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sc0tters · 7 months

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Faking It | Jack Hughes

summary: when Jack learns that his girlfriend faked her response in bed the previous night, it can only ever land up with them back in bed as he gives her a time she couldn’t possibly fake.

request: yes/no

warnings: sexual themes, p in v (unprotected), oral (fem receiving), use of vibrator, bondage, ice play, swearing.

word count: 2.49k

authors note: surprised I got this one out today if I’m being honest. @hischierhaze said I can blame her for my lack of a filter for this and @sweetestdesire just told me to tag her. This is what happens when I am left unattended to do things… with that being said I hope you enjoy what came from this prompt!

The sound of your headboard hitting the wall rang through your ears.

Jack held your legs around his waist “right there baby.” Jack grunted dropping his head so that his lips could kiss at your collar bone.

Even with his lips sucking at the sweet spot of your skin you couldn’t seem to get his cock to hit the spot that you needed him in “fuck Jack.” Your cry was more so out of discomfort as a cramp formed in your thigh officially meaning that you had lost any chance of having a good night with your boyfriend.

The hockey player had come home after a long road trip and he wanted nothing more than you and your bed. But all you wanted to do was sleep after a long day at work “you want to be a good girl and come for me?” Jack asked as you clenched your pussy around his cock.

You knew that he was close by how his cock throbbed from inside of you and you knew that he wouldn’t be able to handle it if you didn’t come tonight “shit yeah.” You forced your breath to go airy as your hands reached up to tease your nipples in the hopes that it would help build some pressure in your stomach.

As Jacks grunts began to grow stuttered you decided that then was your chance to act like you came “oh my god Jack,” you huffed your chest making it sound like you had just ran a marathon.

Jack rode out his orgasm before he flopped onto the bed next to you “you were so good baby.” You couldn’t even remain upset for long as the hockey player hooked his fingers under your jaw so he could pull you into a kiss.

After last nights disappointments you invited some friends over to full up your time before Jack was meant to come up from practice “you okay girl?” Mia asked as she sat next to you sensing your silence “can I tell you girls something?” You sighed watching them all nod.

Jack walked back into the apartment deciding that he wanted to be quiet so that he could hear whatever gossip it was that you were talking about “we had sex last night.” Your voice made him stop dead in your tracks “and he thinks I came but I didn’t.” That confession made his eyes go wide.

It wasn’t that he was sad you told your friends, he was sad that you felt the need to fake it and not address it. Because if Jack knew that you had done that you wouldn’t be sat there today “hey baby!” Jack pretended to shut the door once more again but louder this time before he made his way into the living room.

Your eyes were wide as you looked at your boyfriend “how was practice?” You asked trying to ignore the embarrass looks your friends were sending the Hughes boy “it was good, gonna go have a shower now.” He smiled pressing a kiss on your forehead.

Instead Jack actually walked into your bedroom and began deciding his plot of how to make you pay for faking your orgasm whilst he also tried to give you a night of pleasure to make up for what you missed.

Jack was given plenty of time as you ended up back in your room 90 minutes later once your friends had left “how are they all?” Jack asked sending you a smile as you crawled into his lap “don’t care about them right now.” You mumbled running your fingers along his jaw.

The hockey player smirked “want to be a good girl for me?” He cocked his head pecking your lips.

You nodded “always,” and just like that you had fallen into his plan.

Before you knew it your clothes were all off as you were laying on your bed fully naked whilst Jack was only in some sweatpants “you trust me?” The hockey player grabbed his belt as he held your hands together before he tied them to the headboard making sure that the belt was done tight enough you looked at him with a smile.

That wasn’t going to work for him causing the boy to grab his tie “relax baby,” he encouraged you as Jack held it up to your eyes “I’ll be back in a sec,” was the last thing he said after tying it behind your head.

It all felt foreign to you as Jacks tie blocked out the light from your eyes leaving you in darkness “J-jack?” You called out hearing his footsteps retreat “I’m here baby don’t worry.” He cooed coming back to your bed letting the mattress dip as his knees pressed into it.

You grew wet with anticipation as you waited for him to touch you “remember the safe word is red.” Jack mumbled pressing a kiss to your lips before a buzzing noise between your thighs pulled your attention away from his lips.

That feeling was familiar from anywhere, the vibrating was shared between your clit and your pussy making you realise that it was your red rabbit vibrator. It was a purchase you got when Jack was on a roadtrip and when he came home he caught you laying on your bed in some pretty robe for him but when you got impatient you leaned on your new friend to help you out. Rather than get upset Jack spent that evening learning how to further improve your experience in bed with the help of the red device “shit Jack!” You gasped realising that your boyfriend had gone for the highest speed setting straight off the bat.

Your hips jerked against the device as you felt your high quickly approaching “don’t stop,” you begged desperately tugging at the belt that had your hands up by your headboard “not yet baby.” Jack clicked his tongue turning the speed of the vibrator all the way down to its lowest setting.

It caused you to whimper “don’t be a brat about it.” He warned using his free hand to softly hit your clit “you want to embarrass me like that in front of all your friends?” Jack’s harsh words made your jaw go slack “and think that you won’t get punished for it?” He let out a laugh as he shook his head.

Jack let the speed slowly increase again as it looked like you had fallen enough away from your high “let’s see if you take this one like a good girl this time?” The hockey player increased the speed up one button more as he grabbed an ice cube from the cup next to him.

Your body ached as your toes curled “y-you know?” Your voice trembled, quickly you felt bad at the thought out your boyfriend knowing what you had done “had to hear you telling all of those fucking friends of yours too.” You didn’t have time to think about how his voice sounded mumbled as the boys lips dropped down to your breast “shit!” You groaned almost jumping out of this constraints you jumped so hard.

The cold ice cube served as the perfect contrast to your hot skin “fuck Jackie!” You cried at the sensory overload that you were feeling “breathe baby.” Jack ordered watching in awe as the water dripped from your stiff and sensitive peak.

You huffed trying to hold back a moan desperate for Jack to let you come “‘m so sorr-” you cut yourself off as he moved his attention to your other breast repeating his actions with what was left of the ice cube “think you should beg to come.” Jack had to admit that his cock pulsated in his sweatpants as it felt forgotten and unloved waiting for you to turn your focus to it “please Jack!” You cried trying to form a coherent sentence.

Your thighs shook as you couldn’t keep them planted on the mattress anymore “I’ll never fake an orgasm ever again.” You offered with your voice oozing in pleads “going to need more from you than that.” Jack shook his head again dropped the ice cube onto your stomach causing him to grunt out in pleasure as he watched it glide down your torso finally stopping just above your belly button.

It seemed like as the ice cube stopped so did your vibration causing your high that had built up to quick drop again “think you can go again?” Jack asked massaging the little 86 tattoo that you had on your hip “uh huh,” you whimpered feeling your vibrator slide out of your core.

Jacks weight shifted to the side of your bed before he went back to the centre, his arms wrapped around your thighs as if you could have tried to go anywhere else “shush baby.” Jack cooed as he pursed his lips around the cube of ice bringing his mouth down to your slit.

You cried out in pleasure feeling the cold cube pressed up against your clit as Jack ran the cube down your slit “p-p-please Jack.” You whined tensing up your whole body as he pushed the cube into your soaked cunt.

It made you moan as the ice began to melt in your warm core leaving Jack to suck at your clit “want to touch you,” you complained as tugged as the belt once more now fully aware that it was going to cause a bruise on your wrist’s tomorrow “not yet.” Jacks words could barely be heard as he didn’t pick his head up from your clit as his tongue swirled around the sensitive nub.

It didn’t help that you were still feeling those two previous attempts at orgasm that failed so now all you wanted as for this one to suck you into the bliss that would have been coming around his cock as you saw the stars “Jesus baby you’re soaked.” The hockey player smirked to himself knowing that this was all his work.

He went back to letting his tongue work on your clit as your body began to shiver, thighs driving towards him “all for you.” You stumbled over your words “all real too.” You added desperate to clench around something that wasn’t the quickly melting ice as that was how you liked to come.

Jacks cock stuffing you to the brim as his thumb played on your clit or with your nipples “you know the rules tonight.” He pulled away once more making you huff in annoyance.

The hockey player stared at your body sat there all innocently as he smiled seeing how frustrated you were “you had enough?” Jack asked leaning forward as he pushed the tie off of your head.

It took you a few seconds to adjust before you looked at him “just want you now.” You complained sending him a needy look that he couldn’t say no to.

Jack nodded undoing his belt before he rubbed your wrists “next time, I’m tying you up.” You mumbled cupping his face with your hands so that you could pull him into a kiss.

The boy almost fell onto your bed as you pulled him down “I wanna fuck you.” Jack confessed deciding that the pain in his cock was no longer worth it.

The hockey player smiled as you hooked your fingers in his waistband “no baby, I’m gonna work for you tonight.” Now this was the apology part of the plan.

He let his sweatpants drop to the floor as he kicked the ends off “been so good for me baby.” Jack cooed leaning down to kiss your lips.

Your eyes fluttered feeling his cock run against your clit “please don’t tease me.” You begged not believing that you could handle more of it “just making sure you were ready.” Jack joked not giving you enough time to snap back at him before he thrusted his throbbing cock in your wet cunt.

Jack didn’t even need the time to let you adjust before he hooked your legs over his shoulder “my flexible good girl.” He mumbled hovering his lips over yours as he established a good rhythm that would be aided by your sensitive core “god Jack.” You moaned feeling your breasts bounce with each thrust of his cock.

The sight was hot, no distance between the love drunk couple as the sound of your moans harmonised together “just me baby.” The hockey player grunted feeling your pussy clench around his cock “you want to come already?” His tone was teasing.

Your face grew red as you nodded “making me feel so full your toes curled as pleasure pulsated through your body.

Jack needed just a bit more from you “hold it,” he warned not wanting to ruin a hot night because you couldn’t listen.

His order made tears form in your eyes as he stared down at you, letting his hair down to tickle your face “Jack please,” you begged as the pressure between your thighs threatened to burst at any minute.

His grunts quickly joined a competition with your moans in an effort to drown the other out “keep squeezing my cock like that baby.” Jacks thoughts began to grown foggy as his orgasm approach too.

Your fingers slid between your two bodies “I can’t hold it anymore Jack.” You confessed letting those fingers attach your clit as they rubbed in a circular motion.

Jack let his head drop to your neck in a similar way that he did it the night before “come for me baby.” He ordered replacing your hand in your clit “come so the neighbours can hear who makes you feel like this.” The hockey player let his lips nip at the skin of your neck in order to control himself.

His hips snapped so fast if was like they might have snapped out of place “fucking shit Jack!” You cried out grinding your hips into his as you eyes screwed shut.

His orgasm came shortly after yours with how you came around his naked cock -something you two hadn’t done before- “holy shit baby.” Jack gasped final a final thrust into your cunt before he pulled his cock out “you squirted.” He pointed out looking at the wet patch on his lower torso.

Before you had the chance to grow embarrassed he smiled “that was the hottest thing I think I’ve ever seen.” Jack confessed kissing your cheeks, a habit he had picked up whenever you blushed.

You smiled looking at him “think I should fake some more orgasms if we are gonna have sex like that afterwards.” You joked running your fingers through his hair “next time I’m not going to let you come.” Jack warned making you laugh.

The hockey player had to admit that these small moments after sex with you were some of his favourites “bath or shower?” He proposed knowing that you both desperately needed a clean “bath.”

#jack hughes smut #Jack Hughes imagines #nhl smut #hockey smut #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #nhl oneshot #nhl imagine #imagines #oneshots #jack hughes one shot #jack hughes x reader #amber writes fics

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beefboyandbabygirl · 10 months

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Pretend It's Someone That Came for You (18+)

pairing: coworker!wonwoo x fem!touch-starved!reader

genre: coworker au, office au, strangers to lovers, angst w a happy ending, smut (MDNI!!), fluffy fluffy fluff fluff

description: you're lonely. you're so lonely you think it might actually kill you. but when wonwoo transfers to your office, he might just change that fact.

warnings: unprotected sex (do NOT pls my babes), soft dom!wonwoo, sub!reader, v loving sex, praise (f. receiving), confession of love, riding, fingering (f. receiving), pussy rubbing tihi, pet names (pretty girl, good girl, baby, darling, etc), VERY angsty beginning, yn is truly v sad so DO NOT READ THIS if u fear it will make u sad!!, they say i love u unrealistically fast but i had to do it, yn uses sex to feel less lonely/ends up feeling more lonely, relatable yn frs, slightly dramatized symptoms of touch-starvation (?), kinda boring plot but idc bc its CUTE AF

quotes from my creative director (@joshibambi): "finally!!" (she was fed tf up), "stanley is the most stanley man ever. i hate him but i love him.", (more r coming she actually didnt have time 2 read this and i didnt want to wait with posting.)

wordcount: 10.0k

a/n: this story was supposed 2 have more angst, like it was supposed to have this whole misunderstanding, but it just didnt feel right, it made me sad, so instead this is a short n sweet love story xx

Sometimes you think that the loneliness might kill you.

