuckle his belt. "You're taking too long."

Y/N is about halfway done when Harry's firm hand wraps around her neck and pulls her closer to his face. Inching down, he growls: "You'll take what I give you."

"Then give me something." She spits back, and Harry's eyes turn five shades darker at her invitation to a challenge. He slowly leans back, Y/N watching his every movement in anticipation.

"On your stomach."

Y/N stomach swirls at the command, and she obeys as quick as she can. It stays silent for a little bit, and she awaits his further actions eagerly.

"Hands behind your back."

Again, she does what he says. Y/N doesn't dare to turn her head as she hears Harry walking around his room. When she feels a silky material around her wrists, she knows enough. He's tying her up.

Knowing better than to do otherwise, Y/N keeps her mouth shuts as Harry makes an impenetrable knot with his tie. She moves her wrists, assessing how tight it really is, and gets interrupted by a punishing slap on her ass. The sting remains for a couple of seconds, and she is sure there is now a red print the size of Harry's hand on her right cheek.

"Ass up." He barks out his final order, no doubt smirking as she changes her position, slightly struggling now that her arms are of no use.

Y/N bites her lip in anticipation when Harry's hand grabs onto her hips, steadying himself behind her. She slightly flinches forward when the tip of his cock teases her entrance, and attempts to speed up the process by leaning backwards a bit. She's rewarded with another slap on her ass.

But then Harry finally sinks in, and that dreadful itch that plagued Y/N for such a long time is finally scratched, over and over again as he begins to pound into her with long, slow strokes.

"Fucking hell..." Harry murmurs, his cock suctioning into Y/N's tight, clenching pussy. He is so big, and it bruises her in all the right ways.

"Oh baby... thaaat's it." He groans when Y/N begins to bounce back on his cock, aiming to get it even deeper inside of her. She is ruthless in her movements, groaning at the overwhelming sensations. When Harry gropes her ass— and his nails bite into her skin—she loses control.

Burying her face into the mattress, Y/N screams as she reaches her peak. The sound of Harry's moans at her pussy convulsing around his cock only strengthens her orgasm. Her mind goes entirely blank as the shattering release ripples through her like an earthquake. The only thing she can think of is Harry's name, and it's the only thing she cries out as the dizzying explosion settles all over her body.

"You really are desperate, aren't you?" Harry sneers as he pulls his cock out of Y/N, letting go of her hips. She nearly falls over, her tied up hands making it difficult to catch herself. This orgasm was so intense, she could feel the three years of pent up tension as it washed over her. Her cheeks are burning red and her teary eyes makes her vision somewhat blurry.

Y/N is thrown off when Harry suddenly turns her around and she finds herself lying on her back. The way he towers over her would have been intimidating had it not been extremely hot.

"Came on my cock so fast..." he mumbles cockily, corner of his mouth pulled up like the arrogant bastard he is. "Such a slut for it."

Y/N wants to give him some snappy comeback, but her brain is still fried from the orgasm and she's always liked to be degraded in bed, so she decides to only glare at Harry while he speaks. He catches it, and his grin only widens.

"You know it's true, baby." He tells her, bringing your legs over each of his shoulders. That deviant smirk is the last thing Y/N sees before her eyes roll into the back of her head at the feeling of Harry's cock stretching her out again.

He leans forward, almost folding her in two, and reaches deeper. He stays there for a few seconds—as if he is catching his breath—then slowly backs out of her before slamming right back in. Y/N lets out a screech that, if it hadn't been for the desperation laced in its tone, would've sounded like someone was trying to murder her.

Trying to keep her own moans at a minimum, Y/N closes her eyes and listens to the harsh slaps of Harry's skin against hers, and the groans that escape his mouth with each thrust. The strength behind each movement makes her clench around Harry, who in turn hisses her name as if it were a curse word. It only causes her to clench more. 

"Fuck, such a pretty little whore." Harry praises as he drives into her. Y/N can only whine, her tits bouncing uncontrollably at the impact of his motions. She must look fucking helpless. Opening her eyes, she catches the way Harry looks at her; like she's a dream. Like she's his dream.

"My pretty little whore." He growls, leaning back and holding one of her legs with his arm while the other reaches for her breasts.

"Yes..." Y/N breathes as he begins squeezing her breasts, getting lost in the sensations of him. Somehow it feels like Harry is everywhere. As if he has latched onto a part of her soul and she feels him coming to claim that every time his cock sinks into her.

"Such a tight fucking fit." He groans, taking her nipple between his fingers. "You should see how perfectly your pussy sucks in every inch of my cock..."

Y/N bites her lip as Harry talks, trying not too get too overwhelmed by the filthy things he's telling her as he plunges in and out of her. Her eyes catch the flex of his muscles that occur with every thrust, and she wonders how she got a man so perfect to fuck her stupid like this.

"Should record it... make a little video for just the two of us. What do you think?"

Oh my god.

"Don't you want to see how perfect we fit together?" He taunts, thrusting his hips harsher than before, hitting a spot that had been untouched for quite a while now. Y/N's face scrunches up.

"F—fuck! Yes, yes..." She responds when Harry stills inside of her to await an answer. He chuckles at the apparent hurry in her voice and reaches for—what Y/N assumes to be—his phone, on the bed. His motions are slow and soft, determined to keep Y/N satisfied at least a bit while he logs into his phone and searches for the camera app. She notices the start of his recording by the sudden change of pace and force of his movements.

His camera is pointed right at her pussy as he begins thrusting deep inside of her, and Y/N screams out Harry's name. The concentration on his face as he captures how she takes him proves too much to bear, and she shuts her eyes tightly, head flopping to the side.

She can hear his ragged breathing over all the other sounds that their bodies are making. The small grunts he makes in an effort not to moan too loudly is all she can focus on, and the tension in her belly grows exponentially with each vibrations of his voice that reaches her ears.

Harry slows his pace, putting more emphasis on the impact of his moves. It allows him to bring his free hand down to touch Y/N's clit. Her legs begin to shake the second he does.

"Are you gonna come again for me? I'm so close, baby. I can tell you are too." The softness in the delivery of his words have Y/N's ovaries rattle. She can only nod, a whine that was an attempt at a 'yes' falling from her rosy lips. Harry grins, his eyes flicking from his phone to her face. Everything feels so hazy, much like a daydream.

"Please don't stop." She squeals in such a high pitch that surprises even herself. Y/N had no idea she could go that high. Harry's bringing out an entirely new side of her.

"I'll never stop, baby." Harry rasps, pressing down on her clit in such a way that Y/N becomes cross-eyed for a second. Her nails grip into the bedsheets, the second release rippling through her like a hurricane. She never quite understood the word bliss, until now. This must be it; this feeling of... pure ecstasy.

Like a blank canvas splattered on with all the bright colors that exist in the world; fresh and exciting and psychedelic in a way. Impossible to define yet such a specific feeling. Y/N let all of it tingle from her head down to her toes, wanting to remember it forever.

The continuous pounding Y/N through her orgasm comes to a grinding halt when Harry reaches his own, pulling out just in time for his sperm to coat her puffy clit and swollen tits. His camera is focused on her frame, recording every spurt that paints her. She's the canvas, he's the colors, Y/N realizes. Harry is her definition of bliss.

The words shared between the two are scarce as Harry unties Y/N's hands, picks her up and carries her to the bathroom to clean her up. But the smiles on their faces says enough, both knowing what they feel is rare, and beautiful. Y/N assesses Harry's face, concluding that the soft edges of it makes him look like a proper angel.

When he's dressed her in one of his shirts, he takes her back to the bedroom, where he pulls her against his frame. Y/N wraps one leg around his torso, hugging him from the side with her head buried into his neck. The way his chest rises and lowers fills her with pure ease, and she leaves a few soft kisses in his neck as a silent thank you. Harry only hums in satisfaction, his arm only tightening around you, as if he's afraid you might let go.

"I'm never gonna let you go now." You tell him before you can even fully comprehend your words. Your heart starts racing, afraid that might've been too soon to say.

"Promise?"

Your racing heart is now melting as you turn your head and see Harry holding up his pinky. You are quick to interlock it with your own.

"Promise." You say with a smile.

General taglist: @mema10

[surielstea]

Solstice Special

(NSFW version)

Pairing: ACoTaR makes x Fem!Reader (separately)

Summary: A compilation of drabbles with a theme of Winter Solstice, just an excuse to write smut really.

Warnings: SMUT. 18+ ONLY. pwp, cunninglus, breeding kink (cassian), humiliation kink (azriel), thigh riding, biting kink and mention of blood (Lucien), creampie, p in v, likely a lot of other nasty things.

7.9k words.

Rhys - Sauna

Rhysand had won the snowball fight. Naturally, this victory imbued him with a misplaced sense of entitlement for the rest of the day. He'd declared himself sovereign of all things—including the sauna. Alone.

His decree had prompted groans of protest from the other two winged males, both grumbling about "tradition" and "selfishness" as they trudged back toward the cabin through knee-deep snow. Rhys had merely smirked, unbothered, and turned to me with an outstretched hand.

"Come, darling," he'd said, his tone a silky promise I couldn't resist.

The air inside the sauna was thick and heady, filled with the tang of cedar and the deep, humid heat that wrapped around me like a second skin. Clad in nothing but a towel and a sheen of sweat, I reclined on one of the wooden benches, my head tipped back against the wall, eyes fluttered closed. Each breath filled my lungs with the intoxicating warmth, soothing every tense muscle as it seeped into my very bones.

Across from me, Rhys sat sprawled in his usual languid grace, his own towel draped low on his hips. The steam rose in lazy tendrils around him, blurring the sharp cut of his cheekbones and the wicked curve of his smirk as he watched me. Always watching.

"Comfortable?" he purred, his voice like velvet, dark and inviting.

I hummed in response, too relaxed to bother with words.

His chuckle rolled through the small space, low and decadent as if he'd already won some game I hadn't realized we were playing. "Good. Because I'm not sharing this sauna—or you—with anyone else today."

The heat of the sauna was nothing compared to the heat in Rhysand's gaze. Even with my eyes closed, I could feel it—an unrelenting weight, heavy and deliberate as it traveled the length of my body.

"Are you going to keep staring, or are you going to say what's on your mind?" I murmured, my voice lazy, teasing.

