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ofjunemoment · 9 months

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getting even | lee haechan (P1)

synopsis — Haechan is notorious for his pranks. Who can forget about the one time the campus fountain was bleeding red? You were weary of never getting on his wrong side, but when you get to know him better, it seems like behind all that front he's a sweet and caring guy. That is until you get a bucket of water dunked on you straight after he promised he wouldn't pull something on you. You're not only pissed that he had fooled you like this, but that he chose such a simple prank.

pairing - haechan x fem!reader

genre - university!au, (one-sided) enemies, strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn, very slice of life, eventual smut (MDNI)

Wc - 11.6k

content - clubbing scene, reader is drunk at one point, random idols mentioned, university settings

warnings: mentions of throwing up (nothing too detailed)

a/n - hi lovelies <3 heres the first part to getting even!!! while i was writing the story i noticed it was getting very long (and i still have like... five more scenes to write lol) so i thought of getting this out first ^^ not a lot happens here but stay tuned for the next part because.. a lot.. happens there hehe. i hope you enjoy readingggg!!

Walking into your lecture, your eyes scan around to find an empty spot to occupy, but you were pleasantly surprised to see your friend Naeun sitting in one corner, leaning back as she scrolls through her phone. She beams when she sees you, patting the seat next to hers.

“Fancy seeing you here,” You plop down your bag next to your chair, teasing her from the get-go. She whines shyly at your callout.

“I was struck with academic motivation never felt before. It felt like I was destined to come in today and be as studious as possible,” She points towards the lecture, which is barely filled with students. It’s a nine a.m. lecture, but you decided to come in early today to snag a good seat that lets your focus on the lecture with your upcoming assignment that's due; Naeun on the other hand barely comes in after the first two weeks of the semester, regardless of what time the lecture is. If it’s not mandatory, why go?

Her motto is what makes you raise your eyebrow at her now, scanning her figure as if to fish out the real reason why she’s here.

“Don’t look at me like that! I actually came in to study today,” you raise your hands in self-defence, looking away from her with a giggle, opting to stop teasing her.

But not even a minute later, she cracks; “Okay, fine. If you keep insisting me to tell you I guess I have no choice,”

“But I didn’t even—”

“I heard from Haneul who heard from Heejin’s girlfriend who was at that book club meeting with Renjun, which for some reason thought Norwegian Wood the book didn’t match the song, which is such a hot take that only he would take. Anyways,” She crosses her leg over her knee, leaning in as if to tell you a secret, manicured hands cupping the side of her face.

“Haechan might pull something today, at this lecture.” You barely caught her words, but after a few seconds of taking in what she said, you lean back and look at her with wide eyes.

“Haechan? I thought he was finished?” Naeun nods her head at lightning speed, her expression matching yours too.

“See, that’s what I thought too, but apparently he only had some sort of weird writer's block but for his pranks. I think he missed all the attention he used to get, not that he’s any less popular now, but you know what I mean,” You, in fact, have no idea what she means. But with the new information that you’re now fed, you’re hyperaware of your surroundings, looking around for any abnormalities within your vicinity.

Ever since the orientation of the first year of your course, when you met Naeun and had to fight against falling asleep with all the alcohol the seniors were feeding you as a sort of welcoming ritual, Haechan had already made a solid impression on everyone. With the seniors pushing all the first-year students to drink, Haechan had gotten into a bit of trouble for refusing to drink something they’ve poured out for him, as the older guys go around with mindless gossiping, stating how much of a prune he is and that he’s just ruining the fun, all while they stick around girls who are out of their league.

Later that day, Haechan had made a few drinks for the few who he had angered as a form of apology. With his head bowed in tow, he honestly looked like he was asking for their forgiveness.

“It was careless of me to disrespect my seniors so blatantly like this, could you accept these as an apology? I’ll even pour out the soju for you.” With the bottle in his hand, his other hand cradled his elbow, showing respect as he barely met their eyes. The seniors were ready to make him work for it more, but with the way he was bowed in front of everyone in the hall, it looked like they were picking on the poor boy.

“Ah, Haechan, you don’t have to do that.” One of them chuckles. “We were just joking aroun—”

“Please! Just accept this, I don’t know how I can last the rest of my uni years knowing that I had disrespected you on my very first day.” He shouts in his high-pitched voice, making the already quiet hall of murmuring people all go silent. The seniors were now all flustered, before being ushered to take the cups Haechan had provided, waiting for him to pour them drinks.

From the corner of the table, you were slumped against, you remember two things very vividly that night; one, Naeun was an only child, which we can definitely work with. And two, when Haechan looked up at the second and third years of his major accepting his drinks, his grateful smile was laced with some sort of sinister glint.

As the seniors grumble in embarrassment while Haechan finishes pouring each one of them a drink, they swish their cups around as if it’s wine, delaying drinking from them while Haechan insists on signifying their bond with a toast.

“To my seniors, I hope to perform up to your expectations,” And with the tip of their cups in an imaginary circle, everyone cheered ‘one-shot’ as the seniors down their drinks. Haechan merely sipped his, and you had noticed his lips tilting to one corner, and even in your drunk state, you knew something was off.

Your suspicions were confirmed when the seniors all started coughing wildly, some clutching the corner of a table or one anothers’ shoulders, seeming like they were coughing their lungs out.

Turns out that Haechan had slipped hot sauce into the drinks, creating a fusion of different burning sensations to travel down their throats as they drink the alcohol in one shot. Instead of being chastised, he was cheered on by the other first years who were either tipsy or barely hanging on. Ever since then, he was known to pull pranks every now and then, most harmless, some embarrassing, but nothing serious and nothing to spite anyone. Like tampering with clocks in the lecture halls, making them chime a tune every ten minutes, or when he had swapped his blonde friend Jeno’s shampoo with a firetruck red dye, leaving his neck and the better part of his forehead red from the dye for days on end. The only prank done with motivation was the first one as if it was some sort of initiation in itself.

“Wait, at this lecture? But there’s barely anyone here. Doesn’t Haechan carry out his pranks with a full-blown audience at tow?” Naeun shushes at your words, trying to get you to quiet down with your words, but it was too late. The deed was done as the guy from behind you perks up at your conversation, leaning into your conversation bubble.

You recognise him as Sunwoo, as he quickly shifts his gaze between the two of you. “Haechan’s doing something today? Like, at this lecture?”

“Oh.. well, I wouldn’t say so,”

“Naeun,” He turns to your friend, and you look at her with doom written on both of your faces. Naeun can’t lie to save her life, most people know that by now, but never really have the balls to test the theory. Until now, of course.

“Naeun, is Haechan gonna pull a prank today?”

“Naeun, remember what we talked about restraint.” You tried to keep her attention on you, knowing that if her gaze wandered to the boy, she would break.

“Come on Naeun,” Sunwoo whines now, stomping his feet, making you look at him with disgust written on your face at his sudden burst of cuteness. “Just say yes or no. Ywes or nwo.”

“Dude, gross,” You shove at his shoulder in an attempt to finally relent. Naeun squeezes her eyes shut.

“Pwetty pwease?”

“Fine! Fuck, oh my god. Yes, he is, Haechan is maybe doing something today.” She leans back into her chair, chest heaving as if she’d run a marathon. “I hated that, please don’t ever do that again.” Sunwoo winks at you two as he suddenly stands straight in his seat.

With hands cupped around his mouth, he shouts out. “Hey everyone! Haechan is pulling a prank today! Tell all your friends to be careful, and to keep their cameras rolling! Remember to post it on the campus’ blog!” And with that, phones chime as people text and call the imminent news. You and Naeun look at each other, defeated.

“At least they don’t know that we spread it?” You try, shoulders now hunched in as Naeun rubs at her temples.

“Oh! Also, it was these two who told me, so you should thank them!” Sunwoo yells one last time as he points at the two of you, with some hoots and cheers now being sent your way. You two shrink into yourselves even more.

“Haneul is never gonna invite me out for bubble tea ever again,”

As the lecture hall fills up to its max capacity, everyone is on the edge of their seat, waiting for something to happen. The star of the show himself is nowhere to be seen, but his friends are huddled in their usual corner, trying their best to smile kindly and repeat on about how they ‘don’t know what Haechan is up to. Can I send him a text to see where he is? Why are you telling me what to do—’. Thankfully Jeno was able to stop Renjun from pouncing anyone, even though they both knew nothing would’ve happened.