You weren’t always like this. You remember being a sociable, joyful child; half-broken bikes and teddy bears and booster seats. You remember pigtails and popsicle sticks and Power Rangers, and what came after that? Being a moody teenager, became being a moody adult. High school became college, and college became an office job that served to keep you alive, even if it didn’t feel like being alive. College wasn’t that bad, you remember, so at what point had you mistaken isolation for privilege? And at what point had you gone too far into that tunnel-hole to turn back?

You must’ve been cursed, you think, putting on your outfit for work in the deadly still apartment. Dust dares not move, dares not give you hope that you are not alone.

You must’ve been cursed, you think, coming into work to a string of half-hearted, mumbled greetings. Your office is off-white and black and gray and everyone inhabiting it is also off-white and black and gray, and their skin is faintly oily and sickly and their faces are dragging down as if the very earth was reclaiming them and you think that you fit in here better than anywhere else.

You must’ve been cursed, you think, when you spend your day writing emails and organizing documents of information into different formats to send to huge corporations. Sometimes you fantasize about the other end of the transaction. Maybe their office is warm and brown with an accent of blue, and maybe people put hands on each other's shoulders, when they tell one another they’ve done a good job.

Yes, there’s no other explanation, you think, and can’t even muster the energy to feel bad when you blame some old hag from your hometown. You think she must’ve conjured up the worst ingredients, something cartoonishly evil, and a spell befell you, sunk into the crevices of your skin and dug into your pores.

You lie on your couch with a glass of wine and the television going, but you’re not really listening. You don’t think anyone has touched you in six months. You’re not even sure you’re real anymore. You swear, you could live with no one hearing you out, because you’re not sure you’d have anything worthwhile to say, but you just needed someone to touch you. To reach out a hand and confirm, you’re real, you’re right underneath my fingertips, and I’m squeezing your shoulder, and I see you, and I feel you right here.

Sometimes you think that the loneliness might kill you.

Lying physically very still, you still feel like you’re scrambling, fighting the clutch of the curse, and tugging on metal chains. Maybe that’s where all your energy goes.

What do normal people do when they feel this bad?

Sometimes you leave open the window, and when the wind tugs at your door, you pretend it’s someone that came for you.

Tug, tug, tug. The door rattles against its hinges when the fatally empty sky brings to you, in outstretched palms, the wind interlaced with glimmers of hope.

There’s never anyone at the door. _____________________________

This particular day starts like any other. You wake to your alarm and you put on clothes and you get ready and brush your teeth. Then you trample down to the bus stop. The sky is smothered by a duvet of heavy rain clouds. The rain hasn't come yet, but you know it will. Your fingers become stiff and hard, where they adhere to the polyester strap of your bag, massaging it. The bag is cold and dead.

The bus ride is by far the greatest part of your day. It’s quiet - early enough that you’re only accompanied by a few other souls. You rest your head on the window, vibrating gently against the curve of your forehead, and watch the people in the street.

The bus hums a gentle tune and snakes down the streets. Then you’re there, and whatever solace that it offers you under artificial light and mediocre, felted seats is gone.

Your office building is maybe the most depressing place on earth. It’s no glamorous feat of architecture. It is but a large, orange-y, puke-y, brick square, and the building is shared between yours and the Forester company. You don’t talk to the Foresters, but you know they eat cream cheese bagels on their breaks and throw birthday parties and once you saw the branch manager squeezing a salesman’s shoulder and telling him he had done a good job. His fingers squeezed down and the movement of the fabric revealed a shoulder pad built into the suit. You remember thinking it was a shame that it blocked the real touch.

Today, you walk up the stairs with heavy steps and you idle into the office building, eyes cast down to the dirty, gray carpet. You begin the long trek into the back of the building where your desk is located.

“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Tina.

“Morning, Tina,” you mumble back.

“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Gerard.

“Morning, Gerard,” you mumble back.

“Morning.”

“M-”

Wait a minute.

Your greeting falls short. You don’t recognize that voice. Stopping in your tracks, your shoes scratch on the rough carpet, and lift your head to see him.

The first thing you notice is that he’s the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen. He looks like he jumped out of an underwear commercial; he’s all strong jawline, sharp eyes, round glasses on his pretty nose, neatly trimmed, short dark hair stretching down the planes of his face. He’s wearing a button up (usually you wouldn’t even register the clothing your coworkers adorned, but something about how he wore it was noteworthy), a tie draping over the dress shirt, and formal slacks hugging his thighs.

He smiles at you sheepishly, hands nervously smoothing down his thighs.

“I’m Wonwoo” he says curtly, nodding to you. “Just transferred from the Wallingset branch.”

You nod. “Right. Wallingset,” you nod more. “Nice to meet you. I’m Y/n.”

“Nice to meet you too, Y/n.”

Something about your name on his lips makes your heart flutter. It’s pathetic, you know, but his peregrine being in his office chair, spilling your name from his pink lips makes you feel a little more real. You look at him and then you nod again-again, kicking your legs into gear again and walking the last stretch to your desk.

You can see the back of his head from your orange-wood desk. Papers and sticky notes are scattered among the desktop. The monitor watches you accusingly, all big and square and black, waiting for you to open it up and begin working. Your eyes linger on him for a moment. Then you work.

A few hours pass on emails and translating information from a company into a comprehensive sheet. However, today you’re having a hard time focusing on work.

This is not new.

Sometimes you briefly talk to a man at the grocery store, and your mind will wander to him for next week, wondering if he’s thinking about you too, imagining yourself cuddling with him, watching movies, imagining him telling you it’ll all be okay. Sometimes you briefly talk to a man on the street, sometimes it’s even a date, but whatever the case you obsess and you dream and you always end up alone.

Today the victim of your depraved mind is Wonwoo. The guilt is easy to push away. You feel sorry for yourself. You think you deserve this. You think you can’t survive without this. And so you imagine him hugging you, stroking your hair, and you imagine him falling in love with you, and you imagine not being alone. Your fingers rest on your keyboard. It’s old and mechanical. You think it’s from a yard sale, probably an old woman whose children moved away. It’s plastic, and it curves inwards underneath the pads of your fingertips. The keys are cold and dead.

You fully zone out, eyes blearing into the back of his head, but you don’t really see it, your mind has traveled elsewhere. You guiltily imagine his hand between your legs, on your chest, straddling him, kissing him. And it’s not rough, it’s loving, because in this world he loves you, and he’d do anything for you, and you don’t have to be alone again.

You don’t love Wonwoo. It’s not some magical love at first sight, it’s not a romance book, it’s real life. You’re lonely. You need this to survive.

“Hey, Y/n?”

You snap your head up. Maybe you were still daydreaming. But you recognized the voice well and true, and it was Wonwoo, leaned over your desk, hands in his pockets.

“Oh, uhm, hey-” your voice is shaky and you quickly rush to compose yourself, hands moving frantically and uselessly to glide papers over one another and, then, realizing that there was no point to your movements, stilling and looking up at him, cheeks flushed. “Hey.”

Wonwoo smiles gently. “Uh, you know, I was wondering,” he looks around the office, as if surveying the area. ��If you knew where to get a good lunch? I don’t know this area at all, so..”

He trails off, looking at you expectantly for an answer. Now that he’s standing before you, it’s much harder to ignore the guilt you feel. You wanna gnaw at your nails until they’re nubs, you want to crawl under your desk and cover your eyes. Does he see how red your cheeks are?

“Uhm- well- I don’t- I eat a packed lunch, so I’m-”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I’m, uh, no expert,” you giggle awkwardly and watch his gentle smile drop into pursed lips. “But! Uh- I hear the- the hot dog stand, uh, just a little down the street is good!”

“Really? Maybe I should try it,” he contemplates, smile returning to his lips. “Would you mind showing me this mysterious hot dog stand?”

“Uh-”

Just seconds before you were thinking of his fingers in your pussy, and his hands caressing you, and him making you feel loved. He’s standing before you and he’s a totally normal guy, and you feel like shit. You feel like shit for using this fake image of him to comfort yourself. You can’t be around him, can’t convince yourself that maybe this’ll turn into something more - not when you always end up alone. Your brows furrow in determination.

“Actually, I have to, uh, get this done, so-” you gesture vaguely to your monitor.

“Right! Yeah,” Wonwoo seems embarrassed, biting his lips and nodding. “It’s, uh, just down the street?”

“Yeah, to the right when you walk out the building.”

“For sure. Thanks,” he doesn’t even look at you then, just waves you off half-heartedly and starts trailing down the office. His shoulders are incredibly broad and his belt wraps tightly around his small waist.

You feel like shit. _____________________________

Why is no one else cursed?

You look out of the window, lying on your bed after work. Everything is very still and unmoving - your whole apartment feels like it’s knotted in strings, tightened until everything is snapped into place, and if you move the wrong muscles, the invisible hands will let go and everything will fly and hurdle through your home, and you can almost hear the sound, like the hard, empty sound of throwing a bowling ball and getting a strike.

No one else is cursed. People crowd the streets with friends, family, partners, and they’re talking and laughing. You rest your head in the windowsill, a lone spectator in the window. The glass cuts you off from the streets.

The afternoon after daydreaming the way you did about Wonwoo is always hard. Your apartment seems intent on suffocating you. Your daydreams serve as a reminder that you’re alone, that you truly have no one, and the act itself is so humiliating, you sulk into a glass of red wine and sometimes you cry. What do normal people do when they feel this bad, you wonder again, sobbing in your bed and spilling wine on your nightie.

Nighttime falls early while you’re crying. You weep on and off, hug your knees, eat a microwave dinner and watch TV, light casting onto your pathetic form on the couch.

And in your most vulnerable state is when you most easily slip into your old habits.

You press an old contact in your phone, one you’d tried to steer away from recently. You wipe mascara from your reddened cheeks, you wear pretty lingerie, and you lie, completely empty, void of any warmth, on your bed, awaiting.

It’s the first time he touches you in months. When his hand finds your shoulder, you shudder terribly. Sorry, he says, and he seems taken aback. Just ignore it, you plead, just ignore it. He does so, unsurely, and every time his hand grazes over your body you shudder and sob and every time he hesitates, asking if you’re okay, you cry at him to continue.

It feels good while it’s happening. Skin beneath your fingertips, hands on you, a face close to yours. You and him are the only thing moving in the apartment, synergizing on your bed, conjoining and writhing, and for just a moment, you don’t feel so alone.

When you’re done the anonymous man stands back up, sliding on his pants in the late hour. He says it was great and you hum. But then he looks around, hesitating on every old piece of furniture, on every photo on the walls, and lastly on you.

“What?” you ask, lying naked in your bed. He grimaces at you, as if signaling that he can’t quite figure it out himself.

“I don’t know,” he says slowly, hands on his newly-clothed hips and surveying the corners of the room, where shadows pool. “It feels haunted in here.”

He leaves.

When the warmth is gone, the bile rises in your throat. Old habits die hard, you think, and you feel totally empty. You couldn’t go on like this. It was nights like these you began to feel like a martyr - sacrificing yourself for a brief escape. Because when the door is closed with a click and you’re alone again, you feel yourself trembling and your heart is glowing red in the empty astral plane. Brief, easy forms of pleasure are often the most harmful.

It feels haunted in here. You remember his words, and before you finally fall asleep, you wonder one thing. You wonder if you’re already dead. _____________________________

The next day is a pain to overcome. You’re slightly hungover, slightly sore, and very uncomfortable. But you comply with your routine, and you enjoy the bus ride, and when you get to the office everyone greets you.

“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Tina.

“Morning, Tina,” you mumble back.

“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Gerard.

“Morning, Gerard,” you mumble back.

“Morning, Y/n,” Wonwoo says. You look up from the carpet carefully, flashing him an apologetic smile. You hope he can read its intention: Sorry about being weird yesterday. You think he got it.

“Morning, Wonwoo.”

And then you’re landing yourself at your own desk and beginning work once more. It’s boring, but today you ward off the daydreams and you focus, and you’re getting an exceptional amount done.

The clock on the wall (off-white, but yellowing near the top) reads 12:28 when your boss, Stan, approaches your table. He’s half bald, and his suit is much too loose, and he has a ladder of wrinkles climbing his larger-than-life forehead.

“Hey, N/n!” he calls, so loud that a couple of heads turn at the commotion. You’ve asked him several times not to call you that.

“Stanley,” you breathe, tapping a stack of papers on your desk to neaten the pile. You wonder if you were in trouble, but if his smile is anything to go by, you’d guess not.

“My favorite woman in accounting!”

“Hehe,” you laugh half-heartedly. You catch the eye of Wonwoo, glancing over his shoulder with a small, teasing smile. You smile back.

“I have a big- oh wait, wait, new guy, uhh, Jeon? Come over here real quick!” Suddenly his solid fingers waft the now scared Wonwoo over. The spectacled man’s shoulders hunch up as he moves off the chair, nodding respectfully. Wonwoo stands beside Stanley at your desk, and you focus your attention on Stanley, hoping to not get too lost in the idea of Wonwoo again - you were doing so good today.

“I have a big job for you, and I thought you could work with Wonwoo on it,” Stan moves his hand up to cup the side of his mouth, as if telling you a big secret, “seeing as he was a bit of a star over in Wallingset.”

