#and at the same time they are way more than that
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Before the war, after I left Gaza for Germany, I used to call my dad almost everday and tell him about my day. He would tell me how everyone else was doing and say that Salah,my little nephew, kept asking where I was.
Now, I hardly ever reach my parents or any of my siblings.I don't think Salah even remembers who I am any more as he struggles to carry water containers. I always find myself agonizing and wondering if I'll ever meet my family again, whether the newborns will see me one day and know that their uncle longs to hold them in his arms.
Every time I look at my dad's picture in our home, smiling and surrounded by his grandchildren, it breaks my heart into a million pieces. The house he dreamed the kids would grow up in was leveled to the ground in a split second. Nothing is left, not even both his shoe shops where he worked so hard to build a future for us all. My siblings are unable to work or finish their studies. There are no schools left for the children. There is no proper food, water, or sanitation, no life; only death and rubble all around.
When my brother sent me a photo of my dad lighting a fire, he still had that same old smile on his face. I was relieved to see him somewhat hopeful but it broke my heart even more. My father is the most resilient and hard-working man I've ever known. He always supported us in whatever we wanted to achieve. His only hope was that his grandkids would grow up safely and happily in their home. He never complained from work and taught us the true meaning of sacrifice and perseverance. Instead of living peacefully with his family, he, the kids, and everyone else have to endure life in a makeshift tent,God knows for how much longer, while their lives are constantly threatened by airstrikes, starvation, and disease. No child, elder, or adult should go through such hardships for this long.
As the injustice persists, we only find solace and hope because the free people of this world are still standing with us. Please continue to support us any way you can. I don't even have the words any more to say how grateful I am to everyone. You have already done so much for us but we need you now more than ever.
Please donate if you can and reblog as many times as possible.
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I am thinking about the batkids and their rooms at the manor.
When Dick was first brought to the manor, Alfred put wooden letters that spelled out his name on the outside of the door to his room. He wanted the boy to feel like he belonged, and denoting the room as his seemed like the best way. At first, they spelled out "Richard", and were painted in red, green, and yellow -- the colors that his parents had worn for their circus act, that didn't have any other meaning yet. Dick pried them off the door and threw them away. He didn't want to accept that this was permanent yet. There were new letters on the door a few days later, blue this time, and spelling out "Dick" instead. Those letters got pried off much the same and shoved in a drawer, and they didn't get put back until a year later. He was too short to put them in the same place, so they ended up crooked, and Alfred found it too endearing to fix.
When he left the manor years later, he considered ripping the letters off the door and throwing them in the foyer on his way out. But he left them, and there they remained, crooked as ever.
Jason got his own letters when it became clear he wasn't going anywhere. He helped Alfred put them up on his bedroom door, standing on a step stool to make sure they got in the right place. His were evenly spaced and neatly aligned, and he refused to tell anyone that he cried over them that night. He'd spent months wondering if he'd ever live up to his predecessor, not just as Robin, but in the family as well. And now he had his own letters, just like Dick's, and they weren't going anywhere.
And they didn't. Even after he died. Bruce and Alfred both considered taking the name down to make walking past that empty room less painful, but in the end, they didn't dare touch the letters, just like they didn't touch anything else in the room. Years later, Jason would sneak into the manor through his old bedroom window and find his school uniforms still hanging in the closet, his textbooks on his desk, an open novel on his nightstand, and, of course, the letters still on the door, more of an epitaph than the one on his actual tombstone.
Tim fought for his name on a bedroom door. It took a while, but he trained, and he learned, and he forced himself into the role that he knew he could fill. Part of him thought that no matter how good and useful he made himself as Robin, he'd never really fill the role that the two before him did. He thought there might not be room for him after Jason's death, but he did it. He was older than the other two when Alfred finally put the letters up on his door, but he did it.
Later, when he left in search of Bruce, he didn't think for a second of taking his name down off his door. He'd earned it.
Damian's name got put up practically as soon as he got to the manor. He didn't think much of having his name on a door. If anything, it irked him a bit, being lumped in with the others, but it would have annoyed him more if he didn't get his own name. For a while, his name on the door, marking it as his from the hallway, was the only reason you could tell it wasn't the guest room that it had previously been. He had no photographs, had arrived with no personal affects.
That changed, eventually. As he gained friends, he also gained photos of them. He put up sketches and watercolor paintings of his animals. A dog bed got put on the floor for Titus. But the letters had been there from the beginning, and he grew to appreciate them eventually. His room, with the name on the door, was safe, and he liked it there.
Cass's letters showed up without much fanfare. They were simply there when she exited her room one day. "Cassandra" in black wooden letters that matched all of her new siblings'. She ran her fingers over them with reverence. She'd never been allowed to leave a mark before. Her life was predicated on being a shadow, but there was her name, in big letters, somewhere where other people could see it.
Steph had a room. She didn't want to admit it, but when she crashed at the manor, it was always in the same room. Her name was put up, and she took it down, and it was put up again, and she took it down again until it became something of a game between her and Alfred. If Steph was staying at the manor and Alfred didn't find a wooden S in a random cupboard, then have to search the house for the rest of her name, then he knew she was in a bad mood, and he usually made her favorite cookies and left them outside of the door with her name still firmly in place.
Duke's letters were waiting for him when he moved in. His name in bright yellow letters that matched his suit already in place. Of course it was, it's tradition at this point, and he's part of the family now. He had bounced around for a while now, and the letters on his door made him feel...calmer. It was a sense of permanence, and one he could learn to enjoy.
Barbara didn't need a room. She had her own room, in her own house, but Alfred still offered to mark out a space for her. She declined. When she did stay over, it was either in the cave or Dick's room, she didn't need her own. Still, that didn't mean her mark wasn't left somewhere. There was a study downstairs with a desk that she sometimes did her homework on as a child if she was staying over for the night. Now, the desk held a computer that was wired into the Batcomputer's network, a photo of her and her father, and, of course, tiny wooden letters affixed to the side that spelled out 'Barbara'.
#batfamily#batfamily headcanons#batman#nightwing#dick grayson#red hood#jason todd#red robin#tim drake#robin dc#damian wayne#stephanie brown#cassandra cain#duke thomas#barbra gordon#batgirl#drabble#batfam#alfred pennyworth#dc comics#comics#superheroes#how many rooms does the manor have? no one knows#i'd assume a lot though#like so many#i hope i did okay with Cass and Duke#i don't know a ton about them
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DAY-SHIFT. (p. sh)
― part one here!
After finding out that your boss has seen, heard, and instructed you through some pleasurable nights while parading around as a faceless cam-boy, you decide that your best course of action is to: call out sick. use vacation days. avoid Park Sunghoon at all costs. Unfortunately, ten days doesn’t appear to be nearly enough time to erase what’s happened, and Sunghoon refuses to be avoided.
or the one where sunghoon pretends that he isn’t an anxious mess over accidentally exposing himself and you just so happen to have a lot of fucking empathy.
minors dni
PAIRING ― boss / cam boy!sunghoon x afab reader
WORDCOUNT― 14.5k
CONTENT― forbidden office romance kind of, smidge of angst if ur sensitive, mentions of predatory behavior from sunghoon, he is more desperate than he is dominant, just the way we like it.
NOTE ― bro im so sorry this took way too long to write, it also is way longer than it's supposed to be. but yknow. i had to do him right lmfao. NOT PROOF READ.
nsfw tags under cut
nsfw tags― perverted sunghoon, heavy petting, making out, foreplay on a chair lol, desk sex, very intimate shit ok? ok., pussy eating, jerking off, finger fucking, fingers-in-mouth antics, gagging, implications of something more than just an office fling, unprotected sex, he fills you UP!!! YIPEE!!!
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Avoidance.
That is the only way you know out of any awkward or unsavory situation. Avoid, avoid, avoid. Find a new job, change your name, dye your hair– question all of your life choices up to this point.
It’s the fact that never in your life have you had an interest in live sex cams. It was always just a porn video or a nice erotic novel for you. Sometimes curiosity gets the best of you though, like it does all people, and it’s not like you thought anyone would ever know who you are or catch you in the act of feeding into your curiosities.
The one time you ever navigated to the live camera feed on your favorite porn site did shift your sexual appetite a little bit. A whole new world of seeing exactly what you want without needing to search for far too long for that perfect video…for a cost, of course.
You made good money already, and it’s not like you weren’t going for that promotion at the time either. You thought, why not? Why not pay a pretty, faceless man for some anonymous jerking off and move on with your life?
The one time you found something to satiate the late night body-cravings, the point of pleasure ended up being…your boss?
Small world? Miniscule, fucking tiny little world.
For days you wondered if Sunghoon’s text to you was just a coincidence. After all, the faceless man on screen didn’t say a word to you after you uttered the name of your boss. Even if he directly said your name. Even if Park Sunghoon uttered your false name at work.
Consistent back and forth in your head. From, “No, how could that even be possible? No way is it him.” to “but Mr.Park started being weird after the first call, he used both names, he played off of the boss/employee dynamic.”
You’re going crazy as you send another email to your department, apologizing for taking so many days off but not truly apologetic. It’s been ten days now and Sunghoon has yet to text you again.
That little “Can we talk?” can be heard in your head in his voice. Only now recognizing how clear and unique it truly is when he does speak. You try not to realize how similar the cam-boy sounded to him. Only connecting the dots when they force you to do it, really. You still try to convince yourself that the text was about firing you, given his actions at work that very same day.
Maybe he was avoiding you because he felt awful about needing to fire you?
Maybe he sent that text message to start the process of pushing you out?
After all, it’s still very difficult to imagine Park Sunghoon having a cock that nice, or cum in that amount. Given, it’s not like you ever thought about him jerking off or anything, it’s just–
You don’t fucking know. Your brain is a mess of shaking anxiety and echoes of sexual frustrations and moans.
You were refunded your money. He texted after the session. He said your name. It’s him, isn’t it?
You refuse to fucking find out.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
From:...[ [email protected] ]
CC:...[ [email protected] ]
BCC:...
Subject: Time off Request: Rejected. Insufficient PTO.
[insert your name here],
The time you have requested from the 27th to the 3rd has been rejected due to insufficient hours. As of last Thursday, you are no longer meeting the minimum hour requirement as a full-time employee. Your PTO is at 0 hours and 00 minutes and you now have three unexcused absences. Please return tomorrow with a signed order or note that exempts you from work. If you move forward without returning to the building, this will be grounds for termination. Please review the company handbook and job abandonment guidelines.
Additionally, COO Lee, myself, and Division manager Park will be scheduling a meeting with you in the upcoming days, failure to appear will result in immediate termination.
Thank you,
HR
Well, fuck. You knew the time to avoid this would dry up, and this ten day hideaway to fake your death didn’t quite pan out.
Devastating, truly, that you have to walk through those doors with the same legs your boss may or may not have seen spread open for him through a grainy webcam image. Horrifying, that you have to look him in the eye and explain that you really were sick for the past ten days, that you definitely were not hiding the shame of your sexual desires.
The worst part about all of this? Not just the embarrassment but the fact that…you liked it. On that night, had he admitted it was him, you may not have ended the call yourself. It felt like it added some danger to your arousal at the time. Which, naturally, makes you more embarrassed now. Mostly because, at worst if that was Mr.Park, it was predatory. At best though? You very well may have consented.
But the what ifs don’t matter now. The only thing that matters is forcing yourself through the awkwardness of being at work after avoiding it for so long already.
Fortunately for you though, work is…weirdly normal. In fact, no one acts like you’ve missed ten days at all. You are greeted by the usual co-workers, you sit down at your desk and can log in as usual, and there are no warning emails or invitations for what would be considered a meeting of termination either.
The day goes by just fine, suspiciously so. Sunghoon, though you’re avoiding him at the moment, doesn’t appear to be too out of character either. At one point, you were forced to drop corrected paper work off in his office, and he gave you the same usual and small “Thank you” before you stepped out with your legs threatening to buckle.
Then again, his “casual” appreciation could just be your mind playing positive little tricks on you. Maybe it wasn’t casual at all. Maybe that little uncharacteristic breath afterwards isn’t just in your head. You didn’t make eye contact with him during that brief moment, and you did rush out quite quickly so you wouldn’t really know. However, in the deepest part of your brain his voice really does match the one who said all those dirty things to you.
Maybe you’re still overreacting.
Or maybe you dreamed all of this up.
You choose to remain unaware of the awkwardness around you solely because everything else is normal. Deep, deep down, you know. But you’re not giving that truth a chance to thrive or run your brain anymore.
And just as the day comes to an end, you’re actually feeling better. Anxiety is draining out of you, fear and embarrassment sit dormant in some hidden part of your brain over the small possibility of virtually fucking your boss. It seems you’ve let this work day clear up all of that fear in your head.
You were wrong, right? It wasn’t him, right? He’d have tried to defend himself by now. What boss wouldn’t be absolutely terrified that you’d report him, anyway? After all of that?
You actually feel a little dumb at the possibility of Mr. Park ever wanting you sexually, or ever even wanting to speak to you in that way. Asking to see your pussy? Telling you how to touch it? No, that’s definitely not him. Couldn’t be him.
And your eyes do stray after a little while. Just to steal glimpses into his office, feeling relieved and weightless now that it appears your fears are over and finally understood. Doesn’t change the fact that now when you look at him, you might be wildly fucking attracted to him. Because fuck, imagine if that was him. You’re kind of forced to put his image to the faceless cam-boy now, not that you want to do that or anything. It just…you can’t really blame yourself for it.
You lend yourself a little laugh. As happy as you are that you’re able to convince yourself that it’s not Sunghoon’s cock you’ve yearned for, you really wouldn’t mind sleeping with someone as handsome as him.
Crazy how the lack of anxiety lets you think those types of things though, isn’t it? When your brain is no longer fogged by fear or embarrassment, it’s like the clarity can sometimes be scarier simply because you don’t know how true certain statements are. Even through all of that fear, maybe a part of you wished it was him.
Even with the weight on your shoulders lifted, in hindsight, maybe you’re even a little disappointed that it wasn’t.
And, just as you’re preparing to clock out and head home with a big secret crush and a little pep in your step, you hear the familiar notification of an email. No problem, probably just a daily report or something.
From:...[ [email protected] ]
CC:...
BCC:...
Subject: Mandatory Advising
[insert your name here],
Please come to my office before you leave for the day to discuss your conduct as of late.
Thank you,
Park Sunghoon
Division Manager
000-000-0000 ext. 000
Well, double fuck. To think everything was fine despite you being well aware of that shit HR said to you previously?
You barely recognize how the email is sent directly to you from Mr. Park, not including HR or COO Lee. In fact, the anxiety wells up inside of you so quickly that you nearly have to dry heave a few times before taking a deep breath.
In your head, it’s not even about the web-cam session with a faceless man anymore. Your anxiety about that died the moment you successfully lied to yourself enough, now you’re genuinely just afraid you’ll lose your job or that beloved promotion you worked so hard to be qualified for. You just had to let your anxiety run your life for the past ten days, didn’t you? After all, skipping work to such an extent? Everyone had to have known that it was a lie eventually.
So, you stand to your feet, brush off your thighs, and attempt to keep your heart from pounding as you make your way to Mr. Park’s office expecting to see HR, COO Lee, and a severance package on the desk waiting for your signature.
Instead, you walk in to just find your boss. He’s looking at you as he normally would, eyes focused on his screen before glancing at you for a moment and nodding his head to one of the chairs in front of his desk.
“Mr. Park–” You start, nearly wincing at the way you say it because, well, you haven’t said it since the night you had your pussy out on display. It’s only natural to physically react, right?
“One moment.” He says in a small voice, clicking a few times with the mouse as you watch the monitor light shine across his cheeks with each window he minimizes.
It’s silent for a few moments as you awkwardly look around an office you’ve been in countless times. His lights are always dimmed, the temperature is always comfortable. You’re gonna miss this office, though it’s not your own. It was a nice, brief escape before all of this if you’re being honest.
“How was work for you today?” He turns his attention to you, finally adjusting and rolling his chair to center himself in front of you behind his desk
You pause at the question, unintentionally tilting your head at it like a puppy. “Good? Normal, I guess?”
You watch as he nods with a tight-lipped expression, eyes falling to his desk as he takes in a deep and disappointed sounding breath.
“Well, that’s one of us.” He huffs out, causing you to feel a bit confused with his tone. Is he being…passive aggressive? And when he snaps his eyes from his desk straight to your own confused gaze, you can almost sense a bit of something else in them compared to usual.
Not anger. Not disappointment.
He looks worried.
“Eleven days–” Sunghoon drones on with an exhausted tone, cutting himself off with another breath that shows you were right to assume his current displayed emotion. “You have ignored my text messages for eleven days.”
You’re shocked by that because as far as you’re concerned, he has not texted you.
“What are you–” You furrow your brows at him, frantically pulling out your phone. “You haven’t texted me. See? The last one I got was–” You take a second as you pull up his texts and remember the exact time he texted you. So late into the night, right after…that. Naturally, you silence yourself, afraid to say it out loud.
“On the contrary,” Sunghoon denies your proof. “I texted from my personal phone.”
You hesitate again, looking down and noting the notifications under the tab of “message requests.” To be fucking fair though, you didn’t even know that existed so you never really paid attention to it. Especially as you practically avoided your phone out of fear that he’d be texting you again.
You were thankful he didn’t. That comforted you. Now though? Your comfort is replaced yet again with anxiety because, well, he texted you consistently after that night.
“Oh–” You say quietly, seeing a glimpse of “Please, let me call y–” in one of the messages.
“I didn’t see those.” Quickly, you turn your screen off and shove your phone back into your pocket, nervously clasping your hands in front of you and looking to the floor.
“I will reiterate then.”
You can hear the leather on his chair squeak against his expensive suit when he leans forward, both hands splayed out on his desk in a wide and intimidating stance in front of you.
“Wait–” You look around the office now. “If you’re going to fire me– shouldn’t the others be here too?”
Sunghoon pulls back at that, narrowing his eyes before lending a very small and even more nervous chuckle.
“I’m not firing you. I told them I’d take care of your sudden and, quite frankly, unhelpful vacation.”
You look to the floor again, feeling scolded for your actions but having a genuine reason. If Sunghoon truly is aware of that reason for your absence, he understands too, right?
“I have been beyond inappropriate with you.” He blurts now, that same leather squeaking as he leans back again and looks away from you the moment you snap your head up. “I have reason to believe you’ve not yet reported me, and I’d like to ask for the opportunity to explain myself before you do.”
You feel a chill wash over your whole body, cold sweat peaking right at your temples as you stare forward. He’s being so professional about this, and that lie you’ve convinced yourself of is showing it’s face as just that, a fucking lie.
So this is it?
So there it is? A semi-admittance that it was him? That little feeling in the back of your head that wishes it was diminishes within an instant. In fact, you narrow your eyes at him, your nose crinkles, and you feel frustration bubble up in your gut.
“So you admit that it was you?” You ask, needing a full confirmation.
“Yes.” Sunghoon sighs, leaning back somehow further, creating as much distance from you as possible before unintentionally rolling his eyes. Mostly due to the fact that he was stupid enough to let this happen, mostly to shame himself. “What I did was inappropriate and unacceptable. I didn’t intend for this to ever happen.”
Now you feel a bit…pissed off.
Like? Oh, he didn’t intend for this to happen? What? You mean he didn’t intend to let you fucking find out! Well, as good as he is at playing the part of a slutty man on the internet, he’s not so good at acting in real life, now is he? Saying your false fucking name at work, saying your real name with his cock out?
What in the fuck are you supposed to do about this? Why is he giving you the ability to report him? He’s the one with the power here. He could fire you now and bury the information if he so pleased. After all, He’s besties with COO Lee, right? That bitch in HR has an obsession with him too. Hell, everyone here loves the guy.
You’re just a bottom of the barrel employee trying to work your way up. If you got him fired, surely he’d make damn sure you never work for a decent company like this one again. Additionally, you don’t even want to report him.
Yeah, it was fucking weird that he just knew it was you and kept going. Super strange that he had to have known after the first call, only to ask to see you in the second one. Why does that turn you on in the midst of this anxiety induced spiral? Why the fuck is the idea of Park Sunghoon apologizing for masturbating to and for you so alluring?!
Sure, maybe it’s kind of nice knowing that someone of his status would ever find an interest in you, but it doesn’t quite wash the frustration away. You have every right to question, and every right to be pissed off about it.
Still, in this quiet room, Sunghoon is stoic and all you can think about when you look at him is the way he said “if I were your boss i’d–” and the way he fucked his palm while saying it, implying he wanted it to be you while simultaneously knowing it was you watching.
Since fucking when did Mr. Park ever show a sexual interest in you? And if he did, why the fuck couldn’t he have just been normal about it?
“That was really fucked up, you know that?” You argue immediately, voice shaking at the speed of which your emotions shift. Your resolve isn’t quite as clear as it probably should be. Perhaps you should report him, or maybe you already should have. But, it’s not like you accepted the truth until he demanded it of you.
You would have let it slide. Both of you could have pretended it never happened. You could’ve gone home and continued working, never paying a cam-boy again had Sunghoon not called you into this stupid, comfortable ass office.
“In my defense, I was just doing my job. Though it’s my own fault for not telling you, my job here was at risk if you had found out.”
“You made me talk about you.” You roll your eyes at him now, gaining the power and control over the conversation. “And you thought I wouldn’t find out?! What? Did that get you off or something?”
“I–” Sunghoon stops himself from answering that question truthfully. He quickly tries to explain away the stutter instead. Never has he been scolded by an employee, but you’re well within your rights to do so. “I wasn’t in my right mind. I never get called by name during these sessions and I apologize for having you say it.”
“And you want me to report you?” You raise a brow at him. “Want me to just storm right into HR and tell her how you’re a fucking pervert? Want me to tell her how you told me to repeat your name? To thank you for it? Is that really what you want?”
Are you enjoying yourself a little too much? Maybe.
Sunghoon doesn’t respond though, instead, he runs his hand through his hair and sighs from the stress welling up inside of him. He can only act calm and collected for so long, and it’s been eleven days already. He hates how hearing you say those words goes straight to his cock at a time like this, he hates even more how all of this could have been avoided if he had simply declined your second call.
But you’re not wrong. He is a pervert, and he did tell you to thank him for the pleasure you were getting from his voice and half image alone. At the time, he was so turned on he really just couldn’t help himself. You fed his sexual appetite unknowingly and now this is the consequence of his action. Being a known pervert.
Is it what he wants though? To be reported? Humiliated?
Fuck.
Arguably, just having you humiliate him like this is enough. Drives him crazy, really. Whether it be from arousal or guilt, or both.
And for the first time since you started working here, you see him for what he truly is. A strong man to an extent, but he’s crumbling under his own mistake and it makes you wonder just how far he would’ve taken it had you not found out.
“And what if I didn’t realize who I was fucking myself for?” You glare. “Would you have asked for more? Avoided me here even more? Would you have declined my application for the assistant position because you can’t come to terms with the fact that you’re a fucking pervert?!”
Sunghoon raises his hands in defense.
“Please–” His voice sounds panicked. “Please, keep your voice down.”
“Answer the question, then. Just fucking own it at this point.” You throw your arms up now, letting them fall back down in a slap to your thighs. “Would you have made my work-life miserable just so you could watch me get off to you? Knowing the whole time? Would you have kept on with that boss slash employee shit just so it felt more real for you?”
Staring forward at him, you watch him accept that everything you’re saying is likely exactly what would have happened. Maybe he really will try to own it. Which would be… a good thing if you decide to let your own resolve falter.
So fucking secretive, huh? An actual, real life degenerate? And it’s Sunghoon of all people?
“Maybe…” Sunghoon trails off, making himself seem much smaller than he usually is on a day-to-day basis. “I mean, No–I,”
Oh, he’s actually stuttering.
“And you want me to tell on you? You want me to fuck your life up?” You raise a brow. “As if I didn’t pay you to do it?”