A dark chuckle came in response, sending a ripple of awareness through me. "And ruin the view? Not a chance, darling."

I opened my eyes, the steam blurring his form for just a moment before my gaze sharpened on him. Rhys sat sprawled, his towel barely clinging to his hips, droplets of sweat tracing a maddening path down the carved planes of his chest. His wings were draped behind him, dark and sleek, adding to the languid power that radiated from him.

"Do you enjoy torturing yourself, or is this just for my benefit?" I asked, arching a brow as I stretched, the movement deliberately slow.

His smirk deepened, wicked and knowing. "Who says I'm the one being tortured?"

He moved then, fluid and precise, crossing the short distance between us in a single stride. His towel slipped just a fraction lower, and I swallowed hard, my resolve slipping as he knelt before me, his large hands bracketing my thighs. The warmth of his palms seared through the thin towel that clung to my body, his thumbs stroking soft circles against my bare skin.

"Careful," he murmured, his voice low and full of promise. "If you keep teasing me, I might decide to retaliate."

"Maybe I want you to," I whispered, the words barely audible over the sound of my own heartbeat.

His pupils flared, and the smirk faded, replaced by something darker, hungrier. "You shouldn't have said that, darling."

Before I could respond, his hands gripped my thighs, pulling me closer to the edge of the bench. His body pressed against mine, all heat and strength, as his mouth captured mine in a kiss that stole every ounce of air from my lungs. It wasn't soft or teasing—it was a claiming, pure and unrelenting.

I moaned against him, my hands finding his shoulders, digging into the slick heat of his skin as he devoured me. His tongue swept into my mouth, coaxing and demanding all at once, while his hands roamed, tugging the towel free from my body and leaving me bare beneath him.

The steam wrapped around us, a cocoon of heat and desire as Rhys pulled back just enough to gaze down at me. His eyes were molten, his breathing ragged. "You're beautiful," he murmured, the words reverent, though his hands betrayed the restraint in his voice as they gripped my hips. "And you're mine."

My response was a breathless gasp as he lowered his mouth to my neck, his teeth grazing over sensitive skin before soothing the bite with his tongue. His hands were everywhere, exploring, worshipping, as his kisses trailed lower, leaving a scorching path in their wake.

I arched into him, my body entirely at his mercy, and Rhys, ever the opportunist, took full advantage. His name fell from my lips like a prayer as he settled between my thighs, his touch igniting a fire that threatened to consume us both.

"Relax, darling," he murmured, his voice thick with promise. "Let me take care of you."

Rhysand's words hung in the humid air, melting into the heat that already had me trembling beneath his touch. His hands—strong, calloused, utterly sure of themselves—caressed the bare skin of my thighs, slowly coaxing them apart as he knelt fully between them. The smirk that played on his lips was as wicked as it was breathtaking, and when he glanced up at me, his violet eyes smoldered with unrelenting intensity.

"Beautiful," he murmured again, his voice a velvet rasp. His hands slid higher, thumbs stroking over sensitive skin, his touch both reverent and maddeningly teasing.

I let my head fall back, a shuddering exhale escaping me as I fought to keep from unraveling too soon. The combination of his gaze, his touch, and the heat of the sauna was overwhelming, a heady mixture that left me utterly at his mercy.

"You're too quiet, darling," Rhys teased, his voice laced with amusement and dark intent. "I want to hear you. Every gasp, every moan. Every single sound you make when I touch you."

I opened my mouth to respond, but the words never made it past my lips. His hands gripped my hips, pulling me flush against him, and then his mouth descended—kisses and bites trailing down my abdomen, each one setting my nerves alight. When his lips finally found the apex of my thighs, I gasped, my hands flying to his dark, sweat-dampened hair.

"Rhys—"

He hummed against me, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure straight through me. His tongue flicked out, teasing, testing before he gave me everything, his name falling from my lips like a chant. His grip on my hips tightened, holding me steady as he worked me over with infuriating precision like he was savoring every moment, every reaction.

The steam curled around us, the humid air thickening as my body tensed beneath his ministrations. My fingers tangled in his hair, pulling, and the groan that rumbled from him in response only spurred me closer to the edge.

"Good girl," he murmured against me, his voice dark and filled with satisfaction. "So perfect for me."

I could barely process his words, too consumed by the pleasure building inside me, the heat threatening to shatter me entirely. His name spilled from my lips again, broken and desperate, as he pushed me higher and higher, his tongue and fingers working in perfect, devastating harmony.

"Let go," he whispered, his voice low and commanding. "Give it to me."

And I did. The tension coiled within me snapped, pleasure crashing through me like a tidal wave. I cried out his name, my body trembling, my back arching as Rhys held me through every pulse, every wave, his mouth and hands relentless as he wrung every last bit of pleasure from me.

When I finally came down, gasping for breath, he pressed one last lingering kiss to my thigh before rising to his full height. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction, his lips curved in that familiar, wicked smile.

"Attagirl," he murmured, his voice rough and impossibly dark.

And then his hands were on me again, pulling me up against him, his towel dropping to the floor as he claimed my mouth with a ferocity that promised he wasn't nearly finished.

Az - Party

The River House was alive with celebration. Laughter echoed off the high ceilings, mingling with the cheerful notes of a string quartet in the corner. Snow swirled gently outside the windows, the night blanketed in frost and light.

I stood near the refreshments table, sipping a glass of wine, trying my best to focus on the festivities. My brother Cassian's booming laughter carried from somewhere in the room, no doubt entertaining a small crowd with one of his outlandish stories. Mor twirled a glass of mulled wine in hand, her golden gown catching the flicker of candlelight as she chatted with Elain and Feyre.

It was all so... warm. Inviting. But my attention kept drifting to the shadows pooling in the corner of the room. Or, more accurately, to him.

Azriel leaned against the far wall, nursing a glass of something amber-colored. He was dressed in all black, as usual, the tailored jacket and crisp shirt doing sinful things to his broad shoulders. His gaze, sharp and unreadable, was fixed firmly on me.

I knew that look.

I tried not to squirm under the weight of it, but my body betrayed me, heat prickling my skin. I sipped my wine and looked away, pretending to listen to Amren who was telling a story to others. My heart betrayed me too, thudding against my ribs.

A quiet voice, rough with amusement, broke through my thoughts. "You're terrible at pretending I'm not here."

I turned to find Azriel standing just behind me, his shadows coiling lazily around his shoulders. His dark eyes gleamed with a heat that made my breath hitch.

"Can you blame me?" I said softly, tilting my head in challenge. "You've been staring at me all night."

"Because you've been avoiding me all night," he replied, stepping closer.

I glanced around the room, acutely aware of how close he was. If Cassian—or anyone—saw us like this.

"We agreed to keep this quiet," I reminded him, though my voice lacked conviction.

Azriel smirked, his lips quirking in that infuriatingly attractive way that made my knees weak. "You're not making it easy."

"Not here," I ignore his words, my heart racing as his hand brushed against mine, hidden from view.

"Come with me then," he murmured, his voice low enough to send a shiver down my spine.

I barely had time to think before Azriel tightened his grip on my hand, guiding me out of the crowded room. We slipped through the hallways of the River House, the sound of the party fading with every step. My pulse quickened—not from fear of being caught, but from the sheer intensity of his presence.

He stopped in a secluded alcove, moonlight streaming through a frosted window. The silver light cast shadows across his sharp cheekbones, and when he turned to face me, I couldn't look away.

"Az," I whispered, but whatever I meant to say dissolved when he stepped closer, caging me against the wall.

His hand came up, bracing against the wall beside my head. "Do you have any idea how hard it's been to stay away from you tonight?" His voice was rough, and low, sending a bolt of heat straight through me.

"I could say the same," I admitted, my voice soft but steady.

His eyes darkened, his free hand brushing my cheek. "Say the word, and I'll stop."

I didn't hesitate. "Don't."

His lips crashed against mine, and the world fell away.

Azriel kissed like a man starved. His lips were soft but demanding, his hands sliding to my waist, pulling me against him. I tangled my fingers in his hair, gasping as he deepened the kiss.

His tongue found its way into my mouth, pressing me harder into the wall behind me as he explored every inch of me. He couldn't get enough, his shadows were tightening around my thighs, swirling greedily below my dress, up my waist.

He kicked my legs apart, and then his knee was pressed to my pulsing heat and there was nothing I could do then except moan his name and I was grateful for the music playing in the other room otherwise I surely would've been heard.

"As much as I love to hear you moaning my name, I need you to stay quiet," He breathed into my open mouth. "Can you do that for me, love?" He tilted his head slightly.

I nod shakily. "Mm," I whimper.

He flashed a wolfish grin. "That's my girl," He praises, then dips down to put his lips on my neck.

He lifted me effortlessly, positioning me to settle on his thigh, straddling it as his lips trailed down my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin just below my ear.

"Someone's going to catch us," I managed to say, though I didn't sound the least bit convincing.

"Let them." His voice was a growl, his shadows curling around us like a protective cocoon. "Or maybe I'll just make you beg me to stop."

"Not a chance," I shot back, pulling him closer.

His hands tightened on my hips, and when he guided me to grind down, I couldn't hold back the soft moan that escaped. Azriel swallowed the sound with a kiss, his lips, and hands leaving me utterly undone.

His hands gripped my hips with bruising strength, steadying me as I rocked against him. His thigh, solid and unyielding, pressed into the place where I ached most, sending sparks of pleasure curling through me. But it wasn't enough—not yet.

"That's it," Azriel murmured, his voice a low rasp against my ear. "Getting off on my thigh. Such a needy girl."

Heat flared across my cheeks, humiliation sinking deep, but it didn't stop me. I couldn't stop. I rolled my hips again, chasing the friction I so desperately craved.

Azriel's hands slid up, one brushing the bare skin of my thigh beneath my dress, the other reaching to tuck a strand of loose hair behind my ear. The gesture was almost tender, a stark contrast to his taunting words.

"Look at you," he continued, his tone darkly amused. "So desperate for it. You'd let anyone walk in right now and see, wouldn't you?"

"No," I gasped, shaking my head, though my body betrayed me, grinding harder against him.