Shit. The guy you were daydreaming about was working with you? Wonwoo laughs, embarrassed, but you hardly have time to catch it. You can’t do this. Yesterday you were thinking about him fingering you while looking at you lovingly!

“We have a massive, new client! Just dropped a big competitor of ours, and they want us to do their six month report!” Stanley seems genuinely excited about this, so you can’t help feeling a little guilty that you’ll be a gobbering, slobbering mess, sitting beside Wonwoo on this.

“That’s great-”

“I know! So, my two star members in accountancy, I’ll hand this off to you. The data should be coming into your emails soon,” without letting either of you react, Stanley hunches over, like a coach does before a little-league baseball game, wrapping his arms around both of you and Wonwoo. “You got this, troopers!”

Stanley claps his hands on both of your backs, so hard you jerk forward at the movement, and then he bounces off to the elevator at the far end of the room. You sigh heavily from the interaction. It’s quiet for a moment, while you fiddle with the papers in front of you.

“What a guy,” Wonwoo muses finally, thin fingers resting on the edge of your desk. You giggle, unable to look him in the eye for fear that you might remember how you’d thought about starting a family with him. “Yeah.”

You and Wonwoo settle into an unoccupied meeting room, and it’s all very professional. Markers and post-its, trying to find the best way to structure the report, excel sheets to categorize and overlook data, double check numbers.

However bad you think it’s going to be, you’re wrong. Wonwoo is easy to talk to - he’s quiet, but he’s intelligent, and he understands how to bring on conversation, even when you fold in on yourself like a used napkin.

“Yeah, we used to steal signs from our neighborhood,” Wonwoo admits halfway into a conversation about your hometowns. “I don’t think that’s gonna fly anymore.”

“Why stop now? You’re letting societal rules hold you back,” you joke, and the two of you laugh, and it’s so pathetic, you’re certain you haven’t laughed this much in years, and the conversation has lasted maybe 20 minutes.

“Well, I could show you the craft, you know, it’s a delicate process-”

While Wonwoo talks your phone buzzes and you absent-mindedly pick it up, reviewing the notification.

Your grin drops. Faintly, you hear Wonwoo stop talking. He tilts his head to study the way you frown at the screen. “What’s up?” he asks.

It’s the guy from last night and he’s asking if you’ll be available again tonight.

Maybe it’s how you could almost forget it - how you let yourself into positions that would hurt you, just to feel seen and heard and touched. Maybe it’s the dichotomy of that encounter and now, talking to Wonwoo, and having the laughter steal away the loneliness. But you’re reminded so terribly of your position. You’re reminded that this, too, will end, and that the loneliness will return. You’re reminded that once the shift ends, you’re alone again.

Suddenly you’re a thousand daggers all pointing out. You shield yourself.

“Uh,” you trail off, putting the phone down again. “Just some guy.”

Wonwoo’s eyebrows raise. “Boyfriend?”

“No!” you say quickly. “No, he’s, uh. Just some guy.”

A pause.

“Okay,” Wonwoo says. You don’t even remember where you left off the conversation. You bite your lip because everything is all agony. The table is cold and dead beneath your hand.

“I’m thinking we group these together,” you say, eyes now tuned to your screen and fully submerged back into your work. Work. That was all that could cover your beaten down, cursed self.

The rest of the shift you feel Wonwoo looking at you carefully, as if he’s trying to read you. You don’t talk about yourselves anymore, no more banter, no more witty comments. You structure the report, and try to ignore how his eyes laser you open. You don’t like it. You feel like he can tell you’re a pathetic, lonely woman and that you have nothing and no one. You feel like he can sense the curse upon you.

This would be torture. _____________________________

It is not torture.

The next day, to your surprise, Wonwoo is nowhere to be seen. You wait 5, 10, then 15 minutes in the meeting room you’d camped in, before you begin working on your own. It’s slower without him, but you manage.

You can’t help but slightly worry about him. It feels stupid. You know you’re putting too much emotion into a person you’d known for two days, but you can’t help it. You wonder if he’s gotten hurt or injured, or if maybe he hates you and has transferred back. You think even Excel finds you pathetic.

You sit there for three hours, among the ruins of paperwork and your open laptop, running your hand through your hair and typing in sentences that mean nothing, and the wallpaper is off-white and yellowing at the top, and the blinds are closed to the meeting room.

Around 1 PM the door to the meeting room is opened, wood smacking against the glass that surrounds it, and Wonwoo stands in the doorway, slightly out of breath. You snap your head up to him, like the jerk of a lifeless doll, suddenly interrupted from a very disorganized Excel sheet.

“Hi, shit, sorry,” he gasps, slinging his bag off of his shoulder to sit down next to you.

“Are you okay?” you ask immediately, and Wonwoo nods blindly, pulling his laptop out of his bag. “Yeah,” he says, cheeks slightly flushed and licking his lips. “My cat- my cat needed surgery, she got sick last night, it was an emergency.”

You nod in understanding, “it’s okay-”

You can hardly get the words out before Wonwoo rolls his chair back, wheels resounding hollowly on the floor, so he can look at you clearly. “I’m really sorry about this, it was not nice of me to leave you alone with this.” He gestures vaguely to the scattered papers, and you shake your head.

“It’s okay, Wonwoo, I get it,” you say reassuringly, peering up at him through your lashes. “You don’t need to worry about it. You’re here now.”

Wonwoo seems less intent on personal conversations today - it’s probably because he was so late, and now is trying to make up the time. But it’s okay, in fact you’re somewhat relieved, because it dampens the false hope that blooms in your chest, whenever he asks you about your life.

Even if you and Wonwoo work hard and quietly, you slip into the late hours of the night in an attempt to keep on track for your schedule. Outside the windows that separate you from real life, the sky turns orange, and then dark, muted blue, and stars begin dotting its impressive stretches. People begin to leave around five, and by the time you and Wonwoo finish all your work, you’re the last ones left on your floor of the office.

Wonwoo lets out a loud sigh when he finally finishes the second segment of your report, and the both of you slump back in your seats.

“It’s so fucking late,” Wonwoo limply throws his hand in the direction of the window. You smile a little, looking out. Smaller buildings spawn geometrically from the ground, and every once in a while someone walks by with their dog, spotlighted by the stretch of street lamps that stand outside the parking lot. “I really am sorry about this, you know. Really ruined your night,” he says quietly.

You shake your head. “It’s fine, I had nothing to come home to anyway.”

There’s a pause.

Wonwoo looks at you intensely. Oh shit, you realize, was that too obvious? Was that too pathetic? Has it just clicked that you’re a loser that no one wants? You nervously look back at him, but there’s no malice in his eyes. A totally unreadable expression adorns his features, where he’s leaned back in his leather chair, legs spread invitingly. You look away, feeling dumb.

“At least we followed our schedule!” you say. Wonwoo snorts.

“Yeah, thanks to you. If you hadn’t completed so much before I got here, it would’ve been hopeless.”

Now it’s your turn to scoff, blushing lightly and looking at the linoleum flooring. “I don’t know about tha-”

“Seriously, Y/n, just take the compliment,” Wonwoo reaches a hand over, and you watch its movement.

It’s like time slows down, not like the movies, no, like you can stop time with the heavy weight of your gaze, pinning his muscles in place. But you can’t, and it lands on your shoulder with a soft thud. Fuck. His hand is warm and alive on you.

“You did so well today, I-” Wonwoo cuts himself off, because suddenly you’re trembling.

He feels your body shuddering and jerking under his hand, like the wind rattles your door when you leave it open, and he can’t see your face behind a curtain of hair, but he hears you gasp, and, fuck, you look like you’re sobbing.

The man from last night had become so hesitant when you reacted this way. When your body trembled and shook and when you cried, but Wonwoo seems to understand. He peers at you from above the rims of his glasses, and his hand stays put right there on your shoulder.

“Y/n,” he whispers, so sincere it causes a pathetic squeak to escape you. What must he think of you? The thoughts spiral and you can’t control a single one of them, they dance like freed souls in your head, and you can’t stop the spasming of your muscles, and you know you look so pathetic beside him right. “Y/n, look at me.”

You don’t. You can’t. You can’t because there are tears spilling from the rims of your eyes, and rolling down your cheeks, wet and glossy. Besides, you’re an ugly crier.

“Look at me,” he says seriously, finger tightening on your shoulder. You try to steady your breath and calm your tears, before you obey and begin to turn your chair. The simple motion requires so much effort - it’s like the air has become so thick, that the friction against your leather seat slows you down.

Finally you turn to him, eyes first resting on his knees, then, carefully, traveling up to his face. He’s frowning.

Your face is reddened and your eyes are puffy, your cheeks are shiny and you chew your bottom lip in a futile attempt to keep the tears at bay.

Wonwoo looks genuinely devastated. The hand on your shoulder softens its grasp, then begins petting your arm, rubbing up and down. The action has you choking out gasps, trembling even more in his hold, and Wonwoo feels the need to roll his chair closer to you, so his other hand can grab yours. His thumb rubs over the back of it, and he lowers his head to look at you.

“Shh, relax, relax, Y/n,” he whispers, and you try to nod, but it’s so overwhelming; being touched, being seen, being heard, all at once. For months, maybe years, no one has touched you like this - as if they care. Now the feeling is foreign, so scorching hot on your arm and your hand, your body can’t take it anymore. You’re stuck between wanting to lean into his hands, wanting to feel how real you are, and how physically true your existence is, and wanting to shy away. What must he think of you?

“Y/n,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut to banish the sigh of your sobbing. “When was the last time someone touched you?”

You hiccup painfully. “Uhm- I- I don’t, ” your eyes are bleary and your lashes are wet. Your lip trembles and your whole body shakes when you try to breathe.

Apparently this was enough of an answer for Wonwoo, because he suddenly stands, somewhat harshly tugging you into a standing position too, and pulls you directly into the harbor of his arms.

Instinctively, you wrap your arms around his torso. His chest is pressed flat against yours, so, so warm, when he nudges your head into the crook of his neck, and presses his face against its side, sighing softly into you, and breathing warm air onto your hair. His palms push you into him, soothing your trembling body, and holding you like an anker. One hand travels up to your hair.

“W-Wonwoo, you don’t have to-”

“Shh,” he quiets you immediately, voice the softest wind of a peach tree. “Just let me take care of you.”

You do. Wonwoo holds you until you stop crying, and though it must’ve been twenty minutes or so, it feels like no time at all. Standing in his space, breathing in his dark cologne, and letting his heat thaw your dead heart is a totally timeless act. Joy and serenity flows from the places where your bodies touch. When you stop crying, Wonwoo holds you for longer.

Eventually, he lets you go.

You step back sheepishly, now much calmer and the red in your face faded. You wipe your tired eyes shyly with your sleeve.

“Thank you, Wonwoo,” you mumble, voice thick and garbled. When you look up at him, he smiles softly, although it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says softly, arm extending one last time to squeeze your forearm. Then it falls limp again.

“I, uh, I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Of course.”

When you return home, you’re buzzing. Your entire apartment buzzes along with you, things seem to clatter and beam along with the bright, glowing of your heart. You snuggle into bed and nothing is still and even when you’re drifting into sleep, your nerve endings spin in joyful circles, and your feet are a static hum. Suddenly you are very, very real. _____________________________

You’d think the next day would be tense and awkward, and maybe it is at first, but soon enough you’re talking again, more intimately than before even.

This is Wonwoo’s doing - you know this. You know he’s smart and you know he doesn’t want you to feel bad, so he makes conversation and builds trust between the two of you. You know he hopes you don’t feel insecure. Every word he says and every flick of his eyes is riddled with it.

The conversation decidedly slows down your progress, so Wonwoo once more suggests staying overtime. You look at him for a moment before agreeing.

You can’t tell what his end goal is. A chamber of your heart has been revived and rebirthed, and you’re more chipper, more bouncy, but the rest of your heart insists: you’re still cursed - eventually it’ll go back to how it should be. You listen. You try not to get your hopes up that Wonwoo really cares about you. Why should he, really?

Although when you’re done for the day, about an hour after your usual 5 PM, you stand up and begin to pack your things, laptop sliding into your bag and clustering pens in your hand. It’s gray outside, but the sun comes in a single strand through a gap in the smog and the clouds. The wind hoots by the windows, and it smells like the indian you ordered for lunch together.

You stop your packing, feeling a set of eyes in your back. You twist your head to see him.

Wonwoo is sitting completely still in his chair, slack-covered legs spread open, and he makes no move to collect his own things. He just stares.

“What’s up?” you quip. You’re slightly nervous. Just before it was all silly childhood stories, college and weed and life before the dead-end job. Now Wonwoo has that unreadable expression on his face again.

He slowly lifts his hands from the armrest, eyes locked with yours, and claps his palms on the tops of his thighs.

Your eyebrows furrow.

“Wha-”

“Come here,” he says simply. When you stand completely still, like a deer in the headlights, Wonwoo scoffs and rolls his eyes. “What? You think you’re cured because someone hugged you once?”

“Cured?”

“You’re touch-starved, Y/n,” Wonwoo states matter-of-factly, “you need to be touched.”

“Touch-starved?” you echo, a bewildered expression on your face.

“We can also just hug, like yesterday,” he suggests calmly. You envy his collectedness. “I just don’t want you to feel bad. So please. Come sit.”