In all honesty, aside from the anxiety and awkwardness, and despite never once thinking of Sunghoon too sexually, things have changed. Drastically. Especially after being confronted with this situation and he’s not intimidating you or using his power to control you. No, he’s giving you the power and quite frankly, you don’t know what to do with it.
Are you basking in it? Absolutely. Is it nice to see him cower in front of you? In that big plush chair that costs more than your monthly income? Hell yeah.
But goddamn, had he approached you before all of this and asked for a date, or showed interest, you would have gladly partaken in a secret romance with him. He’s intelligent, attractive, clean, and has money. It’s not like you ever expected the guy to go home and fuck himself on camera.
You never thought he was the type to be so lonely either. Or so desperate, judging by how he acted during those two sessions. Arguably, you always wondered why there was never a ring on those pristine fingers.
And while you were definitely the victim in this situation, you feel more embarrassed than you do violated. Many nights you thought of how he spoke, how he said how badly he wanted you. It’s embarrassing because you’re starting to love the idea of who those words really came from. The Park Sunghoon, so untouchable in the business world. So untouchable by women and men solely because he appears to be too expensive, too pristine.
But you…
You’ve seen him dirty.
Part of you wishes you didn’t pay to be humiliated like this. The rest of you wishes you didn’t fucking like it as much as you do.
“It’s only fair.” Sunghoon explains with a short breath. “I feel awful for what I’ve done, and I should have told you the moment I recognized her as, well–” He pauses with a pained face, as if he hates hearing himself say it. “You.”
“Then, why didn’t you?” You raise your brow again, nearly forgetting you’re at work, solely focused on the conversation at hand and feeling relieved at the way it’s going.
Sunghoon shifts in discomfort, looking away from you.
“Do you want honesty?” He asks in a quiet voice, leaning forward on his desk but refusing eye contact. He keeps his gaze lowered the entire time, his voice small and shaky.
There’s still people in the office, though his door is closed and it’s unlikely he can be heard.
You nod to him with an even smaller “Go on then.”
“I tried to convince myself that it wasn’t you.” He says, shifting his hands and picking at his cuticles.
Man, he really knows how to act sorry, doesn’t he?
“I avoided you after that first call, solely because I think I wanted her to be you. Which is…incredibly inappropriate.”
He looks up at you now, searching for a reaction and only seeing you nod at him. His eyes shift right back down as he continues.
“My avoiding you led you to– um– more services.” He explains quieter, admitting in full the situation he’s allowed to take place, seeming more and more insecure with his words than he ever has before. “I can admit that I have fantasies and needs.”
Silence.
“After that first call, I couldn’t help but be entirely attracted to you. The idea of–”
You suddenly find yourself thinking back to all of those things he said to you again, parading as if he wasn’t your boss, telling you what he'd do if he were. He seems to have accidentally found a sexual interest in the dynamic…and he fucking dragged you into it with him.
“Mr. Par– Sunghoon.” You cut him off, actually feeling a bit of pity now at his admittance.
His words make you feel like maybe he’s not entirely just a pervert who was intending to make you get off to him from the start. If anything, he probably felt uncomfortable at first knowing who was on the other end of the call. It’s the fact that his real life job was at risk if you found out, and still he indulged despite that. He accepted that second call, he asked for more, he acted like he really does want you.
To the extent that losing his job was in the front of his mind and he still did it. He ignored the danger of it and prioritized getting off…with you. You find yourself wondering if this would have happened to any other employee under him if they happened to stumble across his stream too.
Part of you wants to pretend he wouldn’t, because the idea that all of this is happening solely because it was you? It hits a little too hard, a little too deep.
“Okay, okay. Stop,” You say, keeping your eyes on him and willing him to look up at you. “You don’t have to keep explaining, I get it.”
“No.” He does meet your eye this time, stopping your brain of all thoughts at how differently you see him now versus all the times before. “I do.”
He’s so honest. Probably too honest for his own good. Maybe that’s why he’s so good at his job, maybe that’s why everyone loves him. Maybe a bit of lying would help him in this situation if it were anyone else, but for you?
You kind of enjoy the way he’s telling the truth. Admitting that he was desperate, apologizing for wanting you even if just for a brief moment.
“I asked you to turn on your camera for selfish reasons. I asked you to say my name, then I made the mistake of exposing myself because I–” He hesitates, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply through his nose. “I struggled to pretend it wasn’t me, and that she wasn’t you. I very well knew what I was doing, and at the time, I wished that you did too.”
More silence as you stare at him, stunned, slightly in awe.
“But I knew you wouldn’t have reciprocated. What I’ve done is criminal, and I am encouraging you to report me for it if that’s what you deem necessary.”
“And if I don’t?” You don’t leave any more room for silence now, feeling desired and validated.
You can’t pretend that you’re mad, though you were previously. You simply can’t pretend that, now at least, you wouldn’t reciprocate. If anything, you’re more interested now than you think you ever would have been before.
“We can forget any of this ever happened. I’ll stop streaming and accepting private calls, and we can hopefully move forward without any ill-feelings of one another.” He blinks at you, near pleading with his eyes. “I’ll push your application through– That is, if you still want the position.”
Sunghoon does wince at the bribe, considering he’s never done such a thing let alone commit acts of sexual harassment, or perhaps even non consensual foreplay with someone. It really really wasn’t entirely intentional, and he’s disgusted with himself. If you report him, he’d take the hit to his reputation and career, but if you don’t…what then?
Ill-feelings, he says? If anything, you might feel more ill parading around like you wouldn’t want him to do all of those things he said previously, with free-will to say as he pleased without the fear of you knowing who the words were coming from.
“Can you please stop with the professional talk?” You hum out with an exhausted eye roll. “I don’t want the promotion if you’re just offering it so I don’t rat you out.” You narrow your eyes now and lean yourself forward. “You hope to forget this ever happened? Really?”
Carefully, the two of you watch each other for a while longer. Sunghoon looking like he’s about to catch himself on fire, and you, looking annoyed and amused. Still, the thick air in the room starts to feel suffocating under the pressure of the “issue” at hand as you scold him further.
“What you did was predatory. But– I don’t want to ruin your life over this.”
You watch as Sunghoon listens, his posture opening up a bit more as you speak, showing that he’s being relieved of his stress through your words alone.
“Are you trying to hold a promotion over my head over this?”
Before he gets the chance to curl in on himself again, you answer for him.
“Maybe.”
You continue too, not letting him speak for the time being. Or, rather, giving him a chance to breathe.
“Should you change your username and continue doing what you want behind closed doors because it’s no one else’s business?” You really watch him this time. “Yes.”
He blinks at you, raising a brow in slight confusion.
“Did you take advantage of me?”
He nods before you whisper out another “yes” yourself.
“Would I let you do it again…?”
Oh, for Sunghoon, it’s hard to breathe right now as he anticipates what you’ll say. Is it going to be a ‘no’ this time? Are you going to stand up and change your mind? Despite just stating you don’t want to ruin his life?
God, hasn’t he already let you?
“Yes.”
Pause.
“I’m sorry?” Sunghoon responds in disbelief, shifting his eyes to his hands and then back to you. “Come again?”
“Sunghoon.” You make it a point to call him by his name now, ignoring the etiquette of a proper boss and employee dynamic. “I am humiliated by all of this but I can see that you are too. You’ve admitted your guilt and even go as far as encouraging that I report you.” You pause again, knowing that this isn’t where the conversation should be going for any, uh, normal person, you suppose.
“If you had just told me. If you had said anything about wanting to, like, fuck me, I would have done it with or without the promotion on the line.”
Does that make you sound a little desperate? Yeah. But it’s not like he doesn’t know how badly you need to be fucked. After all, you know, the cam sessions and stuff. You were literally paying a stranger to get you off.
Shouldn’t he, of all people, know that you were bad-off enough to get laid?
Sunghoon’s issue though, is that he never looks at his employees sexually. No matter how pretty, no matter how much they flaunt themselves at him. He never has, and probably never will again. If it hadn’t been for that single first session with you, all would be well. But now? He’s too attracted to you.
He wants you so badly.
“If you tell me right now that you want me, in the same way you did on that call–” You stop yourself to really look at him. With the way he swallows, the way his lips slightly part, the way his hands show signs of eleven days worth of nervous habit cuticle picking. “If you do all of those things you said you’d do ‘if you were my boss’...”
“Wait, wait–” Sunghoon stands in a rush, causing you to jump slightly at the sudden sound echoing off of the walls in the office. “Do you understand the consequences of what you’re implying right now?”
“If I fuck my boss, we could both be fired?” You smile, feeling the confidence raise within you. Watching the way he reacts to your lewd words face to face rather than through a microphone.
“That would be…correct.” He raises a brow.
“Well, technically, you’ve already been fucking me.” You look away from him, feeling a bit shy even with the confidence, but never having spoken to a man so bluntly before like this? It’s a bit scary. “Would it really make anything worse if, you know, I do reciprocate?”
Goddamn. Sunghoon might be a bit smitten. This situation could have gone a thousand different ways, and you offer the one that includes your legs spread across this fucking desk and his face buried between them?
Oh. Never has he been so willingly turned on at work.
“Is this what you want?” He asks in a breath, shifting his eyes to the door and walking towards it, immediately reaching for the lock but not quite turning it.
“Is that what you want?” You counter, turning and staring at the lock.
Sunghoon hides his nod, wanting you to be the one to answer first. After all, hasn’t he been self-indulgent enough?
“Do you want me to fuck you?” He finally breaks and says it, blatantly, not sugar coated, yet still sweet when the words hit your ears. “After all this, you still want it?”
You nod, dipping your head a bit against your shoulder.
Click.
“I guess I should have known.” Sunghoon plays with his words now, hand dropping from the now locked door and eyes entirely on you. “Do you want me to fuck you, or would you prefer–”
“You.” You smile, feeling your skin prickle at the electricity that enters the room through breath and words alone. It’s the way he already shifted. Like all of that anxiety melted out of him within an instant.
“No, no.” He stalks towards you now, the nervous Sunghoon is no longer in sight as he makes himself seem bigger, taller, far more intimidating. Just like he was on camera. “The me you saw on screen is not the same as what you’re seeing right now.” He tries to explain.
“Oh?” You tilt your head, and he only finds that cute.
Far too cute.
“You’d do as I ask, right?” His voice shifts to a raspy whisper as he centers himself in front of you, both hands reaching the arms of your chair as he hovers above you. “I’m far more tame online.”
Tame?! That’s what he calls tame?!
You stare up at him, keeping your jaw from falling slack as you physically see him shift from being your boss into being a man with a need. Not just any need either. A need for you.
Part of you wonders if he ever truly felt bad in the first place about all of this, because the shift from just moments ago is so dramatic it’s almost scary.
“So, tell me.” He leans down, inches from your face as his eyes start to fall to a half-lidded stare at you. “You’ll do as I say? You’d let me do it all for you, and not ask me to stop until I feel it best, yes?”
You swallow and slowly nod. Oh god, it really, really, is him.
“And while at work, you’ll behave?” He continues, lips now ghosting over yours to the point you can almost feel them press down. He’s implying that if you don’t tell, that this won’t be the only time too? Shit. He’s entirely aware of why this shouldn’t be happening, but still making it happen.
“No matter what I do to you, where or how I do it, you’ll behave?”
You can’t help it when you lift your chin, just a bit to rest your lips against his words, eyes falling closed and hands hesitant to reach out for his perfectly ironed shirt.
You feel his smile against your lips, with that sharp-toothed grin he rarely offers.
“Ah, so it’s true.” He murmurs against you, his hand reaching for yours and guiding it for you, straight to his belt. “Dirty, dirty girl.”
A small, pleased, sound leaves your throat when he does kiss you, adding his own pleased hum alongside yours as his hands still hold yours in place over his belt, not quite letting you do anything just yet.
”Gonna be quiet–” He whispers into your mouth, just against your tongue before licking out and against it. “Even when I tell you to moan my name?”
You really shouldn’t be surprised, but you still are. You like this Sunghoon better than the one who stutters and picks his cuticles. He’s owning it, and in a way, so are you.
After all, it wasn’t until today that you truly learned what Sunghoon is like when he’s aroused. Not that you ever should have known in the first place. The fact that you do know, the fact that he’s showing you? It just makes this all the more arousing, in your opinion.
All he needed was a green light and within seconds it seems, Sunghoon became the need you’ve been chasing for months now through porn sites and erotic novels.
You nod to his words, trying to drop your hand just a bit to feel what you’ve already seen. Just to feel how warm he is, how—
“Is that so?” Sunghoon whispers in an amused tone, guiding your hand right back to his belt, only to drop his other hand straight between your legs. “You’re supposed to do as I say. If I tell you to moan my name, you do it.”
Oh, the sexual confusion of what to do and which Sunghoon to obey. All you can do is continue to nod for him, hanging your head with a breath at the way he cups his hand over the entirety of your core. You wore pants today in order to hide your shame, to try and feel invisible based on previous circumstances. You’re not so happy about that now, as you try to feel his touch through the thick fabric only to shamelessly thrust your hips up and against his palm.
He moves his lips to the top of your head now, hovering over you in a perfect stance of power, hand gently rubbing up and and down despite your hips asking for a harsher touch. If anything, it makes him feel better knowing how you react to this.
In actuality, his relief is sending his arousal through the roof. Not only are you not going to rat him out but…you want more of it? More of him, in particular? Not the facade of him online?
At this point, if he gets caught, you’re both going down in flames. So, why not enjoy the ride?
Truly, it’s laughable in the way he’s just as amused as he is turned on, relishing in the fact that he wants you and you’re letting him have you despite his past actions. You’re messy too, he’s seen it, and now he gets to feel it.
“Mhm,” Sunghoon hums against the top of your head, now pressing his own hips forward against your hand. “Feel that?”
The electricity? How hard he is? How needy you are?
”Yeah…” You sigh absentmindedly, bumping his chin with your head when you try to look up at him. You only blink twice before he coos out with a sad little sound.
He doesn’t say a word after as he removes his hand and instead, grabs both of your hands and places them on his shirt.
“Go on.” He smiles, waiting to see you to start fumbling against his buttons.
And fumble, you do. Touching him, for some reason, feels so dangerous. Knowing you’re the one removing his shirt, watching his skin be revealed as it begins to fall open by your own doing? It’s electrifying. Enough to lose your train of thought as you study how toned and smooth his skin is. Just like how you had seen on camera, so clear in front of you now. You’re aching for him by this point, being able to feel his body heat, touch him, feel his eyes on you.
If you had really known back then who it was you were talking to, you very well may have pretended to not know as well, judging by the way your entire body catches fire for him.
And as his shirt falls completely open, he’s satisfied with the way you do it. Complacent and docile beneath him, nervous fingers shaking much like he did for the past eleven days. With those pretty eyes looking at him, like there’s nothing in your head at all.
He chuckles at you, grabbing your hands again and placing them right on his chest, helping your hesitant touch to massage and caress each bump and toned muscle. He intentionally flexes the further down your hands go, all the way back to his belt.
There, he looks down at where you touch, then back at you with a quirked brow. You stare up at him, blinking, face feeling hot, and it’s like you move your hands on instinct. The sound of his buckle being unclasped echoes in the room, and his eyes only darken with the sound.
The sound of it slipping from the loops when he takes it upon himself to remove it completely for you, the sound of his breathing, the sound of that zipper, the button, the shuffling of his pants being skewed down just enough to fit your hand inside.
He moans at the image alone, loving the way your smaller hand looks slipping down his pants, the way your breathing is somehow even as if you’re trying to keep yourself calm. So calm, so pretty, but he knows how needy you are. He shouldn’t, but he does, and he uses it to his advantage.
You’re the one who moans this time upon feeling that little twitch of his cock urging you to grab. And he helps you too, with the way he guides your hand under the front of his pants further, forcing your fingers to grab and grope the thick of his cock, uncomfortable and pressing between his briefs and undone zipper.
“Still, you’re just looking.” Sunghoon comments, pressing his hips forward slowly and gently. “I’m right here.” He continues to explain the situation to you, as if you’re not experiencing it. “You need me to show you how to touch me too?”
You hesitate with a groan caught in your throat. You’re still processing the size difference that you feel now versus what you saw. Bigger. Thicker. Heavier than you would have expected against your palm. Honestly, you were so focused on the fact that Sunghoon’s cock is currently fucking forward against you that you almost forgot how to jerk a man off by yourself.
His hand had been doing all the work for you, and you’re quick to take over.
Sunghoon lends a very small gasp at the way you try to grasp, and instantly both of his arms shoot to the chair behind your head. He grips it, dropping his chin to the top of your head before thrusting a bit harsher into the grip you try to hold on him.
“Harder.” He exhales, his cock twitching in your weak hold. “Grab me harder.”
You do, squeezing the bulge before intentionally adjusting it for him, allowing the head of his bulbous cock to peek from the top of his briefs.
His relieved sigh is enough, you can’t help it. With his chin sat atop your head like this, you have no choice but to watch the way he moves his hips. Just like he did on camera. His abs flex with each movement, his arms grip behind you on the chair tighter, and you couldn’t pull your eyes away from his desperate body even if you wanted to.
You thrust up too, as if your body craves what you’re already touching. And you do crave it, so much so that your clit aches against the denim you’re rubbing up against. Unfortunate that you wore these fucking jeans, honestly.
“Mr. Park–” You let out a small and frustrated cry, using your other hand to try and fail at unbuttoning your own pants.
He hides his smile at the way you’ve reverted back to his professional title, but pays no mind to it because that’s what he wanted to hear in your voice that night. A desperate sound of his name, a plea, a cry. He can’t help but cling to it and bury that pretty voice into the darkest parts of his brain. A memory he’ll revisit time and time again after this. That sound, those pretty lips, this weak grasp you have. For the time being, it’s his. You belong to him right now.
“Hm?” He hums out, fucking his hips forward while tilting his head back to look at you. “What is it, baby?”
Oh. You lost your train of thought.
Thankfully, he seems to do the thinking for you as he shifts his eyes down and watches you try to both please him and remove your own pants. A cute sight to him, really. Someone who was just scolding him for wanting this, fumbling for more?
So cute.
He chuckles, pulling his hips back from your hand and grabbing it, unbothered by the loss of your touch. Instantly he intertwines his fingers with yours, and grasps your other hand from your pants to do the same. Both your arms raise by his guidance to the back of the chair before he releases them.
You watch with a slack jaw and half-lidded eyes as he lowers himself, right onto his knees before he unbuttons your pants for you and very politely pulls them from your legs.
“This what you want?” He smiles, lying his cheek right against your exposed thigh and taking a deep inhale. It’s taking everything in him not to fawn over the woman who had him in his thoughts for the past however long, truly.
Then again, he’s weak. He doesn’t even look up at you through his words and, instead, nuzzles his nose right up and against the seat of your panties before inhaling with a pleasant hum. “To have me finally touching this pretty pussy for you?”
God damn, if you didn’t already know it was him on that camera, you do now. He speaks the same type of words, with the same confidence, the same sultry tone…
You can barely comprehend the way he slowly takes his own pants off because you’re too focused on the way he runs his lips across your skin with dirty thoughts spilling from them. Fingers tucked under either side of your panties in preparation before he eventually pulls them off of you.
“Did you wear those pants to hide yourself from me?” He comments now with an amused tone. “Knowing you wanted me to take them off of you anyway?”
You shake your head at him, holding your breath. You did wear them to hide, but you never would have expected this situation to go in a direction involving his mouth anywhere near where you need it. Sure, you assumed he would have rejected you, you assumed that if it was him– he’d have been so disgusted with himself that he’d only gag at your presence.
But no. You were bold in your words, and he seems to feed into that.
“No?” He furrows his brows and lifts his head. Now lowering your panties much like he did for your pants. He’s quick with his next action, seemingly hiding his own desperation through playful comments at you. “Why not?” He adds, instantly pressing his thumb against your clit and fucking shining his eyes up at you with a semi-pouted mouth.
You roll your eyes back at the sudden pressure, relaxing your shoulders and slouching down in the chair. Your legs spread further on instinct, granting him a full view of your sticky cunt parting open for him.
His eyes glance down, peering into the heat you offered once before ever knowing it was him looking. Clicking his tongue, he can’t help but bite his lower lip to hold himself back. He hopes you don’t notice the way his hand finds its way to his own cock, he really, really hopes you don’t see him act so pathetic over this.
But you do. The moment your eyes roll back into place and get a look at him. One of his shoulders is moving, but the action is hidden by not only the chair, but his fucking face. He’s got his lips parted and he’s licking his lower lip. Slicking it up with his own saliva before–
“So quiet,” He hums with glistening lips, lending himself a light hold with his cock and pretending it’s you doing it for him. “You have nothing to say for yourself?” He adds now, inhaling once more the scent of your slick dripping for him as he leans in just a bit more.
“Oh–!” You yelp slightly at the feeling of his teeth digging into the flesh just to the side of your core. He bites down harder and harder, licking the flesh between his teeth before sucking hard against it. The sweat and scent of your full-day at work does nothing to calm his raging cock. He loves it and it only grows his appetite for you. Licking, sucking, nibbling at the skin until he’s sure he’ll leave a nice, painful swell to rub against your panties later. Only then does he release your skin from his still-tasting mouth.
The relief when he releases your thigh is short lived because he offers not even a full two seconds before you feel his mouth circle your clit. Like he can’t help himself, like he can’t tease you right now even if he wanted to.
A flick of his tongue sends a shiver down your spine straight to your toes and you can’t stop your legs from immediately wrapping around his head. You hear his muffled “mmf” when you do that, but he keeps you from apologizing for it because his free hand goes straight under your ass and scoots you even closer to his tongue.
And if you didn’t already think Sunghoon knew how to use that mouth for more than just being a professional business man, you do now. With the way that same tongue that used to taste the morning coffee you’d bring him now tastes you. Deeply.
He licks, flicks, and sucks every fold. Slurping up any dripping heat that slips out of you before pressing his tongue in and nuzzling his nose against your clit. He’s not quiet about it either. He moans with each lick, hums every time your legs squeeze around his neck, slurps and loudly sucks.
It’s pornographic, it’s sexy, it’s–
Suddenly, you feel a sharp jolt shoot through you, having not even noticed his hand moving from your ass to your front, moving straight up under your shirt. His fingers immediately find your nipple and pinches hard. So hard that your previous moan only becomes prolonged. Grows louder, breathier.
He pinches and massages your nipple with the intent to keep you loud for him. Office setting or not, he could give less of a shit about that right now. He ignores the strain on his wrist from your bra, he uses his other hand to grip himself harder, and you can’t help but squeeze him tighter between your thighs until you’re, quite literally, shaking.
Your hips are sliding against his face with each jolt of pleasure, practically riding him, and his cock is now entirely neglected because you can’t help but want more. You need more. And he gives it, by now releasing himself and keeping both hands on you. One holding the outside of your thigh, almost pushing you to squeeze tighter, the other incessantly abusing your nipple.
He chokes out a moan through his messy movements, never quite knowing where to put his hands solely because he wants to touch all of you. His cock is just fine being neglected, he thinks, as he realizes just how much pleasure he gets from feeling you wrap yourself around him like this.
It feels better than jerking himself off.
“Mr. P–” You sigh out, still not quite used to actually calling him his name, but the sound of it reminds you time and time again how wrong this situation is supposed to be.
You’re sitting on this soft chair, pussy being spread apart by a tongue none other than the man who signs your paychecks. And just this morning you were terrified of him ever even getting a glimpse of you without pants on? God, how stupid could you be? You should’ve been chasing this man’s touch since the day you looked at him for the first time.
“Fuck–” You moan out for him, brain spitting thoughts at you as each second passes. The danger of this, the fact that he genuinely got off to you before you knew it was him. The secrecy of his perverted thoughts and actions…it’s all so… “So, you’re so – hot.”
You feel him laugh, kissing the pulsing hole of your pussy when he pulls his tongue back to swallow. And for just a few moments, he turns his head, gripping your thigh with his teeth once again before speaking back to you, muffled by the hot skin.
“Yeah?” He laughs, now pulling his hand from your bra and lifting to your chin, pointing your gaze down at him, forcing you to see the way your thighs nearly suffocate him against your pussy. “Then keep your eyes on me.”