The lecturer seems over the moon to have the hall filled as much as it is, excitedly explaining statistics and their significance in the current world. She doesn’t seem to notice that the majority are here for some sort of public performance and not the different ways you can find the probability of whatever it is she’s droning on about. You try your best to nod when she looks towards your general direction.

As the lecture ends, people grow restless with the lack of action in the last two hours. But no one had dared to step out of the hall, much less out of their seats in fear of something happening. But when the lecturer thanks everyone for joining her this week and talks about gratitude, people slump into their chairs, grumbling and huffing about their time being wasted. Everyone starts packing straight away, slowly maneuvering to the exit as they cook up theories about why Haechan had gone so long without a prank, and how the word got spread in the first place. You and Naeun sit static in your chairs, not wanting to attract any attention, alongside Haechan’s friends, who merely go on their phones and twirl their pens.

“Do you think this will come back to bite us in our ass?” You’re careful to whisper this time, shoving your laptop into your bag and Naeun clicks her pens closed. She merely shrugs, “I don’t think they even know our names, so I think we should be fine.” You look at the lecturer, who seems to be skipping her way to the exit now, undoubtedly feeling ecstatic at doing her job. As she opens the door and steps to the hall, you last see her beaming smile before a screech echoes out, making everyone stop in their tracks.

The people who were the closest to her are now looking at the ground where she lies, bags and items now askew across the floor outside of the hall. A few step up and help her get up by grasping her wrists, pulling when she seems to have found their bearings. But their effort ends fruitless, as not only does she stay on the floor, but the two people who had helped her also collapse again on the floor.

“What the fuck…” As people go to help their friends and the lecturer from the floor, the three figures on the floor attempt to skid back into the lecture room instead of out. A guy you recognise as Beomgyu looks out onto the hallway outside the lecture hall, before pressing the tip of his shoe against the floor as if to test something. When he pressed his sole against the floor, he tries shifting left and right before pressing his other foot on the floor, rebalancing himself when he’s tilted a bit to the left. You see him squat down and take a big whiff, face confused as he stands back up, but not for long.

Smiling like a radiating child, his laugh echoes throughout the hall as he pulls on his friend Jeongin’s hand to join him. “The floor is covered with butter!”

At that, the once quiet hall grows loud, as people slowly step onto the floor, while some treat it like a skating rink, gliding and spinning right outside the lecture hall.

“The whole floor with butter? When did he have the time to do that?” You question as you now stand with your bag slung over your shoulder. Jeno, who was walking past you with Renjun, turns back to you. “He did it while the lecture was going on. If you can’t handle skidding on the floor, you might wanna use the other door,” And with a blinding smile, he turns back around and heads out the alternative door.

Naeun clutched at your bicep. “Did he talk to us right now? Like, look at us in the eye and speak words?”

You nod your head. “I think you can put your delusional days to an end. He totally likes you,” She smacks your hand as you tease her, but huddles closer nevertheless.

“I am, for once, thankful that you just speak words without thinking,”

You’re tugging at the waist of your skirt as Naeun pulls you by your locked elbows, shoes clicking towards the direction of the club. The Beehive club is known to harbour students of all majors from your university, as it is the closest club to the dorms situated just a five-minute walk away from campus, making socialising as easy as it can get. Naeun had urged for you two to go this week, even when you’d rather rest after giving in the assignment that you were slaving over for the past few days. She insisted that it would be worth this time.

“Haechan finally put a cease in his hiatus. That means he will be at the party, which means Jeno will be at the party, which means I need to make my presence known and somehow rizz him by sending him brainwaves.” She had explained while getting ready, as she blows on her false lashes before putting them on. You sulk from your position in bed, slowly trying to hype yourself up to get ready.

“You’re not even gonna talk to him? What’s the point then?” Naeun groans at that.

“You know that if I open my mouth around him I’ll pee myself. Come on, and you deserve to have some fun after all that hard work,” And so half a bottle of soju and an hour later, you find yourself covering one of your ears as you descend the stairs to the Beehive club. You feel the bass of the song travel up your legs as you enter the club, and are offered free drink coupons. It’s when you’re squeezing a lemon slice into your mouth at the bar that you feel a hand tap against your shoulder. You turn to see Haneul, a grin gleaming even in the dark of the club as she squeals and pulls both you and Naeun into a hug.

“My favourite girls, how have you been?” She shouts against the booming music against your ears, to which you give her a thumbs up while Naeun further squeezes herself against Haneul's figure in excitement, the alcohol already making her feel giddier. She pulls you towards the dance floor, muttering about how she has a VIP booth that someone had offered her, and leads the way. Plopping down, Haneul gestures for staff before saying something into his ear, before giving a wink and pointing at the VIP booth you’re settled at.

As you three start conversing, the staff comes back with more drinks, and Haneul encourages you to drink, assuring you that it’s attached to the tab of the booth. “Some guy called Jay has this booth under his name, and he said to put any drinks I wanted on the tab,” You toast your free drinks against one another, the clink of the glasses barely audible as you each take a sip. Haneul shares the anecdotes and stories that have while she was away on vacation, while you and Naeun nod and react accordingly, slipping in your commentaries at the climax of her stories.

“What about you two? Any news recently?” She takes a sip from her straw as she says this, glancing between the two of you excitedly. You and Naeun share a sheepish glance, knowing neither of you has anything as exciting to share.

“Oh come on, what have you been doing these days?”

“Just work,” Naeun frowns as she says this.

“And school,” You follow up.

“You’re right, and school. And then work again,”

“And scho—”

“You guys are miserable,” Haneul scoffs jokingly. She reaches for the bottle of champagne that's sitting in the ice bucket, grabbing two clean glasses. “Here, have more drinks so you can have something exciting to tell me later on,” Although mixing your drinks is never good, the loud music and the flashing lights encourage you to drink more, and your body craves to let loose.

Two glasses and a twenty-minute dance break later, you’re at a corner of the club huddling near each other. Naeun had caught a glimpse of Jeno at the bar, and the alcohol in her system removed all brain-to-mouth filters she had.

“He’s so—” She cups her face as she hiccups. “So fine. So so fine. You know, when we were at our lecture… the other day with Haechan’s …comeback or, fuck, butter floor, he spoke to us,” Her warm eyes fluttered as she thought back to that moment. “Jeno said real words, in real life and my ear heard them. I think he looked at me too, what the fuck?” She grabs her forehead as if taking the information in for the first time before she presses her head against your shoulder.

“She’s not being delusional, he did speak to us,” You nod your head at Haneul as she shoots you a questioning look, with Naeun clinging onto you harder. “He even helped us go out through the back door so we don’t end up all oily with the butter rink.” Naeun snorts, which catches all of you off guard and even herself, her eyes opening and locking onto something in the middle of the dance floor. Her gaze suddenly shifts, and before you know it she’s shoving her way through the crowd and heading towards her target.

“What is she—? Oh no, fuck,” You gasp while Haneul’s mouth hangs open when you both see Naeun heading toward Jeno, who’s dancing with someone at the moment, at full speed.

Haneul looks at you with contemplation. “I mean… it could turn out for the better?” She tries.

“Or she would wake up embarrassed as fuck for the next week or so,” You contemplate with her. Naeun is never the type to be aggressive, even when she's drunk. The most she’s done once was point a finger at you while she was angry and then look away to calm herself down.

But before you could relax back into your corner, you see her reach up for her earrings.

“Okay, fuck. Take this, I’ll be back,” Shoving your drink in Haneul’s hand, you make your way through the crowd and towards Naeun, rushing before she reaches her imminent doom. Jeno and his dancing partner are oblivious to the devil baby that Naeun takes the form of at the moment, which gives you hope that embarrassment can be evaded.

But then she full-body slams into Haechan.