To emphasize, Wonwoo pats his thighs again, patiently. You step away from your bag with hesitating steps, pursing your lips. Your cheeks blaze when you look at his thighs again - they’re so long, and the folds in his slacks stretch down and centralize on his crotch and- You’re being a pervert.

“Okay,” you squeak and Wonwoo tuts. Why is that hot, you think, why the hell is that hot?

“We can just hug if you-”

You feel bold.

Without letting him finish, you swing your leg over his, and plop down, straddling halfway down his thighs. You thank God you put pants on this morning instead of a skirt, when you look down at where you rest on top of him.

Wonwoo is a little taken aback, but when you’ve settled on him, his hands find your waist and he looks up at you with a hum. Your breathing is a little shaky. Once again his hands provide a pumping of golden joy into your body, and more of you comes alive and becomes real, and you smile.

What had Wonwoo been talking about? Touch-starved?

“What’s, um-” your question is cut off with a gasp, when Wonwoo uses his hands on your middle to tug you closer. You rest on the highest point of thighs that you can without sitting on his dick. Cheeks red and eyes squeezed shut, you hear how Wonwoo hums, pleased. “What were you talking about? Touch-starved?” you whisper, keeping your eyes shut.

Wonwoo sighs, and once more, like the movement is entirely replayed, his hand finds your hair and pushes your face into the crook of his neck. You sigh against it, enjoying how his arms protect you and hide you from the evil of the world.

“If you don’t touch anyone,” Wonwoo begins, his voice low bass in your ear, “you become touch-starved. That’s why you reacted the way you did yesterday.”

His hands run up and down your sides.

“But- but I’m not crying today,” you say quietly into his neck. Wonwoo hums.

“No, that’s good,” he says. “We can stop if you really want, I just wa-”

“No!” your voice squeaks immediately, and, as if he were running from you, you fist his shirt to keep him close.

“Okay,” there’s a smile in Wonwoo’s voice. You can’t see it but you can imagine it.

Comfortable silence. Wonwoo traces patterns on your back and you breathe deeply against the skin of his neck. The two of you function as one living thing, the only living thing left in the office. Chairs are turned halfway, a couple lights are left on. The desks betray the past presence of humans.

“Wonwoo,” you pip.

“Mhm?”

“You don’t have to do this, you know? I don’t want you to do it if you- if it’s just.. Pity.”

Wonwoo sighs, and you feel the way his torso deflates underneath you. He trails his hand up from your back to tap your cheek. You move back and look at him.

Your faces are very close, you can feel how your exhales collide and then scatter, hell, you think you could count each of his eyelashes from here.

“I already told you. I’m doing this because I don’t want you to feel bad. I-” he hesitates for a moment, pursing his lips. “I’ve been there. So I know what it’s like.”

The thought of Wonwoo feeling like this, like you, is sickening. Genuinely sickening, you feel your insides turn to rot and mold and you frown so deeply, you think your lips might forever lock in that position.

“I’m okay now,” he reassures, reading you immediately. His hand finds your cheek and he almost cries out at the way you lean into it blindly.

“How did you-.. I- I always thought it was, like, a lifelong curse,” you say.

“A curse?” Wonwoo grins, thumb stroking over the skin of your cheek. It makes you happy, it makes you feel like your heart will burst.

“Yeah. I guess I just blamed some old woman from my hometown,” you giggle, blushing a little because, yes, it did sound stupid when you weren’t just echoing the theory to yourself, like playing a team sport alone.

“You’re not cursed,” Wonwoo promises, tucking your head into his chest. “I’ll help you, don’t worry. I’ll take care of you from now on.”

He does take care of you.

Every day you work overtime, and every day when you’re done with work, Wonwoo slides you into his lap and holds you, while you curl up in his chest. Then you talk and you laugh, and you listen to each other's music. His hands run warm up your back and in your hair and on your hips, gentle caresses, deeply intimate. For two weeks you and Wonwoo indulge in this nighttime ritual.

You have not felt lonely since that night. And Wonwoo can tell. Your skin is warmer and brighter, you smile wider, your eyes twinkle, and there’s energy in every movement. Your body thaws under his warm hands every night, and sometimes when you smile, he gets so happy he could kiss you.

You realize you like Wonwoo one particular night when you’re falling asleep in your bed and you can still feel the ghost of his arms around you and it lulls you into a deep, dreamless sleep, and when you wake up you smell a little bit like his cologne. That’s how you realize. You like how considerate and how gentle he is, you like how sweet he is to you, you like how he looks when he smiles and when he laughs and you like how much he loves his cat. You like how his arms feel wrapped around you.

And you like him, and suddenly your apartment is a song that you dance in, and every photo on your walls is smiling and your bed is always warm and so is your heart.

There’s nothing dead in here, you think, when you cook a delicious meal on the stovetop, sauce bubbling in a stainless steel pan. Nothing haunted about your home or your heart. _____________________________

“We’re almost done.”

“Mhm.”

“I can’t believe we’re almost done!”

Wonwoo looks up, bemused, lips made small and pointed. You’re staring at the almost-done document, scrolling up and down through long and arduous paragraphs. It’s nighttime again - not that you had to stay late today, it was a choice - and the city glimmers brilliantly in the coolness. You and Wonwoo wear sweaters to keep warm.

“Feels like a lifetime,” Wonwoo murmurs, same smile upon his beautiful face. His cheekbones point out from beneath his skin.

“Yeah,” you breathe, leaning back. You won’t put your fingers back on the keyboard. Not when it could be done so soon. You look at him, all snuggled up in a brown sweater. “What if..”

A pause. He tilts his head.

“Well, are we still gonna talk?” you chew your lip dejectedly, feeling a little sad and desperate, but Wonwoo only laughs. It’s a beautiful sound, it’s one you associate with joy.

“Of course,” he says, as his laughter quiets down. “If you want to.”

A shy smile forms on your lips. You turn to look back at the computer, but you hear the now-familiar sound of Wonwoo patting his thighs. You flit your eyes back to him, teasingly scolding.

“We’re not done.”

“We don’t have to be done now,” he shrugs, an equally teasing smile on his lips. You roll your eyes, but, unsurprisingly, you shift over to him, sitting down in his lap. He immediately tugs you closer, fingers searching for stimulation on the seams of your jeans. There’s something different about Wonwoo today, you realize, his touch is more feverish, his fingers dig deeper into the fat of your hips and he looks up at you like you’re a diamond-encrusted chandelier, hanging from the ceiling, all glittering jewels.

“What’s up?” you giggle nervously. It’s becoming hard to breathe with the way he paws at your hips.

There’s something in the air between you, but maybe you’re imagining it. Maybe it’s your mind playing tricks on you, concocting the magnetic pull that lingers between you, the thicker, heavier air, that urges you closer.

He sighs heavily, as if he was dreading this. All of a sudden composed, cool, icy Wonwoo is chewing his lip and avoiding your eyes, looking instead down where your fat gives way for his needy fingers.

“I, uh, I really like you, Y/n,” his voice shakes. “Would you. Maybe. Want to go out some time?”

At the last syllable his gaze locks on to yours, and you watch him visibly relax, because you’re fucking grinning.

Not maliciously, not crudely, not a dime or a dab of evil, only genuine joy.

“I-I would like that,” you control your smile, pointing your lips in the same way that Wonwoo does and blushing all over. Wonwoo grins too and it’s unbearably boyish.

“Okay,” he says, as if he can’t believe it. “Okay. Great.”

The window slams shut, the spell is undone by his hand, the dead defy their only law to bow to his necromancy. Wonwoo is alive and warm underneath you, and you are alive and warm on top of him, thighs pushed up against his and tugging at the fabric of his shirt. Your balloon of heart pops in your chest, and the bone-cage of your chest is filled with helium, that has you floating. Rosy and shiny, your heart beats at twice its normal speed.

There’s a lull in the conversation. It would’ve been a more comfortable silence, if you couldn’t see by how Wonwoo looks down and purses his lips, that he’s itching to say more.

Sparked by his confession, you confidently snake your hand up to tap his cheek lazily. He turns to you with a loafy smile. “What is it?”

He breathes out unsteadily.

“You’re-” he closes his eyes. “There’s so much I like about you. It- It makes me feel really bad that you weren’t feeling well, so I-”

He cringes at himself, one hand pushing away his glasses to rub the eyes underneath them.

“Can I make you feel better?” he asks vaguely.

You huff out a laugh. “Are you trying to ask if I want to have sex?”

He laughs too, behind his big hand. “No. It’s not the same, I want it to be about you!”

You laugh more, and Wonwoo’s face reappears as he lowers his hand. He looks up at you adoringly, dotingly. He’s smiling.

“I’m being serious,” he says quietly, when you finish. He seems less embarrassed now, more so smug. “I want to make you feel good.”

He’s paying an awful lot of attention to your hips, which he has not let up massaging and squeezing roughly.

“Can I..?” he begins, eyes fixed on your hips in his lap. “Can I make you cum?”

Then, slowly, Wonwoo lifts his hands and gently places them around on your face. His touch is always as soft as a hope-laced wind. He’s warm and he’s alive and he’s holding onto you, and you see it in his eyes: you’re real, you’re right underneath my fingertips.

“Please.”

That’s all he needs, before he presses his lips against yours.

The kiss is everything you want it to be; because it’s loving. It’s slow, it’s deep, it’s gentle, there’s no tongue, just the soft, warm, real, alive flows of his lips against your own. His hands on both of your cheeks caress your cheekbones gently, and warm air is spilled in the small space between you. He pulls away, panting.

“I don’t understand it,” he mumbles, before he’s pressing his lips back to yours hungrily. You let out a confused hum, and you have to gently push at his shoulder to back him off again. “What do you mean?” you ask.

“Why you were so alone,” he breathes, transfixed on your lips. “I want to be with you all the time.”

Before you can respond, Wonwoo grips the underside of your thighs, lifting you and himself from the chair and placing you on the desk. You gasp at the impact when the glass table meets your bottom, and Wonwoo is standing over you, suddenly so tall and so broad, and slimming at the waist. His narrow eyes become hooded behind the reflection of his glasses. His head is tilted down to meet yours.

“Can I take off your clothes, pretty?”

You don’t answer, only grip the edge of your shirt, tugging it over your head, so your bra-clad chest is exposed to him. He groans at the sight.

“You’re so beautiful,” he mumbles, nimble fingers dancing across your back to unclip the bra, sucking in a harsh breath the fabric becomes loose, sliding down your arms. “Such a pretty girl.”

“Stop,” you whisper, face warm and red. Your heart has never beat this way. It’s utterly unbearable and addicting at the same time, it’s without rhythm or class, it’s wild. And it’s because he’s looking at you and it’s not just lust. It’s adoration. There are deeper strings to the make-up of his eyes, there are lines connected to his heart, and he’s all flushed.

“What?” he asks. “I’m just telling you the truth.”

Wonwoo throws your bra on the floor next to him, hands finding the hem of your pants. “Can I take your pants off?”

You nod, still so shy and abashed, because Wonwoo’s eyes feel like a pink spotlight, and you are bathed in its warmth. He unbuttons your pants and you gently slide off the table to work them off your legs.

“Your panties are cute,” Wonwoo remarks (it should feel lewd, but he has a hand on your hip, that brushes the bone and he smiles at it). “Thank you,” you breathe, before you’re taking them off too.

Wonwoo doesn’t need to, but he still insists on gently lifting you back onto the table, and he kisses your nose when you’re sitting before him. He’s standing in between your legs, and then he’s looking down at where wetness drips onto the glass table.

His hand slides down your stomach, resting on the fat of it. He’s smiling, he’s so gorgeous, because he’s smiling the most gentle smile at how wet you are and how it leaks onto the table and his hand is so warm on your stomach, doing nothing, yet turning you on even more than you’d ever been before.

He sighs like he’s carrying the greatest burden on his broad back. “You’re so pretty,” he says, almost exasperated by it. He pinches some of the fat of your stomach between his fingers lovingly. “I can’t believe I get to have you like this.”

Then the hand on your stomach slides down further. His large, veiny hand cups your pussy, the tips of his fingers just barely teasing your hole. You whimper against him, hands finding his biceps for support. Wonwoo studies you, craning his neck down to peer at your face, while his fingers begin swaddling your folds.

“You’re so wet, baby,” he mumbles, trying to catch your eye where you bury into his chest. One finger dips into your hole, penetrating slowly and settling knuckle-deep.

“Wonnie!” you cry out, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Mmm, clenching down on Wonnie’s finger so hard. My beautiful girl.”

He begins pushing his finger in and out of you, pace slow and torturous. His other hand slides up and down your body, squeezing your waist then your thigh, then coming right back up to fondle your chest. He pushes your back flat against the glass, so you’re all splayed out for him and you watch him from there, eyes hooded and legs spread to accommodate him. He breathes in shakily at the sight of you.

“Shit, Y/n. What were you doing hiding all this from me?” His finger picks up the pace, as another finger slips in alongside it. You’re moaning and panting, lips red and hair mussed, unable to focus on his words, when his fingers curl against that spongy spot inside you. Apparently Wonwoo expects an answer though, because he speaks again, voice lower and rougher. “Hm? You didn’t want to go have lunch? What, was it that guy?”