And you do, especially when he uses both of his hands now, nudging them between your legs and forcing them from his shoulders. He rests your legs on the arms of the chair instead and flicks his eyes up at you.
“You watching?” He makes this a point, blowing a small breath of air straight at your clit before receiving a dazed and slow nod from you. “Keep your legs open too.”
That’s the last thing he says before his mouth is full again, sucking your folds between his teeth before tucking his tongue right back into your hole. He tastes for just a few moments before you feel those same lips on your clit. He lets it throb in his open mouth as he listens carefully to your little sounds, especially now that he’s sliding his fingers into you.
You gasp, holding your breath at the feeling. His fingers slide in, reaching deep before he scissors them open. And all you feel from it is pleasure. You can’t help that your eyes roll back again, but you do try to keep your gaze fixed on his. With his eyes so rounded, blinking up at you with his strong jaw moving with each swallow of his own muffled moans.
He sucks your clit, fucks your cunt open, and relishes in the way he will soon get to splay you across his desk and really let you have it.
And he does this for a few minutes, though in your head it goes by so fast that you nearly get whiplash from the way he pulls back with a wet sound and grins at you.
“Aw, baby–” He coos at the face you make, seemingly disappointed to lose all stimulation at once, but he’s quick to lift to his feet and lean back over you.
Oh, his cock. It’s right there.
Oh.
His face–
“You’re so fucking wet right now.” He murmurs against the corner of your mouth with a raspy whisper, easily and without warning slipping two of his fingers right back into the heat that he just denied himself of licking more. “You hear that?” He continues with a sharp toothed bite to your lip. “How wet you are?”
You groan at the way he slams his fingers in, out, in, out, in…He keeps them there, pressed so far into you that you can physically feel the way your pussy tries to push him out again.
“Could slip it in right now–” He moans out at how tight you clench just his fingers. “Fuck, could be so deep in you.”
Your face feels hot as a bashful feeling overtakes you. His voice hits so much harder when you feel his breath along with it. His fingers, his cock right up against you. You want him to slip it in. To stuff his cock in you so fast, no room to adjust, not a second to even catch your breath.
God, you need it right now. It’s been too long since you’ve felt a real person touch you, you can’t help that you feel so desperate. The clench isn’t on purpose, your body tells him all he needs to know, all while he tells you all you could only wish to hear fall from someone’s lips.
And not just anyone. His lips.
You shoot your arms around his neck and it's not really intentional but– an actual kiss. You need it.
He seems pleased by it though, with the way his tongue immediately asks for more. One hand moves to brace your cheek, the other still fucking into you so good that you can’t keep a single moan down. He takes full control of the initiated kiss solely because you kissed him first. Almost hungrily, he licks into your mouth with his own muffled groan, encouraging you to keep being pretty like this. Just so you can see what he’ll do to you.
And, damn. He guides your body like a puppet, stiffening his shoulders when he licks into your mouth and threatening to pull away by raising himself up just a bit. He knew you’d chase the kiss, and you do. You lift with him, your ass lifting from the chair just to keep his tongue against yours, and he takes the elevated position and angles his hand just a bit. There, his fingers fuck into you harder, faster, so much fucking deeper until– you feel his fingers stop at a painfully deep spot inside of you.
He pulls back from the kiss, looking down between your bodies, and your eyes follow his gaze. Right there, he’s placed his knee up against his own wrist, forcing his fingers to remain deep and unmoving in you.
You take in a sharp inhale, seeing the way he lets your body fall back to the seat of the chair, only forcing him to skew his fingers and– “Oh, god!”
You moan out so suddenly that it even shocks him for a moment, but he takes your weakness and uses it to his advantage. Quickly, he licks into your moaning mouth, tickling his fingers upwards, pulling even more animalistic sounds from you.
“Yeah?” He whispers frantically, so turned on by the way your entire body stiffens. “Right there?” He continues, leaning his full body weight forward with his knee, wincing at the way he presses his cock against anything he can find in the process, just to get you off right here, right now.
You nod just as frantically, toes curling, arms shooting to the chair in a form that should appear as discomfort, but really you’re just bracing yourself through the tensing of your muscles before all of them relax and pulse at once.
Your ears pop, but you can still hear your desperate cries of his name somewhere distant. You can even hear him, humming and encouraging your orgasm. You wish you could hold your eyes open to see him, to grab him and force him to fuck his fingers hard into you. God, you could take it right now. You could take just about anything to heighten this feeling of stars bursting behind your eyelids.
Somehow though, it’s like he knows. Half-way through your orgasm, you feel the weight between your legs shift and his fingers start moving again. Still, your eyes are squeezed shut, and you can't help but to lunge forward and hug against his neck, clinging to him through the prolonged orgasm that his fingers alone have brought to you.
“Squeezing me so tight–” Sunghoon groans, unsure of if he’s referring to the way your needy cunt crowds his fingers, or the way you cling to him like a lost pet, begging for him to never leave your sight. “Fuck, you’re so pretty like this.”
You hear those words over any of his others. So clear in your head as you snap your head up and look at him. You see him lower his gaze, but your grip doesn’t quite allow him to actually look down at you. Not when he has to physically hold you up anyway. Still, he looks amused up there, knowing that single compliment must’ve hit somewhere inside of you.
You’re not sure why, through all this, Sunghoon calling you pretty makes it so much more intimate. And even as your legs continue to shake, and you release your death grip hug on him, he keeps himself crowded up to you. He’s somehow out of breath just like you are, relishing in the calm silence of your post orgasm as he…Jesus.
It’s not just your imagination. Somehow, it is intimate. It’s the way he pulls his fingers out and both hands shoot to your face. First, he kisses you as if you’re a long lost love. Deeply, slowly. Then, he’s putting one hand at the small of your back, nudging his knee right back between your legs, and pulling you right up against him.
“Who did you cum for?” Sunghoon asks, pulling back just to lick against your lips and stare directly down at you. “Say my name.”
You don’t hesitate, echoing out with a winced expression, still so out of breath while rubbing your clit to the expanse of his thigh.
“Su-Sunghoo-Sunghoon-”
“Yeah?” He encourages you, hearing his name heat his ears up. He moves his pussy-slicked fingers to your mouth while you cry his name, and easily presses your tongue down with them, sliding the digits further and further down your throat. “Sunghoon.” He says his own name. “Say it again.”
You gag around his fingers, unable to obey his demand.
“Sung–” He inspects the way your tongue struggles against the intrusion in your mouth. “Hoon.”
You swallow around them now, sputtering, tears now running down the outer apples of your cheeks. He watches you do it too, wondering how good that would feel if it were his cock you’re swallowing around. Knowing you’d probably do it for him if he wanted to right now.
But…he needs more than that. Despite how delicious you look while gagging, his cock has been neglected and he needs to fuck out the stress from the past however long you’ve been avoiding him. It’s like his brain breaks with the action as he watches you take his fingers in whatever way he offers. You let him do whatever he wants. You’re obeying.
“Up.” He suddenly says, pulling all physical contact with you away as he turns, steps out of the pants restricting his ankles, and swipes every pen, file, and picture frame off his desk. “Come here, baby.”
You feel like you’re melted to this chair right now, in all honesty. You’re still trying to catch your breath just from touching his cock before he decided to make you see fucking stars, to think you can stand right now is insane.
So, when you don’t immediately hop up and throw yourself onto his desk, he turns to look at you.
You’re splayed out, legs still spread, toes still curled. Your chest is heaving to breathe, eyes wild and lips so fucking kissable.
“Oh, fuck.” He sighs to himself in realization, relishing in the image of you he’s only recently been craving. “Look at you.”
You lift your arm to hide your face, feeling apologetic for the way you’ve lost the ability to exist as an active participant right now. Even more apologetic when you glance down at how fucking hard his cock is. Raging hard, so pretty with the tip sputtering precum for god knows how long.
He watches you stare, and lends you a few moments to catch your breath by gripping it himself. Leaning himself against his desk and twisting his wrist with a tight grip at the base.
“Is this how you looked at me when I did this before?” He asks, flicking his wrist still with each drag. “So out of it, you look like such a mess, babe.”
You find yourself humming a confirmation to him as you watch, almost reverting back to who you were during that first session. Unseen, only heard, all while you got to see him pleasure himself to almost nothing. You gave him nothing.
You’ve still only given him nothing.
And so, very slowly, you force yourself to stand on shaking legs to take those two strides to his desk. Something inside of you tingles when he drops his cock and opens his arms for you, like a good boss would do in this situation. Supporting your unbalanced weight, letting you walk into his comforting grasp.
“Said my name so pretty, you know.” He comments gently when he holds you close to him. Hands reaching down from the grip around your waist just to grab both of your fleshy ass checks and squeeze them. “You want more, yes?”
He’s quick to the point, only allowing the short and sweet moments to last just enough for them to stick in your head. Just enough to have questions about his actions. Just enough to give him anything, everything, he could want if it involves your body.
You nod almost shyly, dipping your head down and leaning against his chest.
“Let's get this off of you then.” He smiles with a gentle voice, reaching to the hem of your shirt and pulling it straight up, watching how you lift your arms to help him. “Mhm–” He hums again, loving how the bra drags off of you along with the shirt. He lets both of his hands brush your nipples before he goes back to gripping your ass cheeks and spreading them.
Spreading them so wide that, once again, you have to lift on your toes just to let him play with your body. Which, oh man. Always wearing his button down shirts, his blazers, his long-sleeve shirts. You can’t help it when you tug at the opened fabric of his shirt, asking silently that he shake it off. Wanting to see his arms, wanting to see the strength in them.
And he does it without hesitation, letting his hands fall from you just for a moment to shake his shirt off, only now hugging against you again and forcing a position change. He turns both of you so now you’re up against his desk, and he’s standing in front of you.
It’s easy for him to push you back in a kiss. Your legs open for him on instinct anyway, so he need not worry about prying those legs open again. You do just as expected when he pushes you too. Your ass hits the desk and you lift on your toes to sit on it. Your legs spread wider, making room for him to step even closer, cock right up against you when he closes any amount of distance, and still? He’s kissing you.
All across your face, down your neck, back to your lips. And his hands just keep feeling. Massaging your tits, lending small taps to your ass, holding your chin, jaw, neck, and then…he runs them through your hair.
The feeling is so good you almost forget how you’ve been trying to steal a glimpse of his flexing arms as he grabs at you. Goosebumps prickle and you let out a groan at the pleasure of it. He keeps one hand there now, smiling against his kiss to your ear.
“You like being pampered?” He asks, now gripping a fist full of your hair and skewing your neck to the side. “Like being moved around like a puppet?”
Never once have you thought about your sex life that way, but when you think about it…maybe. After all, you did enjoy being told when and how to touch yourself, being allowed or forbidden from cumming. Now, with him quite literally moving you around with just a simple grip of your hair? Yeah.
“By you–” You mutter out as you open your eyes, staring at the ceiling and feeling his tongue lap against your earlobe.
“Just me?” He leans back, using that same grip in your hair to force you to look at him. “You’d give me that power?”
You nod against the grasp, lips falling open in a moan despite not being pleasured by anything aside from the stinging against your scalp as he pulls little hairs a bit too tightly.
“You know–” Sunghoon starts now, pressing his hips forward, dropping his other hand to his cock and slapping it right against your weeping cunt. “If I had known you were this dirty...”He sighs out at the image in his head, thinking back to all those times he silently complimented you in his head. Back then, never would he have made comments about your legs out loud, or how your tits would look in certain shirts. Thinking back now, he’s always found you quite beautiful.
Quite fuckable, even.
You listen to the silence waiting for him to continue, feeling the way he presses the hardened head of his length against your clit repeatedly.
“I would have propped you up on this desk months ago,” He smiles now, leaning in real close to your ear as his grip in your hair loosens just a bit. “Could’ve had you moaning my name this whole time.”
Then, you feel it. The way he adjusts his weeping cock lower, prodding at your hole just a bit until his tip is entirely enveloped by your clenching walls.
You swallow a moan and hold your breath, legs shooting around his waist and instinctively trying to force his hips to move forward, trying to force him to penetrate you deeper.
“Shh,” He coos out, holding his hips firm and not letting you control his movements. Then, he kisses just under your ear before peppering them all the way back to your lips. He doesn’t kiss you though, no, he chuckles at you for trying. Watching you let your tongue fall from your mouth, inspecting the way you’re entirely in tune for him right now. “You really want it, don’t you?” He whispers just above your lips. “Want me to fuck you right here, right now?”
You nod absentmindedly, legs still trying to force him to move, arms clinging under his biceps, head still forced into whatever position he keeps it in by the hair.
“Please–Sunghoon.” You cry in a small voice, feeling as if you’re going insane by the feeling of his tip sitting comfortably in you.
“You’re so cute.” He smiles, lending you another inch of his length before letting his hand fall from your hair. There, he grips your waist instead, letting a strained grunt fall from his own lips this time. He’s really trying to remain collected about this, and he’s unsure himself why he’s enjoying the act of teasing you like this. He feels like he’s teasing himself more than you right now, seeing as how it’s taking everything in him not to stuff his cock into you hard and fast. “So–so, fucking cute.”
You clench around the few inches in you and it appears that’s all he needed to break entirely. Is he controlling you, or are you controlling him?
Honestly, who gives a fuck?
You feel his arms shake when he plants them at either side of you, pointing his cock straight into you and sliding in fully. There’s a groan from him that you want to hear so badly, but your own heart beat is thumping in your ears so loudly that you miss half of it.
The stretch is delicious, and the fact that it’s Sunghoon doing this to you makes this all the more enjoyable. The man who you’ve seen day after day, now holding himself up on the desk you’ve signed papers on with and for him? All so he can angle his hips and shove his cock in? Just to let his arms frantically wrap around your waist? Just so he can scoot you forward on this desk, using your leaking slick to slide you back and forth in time with his hips?
That groan you wanted to hear? He hasn’t stopped. He’s essentially, controlling the entire situation and when you half open your eyes to witness his face, you’re forced to roll your eyes back in a moan matching his.
He’s fucking you so deeply right now that all you can do is moan, all you can do is forget the embarrassment, the victimization, the way he’s doing this to you despite the risk of reality crumbling. He could lose his job, you could lose yours, and yet still– he’s fucking you like he doesn’t care.
So, you choose not to care either in the form of grabbing his hair, forcing his head back, and attaching your lips right against his adams apple. You feel him swallow and breathe out a shocked sound, and then? You suck.
Intentionally, you suck, bite, and lick, harder and harder until there’s a deep purple mark there. He doesn’t even fight it, though you feel him try to move his head just to keep you from going too insane with it. You don’t care though, because still you feel his cock splitting you open, forcing you to adjust to him.
“Ah,” Sunghoon lets out another breath with that familiar chuckle, “Marking me now?”
You hum a confirmation as you move to a new spot on his neck, absolutely fucking marking him. Feeling devastated by the idea that he’d do this with any other employee. Or any other person in general.
“Making me all yours, huh?” He continues with his cocky words, feeling the way your pussy clenches him tightly, dripping all over his desk. He’d let you make him yours, with or without the bruising from your mouth.
“Mhm.” You hum pleasantly, letting out little yelps each time he slams into you. Letting out full moans each time his arms wrap around your waist tighter.
You continue with the act, littering his pretty neck with your touch and loving how he just lets you. Knowing that he’ll show up at work tomorrow looking a bit tired, but glowing nonetheless, trying to hide all these marks with that tight-necked collar he likes to wear.
“Whatever you want.” He breathes, letting his hips lose rhythm for just a moment as he feels his muscles tighten. “Fuck, you’re still so tight.”
You feel like you’re on top of the world as he compliments you, to the point you’re not sure when you’ll cum because your whole body has seemingly been feeling euphoria anyway. Everything feels good, even if his cock reaches deep enough to cause little jolts of pain. The sound of the desk scooting back through the force of his hips is enough to make you take it. Enough to squeeze your legs around him tighter, enough to clench, enough to– forget what you’re doing and let yourself fall into it with him.
Your head falls back from his neck and you pant out little half-calls of his name with each thrust. Your legs loosen from around him too, but his grip on your waist only pushes you back on his desk. Until he’s leaning forward so hard with each thrust that suddenly your back meets the cold wood.
Sandwiched between him and his desk, he follows the action, his hands quickly moving from your waist to your tits, pushing them together just so he can nuzzle his face between them.
There, you look at him. You really look at him.
What a messy, messy, man. Always so pristine during working hours, now looking so wrecked and out of it as he chases a pleasure that you hope only you can give to him.
“Mr. Park–” You sigh out in a pleasant voice, watching the way he sucks your tit into his mouth before his eyes open wide just so he can look up at you through each thrust. “Harder.”
You can physically see the way his eyes darken when he pops off from your tit, hands now going back to the desk as he hovers over you and intentionally rolls his hips.
You feel his cock loosen you up painfully before he intentionally fucks into you. Dragging all the way out, just to push forward in a deep and painful thrust. Over and over again, all while he’s staring straight into your eyes.
As you look up at him, you see the intent in his face. The way he wants to give you exactly what you want. Sweat shining from his cheeks, his neck littered with pretty colors. Oh, he’s actually heavenly when he fucks.
Better than what you thought that guy on camera would have been. He’s not nonchalant like he was when he was performing. He’s entirely in tune with you and what you want. Like what you want is what he wants.
You can tell he’s paying no mind to his own face or expression, blatantly putting all of his thoughts into how he’s pleasuring you, his eyes searching your face to tell him he’s doing well. To tell him you feel good, to tell him you’re close or–
“Fuck–” He sighs out, teeth tracing his bottom lip as he glances up, keeping pace with the way he’s been plunging into you. “I can���t keep looking at you,”
You smile, feeling dazed and far away. It feels like it’s just you and him. You’re not in his office, on a desk, or doing anything you shouldn’t be doing.
“You hear me?” He drops his body weight on you again, letting his hips move freely as he chases and chases. “I’m so close.”
Oh.
“Then look at me.” You huff out, now shooting a hand between his flexed abs and simply…touching your clit once.
“Oh–shit.”
It hits you so fast. Just a simple touch causes your pussy to clench Sunghoon so tightly that he mimics your sound.
“Ah, fuck- fuck,” His voice sounds frantic as he tries to pull out, only to feel your legs shoot back around him. This time, he lets you force him to stay. He lets those legs of yours push him back in, so deep that he knows he can’t fight. “No, no–” He chokes out, uncaring if his hips show you that he’s lying with his words. “I’m cumming– I need to–”
“Stay!” You shake beneath him but your voice sounds pleading, pressing once more to your clit before letting it go. You clench him again, essentially letting your body finish him off. Letting those clenches squeeze him so tightly, making sure he couldn’t fathom ever wasting his cum. “Don’t pull out.”
He doesn’t. In fact, he presses impossibly deeper, trying to bury his cock into you to the point it even pains him. Arms shaking as he tries to hold himself up again, only to drop his lips to yours under his own weight. His hips are so tense between your legs, his cock is so stiff that you can feel each pumped release, and still you’re experiencing your own euphoria through it.
To the point your toes are curling and you barely notice the way you leave welts across his back from your fingernails through the intense orgasm. To the point his slack lips against yours feel more natural than anything else. Not kissing, just close. So close that–
He kisses you.
After it’s all said and done, he still kisses you breathlessly. Passionately almost, clinging to you as his cock twitches as it grows flaccid inside of you.
He doesn’t pull out, he just…kisses.
And as you lay against his wooden desk, body coming down from the pleasure you’ve felt more than once within the past hour, all you can do is let your brain think on its own. Without shame, without embarrassment or anxiety.
You thought Sunghoon would have been in control the whole time. Teasing you, maybe even making this experience more painful than it needs to be. But no, he…
He’s soft. Gentle, almost.
Only now do you recognize that as badly as he probably wants to appear harsh, like the confident man he is on camera, you think he needs something else. Not just power, not just money or control. Not even just fucking.
You think…maybe, Sunghoon needs connection.
Intimacy.
And that’s proven when he does finally stand on his own buckled knees, pulling you up with him into a hug where he still kisses you. Up until he takes that shirt you unbuttoned and holds it between your legs, scratching the back of his neck with a shy glance at you.
“Sorry for the mess.” He echoes in a meek voice, holding that shirt firm against you. “Guess I just couldn’t help myself.”
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Days later, you find yourself in his bed. Which should have been expected probably. Still doesn’t change the fact that every few hours, you remind yourself the reality of the situation.
It’s not just any bed you’re in. It’s Sunghoon’s bed.
“Oh, right. The promotion.” Sunghoon suddenly calls out mid-episode.
You’ve been here with him all day. To the point neither of you bother to put on clothes now because you know the spark will come back at any given time and you’ll be all over each other again. Still, lazing in his bed with him on a Saturday afternoon is nice.
“I’ve been a bit occupied but– the interviews for the assistant position has been pushed back a bit due to you not coming to work. I was supposed to notify you when you got back, but you know, we had priorities–”
Sunghoon sighs, embarrassed. It’s nice actually, seeing him in his natural element. Allowing you to see him as more than just the guy that wears a suit and tie every day at work.
“Unrelated to us…doing this, but, you’re up for the interview. Just need to schedule it with me. If you still want to be my assistant, I mean.”
“Oh, I can only imagine what that could entail.”
Sunghoon seems offended by this remark as he pulls back with furrowed brows.
“Excuse me?”
“Did you fuck the last one too?” You give him a playful smile, prodding at his soft-skinned chest.
“Absolutely not?!”
“You’re still gonna fuck me too though, right? Even if I’m constantly having to nag you for signatures and meetings?”
Sunghoon stares at you before smiling.
“Well, let's see if you get the job anyway. Rhonda from Marketing is applying too.”
You lend a half-joke gag at him.
“Is it too forward to ask for special attention for the position along with a sexual favor?” You tread the thin line. “I’m half joking but wouldn’t it be like…normal for us to be seen around each other at work if I’m working a job that requires it?”
Sunghoon thinks hard.
“You’re really asking to fuck your way up the ladder?”
“Aren’t you the one who offered it so I wouldn’t tell your dirty little secret?” You narrow your eyes at him. “But no, I’m asking for the job I’ve been trying to earn for ages. Besides, I’d still fuck you anyway.”
“Fair.” Sunghoon thinks harder still. “Rhonda would probably find out too, if she were to get the position anyway, considering my assistants are often intertwined in my personal business as well.”
“Oh, I’m personal business now?”
“Babe, my hand has been on your tit for an hour now.”
Well, he’s not wrong.
“Rhonda is really close with HR too…” You trail off, feeling a bit anxious. “I think she’d hold it over both of us if she found out.”
“In all fairness, you’ve been considered for the job more than a few times the past few months. Rhonda only applied during your two week avoidance of me. The reason she’s even up for the position is because my boss thinks you’re too flaky.”
Oh, so you have a chance with or without putting his dick in your mouth again?
“Who else has applied?”
“Confidential.” Sunghoon shrugs. “I still have to follow company rules even if we’re breaking a few of them right now. What I can tell you is, over fifteen other candidates have already been phased out by me personally.”
You pause.
“Why?”
“Bad matches, mostly. Two of them have been caught talking shit about me through the company emails, and the others? Many outside applicants, all freshman college students with strict schedules.”
“Being my assistant is not an easy job, and even before all of this, you’ve practically been doing the job already, better than the current assistant I have.”
You damn fucking right you have.
“How many are still in the running?”
“Two.”
Oh, this job is soooooo yours.
“Just, one more thing.” Sunghoon sighs. “If you get this job, we cannot be fucking in my office. No sexual stuff at work. We can take lunch together, or I’ll bring you home after work, but absolutely nothing at work.”
Oh, he thinks you want him that badly?
“Who says I need to fuck you during work hours anyway? I know how to control myself.”
“It’s not you who I’m worried about.” Sunghoon looks away, biting the inside of his cheek.
“Yeah?” You smile. “You gonna be calling me into your office just to torture yourself?”
“Oh, absolutely.”
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
pls remember to leave feedback and reblog! :D love you!