"No?" he echoed, his lips brushing my jaw. "You sure about that, love? Because you haven't stopped." His teeth grazed my earlobe, a sharp nip that made me shudder.

I buried my face in his neck, trying to hide from the weight of his gaze, but he wouldn't allow it.

"Uh-uh," he growled, one hand gripping my chin and tilting my face back up to him. "Eyes on me. I want to see how much you need this."

A whimper escaped my lips, and he chuckled darkly, his thumb brushing over my flushed cheek. "That's my good girl," he praised, dragging the words out slowly, savoring each one.

The praise, the shame, the molten heat pooling low in my belly—it all coalesced into something heady and all-consuming. My nails dug into his shoulders, and I tried to grind faster, harder, desperate to push myself over the edge.

But Azriel had other plans. His grip tightened on my hips, forcing me to slow.

"Not yet," he murmured, his voice a silken command. "You don't come until I say you can."

I let out a frustrated cry, my forehead dropping against his chest. "Azriel," I pleaded, my voice breathless, needy.

He hummed in mock sympathy, the sound vibrating through his chest. "What's the matter, love? You were doing so well." His thigh flexed beneath me, sending a fresh wave of pleasure coursing through my veins. "Don't tell me you're already close. From just this?"

My face burned, the humiliation sharp and thrilling. I refused to answer, but my silence only made him laugh softly, his shadows curling tighter around us.

"That's what I thought," he said, his tone laced with smug satisfaction. "So desperate. So pretty when you're like this."

"Please," I whispered, the word tumbling from my lips before I could stop it.

His eyes darkened, his smirk growing. "Please, what?"

I hesitated, the words catching in my throat.

"Say it," he urged, his voice dropping to a low, commanding growl. "Tell me what you want, love. Beg for it."

"Please, Az," I whispered again, my voice trembling. "I need—"

"You need what?" he interrupted, making me fumble for words further. His shadows brushed over my legs, teasing the sensitive skin there. "Say it."

"I need to come," I finally admitted, the words tumbling out in a rush.

He let out a low hum, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip. "That's better."

A soft whine escaped me as he guided my hips again but did not tell me I could allow that sweet release to flood me, slow and deliberate, dragging out every second. My thighs burned with effort, my body trembling with the effort of holding back.

"That's it," Azriel murmured, his lips ghosting over my ear. "Keep going. Show me how much you want it."

I rolled my hips again, the friction unbearable, every movement sending me spiraling closer to the edge. But he wouldn't let me fall, his hands controlling every moment, every sensation.

"Good girl," he said, his voice velvet-soft. "You're so close, aren't you?"

"Yes," I gasped, my nails digging into his shoulders. "Please, Azriel—"

"Not yet," he said again, his smirk widening. "Just a little longer, love. I had to wait all night, it's only fair."

Tears pricked my eyes from the effort of holding back, my body taut with need. "Azriel, please," I begged, my voice cracking.

He smiled at the sound, lips finding their place on my neck, sucking and licking where he knew was my most sensitive spot. I whimpered his name, needy and desperate, clawing down his back, bucking my hips against his flexing thigh pathetically, trying to keep the friction while simultaneously holding it at bay.

"Azriel," I cried. "Please, I'll beg? Is that what you want?" I mumbled, teary-eyed, staring up at him through my lashes.

A soft smile cracked his lips, and then he finally relented, his hand sliding beneath my dress to grip my bare thigh. "That's okay love," he murmured, his lips brushing mine. "Let go for me."

I shattered. The release hit me like a tidal wave, pleasure rippling through every nerve as my body tensed, and then melted against him. His name fell from my lips in a broken cry, muffled as he captured my mouth in a searing kiss.

When I finally stilled, trembling in his arms, he pressed his forehead to mine, his breath warm against my skin.

"You're perfect," he murmured, his voice filled with something softer now, more tender.

I smiled weakly, my heart still racing. "You're insufferable."

His laugh was low and quiet, his shadows brushing over my skin in a gentle caress. "And yet, you love me."

I rolled my eyes but didn't argue.

As footsteps echoed faintly down the hallway, Azriel set me back on my feet, smoothing out my dress with careful hands.

I wobbled slightly on my feet, catching my balance despite the ache in my shaky legs.

"You should go back first," he said, his lips quirking into a small smile. "Before someone notices you're missing."

"And what about you?"

He leaned in, pressing a loving kiss to my temple. "I'll go in a few minutes after you, don't want to raise awareness." He smiled crookedly. "And mask your smell," He advises.

I flush deeply, but do as he says, before leaving him in the hall. Looking back only once to see the dark promise in his eyes. Next time it wasn't only going to be his thigh.

Cassian - Unwrap

Cassian toyed with the tassel on my silk robe as I lounged on our bed, my head resting comfortably in his lap while I read. His calloused hand had been stroking lazy patterns along my side, his touch so soothing it made it hard to focus on the words in my book. But then, the silk tassel caught his attention, his fingers snagging the string and giving it a gentle tug.

"You know," he said, his voice low and casual—too casual, which I knew meant trouble. "I never did get a Solstice present from you."

I looked up at him, meeting his hazel gaze. Mischief danced in his eyes, that boyish grin tugging at his lips. Closing my book with a soft thud, I sat up, brushing my hair over my shoulder. "I am your present," I said with a playful smile.

His grin widened, his head tilting in that teasing, infuriating way that made me want to kiss him senseless—and smack him—at the same time. "C'mon, you can't be that lazy."

My lips twitched as I fought a grin, deciding then and there to wipe that smug expression off his face. Without a word, I swung one leg over his lap, settling myself atop him. His large hands instinctively landed on my hips, his thumbs brushing against the silk of my robe.

"No, Cass," I said, leaning closer until my lips ghosted over his. "I am your present."

I watched the shift in his expression as the words sank in, his teasing smirk giving way to something darker, hungrier. Slowly, I dragged my fingers up the column of his neck, tracing the edge of his jaw before guiding one of his hands to the tie of my robe. His breath hitched as he pulled at the silk, the knot unraveling easily under his practiced fingers.

The gray robe slipped open, revealing delicate lace that clung to my skin—a new set of lingerie he'd never seen before. It was a deep, rich red, the exact shade of his siphons, a color I knew drove the possessive side of him wild.

"Oh, sweetheart," he rasped, his voice thick as his eyes roamed over me. His pupils darkened, swallowing the hazel of his irises. I let the robe fall from my shoulders entirely, the fabric pooling around my waist as I leaned back slightly, giving him an unimpeded view.

His gaze devoured me, his hands tightening on my hips as though he needed to anchor himself. "You been hiding this from me all day?" he murmured, his voice strained with the effort it took to hold himself back.

"Maybe," I teased, my fingers weaving into his dark hair, tugging lightly as I leaned down to whisper against his ear, "Go on, Cass. Unwrap your gift."

Cassian didn't need to be told twice. His hands were already moving, sliding up my sides, the heat of his touch searing through the lace as he explored every inch of me. His lips found the sensitive spot at my neck, just beneath my ear, pressing open-mouthed kisses along my skin that made my breath hitch.

"Whatever you want," I sigh softly. "You can do whatever you want to me." I run a hand through his dark hair.

Cassian let out a deep, guttural growl at my words, his lips pausing against the tender skin of my neck. "Don't say things like that unless you mean them, sweetheart," he warned, his voice dark and hoarse, the edge of restraint barely clinging to it.

I arched against him, my fingers threading deeper into his hair. "I mean every word, Cass," I whispered, my voice breathy as I rolled my hips, feeling him hard and ready against me. "You know I do."

His control snapped. One large hand slid up to cup the back of my neck, holding me in place as his mouth captured mine in a kiss that was wild and consuming. His other hand skimmed down my body, calloused fingers tracing over the lace that clung to my skin. The roughness of his touch was a delicious contrast to the soft fabric, and I moaned into his mouth, my body already strung tight with anticipation.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" he murmured against my lips, his voice thick with desire. His fingers slipped under the band of my panties, tearing them off with one swift motion and tossing the ruined lace to the floor. This is what he enjoyed, what I knew he enjoyed. To ravage and take what belonged to him.

I gasped as the cool air hit my heated skin, but Cassian didn't give me time to recover. His lips left mine, trailing down my throat, over the swell of my breasts, before pausing to take one taut peak into his mouth. His tongue swirled around it, his teeth grazing just enough to send a jolt of pleasure straight to my core.

"Cassian," I breathed, my nails digging into his shoulders as his hand slid lower, his fingers dipping between my thighs. He groaned as he found me slick and ready for him, his touch slow and deliberate as he explored every inch of me.

"Fuck, you're perfect," he muttered, his lips moving back up, kissing and nipping a path to my collarbone. As he did so he aligned the leaking head of his cock up with my wet entrance, he paused, his eyes flicking up to meet mine. The intensity of his gaze stole my breath, his hazel eyes dark with hunger.

"Tell me what you want, sweetheart," he said, his voice rough and commanding.

"You," I managed, my voice trembling. "I want you, Cass. Please."

His mouth curved into a wicked smile against my skin. "Good girl."

He pushed into me slowly, stretching me in a way that made my head fall back, a moan escaping my lips. Cassian groaned, his hands gripping my hips as he sank into me fully, his forehead dropping to rest against mine.

"You feel so fucking good," he rasped, his breath coming in ragged pants as he began to move, his hips rolling in a rhythm that had me seeing stars all over again.

The room was filled with the sounds of our pleasure—moans, gasps, the slap of skin against skin. Cassian's name fell from my lips like a prayer, his own curses and praises spilling into the air as he drove us both closer to the edge.

"Look at me," he commanded, his voice rough as his hand gripped my chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze.

My eyes locked with his, and the intensity of his expression—possessive, reverent, utterly consumed. "Whatever I want, right?"

I nod shakily, nails digging into his skin.

He smiles, the sight sinful, eyes blown with just. "Good, I'm g'na come inside you," He purred just below my ear. "You stopped takin' that birth tonic a few weeks ago, yeah?" He asks and I nod again, heat blooming across my face.

"Sweet girl," He coos. "I'm g'na stuff you full, get you pregnant," He rasped huskily. My cunt pulsed with the promise, dripping on his cock as a natural lubricant. "You like that, don't you? Squeezin' me so tight," He muttered, voice hitching as I clenched around him eagerly.