“W-What?”

“Just some guy,” Wonwoo echoes your past words, emphasizing with a harsh thrust of his fingers.

“N-No, I- Hng!” you cry out, when Wonwoo’s thumb presses onto your clit. He rubs it torturously. “I-I was embarrassed because I- I was thinking about you!”

“Oh?” this catches Wonwoo’s attention, as he diligently works his hand within you, staring down at your naked form, fully clothed and tall. “Tell me what you were thinking about, baby.”

“This!” you cry out, too high off the pleasure to really feel embarrassed about it.

“Pretty, sweet, dumb baby. You were thinking about you whimpering and writhing while I fuck you with my hand, hm?”

“N-No,” you mumble, cheeks aflame. “W-Was thinking about you l-liking me.”

At this Wonwoo hastily leans over you, pressing his lips onto yours again, and this time his tongue pries open your mouth, wet and warm in the cavern of your mouth. You moan into the kiss, hips canting into his hand. There’s something so desperate about him then, something so eager in the way he crooks his fingers, and how he kisses you, panting and covering your face in warm air. You feel a tight knot in your stomach.

“Cum on my fingers, please, pretty, sweet, baby, darling,” he mumbles into your mouth, rushing out the words before he’s sealing your lips again.

“God, I think I might fall in love with you.”

That makes you cum. You cum so fucking hard, clenching around his fingers like an air-tight seal, and your cum spills onto his fingers and his name spills into his mouth. The curse comes out with it, escaping like the air that spills out from an ancient, rediscovered chamber, and dissipating into the night. Your heart is beating and you’re breathing into his mouth, nose brushing his.

“Good girl,” he breathes, finally releasing your lips and letting his lips fall heavy and wet on your cheek.

He pulls out his fingers, unbearably wet and slick, and you think for a second that he’ll let you calm down and then maybe he’ll put his dick in you, but as soon as the fingers are out of you, they’re settling back on to your clit, rubbing heavy-handed circles.

You whine, arching your back off the table and wiggling your hips at the overstimulation. His other hand catches your hip and he shushes your cries softly.

“You can cum again, can’t you, baby? You can take it,” he says, so nonchalantly, while his slick fingers rub you. You cry out. Your legs are shaking. “Think you can cum again from just this?”

“Y-Yes,” you sigh and when you look down, his entire hand covers your pussy, as he pets your clit in circles. He smiles at your words, pinching your clit teasingly. It causes a squeak to escape you, hips struggling against his hold, where he pins you to the table.

“Good girl,” he praises, purring. “Letting me use your pretty pussy like this, letting me make you feel good.”

His body in front of you prevents your legs from closing, but, God, do they try, knees pinching his thin waist, and hair bunching up on the glass when your face scrunches up in pleasure.

“A-a-ah!” you cry out. Your hips involuntarily begin to inch away from him, but Wonwoo pulls you back with one strong hand, tutting.

“Don’t do that,” he mutters, pouting. “You need to be touched, remember?”

The whole thing is so heart-achingly intimate. The way he stands, still fully clothed and with a huge fucking tent in his pants, simply rubbing your pussy and looking at you with heart-eyes. Seriously, eyes swimming with adoration for you, teasing words slipping from his mouth unable to mask the genuine wonder he feels, at how you gasp and you arch and you clean and you jerk from the simplest of his movements. And your pussy is so warm and wet under his hand, and his body between your legs is so warm, and you cum again from just that; from how much love he looks at you with, and from the fingers crooking to pinch your clit again, wet and swollen underneath his glistening fingertips.

“W-Wonwoo!” you cry out, cumming again, and your body convulses around his, when it oozes out of your hole. Wonwoo’s fingers gently work you through it. His gaze on you is so intent, so careful and insistent, you can’t bear it, the way he sees you totally lost in the pleasure he brings you.

“There you go,” he whispers gently, fingers letting up and disappearing from your pulsating pussy.

“Wonwoo,” you mewl tiredly, pushing yourself onto your elbows to look up at him. He looks at you, so sweetly, so attentively, hands immediately finding your back to stabilize you. “Can I please have your cock now?”

“We don’t have to-”

“I want to!” you interrupt him, brows furrowed and lips in a pout. Wonwoo grins at that and though he may deny it, you don’t miss the red that twinges his cheeks.

“It’s just if you were too tired..-”

“I’m not,” you say decidedly, and Wonwoo nods.

“Okay. C’mere then.”

You’re confused when Wonwoo sits back down in the office chair, fingers working his slacks open. He doesn’t answer to your grimace though, only manages his pants unzipped and in one lift of his hips, peel both them and his boxers down.

His cock springs free, and your confused grimace is replaced with one of awe. It’s pale and veiny, the head is red and thin, white liquid oozes from it, like melted candle wax. And it’s huge.

You’re too slow to mask your amazement, it seems, because when your eyes return to his face, he’s already looking at you, smiling smugly.

“Come ride me, baby.”

You don’t need to be told twice. You slide off the table eagerly, lumbering over to where he’s relaxed against the back of the chair. He looks up at you, all naked and pretty, with a grin.

The top buttons of his dress shirt are unbuttoned, but he must’ve given up halfway. Either way, the milky plates of his chest are exposed, shining gloriously in the warm office light, and he discards his glasses, face fully exposed to you. He’s beautiful, and you think to tell him.

“You’re beautiful,” you whisper, planting each leg around his, so you’re straddling him. Like your ritual, Wonwoo grips your middle and pulls you closer, but this time it’s even closer than normal. Your stomach meets his dick, all heavy and hot on your skin, and your breath hitches at the sensation.

“You’re beautiful,” he teases, looking up at you. You smile.

“Can I put it in?” you ask.

“As if the answer was ever gonna be no?”

You snort out a laugh, raising yourself by your thighs and gripping the base of his dick to steer him inside. He hisses at the feeling of your hand grappling with his impressive size, and he hisses once more when the head of his cock buries into your heat.

His hands on your waist anchor himself while you slowly sink down, until he’s so fully sheathed in you, you think the tip of his cock must be brushing your heart, because it feels like it’s swinging in your chest.

“You’re so big,” you whimper, clutching his broad shoulders, and scrunching the fabric on top of them.

“Don’t say shit like that, I’m gonna cum, babe,” he grits out, fingers bruising your waist. You mewl, clutching his shirt. Then you begin to bounce.

Your thighs flex on either side of him as you heave up and down his cock, the both of you gasping into each other, and clutching each other for stability.

“Shit,” he pants out, genuinely out of breath. “Fuck, you’re the loveliest girl in the world.”

You cry out, pressure already welling in your stomach and burying yourself in his neck like you’ve always done, and it’s so intimate and he’s warm, and, fuck, he wants you. You can feel it in his grip, in his cock, in his words; he wants you more than anything. The thought makes you wanna cum.

Wonwoo is not quiet at all. He grunts and whines and his words are strangled and garbled, but frequent, showering you in affection and praise, while you bounce eagerly on his huge cock.

“You’re so pretty, baby.”

“Your tits are so perfect, shit.”

“Pretty girl.”

“Loveliest, prettiest, sweetest girl, bouncing on my cock, fuck.”

Praises spill from his lips in purrs, one after another, and when you cum you can’t help but return it tenfold.

“Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonnie, fuck! Gonna- fucking cum, I think I’m- f-falling in love with you”

You and Wonwoo come alive. Cum spurts from his cock and into your pussy, and you both cry out, entangled and completing one another in the space where you meet.

And it’s true, falling in love with him is so easy. And falling in love with you is easy too, you realize, because the second he’s spilled his cum in you, he pulls you from his neck to kiss you so deeply, so thoroughly, you think your lips might never unpuff from his hasty, bitten kisses.

His cock, now soft, still inside you, his warm chest against yours, his nose nudging yours, his eyelashes fluttering against your skin, the kiss is totally perfect, and you’re warm, and the windows are all closed and fogged up and there’s no curse other than the most fatal and most perfectly tantalizing of them all: love.

You are not alone. You’re sitting in his lap and you think if you give it a day or two more, you might want to spend the rest of your life with him.

You catch your breaths.

“You’re really good at that,” you say finally. He grins again, perfectly undone, hair tousled and cheeks flushed. “Yeah?” he asks. You hum.

After some minutes of keeping him inside you, kissing lazily, running your hands over his pretty chest and arms, you pull back, beginning to flex your legs to pull him out of you.

“What are you doing?” he asks, hands wafting to still your movements. You furrow your brows, confused.

“Am getting your dick out of me?”

His hands sink down on your hips heavily, fully encompassing his dick again. You sigh at the feeling.

“Don’t do that, silly. You’re touch-starved, remember?”

He tilts his head teasingly.

“So why don’t you just sit snug on my cock, so you can get all the closeness you need?”

#jeon wonwoo x reader #smut #wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo smut #svt smut #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #svt angst #wonwoo angst #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x you

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hysteria-things · 2 months

Note

hello again !! i know you just posted my last request but i have another idea !

• SMUTTY PLSZ

• matt/chris x teacher!reader

So basically, chris/matt are in senior year or any year in college and he has a teacher(reader) who's quite young and closer to their age but is still older and knowing men, she's already very popular in their school y'know y'know?

ALSO if you're gonna make the other students be a big part of the story too or add more plot, pls don't make the girls of the school hate her. it just feels unrealistic since in our school, it's mostly the girls that simp for the hot female teacher lmao

This idea was based on their video "truth or eat" i think(i forget everything) where he was asked if he's ever had a crush on a teacher and he answered yes w no hesitation and also the song "Teacher's Pet" by Melanie Martinez but switched genders.

i just think the male being the teacher and the female being the student felt overused/overdone(?)

Only if you're comfortable w this idea tho !!

TEACHER'S PET (part one)

read part two here

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!matt x teacher!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: matt asks for extra help after class (even though he knows exactly what he’s doing)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUTTY, swearing, making out, oral (male receiving), throat fucking, p in v, unprotected sex (nuh uh!), degradation, cheating (cheat on tests, not people), hair pulling, spanking, breeding, ROUGH

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,236

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: shoutout any of you in college i dropped out after a month i give you guys so much credit that shit’s hard😔

for @skadltmf :)

matt and his college friends sit at the round table in the food court. they’re at the home stretch of senior year with the spring semester starting tomorrow.

“i got that hot professor for one of my morning classes.” one of his friends brags. “she’s so fine.”

“who?” matt asks, and the two sitting with him stare at him like he should know this.

“professor l/n.” the other one starts. “literally everybody is obsessed with her. she’s only twenty-five; three years older than us.”

“there’s no way she doesn’t let students fuck her to get a good grade.” they both laugh, but matt stays quiet. his friends are in their conversation about you while matt thinks to himself.

he has you for a class too but at 6 PM.

you stand at the front of the class, teaching like a normal teacher should. half of the class never pays attention, anyway, but you still have to do your job.

they may not know, but you listen. you listen to what they say about you, and to be honest it boosts your ego.

one student in particular actually pays attention and takes notes, like what he’s doing right now. you couldn’t help but stare at him from time to time, and he’ll already be staring at you when you do.

you’re grading papers on your desk as your students work independently for the last fifteen minutes of class. you feel a presence, and you look up to see him there, fiddling with his worksheet.

you smile at him. “hello, matt. do you need help with something?”

“kind of. will i be able to stay after class?”

your phone lights up, and he glances at the lock screen. it’s a photo of you, your husband, and your son. “of course you can.”

he nods, going back to his seat.

the last fifteen minutes went by in a breeze, and all of the students left. except for one, of course.

you stand up and go over to the whiteboard, grabbing a marker just in case you need to explain something. “so, matt. what is it that you needed help with?”

“this question,” he says, stepping closer to you and pointing at the paper. you look at it confused because he already answered it. flawlessly.

“matt.” you chuckle. “you’ve got the problem right and showed your work perfectly. are you sure that’s the right one?”

his cheeks flush as he grabs your face, kissing you passionately. you pull away from his hold, weirdly sad that you did.

this is a first. you know the rumors that go around saying that you fuck students for an A+ but it’s not true. hell, you’ll lose your job.

he doesn’t say anything. he just stares at you, and you stare back. what you did next was a completely new person.

you go back in, his tongue inserting your mouth and swirling inside. this is so fucking wrong, but it feels so… right?

whining into the kiss, you move your hands down to his belt to unbuckle it. he chuckles, pulling away and pushing your head so you get on your knees.

he takes off his undergarments, revealing his—

your eyes widen. oh, god.

his red tip slides against your lips before you open, pushing himself into your wet mouth. “fuck.” he whispers.

grabbing onto your hair, he guides your head up and down his cock. he groans, leaning over and rutting his hips further into your mouth. your gagging fills the empty classroom, and spit starts to spill from your mouth.

it clicks in your head what you’re doing. you have a husband and child at home, for christ’s sake. you place your hands on his thighs and try to push your head back, but his grip is far too strong.

he slowly pulls out to watch his dick move past your lips, and slams back in. “take it, sweetheart. just like that.”

you keep gagging around him, your eyes becoming glassy as your mascara starts to smudge.

your lashes flutter each time he thrusts to the back of your throat before he stops. “s-shit.” he whimpers, but he doesn’t want to cum just yet. he closes his eyes to ignore the throbbing, pulling out of your sweet mouth. you cough, your lips swollen.