“Woah,” He places his free hand on her shoulder, stopping her from tipping all the way to the right and losing her balance. The cup in his other hand now seems to be empty as its contents drip from both of their bodies, but Naeun is too drunk to notice and Haechan seems to have barely processed anything, seemingly working on autopilot at this point. You catch Naeun by the waist, your other hand going to her arm and slinging it around your shoulder to ground her, inspecting the mess she made. Your expression is apologetic when you make eye contact with Haechan, but he merely purses his lips and gestures putting Naeun’s other arm around himself for more support.

You mouth a ‘thank you’ and heave her body outside of the dance floor and towards the booth Haneul had brought you to earlier. Placing her on the couch, she slumps down and immediately whines when her hand makes contact with her torso on the descent.

“I’m all sticky now…” Her eyes are barely open as she says this, as the bass of the music dwindles in the semi-confines of the booth.

“That makes the two of us,” As Haechan says this, your eyes glance over his figure to see his once white button-up is now tinted blue and sticking to his body, outlining the faintest of lines in the dark of the club. You advert your eyes, not wanting to be caught gawking at him like a man in the Victorian era.

“I’m so sorry, thank you for helping,” You bite your lip momentarily, feeling mortified for ruining his shirt. He merely waves you off, “Don’t worry. I’m not too fussed about it,” His hand is placed at his hip as he says this, but his free hand gestures at your intoxicated friend. “But she seems to be the most bothered out of all of us,”

As if on cue, Naeun whines from her slumped position on the couches, shifting left and right in an attempt to gain some leverage into standing up, only to slip back down. She calls for your name and then squints at Haechan as if trying to remember his.

“Naeun, let’s call it a night, yeah?” You try telling her and you look around to find her bag that she’s left. She protests like a child in a grocery store, huffing as she droops further onto the couch, her cheek now pressed against the cushions.

“No, not until I bag the class clown's hot friend.” Your eyes widen as you feel your cheeks grow hot, trying your best to not glance over at Haechan and somewhat blow Naeun’s cover. You reach over and pat her cheeks lightly in a warning.

“Naeun, you’re blabbering nonsense now. Come on, let’s get going.”

“I’m not! I’m talking about Jeno, not nonsense. Haechan’s super hot friend Jeno,” Your whole body does a reset as she says this, shoulders going stiff while Naeun is oblivious to everything. She opens her eyes and locks them on something behind you, now pointing her finger and smiling giddily.

“Oh! Look, Haechan is here! Hey, do you think if I ask reallyyy nicely he’ll—” Her next words are muffled by your hand and a forced laugh. You cast a look at Haechan to see him trying and failing to contain a smile, as his hand pushes at the corner of his mouth. Upon making eye contact with you he quickly looks away and tries to retain himself from laughing. You sigh as you think about the number of things you’d have to run down to sober Naeun tomorrow about drunk Naeun’s antics right now. Gathering both of your things and shrugging your jacket on your friend, you quickly grab a tissue paper from the table and the eyeliner pen from Naeun’s bag, scribbling down your phone number.

Once Haechan has regained his composure, he’s met with your hand extended towards him holding a napkin. He picks it up from your hand as you wave it a bit impatiently before you quickly go to shoulder your friend up.

“This is my number, send me your details and I’ll cover for your shirt and the drink,” You grunt as you adjust Naeun’s deadweight before she gets the memo and tries standing on her two feet. “Thank you again for helping, uh, please ignore everything she just said. I know it’ll be a good payback prank but—”

“Hey, don’t worry,” Haechan’s chuckle resounds deep even in the loud bass of the club. “I wouldn’t pull anything on her for this.” He comes to Naeun’s opposite side, grabbing her arm and throwing it over his shoulder, heading towards the exit of the club without casting a glance back at you. You fumble with your belongings before quickly catching up, heels clicking as you ascend the stairs, your hands hovering around Naeun’s general direction, in fear that she’ll decide to fling herself off Haechan’s grip in an attempt of brushing her drunkenness off.

Outside of the club, cars whizz by the busy streets as people go for second and third rounds of drinks at this time of the night. Haechan lets Naeun sink into the ground as the latter pulls her weight, and you scramble towards her on the floor.

“Are you gonna hurl?” You ask. She hiccups.

“No,” And that’s all you needed to hear. Standing up, you fish out your phone and decide to call a cab back to your dorms, not wanting to carry your friend in the ten-minute walk back.

“Hey,” Haechan calls and you had momentarily forgotten that he was still here. You look up to see him scratching at his neck, mulling over his next words. “Uh, if you’d like, I didn’t drink anything and— I mean I was going to but then your friend just… What I’m saying is that I can drop you off?” The alcohol swimming in your brain may be playing with you, but you think you see a dust of pink settle into the boy’s cheek and neck.

“I mean, you’re Haneul’s friends, right? I remember you were her roommate at the dorms last year, so if you still live there I can drop you off,” He straightened his shoulder as he said this, now looking more confident about his offer.

You shift your weight, as you now actually get to take a good look at him. Under the club's dark and strobing lights, you could barely see his features far past his white button-up shirt and the light reflecting in his eyes. The street light illuminates the figure in front of you fully, allowing you to see the blue stain in his shirt, but also the tight fit of his jeans and the veins adorning his arms as he pushes up his sleeves at his elbows.

“Oh, thanks. But we should be okay. I’m sorry for the trouble.” You’re a bit flustered as you say this, your eyes flickering from his forearms to his face, not wanting to come off rude but also not being able to contain your monkey-sex brain from forming thoughts. You’re salivating over forearms.

“Okay…wait. Here,” He fishes out his phone from his pocket, typing in the phone number that you handed to him earlier in the night, calling you briefly. “Give me a text when you arrive home or if you need any help with warding off any weirdos.” You feel your stomach warm at his gesture, punching your name into his phone when he gives it to you. When you give it back to him, he mouths your name, before smiling at you.

“Will you be alright going alone?” He says as he helps you bring Naeun to a stand, the latter squeezing her eyes open and trying to regain balance and focus.

“Yup,” You pop, fixing your friend's bag on her shoulder. “She said she wasn’t gonna throw up, which means I have around twenty minutes until she changes her mind. She’s always the most self-aware pre-vom, so the walk back should be okay,” You don’t know why you’re reassuring him from getting kidnapped on your way back, but it feels nice to have someone care for your safety like this. Naeun starts marching away once you face her in the direction of your unit, and with a last wave goodbye, you turn your back to Haechan and the club.

[FRIDAY; 1:26 AM]

you: hii im home now

haechan: thats good

haechan: did she thrw up yet??

you: nah not yet

you: but we’re getting there you: t-minus three secs

haechan: remember to drink water b4 u sleep

you: okayy thank u for today :)

Telling Naeun how she almost embarrassed herself wasn’t as dreadful when she was fighting a hangover. She seemed to be more concerned about her water intake than almost causing a scene with Jeno at the club, complaining about the dryness of her skin.

“I can’t believe you let me go to sleep without telling me to wash my make-up off,” She says this as she adds her expensive serum to her face, grabbing a guasha tool and pressing the cool instrument against her temples, completely disregarding its original use. You continue brushing your teeth next to her against the sink, unable to reply with the foam in your mouth.

“You passed out on the toilet after throwing up, I almost threw up myself trying to bring you to your bed,” You say as you spit out your toothpaste.

“Wait, then how did I not cause a scene?”

“Haechan stopped you,” You reply seamlessly, drying your hands on the hand towel, oblivious to the bewildered stare Naeun throws your way.

“Haechan? Like, Jeno’s friend Haechan? The guy who put red food dye in the campus’ water which made everyone's mouth red?” You remember the initial shock of walking by the water fountain the day he did this, the blood red of the water being a stark contrast to the gloomy winter weather last year.

“Yeah, you even spilled his drink on him and everything.” You giggle at the groan that she lets out, covering her face with her hands.

“Oh my god, he’s gonna now plant a hidden alarm in my room like he did to this other guy in the dorm, or put plastic cockroaches in everything I own. I can’t believe I did that, was his shirt white?”

“Not after you spilt his neon blue drink,” You egg on even more. “But don’t worry, he said he won’t pull anything on you.” At that, her shoulders slump down in relief, as she leans against the doorframe of the bathroom.

“I’m safe,” She cheers, heading to the kitchen like nothing had happened. But being the drama queen that she is, she quickly turns to look back at you with a sharp gasp. “But you aren’t!”