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this feeling i would give to you | ellie williams
summary: you're sick for ellie, she's just as sick for you.
a/n: heyyy how yall doin.. this has been in the drafts for months. (like a year. i apologize.) i wanted to try something different, kinda focusing on the "intimate" details of smut instead of "filth" type smut. soo enjoy
tags/warnings: 18+, mdni, smut, choking (kinda, ellie is holding your neck??), strap-on (r receiving), i think thats it.
it's insane, sick even; the way ellie affects you. the things she makes you feel and think. she makes you feel insane, how badly you want her, how badly you need her. you're desperate for her, for her touch. it almost feels wrong how much you think about her, the things she does to you. even some of the things she says to you, just her words; you can't help but feel that need for her again, and all those thoughts come creeping back in.
it always starts with her hands, whether they're grabbing your hips, your ass, or your neck—they're on you, always. ellie has a hold on you, physically and metaphorically. she's obsessed with that idea, obsessed with the hold she has on you.
ellie would grab your hips first, and pull you in against herself. pressed together like pieces of a puzzle, fitting perfectly. you'd take her like that, right in her lap. you'd stay like that for as long as you both could. you'd be looking up at her the entire time, so she could see it written in your face how good she was making you feel—just how you knew ellie wanted. she'd always tell you, “you look so fucking pretty like that.”
if you thought for a second you couldn't take anymore, ellie would remind you that you could. she'd put one hand on your neck this time, and use it to push you flat against the bed and keep you there. ellie thought you took her so well anywhere, but mainly there, it would be one of her favorites. where she could see you beneath her, whimpering all because of her. ellie would keep her grip on your neck, reminding you, “just like that, taking me so fucking good baby.” and when she does, you wouldn't be able to help yourself. you'd have to pull her in for more, locking your thighs against her hips. too much, but at the same; never enough of her.
but, ellie knows just what you like, too. she knows you want her to give it to you from the back. and you know ellie wouldn't hesitate to do that for you, and do it better than anyone ever could. you know she loves the view she gets too. but you know ellie wants you close. skin to skin, back to her chest, hand around your neck, so her lips could be on your ear. whispering, how good you are for her.
#ellie williams#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams smut#ellie williams fanfic#ellie williams imagine#ellie x fem reader#ellie williams x fem! reader#ellie williams x female reader#ellie williams x you#tlou smut#tlou ellie williams#tlou x reader#tlou fanfiction#ellie williams x y/n
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— 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞
➺ PAIRING: jeon wonwoo x female reader
➺ GENRE: boyfriend’s dad au, smut
➺ SUMMARY: your boyfriend’s manipulative father helps you get revenge in the nastiest way possible.
➺ CW/TW: yandere themes, slight obsession, age gap, cheating, manipulation, baby trapping, dry humping, panty stealing, mentions of masturbation, wonwoo is a depraved perv, dilf!wonwoo, nipple play, spitting, fingering, some cum play, unprotected sex, squirting, creampies
➺ WC: 4k
NOTE: don’t like, don’t read. @wonustars hope you like it <3
Wonwoo is a sick man.
He knows this, he acknowledges it, and most importantly, he hides it.
When people thought of Jeon Wonwoo, they thought of a respectable lawyer, widower, loving father of two. And they were right. He had never done anything to indicate otherwise. Not publicly, anyway. For years he’s hidden his most depraved side without letting anyone know it existed.
His facade all starts to crumble when his son comes home from college with a lovely girl who he’s apparently head over heels for. Wonwoo recognizes the starry eyed look in his son’s eyes, and instead of being happy for him, all Wonwoo can feel is faint disgust and disdain. It’s pathetic and vile, but it’s a feeling that he can’t get rid of no matter what he does.
It gets worse when you start coming around more often, prancing around in your little shorts and skirts like Wonwoo doesn’t get hard just seeing your exposed skin. He’s sick for stealing your dirty panties when you come over and using them to jerk off, but again, he can’t stop his despicable actions. His obsession with you only grows as time goes on, and eventually he decides that he’s going to have you no matter what.
The first step in Wonwoo’s sick plan is showing you just how lavish life is with a man who can provide. He ruthlessly cuts his son off, insisting that getting out in the real world and being independent is necessary. It’s easy to ignore his son’s protests and clamors about how unfair it is that his sister doesn’t get the same treatment, mostly because he sees how fast this strategy works.
When he overhears his son tell you he actually can’t buy you the bag you’ve been wanting he can see the disappointment in your face. Wonwoo is smart enough to know it’s less about the bag and more about the seemingly empty promise. It makes sense since his son can no longer pay for your food or makeup or any clothes you like. His son can’t even get you lavish gifts you’d grown accustom to.
That’s why when your birthday rolls around, you don’t expect much. It’s perfect because you don’t expect to be spoiled which makes your reaction that much sweeter.
“Mr. Jeon!” You cry out in shock when you open the bag your boyfriend’s dad gave you. “I-I don’t know what to say! This is– I mean—Thank you!”
Not only did he gift you an expensive bag that his son had failed to give you, he also got you the biggest bottle of your favorite perfume, some clothes, and a very expensive necklace. Wonwoo smirked smugly when you hugged him, loving how you pressed your entire body against his. His son couldn’t have known, but he saw the way you started to look at him with less appreciation. Of course, it was only natural. After all, all women loved a man who could provide.
The next step was something Wonwoo couldn’t really be blamed for. All he did was have his coworker and her pretty daughter over for dinner when you were away visiting your family. He can’t be to blame for the fact that his son is a weak man who hasn’t truly accepted monogamy. Sure, he did push it along by leaving two college kids alone in a house full of liquor. And yes, he was responsible for them often meeting up whenever you weren’t around, but again, it wasn’t entirely his fault.
The final step to this long winded plan was making sure you found out.
Wonwoo is lucky his daughter has more of a moral compass than he and his son combined. The second she realized what was going on, she didn’t hesitate to tell you. Admittedly, he was saddened to know how heartbroken you initially felt. However, when he saw you again, you seemed void of that. All he could see was your thirst for revenge.
Luckily for you, he was more than willing to help you make that happen.
You still haven’t broken up with Wonwoo’s son, much to his annoyance. In fact, you’re acting like nothing’s wrong even when you come along to their vacation home during the summer. His son is hardly paying you any attention and his daughter has gone off with her friends somewhere, leaving you to your own devices.
“Hey, babe. I’m running to the store real quick. Need anything?” Your boyfriend asks without looking up from his phone.
Before, he would’ve insisted you go with him. Things change, but you don’t care. Not anymore.
“No thanks. Be safe.”
He doesn’t kiss you goodbye, and you’re glad.
Your eyes drift over to Wonwoo, appreciating how good he looks. The perfect idea for revenge had occurred to you a while ago, and with the older man quietly sipping on some liquor on the couch, you know there’s no better time than the present to set your plan in motion.
Boldly, you get up from where you’re sitting and slide onto Wonwoo’s lap. Your panties are already slick with your arousal as you sit directly on his crotch. Dark eyes look at you in surprise when you gently start to grind your panty-clad pussy down without any qualms. All you do is smirk seductively before you go to kiss and suck on Wonwoo’s neck.
“Sweetheart.” Wonwoo groans, cock already hardening because of the wet heat that’s pushing down on him. “What about—?”
“Your son’s an asshole.” You say bluntly. “And I want him to feel as shitty as I do.”
You pull back, expecting Wonwoo to push you off of him or tell you what you’re doing is wrong. Instead he only laughs and goes to kiss you. A quiet squeal escapes you when he starts to lick into your mouth. You’re quick to melt into the kiss, moaning into his mouth when Wonwoo starts to guide your hips down onto his covered cock.
The sound of a car door slamming has you pulling away. You smirk when Wonwoo groans in disapproval. The wet spot you’ve left on his pants only turns you on even more, and all you do is wink at him before running upstairs to the guest room he provided for you.
The rest of the evening goes by without incident, well except for the fact that your boyfriend got a little too drunk on wine and was now passed out on the couch. His sister only looks at him with disgust and announces that she’s going to bed. You know the truth. Earlier, she confessed that she was going to sneak out to go clubbing with her friends. This was perfect since you were going to need her gone to execute your plan.
“Goodnight, Mr. Jeon.” You purr as you stretch your arms over your head, noticing his eyes drift down you where your skirt had ridden up.
You don’t bother to hide your smirk as you go upstairs. As soon as you get to the room, you leave the door open, slipping out of your clothes and putting on a tiny night shirt that came just above your belly button. You get on the bed and settle on your side, cunt still thrumming with arousal. All you can think about is getting fucked raw by your boyfriend’s dad, and you hope he hurries up and gives you what you want.
Slowly, you slide your hand into your panties, teasing your fingers across your swollen clit. It’s easy to lose yourself to the pleasure. Especially since your mind can’t stop replaying what happened earlier in the day. God, was Mr. Jeon a good kisser. Way better than his pathetic son. You mewl quietly, wishing the ache between your legs was being soothed by someone else.
Wonwoo almost cums in his pants when he sees you on the bed. You’re only wearing a small shirt and panties, which makes it easy to see what you’re doing. He smirks, slowly undressing himself as he approaches you. It’s funny how you don’t notice him until he slides in right behind you.
“Need some help?”
You pussy throbs in excitement, and before you can answer him, you feel his hand slip down your body to cover the one you have in your panties. The mewl you let out makes his cock twitch and throb. Wonwoo holds back a groan, ready to have you in the way he’s dreamed of for months.
“You have to be quiet, sweetheart.” His breath fans against your ears. “I can’t have my kids walking in on us when we’re just getting started.”
You almost tell him his sweet little daughter is out partying with her friends so there’s no real reason to keep quiet, but you resist. After all, no one would be able stop you from fucking the insanely hot man playing with your pussy.
“So fucking wet.” Wonwoo whispers hotly. “What were you thinking about?”
“You.” It’s easy to admit, especially because you can tell how much he likes it. “And how fucking wrong this all is.”
Wonwoo hums, and it somehow seems like he’s gloating. His fingers circle your throbbing clit over and over until you’re squirming against him. “Maybe, but you like it. That’s why you’re dripping all over my hand. You like your boyfriend’s dad playing with your pussy that much, huh, baby?”
“Fuck yeah.” You hiss, eyes falling closed when he pinches your wet clit. “You’re so fucking hot, Mr. Jeon. Way better than your pussy ass son.”
Wonwoo’s dick presses against your ass as he rolls his hips to grind against you. Juices gush from your cunt as he groans into your neck. “I fucking knew it—I’ve always known it. Even before you were grinding your wet pussy on me.”
You bite your lip, slightly embarrassed that he knew you were attracted to him this entire time. It’s not like you can be blamed. He’s one of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen, and obviously he felt some bit of attraction for you as well.
“Roll over and show me those pretty tits, baby.” Wonwoo rasps in your ear.
His words has more of your arousal coating his long fingers. You’re feeling hot all over, and you don’t hesitate to comply. You twist your body before you pull your shirt up to let your tits free. Immediately, your nipples harden under his dark gaze
“That’s it.” Wonwoo groans deeply as he rubs your pussy harder. “Prettiest tits I’ve ever seen. Fuck. Makes me want to suck on them until you’re creaming all over my fingers.”
You moan and arch your back into him. Wonwoo licks his lips and stops rubbing your pussy to pull off your panties. He grabs his cock and rubs it along your pussy. You cry out quietly when you feel his hot cock skip between your wet folds and drag against your clit and dripping hole. By now you’re panting, hips writhing from the stimulation. Wonwoo drags wet fingers up to pinch your taut nipples.
“You’ll let me suck on your sweet tits, won’t you, sweetheart?”
“Yes!” You agree immediately, feeling an arousing thrill when Wonwoo lets out a deep groan.
He twists your upper body some more until your back is against the mattress. Your hips are still twisted at an angle so his cock can keep rubbing against your pussy. The position isn’t uncomfortable, and you watch with anticipation as Wonwoo ducks his head to drag his mouth across the swell of your breasts. His eyes never leave yours when his mouth dips down to suck on one of your sensitive nipples. As you feel the hot wet suction, your eyes slip close with a whine.
You grind your cunt down on Wonwoo’s cock, dripping slick all over him. He moans against you nipple as he slowly drags his dick back and forth to stimulate you. The head of his cock leaks precum making your pussy messier and stickier. You drag your hand through Wonwoo’s hair, sighing and mewling as his hot mouth suckles on your hard bud.
“Fuck, just like that!” You mewl, arching your back to shove more of your tit into his mouth.
The next time he catches your gaze, you can see his pupils blown wide and a light blush spread across his face. It’s so attractive that more of your arousal drips onto his cock. Wonwoo then sucks a bruise on the curve of your breast, teeth gently digging into the soft skin. You gasp at the dull ache, pussy clenching around nothing.
“So fucking sweet.” His voice is low and raspy, tongue lapping at the bruise he left behind.
You whine and arch up into him more. “S-Shit, Mr. Jeon. This is so fucking dirty.”
He just grins at you wickedly, hips swirling against you so his cock brushes against your throbbing clit. Wonwoo starts to press wet kisses on your tits tenderly, dark eyes never leaving yours. “It is, and yet you still like it. That’s why you’re not trying to be quiet. You want my son to know your little pussy is aching for my cock.”
You moan loudly when he starts to roughly suck on your other nipple. He’s not bothering to keep his own moans quiet as he swaps back and forth between your nipples until they’re both puffy and sore. As he works his teeth and tongue on your hard buds, he grinds his cock up against your slick hole making you part your legs further.
“I know you want it, baby.” Wonwoo says after he’s satisfied with the marks he’s left on your tits. He rubs his leaking tip against your clit to hear you moan again. “Want me to split you open on my fat cock, hm? I’ll show you how a real man fucks.”
“Fuck—please.” You whimper desperately. “Need you to fuck me, Mr. Jeon.”
“Call me Wonwoo, sweetheart.” He groans as he gets up and positions you so you’re fully on your back.
You mewl when Wonwoo rests his dick on your stomach. The sight is dizzying in the best way—an arousing image of how deep he’ll reach inside you once he slides into your pretty pussy. His leaking tip is almost to your belly button, and he wishes badly that he could take a picture. Wonwoo licks his lips as slowly rubs his cock through your slippery folds, covering it with your juices. His fat tip brushes against your clit and makes you whine.
You moan when he eases his cockhead past your slick folds. The squeeze of your hot cunt is tight, and it makes Wonwoo roll his hips into yours, fucking himself deeper into your clenching pussy.
“Wonwoo!” You mewl, already feeling so full even though he’s not even all the way inside.
Just hearing you moan his name has him thrusting forward and burying his cock balls deep inside your wet pussy with a deep growl. You cry out loudly, tits bouncing at his roughness. Wonwoo’s large palm immediately covers your mouth, cock throbbing inside you.
“Shh, baby. You don’t want us to get caught do you? What would my son say is he walked in and saw his dad fucking his girlfriend’s tight little cunt?”
You moan against his hand, pussy clamping down on his dick tighter than before. Wonwoo clicks his tongue, slowly grinding deeper into you. The thought turns him on too, more than he would ever admit.
“Oh? You like that?” He hums as you buck your hips up to meet his slow thrusts. “What a dirty little slut.”
Wonwoo keeps your mouth covered as he slowly fucks your cunt. All you can focus on is how stretched open your pussy feels. You keep whining and moaning as he bullies his cock into your fluttering hole. Even though they’re muffled, the cute little noises you’re making are driving Wonwoo closer to the edge.
“You’re so fucking tight, sweetheart.” Wonwoo groans. “Feels like you’ve never had a cock this big stuffing your little pussy.”
Wanting to hear you, he removes his hand.
You shake your head before you moan out an answer. “You’re the biggest—fuck—I’ve ever had.”
Wonwoo’s cock twitches inside you as he goes to cover your mouth with his. You two share a series of wet kisses between your filthy moans. His thick cock keeps rutting into your squelching pussy and slamming into the spongy spot inside your cunt that makes you keep tightening around him. At this point your mind has gone fuzzy. All you can think about is the man on top of you and the orgasm coiling in the pit of your stomach thanks to him.
In the haze of skin slapping together and the arousing scent of sex, Wonwoo feels like he’s found heaven. He’s absolutely thrilled to have you how he’s wanted since he first saw you. After months of planning, he finally has you trembling on his cock. Wonwoo groans lowly when you squeeze even tighter around him. You whine, moving your hips to meet his thrusts.
Wonwoo smirks when he sees your fucked out expression. He can’t care that his son is passed out downstairs while he’s quite literally fucking his sweet little girlfriend’s brains out. It’s what you deserved after all the hell his idiot spawn put you through.
“Looks like you’re already addicted to my cock, baby.” His laugh is so attractive that it makes your pussy flutter.
A deep pleasure shoots up your spine as Wonwoo fucks you hard and deep, plunging his cock into your sopping cunt. You cry out his name, feeling a pleasure you never have before. His hand moves between your bodies to flick and rub your sensitive clit.
“God, sweetheart. Fucking love how your sweet cunt squeezes my cock.” He groans in delight.
Wonwoo’s fingers keep rubbing your sensitive clit until your back arches off the bed. Wet slapping and loud squelching fills the room as the coil in your stomach abruptly snaps. Your legs clamp around his slim waist at the same time your cunt tightens around his dick, milking him for all he’s worth as your arousal gushes around his throbbing length.
“That’s it, baby. Milk this fucking cock.” Wonwoo growls as his hands spread you open even more. “Fuck. I’m gonna fill you with my cum and watch it spill out of your pretty pussy.”
You whine out, wanting nothing more. “Yes! Fill my pussy with your cum!”
Wonwoo growls into your skin, ramming his dick straight into your sweet spot until he reaches his own climax. With a loud moan of your name, he spills his hot cum inside your cunt. Thick ropes of his seed paint your walls as he keeps stuffing you full until it leaks out around his cock.
It feels like you’re stuck in a blissful haze, and it’s only until Wonwoo slowly pulls out of you that you come back to your senses. His eyes are dark as he watches his cum slowly drip out of you. It’s an erotic sight, you’re sure, and you can’t help but want more.
“Wonwoo.” Your voice comes out in a sigh. “Think you can go again?”
The older man groans in his throat. You’re insatiable, and so is he. Fuck. He knew you were perfect for him.
“For you? Always.”
Your eyes roll back when the bulbous tip of his length nudges your tender pussy. Wonwoo smirks and presses forward. His aching cock penetrates you in one deep thrust. Large hands hold down your squirming hips as he sheathes his big cock to the hilt. Wonwoo groans when your juices spill around his girth. He leans back and lets a string of spit falls straight onto your pussy. The filthy action makes you moan wantonly.
“Your sweet little cunt is driving me crazy, sweetheart.” Wonwoo hisses as you clench around him.
Your hot cunt is pulsing and soaking his cock as if you’re claiming it as your own. It makes him smirk. Wonwoo keeps pounding into your creamy cunt until only lewd squelching and pornographic moans fill the room. He can’t even think about his son anymore. All he cares about is splitting you open and molding your tight pussy to fit the shape of his dick.
“You just love this cock, don’t you, baby?” Wonwoo moans.
“I do—Fuck. Feels so fucking good!” Your voice is loud, and you’re both beyond the point of caring. “I love your cock. Love how you fuck my little pussy.”
His fat cock is splitting you open deliciously, weeping tip reaching your cervix with every strong pound of his hips. You’re already close again, and you know this next orgasm is going to be more intense than the last. Wonwoo seems to feel it too because he keeps driving his cock into you savagely until your thighs are trembling around him. His cock is piercing directly into your g-spot then drawing out, letting you feel every vein before plowing back into your sopping mess. His rough thrusts never lose their strength or depth. Not when you scream and convulse around his cock.
“God, you’re such a nasty slut.” Wonwoo groans. “You don’t even care that your boyfriend can wake up any moment and find you dripping all over his dad’s cock.”
You manage to smirk at him. “He has no right to be angry. Not when you’re fucking me better than he ever did.”
Wonwoo smirks back at you, thrusting deeper if possible. Your depraved words make a sick thrill shoot straight to his cock. It turns him on more than it should. Dark eyes are glued to your sopping cunt. The sight of you stretching to take his cock is so hot that he almost cums right then.
“Oh my god!” You cry out as your pulsing walls constrict around the dick ramming into you.
You let out a loud cry when Wonwoo’s spit lands where you two are connected. A guttural groan escapes him when your pussy squeezes his throbbing cock and your juices spill all over him. You topple over the edge he’s been pushing you toward, squirting all over his cock and abdomen. Your release covers him, dripping down his cock and to his heavy balls.
“Cum in me!” You plead loudly. “Stuff me full again!”
Wonwoo’s fat cock keeps sliding along your convulsing walls. The tip of his cock slams into your spot unrelentlessly, making you see stars. You keep falling apart as the older man uses your body how he wants.
“Just look at your pretty little pussy, squirting all over this cock like you own it.” Wonwoo’s grin looks wolfish and unfairly attractive. “Now I have to fill your slutty pussy like I own it.”
Wonwoo groans your name deeply. His hips are flush between your thighs as he presses to the hilt, his fat cockhead rutting into your most sensitive spot. Your toes curl tightly as you scream out his name once again. All you can see, feel, and think about is your boyfriend’s dad. His hot cum fills you up, coating every inch of your wet walls, stuffing you to the brim.
The older man falls forward a bit and buries his face in your neck, biting your sweaty skin and fucking his cum deeper into you. In your aroused daze, you can’t recognize how intoxicated he is over the feeling of you and your tight cunt.
When Wonwoo finally he pulls out, his hand lands on your tingling core. He cranes his neck to watch his fingers enter your hole. Licking his lips, he gently fucks his cum back inside you and gently toys with your messy pussy. Growls rumble in his chest as his cum slips out of you and down to your smaller puckered hole. The sight makes his cock twitch and ache all over again.
“My cute little slut.” Wonwoo coos as you slowly start to drift off to sleep. “All nice and bred—just like I’ve always dreamed.”
You look precious while you sleep, and Wonwoo can’t help but feel completely satisfied that he came inside you while you were ovulating. His son was such an idiot for not cherishing you how you deserved, but it was for the best.
Now you were all his. Only his.
#wonwoo smut#svt smut#jeon wonwoo smut#seventeen smut#wonwoo x reader#wonwoo imagines#wonwoo x you#svt x reader#svt x you
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I'm genuinely sorry, I was really tired and couldn't think of the word that mad pride movements use. I'm new to all of this. I thought you would be more open to it because you've reblogged from radical leftists (anarchists and communists both) within the past couple of weeks and they're all for Veganism afaik. The argument that all brains are different but equal and should be treated the exact same is a primary aspect of mad pride from my understanding, and that speaks to me about animals just having different brains, and that they don't deserve to be exploited and killed for us just because they're different. I'm not spamming people with it, but I was inspired by an ask by a nonvegan and started asking popular bloggers why they weren't vegan to open up conversation and potentially change people's views on animals. If I've made you uncomfortable I'm sorry, though I admit I'm really confused by your standpoint. You do know that the only reason communism hasn't succeeded is because of America? Anyway, sorry again, I'm also autistic and I didn't mean to dismiss your legitimate dietary needs. Can I recommend acti-vegan's posts? While I understand that you can't go vegan, perhaps their blog will at least help you understand our points, they're much more well-written than my asks and they have plenty of legitimate science resources at hand. Thanks for listening, I'll take your advice into account. I'm not trying to not listen, it's just frustrating because so many people say they get it but they don't change, and if they truly got it they would, you know?
Okay, I get that you didn't mean to be offensive, and fuck knows I shouldn't throw stones when it comes to forgetting specific words. (This happens to me fairly frequently; it's a thing.)
The argument that all brains are different but equal and should be treated the exact same is a primary aspect of mad pride from my understanding, and that speaks to me about animals just having different brains, and that they don't deserve to be exploited and killed for us just because they're different.
So yesterday I actually wrote out and then deleted a whole paragraph to the effect of "part of my deep, deep frustration with animal rights activism hooks into my commitment to the phrase 'nothing about us without us,' because I frequently see the same kinds of emotional projection without making the effort to listen to animals on their own terms from animal rights activism groups."