“bend over for me, yeah?” he smirks when you scramble to your feet. he grabs your waist, pushing your back so your stomach lays flat on your desk.

he lifts your skirt, moving your soaked underwear to the side. he wraps a finger around them and lets go, the elastic snapping against your core. you yelp at the sudden pain.

“such a slut.” he groans, inserting his tip into your folds but staying still. “letting one of your students shove his dick down your throat.”

he moves his tip out, but then puts it back in, thrusting it in and out teasingly. “bet you were thinking about this the whole lecture. i saw the way you were looking at me.”

you pathetically whine and nod. then, he grabs your hair so the upper half of your body is lifted from the wood. your hips dig into the edge of the desk as he starts entering you.

the stretch hurts, but it feels too good. your eyes flutter back, but a hand landing on your ass gets you out of your trance. he chuckles, taking the hand that’s not on your head and covering your mouth with it. “don’t be too loud, baby. don’t want the people outside that door knowing what a whore you are for me.”

he slides in deeper, a moan leaving your lips that’s muffled by his hand. he starts rutting his hips, going faster when you fit around him. “m-matt.” you gasp.

“so fucking tight around my cock.” he breathes out. your pleasurable cries and squelching of your pussy fill the room, along with his thighs slapping against your ass.

he removes his hand from your mouth, honestly forgetting that there are probably people around. all he’s focused on is pounding the daylights out of you. his teacher, mind you.

you grip the desk for support, moaning louder than any other time when his tip starts brushing against your cervix. “holy— shit.” you hoarsely scream, squeezing your eyes shut.

he lets go of your hair, your head immediately falling between your shoulders. “i’m gonna cum!” you warn, whimpering when he moves more mercilessly. both your thoughts and guts are getting scrambled at once.

“i wonder how disappointed your husband will be if he saw you like this.” he grunts and thrusts a few more times before continuing. “clenching around my dick, so badly wanting my cum inside you.”

you moan at his words. he feels so fucking good. you hate to admit it, but this is the best sex you’ve had in years.

“want me to fuck my baby inside you, you filthy whore?”

“y-yes, please,” you whine, repeating yourself over and over again.

you cum around him at the same time he stops deep, spreading your legs wider to finish inside. you moan one last time before becoming a rag doll, the bruises forming on your hips from them banging against the desk.

he moves your underwear back over your freshly bred pussy, kissing your shoulder and neck before whispering into your ear. “i’ll let you know when i need help again, professor l/n.”

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @idkhowtosleep @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog

#matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic #✎ ⤾ haleigh’s requests!

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opalici0us · 3 months

Text

Closer to You | Satoru Gojo

| pairings- Gojo x fem!reader

synopsis- When your ex-boyfriend just can't seem to leave you alone

content- 18+ MNDI, SMUT, porn with some plot, p in v sex, unprotected sex, oral(f!receiving), breeding kinda (Gojo cums inside), angst (tinybit!), praise, swearing, Gojo is a little cocky, toxic relationship

wc- 1.5k

"Push and pull again to get closer..."

Gojo broke up with you two months ago and during these two months, every time you finally felt like you were moving on he’d show up, right outside your apartment door. Using his sweet words to lure you in. Gojo always knew how to make you crumble for him. You could never tell if he really did miss you and was still in love with you or just horny and you were the easiest girl he could get. He’d always love you when you were barely holding onto him.

Tonight wasn’t any different. It was a quarter till one in the morning. There was a knock on your door, and reluctantly you went to check, already having an idea who it was. Checking through the peephole, you see Gojo and his bright blue eyes staring back at you. You sigh heavily and open the door. His eyes wandered your body, taking note you’re wearing one of his old t-shirts. You noticed this, clearing your throat to change his line of attention off your body.

“Satoru, you need to stop coming here.” You said, your voice coming out in a weak quiver.

“I know…I just miss you, is that alright?” He raised his hand to push a single strand of hair behind your ear, “Couldn’t stop thinking about you.” Gojo traced your jawline with his fingers down to your neck and snaked his hand to the nape, lightly massaging it.

And that's all he had to say before your nails were digging into the sheets, tears spilling from your eyes, and his head buried in between your thighs.

His tongue was teasingly lapping circles around your little bud, his large hand pushing your thighs apart.“F-fuck Toru! Stop teasing,” You whined and subconsciously pressed your cunt up onto his face.

“So needy for me,” Gojo chuckled. “Stop teasing,” he mimicked your whining. Before you could reply with something snarky he harshly sucked your clit, his tongue lapping up and down, going from flicking your little nub to digging his tongue into your little hole. He took two fingers to spread your folds to give him better access to assault your clit. He took it into his mouth, vigorously sucking on it, shaking his head back and forth.

“Shittt, slow down. I-I’m gonna cum.” You whined and clenched your thighs around his head, your fingers releasing the sheets to tug on his white locks. Loud muffled groans escape from his throat as he eats you, drunk on your taste.

“Then cum, do it, baby. Give it to me,” He slipped two fingers inside of you, curling into your g-spot “Make a mess on my fingers Y/N.” He latched back onto your clit, flicking it vigorously with his tongue. “Oh m-my goddd” You elongated, the pleasure was so intense. You felt your orgasm build up, leaving your body shaking in anticipation. “G-gonna cum Toru” You choked out.

“Mmmm yeah? Then just fucking come Y/N.” Gojo cooed. He went from sucking to flicking it, and back again. Your hips bucked up as his finger repeatedly hit your g-spot. You blurted out ‘Oh my gods’ and ‘So good Toru’, you felt your legs shake with pleasure as your walls pulsated around his long fingers.

“Fuck you’re so fuckin’ tight around my fingers,” Gojo teased you, his cock twitched at the feeling, and he brought his hand down to palm himself over his sweats to bring some relief because of how painfully hard he was. “Bet you’re wishin’ it was my cock instead,” he was also so vulgar, and you loved it.

He chuckled feeling your cunt squeeze his finger even tighter, he pulled them out making you whimper. “Awww don’t be sad, gonna fuck you real good, yeah?” Gojo licked his fingers clean before sliding his sweatpants down, along with his boxers. Gojo’s massive length springs free, slapping against his toned stomach, making him groan. He slid his tip up and down your folds.

“J-just give it to me Toru.” You whined

“Getting impatient, huh?” He laughed “Your little hole is clenching around nothing, bet you’re real desperate to get my dick wet, aren’t ya?” He teased your hole with his angry tip. “I think you should beg for it, what do you think?”

You rolled your eyes at him, but of course, you gave in. “Please Toru, wanna feel you deep, need to feel it, been such a good girl.” You whined for him.

A smug look etched onto his face, “Yeah, you have been such a good girl, haven’t you, might just give you what you want.” He lifted your legs and placed each on his shoulders, he slowly stuck his tip into your warmth, making your eyes roll back.

“Fuuckk, you’re s’tight” Gojo sucked the air between his teeth, clenching his jaw. Your eyes rolled back into your head feeling him fully push himself inside you, making you squeal.

“Feels s’ full,” You whimpered out. “Missed this, missed you.” You mumbled out. Gojo pressed your knees to your chest, he fully pulled himself out before slamming back in creating a loud squelch, “Oh fuck!” You squealed. He smirked repeating the action, his balls slapping against you. “Mhm oh my goddd Toru!” You dug your nails into his shoulders, looking down to see where you two were connected.

He moved his hips in slow circular motion before thrusting roughly inside you, “J-just like that Toru, you’re so deep” You moved your hands to hold onto the back of your thighs allowing him to go deeper. He brought his hand down to your stomach to feel himself move inside you, making your walls squeeze around his cock.

“F-fuck! Pussy trying to milk me dry ahaha,” He tipped his back, showing how his adams apple bobbed up and down, before looking back down at your fucked out face. “You’re so hot.” He groaned.

He pulled out again, thrusting back in, hitting your g spot just right with his cockhead. “R-right fuckin’ there Toru, shiittt!” You babbled out feeling him thrust into your sensitive spot over and over again.

“You wanna cum?” Gojo said and brought his hand to rub circles on your clit, making you go dumb.

“Y-yes Toru, so close. M-make me cum on your cock.” You whined.

“If you insist, wanna fuck you real good.” With no warning he flipped you onto your hands and knees, pushing your head down into the mattress, hitting you deeper than before. “T-toru too deep fu–goddd!” He snaked his hand around to rub circles around your clit, making your whole body go limp. “Ha, always go dumb f’me, oh fuckkk.” He takes his hand off your hip to tangle his fingers into your hair, pulling you back into a harsh arch, your hands squeezing your breasts, stimulating your nipples. “Kiss me, baby, yeah?” Gojo slid his tongue into your mouth, sloppily kissing you.

“I’m” kiss “s-so” kiss “close.” You said muffled between kisses, he sucked on your tongue before pulling away with a string of spit. Your walls pulsated around him, feeling your orgasm near.

“Shhitt squeezin' me so tight, good fuckin’ girl.” He bit down on your bottom lip momentarily. “Want me to cum inside, hmm? Fill you up?” Your gummy walls involuntarily squeeze around him after hearing his vulgar words. “Fuck yeah! You like that aha, feel the way you squeezin’ me tight when I say that.” He picks up the pace of his thrusts and his fingers on your clit.

“Shhhit yes yes, gonna c-cum Satoru!” You whimpered out, your mouth falling into an ‘o’ as your orgasm washes over you.

“Good girl, good fuckin’ girl, m’ gonna cum, fill you up. Just how you like it.” His thrusts turned sloppy as he fucks his seed into you. He released his tight grip on you, you landed on your face while your ass remained up in the air. You moaned in satisfaction feeling his hot release drip down you as he pulled out. He brought his fingers up to catch it and shove it back in, making you squirm. “You’re always so good.” Gojo laughed and moved to lay beside you.

You lay beside one another, not saying anything, just staring into each other's eyes. You tried to figure out the look on his face. Satisfaction? Regret? Love? With Gojo, it was always hard telling. You sigh knowing it's probably to just tell him to leave, like you always do. “Satoru you sho-” he cuts you off

“I love you.” He spoke in a soft tone, those blue eyes piercing your heart.

You bite your bottom lip. Unsure what to do now. You stare at each other again for a few more seconds before Gojo breaks the silence. “I’m sorry, I should go.” He said and crawled out of the bed, not looking back at you.

“Yeah…you should.” You said quietly and watched as he got dressed. Before he walked out of your room, he looked back at you one last time, knowing he’d probably never see you again. He gave you a small nod and finally walked out, not wanting you to see the tears that were brimming in his eyes.

You sighed and rolled over onto your back. You made a mental note to pick up a plan b tomorrow morning. You blocked him on everything shortly after, hopefully putting an end to this cycle.

"We're not meant to blend in..."

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diorchids · 4 months

Text

play date

warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, no use of y/n, f!reader, making out, swearing, fingering, oral ( m&f receiving ), finger sucking, unprotected p in v, sub&dom!sejanus ( squint ), obsessed!sejanus, praise kink

a/n: this took too long ?? first fic on here so lmk ur thoughts

mature content ahead!

sejanus seems so innocent. his nerdy nature, eagerness to learn, the way he never hangs out after classes. “he stays to himself, a lot,” coriolanus mutters following you asking about sejanus’ personal life. his brown eyes gaze up at the unprovoked mention of his name.

standing from his desk, he waltzes over to you and coryo, “why wouldn’t i stay to myself? you expect me to trust them?” sejanus points to arachne and her groupies. you smile, making him grin after looking back at you and coryo.

dean highbottom makes himself known, clearing his throat. you crane your neck to glance over to sejanus, but his eyes are already on you.

the brief eye contact made you immediately sit back in your designated seat while highbottom asks everyone to partner up for a project, coming up with ideas for the games to come.

trudging your way through the dense population of your peers, looking for clemensia. you’d assumed corio was working with sejanus.

“looks like you’re also in need of a partner,” the tall boy towers over you, his curls bouncing as he tilts his head downward. his eyes narrow on yours, expecting a sad rejection, he squeezes his hands together.

“i guess i am, projects must not be for snow,” he’d left. long gone under the guise of a bathroom break.

sejanus clears his throat, “be mine, then, please,” his throat is jammed with saliva, his tongue gliding around the tips of his teeth. but you oblige, biting the inside of your cheek. “my parents aren't home, just in case you wanted to start there,” he clarified, making sure you knew he was talking about school.

you chuckle at his tense demeanor. “does this house have an address?” sejanus laughs, he’s less on edge, all because of you.

he gets home with the piece of paper with your number on it, brushing over it with his clammy hands. his palms instinctively rub against his clothed dick, making him whine at the pain that needed taking care of. you knew what you were doing.

making him so needy, having him practically beg for your attention. sweaty hands trail up to the phone to dial your number, he hesitates to dial the last digit.

“hello?” your voice raises goosebumps on his skin. he's silent, a lump getting caught in his throat. “sejanus? from class? is the play date ready?”

you sit up on your bed, awaiting his answer. “yeah, s’ready,” his smile could be heard through the phone.