"Yes, yes, please. Fill me up."

Cassian's sinful smile only deepened, his breath hot against my ear as he thrust into me with a new intensity. The bed creaked beneath us, his hips snapping forward in a way that had me crying out his name.

"Yeah, that's it," he groaned, his voice low and gravelly. His lips brushed over the shell of my ear, his words punctuated by the rhythmic slap of his body against mine. "Gonna fill you so full, sweetheart. Make you mine in every way."

I could feel the heat pooling low in my stomach, the way my body responded to his every word, his every touch. "Cass," I gasped, my nails raking down his broad back as he pinned me beneath him, a knot already forming. "Please."

"Please what?" he murmured, his forehead dropping to rest against mine as his thrusts grew harder, deeper.

"Please," My voice failed me, words coming out in a pitiful whimper. "More."

"Yeah? Begging for more?" He smiled, leaning down and capturing my needy noises with his mouth, his tongue already finding its way inside, exploring every inch of me.

He pulled away after a moment, sensing I needed to breathe. "You're taking me so well, squeezing me so tight. You were made for me, weren't you?"

"Yes," I cried, the overwhelming pleasure forcing my back to arch off the mattress. "Only for you, Cassian."

His groan was pure sin, his pace relentless as his hand slid down my body, his thumb circling the sensitive bundle of nerves between my thighs. The added stimulation sent me over the edge, my orgasm crashing over me like a tidal wave. My vision blurred as I clenched around him, my cries filling the room as my body trembled beneath his.

"That's my girl," Cassian growled, his voice thick with pride and possession. He didn't stop, his hips driving into me with a ferocity that bordered on desperation. "You're so perfect like this. Wrecked for me."

I felt him twitch inside me, the telltale sign that he was close. His thrusts became erratic, his breathing ragged as he buried himself deep, groaning my name like a prayer.

"Gonna give you all of it," he rasped, his voice strained as his release hit him, hot and thick, filling me completely. "Gonna make sure it takes." He grunted, fucking it deep into me, his tip brushing against my cervix.

His words sent a fresh wave of heat through me, the idea of him claiming me in such an intimate way only adding to the bliss coursing through my body. Cassian made no move of pulling out, seeming content to keep his seed deep inside of me.

"You're mine," he murmured, his lips brushing over my temple as he held me close. "Always."

I smiled, my fingers tracing lazy patterns over his chest. "Always," I echoed, content to let the world fall away as I stayed wrapped in his arms, knowing the night was far from over.

Lucien - Stockings

Lucien had stripped me down to my socks. Literally. The delicate thigh-high stockings I wore remained on as I wrapped my legs around his hips, pulling him closer. His clothed cock was hard, the heat of him brushing against my soaked, bare folds in a tormenting tease. I whined pitifully, bucking my hips in desperation for more. For him.

"Patience, fawn," he chided, a wicked grin tugging at his lips as his warm, calloused hands pinned my hips down to the bed. His amber eye glinted in the candlelight, a smoldering ember against his freckled skin. The other, his metal eye, whirred faintly, locking onto every twitch of my body, every subtle plea I made for him.

"Lucien," I whimpered, voice breathless, needy. My head fell back into the plush pillows as his mouth began its sinful descent, trailing slow, heated kisses down the curve of my neck. His lips were deliberate, slow, savoring every inch of skin as though he had all the time in the world to ruin me.

"You're gorgeous like this," he murmured against my skin, his voice thick and dripping with lust. "All laid out for me, helpless, begging." One of his hands slipped from my hip to glide along the underside of my thigh, his thumb brushing over the lace bow at the top of my stocking. His touch was reverent as if worshiping me were second nature.

When he'd first seen me in these stockings, I barely managed to speak before he had me bare beneath him, as if the mere sight of me was enough to drive him feral. Now, as his mouth moved lower, his teeth grazed the swell of my breast. His tongue flicked over a hardened nipple, eliciting a sharp gasp from me.

"Lucien," I cried, arching into him as he sucked the sensitive bud into his mouth. His tongue swirled in tight, maddening circles, leaving me trembling beneath him. He released me with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting his lips to my skin as he continued his journey downward.

He gathered my thighs like I was melting in his hands, draping them over his broad, muscular shoulders. His head dipped, fiery hair spilling across my skin as he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses to the delicate flesh of my inner thighs. I felt his teeth tugging at the top of one stocking, pulling it down in slow, deliberate movements until it was folded in the crease of my knee.

"You drive me mad," he growled, his voice rough, raw with hunger. "Your body, your taste." He kissed closer, dangerously close to where I wanted him most. I was quivering beneath him, my body a live wire, every nerve ending alight as he teased me mercilessly.

And then he bit.

Sharp canines sank into the tender flesh of my inner thigh. Pain and pleasure collided, white-hot and electric, and I screamed, my back arching off the bed. My hands shot to his hair, tangling in the silken strands, pulling as I cried out his name. "Lucien." The sound was a broken plea, my brows creasing as I felt warm liquid trickle down my thigh.

He groaned at the taste, his tongue swiping over the wound to catch every drop. The flat of his tongue soothed the sting, leaving me trembling in his hold. Deep enough to scar, a mark of him burned into my flesh. A claim. The thought alone had me clenching around nothing, my eyes fluttering shut as heat coiled low in my belly.

"You're mine," he rumbled, his lips brushing the fresh mark. "No one will ever touch you like this, and if they do..." He smirked. "They'll see this mark, mine."

And then his mouth descended to where I needed him most.

The first drag of his tongue along my slick heat was devastating. I cried out, my fingers tightening in his hair as he licked into me, slow and deliberate, savoring every taste. His nose nudged against my sensitive clit, drawing another desperate moan from my lips.

"Lucien," I whimpered, my thighs trembling on his shoulders. He growled against me, the vibration sending sparks of pleasure rippling through my body.

"You're so sweet, fawn," he murmured, his voice muffled by the slick heat of me. "Every part of you, perfect."

He wrapped his arms around my thighs, pulling me closer as his tongue worked me over with an intensity that left me breathless. Every stroke, every swirl, every scrape of his teeth against my swollen clit unraveled me further. He feasted on me like a man starved, drinking in every sound I made, every shiver of my body beneath him.

Lucien's name spilled from my lips like a prayer, over and over, each syllable broken by gasps and whimpers. My body was no longer my own; it was his, entirely, completely. He had me unraveling, falling apart with every skilled flick of his tongue and every deep, guttural growl rumbling through him as he consumed me.

"Such a pretty girl, being so loud for me," He purrs against my heat.

I shuddered at his words, my fingers clawing at the sheets, at his hair, at anything that could anchor me as he drew me higher and higher. His teeth grazed my clit, a sharp jolt of pleasure-pain that had me crying out, my hips bucking against his face. He laughed softly, the sound smug and intoxicating.

"You're close, aren't you?" he teased, the heat of his breath fanning against my slick core. "I can feel you trembling for me, fawn. Feel how badly your body wants to give in."

"Yes," I gasped, barely able to form the word. "Lucien, please."

"Please, what?" His tone was all wicked amusement as he pressed a kiss to the sensitive bundle of nerves, so light it was almost maddening. "Use your words."

I whimpered, my thighs quivering as he kissed me again, harder this time, his tongue swirling around the swollen bud. "Please make me come," I begged, my voice desperate, raw. "Lucien, please—"

He didn't make me wait. With one last growl, he sucked hard, his tongue relentless as he pushed me over the edge. My climax hit me like a storm, violent and all-consuming, every nerve in my body alight with fire. I cried out his name, the sound echoing in the room as waves of pleasure crashed over me, leaving me shaking and boneless beneath him.

Lucien didn't stop, didn't let up as he worked me through every pulse, every aftershock. Only when I was a trembling mess did he finally pull away, his lips glistening with my release, his amber eye blazing with pride and hunger. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smirking as he crawled up my body.

"You're beautiful like this," he murmured, his voice low, reverent, as he cupped my flushed cheek. "Ruined for anyone else."

I barely had time to catch my breath before I felt the heavy press of his cock against my entrance. My eyes fluttered open, meeting his as he leaned down to kiss me, slow and deep, letting me taste myself on his lips.

"Lucien," I whispered against his mouth, the word half a plea, half a surrender.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his metal eye whirring softly as he studied my face. "Say it, fawn," he said, his voice a rough rasp. "Say you're mine."

"I'm yours," I breathed, the truth of it settling deep in my chest. "Only yours."

His lips curved into a feral grin, satisfaction and possession flickering across his features. "Good girl."

And then he pushed into me, slow and unyielding, stretching me inch by inch until I was utterly filled, utterly his.

Eris - Cold

"You're so warm," I sigh contentedly, nuzzling into my mate's neck. The blizzard that swept through Autumn had knocked out the house's heating system days ago, leaving the usually cozy manor cloaked in an unfamiliar chill.

I wasn't used to the cold, not while hailing from the Summer Court, where warmth was as constant as the tide. Last night, I'd curled up by the hearth, shivering until Eris found me, gently scolding me for not coming to bed. Part of me suspected he could've fixed the heating system with a flick of his wrist, yet he hadn't. He wanted me close, pressed against him, and I couldn't deny him.

Now, wrapped in his arms, my thin nightgown felt like a poor barrier against the fire that pulsed through his veins. His shirtless torso radiated the kind of heat I craved, but even that wasn't enough. Not for the bone-deep chill that still lingered. Not for the ache I felt blooming low in my stomach. I needed that warmth to be a part of me, inside of me.

I burrowed closer, letting out a soft sigh. "Eris," I breathed, tightening my hold around his chest.

He hummed, half awake, his chin resting atop my head. His voice was rough with sleep when he murmured, "Hmm?"

"I'm still cold," I huffed, a pout tugging at my lips.

He shifted slightly, his fingers trailing lazy patterns down my back. "Well, we can't really get much closer," he mumbled.

A flicker of frustration bubbled in my chest. "Can you..." I hesitated, unsure how to ask for what I wanted. My cheeks burned as I clung to him, the words caught in my throat.

"If you want me to fuck you, just say so, my love," he said bluntly, his tone a soft, teasing drawl that sent heat rushing to my face.