The first thing I need to make clear to you is that this--veganism and animal rights activism (ARA) more generally--is not new to me. I am in my mid-thirties and I have never had a job of any kind that did not revolve around animals in some way, I've spent time in rescue spaces and vets and universities, I'm queer and I have spent most of my life in leftish progressive circles, so it's kind of hard to miss.
Essentially, you are proselytizing to me as if you were a newly baptized evangelical convinced I had never heard of Jesus, because if only I had heard and understood his holy word, I would be converted instantly to his light! It's not any less irritating when the belief system isn't explicitly a religion.
More under the cut, because this one is long.
Disclaimer one: Veganism isn't synonymous with ARA ideology, but it's deeply entangled with it, and ARA ideology drives the movement of veganism as a (theoretically non-religious) ethical decision. And I object very strongly to the framework imposed by ARA activists. When I say I am not vegan, I am saying that I have considered the ethical framework that underpins veganism as an ethics movement and I have deliberately rejected it.
The second piece of context you should know that when I talk about being a behavioral ecologist, I mean that I'm a researcher who works on animals and that my framework is rooted in trying to understand animals in their own natural ecological context, without necessarily comparing them to humans. There's a lot of ways to study animal behavior you might run into, including attempts to understand universal principles of behavior that transcend species (animal cognition) and attempts to understand how to better treat animals in human care (animal welfare). You know Temple Grandin? Temple Grandin is an ethologist (the field that gave rise to behavioral ecology, also focused on animals within their species context) who worked on animal welfare (finding ways to make slaughterhouses less stressful to livestock, among other things).
Third point: my profession also means is that I work directly with animals--in my case, currently mice--and that I do not think research with animal subjects is wrong as long as all efforts are made to ensure maximal welfare and enrichment for the animals involved. This is another major bone of contention politically between my entire field and ARA groups, and you should know that I have also spent my entire professional career under the shadow of, well, people who care strongly enough about those ideas to invade my workspace and potentially seize my animals and "free" them into a world they do not have the tools to survive in.
So there's where I am coming from. Let's get back to what you're saying. Here, I'll quote again in case you have the same crappy short-term memory I do.
The argument that all brains are different but equal and should be treated the exact same is a primary aspect of mad pride from my understanding, and that speaks to me about animals just having different brains, and that they don't deserve to be exploited and killed for us just because they're different.
Point the first: Even within humans, I don't think that all brains should be treated the exact same. Especially in a disability context! After all, what is an accommodation if not an agreement to treat someone differently because they need certain things to access a space? Accommodations by definition fly in the face of this "treating everyone the same" understanding of fairness. I think all (human) brains are equally valuable, and I think all brains are worthy of respect, but I do not think that it's wise or kind of me to assert that everyone should be treated in the same way. For one thing, I teach students. If there's one thing teaching has taught me, it's that a good teacher is constantly assessing and adjusting their instruction to meet students where they're at, identify failures of understanding, and keep the attention of the classroom.
Point the second: animals do have different brains from humans. That does not mean that animals are inferior, but it does mean that they are alien. There's a philosophy paper, Nagel, What Does It Mean to Be a Bat, that you might find illuminating on this front. Essentially, the point of the paper is that animals have their own experiences and sensory umwelts that differ profoundly enough from humans' that we cannot know what it is like to be a different species without experiencing life as one, and therefore we must be terribly careful not to project our own realities onto theirs. That is, our imagination cannot tell us what a bat values and what it experiences. That is why we have to use careful evidence to understand what an animal is thinking, without relying on our ability to identify with and comprehend that animal. I have watched ARA groups deliberately encourage people to shut their reasoning brains off and emotionally identify themselves with animals without considering within-species context for twenty years. This is a mainstream tactic. It is not an isolated event and for that reason alone I would be opposed to them.
Point the third: there is a definite tendency in lots of people to care deeply and intensely about both animals and people who are seen as "lesser" in status--children, poor people, disabled people, etc--just as long as those groups never contradict the good feelings that come from the helper's own assessment of themselves and their actions. In humans, when the "needy" point out that some forms of help are actually harmful, the backlash is often swift and vicious. This is why animals are such an appealing target of support and intervention. They can't speak back and say "in fact, you are projecting my love of this frilly pink tutu onto me, and I think it's uncomfortable and prevents me from walking." They can't say "I kind of like it better when I don't have to worry about getting hit by a car, actually?"
(By the way: this is also why it's offensive to compare disabled people to animals, because this is generally done at least in part to silence the voices of disabled people speaking for our selves and our communities. We have access to language, and we use it, thank you.)
All forms of animal welfare intervention going right back to the founding of the first RSPCA have been incredibly prone to being hijacked by classist, racist, and otherwise bigoted impulses. This is because animals offer an innocent face for defense that conveniently cannot criticize the actions taken by their champions, and they therefore provide a great excuse for actions taken against marginalized members of human society. Think about the very first campaign the RSPCA ever did, which was banning using dogs as draft animals: a use that is not inherently harmful to dogs, which many dogs actively enjoy, but also one that was specifically used by poor Londoners and which in fact immediately resulted in a great butchery of the dogs that Londoners could no longer afford to feed rather than allowing poor people and their dogs to continue working together. No one was, of course, challenging the particular uses of dogs or any other animal favored by the wealthy. This kind of thing is so, so, so common. Obviously it doesn't mean that all interventions to prioritize animal welfare are inherently bigoted, but it does mean that we have to be critical about our choice of challenges.
On top of everything, the animal rights activist movement's obsession with "exploitation" is a function of the idea that humans are sinful or otherwise Bad in how we interact with animals by definition. For example, take the chicken rescue near me that is so obsessed with the possibility that some human somewhere might benefit from an animal in their care that they implant every hen they adopt out with hormonal implants such that the hens no longer lay eggs--a function that is normally a natural byproduct of a chicken's reproductive system, fertilized or not. A mutualistic relationship involves both parties benefiting, and that is the case for an awful lot of human relationships with animals. In general, the idea that associating with animals is a thing that can only harm animals rather than being a trade between two species to enrich one another is all over these groups. It's just so myopically focused on human shame that it prevents practical interventions that might benefit everyone, and often promotes interventions that don't directly benefit animals but sure do make humans miserable. For example, this kind of thinking is why groups like PETA are absolutely awful at effectively rescuing unwanted dogs and cats: they think pets living in "bondage" with humans are an essentially sad outcome, rather than one that might be mutually enjoyed by all parties.
I'm tired and my meds haven't kicked in, so I'm not currently going to handle the communism thing except to point out that while the US absolutely did destabilize a number of leftist regimes in South America and Africa, Russia and China between them have certainly not treated their own people kindly, either (and more so their own client-nations, as with the former members of the USSR). Please do some reading about the Holodomor and Lysenko in Russia (and frankly all of the details of Stalin's regime) and the Cultural Revolution in China in particular. Khmer Rouge might be worth looking into, too. I am not saying the US's hands are clean, you understand, because they are not; they're as steeped in red as anyone else's. What I am saying is that for people living on the ground, communist revolutions have this nasty habit of turning into bloodbaths and arbitrary slaughters. Do not let your distaste for the US's bloodsoaked imperialism (which, yes, is and was bad) let you fall into the trap of becoming a tankie.
And if you don't know what a tankie is, you really, really should take some time to learn.
#animal welfare#just#don't do this#when someone says “no”#please fucking listen#there's another essay in me somewhere on the painfully obvious sublimated dynamics picked up from Christianity all over this movement#but I do actually have work to do today including that ventral pallidum post I have been poking at
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✎. he tells you they’re the problem and leaves it at that before sliding a plate of eggs and toast in front of you.
tags. fem!reader, mild dubcon, possessive and obsessive behavior, but he's also kinda sweet?? [18+ only]
You like your new roommate.
Simon’s surprisingly better to have around than the last person who lived with you—a girl you knew from college who had an affinity for stealing your clothes and conveniently never had money for rent. He’s the type to make you soup when you’re sick, acknowledge you if you’re in the same room, water your flowers while he rolls his cigarettes on the fire escape, and carry your groceries up the four flights of stairs to your floor.
He’s attractive, too, in the not-so-conventional sense, but in a disarming way, all small smiles and knowing looks and soft hair you know he doesn’t put much effort into—that sometimes curls around his ears when he lets it get too long—yet it still manages to look better than yours on the best days.
He never tells you what he does for work, and you’re too polite to ask. But you have a feeling he makes enough to afford a place on the less crime-infested side of town—somewhere nicer than your cramped apartment with its outdated appliances, leaky faucets, and the bright neon sign atop the building across the street that shines through your windows all times of the day—but he says he’s not ready to live alone.
Something tells you there’s more to it than him being a lonely bachelor, but again, you don’t pry.
“Does this place have wi-fi?” is all he’d said the first time you meet, in a voice so smooth and only slightly broken up by his accent, clad in a shirt that looked two sizes too small around his arms and clutching a duffle bag in one big hand.
Your brain was this shaken-up box of words and syllables that when you answered him, it came out in a nervous stutter. “Y-yeah, I’ll, er…I’ll give it to you—the password, I mean—once you've moved in. If that’s okay.”
He’d dropped his duffle bag in front of the room that would be his. “Consider me moved in.”
The smile he gave you, crinkling eyes and chuckling lightly, only made the stutter worse.
You let his charm roll off you; you always figured it came naturally to him, a characteristic that comes with being attractive and good.
A handful of months later—of finding a routine around each other and lazy smiles in the morning—something changes the night you go out with a guy Mary from work eagerly sets you up with.
His name’s Robb, he’s a doctor, and you both love cats; he has a house in Spain. Did I mention he's my cousin?
(A dull no way concealed behind your teeth.
If you hadn’t said yes, you feared your entire lunch break would consist of her waxing poetic over a man you're unsure about meeting.)
For a flicker of a moment, there’s an unreadable expression on Simon’s face as he watches you touch up your makeup in the hallway mirror and slip your hand into the crook of your date’s elbow at the door. There’s a slight glint of something uncharacteristically cold behind the mask of indifference before a small smile replaces it.
“Have a nice night,” you throw over your shoulder, except you don’t notice that he never says it back.
You mope around the apartment when Robb—who surprisingly exceeded your expectations of mediocre dates, not that you ever plan on admitting that to Mary—doesn’t reach out to you for three days. Then a week. You’re at that age to understand when people get busy, and a nice night doesn’t always mean it’s mutually reciprocated. But you liked him, and it felt promising after he’d kissed you goodnight against your front door.
It had to have been the kiss that turned him off. Maybe he realized it was too much too soon.
When Simon finds you curled up in a ball under your comforter, one thumb gently wiping away your tears, he doesn’t even bring up your date. Instead, he orders your favorite take-out and puts on a sitcom you’d mentioned to him once—somewhat surprised that he remembers—the dreamy doctor who’d ghosted you blissfully forgotten with greasy food and a warm, comforting chest to rest your head on.
Simon’s there again—sweets in hand and a soft voice to soothe you—when another date (Rin from finance on your floor) a month later is a no-show, and a few weeks after that when Rin tells you without context that he can’t see you anymore.
The third time of let downs feels worse. It’s worse because maybe there’s something wrong with you, and when you ask Simon, he’s too nice to rub salt in your wounds. He tells you they’re the problem and leaves it at that before sliding a plate of eggs and toast in front of you.
You've been Simon's roommate for a year, and he doesn't take it well when you tell him you're looking for a new place.
It’s after he comes home from a three-month work trip. The shadow that crosses over his face should’ve been your first hint that something is wrong.
Had you noticed the signs sooner, you wonder if you’d be less like prey caught by the softness of your underbelly, kept in place by the scruff, and sharp teeth at your neck.
"Beg me. Beg me not to cum in you."
"S-Simon," you whimper wetly, "don't cum in—ah—me."
His fingers hold your chin with an unyielding grip, ensuring your gaze doesn’t stray from his in the cracked mirror. You’re embarrassed by what you see, how spread open you are to his dark, inkwell eyes hungrily watching as you twitch when his other hand slides between your thighs.
"Don’t stop begging, love,” he growls, squeezing you tighter, “or I might forget."
There’s that dark look again, the one that sends a shivery feeling up your spine, possessive almost with how he traces every inch of you as if burning the image of you into his memory, the softness washed away by something more sinister.
A little voice in the back of your head tells you to flee, but another knows he'd find joy in catching you.
No one would ever think your sweet, attractive roommate would be the same man staring at you now—everything you thought you knew about him stripped away to reveal a new canvas, bare for splashes of paint to fill in the cracks—teeth marks imprinted along the curve of your jaw, on the inside of your thighs.
He hides it well. His humble personality doing the trick of being the impenetrable mask for what he’s concealing underneath: a raw obsession, an addict finally getting his hands on his favorite drug, someone who can’t recognize defeat and knows how to take.
“What do they have that I don’t? Hm? Must be a desperate little thing. My pretty slut,” Simon’s voice rumbles low against your ear, shy of unhinged. “They won’t treat you as good as I do. Don’t I treat you good?”
You whimper when his grip grows tighter, but he doesn’t seem to notice—like he’s not fully here with you. No trace of the soft, gentle man who keeps the freezer full of your favorite ice cream, who runs to the store when you run out of tampons and comes back with chocolate and a new pair of fuzzy socks. A few words have turned him into someone you don’t know. Perhaps you never did.
“Answer me.”
An indiscernible squeak is the only sound you make.
He chuckles darkly, his head dipping down to rest his lips against the fluttering pulse in your neck, a finger slipping through the alarming amount of wetness between your thighs where his cock rends you down the middle, and begins rubbing firm, tight circles over your clit, pulling a moan from your throat.
“It’s okay, love,” he mumbles, words barely audible above your heartbeat swimming in your ears. “I’ll be everything for you. Everything you need. I’ll show you why I’m better.”
#ghost x you#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley smut#simon riley imagine#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#ghost x reader#ghost smut#ghost imagine#cod smut#cod x reader#cod imagine#mw2 x reader#mw2 smut#.things i write
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NSFW Boxer Anakin Skywalker (hcs)
boxer!anakin who refused to fuck you for the longest time because he feared he might hurt you. no matter how much you told him you would be fine, he would never move past making out with you until your panties were drenched and your lips were bruised.
boxer!anakin who kissed you like he was eating you out, his tongue mapping every single crevice of your mouth, his hands gripping your head to keep you still.
boxer!anakin who ate you out after a solid hour of begging, his stitched lip and slightly askew nose that was covered by a bandage making it feel that much better. his rough fingers held your folds apart so he could run his tongue all over you, leave you wet and dripping with his spit. he kept going until he was satisfied, not paying any mind to your pleas nor how many orgasms he had just tongue-fucked out of you.
boxer!anakin who fucked you for the first time after his first world champion title. he was moving slow and steady at first, clearly holding back until you told him to stop being a pussy and just get on with it, because you were sure he didn't just win by being "slow and steady", and nothing mattered to him more than proving himself to you.
boxer!anakin whose rough, calloused hands mapped every inch of your skin, had you trembling before he even took your panties off. his broken, bandage clad fingers fucking into you until you came all over them, sullying the rough and dirty material. the same two fingers were then shoved into your mouth, your tongue running all over the tightly bound fingers, making him snap.
boxer!anakin that was so pussy drunk he made no sense of anything or anyone around him, not even you. his eyes simply wouldn't leave the sight of your dripping, gaping hole that he kept pushing himself into, filling it up with load after load, your legs thrown over his shoulders and your arms pinned down next to you so he could have his way with your pretty little cunt, his pretty little cunt.
boxer!anakin who showed you how rough and mean he truly could be after losing to some pussy who had brought you up during the pre-fight encounter, told him he could fuck you better, ruin you the way he was going to ruin your boyfriend. he wasted no time in letting his lips find yours once he got home, the only thought in his head being to break you on his cock, make sure you never even began to think of letting another man touch you. and one thing anakin was good at was trying over and over again until he was sure he succeeded.
boxer anakin: sfw hcs , smut ೃ࿔*:･
#ꨄ lanita writes#anakin skywalker#anakin fanfiction#anakin skywalker imagine#anakin skywalker smut#star wars anakin#anakin smut#anakin x reader#anakin x you#anakin skywalker x reader#anakin skywalker x you#anakin skywalker x female reader#star wars smut#hayden christensen#hayden christensen x reader#hayden christensen smut#x reader#smut#headcanon
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ghost is off limits. not just emotionally or romantically, but physically. you have seen the aftermath of when someone so much as bumps into him or brushes past his arm in a tight hallway. they learn very quickly that lieutenant riley isn't to be touched, not even a little, not at all. (18+)
ohhhh but not for the medic. your touch is clinical. necessary. ordered. ghost glares, but he does not tell you to go away when you make your way into captain price's office. it's late; they just touched down not even ten minutes ago, exhausted and burdened by an op that took a few weeks of their absence.
he smells like sweat, like grime, and you can taste the sand in the air when you take a seat next to him. even seated, he is taller than you. he takes up a ridiculous amount of space, dwarfing the office chair he sits in. you set your kit down on your captain's desk, turning to face your lieutenant.
"uhm...could you show it to me?"
he huffs in annoyance before he pulls his tactical vest over his head, tossing it onto the floor. you swallow, blinking, focusing, as he unzips the jacket he wears and lets it fall at his feet. your lips part a little as he reveals the strength of his arms, tight muscles straining against the shirt he wears and showing off the sleeve of ugly military tattoos that are sunburnt along one arm.
gorgeous, giant man, but then your eyes take interest on the nasty gash along one arm, a jagged wound that stretches nearly from shoulder to elbow. it looks angry and irritated, much like the look in his eyes.
when you put your hands on him for the first time, he flinches. not because he is in pain, but the feeling of skin against skin is so foreign, like a wound of its own. you blink up at him, soft and sweet, and you show him your hands, what you're doing with them.
"just going to clean it out and stitch you up, lieutenant. promise i won't take too long."
but he likes it. the way your soft palm cups his scarred forearm, running a cloth over the lines of blood that trace along the length to his wrist and drip onto the floor. the warm drag of your fingers pushing his skin together so you can hook the needle through and stitch him up solid and effectively. those easy, gentle strokes, threading through skin as you would hem a skirt, a pattern that you have not forgotten that is now being weaved onto his very body.
he'll wear your stitch pattern like a patch he has so dutifully earned. and you will wear his marks just the same, yes she will, the good girl that she is.
when you finish, he grunts, flexing his fist to gauge the tautness of his skin and the way the wound burns as he stretches his arm. he tilts his head to the side, glaring. your hands rest easy there, still pressed up against him, and he nods at you expectantly.
"open y'r mouth, sergeant."
and you do. because he's your lieutenant, and he has given you an order. he hikes his mask up, revealing a disgusting grin and the sharp edge of a torn lip, a face mangled beyond recognition. when he spits in your mouth, he tastes just as you expected--like sand and smoke.
"now swallow."
and you do, but not because he's your lieutenant, it's something else, something more. not afraid, but intrigued, somehow not put off, but needing sustenance.
when he crowds you in the infirmary later that night, you don't understand. you don't understand the sudden need to touch, the way he grips your ass, the nasty way he bites at your jaw and pushes your pants down your thighs and puts his cock between your thighs.
he promises he won't fuck you, promises he'll be nice this time, but it's hard to discern between reality and heaven when he lets the tip catch on your clit with every frantic stroke. you squeak with every rough thrust, pressing your ass against his pelvis as you arch your back, wanting to see his face, wanting to kiss him, wanting to make this tender and soft and a little romantic, but that isn't ghost.
ghost is mean. ghost isn't a giver, he's a taker. ghost is made of sharp edges only, broken glass on all sides, it's such a shame his cock is so nice and so big and so good, lieutenant, please, i need it--
"need more," is what you beg, even though you know he can't give it to you. you know, but he does it anyway, he slips a big hand between your thighs and opens you up, and you cry when he finally sinks deep, hoisting you up, your back tight against his chest as he learns how quiet the voices in his head are when he's so deep in your pretty, pretty pussy.
he slips another hand around your throat, baring it, giving himself room so he can bite at your neck and lick over the salt and brand you with the evidence of the reprieve he refuses to give, but you don't care, all you can do is smile.
you know his secrets now, the things he would never tell, the things he can't say out loud.
it's almost frightening that you don't really care if he has to kill you to keep you quiet.
#if the last thing i do before i die is fuck simon riley then this life was worth it 🤠#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#ghost mw2#ghost cod#ghost call of duty#ghost mwii#ghost x reader#cod#call of duty#simon riley smut#simon ghost riley smut#simon thoughts#dark!ghost
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[ NUZZLE ] sender presses their face into receiver’s neck
quinn hughes bringing his girlfriend home to meet his family and he has never brought home a girl before so his family knows she must be very very special and he is always talking about her! it’s very sweet and soft and she just fits in the family so well and makes quinn so happy
A Keeper - Q. Hughes
hockey masterlist || g's graduation celly
synopsis: Quinn finds himself at the lake in the off season, and this time, he isn't flying solo
word count: 3.6k
warnings: none! losing game seven
For as long as Quinn could remember, his whole life revolved around hockey. He’d wake up, eat a quick breakfast, go to hockey practice, shower, eat lunch, sit and watch film, come home and take a nap, then go back for another practice or a game. Everything he has ever known has been hockey. Hockey took up every moment of his life, every single thought.
But since that buzzer went off signaling the end of the final period of game seven, Quinn couldn’t think of hockey anymore.
He wasn’t the type of guy to cry, well, not in public at least. But standing on the ice at that moment, staring up at the scoreboard and seeing the final score, he felt that all too familiar burn behind his eyes and in his nose. He glanced around at his teammates, all of them wearing the same shocked and sad expression on their faces. He didn’t dare look over at Arty, knowing that the young goalie was going to be feeling this loss harder than anyone on the team, even though they all played in the game.
You stood off to the side as Quinn answered a couple of questions for the press. Your heart was also feeling heavy and you had that same all too familiar feeling of unshed tears in your eyes. You were so incredibly proud of your boyfriend and his team. The way they were able to turn everything around from the previous season and give Vancouver a play-off berth in over a decade was something to celebrate about. And, even with that knowledge, all you wanted to do was pull Quinn away from the press and give him a hug and a thousand kisses. You could tell just by looking at him he was physically and mentally exhausted. But Quinn wasn’t going to be rude and brush off the media, he was the captain. He would gladly stand and answer the dumb “how are you feeling after the loss?” question so his guys can go home and rest.
When Quinn was done, he silently walked over to you, grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers together. He silently led you towards the parking garage, wanting nothing more than to speed out of Rogers Arena and back home to your shared apartment. It was as if the fans knew that he wasn’t in the mood to stop and sign autographs like he usually did, instead they all seemed to give him space as he left the rink.
The two of you seemed to move in silence as you walked into your apartment. You took Quinn’s bag from his hand, as he walked towards the bedroom. You were putting his clothes into the washer when you heard the shower turn on. You laid out a pair of sweatpants for him to put on when he was done, and went to start making him some tea. By the time he was done showering, you were sitting up against the headboard, scrolling briefly through social media, with a mug of camomile tea in your other hand. He quietly crawled into bed, and you shifted so he could lay down next to you. You held your arms open as he laid his head down on your chest.
“I’m proud of you,” You said, running your hands through his hair.
“Even though I lost,” He muttered.
“You might’ve lost this one,” You pressed a kiss to his forehead, “But you’ve won so much more.”
He looked up at you, tired green eyes locking on yours, “I love you.”
“I love you too, Q.”
— — —
You were a ball of nerves.
You had never been the type to get nervous. Usually, you were so sure and confident in yourself, but there was something about flying across the continent to meet your boyfriend's family that had your stomach in knots. Quinn had assured you that there was nothing to worry about, that they already loved you.
Ever since you landed back in Michigan, it was like the weight of the world had been lifted off of Quinn’s shoulders. You guys stuck around for a couple of days after the loss, Quinn having to do exit interviews and pack up his things. Quinn only packed one bag to go back to the lake (oh, and his precious golf clubs), while you seemed to pack your whole closet. Quinn couldn’t help but laugh at you as you were quickly shifting clothes from your suitcase to his in the middle of the airport because your bag was over the weight limit.