“i’ll be there in, like, 10.” before he could answer, you hung up.

knocks on the door accompany the sounds of lucky flickerman speaking on tv. the door handle shakes after sejanus forgets to unlock it. “one second–! fuckin’ doorknob,” the door opening to his smile, eyebrows anxious and twitching.

“we can head to my room if you want,” he makes it clear he only wants to do the project, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

following him upstairs, you notice how nice his house is, putting yours to complete shame. his room has posters, quotes, and pictures of his family. “let's just start now, with brainstorming.”

his eyes flick back and forth from your face and your bra rubbing against your shirt. you draw diagrams of threats that could be implemented into the games, the only driving force is the thought of being a mentor.

your back aches from sitting in the chair for too long, the desk lamp straining both of your eyes. you rose from the desk, making sejanus slightly frown, being farther away from you.

you fall straight back onto his bed, a slight moan escaping your lips. a quiet groan leaves him, his eyebrows furrowing while looking at your pillowy lips.

he fidgets with his hands, trying so hard to not palm his cock while you’re right there, “l’me touch you — please,” he groans out, desperately. this was something guttural, something begging to leave his mouth.

his words fall slowly out it. they take you by surprise, his desperation for you, his whiny voice. his legs go into what feels like autopilot as he walks towards you, so hungry.

“i’ll be so good, so, so good,” his leg between yours, you sitting up, being met with his face. his warm breath against your cheeks makes your breath hitch.

fingers cradle your jaw as his thumb draws circles on your chin, “talk t’ me.” you nod as your eyes analyze his face, taking in every ounce of his words, “whatever you want, do whatever you want,” pulling your waist to his leg, rocking yourself against him.

your wet lips smashing into his, your mouth being searched every inch by his warm tongue. his hands travel all over you, gripping your thighs and your neck. (softly, of course.)

“knees, now, please,” his words leave a mark on your cheek. so soft and yet so demanding. but you comply while sej unbuckles his belt, licking his top lip. seeing you on your knees, so helpless, so nasty.

he pulls his cock out of his boxers, and it slaps his stomach, he’s so achingly hard and big. his pants are discarded onto the floor, you both know they won’t be needed.

sucking air in through his teeth when you prod at his red, leaking tip. head tilting to the side with desperate eyes, eyebrows furrowing when you kiss his tip, he pulls his shirt off. his dick is huge next to your face, you run your finger up a vein, making him shudder.

“mmmf — f- fuck,” he babbles while pulling your hair into his fist, bucking his hips into your warm mouth. “m’ sorry,” eyes roll to the back of his head, his lips swollen from being abused by his teeth.

his bed squeaks as he flops down on his bed to sit, still pulling your mouth onto his dick. cock twitching in your mouth as you squeeze his soft but toned thighs, earning a groan and tug on your hair. “you see what you’re doin’ t’ me? m’ like an animal for you,” eyebrows truly showing how he feels about you. your hands wrap around his cock while you jerk it and suck his swollen, abused tip.

“show me how much you love me, sejanus,” keeping eye contact no brick could break, his cock twitches while you take him all in your mouth one last time. his hand finds its way to your breasts, caressing and squeezing them.

warm spurts of cum coating the back of your throat, his big hands grip your hair, bucking his hips into your mouth. groans and moans fill the room as you look up at him, with those eyes.

his cock twitching against your chin, his face flushed while brushing your hair to the side, “that was s– so good, s’ good,” wet lips quivering from your nails digging into thighs. “felt good?” you say, breathlessly, sejanus nodding immediately, face red and hairs starting to stick to his head.

he helps you to your feet before guiding you toward his bed. rough, big hands lay you down before trailing down to the end of the bed. he looks at you, examining your face attentively before gripping your ankles and dragging you to him.

“let's get this off, ‘kay?” he tugs the end of your shirt, you nodding while pulling the shirt over your head, your lace bra making sejanus groan at the sight of you, so, so beautiful.

he crawls to you, wrapping arms around your chest, undoing your bra, chests rubbing against each other. your bra falls as he watches in awe. sejanus rises and moves to the end of the bed, eyes lidded, once again hungry. tapping your ankle, silently telling you to open your legs, analyzing your wet cunt being soaked through your panties.

“so wet, all for me?” you nod quickly. his thumb presses against your needy clit, making you shiver and instinctively close your legs on his head. “m’ sorry, keep goin’,” grabbing a pillow to cover your mouth, to muffle the moans to come.

“no, wanna hear you,” his arm flexes as he grabs the pillow and pushes your hips up to make space for it.

his fingers hook onto the hem of your panties, pulling them off of your legs, exposing your bare cunt. he ruts himself against his bed as he groans hot breaths right into your clit. fingers glide across your slit, moving up to your clit, earning moans from you and your puffy lips. his tongue licks a stripe onto your cunt before latching onto your swollen clit.

long fingers traveling up to your mouth, and without a word you start to suck and swirl his fingers around in your mouth before him abruptly slipping them out and into your cunt.

lips detach from your clit to speak, “ah, takin’ it so well, baby. talk t’ me, please,” you nod before he curls his fingers up, hitting that sensitive spongy spot. “words, please,” he begs, gripping your thigh with his free hand, squeezing fat.

“love it, love your fingers in me s’ much.” groans fill your pussy as he goes faster, sucking your puffy clit, fingers going in and out. the coil in your stomach tightens with every sloppy thrust.

rabid moans leave your throat as you buck your hips up into his face, him holding your hips down with his hand. the bed slightly moving back and forth from his hips rutting against the edge, “so wet. so fuckin’ sweet,” his muffled words praising your cunt. your hips stutter on his chin and he thrusts mercilessly, in and out.

the fire in the pit of your stomach igniting as you cum all over his face and bed, cum pooling at your ass. his tongue swirling over your clit makes your eyes roll back earning a back arch off of the pillow. “fuck, i’m cummin’, you feel so good in me, love you so much, baby,” you exclaim while writhing under his spell.

his hips hump pathetically against his bed until he hears your words, your praise. his cum coating his boxers in hot, white seed.

“nngmf,” his head falls straight onto your clit. your hands finding his curls, soft moans filling the room. his seed dripping down his leg onto his carpet, leaving a stain, a memory.

“gonna cum in you now, let you have all of it,” crawling up the bed, smashing his cum washed lips onto yours. “can i fuck you, please?” you nod while he pulls his cock out of his wet boxers and lines it up with your entrance, “s’ take it all,” before smashing his hips in and out of your spoiled cunt. lips abusing your needier ones, he couldn’t wait, he couldn’t wait to be inside of you, soaked in your juices.

his hips don’t stop from slamming your cervix in, ripping painful but pleasurable moans from deep down. his flexed arms hold your knees to your shoulders, taking complete control of your body. “you feel so fuckin’ amazin’. better than i ever imagined. so – so warm for my cock, so fuckin’ tight,” you moan while gripping his hair in response, nodding so eagerly, wanting and needing more of his dick.

drool falling from the corners of your mouth, so fucked out, so dumb for his cock, the cock thats bruising up your cervix.

“like you were made for me, fittin’ me all up in here, fuck, gonna empty my balls all up in y– agh,” his balls slap your slit as you both chase the high. the delicious high, the rewarding high.

your pussy squeezes his cock so beautifully, so perfectly. “g’ cum, f’ so good in me,” your whisper, egging him on. he grips your thighs so tightly, threatening to cum all up in you. “you wanna cum? go ahead,” his eyes on yours, “cum all on me, all over me, please, ” his hips thrust violently into you, animalistically.

your eyes dart to your pussy, taking all of him, swallowing his cock so well. him digging his nails into your plush thighs, thrusts becoming sloppy. he pushes down on your stomach to feel himself making you feel so good. your cunt starts to flutter, while the coils tighten again, threatening to snap. “grippin’ me so good, like a fuckin’ vice,” he’s panting into your ear.

“m’ cumming, sejanus, all f’ you,” you reach climax, cum piling at the base of his cock as your back arches, pleasure coursing through you as the juices fall onto the bed under you.

he doesn’t pull out of you, though, instead chasing his high. “you did so good, thank you, thank you s’ much,” he groans out to you, still bruising your cervix. you can’t even respond, being so fucked out from his thick cock stretching you out so good.

cock twitching, he speeds up while gripping your ass, slamming your walls into him. hips stuttering while his warm cum coats the entirety of your cunt, inside and out. he rides his high out, though he pulls out eventually. just to replace it with his thick, long finger.

“love you, love y’ so much,” his bruised lips abusing yours.

he shuffles awkwardly to his bathroom to get you a warm towel, pulling the warm blanket over your bodies.

i see very few fics of him like he isnt so fine, but i must speak my truth!!!!

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runningfrom2am · 4 months

Text

leveling the playing field XVI

summary: you can finally go home.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.4k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows (we do.). implications and mentions of abuse and some non-graphic violence, so read with caution!! also a little bit of swearing but that's neither here nor there. oh, and manipulation.

a/n: i can't believe this is it :') the final part (excluding the epilogue which is coming v soon). thank you all so so so much for all the love on this fic! it means so much to me that you guys enjoyed it! but don't get too sad (like me) bc i am not ready to let them go so i'll probably do like blurbs and stuff ab this series so stick around for those!

series masterlist // playlist

"Y/N/N. Do you have your clothes from home?" Coryo asks, pulling the boat back up onto the shore. The guns were gone. He's free to go home if he wants.

"Yes." You nod. "I couldn't get rid of them if I wanted." You chuckle, looking up into the woods behind the cabin, hoping Sejanus is long gone by now.

"Okay. You're gonna stay here, just for a few days, and then I'll come get you before the train leaves. I'll take you to Two with me, just wear those. You'll fit in better."

"Okay..." You nod, nervous about being out here all alone for so long.

"I'll come bring you food as much as I can." He knew it would be a long hike each way to come see you, but he would have to carve out the time. He looks up at you quickly from digging through his own bag when he hears you sniffle. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"I- uhm..." You clear your throat, fanning your eyes to keep any tears from falling. "I'm just scared." You try and laugh it off, shaking your head slightly.

"Don't be scared." Coryo shakes his head, dropping the bag to grab your shoulders. "Hey, you're gonna be okay, Darling, but we don't have another choice. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"I know, I know that..." You sniff, looking up at him. "Is she dead?"

"Yes." He answers quickly. "I buried her. She can't hurt you." He promises. Was that true? No, definitely not. There was no trace of her after the shot besides her earring on the ground, but he had hit her. He was sure of it. There was no reason to tell you that, though, just to scare you more. You couldn't go back to town, there was nowhere for you to hide while peacekeepers searched every inch of the populated part of the District for days while he waited for his train.

"Okay." You whisper, taking a deep, shakey breath as you look around at the suddenly scary forested area around you. The rain had started to clear up, which helped with the sun peeking through the clouds to brighten up the lake. If Lucy Gray hadn't ruined everything, you would probably be getting ready to keep moving.

"Just, try to relax out here. Okay? Go for a swim, just enjoy the fresh air." He smiles softly, brushing some hair back out of your face as he tries to make you feel better.

"I've had enough of the woods for the rest of my life." You scoff, shaking your head under his hold.

"I know, Y/N/N, I'm sorry. It's only a few days. Like I said, I'll come back for you whenever I'm free." Even if he could only stay for five minutes before he had to turn around and make the trip back to town, he would do it. "Then we'll figure everything out. I'll handle it."

"I... I just want to go home, but I can't." You cry, letting him wipe your tears as your chest flushes with the emotion.

Coryo winces at your tears. He hates seeing you cry, and he has seen it far more times than he would have liked to in the last few months. "I'm going to figure it out. I'm not going to let anyone hurt you ever again. I promise." He says softly, trying to get you to look at him.

You lean into his palm, closing your eyes as you try desperately to pull it together. You were exhausted, but this was the last thing Coryo needed right now. "I'm sorry. I'm just having a moment."

"I know. You're okay." He chuckles, planting a kiss on your forehead and pulling you into a hug, rocking your body gently back and forth. "You know, I think the last time you said that to me was the day I realized I was in love with you." He hums, squeezing your shoulders gently.

You laugh, which makes him smile. It's what he wanted. "I feel like that's a bit dramatic."

"No, it's true." He grins, craning his neck to look down at you. "You defended me, and you listened to me, and you looked just so pretty doing it..."

You bury your face in his shirt to hide your blush.

"You're always on my team, and I appreciate that. I really do." He explains, satisfied that he's made you feel at least a little better. "I hope you know I'm always on your side, too."

You nod slightly, smiling through your tears as you look up at him. "I know."

"Good." Coryo whispers, kissing your nose. "I love you."

"Really?" You whisper, eyes lighting up as you wring your hands together against his chest in front of you. "You're not just saying that because I'm crying on you?" You laugh slightly.

"No, I do." He nods in confirmation, grinning down at you in admiration. "There's no one else in this world I can trust as much as I can trust you."

"Then why'd you give her your scarf?" You ask, tilting your head. "It looked... valuable."

"It was. It belonged to my mother..." He says solemnly. He suddenly shakes his head, mocking your expression as he changes the tone. "You really were dead to the world, huh? I was holding it, and she just asked if she could see it. Then she didn't give it back." Coryo explains, raising an eyebrow at you. "Why, are you jealous of the dead girl?"