You roll your eyes at her dramatics. “What do you mean? Why would I not be safe?” You disregard her sceptics as you pass by her and into the kitchen, opening the fridge to look for something to eat.

“He said that he wouldn’t do anything to me, but he didn’t say anything about you.” For someone whos nursing a hangover, it’s alarming to see her raise her voice and move as swiftly as she does around you, trying to get you as panicked as she is about her made-up scenario. “He can glitter bomb your bag, or hack your laptop so that whenever you have an assignment it doesn’t go through until a few seconds after it's due, or—” You cut your friend off by stuffing cereal in her mouth, stopping her mid-rant.

“Why would he do that to me? You have to know he only did those to relevant or well-known people, like Somi or Sunghoon. He wouldn’t do some grand prank on someone like me.” You turn to pour your chosen cereal into a bowl. “And if you say anything else, just know I’m ignoring you.”

“But—”

“I’m ignoring you,”

“You can’t do this to m—”

“Ignoring youuuu,”

You don’t hear of or see Haechan until Wednesday, when you’re walking to your second class of the day from the library.

Adjusting your items in your bag, you wouldn’t have noticed his presence at all until he had cleared his throat and brushed his shoulder lightly against yours.

“Oh,” Your eyes widen by reflex, taken aback by his sudden approach before they soften again at the smile adorning his face. “Hi,”

“Hey, you heading to class?” He small talks, and maybe you should spend less time with your roommate, because what should be a simple interaction between you and one of your peers is putting you on edge. Even when you had ignored Naeun’s dramatics about you being dunked on by the boy before you, you can’t deny the jittery feeling coursing through your body, as if your body is gearing in to go into fight-or-flight mode.

Not wanting to come off rude, you hum an agreement and attempt to cast a friendly glance at him, which doesn’t last long as you see him looking back at you.

“Did you, uh, have fun?” You attempt at making small talk, but Haechan looks at you quizically at your lack of context. “At the club, that night. Sorry for interrupting your night and ruining your shirt.” You can’t help but circle back, feeling apologetic when you recall the massive blue stain you had left him in.

“Hey, don’t sweat it. I hated that shirt anyway,” You gape at him as he says this, but quickly close your mouth shut and roll your eyes when you see the teasing glint flashing in his eyes. “And don’t worry about the prank thing too, I wouldn’t think about pranking a pretty girl like you,” You flush momentarily, but remember that you’re talking to ‘the biggest flirt on campus’. Haenul’s words, not yours.

“Good to know,” You egg him on, feeling your shoulders slump down as you grow more relaxed in his company. His jovial manner eases your thoughts of him coming after you, as his presence in front of you proves that he’s merely another student on your campus, trying to have fun and get by with crippling student debt.

Small talking a bit more as you head towards your tutorial, you revel in the drama he tells you that has occurred after you had left the club, remembering to list down the details to recall back to Naeun when you see her later. It’s when you’re at the door of your classroom when Haechan’s phone buzzes in his pocket.

“I have a call to take, but I’ll see you around?” He looks at you with a friendly smile, and it takes everything in you not to melt right there. You can see why some of the girls in your year are fond of him.

Waving him goodbye, you wait until he turns a corner before you go towards your class. You’re just a few minutes late, which explains why you’re met with the nearly closed door of the classroom. Readily, you grip the handle and creak open the door, eyes ready to scan around the room for a vacant spot for you to sit at. But before you could comprehend much, you’re suddenly soaked cold.

Turns out, there was a bucket of water placed on the top of the door, which explains why there was a slight gap instead of the door being closed like it usually is when your tutorial begins. No one in the class had a clue of why the bucket was there or thought to dismantle the bucket, not wanting to mess with the inevitable of something occurring. The door you had entered from wasn’t a main door to the room either, but instead, a back door that barely anyone used, so they were all equally shocked when you had chosen to walk through the obscure entry. Oblivious to the minute signs, you walked right into the classroom and were immediately met with water and a few cubes of ice.

You convey all of this to Naeun when she sees you damper than normal at the campus cafe, where you two usually meet during your free periods; you’re usually dryer than this, so it wasn’t hard for her to realise. She laughs, because is she truly Naeun if she doesn’t laugh at your demise, but then she falls silent, brows now furrowed.

You look at her in question. “Why do you look like you’re a shiver away? I’m the one who’s soaked.”

“Oh my god, Haechan did this to you,” She completely ignores your words, making her point with theatre-level dramatics.

You wave your hand at her, disregarding her theory. “He couldn’t have. He was walking with me when I was headed to class.”

“Exactly!” She exclaims, the hot coffee sloshing around in her cup as she almost jumps out of her seat. You flinch at the handling of the hot drink. “He walked with you to distract you from the fact that he’s gonna pull something. He must’ve set it up before and came around to slow you down. I mean come on,” She slams her cup down on the saucer. “A phone call right when you reach your class? Isn’t that too obvious?” And you hate to admit it, but Naeun does have a point. The main topic of your conversation was about him not pulling anything on you, only for you to walk into his trap just a few minutes later.

“Oh my god,” You slouch against the booth seat of the cafe, the information slowly settling in. “But—”

“Why you?”

“Why that prank?”

Now it’s Naeun’s turn to look at you quizically. “What?”

You feel incredulous now, heat building up inside you. “A fucking bucket of water? That’s it? Is that all he could think of; he’s the same person who filled a whole lecture room with ping-pong balls and tied his roommate's bed to the door with rope. Why was my prank so low-effort?” Naeun now realises the anger budding within you, as she looks around the cafe when your voice raises slightly. She splays her hands out in front of you in a lieu to calm you down, but you’re too warped in your fury to acknowledge her attempts.

“Water? Water? With like, four cubes of ice, and that’s it. Is that all I’m worth? He couldn’t put a glitter bomb in every second purse of mine, or change my ex’s contact name to yours, or anything.” You down your drink quickly, feeling too worked up to be cooped in the booth of the cafe. Naeun follows after, quickly gathering her things and putting her laptop and pens in her bag. You would feel bad for cutting your study session short, but she was barely studying, so the guilt dwindles just a bit. The anger overpowers it by a margin.

“Hey, what are you— don’t go and do something stupid.” Naeun tries as she loops her arm with yours.

You sigh when she squeezes your bicep, feeling the heat inside you cool down just a bit. “I’m not gonna do anything. If anything, if I act like it affected me and lash out at him, it would be exactly what he wants.”

“So you’re gonna act like nothing happened?” You nod your head with hesitation.

“Well, something along the lines,”

It is no surprise that Haechan thrives on attention. That’s the sole reason why he continues with these pranks, and it doesn’t take a psychology major to figure this one out. You did think about pulling something back on him, maybe like pantsing him in the middle of campus or putting some hair removal cream in his shampoo so he thinks he’s slowly balding, but even with how embarrassing and risky they are —you don’t want to leave a huge impact on him, just ruffling his feathers a bit, you know he’ll revel in the attention regardless. So you go for the next best thing.

Ignoring him.

It was a good idea when you and Naeun were walking and passed by his group of friends, who exchanged some pleasantries with you, your friend barely holding it together at Jeno’s eye smile. You held eye contact and waved at Renjun and Jeno, but barely spared a glance towards Haechan’s direction, and when you finally did, you just gave him a blank stare.

You think it worked when you saw the corner of his lip slip down from the smile he was sporting, and you almost felt bad for acting so cold to someone who didn’t do anything. Then you remind yourself that he did, in fact, do something. You thought it would be enough to do this just a few more times when you see him in the next few months of the semester, and you barely see him so it shouldn’t be too hard. But it’s like fate has a personal vendetta against you, because ever since that fateful night, you see him everywhere.

You barely remember him coming into the campus library, let alone the quiet corner that you huddle yourself in to get your grind on. So it’s safe to say that you were shocked when you feel a tap on your shoulder only to look up and see Haechan looming over you, a shy smile sporting his face at the prospect of reaching out to you.

“Hey,” He greets, his hand tugging at his earlobe as if shy. He looks at the seat opposite yours, as if wanting to sit there. You feel shame burn inside you when you don’t go to offer the seat, but you attempt to dwindle it when you remind yourself that you had to sit soaked throughout the entire class because participation is mandatory for your grades.