“I should’ve told you that we could go shopping when we get here,” He said, one hand on the wheel and the other one intertwined with yours, “Get you a whole new closet to keep here for when we come back next summer.”
“Okay mister ‘i make eight point six million a year’,” You playfully rolled your eyes, “And who says I’ll be invited back next year?” Quinn gave you a look, “What?!”
“You’ll be invited back next year,” He chuckled, “There’s only ever been one person I didn’t want to invite back.”
“Hey, that’s not nice. Trevor is a nice kid,” Quinn shook his head with a laugh, “But I’m serious. What if your family doesn’t like me and doesn’t want me-”
“They are going to love you, Y/N,” Quinn pulled your hand to his lips, placing a kiss on the back of it, “They have been begging me to fly back so that they can meet you. My mom has been sending me texts and asking me about your favorite foods and hobbies and card games.”
You couldn’t help but blush and look down at your lap. You haven’t met Quinn’s family before, but from what he described, you can tell that they are very close. Quinn talks to his middle brother, Jack almost every day on the phone, and either texts Luke or calls him a couple times a week. He values his time with his family almost as much as he values his time on the ice with his teammates.
“And here we are,” Quinn announced as he pulled into the driveway of a beautiful two-story lake house. Excitement and anxiety filled your body, making your stomach turn. Your hands felt sweaty as Quinn jumped out of the driver’s seat and the front door opened at the same time. A boy with longish brown hair and a similar face to Quinn came rushing out of the house, barefoot and shirtless.
You watched as the two men embraced each other in a hug, another boy walking out of the house. He was slightly taller with curly hair, but had those same dark eyebags as Quinn. You slipped out of the car, walking up to the three boys who were engaged in a conversation. It was like Quinn had a sixth sense for you being near him, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you into his side, easing some of your nerves.
“And who might this be?” The long haired boy asked, a smirk playing on his lips.
“This would be my girl,” Quinn looked at you, “Y/N,” Heat arose in your cheeks as he looked at you like you hung the stars and the moon.
“Well I’m Jack,” The long haired boy said, holding his hand out to you. You chuckled nervously, shaking his hand, “And it's a pleasure to meet the girl that has my older brother drooling.”
“I am not drooling,” Quinn shot back.
“Basically are, Q,” The taller boy said, “I’m Luke.”
You shook his hand too, “It’s nice to meet you guys, finally. Quinn has told me so much about you. It’s good to see your healing well, Jack.”
“Thanks,” Jack nodded, “Been a long season but I’m glad I got this taken care of,” He massaged his shoulder, and you could see a slightly still puffy, pink scar, “But don’t think I can’t beat your ass at pool, Q.”
“I’d like to see you try, Rowdy.”
“Boys!” A woman called from the doorway. You looked around Luke to see a beautiful blonde woman standing there, her hands on her hips, “Let your brother and his girlfriend get settled before you start your pool tournament!”
“Yes mom,” Both Jack and Luke said. Quinn chuckled as he pulled you towards the front door, letting Jack and Luke bicker about who was going to carry your bags in.
You squeezed Quinn’s hand as you walked up to the matriarch of the Hughes family. You had read up on Ellen Hughes when you had met Quinn. She was an incredible woman, being a former hockey star herself and raising three incredible players. You felt another wave of anxiety rush over you as she looked you over, her eyes similar to Quinn taking you in. It felt like you were standing in front of a judge; a judge who was going to decide if you are worthy enough for her eldest son.
“Hey mom,” Quinn greeted her, leaving your side to give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek, “Good to see ya.”
“You too, baby,” Ellen said, and held her son at an arm’s length. She tsked, grabbing his chin and running a finger over the scar on his cheek, “That should’ve been a damn high stick.”
Quinn chuckled, “Not much we can do about it now. Besides, it adds to my cool factor.”
“Mhm,” Ellen nodded, and playfully rolled her eyes, looking back towards you.
You mouth felt dry and you stepped forward, holding your hand out to Ellen, “I’m Y/N, it’s nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Hughes.”
It was silent for a moment, probably not as long as you felt like it was, but it was long enough, before Ellen pulled you in for a hug.
“Handshakes are for business partners and old men,” Ellen told you as she gave you a squeeze. And just like that, all the tension you felt had melted away. Ellen pulled back and held you at arms length, the same way she did with Quinn, “My son seemed to be hiding you away,” She looked at Quinn, “Why were you hiding her away? You talk about her all the time.”
Quinn chuckled, grabbing you gently out of his mother’s hold, “Because I wanted to keep her for myself for just a bit longer. I know once I bring her home, I’ll be fighting for her attention.”
“Well, start fighting now,” Ellen said and you chuckled, “C’mon, I just finished making some sangria. The boys can take your stuff to your room.”
For several hours, you sat in the kitchen with Ellen, getting to know her. It started off with just small talk; asking where you are from, what are your parents' names, what do they do, what do you do for work, how did you meet Quinn. Then the conversation transitioned into how to make the perfect cheesecake, something Ellen was famous for in their neighborhood back in Michigan. Before you knew it, you and Ellen were making dinner side by side, while the boys sat out on the back patio with their dad, Jim, watching the grill.
“The boys used to volun-tell me to make raspberry cheesecake for every single end of season potluck,” Ellen shook her head with a laugh, “Oh I wanted to strangle them sometimes, cause of course, they never told more than a day or two in advance.”
“Oh of course not,” You giggled, “Quinn signed me up to bake cookies for one of the Canucks charity events. Told me at eight o'clock the night before that he needed me to make three dozen chocolate chip cookies.”
“Boys,” Ellen playfully rolled her eyes.
“What about boys?” Quinn asked as he walked into the kitchen.
“Oh nothing,” Ellen said, wiping her hands on the towel thrown over her shoulder, “Y/N makes a better sous chef than you.”
“Taking my job?” Quinn looked at you. You nodded your head, “Traitor. This is my off-season gig,” He reached over to grab a cube of watermelon, but you swatted his hand back, “Hey!”
“This is for dinner,” You scolded him. Quinn walked around to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, “Quinn, your begging isn’t going to make me cave.”
“Please,” Quinn whined, “I lost game seven.”
“Two weeks ago!”
“I’m still wounded!”
“Fine,” You muttered, grabbing a cube of watermelon and turning in his arms to face him, “Because you lost game seven. . . two weeks ago,” You fed it to him and he smiled.
“Thanks baby,” He kissed your cheek before heading back out to the grill.
You shook your head, going back to placing balls of cookie dough on the baking sheet. It was quiet and you could feel Ellen’s stare on you as you worked, causing you to overthink every little movement you made. You paused, looking at the cookies before looking up at Ellen.
“Did I mess something up?” You asked, fear rising in your body.
“Hm? Oh, no,” Ellen shook her head, “It’s just. . . he never used to joke about the games he lost. In fact, it was almost like a taboo subject to bring up any losses around him. It’s. . . refreshing to see him like that.”
You blushed and nodded, going back to work, a small smile on your face.
Dinner went off without a hitch. Jim had grilled enough hamburgers, chicken and steak to feed a whole hockey team instead of just the six of you. You fell into comfortable silence as you watched the Hughes family interact with each other. It was like no time had passed by them at all, as if they weren’t spread across North America and in different time zones. You felt comfortable and at ease with them. And Quinn could sense that as he looked at you.
“Feeling okay?” He asked, nodding towards your barely touched plate.
“Yeah, I feel fine,” You smiled, picking up your fork, “Just. . . taking it all in,” You sighed. Quinn smiled and placed his hand on your thigh.
Ellen and Jim shared a knowing look across the table, watching you and their son interact. They were both taken aback when Quinn first mentioned a girl in his life. Quinn was always so focused on hockey that personal relationships (unless they were centered around hockey) came second to him. It wasn’t that Ellen feared that her son was going to be alone forever, she just knew the kind of man he was. She knew that hockey wasn’t going to be around forever, that there would come a time where Quinn would retire from the game, and she wanted him to have someone who would be there for when that time came. She wanted him to have someone for when he came home from those long roadies or hard fought games. She wanted him to have the kind of partner and relationship that she has with Jim.
When dinner was over, you and Quinn packed up the boat, putting a small cooler of seltzers and water, a couple of blankets and towels. Quinn gave you one of his sweatshirts to wear, knowing that it would get cold once the sun went all the way down. You sat next to Ellen as the boys and Jim, pushed away from the dock, ready to set out on a slow sunset cruise around the lake. Quinn took up the captain spot, while Jack and Jim navigated, Luke opted to sit next to you and his mom.
“So, who is the best driver?” You asked, looking at the three Hughes boys.
“Oh for sure me,” Jack scoffed.
“You only have one functioning arm,” Luke pointed.
“It wasn’t chopped off,” Jack rolled his eyes, “I can still use my hands.”
“Whatever you say, Bucky Barnes.”
You giggled and looked at Ellen, “They always like this?”
“Got worse with age,” Ellen sighed, “I was a little worried when they all went into the NHL. I have known some families that the competition gets the better of them, and they don’t talk anymore. But not these three. I think if anything, they talk more now than they ever had.”
You smiled, “Quinn talks about them all the time. He has me record their games so he can watch them back after his.”
Ellen’s heart swelled at your words, “He told them about you first,” You blushed, “Jack can’t keep a secret to save his life, and he texted me asking if I knew that Quinn had a girlfriend and I said no, and then Jack launched into this whole story that Quinn told them about you,” Ellen chuckled, “When Quinn told us about you, I told him I already knew.”
“What did he say then?” You asked.
“He said ‘of course Jack told you’,” You laughed and Ellen smiled, “It meant a lot to Jack that you sent him flowers after his surgery, and Luke when you sent some after his Calder nomination. They won’t admit that, but I know it.”
“They mean a lot to him,” You gestured towards your boyfriend and his brothers who were sitting at the front of the boat, “So they mean a lot to me too.”
Quinn glanced at you from where he sat, a smile on his face as you talked to his parents. His parents were two of the most important people in his life. He valued their opinion on almost everything, so it meant something to see you so easily getting along with them. His heart felt warm when he heard your laughter at a, no doubt, embarrassing story his dad was telling.
“So when are you going to propose?” Jack said, pulling Quinn out of his trance.
“What?”
“You got a ring yet? I bet you got a ring already.”
“Huh?”
“You’re going to marry her!” Jack exclaimed, “And don’t even lie, I can see it. I have a sixth sense for these things.”
“Yeah, and I talk to ghosts,” Quinn rolled his eyes. But his younger brother was right. Even though you and him had only been dating for six months, Quinn had already imagined proposing to you, getting married, buying a house, and hopefully, having a family. Quinn had never felt this way about someone before, and he would be lying if he wasn’t a bit scared of his feelings, but one look at you and all those fears melted away.
“Whatever man,” Jack waved him off, “As long as I get to be the best man, I won’t complain.”
“And who says you will be the best man?” Luke asked, “If anything, I think it would be me. I never broke his xbox controller.”
“Luke, you’re literally like seven,” Jack scoffed, “It won’t be you.”
“I’m twenty.”
The sun was completely down by the time you guys had made it back to the dock. Quinn expertly parked the boat in the hoist, and helped you out, before raising it back up. Jack and Luke had run back to the house, shouting something about getting a fire started, Ellen and Jim walking hand in hand behind them. You stood on the dock, taking in the dark lake in the final strands of light from the sky.
“No wonder you guys run away to this place at the end of the season,” You said, “It’s so peaceful here. I love it and I’ve only been here a couple of hours.”
Quinn chuckled, “It feels like this is the one place on earth where I can be just Quinn Hughes. Not the hockey player or the captain of the Canucks. Just Quinn.”
You turned around, draping your arms around his neck, “Well I like it, Just Quinn,” He smiled at you, his hands resting on your hips, “Thank you for bringing me here. For letting me into your life.”
“Of course,” Quinn’s voice was full of sincerity as his thumbs brushed over your hip bones, “Thank you for being in my life. You’ve made me a better person.” You tilted your head up slightly, placing a kiss on his lips. One of his hands cupped your cheek, while the other one tangled in your hair, deepening the kiss. When you pulled apart for air, you rested your forehead against his, wanting to just stand in his embrace for a moment longer.
“Hey lovebirds!” You broke apart, like two teenagers being caught by your parents. But instead of your parents, it was Jack, “Quit sucking face! We’re making smores!”
“He is such a child,” Quinn huffed. You laughed, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the house.
“Yes but you love him.”
“Unfortunately, I do.”
You sat on Quinn’s lap, your legs dangling off the side of the chair, by the fire, as Jack and Luke argued about how toasted a marshmallow should be for the perfect smore. Ellen and Jim sat across the firepit from you and Quinn, enjoying having their kids back home. Your eyes were growing heavier by the minute, the heat from the fire, being in Quinn’s embrace and the exhaustion from traveling finally catching up to you. Quinn could feel your body growing heavier and heavier with sleep, his hand running up and down your back, a soothing motion that he knew would lull you to sleep.
“Tired?” He asked, looking at you.
“A bit,” You yawned, “But I don’t want to go to bed yet, having too much fun.”
“Just close your eyes,” Quinn whispered. You nodded, nuzzling your face into his neck. He leaned his cheek on top of your head. It wasn’t very long after that, that Quinn could feel your breathing start to slow, until you were sleeping in his arms. He looked down at you, a soft smile on his face, as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.
“She’s a keeper Quinn,” Jim said, raising his can of beer towards his son, “She’s gotta be a special one to deal with you.”
“Yeah,” Quinn said, his eyes still on your sleeping frame, “I’m not letting her go anytime soon.”
note: I am thinking of creating a tag list. Is that something y'all would want? also, requests are open!!
#qh43#Quinn hughes#Quinn hughes imagine#Quinn hughes fan fic#Quinn hughes fan fiction#Quinn hughes x reader#Quinn hughes x oc#hockey fan fic#hockey imagine#hockey fan fiction
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can i request a paige smut where like the reader had pissed her off BADDD (in whatever way you see fit) and so paige fucks her with the strap BUT the reader keeps like pushing at her abs and ahitbtryna het her to slow down which in return pisses her off more…pls :)
i love you 😭
₊⊹༉‧₊˚.˚ · .ׂׂૢ·˚ ༘ you can take it,,
paige bueckers x fem!reader
“i don’t wanna talk to you dude.”
paige was absolutely furious. you missed one of the biggest shots of her career— a score-tying buzzer beater that ended up saving her team and securing them a win in overtime— all because you were talking to a guy in the stands. she was so excited to talk to you about it, for the both of you to share that excitement. so you could imagine her disappointment in hearing that you didn’t see it.
“paige are you serious? i’m sorry alright? i got to see it on the replays, it was really good.”
you try to reach out for her but she shrugs you off again, and now you’re pissed too. the guy was your classmate that spotted you in the crowd and wanted to say hello. you had apologized about a trillion times for missing the shot, still affirming to her how awesome it probably was in the moment.
it only made her feel worse when the guy approached you again at the end of the game. hadn’t he taken enough of your attention already?
“just leave me alone. if you want to be entertained just go talk to that guy again anyway. let him stare down your shirt for all i care.” paige throws her shirt into a corner of your room, littering her sweaty garments around your room.
“is that was this is about? a guy?”
she rolls her eyes, flopping onto your shared bed. she scrolls through her phone to avoid your gaze because she doesn’t want to say something she regrets. her legs are spread, creating space that in any usual situation you’d gravitate towards.
you stupidly decided to tease paige after finding out the true root of her anger. half-naked, you crawl towards her legs on the bed and seat yourself right on her lap. your hand pushes her phone away for her undivided attention.
you were probably going to regret this later.
“you know what we were talking about?”
she knows she shouldn’t give in just by the look in your eyes, but she does anyway. she’s a sucker for you.
“well he kept asking if i wanted to leave with him. i told him i had a girlfriend but he wouldn’t take no for an answer,” you lean closer, lowering your voice, “you know what he told me paige?”
“what?” she’s near breathless, anger still lingering because this guy seems like a douche.
“he told me he’d fuck me so good if i left with him. said he’d fuck me better than you ever could.”
“fuck off. don’t fucking piss me off.”
“he was cute. maybe-”
“paige!”
she’s rutting into you relentlessly, the same way she has been for the past hour. you’ve been squeezing around her strap like a vice the entire time from one position to the next.
after you teased paige earlier all she saw was red. she knew it wasn’t true, but the fact that you even uttered the words had some insane affect on her. she instantly had you on your back, purple strap heavy between your thighs. ever since then she’d been thrusting into you, never stopping or letting up unless she was finding a new angle.
she’d effortlessly coaxed you through three orgasms already and you were definitely feeling the effects. your thighs shook as she held them flush to her body, eyes glued to your face that was twisted together with pleasure.
you were so fucked out you hardly realized your girlfriend’s hand trailed down to the heat between your legs. her thumb rubbed sloppily against your throbbing clit, your eyes shooting open with a pornographic moan. the feeling was overwhelming and made your body shake even worse because, how many times had she done this?
“oh fuck- paige i can’t..”
“yeah you can baby. want you to cum for me.”
your orgasm feels different this time, sensitivity heightened and you can’t control it. she’s so deep and she’s filling you so good, thrusting hard and with so much purpose.
“bet that guy couldn’t make you feel this way huh?”
you’re nodding at her words because she’s right. no one has ever or could ever make you feel better than she does. she knows it.
paige continues stimulating your already over-sensitive bud, pressing harder and faster to match the pace of her hips. you moan out a high-pitched screech and mumble incoherently as your back arches off the bed so much paige has to push you back down. the pressure on your stomach sends you over the edge, sheets tight in your grasp as you finish.
she soothes your sides by running her hands up and down your body, slowing her thrusts but never stopping. you’re attempting to push your body up the bed but her grasp on you is firm and bruising.
“one more baby.” you’re still delirious from the last orgasm and she’s already speeding up her pace.
fuck her and her cardio.
you finally let go of the sheets, reaching out to push at your girlfriend’s abs. “paige please, i can’t. s’too much p.”
she’s immediately pulling your hands away, pushing them above your head as she leans over to whisper in your ear, “you can take it.”
she’s offended that you even suggested you couldn’t. her large hands find your hips again, pulling your body further down the bed and onto her silicone dick. your mouth fell open with a moan and you didn’t know if it was from the feeling of her splitting you in half or her persistence. probably both.
“tryna push me away,” she groans, “don’t be stupid baby.”
she pulls your legs over her shoulders with urgency as she snaps her hips against your own. the burn is finally catching up with her but she doesn’t even care because all she can focus on is you and the way you’re moaning her name.
you gush around her, cum dripping and soaking your sheets. the shake of your body vibrates against paige and encourages her to thrust impossibly faster, a whine escaping past your lips. she’s too good.
the all-too-familiar feeling forms deep in your abdomen again. you shift your hips, chasing your release as your hips angle down. paige’s last thrust makes you cry out, the bubble of anticipation for your orgasm popping. even paige moans as she stills because she swears she can feel you throbbing around her.
a sigh escapes you when paige pulls out. you feel incredibly empty after being filled for so long, a quiet whimper sounding through the room at the new feeling.
paige slips the strap off quickly. once she does, she resumes her previous position between your legs. she’s being gentle as her hands glide over your skin to massage the ache away. it’s a large contrast to her harsh thrusts only minutes ago.
“you did so good, ready to go again?”
“again?” you’re in disbelief as her legs slot with your own, leaning back ever-so-slightly so her pussy meshes with your own. the feeling makes your legs twitch and you’re already moaning at the barely-there friction.
“you didn’t think that was it, did you?”
₊⊹༉‧₊˚.˚ · .ׂׂૢ·˚ ༘
i hope i did this request justice!!
actually partially spell-checked this time 🤗
#paige bueckers#paige buckets#uconn wbb#paige bueckers smut#paige bueckers x reader#uconn huskies#uconn women’s basketball#lgbtq#lgbtqia#lesbian#paige bueckers x oc#paige bueckers headcannons#paige bueckers fic#paige bueckers imagine#paige x reader#wlw slay#wlw imagine#bisexual
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Gojo Satoru
TW: implied noncon, desperate starved reader, God!Gojo
gn reader
based on this by @hawnks
He's revered, but reverence only makes one beholden—it doesn’t make those beholden his belongings. Even pets run away.
He could take lives, which some of his fellow gods might view as ownership, but right when he ran out of places to wash the blood off his hands, he’d sooner found it to be an empty pastime bearing no merit. Taking lives doesn't mean they belong to you—it just means they’re dead.
He'd come to realize that the power to take is a far cry from the prospect of actually owning something. He could level a forest and everything in it, crush mountains to deserts, and drink the entire ocean dry—but it wouldn’t make any of it his.
It leaves him feeling stingy when yet another measly human comes before him—on your knees with your forehead bowed in the dirt, skinny hands shaking while laid flat out before you, cracked lips crying his name.
With his chin propped in his palm, he yawns while listening to you, and with jaded eyes, he nearly dismisses you altogether. But there’d been a question he’d been mulling over lately—one that had found its way to the tip of his tongue.
“What do I get in return?”
You’re only asking for very little—one of the humbler humans who still bother praying to him. You might see it as greedy of him to ask you for something in return—a poor soul with nothing but your sorry name. But what you don’t understand is that you and he are the exact same.
In reality, he can hold the entire world in his palm, but none of it would ever be his. Infinity would pan on forever and drag him with it as if with a ball and chain—and he’d remain destitute and alone for the entirety of it all.
Which is why…
“You can have me, I guess…”
It sounded so sweet—like a vow.
You say it with such defeat, as though you’ve already accepted his rejection—as though you’re about to offer yourself to the forest next—as though you're worth nothing more than returning to soil again.
You don’t notice the new light in his eyes that threatens to swallow you whole, nor do you hear the growl in his gut like a beast awoken from a deep slumber—starved to death if he only could. His tongue swells with sweetness, it nearly runs over and spills down his chin.
Your offer hangs still in the air, poised and waiting for him to grab it, brighter than a star. It nearly frightens him—how much he wants it—how desperately he yearns for it. His fingertips buzz with thrill as he reaches out. He’s never held something like it before—soft and warm and flickering with something fleeting and precious. It almost feels wrong for him to hold it in his blood-soaked hands. Eyes all but blacked out as he looks down at it.
“Mine, you say?”
You feel it, too, but it’s not close to the same sense of elevation—how he reaches into your chest and scribbles his name on your soul. Each letter is heavier than the last and leaves you curling in on yourself in agony before the god.
You’re panting once you look up, clutching your chest, only to see his sneer gone, replaced by something worse—something haunting.
The regret is palpable. You pick yourself up and take to running away—but by then, it’s too late. You don’t make it more than two steps before something has you tugged right back—this time into his embrace.
“I accept your generous sacrifice, little human.”
His words weigh awfully heavy while you shudder in his lap. His skin is like marble—shimmery and cold as his hands wrap around you, holding you tightly as he puts his lips to your neck.
"I'll take precious care of you..."
You feared he’d bite, but the kisses that commence feel no less like a collar being fastened snug around your throat. As well as his promise—like being sentenced to spend eternity right there, hand-fed under that awful smile on his face.
#yandere jjk#yandere jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujustu kaisen#jujutsu gojo#jujutsu kaisen#gojo smut#satoru gojo smut#gojo satoru smut#gojou satoru x reader#satoru gojo#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#gojo saturo#jjk gojo#yandere gojo x reader#yandere gojo satoru#yandere gojo#yandere satoru gojo#jjk smut#jujustu kaisen headcanons#gojo headcanons
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Another reminder that Greek mythology is always somehow symbolic, metaphorical, allegorical, since we are dealing with anthropomorphic personifications and other embodiments of cosmic powers.
For example: Demeter has sex with both Zeus and Poseidon. Something-something about the relationship of the Earth with the Sky and the Sea (or the celestial and chthonian powers). ESPECIALLY since these relationships are said to happen at the beginning of the world, in the primordial times during which the world settled itself for what it is now.