You roll your eyes with a smile on your face, attempting to shove him away.

"Hey, I'm kidding." He laughs, pulling you close again by your wrists. "Don't you trust me?"

"Okay, yes, I trust you." You giggle as he drops your wrists, sliding his hands over your waist.

"And you love me?" Coryo asks, urging you on.

"And I love you." You grin, nodding slightly.

"That's my girl..." He hums, running a hand lower down your side, thumb running over your midsection as he leans in to kiss you. He had you right where he wanted you, he'd wanted to say that for ages. Only since he even clued into the fact that the buzz he gets under his skin when he catches you smiling, anyway. Realistically, you were something he had always wanted. Picturing his future over the last few years when he was dragging himself out of bed every morning desperate to arrive to class on time even on an empty stomach, his daydreams of his success always included your own, as well.

Now, it was only the two of you. He was so right about you, you were perfect in every way. Smart, obedient to him and only to him, but you fought for what you wanted. You knew struggle, pressure, and soul crushing expectations in the same way he did. Through all of it, you were there for him. You were beautiful- and he was the only one smart enough to see past your occasional outbursts. No one knew how to navigate you like he did, and he was lucky that few people ever bothered to try.

The most beautiful girl in all of the Capitol, and you were his. He meant it when he said that he would never let anyone hurt you. He couldn't let anyone take you from him.

"Do you know where we're going? Where Tigris and your Grandma'am are living?" You whisper, curled up next to Coryo on the train as it pulls into the Capitol station. You're holding the orange silk scarf in your hands, using it as a small blanket in the cold train car. You had spent most of your time out by the lake trying to clean it- but dirt was a stubborn stain. You'd have to be more thorough once you had access to cleaning supplies again. You couldn't let such a lovely piece of clothing go to waste, especially when it was so valuable to him.

"I don't..." Coryo mumbles in response, staring out the window as you lean your head against his shoulder, knees tucked up to your chest. "They shouldn't be hard to find, though."

The wheels screech to a slow stop in the familiar city, and you can't help but smile at the endless sea of grey architecture. It wasn't anything like the forest in Twelve, and you loved it. The door slides open and some peacekeepers enter, drawing both of your attention as you sit up away from him.

"Dr. Gaul is expecting you both in her lab immediately." One of them informs you, and you nod a little bit, looking nervously over at your boyfriend.

You hung off his arm for the entire car ride and all the way to the lab as you're escorted by the men in the matching uniform to his own. Your clothes were dirty, despite how many times you cleaned them back in District Twelve. You had cleaned them obsessively throughout the last couple of months, but the water was never quite clear enough to be helpful. It was vile. Surely you smell unpleasant due to this, and you were hoping you would have a shower before confronting anyone from your previous life, but clearly, you weren't so lucky.

"Do I stink?" You whisper, trying to avoid the echo of the large room as your heels click across the linoleum flooring.

"Not any more than I do." Coryo answers, a small smile pulling on his lips as he glances down at you.

You giggle, gently slapping his chest as he removes his hat.

"Congratulations, Mister Snow, Miss Y/L/N. You've passed all my tests." You look up at Dr. Gaul for the first time as she speaks to you, tossing something into a pool on her floor. "I've asked President Ravenstill to grant you both a full pardon, effective immediately."

You don't say anything as you both stop in front of the tank in the ground, staring into it as Coryo revels in the shock. "I also told him that you are too promising to be wasted in the Districts. So you will be studying under me at the Capitol University."

While she speaks, you pull Tigris's coat tighter around yourself at the slimy, vicious look of whatever creatures are splashing around inside that tank that she is continuously feeding.

"We can't afford university." Coryo answers on your behalf, forcing you to look up at the woman across from you. While you were incredibly grateful, you were scared. Things were complicated back at your parents' home, and even with a legal form of forgiveness, it's not likely your father will see it the same way. You couldn't go back, and he wasn't likely to give you a dime or let you go free. Within the week, you'd probably die from an "unknown illness" contracted in the Districts if he found out you were home.

"A certain Mister Strabo Plinth has offered to pay for everything you need while you're there. All for being such good friends to his Sejanus." Dr. Gaul explains and your heart drops in your chest. You can't help but wonder if he's even still alive out there, in the North. "He doesn't know quite how good a friend you were, of course. I never mentioned your little recording. Quite impressive, Mister Snow, how you sent your only friend to the grave just to get my attention."

"That's not what I did." Coryo shakes his head at the allegation.

He squeezes your arm in warning, knowing this topic was a fine line to walk. "Are you sure? Because I think that won you the Plinth Prize, after all."

"Sejanus Plinth is not dead." You blurt out without thinking. She tilts her head at you, looking at you intensely, a knowing smile growing on her lips.

"Oh?" She asks, and internally you struggle for a saving grace while Coryo furrows his brow at you. You hadn't seen Sejanus since you sent him away, but you did try looking for him in your days out there alone. You had to believe he was alive, after you gave him his way out.

"Well, I heard that he had escaped in Twelve. As far as I know, they never found a body. He planned on running off anyway. That's likely what he did." You explain, clearing your throat.

"I agree. That is likely, but the odds he would survive out there..." She shakes her head slightly, dropping another treat into the tank as the creatures snap at it. "Anyway, the president has agreed to another year of the games! People watched, and I have you kids to thank for that."

You and Coryo wear matching grins now, posture perfect to match your collective pride.

"But before I take you under my wing, after everything you've seen out there in the real world, let me ask you one final time." Dr. Gaul says, looking pointedly between the two of you. "What are the Hunger Games for?"

You look up at your boyfriend, nodding for him to answer. "I used to think that the Hunger Games were a punishment for the districts. Then, I thought they served as a warning to us here in the capitol, about the threat the districts posed. Now I know the whole world is an arena. And we need the Hunger Games every year to remind us all who we truly are."

"And who are you, do you determine?" Coryo looks down at you as she speaks.

"We are the Victors." You finish with a proud smile, looking at the woman across from you who seems more than pleased with your answer.

"Coriolanus, what are you doing back so soon?" Your mom greets him as she opens the door of your childhood home, smiling sadly, confused as to the condition of his return.

"Good afternoon, Ma'am." He smiles politely, grey uniform cap now clutched to his chest. "I proved to be exceptional in my training. Dr. Gaul saw it was better Y/N and I work under her at the University."

"Y/N?" Your mom gasps, reaching up to cover her mouth with her hand. "She's alive?"

"I assure you, she is safe." Coriolanus nods. "Now, may I speak with your husband? I won't take up much of his time." He brushes past her, entering the home without waiting for permission.

"Well, dear, where is she?" Your mom asks, letting him pass and closing the door quickly. "Why hasn't she come home?"

"I think you know why she hasn't come here." He hums, looking around. "Where is he?"

"His study." Your mom answers quietly, gesturing up the stairs. "I'll walk you."

"No need. I know where I'm going." He gives her a small smile in return, following the familiar path toward your room.

He stops in front of your father's study, knocking before taking a step back. The force of habit leads him to stand at attention while he waits for permission to enter.

"I'm busy, don't bother me." Your father's voice echoes through the ornate lining on the door. Then he realizes, he doesn't need permission. Not anymore.

Coriolanus huffs, opening the door and stepping in.

"I said-" Your father growls, slamming his pen down on the desk before he looks up and takes in the grey of Coriolanus's decorated peacekeeper uniform. "Coriolanus."

"Sir." He nods in response, closing the door quietly behind himself. "May I sit?" He asks coldly, gesturing to the chair across from him.

"Please." Your father nods, brow furrowed as to what the blonde boy could possibly want, or what he is doing back so soon.

"Y/N isn't here, son." Your father sighs. "She-"

"I know that." Coriolanus interrupts, placing his hat on the desk between them.

"You know where she is." Your father's tone is unsurprised, but questioning.

"I do." He confirms, back straight in the chair. He had always been afraid of your father, but this was built on an admiration. He reminded him of what little he remembered about his own father. This morphed into anger slowly but surely over the last few years, picking up several hints either in your appearance, demeanor, or choice of words which painted an incredibly unflattering picture of who the man sitting in front of him truly was.

Your dad hums in response, eyes locked on the boy. "How was your summer?"

The question catches Coryo off guard, but he puts all his focus into maintaining his poise. He has the upper hand, here, and he has to keep reminding himself of that. "It was good. Certainly an eye-opening experience, the people out there are very... different."

"Then what brought you back so soon?" His neglect to even ask where you were, if you were okay, if you were even alive makes Coryo's blood boil in his veins.

"Dr. Gaul." Coriolanus states, swallowing before he continues. "She granted your daughter and I a full pardon in exchange for taking an internship under her at the university. After all, that is her dream, is it not?"

Your father's eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of your name. "It was." He agrees.

"Is." Coriolanus corrects him, leaning forward with his elbows on the desk. "Strabo Plinth has offered to pay our way."

"Of course he has." Your dad chuckles, but not an ounce of humour reaches his eyes. "Self righteous bastard..."

"Seeing as you don't care about her as much as you care about your own reputation, he saw it would be a way to repay her for her loyal friendship to his son. She saved his life twice, after all." Coryo ignores your father's comment, watching as the gears turn in his head, trying to remember the second time.

"I know you think you understand my daughter, Coriolanus, but there are some parts of her you will never know. Not truly." Your father responds coolly. "So, I'm not sure what she has told you, but-"

"But nothing." Coryo cuts him off, leaning back in his seat. "Here is what is going to happen. You will have nothing to do with her, her life, her mistakes, or her decisions any longer. Since, in your own words, you see her as such a burden, I am willing to free you of that."

Your dad grits his teeth together, and it's his turn to lean forward. "Coriolanus Snow, you will not speak to me that way in my own home. Y/N is my daughter, and I shall be involved as I please and I shall do with her what I deem appropriate to consequent her actions."

"No." Coryo replies sternly, standing up abruptly, unabashed by the sound of the chair scraping across the wooden floor as he slams his fist on the desk. "She is eighteen. I take responsibility for her now, and unless you want to lose everything you and Highbottom have built, you will cut me in on every dime you make. Do you understand?"

Your dad laughs again. "And who will believe you, Coryo? You're just kids. You don't know what you're talking about. Whatever she told you is untrue. Simple as that."

"Would you like a list?" Coryo threatens. "Is that a risk you're willing to take, Y/D/N?"

He sighs, standing up to look eye to eye with him, clearly seething with the disrespectful use of his first name. "She's more trouble for you than it's worth, Son."

"That is my decision to make." Coryo says through gritted teeth.

"Suit yourself." Your dad raises his hands in defeat, careful to not show any fear. Coriolanus could see through it, though. He's won, and he knows it; it was a great deal, if your father was smart enough to see it that way. "How much do you want? Money is nothing to me."

"More than Highbottom gets." Coriolanus requests plainly, grabbing his hat and placing it back over his head. "And you'll pay for our wedding." He adds casually, pushing the discarded chair back into its place. "You'll pay for as many dresses and parties as she wants, every drink, every slice of cake, and every last flower she wishes for exactly how she wishes for it. No compromises, and no surprise appearances from you. Are. We. Clear?" He speaks clearly, intentionally enunciating every word with a trace of venom.

"Crystal." Your father scoffs, taking a drink from the whiskey glass on his desk.

Coriolanus nods, giving him a small smile. "Good. I'll be expecting the money orders every other week." He grins smugly, giving your father a quick bow before heading for the door, stopping as his hand brushes over the handle. "All due respect, Sir, which I deem to be very little, but what you have done to your daughter over all these years is what has made her into the woman you hate. Don't think I was the only one who noticed, and you would deserve every bit of harm we could do to your name. If you ever so much as speak to her again, I will kill you myself."

Coryo glances back at your father's expression only briefly before leaving. He couldn't resist the satisfying look of loathing and anger on the man's face.

The small smile sticks as he walks down the stairs, hearing the crystal glass shatter as it's thrown against the door behind him.

Finally, you were totally even.

taglist: @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @klplynn , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @gloryekaterina , @andrewgarfieldsbitch , @queenofspades6 , @pepperonipastas , @ladybug0095 , @lunamothwrites , @sbrewer21 , @mus-tbe-a-weasley , @splxtscreen , @unclecrunkle , @karmaswitch , @coconut-dreamz , @nekee-lilac02 , @ooooglymoooogly , @riddlerloveb0t , @lovedbalances , @notyourwildestdream , @snowlandson-top , @too-lit-for-fanfic , @utopiakys , @deafeningballoonnacho , @roosterschanelslut , @chmpgneprblem , @cosmoetik , , @urvampgfsworld , @carolanns-world@nan-nie , @shakespearseclipse , @iovemoonyy , @notyoursweetheart-honey , @xyzstar , @eatpizzasass, @slytherinholland , @queenofshinigamis , @elodiebeau , @soulessjourney

taglist is closed for coryo unfortunately, but my requests for him are open!! so send me all your suggestions!! requests here!!

#tbosas #tbosas fic #tbosas x reader #president snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus fanfiction #coryo snow #coriolanus x you #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #thg fanfiction #thg series #thg

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