“How was your class the other day,” Your grip on your pen tightens as he says this, and you’re sure that the tilt in the corner of his mouth is to keep himself from laughing at you straight to your face. But you don’t give in, and instead nod your head with your eyebrows slightly raised, as if exasperated.

“It was okay,” You can only keep your replies short instead of ignoring him by keeping silent. His lingering form by your table and your avoidant gaze is already fueling the awkward air surrounding you, but you’re not giving in until he does.

And it seems like he’s not backing out anytime soon. “ Oh, I heard from Haneul that you’re planning on picking up cross-cultural management next session? I took that course last year so if you wanted some notes I can send them to you,” Fuck. How is he so good at this? His words make you think about your initial assumptions, and looking at his face, he does seem genuine about his offer, the tips of his ears now growing pink.

You soften a bit, ready to apologise to him for being overstrung, but then his gaze goes to something behind you, and now he covers his mouth with his palm as if stopping himself from bursting with laughter.

Confused, you turn around to see what was so hilarious for him to shift his demeanour so suddenly, only to be met with his friends, Jeno and Renjun, who go cartoonishly still at your attention. Of course, all of this is a running joke for him; sweetening up to you after the incident just so he can prove that no one can resist him.

Scoffing, you shut your laptop and gather your things, ignoring Haechan’s noise of surprise with your sudden movement, shoving everything in your bag and shouldering it. “I have to head out now, forgot that Naeun wanted to meet me before her class.” You make up an excuse as you look at your phone for the time. Naeun is taking a diligent afternoon nap at this very moment back in your dorm, completely oblivious to the trials you’re facing; but he doesn’t need to know your every move.

You almost slip out a ‘sorry’ as a reflex, but one glance back at the shocked faces of both Haechan and his subordinates brings you back, as you merely give him a tight smile before brushing past him.

“Oka— I’ll see you around!” Your shoulder bunches up at his volume as you hastily make your way out of his presence and the building.

Stepping into the radio broadcasting club room, you greet everyone present, apologising for being late.

“I got caught up on the way,” You take a seat at the table, putting your bag on the ground. Naeun, whos seated next to you, taps repeatedly at your bicep as a greeting, squealing away from you when you attempt to deliver a pinch to her skin.

“Did you get another bucket of water dunked on you?” Your senior Yubin comments, making everyone in the room laugh. You deliver a strained chuckle as Naeun casts a worried glance at you, but you wave her concern away

“Yubin’s just kidding, you’re not late either, we just sent Minseok to pick up the pizza boxes. Then after we’re done eating we can start brainstorming for the university mini carnival event.” Sohee softly informs, looking up from her clipboard to give you a kind smile.

“If anything, Jihoon’s the person we have to chastise. He texted saying he’ll be here in five minutes fifteen minutes ago.” Juyeon huffs at his phone screen.

As if on cue, the door opens and in comes Jihoon, but he isn’t alone.

“Sorry for coming in late, but look what I found along the way. Isn’t he so cute?” He coos at Haechan who stands beside him, looking at his friend incredulously, mockingly raising his hand. Ignoring Haechan’s disdain for his words, he pinches at his cheeks as he looks towards Yubin and Sohee. “Can we keep him? I always wanted a pet bear,”

Naeun leans in towards you. “He’s more of a cocaine bear than a pet.” You smack at her as she whispers this to you, reminding her of restraint. “You’re not the best at whispering, babe” You tease. “Keep your tone down if you also don’t wanna get dunked on.”

You feel your heart melt when you see look towards Haechan’s direction and see his cheeks turning pink. It seems like you’re not the only one when you hear a chorus of dreamy mutterings echo throughout the room. He swats at Jihoon’s hand before tilting his head lightly at the two leaders of the club. “I wanted to make sure this devil spawn doesn’t make a mess every step he takes. I’ll head out now,” He starts to wave at everyone in the room but sounds of disapproval travel around, and before he knows it Haechan is being dragged by Jihoon and Juyeon to take a seat at the table. In the midst of all the commotion, he looks up and catches your gaze, making you still in your seat, before he’s handled once more to sit down.

“You’re more than welcome to join us,” Yubin beams, and not for long Minseok comes in with a mountain of pizza boxes in his grip.

You see the tip of his ears turn red (something you now notice that you see a lot) as he thanks your seniors. “I’ll be out after I steal your food,” He grins, and it takes much more than your initial willpower to look away.

So far, you were willing to categorise seeing Haechan manifesting everywhere as chance; maybe some sick and twisted form of coincidence. Because before all of this, if you were to get a dollar for every time you had encountered him throughout your whole degree, you would have six, maybe seven dollars if you count that one Zoom call. You had your doubts in the beginning when you saw him at the library and then at your club meeting, that he was doing all of this on purpose; but every other time you would see him in the hallways and lecture halls, you can’t chalk it up to anything but pure coincidence. Haechan is a uni student doing uni-student activities.

It takes you some time to get that idea jammed into your head, and you’ve nearly convinced yourself until today. A relaxing wind-down with one glass of wine turned into you finishing a whole bottle, which amplified your cravings for something sweet. Meeting in the breakfast aisle in your local grocer shouldn’t be something shocking, but you can’t wrap your head around the fact that he, too, decided to purchase cereal at 4 a.m. on a Tuesday.

“Nope,” You immediately put the two boxes of cereal you were choosing back on the shelf clumsily, looking around for the nearest exit in the opposite direction.

“Hey, wait—”

“No, nope. Not at all,” You’re now putting back all the drunk midnight cravings you’ve picked up, shoving them back in their designated areas on the shelf haphazardly as you make your way back out of the place. Your drunk and sleep-deprived brain can’t handle the fact that you’re supposed to interact with Haechan here, out of all the socially acceptable exchanges. You hear a shuffle behind you, but you can’t bring yourself to look back around, focusing entirely on exiting the store without tripping over anything.

Outside, the cold of the night engulfs you as you try to find your bearings, but you’re stopped from lumbering your way back to your dorm by a hand grabbing your arm.

“Y/n, slow down—”

“Stop manifesting yourself into my life,” You groan as you weakly prod away his hand, but his soberness gives him an upper hand, as he merely grabs your hand and holds you by your wrists instead.

“Manifesting? I’m not— actually, that’s not even important. Is there anyone with you tonight?” You groan lightly, still trying to free yourself from his grip. “Naeun?” He prods.

You sigh when you realise he’s not giving up anytime soon. “Naeun is at home, waiting for the Oreo cereals I was gonna impulse buy. Or maybe she’s dreaming about them? I don’t know,” You mumble, hands now lax in his grip, head tilted down. When you don’t hear a reply, you look up and are met with Haechan fishing his phone out of his pocket before pressing the dial button.

“Hi Jen, I’ll meet you at the dorms, it’s…” He glances at your slumped figure, and you’re not sure if the heat in your cheeks is due to the drinks or his attention on you. “A long story. I won’t be long.” Pocketing his phone after ending the call, he lets go of your wrists in favour of clasping his hand into yours, fingers interlocking as he starts heading in the direction of your dorms.

“What are you…” The dark of the night doesn’t help you navigate your way back, so you’re slightly grateful that Haechan is guiding you the way he is.

“Our dorm buildings aren’t far from one another. I can’t let you go home alone in this state,” He answers your question before you could even voice it, looking at you with a soft gaze. He chuckles when you go to look away from him every time he looks at you, squeezing the grip he has on your hand.

The walk is silent for the most part, but Haechan’s brows are furrowed as he thinks about something. Just as you start seeing the entrance of your dorm building, Haechan starts. “Why are you ignoring me?”

The heat in your cheeks disperses momentarily as a cold wave washes over you. The heat comes back when your wide eyes meet his questioning gaze, and you can’t help but squirm in place from being put on the spot.

“That’s cheating,” You slur with a frown. “Ask me when I’m sober. Or when you’re also a bottle of wine in.”