Herakles' wedding with Hebe, the personification of youth, checks in with when he becomes an immortal god (aka, an eternally young entity). What better way to symbolize a hero escaping the clutches of death than by him becoming the husband of the spirit of eternal youth?
Why is Hestia never leaving Olympus? Something-something about her being the literal personification of the hearth, which is at the center of the house/community and does not move.
Why is Ares getting his ass kicked by Athena? Because Athena is civilization, and Ares savagery, and in the Ancient Greek mindset intelligence, wisdom and craft will always be above brutality, bloodlust and random cruelty.
Do I need to spell it out that the myth of Persephone-Hades-Demeter is about the cycle of the seasons, and how the earth renews itself and brings back life after a time of death?
And I wonder why Ares' companions during his mass-slaughters are called Phobos, Deimos and Eris - Fear, Panic and Discord... Why would the goddess that breaks harmony and sows feuds and chaos be depicted as the close sister of the god of the ravages of war and of the brutality of conflicts, what a strange mystery!
And I can go on, and on, and on. Remember, the Greek gods aren't just super-heroes or wizards (that's more in line with more "humanized" mythologies, like the Irish or Nordic ones). They are embodiments of concepts and ideas, personifications of natural forces and cosmic powers, they are living allegories and fleshed metaphors. Zeus wields the lightning because he IS the lightning and thunder. Dionysos is both the bringer of joy and madness because he IS alcohol. Hades is both the name of the god of the dead, and of the realm of the dead. Hestia's name is literaly "hearth" in Greek, Hebe "youth", Nyx "night", Gaia "earth", Eros "desire". You can write "Eris met Helios at Okeanos' palace" or you can write "Strife encountered the Sun at the palace of Ocean" and that is the EXACT SAME THING!
[Mind you to limit the gods to being JUST allegories is also a mistake not to make. Greek deities are much more than just X concept or X idea... But one part of the myths will always be, down the line, some weather metaphor or some natural cycle motif]
#greek mythology#greek gods#this is also for almost all other mythologies in the world#but we'll stick with greek for now#greek goddesses#greek myths
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!# — scented candles | bcn
genre: smut, fluff
pairing: chan x inexperienced!fem!reader
wc: 3.2k
warnings: oral (f receiving)
author's note: this is both a request and part of the inexperienced series ( @whatudowhennooneseesyou )!! hope you enjoy <3
Distant sounds of your long-nailed fingers tapping against the keyboard of your laptop sounded through Chan's small dorm room, your knuckles aching from the time you've spent behind the device. It smelt of honeyed vanilla, thanks to the scented candle you had gifted him to your one month anniversary — you fondly remember that Chan hadn't had a present for you back then because he'd never celebrated monthly anniversaries with pervious girlfriends, and how enamoured he had been by your small present. He didn't dare light the candle by himself — it only ever burnt when you visited him, when it was the two of you in his college dorm room, not him in lonesome.
It was long past sunset, the only light in the room the soft glow of the candle, the static hue of your laptop and the endless reds and blues and neons of the city outside the small window. You always preferred Chan's room to your own — his view was far prettier, overlooking the entire city you had both moved to for your studies, which was the reason you had met altogether. A city so small, so mundane. Yet it held your entire fate.
You weren't much noticing the sound of your typing, or the faint chords of a long repeating playlist somewhere in the back — you also weren't much noticing Chan shifting in bed next to you tirelessly, from left to right and back. He knew not to distract you in his studies — it was the very thing he had noticed first about you after all, the very first thing he fell in love with.
You had sat in the library, brows furrowed, thick glasses sitting low on your nose. He had almost tripped over his feet, had been clumsy right in front of the table you had sat at. When you had looked up at him, shifting up your glasses with a gentle movement of the finger, and had asked if he was fine, he had been done for. He had nodded, had shamelessly asked for your number. Chan had giggled over your confused face — as though asking for your contact was something entirely unfathomable. You had been confused, but had handed him your phone so he could save in his contact; ever since then you hadn't left each others' side.
Chan knew not to distract you in your studies, but you had sat behind your laptop ever since the sun had sat high on the sky — he ought to make you take a break by now, surely. Not only because he was bored out of his senses in the bed behind it, and not because staring at you from the side became tortureous. It had been hours, and he could only eye your barely covered body so much. It was hot, and he didn't blame you for your decision in clothing — a flimsy tank top, and old shorts you surely didn't choose purposefully, not to drive him crazy, simply to flee the hot weather. But every fibre of his body was fixated on you — on the way your thighs spilled over in the short pants, the way the plush flesh rested on the old dorm room chair. He was fixated on the way your chest curved in the tight top, the way the soft flesh of your arms moved with every of your move, whenever you typed yet another sentence into your Word document. The way your breasts moved whenever you did — the lack of a bra causing them to float like water, your nipples perking up beneath the fabric, subtle and everything but intentional, was all Chan needed to have his insides heat up, for a soft sheen of sweat to cover his palms and the skin of his forehead.
And he couldn't do anything but stare. He couldn't say he put in the same effort into his education as you did — he was hard-working and passionate, but in different aspects than you. He never much stayed in class longer than he needed to, didn't know any professor by name. There were days he'd skip classes altogether; though you influenced him far more than he did you, and guilt made him drag himself to college more times than not.
He could only stare, and let you work, because he knew like no one else the urge to finish assignments when it was long past either of your bed times. He could only stare — but he could also do something against the growing, urging fire in his chest. The one igniting with every further second he looked at you, kept his eyes on your figure. He ought to make you take a break, because it was far too late to be working, and because you would have long dragged him off the table as well, if he was the one behind it. He ought to; surely, for your wellbeing. Not because of the tightening in his chest, not because of the arousal coursing his body the further your glasses slid down your nose — not at all, he would never be so selfish.
Chan stood from the bed, stretching in the process — his legs were almost numb, having lay next to you for seeming hours on end, without much occupation. You had proposed throwing on a movie just so it would run, had asked if you should study in your own dorm room altogether, so Chan could do whatever he pleased to do. Though the man had shook his head; he had been, much to your bashful surprise, perfectly happy simply watching you study. He had laughed when you had grown shy over it, but had accepted it nonetheless.
Yet boredom had struck the man eventually; it was less boredom than it was infatuation, sudden and primal, though the outcome was all the same — he stood behind where you were sitting, peering over your shoulder to read the essay you were writing. Your fingers were working fast, your hair smelt of vanilla and honey, and Chan could feel the warmth your body emitted; he was a goner.
You hadn't paid him any notice, so when his hands draped softly over your shoulders you jumped, making the man scoff out in amusement.
"You definitely need a break if you didn't even notice me standing behind you, babe.", he chuckled, voice soft and undisturbing of the silence of the night. He started massaging your shoulders, the pads of his thumbs caressing the knots beneath your skin well enough you let out a quiet moan, which got the man hard, instantly. He had never heard this sound from you. He would do anything to hear it again.
You stretched out your tired arms, cracked your knuckles. You raked your head to catch a glimpse of your boyfriend standing behind you, messy hair and sleepy eyes, a soft smile plastered on his lips. You sighed. He looked so inviting, screaming of comfort and warmth, of relaxation — but your essay wasn't even half-finished, and the deadline for it came nearer day by day. Ever since you had started dating Chan there had been moments you wished for your perfectionism to vanish — it would allow you more time with your boyfriend, and wouldn't take so much a toll on your nerves, atop that.
You looked back at your laptop screen, the filled Word document staring back at you.
"I can't take a break yet, I planned to finish this chapter by today." You looked back again, adjusting your glasses, a playfully stern look in your eyes. You raised your pointer finger, scrunched your brows. "I'm running on a strict schedule here. Don't you dare distract me."
Your eyes were back on your screen, and while Chan was busy laughing at your joke, he understood that it wasn't truly one — you were already back to writing on your paper, ignoring him entirely again. His palms still lay flat on your skin, warm against him, soft. He squeezed at your shoulders, massaged where you've held most tension; you moaned out again, quiet and shy, and stretched out your neck; yet your eyes were glued to your laptop.
Chan lowered his head to your level, planting one kiss to your temple; he ought to take different manners into account, if a simple massage didn't work it.
You hummed when another kiss met your skin, on the bit behind your ear, and another on your ear. You giggled then, when his breath fanned over your neck before a feather-light kiss met it right after, tickling in its' touch. You felt Chan's hands on your shoulders still, easing the knots in your muscles, succeeding in relaxing you with only a few simple touches.
"Babe...", you breathed out, lulling your head to your side, to allow the man more space on your neck. His mouth was making a slow journey further down your neck, kissing every inch before moving on.
"...what are you doing..."
Your voice breathless, and he hadn't even done much; though it didn't take much with him, ever. It needed a touch, a kiss, and he made you feel like never before. You both had never been this intimate before; and though you shied away from it out of pure reflex, your body ached for it, after all.
“Just helping you relax.”, Chan mumbled into your neck, tickling you, and you couldn’t help but giggle. The vibrations of it coursed his veins, and your vanilla scent body-wash intoxicated his senses. You were all around him, taking him hostage with your scent, with your touch, with the sounds of your laughter. His lips disconnected from your skin, and he looked up at you, waiting for you to rake your neck, to reciprocate his gaze. When you did, he planted a quick kiss to the mould between your neck and shoulder, and you blinked slowly, basked in the feeling of his lips on your body.
“Can I?”
His hands lowered themselves on your body, and you knew your boyfriend wasn’t asking to continue the kissing and nibbling on your neck – you knew he was asking for more. Your brows furrowed, in worried anticipation and nervous excitement; but you nodded. You couldn’t not, if the heat between your legs grew with every passing second, when Chan’s mouth, warm and wet and plush tickled so sweetly against your skin; you wondered how much better he could yet make you feel, if you only let him. If you only opened up to him entirely.
The man smiled into the crook of your neck, and gave you another kiss. Long, taking his time; and with one swift motion, he positioned himself between your legs. You have almost not noticed it happening, and were shy now that he kneeled before you, not levelled yet with your sex, but so much closer to it than ever before; it got you wetter, it got you giddy.
Chan saw the look on your face, your worrying eyes, your tense shoulders; he also saw how your thighs rubbed together subtly, how your chest flushed red, how your breath staggered. Cute. He sat up on his heels, almost meeting your eye. He granted you a soft smile, and you eased up to him.
“You just need to relax, I’ll take care of you… will you let me?”
His hands lay by the side of your thighs, his eyes kind, holding your gaze with a hope and excitement so pure you huffed out a breath of relief, and nodded at him. A quiet, soft “Yeah.” left your lips and you palmed his cheek, making Chan tend to your touch; feeling him against your skin eased your nervosity, reminded you of his devotion.
And he started kissing your body. Slow, unhurriedly; he was taking his time. He lifted your shirt a little, so his thumb grazed over the skin of your waist while his lips planted feather-light kisses against the mound of your chest. You hitched a breath; all senses were focused on him. You felt the heat of his body against your own, his callused fingers on your curves, dancing atop them and drawing mindless shapes, his lips sucking and painting your skin in colours of soft blues and reds.
He kissed your stomach. He lifted your tank top with a sheepish grin, waiting for your approval — when you gave it his lips were on you, wet kisses on hot skin. Your fingers tangled in his hair. Your core was burning, and it felt far too early to throw your head back in pleasure, to moan out his name; you knew it was, you knew Chan yet hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary; but you did, nonetheless, couldn’t hold back the small whine which left your throat in anticipation. You felt Chan smile at that against you; somehow that got you wetter.
His fingers hooked into the waistband of your shorts. He stayed there for a moment, looking up at you again; he waited for your permission after every inch he travelled on your body, and you gave it. Chan discarded your pants with a swift motion, along with your underwear. You had never sat this bare before him, never saw his eyes so very dark, his pupils so very dilated; his demeanour so very carnal.
And you were burning. Your core was, burning and wet, and you wondered if you dripped onto the chair you sat on. You watched Chan kiss your thighs, you watched him spread your legs, you watched him dive into you, only to further nibble on your inner plush — he was taking his time, but your patience was running out. You enjoyed the feeling of his wet mouth on your skin, on parts so sensitive you weren’t aware yourself; but you sex needed him, it needed his touch.
“Babe...” Your voice whiny, high-pitched; you blushed at it, hadn’t expected to be capable of such sounds. And that’s how Chan eyed you, too, from beneath; his eyes widened, his ears painted a red so bright it shone, and a soft groan vibrated against your body. Were you having the same effect on him than it was the other way around? You almost doubted it, until you caught glimpse of Chan’s erection when he leaned back a bit.
“What is it?”
His voice almost concerned, and you stuttered suddenly; how were you to ask what you wanted? Were you too desperate, begging for him when it was only the first time you’ve been so close to intimacy? You looked at him, eyes wanting, pleading, though you couldn’t find the words. His gaze softened, his hands against your thighs, too.
“You can tell me what you want, don’t be scared.”, he whispered, and something in your abdomen tingled. You grew wetter.
“I want more.”
A whisper, too, and shy, embarrassed, almost; though not for long. Because Chan mumbled a breathy “Fuck.”, and dove into you. His hands spread open your legs, finger digging into your flesh, and you felt his breath against your pussy, suddenly; so sudden you whimpered out quietly, and the sound turned into a loud moan when you felt his tongue on your slit.
It was heaven, it was far better than what you had expected. It was far better, even, than what your own fingers did on sleepless, tireless nights. The feeling of his wet tongue against your wetter cunt made you arch into him, and you couldn’t be shy about it, not anymore. Not when his hands gripped onto your body, snuck around your thighs and holding you in place, or simply closer, or for no reason altogether.
You felt his tongue against your clit, circling there experimentally, staying there when your head threw back and a groan so throaty left you he pulled you closer by your legs.
And he wasn’t quiet, either. Every of his sound, breathy and quiet sighs, low and deep groans vibrated against you, sounded against your core and resonated in your entire body. You vibrated with him, trembled, shook, ached for more. Your fingers in his hair, your palm against his scalp made you push him into you further; it was an instinct, carnal and unexpected, and you grew the very second after. When you felt his tongue against your clit, suddenly, when you felt a throaty chuckle against you; you backed away again, against the chair.
And his eyes spoke more than words. When you looked at him again, curious, when you watched him lap up your wetness with a thick tongue against your entrance and up to your clit, his eyes told you that it was okay. That your pleasure was, that your instincts were; that he would comply for whatever you wanted, whatever you wished for.
Yet you only watched him, because it was a sight you couldn’t possibly miss. His eyes glassy, his mouth wet, covered in your essence. You could smell yourself now, too, and your eyes dared to roll into the back of your head. It was everything, and too much; and you almost dreaded the feeling of tightness in the pit of your stomach. The first feelings of release, the tingling and turning and twisting somewhere between your stomach and your core. You dreaded it, because you wanted to feel Chan longer. You wanted to watch him further, circling the tip of his tongue against you, moaning when he lapped at the wetness by your entrance, when he played there, when he prodded his tongue slowly in, not enough for you to feel anything, yet you felt it all. You wanted to watch him further but your body started to tremble, and your face contorted; when Chan noticed your tense body, the way your hands searched for something to hold on he was quick to react, offering a hand, keeping his pace against your pussy. You were sweet, you were wet, and warm, and everything he didn’t dare imagine, and if he didn’t catch himself in time, he’d be a goner, would mar his pants in sticky cum.
You noticed the hand Chan offered you, and you looked at him before connecting your fingers. You looked shy, embarrassed. He thought you never looked more beautiful.
“Don’t be scared babe. Cum for me. Let go.”
Whispers against you, a voice so soft and breathy you barely heard it, so mumbled into you that you swallowed them whole; but you complied his command, his plead; and you came. Hard, and wet, and loud. You wondered how thick the walls in his dorm were, but only for a second before the thought dissipated again, before your orgasm took over your mind, your body, everything you were. Your thighs shook against him, and you felt his tongue against your puffy clit, so sensitive yet so yearning. Your fingers dug into his hand, and your hips grinded a bit against his face; you didn’t care about it now, and Chan smiled softly into you, though you didn’t feel it.
“That’s it, good girl.”
Only a mumble too, and you would have almost missed his words against the high ringing in your ears; yet when you registered them, when you chewed and swallowed them your head lulled back into your neck, and you whined out his name in crystallized pleasure, raw and real. A pleasure so grand, so caring you’d forgotten about your paper, forgotten about your homework; a pleasure and closeness so great you fell asleep in Chan’s arms that night, content, chest heaving in exhaustion for yet a long time, and a warm, pleasant wetness between your legs.
@es-kay-zee @jeyelleohe @angelwonie @yvniek4ng @ppiri-bahng @bintificreads @svintsandghosts @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry @minniesvenus @junebug032 @noellllslut @wolfennracha @unexceptional-h @like-a-diamondinthesky @katsukis1wife @binniesbang @astraystayyh
#bang chan smut#stray kids smut#skz smut#bang chan x reader#bang chan imagines#skz imagines#skz x reader#stray kids imagines#stray kids x reader#chan smut#chan x reader#chan imagines
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THIN LINE - M.S. 𓍯𓂃
·˚ ༘ disclaimer: This is a SERIES, so you'll eventually find more parts on my profile. I'm pretty much excited for this, since I've never done anything like this before. Special thanks to @luverboychris & @evieolo that gave me a hand. Kisses, mwah !!!
·˚ ༘ pairing: Matt Sturniolo x fem!reader
·˚ ༘ summary: Ever since Matthew started an unfounded rumor about you, a strong hostility has existed between you both. However, due to attending the same college, classes, meetings, and parties, it's impossible to avoid him. Over time, tension sparks a shift in dynamics, leading to unexpected revelations and surprisingly, hate is the only thing drawing you both closer.
·˚ ༘ warnings: MDNI, 18+ content, bully!matt, playboy!matt, toxicity, jealousy, cursing, angst, bulling, crying, mention of sex.
01. Unified Divergence ᥫ᭡ .ᐟ
˗ˏˋ "you again?" ´ˎ˗
The day started differently, not like any other. You sighed are you were getting mentally prepared for another week of college classes that seemed to stretch into eternity. Time was against you this morning, with your 8 a.m. chemistry class looming and it already being 7:46 a.m. Oversleeping had left you scrambling, trying to catch up with your morning routine. Brushing your teeth, combing your hair, picking out an outfit, and squeezing in a quick breakfast all had to be accomplished in a short time.
You darted into the bathroom, spurting toothpaste directly onto your tongue.
Swiftly, you spread it over your teeth and scrubbed diligently with your toothbrush. The ringtone of your phone interrupted the silence, your eyes rolling in mild annoyance. You left the bathroom to get your phone, recognizing the caller ID as your best friend, Lorelai. She was your best friend despite a year difference, that caused you. Accepting the Facetime call, you were instantly greeted by her smiling face, which despite the pressing time and your tardiness, brought a smile to your face.
"Where’d you end up?” Lorelai asked, her voice somewhat obscured by the murmur of background noise.
“I’m- I kinda slept in,” you confessed, a sheepish grin spreading across your face. You had been up until this morning, attempting to finish your chemistry project, at the same time spending time to study for your physics test. “I was up until 5 a.m. trying to complete that infuriating chemistry project. But, guess what? Didn’t quite cut it.”
As you spoke, you continued getting ready, setting your toothbrush on your nightstand and propping your phone up on your bed.
“I would help if I could,” Lorelai offered, her voice accompanied by a louder voice in the background pleading, “Come on, just let me see her!”
Your brows furrowed in confusion, wondering who was so eager to talk to you. Lorelai adjusted her phone to reveal Kingston, your other best friend. His expression was a mix of frustration and concern.
“Why won’t you let me help, y/n? You know I’m a whiz at chemistry!” He gestured towards himself for emphasis.
With an air of reassurance, you responded, “You know it’s fine, King-. You've already got a lab partner and Sophia’s way better at chemistry than I am. I just need to find a partner of my own.” You then picked up the phone again to better frame yourself in the camera. Kingston responded with a comforting smile, and in spite of everything, you mirrored his expression.
“How about we just do the project at my dorm?” he suggested, a playful smirk on his lips. “It’s not like anyone’s gonna find out. A slight bending of the rules could be fun.” You shook your head at his suggestion and reached for your chemistry textbook.
“I need to head out now, Kingston. Also, prepare for a smack on your cheek, you sex addict.” You laughed, ending the call and thrusting your phone into your pocket. You exited your dorm room, pulling the door closed softly behind you, and sprinted towards your chemistry class.
Upon arriving, you were panting heavily and found the hallway outside the classroom to be deserted. The realization hit you - class had already started. Your hand hovered over the doorknob, every ounce of courage you had was required to turn the handle and face the consequences, knowing you were about to get yelled at.
“You gonna keep staring at that for a bit longer, pal?” The familiar voice behind you belonged to Matt, his arms folded over his chest and a serious expression on his face.
Your relationship with Matt had always been a complex one. He basically was the college heartthrob, while you were just an ordinary college student. However, things had taken a bitter turn when he spread a rumour about you, stating you were a lesbian simply because you were a virgin. That was the reason that ignited the animosity between you.
“Fantastic,” you sighed, already dreading the confrontation with Matt.
“Never knew you were a vocal sigher,” Matt quipped, looking at you with an amused expression. You avoided his gaze, not wanting to escalate your growing anxiety.
“You need something, Matthew?” You asked, your tone laced with clear annoyance. On hearing this, Matt chuckled and rubbed his forehead.
“Actually, yes, I do. We're both late to the same class, right? I really need you to open that door for me, ‘cause we’re both already late. You gonna make it, hm?” His nonchalant words and his hum sent a chill down your spine, causing you to involuntarily bite your lower lip.
Not wishing to further engage with him, you stepped back and gestured towards the door handle. Matt raised an eyebrow, chuckled, and shook his head before pushing the door open just slightly. “That wasn’t so difficult, was it, dude?” He teased, using a nickname that made your skin crawl.
Matt stepped into the classroom first, and you followed suit. A wave of embarrassment washed over you as you felt the stern gaze of your professor.
“Well, isn't this a sight?” He remarked sarcastically. “A boy and a girl walking in late to class together. I expected as much from Mr. Sturniolo, but you, Miss y/l/n? That's a disappointment indeed.”
Your professor’s insinuations left you taken aback, but before you could offer any explanation, Matthew intervened.
“We didn’t do anything, sir. The only possible way I could be seen with her outside of class would be for a dare or down a payment.” Matthew’s words made you want to scream, but you bit back your anger and remained silent.
“Mr. Sturniolo, you must love getting into trouble, don't you?” The professor retorted, causing Matthew to groan beside you. A sense of satisfaction tingled in you at his discomfort.
“I assume neither of you managed to finish your assignment.” The professor's stern words were like a blow to the gut. You lowered your head, guilt washing over you. You’d spent the entire weekend engrossed in studying for an upcoming physics test, leaving no time to complete the assignment.
“Did either of you even start it?” He asked again, and his question was met with an uncomfortable silence. He sighed deeply, a look of disappointment crossing his face.
“Alright then. I'm left with no other choice. Sturniolo, you're paired with y/l/n. Don’t bother objecting; my decision is final. The rest of the class has already submitted their projects. If I don’t see your simple wind turbine project on my desk by tomorrow, you both can expect a big, red F.”
With that, he dismissed you. As you turned to leave, you heard Matt grumble under his breath and head towards the back of the class where his friends were seated. They chuckled at him, clearly finding amusement in his predicament.
You took your usual seat next to Kingston, who was unusually silent. He kept stealing glances at you, causing your frustration to grow.
Eventually, you sighed loudly and turned to face him. “What?” You asked, irritation seeping into your tone. He quickly snapped out of his thoughts and looked at you, his expression unreadable.
“Nothing,” he replied nonchalantly, resting his chin on his hand. You sighed audibly in frustration and slapped his hand away, causing his chin to drop slightly.
“Seriously, what’s wrong?” You insisted, growing weary of his silence. He rolled his eyes and finally responded.
“You fucking Sturniolo?” He asked bluntly. The question caught you off-guard and you immediately recoiled, taken aback by it.