I tilted my head up to meet his gaze, my breath hitching as his amber eyes glinted with unspoken promises. Lifting slightly, I pressed my lips to his, the kiss tender yet brimming with unspoken need. Warmth bloomed in my cheeks as his hands moved to my waist, guiding me onto his lap.

I straddled him, my knees bracketing his hips as he pulled me closer, his heat seeping into my skin. His lips left mine to trail desperate, frantic kisses down my jaw, and I let out a soft whimper at the sensation.

"I want you to fuck me," I confessed, my voice trembling with need.

His groan was low and guttural, vibrating through his chest. "That wasn't so hard, was it sweetheart?"

Eris's hands slid up my thighs, gathering the fabric of my nightgown until it bunched around my hips. His touch was fire itself, scorching in its intensity as he ran his fingers over my bare skin. I shivered, not from the cold, but from the delicious contrast of heat and chill that had my body alight.

"You're freezing," he murmured, his brows furrowing as his hands moved to grip my hips. "Let's warm you up, yeah?"

Before I could answer, his lips captured mine again, more demanding this time. His tongue swept into my mouth, coaxing soft moans from me as he rolled his hips against mine. The friction sent sparks of pleasure coursing through me, but it wasn't enough. I needed more.

"Eris," I gasped, breaking the kiss to look at him. "Please."

His lips curved into a wicked smile. "Patience, my love," he purred, his hands sliding to cup my ass as he pulled me flush against him. "I'm going to warm every inch of you."

I let out a breathless laugh. "You're taking too long."

He raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Is that so?"

Before I could respond, one of his hands dipped between us, his fingers brushing over my soaked core. I let out a strangled gasp, my head falling back as he teased me through the thin fabric of my panties.

"Already so wet for me," he murmured, his voice thick with pride and desire. "So desperate."

I bit my lip, grinding against his hand in search of more friction. "Eris," I whined, my voice breaking as his fingers pushed the fabric aside. "Need more."

He pulled his fingers from me, and I let out a noise of protest, but it quickly turned into a gasp as he flipped us effortlessly. I was on my back now, with him looming over me, his firey hair tousled and his eyes blazing with heat.

"You'll have me, love," he promised, his voice thick with need. "Every inch of me."

Eris shifted, freeing himself from the confines of his pants. My eyes dropped to him, my breath catching at the sight of his length, hard and ready for me. He smirked, clearly enjoying my reaction, before leaning down to capture my lips again.

His body pressed against mine, his heat wrapping around me like a cocoon. As he positioned himself at my entrance, I braced myself, my body already trembling with anticipation.

"Such a needy girl," He tuts beside my ear, kissing my jaw. "You need this so bad, huh?" he whispered, his voice a molten caress.

"Yes, yes Eris," I breathe, and his smile against my skin makes my stomach churn.

And without another word, he thrust into me, filling me completely until I was engulfed in the flames of our desire.

Eris groaned low in his throat as he sank fully into me, his warmth spreading through every inch of my body. My breath hitched, my hands clutching at his shoulders as he stilled for a moment, letting me adjust to the fullness. His lips brushed against my jawline, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down my neck.

"You take me so well," he murmured, his voice rough, a low rumble of molten heat that seemed to pool low in my stomach. "So perfect for me."

I moaned softly, rolling my hips to encourage him to move. He didn't make me wait long. His first thrust was slow and deliberate, dragging against every sensitive part of me, and I cried out, arching beneath him.

"That's it, my love," he groaned, his hand slipping beneath my thigh to hitch it higher around his waist. His fiery magic flared where his skin met mine, a warm pulse that sent shivers racing through me despite the heat.

But Eris wasn't satisfied with just that. A faint glow sparked at his fingertips, and the fire coiled around my leg, pinning it higher against his side. The sensation was incredible—hot but never painful, as if his flame had become an extension of him. The warmth radiated through me, loosening every muscle, chasing away the last vestiges of the chill that had settled in my bones.

"Can you feel it?" he rasped, his thrusts deep and unrelenting now, filling me over and over with a pace that left me gasping. "You feel me fucking the heat back into you, baby?"

"Yes," I whimpered, my hands clawing at his back, desperate to anchor myself as the pleasure built, as his fire seemed to seep deeper, consuming me whole.

The glow of his magic reflected in his amber eyes, which burned with a feral intensity. His hand cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing over my skin as his lips claimed mine again. The kiss was searing, just like the rest of him, leaving me breathless.

"You're mine," he growled against my lips, his voice deep and possessive. "All mine."

"I'm yours," I gasped, my voice trembling with the force of my desire. "All yours, Eris."

The way his body tensed told me he was close, and I was right there with him, the pleasure coiling tighter with each thrust, each pulse of heat that spread from his magic.

"Come for me, love," he demanded, his hand slipping between us to find that sensitive bundle of nerves. His touch sent me hurtling over the edge, and I cried out his name as the release shattered through me. My body tightened around him, drawing a deep groan from his throat.

His rhythm faltered as he followed, his fire flaring bright as he spilled inside me. The heat was intoxicating, a rush that spread through my entire body, filling me with a warmth so profound it felt like I might melt. He buried his face in my neck, his breaths heavy and uneven as he rode out his climax.

When he finally stilled, the only sound in the room was the mingling of our ragged breaths. He pressed a lingering kiss to my collarbone, his hands stroking soothing patterns over my sides.

"Warm enough now?" he murmured, a teasing lilt in his voice.

I let out a breathless laugh, still basking in the afterglow. "More than enough."

Eris chuckled, the sound low and satisfied, as he pulled from me—and I immediately missed the warmth, watching as he propped himself up on one elbow to look down at me. His amber eyes still glowed faintly with the remnants of his magic.

"Autumn males really do have fire in their veins," I murmured, my voice soft, I reached up and placed a hand on his cheek, swiping my thumb over the teasing smirk forming on his lips.

"That we do, my love," he said, leaning down to kiss me again. "And it's all yours."

SFW version here -> link

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[cosmicporos]

What would Arcane characters call their partner? What pet/nicknames would they use?

AHHHH THIS IS SO CUTE! Thank you anon :3

Synopsis: A lot of little cut scenarios where arcane characters call you by cute pet names!

Characters: Sevika, Vander, Silco, Caitlyn, Ekko, Viktor

((awkward Ekko x reader, Teasing Viktor x reader (he called you an airhead…))

Warning: Angst for Silco, called you “Pet” but ends with comfort!

Not proofread

Sevika

Nicknames for you: Darling, Dear, Sweet thing, Babe, Dove.

Okay maybe I’m over sentimental but imagine her calling you Dove because you bring her so much peace in life. So you’re quite literally her little peace dove.

Sevika leaned against the bar, her mechanical arm resting on the counter as she watched you move around the room. It wasn't anything special-just you tidying up after a long day-but to her, it was everything. "You know," she started, her voice low and gravelly, "you've got this way of makin' the world feel... quieter."

You paused, glancing at her with a small smile. "Yeah? That a good thing?"

She smirked, pushing off the bar to walk toward you. "It's a damn miracle, is what it is. You don't know what it's like Dove… how loud it gets up here." She tapped her temple with a finger, her gaze softening. "But then you show up, and it's like everything just... stops."

Your cheeks warmed at the sincerity in her voice, but you kept your focus on folding a stray cloth. "I didn't think I was doing anything special."

Sevika snorted, stepping closer. "That's the thing. You don't even try, and still... you're it for me. My peace. My little Dove."

Vander

Nicknames for you: Peach, Love, Sweet Pea, Darling, Sunshine, Lass/Lad.

The Last Drop was unusually quiet. The usual clatter of mugs and background chatter of conversation was replaced by the occasional cough or sniffle from the makeshift beds spread around the common room. Powder, Mylo, Claggor, and Vi lay bundled in blankets, their fevered faces flushed as they sipped the herbal tea Vander had brewed.

"Peach," Vander called softly, his deep voice cutting through the stillness as he approached you. You were perched on a low stool, dabbing a cool cloth against Powder's forehead. He knelt beside you, resting his broad hand on your shoulder. "You've been fussin' over them all day. Why don't you take a break, huh? Let me handle things for a while."

"I'm fine," you said, though your hands trembled slightly as you wrung out the cloth."They need us."

He tilted his head, giving you that steady, knowing look of his. "And I need you to take care of yourself, Peach. You're no good to anyone if you run yourself into the ground."

Powder stirred, her small hand reaching out to grab yours. "Don't go," she mumbled, her voice weak.

You smoothed her hair back, glancing at Vander. "See? They need me."

Vander sighed, his lips twitching into a faint smile despite himself. "Stubborn as ever," he muttered. "Alright, Peach. We'll do this together, then."

Silco

Nicknames for you: Darling, Precious, lovely, Pet, Beloved.

After Jinx’s fiasco over at Topside it was obvious Silco was more than simply stressed.

In fact tension in the room was palpable, suffocating as it weighed down on your chest. Silco's piercing gaze bore into you, his lips pressed into a thin line. You'd overstepped-at least, in his mind-and now his sharp tongue was letting you know it.

"Stay out of matters you don't understand, pet," he snapped, the word cutting and cold as it left his mouth.

You flinched, the sting of his words settling deep. Your jaw clenched, and you refused to meet his gaze, instead focusing on the cracked edge of the table.

“I was—I was only thinking about Jinx.” You gulped down the bile that burned in your throat. “Temporary keeping her from missions is keeping her safe.” You spoke finally looking up at him with your wet pathetic eyes.

The silence that followed was deafening. Silco's breath hitched as he realized what he'd said, the regret settling in almost immediately. His tone had been cruel, and the look on your face drove a pang of guilt through his chest.

“I apologize…” he said softly, his voice no longer harsh. "That was... uncalled for." He spoke as he stood up, fixing his cuffs as he walks over towards you.

Silco stepped closer until he was within arm's reach. "I shouldn't have said that. You didn't deserve it," he murmured, his voice low and steady. “You mean too much to me for me to speak to you that way."

When you still didn't respond, he hesitated for a moment before tilting your chin up with his gloved fingers, forcing your eyes to meet his mismatched ones.

"Forgive me," he whispered, his tone sincere. "You are not my pet. You are my beloved. The only one who stands beside me, who understands me."

Caitlyn

Nicknames for you: Petal, Cheeky one, Muffin, Trouble, Dearest.