“A whole bottle? Jesus,” He laughs lightly as you groan, tightening his hold on your hand when you try to run away. The pull of his grip catches you off guard, as you stumble forward and closer to his figure. “I hope you can keep a promise, pretty girl.” He teases. Before you can retaliate, he plops you at the entry of your dorm building, swiping the access card to the building poking out of your front pocket and on the reader, before removing his hand from yours and dropping the card back in your possession. You already miss the warmth of his touch, but by the time you look back up, you’re only met with his retreating back.

“Hey, you’re just in time. Did you know that if I did a handstand for almost two minutes straight I can get myself to feel— Why are you empty-handed?” Naeun’s slurs have toned down since you last saw her, but it’s still there. You sigh as you plop yourself face down onto the couch.

“Naeun?” Your voice comes out muffled from the couch cushions, but Naeun hears you regardless, grunting a reply as she shuffles from her position on the floor, probably to find a not-empty bottle of alcohol.

“You know that saying about seducing the things that scare you?” You move your head out from the cushion halfway through your question, wanting to breathe more than to wallow for once.

“Ohhh, I know what you’re talking about,” She hiccups only once. “The fearing what you attract.”

“Attracting your fears.”

“Tomato-tomato. What are you trying to say?”

“I don’t think they were lying about it,” You had only possessed the fear of saying Haechan in the past few weeks, and now you only see him. If only you were that much fearful of money.

“Are you serious?” Naeun straightens her posture quickly. “I’m so scared of puppy play. Like, truly terrified. If someone handsome were to come up to me with a collar around their neck and a leash in their hand I would scream in fear,”

“Okay, I got it the first time.”

“I don’t think you understand, if they were all whiny about how they wanna be my pet and have me stroke the—”

“I get it!”

Although you had came to the epiphany that you’re attracting what you fear (you don’t know if the exaggerated gasp you let out when you walk by a bank or ATM helps, but it’s worth a try) you still can’t get yourself to not think of Haechan when you walk around campus.

But you don’t see him for the entire week after your last drunk interaction with him, and you’re not sure if you should be relieved or scared. So you choose to be both simultaneously, When you step into your corner of the library, your heart beats like you’ve run a marathon, only to be met with the usual vacantness it always was. You then go through your usual tasks until you have to a secondary location, and before you know it you’re nervous for simply wanting to walk to the bathroom.

“Am I going to constantly piss my pants every step I take on campus?” You complained over dinner with Naeun, as she constantly flips the meat on the grill to avoid burning it.

“If you keep thinking about him, then I think the answer is obvious.” She puts one slice on your plate before continuing. “But also maybe take this as a sign? He’s not popping up randomly anymore, which means that your life is like it was before.” Your reflex is to fight back for no other reason than to counteract your friend, but you cut yourself short when you realise she has a point. Ever since that fateful night, your life is now like it was before you had briefly acquainted with the man.

And so you’re not scared anymore. You even forget to double-check your surroundings to see if he’s anywhere in sight. Your life is as peaceful as a student's life can be. Of course, until it isn’t.

The university’s yearly fundraising festival had come around again, and the broadcasting club had decided to run a barbeque booth to raise their supply funds. You were assigned to take orders, while Juyeon and Yubin tended to the skewers. The heat of the booth mingles with the cool wind of the summer night, as you fan yourself with your hand, handling the money given to you as someone makes a new order.

“One order of chicken skewer please,” You raise your voice enough for Juyeon and Yubin to hear over the sizzling noise of the grill, as you find the exact change to give back to the girl ordering. As the next customer shuffles up, you’re too busy writing down the order on a slip of paper to spare them a glance (which, if this was a running business, would not be counted as good customer service).

“Welcome! Would you like to order our rice cake skewer? We have a special combo of two for the price of one,”

“How much is it for a few minutes of your company?” You feel your blood run cold upon hearing his voice. Looking up, you’re met with Haechan’s gaze your eyes locking in an unexpected encounter. Adorning a smile on his face, he looks past you and greets your club members before you can think of what to say.

“Hi Channie, how are you?” Yubin asks as she put a chicken skewer in a cup. Juyeon comes up next to you as he reaches out to pinch Haechan’s cheeks. “Hey there cutie, do you wanna do us a favour and buy everything from our booth?” He flutters his eyelashes just for good measure.

Haechan chuckles as he smacks his friend's hand away. “I’m the wrong person, only Chenle has enough money to do that. But can you do me a favour and let me steal your beloved club member?” You don’t realise that he’s talking about you, until you see his hand gesturing towards your figure as he looks at you. You’re about to protest, your brain already conjuring something up about how you have the heavy duty of being the booth’s designated accountant for the night, but Yubin is always a step ahead.

“Go ahead! Her turn was gonna end soon anyway, Sohee is gonna arrive in a few minutes with more of our supply,” She beams at you as she waves you two off. Before you can say anymore, Juyeon is shoving you out of the way, and you have no other choice but to trudge after him.

You walk side by side in silence, as the noise of the multiple booths being run by different clubs and societies encapsulate you two. You try your best to look at everything but him, even when you feel him stealing glances at your figure.

The silence doesn’t last long, though, as Haechan speaks up after looking around at the booths set up. “It’s quite stuffy with all these booths and people,” Not knowing what to say, you merely glance at him as you nod along. He purses his lips, before trying again.

“You must be feeling pretty warm, running the grill and managing everything at the booth. Jihoon used to complain all the time about how hot it got when he was in charge of these things." It's true you've been avoiding the grill area, so you’re not necessarily overheating, but does he deserve to know?

You hear him lightly huff when you just give a shrug and an ambiguous sound, but he doesn’t back down. “Do you want me to get you something to help you cool? Maybe ice cream or a can of coke.” You're on the verge of giving your umpteenth non-verbal response of the evening, but when you look at the boy walking next to you, you’re met with a glare and a quick snarl of his lips. Faced with his insistence, you decide to speak up.

“I’m okay,” You thought this would appease him, but it seems like anything you could’ve done would eventually send him over the edge. You feel his hand clasp onto your wrist before you’re being dragged away from the congested corridor of booths and into a secluded corner of the campus grounds. Even in the shade of the tree, the little light that slips through the lampost nearby highlights the frustration on Haechan’s face, both arrogance and apprehension flood your senses as you realize that his frustration might be a result of something you've done.

His voice is calm when he speaks, “Okay, did I do something to offend you?” He briefly closes his eyes and mentally counts a few numbers before opening them and looking back at you again, this time with a calmer yet stern expression. But rather than soothing your irritation, this seems to send you over the edge.

“I don’t know, did you?” You know you’re being childish, but that’s the point. You’re not planning on giving in until he apologises. By the look of confusion he’s sporting on his face, it doesn’t seem like it's gonna happen anytime soon.

Admittedly, he does look cute when confused, as his front teeth poke ever so slightly from his slightly gaped mouth, as if he’s about to say something but blanked at the last second. “I did do something?” At your scoff, he gathers himself. “Look, if I did do anything, I didn’t have any bad intentions. I wasn’t trying to hurt you or anything.” But this explanation only sends you over the edge.

Your hands drop from where you had crossed them in front of your chest, as you give Haechan an incredulous look. “No bad intentions? You didn’t want to hurt me? Are you serious? The fact that you even did it is terrible, but such a useless, no-brainer prank?” You’re too angry to notice Haechan’s shift of expression, as his scared grimace falls into another confused furrow of his brows.

“Like, a fucking bucket of water? Even a toddler can pull that. Couldn’t you have done something harder, more creative? Something with more effort, like, I don’t know, expired slime or a skateboard at the door. And I feel even more stupid because I believed you when you said you wouldn’t prank me, I even defended you when Naeun was going off about how I’d be your next target, and I turned out to be a fool, fuck. And for what? A lame bucket of water? Am I only worth that much?” You pause to catch a breather, hand splayed at your waist as you point the other accusingly at Haechan. He widens his eyes slightly, but then a smile falls on his face, and you’re sent spiralling.

“Are you smiling right now?” And at that, he starts laughing. Oh my god, you think, he’s a sociopath.

But Haechan starts laughing even harder, his body falling forward as he leans towards you, clutching your extended finger with his thumb and forefinger, shaking it around before folding over with laughter once more. You’re so, so confused, and now a bit scared that Haechan’s gonna keel over and fall from how hard he’s laughing.