“What? No!” You hissed, lowering your voice when you noticed the professor glancing in your direction. You quickly turned your attention back to your textbook, pretending to be engrossed in the lesson.
Once you were sure his attention was elsewhere, you turned back to Kingston. “Well, both of you were late and together. It doesn’t seem like a coincidence. You think I'm dumb or something?” He questioned, causing your frustration to boil over.
“Listen, Kingston. I don’t know why you’re acting this way, but you’re crossing a line. I told you, there is absolutely nothing going on between Matthew and me. The only feeling we have for each other is mutual hate. Understood?” You said, growing weary of his baseless accusations. He seemed to finally grasp the reality and nodded, picking up his pen.
“But what about the project? Whose dorm will you be working on it in?” He asked, chewing on his pen. You shook your head, not wanting to think about it.
“Definitely not his,” you replied, focusing your attention back on the lesson.
After three gruelling hours of chemistry, you gathered your books and readied yourself for your next class. You picked up your physics textbook and planned to use your break to review the material while enjoying your sandwich.
As you made your way out of the class, you exchanged a few words with Kingston and spotted Matt heading towards the cafeteria. “Matthew!” You called out, standing on your tiptoes and waving your hand. He turned around, clenched his jaw, and rolled his eyes. His friends laughed at his reaction, whispering words you couldn’t quite make out.
He made his way to you through the crowd towards you as Kingston stepped away, giving you both space. “You again?” Matt asked, his tone brimming with annoyance. You lowered your gaze to your textbook, scanning the words of it as you spoke.
“I was thinking we could do the project at my dorm,” you suggested, looking up to assess his reaction. Matt looked around, sighed, and finally replied, “I thought you didn’t want anything that has to do with me, so it’s better off if you do it yourself, yeah?” He turned to leave, but you quickly caught his attention with your next words.
“You do realize that if you don’t help, I’ll tell the professor that I did the project all by myself, right?” Matt turned back around to face you, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips. His gaze locked onto yours, making you slightly uncomfortable.
“You’re just adorable when you’re threatening me, aren’t you?” He replied, his hand rummaging through his pockets.
"Look, I'm not giving you my phone number, don't even dream of that. My dorm, at 5 p.m. And that's it," he says in a curt tone. Without giving you the slightest chance to interject, he turns on his heel and leaves, dashing towards his group of friends. He shoots you one last look, a smirk spreading across his face as he joins his friends, laughing at you as well, leaving you alone with your frustration. Great, his dorm.
After what feels like an eternity, your best friend, Lorelai, finally makes her way over to you.
"Hey, how you doin’?” she asks, her eyes darting around the busy hallway, searching for her friend. "Where on earth is Kingston?" she asks, a hint of annoyance creeping into her voice. Unable to provide a satisfying answer, you decide to make your way to the cafeteria with her, hoping that Kingston would eventually show up.
"He just sort of... left. But don't worry, I'm sure he'll be back soon. By the way, how was literature class?" you ask, trying to change the subject. Lorelai nods, her attention fixated on the avocado she's peeling with her teeth.
"Really, Lorelai?" you tease, unable to hide your amusement. "You couldn't just cut it up and put it in a box before class starts, could you?" She simply shakes her head, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she pulls out a spoon from her backpack's front pocket.
"Wow, you've got the whole set there," you say, your laughter echoing around the cafeteria. Unfazed, she scoops a spoonful of avocado, not even bothering to wait for you to sit down.
Finally finding a spot, you sit on the bench, your eyes scanning the cafeteria. That's when you spot Kingston, making his way towards you and Lorelai. A smile spreads across your face as you see him, a smile he returns with equal warmth. He takes a seat next to you, and with that, the three of you get lost in a conversation, the noise of your words mixed with your laughters cafeteria fading into the background.
4.43 p.m. •°. *࿐
You find yourself in the deserted hallway as you slowly make your way to Matthew's dorm room. A knot of anxiety forms in your chest, growing tighter with each step. You're aware that you're about to spend the next three and a half hours with the person you detest the most in the world, and to make matters worse, it will be in his dorm, his room.
You trudge down the quiet hallway, as you come to a halt in front of Matthew's dorm door. You take a deep breath, and decide to knock three times, each knock loud and clear. From behind the door, you hear a loud sigh, and suddenly the door swings open, revealing Matthew's figure looming in the doorway.
You stand there, frozen for a moment, as he scans what you’re holding in your hands, your shopping bag that contains the materials for your project.
Without a word, he takes it from your grasp and he turns and places it on his desk, his back towards you as you hesitantly step into his dorm.
You cast a quick glance around the room, noticing how the rest of the dorm is a chaotic mess. But his area is a definitely different, surprisingly neat and organized. His bed is immaculately made, a bottle of cologne and a can of deodorant are neatly aligned on his nightstand, and his desk is spotless. There's not a single shirt out of place, as you can see the rest of the boys’ shirts on every piece of forniture, even on the floor.
"Why is nobody here?" You curiously ask, the question slipping out before you can stop it. You can't help but feel guilty for saying something first.
"I asked the others to leave," he responds, in an annoyed tone. "We wouldn't be able to concentrate with them around. They're too loud.” With that, he pulls up a chair and sits down, his attention now on the contents of the shopping bag.
He sifts through the various objects, each one carefully examined. As he does so, you silently take a seat on the chair, watching him.
"What's this stuff?" He finally breaks the silence, holding out a roll of tape.
"It's everything we need to build a wind turbine. Bottle, scissors, marbles, ruler. All that kind of stuff," you explain, trying to suppress the tension knotting in your stomach.
"I don't know how this works," he admits, shaking his head and withdrawing his hands from the bag.
"It's alright. We'll figure it out together," you say, trying to offer reassurance. A heavy silence fills the room. Maybe you shouldn't have said that.
"Okay. Just tell me what to do, I'll help you out," he says, almost surprising you. His willingness to help is music to your ears.
"Let's go through the bag and talk about what each item is for," you suggest. He nods in agreement, flipping the bag over and scattering its contents across the desk. You both delve into a detailed discussion about each item, its purpose, and its role in the project.
As the minutes tick by, he sits there, listening attentively. He doesn't interrupt or make any comments, just quietly absorbs what you're saying. He seems genuinely interested in the task at hand.
"Sorry, Matt--" You try to interject after about 30 minutes of explaining, feeling your throat sore, but he quickly cuts you off.
"It's Matthew for you," he corrects you, his gaze briefly meeting yours before returning to the marbles he has in his hands.
"Sorry. Could I get some water, please?" you ask, your throat dry from all the talking. He nods in response, carefully placing the marbles down, getting up from his chair. He strides towards the mini fridge, but as he reaches for the handle, his phone rings. He swiftly turns around, heading back towards his desk.
"I gotta pick this up. You get the water, it's in the fridge," he instructs before picking up his phone and moving away. You hear him mutter a few words, but they're too faint to make out.
With a sigh, you get up from your chair and head towards the fridge. As you open it, you're met with cans of beer, soda, bottles of water, and wine. You pick up a bottle of water but notice there aren't any glasses around. You decide to close the fridge and wait for Matthew's call to end, so you can ask him about it. Leaning against the fridge, you start to tap your foot in rhythm with your thoughts, the water bottle held tightly in your grasp.
a/n: my tags are working mad weird, idk why i gotta tag people like this lol. also i am/have never been into college. i don't know how lots of stuff works, so i did my best. i love writing, but also please feel free to correct me if some things are not right ! <3
taglist 🏷 : @inkyray @hysteria-things @spaznongirl @worldlxvlys @nickgetsmewetter
@patscorner @deftonesmatt @riasturns @vanteguccir @sturniololoverssblog
@luverboychris @imwetforyourmom @bambi-slxt @cindylcuwho @freshloveforthefit
@sturnioz-replies @mattscoquette @evieolo @cartierhalo @sturnthepot
#matt sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#matt sturniolo x reader#matt x reader#fanfic#matt sturniolo imagine#matt sturniolo fic#chris sturniolo#matt x yn#matt sturniolo fanfic#matthew sturniolo#matt sturniolo smut#matthew sturniolo x fem reader#matthew sturniolo smut#the sturniolo triplets#christopher sturniolo#sturniolo#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo smut#sturniolo imagine
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𝐔𝐆𝐇 — 𝐋.𝐖
## reader x leah williamson !! enemies to lovers
hiiiiiii pookies! hope you enjoy this little angsty smutty fic! hopefully ill have some more bits out for you guys over the next few weeks - life is just crazing atm and i spend 99% of my time at work :( anywayyyys - i hope you enjoy this! its a long one - love always - RG x
masterlist here
contains : NOT PROOF READ BC I CBA!!!! angst, enemies to lovers, arrogant!leah, top!leah, oral r receiving, fingering r receiving, caught red handed, foul language.
3.5k words
it's a hot may monday in london - the type of hot that sits at the back of your throat and grabs at your skin harshly. today, you wake up to the day’s first rays of sun peaking through the blinds, a stark contrast to the usual grey, early morning skies. you sigh into the space around you, already feeling sticky and uncomfortable as you roll over, your hand brushing against the empty space in your bed and reaching for your phone to silence your alarm.
you get up - against your will, and begin to get ready for your day. shuffling about your flat, nerves brewing in the pit of your stomach at the mere thought of having to walk into work today, you try to distract your mind. taking your time for your usual routine - overly aware that you have given yourself more time than needed.
it’s your first day back to work. your first full and proper day back in london, and you already find yourself wishing it was the last. you loved your job - loved the people you had met; the people who had become some of your closest friends in the entire world. you worked hard, got your degree and that led you here.
well, truth be told you like most of the people you've met.
leah williamson, however, did not fit into that category. she was arrogant, dismissive. the type of woman that always seemed to be looking down her nose at you - like she was better than you. you tried your hardest to like her; to look past her abrupt and oftentimes rude exterior and personality but you just couldn't.
the way she spoke to you, how she held herself whilst she walked around the grounds - god it had you riled up. nerves raging at the mere thought of being in the same room as her for a prolonged period of time. but alas, you had to remain professional.
you couldn't jeopardise your job, your income - to spite a woman who somehow seems to make it her life mission to aggravate and annoy you. so, instead, you smiled sweetly. spoke extra calmly, all in attempted to be the bigger person.
she didn't make it easy for you with her tanned skin and deep blue eyes - the accent which rolled off her lips gracefully and caused a smile to threaten at your lips every time she spoke.
you weren't the best at staying focused, clearly. finding yourself staring absentmindedly into the bathroom mirror, toothbrush still between your lips whilst the thought of her trickled through the depths of your mind. disgust and attraction tangoed in your stomach; rattling around your organs until you finally ripped your eyes away and continued to get ready.
an hour later you were in the carpark, head leant against the headrest and hands still fixed at the 10 and 2 positions. you spent the next few minutes preparing yourself - taking deep breaths and assuring yourself you would be calm and collected from the minute you walked in.
so you were, armed with your bag slung over your shoulder and a ring-binder tucked beneath your arm you entered - smiling at the few familiar faces around you; all kitted out in their newest and finest training kits. they were earlier than usual, some of them having arrived last night and a couple this morning.
in an ideal world, you would've had time to settle into your day before she arrived. but this is clearly not an ideal world. after exchanging pleasantries with the girls loitering in the foyer, you said a brief and collective goodbye and headed towards your office.
through the double doors, round to the right and through the hallway. it wasn't far, but by the time you had rounded the corner your shoulder had began to ache from your bag and the folder had started to jab into your side. you knew the route like th eback of your hand, having wandered through these halls on numerous occasions after the last few years.
so, your head stayed tucked into your phone. too focused on the screen below you to notice the body slumped against the wall beside your office door, or the way it shifted to face you as you neared.
"you're late." you knew who it was before your eyes even lifted to meet theirs.
"williamson, to what do i owe this pleasure?" you exhaled, rolling your eyes out of view when you turned to unlock your door.
"you're late."
"your watch is fast."
this was usually how your interactions went, you tried to keep them to a minimum - but when you did talk, this was pretty much the usual.
"have you had a chance to look over the new schedules yet? i've had them emailed to you." she continued, paying to mind or attention to anything previously spoken.
"oh yes, please come in." you sneered as she followed into the room behind. you flicked on the lights and put your folder down on the desk, along with your bag. they hit the wood with a thud and you turned around to face her as she continued speaking.
"well, did you?"
"considering you just watched me walk in, what do you think?" you threw back with a raised eyebrow and a wide expression.
"arsehole." she muttered as she left, turning away from you like a toddler and almost swinging the door off of its hinges on her way out.
"oh captain williamson how you have hurt me. prick." you whispered below your breath sarcastically, face screwed up in a childish manner as you slumped into your seat with a grumble.
it wasn't always like this, bitter and short. there was a time when you and leah actually managaed to tolerate eachother, you were almost friends. then, when leah suffered her ACL injury - the dynamic did a full flip. she was knocked by the full force of her harsh, new reality. she was angry at the world, angry that the one thing she loved most was ripped from beneath her feet in a matter of seconds.
you, in charge of her recovery, were the closest and clearly most obvious thing to blame - so she did. every set back, every minor issue - was thrown onto you and your apparant incompetance to care for your players, your team. you paid it no mind, plagued with sympathy for her.
you had assumed once she recovered and her time spent rebuilding her strength was completed, that maybe she was ease up. that she would stop the snide comments or glaring stares across the room. you assumed wrong. instead she insisted on acting like a child, everyday. at first you tried to rise above, not letting her have an affect on you but everytime she spoke you felt your stomach physiclaly recoiling; twisting with anger. so eventually, you came to terms with it and you stopped taking it.
——————
the day drags on, your various appointments come and go and you can finally feel the end of the day nearing. people had started popping their heads in to say goodbye's and exchange see you tomorrow's and now it was just you and a few others who remained in the building. today had dragged and the thought of your bed was the only thing keeping you going. it was nearly 6pm when you had finally finished the reports and notes you needed to complete and just as you start to gather up your things the door ahead of you flies open.
“are you taking the piss?” leah. you inhale deeply at the sound of her voice bellowing through the room - careful to remind yourself of where you are.
“hm?” you dont even look up, seemingly unbothered by her presence and still flicking through the documents and papers littered across your desk. you can feel her fume from across the space, the humorous thought of her literally bursting into flames threatens a pinched smile to tug at your lips.
“i’ve been ringing you since lunch!”
“oh, i haven’t noticed.”
“why do you have to make it your daily goal to fuck me off, y/n!” she pauses and a weighted silence brews between you. “funnily enough it’s actually your job to pick up your phone!” she continues, hands waving about beside her. “especially when it’s me calling you! don’t you think that when you see my name flash up, that maybe you should fucking answer. your. pho-”
“no, leah!” your hands hit the desk palm flat with a smack, the fire behind your eyes fuelled by the sting across the skin. she’s loud, but you can be louder. “i dont, because funnily enough, i don’t answer to you!”
after starting you couldn’t stop, eight months of tongue biting and insult swallowing has come back to bite you in the back side - and now, the words came vomiting out with no sight of when they will stop.
“you don’t pay my wages!” you hold one finger up, pointing at her viciously. “you don’t get to come in here and bark orders at me!” quick breath. “you may be ‘captain williamson’ out there, on that pitch.” your finger moves to point out the window at the grassy area beyond the building. “but in here, through that door-” it moves to punctuate your sentence. “you are just leah! and i don’t know what gives you the right to come in here, day in day out and berate me!”
"you know thats-"
"all i do is listen to you speak, and comment and now fucking shout at me! in my office! and i am sick. sick! of hearing your voice ringing in my ears because you think you are better than everyone else! well earth to leah - the sun doesn't shine out of your fucking arse!"
too consumed by the anger radiating between you and the words flying off your tongue, you hadn't noticed how you had now moved from the safety of your desk. instead, you stood no more than a metre before her. skin on fire as you stared into her eyes and let all of the compressed anger bubble to the surface.
you both shared a moment of hefty quiet, chests heaving in sync as you collected your thoughts and your mouth opened again.
"you are rude." a step closer. "you are arrogant." another. "you are nasty." one more. "and you are truly, utterly and entirely a giant pain in my arse." you had travelled closer than intended during your rant, and now you stood inches from her. jaw clenched and breath shuddering when your eyes levelled once more.
the rage you felt overpowered every ounce of logic left in your brain, and you felt a wave of disgust crash over you when you found yourself softening at the smell of her sweet, vanilla perfume.
you were adamant this time, this was the last time she spoke to you like that. of the last time she spoke to you at all, you didn't really care.
"you're a bitch." she spat back into the small and enclosed space between you. you felt your breath catch in your throat as you realise that there may well be a possibility she's right.
maybe its the adrenaline pumping through your veins and intoxicating your bloodstream, or maybe its the way her hair has started to fall in front of her eyes as she heaves for breath in front of you, but t he air feels electric, and you sense the same awareness in her.
without a word exchanged, she steps forward and reaches for you. you don't know what you expected - but instead of pushing you away she pulls you towards her. you stumble slightly, unable to shake off her grip and leaning into her fingertips unintentionally.
there's a pause, a shift.
the air surrounding you suddenly too thick to inhale, grazing the back of your throat as your lungs are deprived of their need for oxygen. her eyes bore into your own, and you're sure, just for a split second - a wicked smirk pulls her lips into a lopsided and overly cocky line.
then she's on you, her lips against yours - fierce, unforgiving. you move with no real method, lips fighting against each other and teeth clashing. her teeth pull against your bottom lip roughly and you hiss, stomach contorting at the feel of her smile against the now sensitive skin of your lips.
you shouldn't want this, this shouldn't be happening. the little voice inside your head, the voice of reason is silenced when her hands move to your waist - gripping at the fabric of your top and leading you backwards towards your desk. your lips don't leave hers, worried if you come up for air you'll miss even a moment of this.
the edge of your desk hits the back of your thighs, and shes quick to hoist you up to perch on the surface. your legs spread and her frame holding ground between your thighs, your hands grabbing at whatever skin they could find as she kissed you feverishly.
her hands roam under your shirt and caress the skin of your back roughly - her soft skin juxtaposed with the way the pads of her fingertips graze across the small area. you busy your hands by sliding up the back of her thighs, feeling the skin uncovered by the shirts she adorns. you drag your nails against her urgently, encouraged by the way she moans into your mouth, her hands gripping your back and pulling your front against her.
begrudgingly breaking the kiss, she trails kisses along your jaw, nipping at your ear roughly with a grunt, and then down your neck. she can taste the salty sweetness of the skin, her own stomach flipping when you arch your neck to give her better access. your hands now wrapped around the back of her neck and twisting into the short hairs that reside there. your breath comes in short bursts as she continues the attack on your skin, hitching when you feel her teeth graze along the skin of your throat and her tongue following in their path to soothe the area.
she pauses as you gasp, her fingertips finding the hem of your top and toying with it before she lifts it up and over your head. you hear a grumble rise from the depths of her throat at the sight of you tucked into a pale lace bra, her hands quick to tug the fabric down and expose your breasts - the wave of air causing your nipples to harden.
you pull her down towards you, encouraging her mouth as she took one in. swirling her tongue around it and sucking gently. your chest rose into her, begging her for more when she bit down softly - a jagged cry slipping past your lips. she continued like this for a few more minutes, working you up with her tongue and fingers as she flicked and alternated between your nipples.
your bliss was interrupted by her hand flat against your collarbones, pushing you down until your back laid flat against your desk - not caring for the way the sheets crumpled beneath the weight of you.
she didn't give you time to catch your breath, instead she continued her path of kisses and sloppy tongue movements down the length of your body until she knelt on the carpet below you. her thumbs dipped into the waist of your trousers and underwear and began to tug them down your legs, her mouth attached to every part of the skin she revealed until she had them pulled down and pooling around your ankles.
she takes the moment to admire you from this angle, the way your skin creases and your chest rises and falls. your hair littering the space on the desk around you and hands firmly clenched beside your frame.
you're too concerned with studying the ceiling above you to catch the smirk settling across her lips again when she notices how you glisten in the light - her face level with your very evident desperation.
the fingers gripping your thighs were warm and strong as if she was trying to permanently transfer her fingertips onto your skin. her hot breath made your skin tingle and your core ache, you lifted your hips up towards her, pussy clenched tightly around the nothingness as your mind filled with vulgar images of her lips wrapped around you, her tongue on you.
as if she could read your mind, her tongue darted out to lick you lightly - her arousal clouding her mind when you moaned, pressing your hips forward into the source of the friction, begging her for more.
"fuck," she practically purred, her voice low and sultry.
she gave in again for just a second, allowing her tongue to lay flat against your clit - savouring the way she felt your clit pulse and throb against her tongue before pulling away and swallowing you entirely.
you don't have time to complain before she's on you again, her tongue teasing your sensitive clit. circling the nerves gently before pulling away with a little suck and then diving back in to repeat the process again. you try to stay quiet, hand laid against your mouth in an attempt to muffle the noises that you couldn't fight away. the odd moan or whimper tumbling from your lips cautiously.
completely consumed by the way her tongue flicked across your bundle of nerves, you hadn't noticed when she removed one of her hands from your thigh. you did notice, however, when you felt her push a single finger into you - her pussy clenching around her digit and a guttural moan slipping past the skin of your hand.
your body felt as if it had been set ablaze, every nerve ending on fire, every muscle taut and aching for release. when she feels your relax around her, she begins to move her finger in and out of you, slowly at first, then with increasing speed and urgency. her tongue continues its relentless assault on your clit, circling and teasing until you're sure you'll go insane from the need. your hips arch off the bed and your hand grips the edge of the desk beside you, as you meet her thrusts with your own rhythm, breath coming in ragged gasps.
you reach down, gripping her hair tightly, urging her to go deeper, faster. you feel her moan against your skin, her breath hot as it fans across the exposed skin of your pussy. you feel her finger curl, hitting that spot deep inside you that sends shudders of pleasure through your entire body. you're so close, so impossibly close, but you need more. you need her.
you arch your back, lifting your hips closer to her touch as you beg, "harder, please." the words are barely out of your mouth when you feel her press a second finger inside you, stretching you, filling you in a way that feels both foreign and achingly familiar.
her fingers move in tandem with her tongue, curling and thrusting in a perfect rhythm with the hand between your legs. you're lost in the sensation, your mind a haze of pleasure and need. too lost to remember where you are as the coil in your stomach tightens and twists at the pressure of her fingers inside you.
as if sensing your rapidly approaching release, she leans back, her breath hot against your leg. chin glistening with your arousal. "that's it, love. let go."
her fingers move faster when she feels your legs start to shake beside her head as you feel yourself begin to unravel, the tension coiling in your belly finally giving way to a powerful orgasm that sweeps through you in waves. your body convulses, your muscles tensing and releasing as pleasure ripples through you.
you cry out her name, your voice raw and desperate, as you arch your back and come apart in her hands. she murmurs words of encouragement, her breath warm against your skin, her fingers relentless in their pace. and then, finally, she slows, withdrawing her fingers from you, allowing you to catch your breath.
you both sit in an oddly comfortable silence together, inhales mirrored between you both whilst you try and navigate what just happened.
before either of you can speak, or even figure out what to say - the silence is interrupted by a knock against the door beyond you both. you raise up into a sitting position almost quicker than the speed of sound, leah lifting into a standing position between your still-spread legs with a finger pressed against her lips to silence you and wide eyes.
neither of you speaks, trying to breathe silently at the revelation of a body on the other side of the door.
"by the way, this office is not soundproof.." the voice speaks out through the door, their words barely coherent through their laughs. the pair of you now embarrassed and wanting the earth to open and swallow you whole at the presence of your friends outside the room.
"shit.."
"shit.."
#leah williamson#awfc#beth mead#alessia russo#england#fanfition#arsenal wfc#woso fanfic#wlw#leah williamson x you#leah williamson smut#leah williamson x reader#enemies to lovers#england wnt#arsenal x reader#arsenal women#awfc x you#awfc x reader#awfc smut#awfc imagine#lw6#lucy bronze x leah williamson#lucy bronze smut#williamson#katie mccabe#victoria pelova#woso smut#woso#women’s football#woso x reader
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