Flour completely dusted the countertop and your face as you tried to knead the dough. Caitlyn stood across from you, her sleeves rolled up, an amused smile playing on her lips.

"Petal," she said, tilting her head, "you're supposed to knead it, not wrestle it."

You huffed, brushing flour from your cheek. “It's sticking to my hands! I’m not sure how else I’m supposed to tackle this.”

Caitlyn chuckled and walked over, gently taking your hands in hers. "Here, let me show you." She guided your movements, her hands warm and steady.

When the dough finally started to cooperate, you couldn't resist smearing a bit of flour on her cheek. She froze, then slowly raised an eyebrow. “Trouble," she murmured, her voice teasing.

You grinned, backing away. "You love it."

Her soft laugh filled the kitchen as she grabbed a handful of flour. "Oh, I do. But you're not getting away with that."

Ekko

Nicknames for you: Firefly, Sugar, babe, baby, Cutie

You sat on a spinning chair in ekko’s workshop mindlessly spinning while watching him work. He was trying to fix a circuit board, but his focus seemed to drift in your direction. You caught him glancing at you a few times, his brow furrowed as though he was thinking of something important.

After a moment of silence, Ekko cleared his throat, his usual confidence wavering slightly. He set down his tools and looked at you with a small smile, hands shoved into his pockets. "Hey, uh... can I tell you something?" he asked, voice a little too casual.

You raised an eyebrow at his sudden and strange behavior. "Sure. What's up?"

He scratched the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. "Well, I've been meaning to call you something... I dunno, it's just, uh, you're always so sweet, you know?" He glanced up at you briefly, cheeks turning faintly pink. “So, I was thinking... Sugar?"

There was a long, awkward pause. You blinked, processing the nickname, unsure how to respond. "Sugar?" you repeated, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Really?"

Ekko's face reddened even more. "Yeah, I mean-because, uh, you're sweet... like sugar? You know?" He shrugged, clearly flustered now. "It's not like, weird, right?"

You couldn't help it you laughed, the sound light and teasing, but not unkind. "I don't know, Ekko. It's a bit... unexpected," you said, still grinning.

His gaze shifted, suddenly looking embarrassed. "Okay, okay, I get it. That was dumb, huh? Just trying to be smooth, but I guess it's not my thing." He shifted uncomfortably.

against his arm, your smile softening. "It's cute," you said, voice warm. "But I think you can do better."

He met your eyes, a sheepish grin finally breaking through his awkwardness. "Yeah? You think so?…Well, I'll keep working on it then."

Viktor

Nicknames for you: Beautiful, Trinket, Dearest, Cheeky, Airhead, Sweetling.

You were fiddling with a complicated piece of tech, the gears and wires all tangled in a way that made your focus drift. Viktor stood beside you, watching with a raised eyebrow as you muttered to yourself.

"Careful, darling," he teased with a sly smile, his voice smooth and mature. "An airhead might break something important."

You shot him a playful glare, a little flustered. “I'm not an airhead! Besides…I'm working on it!" you said, trying to hide the embarrassment in your voice.

Viktor chuckled, reaching over and gently fixing the wires with practiced hands. His tone softened as he met your gaze. "I didn't mean it, Sweetling. You're far from an airhead. You just... get a little lost in your thoughts sometimes." He smiled warmly. “And I think it's kind of endearing."

You felt your heart warm at his change in tone, the teasing replaced by something far more tender. "Geez thanks, Viktor." You pouted and sighed out quietly.

He smiled and chuckled softly, his hand now brushing against yours. "Anything for you, Sweetling."

HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED IT<3 thanks so much for all the support on my last post :>

FEEL FREE TO LEAVE A REQUEST AND COMMENT IF YOU ENJOYED IT! (I love reading comments and any feedback!)

[againaweasel]

“We know nothing about canon Remus-“

My brother in Christ we know he sleeps with his mouth slightly open

He snorts in his sleep sometimes

That even tho his belongings are falling apart the knots and stitches he puts around things are meticulously neat and tidy (controlling what he can control)

That after a full moon he’s so exhausted he can sleep all day

His voice is hoarse

He can do (or at least it’s implied) wandless magic to create flames

His first response to an attacker is to talk to it (and be real sassy with it)

He’s competent enough to get rid of said attacker

He gives away the cure to dementors but doesn’t seem to eat any himself

He smiles a whole lot, considering

He can go from asleep to perfectly alert in seconds

He’s sickly looking to the point “a good curse would finish him off”

He’s likely thin

He has his name on his suitcase but the lettering is old and worn suggesting he’s been called Professor before (likely as a joke but we can’t tell that quite yet)

He looks young despite grey hair, it’s noticeable that he’s been prematurely aged

He’ll take responsibility and check in with the driver

He’ll write to pomfrey to tell her that a student is hurt

And this is just Chapter 5 of PoA- when he’s asleep for 90% of the chapter! Imagine the shit we get when he’s awake

[evieelyzabethh]

"chateu"

⭒is it a dream or is it all in the past, i just thought i'd ask"⭒ Arcane characters and comfort {fem reader}

cast ✧ Vi, Ekko, Jayce, Viktor, Mel

cw☞ slightly pervy jayce, mentions of period sex, a bunch of fluff, that's about it

♞Vi♞

♞Vi's comfort is both physical and verbal. Vi is constantly in awe of you, she can't fathom the idea of you thinking you're less than, too dumb, not pretty enough, not worthy enough. She is also very aware. She's a watcher and a listener. She is very good at getting to the root of the rot, she knows that it's not just this one occurrence, it's a reaction caused by something deeper within you. I feel like Vi is much more emotionally intelligent than a lot of people give her credit for, it's just not knowing how to carry it out.

♞I feel like sometimes, she wouldn't get frustrated, but it would take a bit of a toll on her when you aren't as perceptive as she is. Sometimes it takes a lot of walking through the process to get you to understand what she's telling you. She is more than willing and does praise you until she's blue in the face, but she realizes that sometimes words from an outside source can't fix anything if you don't believe it yourself.

♞This applies to larger problems, but Vi would also be good on occasions if you were simply having a bad day. As someone who's had a bad life, she knows how you feel. You want to be left alone for a bit? She completely understands. You just want a hug? She is there with open arms and immediately chides you the second you try to apologize for getting snot on her jacket.

♞Speaking of which, Vi hugs are one of the most comforting hugs you can ever receive. She's just so warm and big and you are completely surrounded by her as she cradles your head into your chest and hums in your ear. She just has such a calming voice; her presence itself is comforting. I also think she would shed a few tears herself when comforting you. It heals the part of her that couldn't save Powder. She holds a lot of guilt about that, so much so that her comfort to you feels rehearsed, like she's been repeating those reassurances for years.

♞As much as you need comforting, Vi would need her fair share too. She never let go of that big sister/leader persona, she thinks her problems are too small compared to the world around her. She tries to fix her problems with logic to push down her feelings and most definitely is someone who thinks that letting those big feelings out is unproductive. This being said, you don't get a chance to comfort Vi until it becomes too much for even her to handle and she randomly breaks down.

♞Comfort is very foreign to her. The last time she received it consistently and healthily was from Vander and then her life went to shit, and she was thrown in prison for like a decade. Stillwater is not a nurturing environment, Zaun certainly wasn't either, even the comfort she received from Vander was more akin to tough love rather than something softer. She can be soft with you, but she finds it hard to accept it herself. It's a battle for her to just be in your arms and allow you to tell her its ok. She knows it'll be okay because she's gonna fight like hell to make sure it's ok. She hates feeling out of control. She's not used to someone trying to fix things for her; she's not used to someone being there for her.

♞She has a lot of tears to get out. Vi has built high walls of anger, but below that is a chasm of sorrow. When she finally breaks down, it feels like an endless stream of tears until she physically cannot cry anymore and is forced to heave in your arms until she either falls asleep or sits in silence, empty. It's very overwhelming, but she can't deny that when she can catch her breath, she feels brand new.

★Ekko★

★Ekko may not be a doctor, but he's a chef which makes the experience more than bearable. The second he sees your complexion get sickly, your wincing every time you move, and your coughs getting more and more phlegmy, he is immediately freaking out. He's running to get a thermometer, he's rifling through the medicine cabinet for whatever the canon equivalent of NyQuil is, he has a trash can set by the bedside in case you begin to feel nauseous.

★Despite his preparedness, I don't think Ekko is great at being sick or being around the sick. It feels like an utter waste of time, waiting around in the house for the illness to pass. Sickness is one of those issues you can't be active in fighting, the best action is to rest and sweat it out, and he is so antsy. It's a lot better if you're sick, you can't lie to him and try to pretend you're well when you aren't. Even if you try and fight him on it, you don't make it very far. Your achy joints keep you up at night, making you completely exhausted throughout the day. Your headache is so debilitating you have spots in your vision. Your throat is so sore, it physically pains you to argue with him about how you're totally not sick and he's being a complete mother hen.

★No; no matter how hard you protest, you are absolutely bed bound as Ekko works warm soup down your gullet even when you can't stomach it yourself but the rational part of you knows it'll make you feel better. The warm green tea he brings you has some tonic dissolved into it; the medicinal taste covered by a few tablespoons of sugar to avoid the bitter bite. He doesn't even flinch when you cough or sneeze into yet another tissue which is soon to be added to the growing pile in the trash. He only wraps you tighter, so you sweat out your fever faster while softly rubbing your aching shoulders. The thought of getting sick does cross his mind, but he's more preoccupied with his poor girl.

★A surprise to no one, Ekko gets sick right after you do, though he is far less compliant. He knows that you see right through his bullshit excuses. Babe, I don't have a fever, I always run hot. What do you mean I have a bad cough? I've just been clearing my throat. I don't get sick; I have too good of an immune system. I never been sick a day in my life. Even worse, he truly believes it himself. In truth, Ekko isn't someone who gets sick often, it's usually one bad bug every year or so. When he does get sick, it usually lasts a few weeks, the first being very mild and then eventually whittling him down to a bed-bound state.