But you don’t need to do such a thing, as he sobers up pretty quickly, straightening himself up and walking closer to you, while his hand now lightly holds your palm in his. You feel heat course through you, from the comfort of his hands holding yours and the sweet laughter that now rings in your head. You feel embarrassed that you bursted like that when you were so determined to make him fall to his knees and ask for your forgiveness. Instead, you’re left blushing like a schoolgirl who confessed with a heartfelt letter.

“Okay, okay. Wait, don’t go sullen now.” You look away, your cheeks growing hotter at being so easily read. Haechan grips onto your hand that was lightly resting on his palm, grabbing your attention.

“I swear on Renjun that I didn’t pull that prank on you. I didn’t even know that happened to you.” Your first instinct is to not believe him, but he’s looking earnestly into your eyes, and the gentle squeeze of his hand in yours makes you melt.

“I don’t know how I can prove it you that it wasn’t me, But I told you I wouldn’t do it and I always stick by my promises. I can maybe help you find who did it?” He offers this while smoothly clasping your hands together, fingers now lacing in yours. The intimate gesture sends a wave of flustered warmth through you, and his chuckle in response only confirms that your emotions are evident.

“Wah,” He sighs bumping his shoulder into yours, “What a relief, I thought you were rejecting me before I could even muster the courage to ask you out.”

“Wait, you—” You’re interrupted as Haechan starts striding forward and back into the busy atmosphere of the campus. “Haechan, slow down.” Your voice gets lost in the throng of the crowd, the bustle of people and echoes of activities happening making it hard for your plea to reach his ears. That, or he's simply ignoring you.

In a blink, you're situated back at your booth, the savoury scent of skewed chicken and rice cake wafting through your nose. Haechan releases your hand, and you both face Sohee, who's manning the cashier with a somewhat indifferent expression. “Hi, I just wanna return her,” Haechan says casually, his gaze shifting between you and Sohee.

Sohee regards the two of you with a blank stare, her expression unreadable. Haechan pats your shoulders twice before he waves the two of you goodbye. Sohee goes back to organising the money gained from tonight’s business, not sparing you another glance. “We have a no return and refund policy, especially with damaged goods.”

“Hey!”

You’re not surprised when you see Naeun in the lecture hall, but you are slightly taken aback when you see her situated just a few seats behind Renjun and Jeno. When you rock up next to her, you let your eyes do the talking as you glance back and forth between her and Jeno’s back, with the latter all the more oblivious to what’s happening.

She smacks at your leg before grabbing you and pulling to sit you down. “Shut up,”

“I didn’t even say anything?”

“Your empty brain echoes really badly when you conjure even a single thought,” You’re too shocked to retort back (how did she think of that so quickly?), so you simply go to unpack your bag. When you sit back from organising your items, your eyes fall on the door of the lecture room, and you’re surprised to see Haechan stride in. Even in the middle of summer, he has a leather jacket swinging from his fingers at his shoulder, sporting a white graphic t-shirt tucked into his black jeans. You’re about to say something to Naeun, maybe have her indulge in your admiration for a bit, only to be met with the same look you’re sporting but just aimed at the back of Jeno’s head.

When Jeno turns his head to greet his friend, Naeun quickly whips her head away, clearing her throat. You poked at her sides teasingly, as she squirms and smacks your hand away.

“I thought you were gonna ‘act chill’ around him?” Naeun huffs at your words.

“I am acting chill, I’m basically freezing.” You raise your brows at her. “There’s nothing chill about staring at the back of hi—”

Naeun smacks at your mouth when Renjun turns his face sideways, but the loud smack of skin garners more attention, as all three of them look back at you. As the other two merely glance briefly before going back, Haechan’s eyes stray longer while the corner of his mouth quirks up. You offer a simple wave and he flashes a smile before turning back around.

Naeun sighs as she releases her hand from your face, but quickly corners you with a glare. “What was that? Why was he smiling at you like that?” You’re grateful that she’s been practising her inner voice, as you know that Naeun from two weeks ago would have had the whole lecture hall aware of her words with how loud she whispers.

“Long story short, he didn’t do it, and I think …” You’re not sure if you should tell Naeun about the possible confession that occurred. Not because you don’t trust your friend but because you’re not even sure if that could be counted as a confession.

“How are you so sure? Maybe he said it to get on your good side,” Naeun stares daggers at the back of Haechan’s head, but her gaze quickly softens when Jeno plays with his hair.

“I don’t know,” You confess, “He said he didn’t do it, and I trust him.” Naeun surveys your expression for a bit with a glare, before nodding her head in acceptance.

“Alright, I trust your trust in him. But if he ever pulls anything…” You pinch your friend's cheek in gratitude. “I know, you’ll have my back.”

“Speaking of back, did you see Jeno’s when he stretched? It’s okay if you haven’t he’ll do it again when we're a third through the lecture.” You slowly pat her shoulders, speechless once more as you sigh and try to tune her out for the rest of the lecture.

read part two here !!

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idcbabyialreadylostmymind · 1 year

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L'appel du Vide

Pairing- Sully Family x Sully!Reader

Summary- You feel the urge to engage in destructive behaviors just to feel alive and your family wants to get to the bottom.

Pt.1 pt.2 pt.3

Warnings- self destructive thoughts/actions, getting slapped, biting someone's ear off, hateful thoughts, description of self harm, self harm, blood/bleeding, crying lmk if I missed something

A/N- did I cry writing the last part bc of my crippling mommy issues yes yes I did but we don't talk about it also tell me how it is 🤭🤭

It's like a call to a void, the adrenaline of putting yourself in danger. Like jumping off a cliff not knowing if your banshee is going to catch you, or slicing your hand with an open blade, or getting into a fight with someone ten times bigger than you. It made you feel real, made you feel alive. And if your not doing it your thinking of it. So why wouldn't you go with your siblings to the old battle field.

"Tuk keep up." Lo'ak said as you pushed a branch out of the way. "Why'd you bring her?" Spider asked and Lo'ak huffed. "She's always like 'I'm telling if you don't let me come you know your not supposed to go to the old battlefield " Lo'ak mocks your younger sibling only making Spider laugh and you roll your eyes at his childish tactics. Tuk pokes her tongue out at him and Kiri comes to her defense. "Don't pick on her." And finally you make it, you and Lo'ak crouch Kiri beside you. "Dad is going to ground you," she whispered to you, "shush can you stop." You reply and she only rolls her eyes. "For life."

behind some bushes you and Lo'ak look around there was all kind of rubble and metal on the ground you hit Lo'ak on the stomach to get his attention. "Let's look around." You say before immediately jumping back, Avatars. "Shit." You whisper Lo'ak looks at them his body freezes. "We have to tell dad." Kiri whispers. Lo'ak goes to touch the microphone on his neck. "Hey dad." Lo'ak whispers, your eyes were glued to the avatars.

"Lo'ak." You hear your father's gruff voice over the ear piece. "Yes we are at the old battle field and there are some Avatars we've never seen them." Silence, "Who is we." Was all your father said afterward you and Lo'ak share a look. "Me, Y/N, spider, Kiri and Tuk." He paused before he said Tuk and you could hear your father sigh. "Just stay safe, Lo'ak Lo'ak!"

Suddenly before you could think your queue was being pulled roughly making you wince in pain. You look around at the kidnappers around you. The avatars. "Show me your fingers." An older man said to Lo'ak and he flips him off and give a screechy hiss and you laugh loudly making Lo'ak chuckle. "Your his alright and you," he says turning around to you pointing a finger. "Your a cute little thing aren't ya' think that's funny?" He asked. You cringe at his statement. "I do actually." He smirks gripping your face. "We'll keep you." He said and all you did was hiss it was deeper and louder than the one Lo'ak previously did.

He gives you a hard slap and all you did was smile as you hear your mother's war call. The man's face fell, "I will kill you as many times as I have to demon." Was the last thing you heard before you saw your father and brother, Neteyam sweep in and get the avatars holding your siblings but they couldn't help you but you didn't need any. As your father held you sister in her arms you took this chance to kick the man holding you kick him in the knee he filps you around arms locking around you and before you knew it you opened your mouth clamping down on the first thing near you and it came off in your mouth the taste of iron on your tongue filling your mouth, the man screamed letting you fall to the ground. You jump up and spit the piece of skin in your mouth blood spilling from it as you spit. "She bit my ear off! The bitch bit my ear off!" He yelled you smiled as you pick a gun up that he had dropped and run off next to your dad.