★His bug only worsens the annoyance he feels when sick, you're almost glad when he loses the energy to argue back when you tell him to lie down. When Ekko's sick, it feels more like date nights than a hospital trip. Ekko can't stand silence or boredom which means a movie is playing for as long as he's bed bound. Aside from his mucous infested coughs, his constant shuddering through multiple layers of blankets, and a bowl of soup instead of popcorn; you could barely tell that this wasn't a movie date.

★If there is one thing Ekko enjoys about being sick, it's being taken care of. After he swallows his pride and that disgusting cough medicine, he can appreciate being doted on. Even though he's sick, he'll use a fake yawn as an excuse to wrap his arm around you and ask do you come 'round here often? His joking attitude is usually a good sign that his weeks in hell have finally passed and the light at the end of the tunnel (post sickness kisses) are finally on the table.

❂Jayce ❂

❂Someone once made a joke that Jayce would be the type to make a post on twitter like "I just found out about how bad period pain is. Can't believe our beautiful women go through that every month. If only I could go through periods for them, so they no longer have to suffer (I'm 6'7 btw)" and, well...yes! On a more serious note, I don't think he'd be the type to be super on top of it. He's too busy to have something like a calendar tracking it, though when the time comes, he's very quick to act. While he may be unprepared, he's not incompetent.

❂As soon as you tell him you started, he switches the light bed sheets to darker ones. All he needs is a list of your needs, your preference on pads or tampons or menstrual cups, if you wear them, what size pad you need, heating pads, pain meds, anything and everything you may need is currently being bought. He also isn't the type to be ashamed to go to the register with it, he truly does not think it's a big deal and is confused at any sort of weird stares he gets.

❂He is also over cautious. The second you look like a little woozy, he's right by your side asking if you need to sit down. He's standing around the bathroom while you shower genuinely scared you might pass out due to the amount of blood loss. I don't think he's squeamish around blood, but I do think he'd constantly worry that it's too much. Like how are you still alive after bleeding that much for like a week straight 12 times a year?! He thinks the female body is a scientific wonder.

❂He's also great when it comes to the emotional component. The second your hormones get out of whack, and you start to think too hard about your bloating or ragged you look or how weak you feel, he's right there with a large warm hand on your tummy telling you that you are being ridiculous. His very scientific brain comes in handy, something about his calming voice telling you exactly what your body is doing sounds enough like a documentary to put you to sleep.

❂If you work in the lab with him, he offers to let you skip work for the week, being completely surprised if you insist on still coming in. He does his best to accommodate you, going the extra mile to pack your lunch and making you sure you eat it, ensuring that you're staying on top of your water, he brings pain killers with him in case your cramps get too bad. You and Viktor roll your eyes a bit at his antics. You try to assure him you've had a period for years at this point and it's really not that big of a deal, but he insists on it anyway. All he knows is that you're in pain and he doesn't like that.

❂Now, pre-apocalypse Jayce does not do period sex. You're already hurting, and he while he read that sex can help with cramps, he also knows you're super sensitive and that stretch is going to hurt even worse. If you asked, he'd oblige, making sure to be extra soft and gentle, only pushing half-way in as he coos and brushes the hot tears from your eyes. Post-apocalypse Jayce is far less careful. I wouldn't say he doesn't care, but he understands the concept of a little bit of pain for a lot of pleasure. He's still sweet, carefully covering your sheets with layers of towels and folding a couple under your hips, but his strokes could convince you he's trying to fuck your period away. You'd be lying if you said you didn't feel better after, though.

☽Viktor☾

☽Viktor is not one to beat around the bush at all; he never even liked the man to begin with. It started with something small, like the lack of effort he put into dates or forgetting your birthday, and ever since then things just snowballed until every offense was break-up worthy to him. He didn't hold the door open? Break up with him. He was a bit too flirty with the waitress when you went out to eat? Break up with him! You caught him talking to his ex? BREAK UP WITH HIM!

☽Before the breakup, he is not soft about it at all. The first few gossip sessions were all fun and games but the more you talked about him, the more his dislike grows until he hates the guy and he's only physically seen him a couple times. He refuses to even be in the same room as the man, he says it's because the mere thought of him literally makes him sick and he's sure seeing his actual face will genuinely kill him.

☽He doesn't know what you see in him, and neither do you after the fact. Hindsight really is 20/20. Viktor truly isn't that great with comfort until he sees how seriously upset you are. You're crying over a tub of ice cream with a rom com playing in the background as you blubber about how all of your relationships fall apart and you just don't know where you went wrong, and he's truly confounded on how you're this upset over a toad.

☽This all being said, he's very supportive. It's a lot of work to swallow his sarcastic remarks and roll his eyes less, but the sincerity of his comfort is very easy. It's not instinctual for him to sit there while you cry in his arms, but the kind words he murmurs, you deserve better than that, you deserve a love greater than you even ask for, you deserve even more than the world, you deserve the better world he wants to create. And he doesn't want to sound smarmy or jealous, like some loser who was waiting in the wings for the breakup even Jayce saw coming from a mile away, but if he cared less about what you thought of him; he'd say you deserve him.

☽He realizes it's much too soon, so he buys you ice cream and tells you that you look pretty even when your mascara is running, and your hair is in a state of disarray, and he genuinely means it. He's most valuable for his honesty, it's why you came to Viktor in the first place. He was always honest about how he felt about your ex, even when he was holding his tongue, his expression said all the words he was too nice to say. So, when he tells you that yes, you're still pretty, he may be holding back.

☽It helps that he's funny and can be a tad impulsive. You want to slash his tires? Only slash 3 so that his insurance doesn't cover it. You wanna burn his clothes? He'll make you a pocket flamethrower just to do so. Even better than being open to violence and destruction, he's great at not getting caught. Though he doesn't believe in lying to you, dishonesty drips from his lips like honey.

☽When the crying and the disappointment fades and you feel good enough to joke about how you wasted too much of your time on a man outrunning wisdom, Viktor does slowly try to show you exactly what you deserve.

☼Mel☼

☼While Mel knows the importance of the exterior, she thinks its utterly ridiculous that you can think you aren't pretty enough. She knows insecurities are hard. 'The grass is greener on the other side' really isn't the comfort most people think it is. Sometimes it's well worth it to face the consequences of achieving what you've wanted. Whatever it is, acne, being flat chested, noticeable scars, being different is just hard. It doesn't matter how much your differences make you unique, it really is easier to be like everyone else.

☼She tells you every chance she gets how beautiful she thinks you are. To pretend that inside beauty is all that matters is simply a lie, she interacts daily with people whose heads are full of air, but people only respect them because they are a pretty face with full pockets. She knows it sounds untrue to you, but that's why she tells you so often. Not in despite of anything, not because of anything, you're just stunning.

☼Since you're already hyper-focused on your insecurity, I think she'd ignore it. Honestly, she doesn't think of it at all. It's about as noticeable to her as the color of your eyes or how tall you are, it's a miniscule detail that doesn't define you, it's just another feature. It's nothing important to her, and she wishes it didn't bother you.

☼While you are all adults, she knows that some lack the decorum necessary to not make their judgements known and it bothers her deeply. Anytime anyone speaks on it, she rolls her eyes. She thoroughly thinks it's beneath you to be bothered by it. Not only is it low-hanging fruit, but it's a sign of deficient intellect. They couldn't insult your intelligence, your competence, or anything about you that actually mattered, they had to go for your appearance, and she will tell them as such. She is very good at her professional insults.

☼As much as she compliments you, she emphasizes your other traits. If you're a writer, an artist, a dancer, any skill you have that you built for years or any talent you were just born with, she dedicates a lot of time to participating and validating it at any chance she gets. She wants you to take pride in something else, something that no one can take from you. Looks fade throughout the years, everyone is eventually going to be cast aside as their hairs grey and their teeth start to fall out. Knowledge never grows obsolete. Besides, people with legitimate interests and hobbies are too busy doing things they enjoy ruminating on how they look.

☼She knows it isn't what you want to hear, but it is what you need to hear sometimes. You are perfect just the way you are. She has never had any desire or want to change you. She has never imagined you any other way than the way you are. She doesn't want anyone who looks different than you, she doesn't want you because of the way you look. Of course, she thinks you're beautiful, but that doesn't matter to her. Never has and it never will. Just as she has faith that you aren't with her for how she looks, she hopes you have faith that you looks are not a determining factor for why she's with you. You are just you and she wouldn't want you any other way.

[nqueso-emergency]

i seriously don’t understand what bucktommy shippers see in tommy though. genuinely. he starts the show as a racist misogynist and is reintroduced as somebody who has literally 0 defining character traits. he treated buck like a child. he didn’t know or care about the people in buck’s life or buck’s interests. you all claim that he’s had character growth since s2 but we never saw any evidence of that so why should we believe he’s changed? like i’m not even trying to hate here and i really don’t gaf about buddie, but seriously why are you guys so obsessed with tommy 😭

What I don't understand is why some people, like you, anon, put the entire "racist and misogynistic" atmosphere of the 118 under Gerrard completely on Tommy.

Yeah. He makes a racist joke towards Chim when he firsts comes into the 118 but no one stands up against it. In fact, people smirk at it. Even Eli. Eli explains the reason the 118 keeps Chim at arms length. I really wish people would actually watch the episode.

And if you want to get technical, we do see growth in Hen begins (time wise, Chim begins is first. Not Hen's) and when Hen shows up, Tommy is much more accepting of new people. In fact, he's interested in Hen until Gerrard opens his mouth, each time ultimately using his authority to intimidate and I know people hate this accusation but Chim never stands up for Hen in front of Gerrard or the others either.

And that's because they all know how difficult it is working under Gerrard.

By Bobby begins, it's clear that Tommy, Sal, Hen, and Chim all get along. And honestly by saying he's had no growth is an insult to both Hen and Chim's judge of character. Do you think they would willingly hang out with someone outside of work who they felt was actually racist and misogynistic?? Hell no. Didn't you watch the stuff with Jonah?? Hen hated him.

As for having no defining character traits, you're very wrong. Tommy shows up. For friends, for the wedding date, for coffee after the disaster date. He includes Eddie in a lot of his interests. He showed up at the hospital for Buck when he got hurt. He never told Buck he was stupid for believing in the curse and he wasn't embarrassed to be in public with Buck covered in boils. He stayed the night with Buck, sleeping on a tiny ass couch just to be near him. He also attended a funeral for a mummified cowboy and even dressed up.

All those things cover the shit you've said that Tommy doesn't do.

He does care for Buck's interests. He does care for the people in Buck's life. He went to a fucking zoom birthday party for Christopher ffs.

Not to mention, Tommy has acknowledged multiple times that he wasn't a good person back then. He even broke up with Buck even though he was clearly falling for Buck (and I believe already has).

Saying you don't care about buddie doesn't give you the right to say you don't see something that others do.

I don't see buddie happening. Never have. But people can still ship them. That's not a problem, and honestly, I'd never ask someone in fandom WHY they like a character or a ship or even a trope.

The issue is when people are obsessed with a character they don't like. That is where we are in the 911 fandom and it's why there's so much hate.

So. Perhaps. You should send this ask to a buddie bnf and ask them why they're so obsessed with Tommy. Especially now that he's broken up with Buck.

[lurkinginnernarrator]

A thought I had, (this isn't a fully thought out meta, just an impression of sorts.)

Something about Wei Wuxian's inherited vengeance.

Where did Wei Wuxian get that vengeance from? Mild-mannered Jiang Fengmian? Benevolent and kind Jiang Yanli? Cangse Sanren, who Wei Wuxian remembers saying something along the lines of remember the good things people do for you not the bad? Wei Changze?

The child of Cangse Sanren and Wei Changze would've likely done something along the lines of protecting the common people and fighting for justice during the Sunshot campaign, but did Wei Wuxian do that?

No, I tell you truly, Wei Wuxian is also the child of Yu Ziyuan. Did they have anything resembling a healthy relationship? No. But the child of Cangse Sanren and Wei Changze wouldn't slaughter thousands in unholy vengeance. Wouldn't extract oceans of blood for every drop stolen.

But the child of Yu Ziyuan would.

That isn't to say, he's only the child of Yu Ziyuan, no, we see glimpses of the influences of his other parental figures throughout the story.

Look at how he doesn't flinch from leaving the proverbial (paradise) mountain to save the wen remnants (CSSR), look at his compassion for the common people (Jiang Yanli); His sense of loyalty (Wei Changze), level headedness (Jiang Fengmian).

Something about how conscious he is of debt. Does that stem from his inherent preference of righteous action? His desire to do right? Yes. But I wouldn't discount his awareness of debt also coming from a quasi-maternal figure like Yu Ziyuan. Now there is a woman aware of debt, what she owes and what is owed to her.

Everyone is shaped by the adult figures in their life, and we inherit many things from them, such as traumas, perspectives and traits.

I posit Wei Wuxian is no different. But, just like Wei Wuxian, we aren't defined by our parental figures.

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

[shadowtraveled]

"mithrun is the only real monsterfucker in dungeon meshi" is objectively the funniest bit you can get out of his everything, but in all seriousness i think his attraction to his love interest is deliberately overstated—and that makes sense, because romantic jealousy is a classic and digestible motive, which is explicitly what kabru was aiming for in condensing mithrun's backstory, and also because until chapter 94, mithrun wasn't willing to admit to the true nature of his desires.

but because romantic envy is both classic and digestible, it probably isn’t a unique enough or complicated enough desire to tempt a demon’s appetite. mithrun’s wish, as far as we can figure from kabru’s reduced retelling, was to have a life in which he had never become one of the canaries, and that carries like 3857 implications and desires within it. that’s delicious. his love interest acts as sort of a red herring to his motivation for making it, though. (side note: i'm saying "love interest" here because, keeping in mind that i barely speak japanese on a good day anymore, "想い人" is something i'd usually take as just kind of an old-fashioned and romantic way to refer to a lover, but in context i wonder if both the connotation of yearning and the vagueness are intentional, and i think this phrasing gets those aspects of it more effectively. anyway.)

mithrun considered his love interest to be untrustworthy. there was a minute where i thought that comment might be about a similar-looking elf (yugin, one of his squad members), but comparing the two…

the "sketchy" arrow is definitely referring to the elf we know as his love interest—the bangs go toward her right, she only has the one forehead ornament, and, most notably, her ears aren't notched.

every time she’s given a full-body depiction in his dungeon, she’s drawn as a chimera, with the body of a snake from the waist down. (side note: the “what if a dungeon has chimeras before reaching level 4?”/“then the dungeon lord is unstable” exchange just being mithrun grilling his past self alive is so funny. he’s so. but anyway) there are a couple things about this.

first, the snake part of the chimera appears to be modeled after some species of coral snake mimic

which, in the biology-for-fun manga, i… doubt is a coincidence, especially with the added context of the “untrustworthy” comment. the dungeon’s conjured illusion of mithrun’s love interest was a harmless copycat of a venomous original. for whatever reason, he felt this person was a threat and made up a "safe" version of her to be in a relationship with, and while it’s definitely possible to be attracted to or even love someone you find to be toxic and/or intimidating, when you take that into consideration alongside the configuration of her body, you get some interesting implications.

which brings us to our second point: if we assume that mithrun was not in fact fucking a snake, then sexual attraction, at least, was so far removed from his idea of a relationship with this person that he did not even bother to keep her dungeon copy human enough to maintain the illusion of the option of a sexual relationship. this is somewhat echoed in the depictions of their interactions, which also imply a frankly unexpected romantic distance. she kisses his cheek and he doesn't seem to react; she's at the edge of a narrow bed with only one set of pillows, on top of his blankets while he's underneath them.

the kiss is particularly interesting because it seems to contrast the text. kabru's narration tells us this was everything mithrun could have asked for, but mithrun is there looking unreadable to pensive, likely because this is right before the panel that makes it clear things in the dungeon are beginning to go wrong.

walking through this backwards for a minute, we have the physical barrier of his bedding and the spatial separation inherent in a bed made for one person, the emotional barrier of his mounting anxiety getting in the way of his ability to enjoy the affection he sought, and... the snake, which historically carries the connotation of temptation, yes, but also mistrust, barring physical intimacy. okay. ok. if a dungeon reflects the mentality of its lord, all of this might suggest that mithrun was not able to have any real desire for a relationship with this person. his unwillingness to be vulnerable or let another person in was insurmountable. but in that case, why was she such a focal point that she remained to the end, after his dungeon had stopped creating iterations of his friends to come and visit him? why would he get so upset over her meeting with his brother that he became lord of a dungeon about it?

well. mithrun's brother was also interested in her, probably genuinely. and mithrun had to win.

you have an older brother who your parents completely ignore, probably in part because he is chronically ill/disabled and almost definitely in part because he received a ton of recessive traits that resulted in rumors that he was an illegitimate child. you are aware, most likely because those same parents fucking told you, that you actually are an illegitimate child. but they keep you around because you had the good fortune of looking just like your mother. what can that possibly teach you but that you, like your brother, are disposable?

it's utterly unsurprising that mithrun, under these circumstances, developed a pathological need to be better than everyone around him. people don't keep you otherwise. i'd argue this is also why he says he looked down on everyone he knew while milsiril claims his dungeon reeked of feelings of inferiority—he sought out people's worst traits and prioritized them in his mind to protect his already extremely fragile sense of self-worth, and all the while he tried to be as likable and high-performing as he possibly could be. his parents disposed of him anyway, but even then he tried to keep up the performance. he was kind to everyone. he never once lost to a dungeon.

when he saw his "love interest" meeting up with his brother, what he saw was himself being replaced by a person his parents had always treated as worthless, and if that was what they thought of the child they'd kept, what value could anyone possibly see in the bastard they'd given away to die? mithrun and kabru tell the story like he wanted to win this unnamed elf's heart, but it was never about being with her. it was about cementing his worth, proving that he didn't deserve to be thrown away.

and so it's particularly cruel that his demon discarded him, too. but maybe it's also particularly gentle that, in the end, there was someone who refused to even consider giving up on him.

kui laid it out in three panels better than i could hope to.

yeah. it's love. you wanted to be loved, even when the only way you were able to understand it was through the desire to be wanted, and you wanted that so badly that the idea of being consumed felt like the promise of finally mattering to someone.

[noresultsfound]

I dont understand how this is the only post (that i can find, so far, on tumblr) talking about this. people should be, and are, outraged

it goes to show that just because you are being advertised something by a reputable (linusTechTips is one of the affected promoters) person or group, you can't always trust that they've thoroughly investigated the company theyre being sponsored by, and even if they have, whether theyre willing (or able, due to the sponsors rules) to disclose the reasons why they've parted ways with a company openly

i implore you to add more things to this list but ive gathered a couple ideas for ways you can investigate whether a company (particularly those that pair with influencers) is being authentic

the most common advice- does it sound too good to be true?: something that came up a lot in honey sponsors was a line that went something like "what have you got to lose?" or "theres no reason not to" - we obviously now know that, you have a lot to lose and there ARE reasons not to

check previous/parent company names- a lot of people didn't know until the news broke yesterday that Honey is owned and run by paypal. if they had known that before, knowing paypal's murky at best background, how many people would have chosen not to instal the extension? as an addition to this point, check the owner of the company and some of the things they are known for saying/doing

do at least a little bit of searching for every investment- before you commit to ANY sponsored product or service please do a little bit of scouring. the more people investigating these things, the more likely that things like the honey scandal will be found sooner. something to consider, if you screen record what you do there is evidence if something happens that you dont know how to repeat.

like i said, this list is not exhaustive so please add to it if you can. stay safe tumblr

if you have the Honey browser extension installed, uninstall it immediately. big big story broke on youtube today strongly indicating that Honey has been massively defrauding basically everyone who does any business with them at every level, including influencers, customers, and actual retailers.

the short version of ONE of the alleged crimes is that they've been hijacking referral links and codes. if you have honey installed on your browser at all, and you use any referral code from anyone, there is a high probability honey will swap out the referral link identifier for their own even if they don't provide a coupon at checkout.

they also are just lying to you, and hiding coupons that very much exist. they're completely fraudulent

paypal bought honey in 2019 for 4 billion, so paypal has been strip mining the influencer economy for 5 years now. the amount of money that's been essentially stolen is unfathomable

[clownowo]

been replaying the Portal series I think this is where its heading

[notbrucewayne48]

"aphobia doesn't exist"

bitch literally not that long ago an aroace youtuber animator was insulted by almost half of its community for being it