It was hell after you got home. Your father yelled at you and Lo'ak about how irresponsible you two were and how stupid it was to attack the man holding you. But, this was the usual for you not taking anything to heart but you could see Lo'ak every heart breaking thing your father said to you two it stabbed him a hundred times over. And then your father put everyone of lock down and suddenly everything darkened around you, it felt like you were a dead person in someone you didn't know, like your family and friends weren't really your family and friends.

So there you are sitting at the back of your families home watching the sky, you had the razor blade you swiped from Norm in hand and all of those bad thoughts flew into you again. You griped the balde t as tears fell down your face, "Your not real." Your head thought. "Your nothing." The thoughts consumed you as the blade got closer and closer to your skin and it made contact you held it to the base of your palm. Your eyes clench closed as you held the blade hard and sliced all the way down, the throbbing pain was there and then you take the balde off of your palm and as the blood dropped from your hand, and a sense of comfort fell over you.

Your mother looked at your hand as she wrapped it up, "And you say you accidentally cut yourself when sharpening your dagger." She asked once again and you smile. "Yes I was being stupid I know." You laugh as she lets go of your hand. Before you asked your mother to wrap your hand your father gave you the news you had to leave, it hurt it really did you were leaving the only place you called home but you knew you had to stay strong for your siblings for your Mother.

When you finally made it to the Meykayina all of their eyes were on you and your family it was strange, unsettling. It only got worse the more you stayed there people made fun of you, of your siblings. And that feeling you knew all to well came back you had to cut, and everytime you had a quick explanation. Soon you had scars in various parts of your body, on your sides, inner and outer thighs, your calfs, you even had to wrap you hands up. And after an altercation with Lo'ak and the chiefs son they were forcing you and your siblings to hang out with him and his sister Tsireya. She was nice, sweet you sort of envied her but didn't show it. "Hey forest people." Ao'nung laughed and all you did was roll your eyes. "Hey fish boy." You reply opening your eyes and giving him a sarcastic smile.

He looks taken back but Kiri and Lo'ak burst into laughter as Neteyam hits your arm. "Let's get this day over with." He said getting the ilus saddled up. You stand up and head towards your ikran and they just look at you. "Forest girl where you going!?" Ao'nung yells and you turn around. "I'm going to ride Amhel." And then Neteyam huffed. "What is wrong Neteyam?" Tsireya asked as she lifted her leg over her ilu. "When she rides Amhel that means shes gonna do something stupid and then get in trouble for it." He shook his head as you jumped into her and connected taking off into the sky. It was a dangerous speed, but you didn't care. You did all kinds of things in the air the farther you got into sea. "Flip upside down." You thought and that's what she did. "She's not strapped in!" Tsireya yells watching you as you let your arms swing in the air. Neteyam watched he hates when you did this, but he couldn't stop you.

You made it to the island you land on the warm sand and hop off as the other five to make it to you. Kiri hit you upside the head. "Why are you so stupid always doing dangerous things." She scolded. "Ah and it's not dangerous it's fun have some." You joke rubbing the sore spot she made. "Fun? We rather keep our lives thank you." Neteyam chimed in and you only rolled your eyes. "If I wanted to get scolded I would have stayed with mom and dad..." Trailed off by seeing a huge rock. It was beautiful it started in the water where it has a teal ring, and it goes up as moss and leaves grow on it, it had to be at least fifty felt in the air. "Y/N don't." Neteyam spoke, to late.

You rode Amhel up to the rock and looked down you were sure to die if you jumped and no one caught you. "Perfect." You thought.

Meanwhile on the shore your older brother and sister sit down and put their face in there palms. "Told you, something stupid." Neteyam muttered to the group. Ao'nung had his transparent eyebrows furrowed as he looks between you and your brother. "What is she going to do?" He asked as you got of of Amhel. "Just watch it's so cool." Lo'ak said.

You disconnected you queue as you let the side of your head. "Remember catch me." You whisper to her and she only gives you a small chirp in response as she takes flight. She circles around the rock getting ready to catch her rider. You take one more look down stepping back a few steps you take a deep breath. Closing your eyes you run and jump. Falling through the air you could hear Tsireya yelling, "She's gonna die, she's not gonna catch her!!" This time your siblings got up and started yelling Neteyam jumped to his ilu ready to rush toward you and then everyone stopped as the heard you. "Why are you guys so serious." From behind them.

"Holy shit that was cool." Lo'ak laughed you got off of Amhel and walked to them sitting down in the sand letting the warm sun hit your skin. "I thought you were going to die." Tsireya said sitting down next to you. "Not today." You say smiling as you close your eyes.

"You did What!" You father yelled, you have Lo'ak a side eye, why did he have to be such a blabber mouth. "It wasn't anything serious me and Amhel used to do it all the time back home." You say putting your hand on your hip. "Okay we'll talk about that later but you jumped off a cliff that was over fifty feet in the air, what the fuck is wrong with you." Clenching your teeth, "Nothing is wrong with, I'm sorry I'm not an uptight asshole and like to have fun." You say suddenly feeling defensive as to why he asked what was wrong with you. "Don't curse at me and that's not fun you could have killed yourself." He yelled and you only rolled your eyes. "No more riding Amhel." He said and your face dropped. "What t-thats not fair." You protest before your father clicks his tongue. "Fine." Was all you said before storming up to your room of the pod.

It had been a little past eclipse and your shoulders felt heavy and that question ran through your mind over and over again, "What the fuck is wrong with you." Your father's words never stuck but this did. Your hands shaked you jumped out from under the hand-made blanket your mother gave you. You tiptoe over to your bag and rummage through it and you found it. You bit your lip as you looked at the blade. You sit on your cot and grabbed the blanket you were previously covering up with, putting it between your teeth you bit down, now you look at the blade and you press it onto your upper arm, pressing down hard you guide the blade down you sighed and bite the blanket because of the pain, but the more pressure you put into the cuts the more mental relief you felt. You dropped the blade and looked at your hand you held it so hard it cut through your fingers.

You let the blanket slip through your teeth and your breath was heavy and then you look up and your eyes were met with ones of your mother. You gasp. Flipping the blanket over your arm and hide the blade. Neytiri walks closer bottom lips shaking, "Show me." She demands and you only look away wiping the tears away from you face. "Show me." She says this time a little harsher. "Fine mom, you wanna see!" You say loudly getting up and the balde falls to the ground, you show her what you had just did, then you ripped the bandages you had on your thighs and then your hands. "Is this what you wanted to see." You say crying. Neytiri tilts her head as she falls to the ground. "My baby, my daughter my special girl." She cried out holding the blade throwing it across the room. "Mom don't cry." You say holding yourself looking from your mother's broken figure.

Neytiri was gasping through her tears, "Was it me was it Jake, did we do something, did we do something wrong I know we haven't been the best parents but I tried to protect you I-"

"No it's not you or dad it's me I'm fucked up, I'm fucked up but it's not you mom it's not you." You say falling to the ground next to her. She looks at you and holds your arms, going over every scar she helped heal and guilt fills her. You cry watching her reaction and then she brings you close, "It's okay my special baby, my sweet girl." She coos rocking you back and forth as your tears soak her chest. "I'm sorry mama I'm sorry."

"nothing to be sorry for my sweet." She said guiding you back to the bed holding you she pressed sweet loving kisses to your wrist. "Nothing wrong my sweet girl." She whispered holding you as she did when you were a child and your cries softened and your eyes began to get heavy for the first time you felt loved, you felt safe.

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star-girl69 · 5 months

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Fade Into You

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!AphroditeCabin!Reader

—-

sypnosis: you fell first, but clarisse fell harder. requested by anonymous!

a/n: decided to feed y’all today….. two fics i’m a monster that just creates and creates. this was so funny bc i kept accidentally writing angst and i had to stop myself. they’re allowed to have crushes on each other. it’s ok. this was hard anyways i hope you all enjoy!!

Fade Into You - Mazzy Star

warnings: just so cutesy, swearing, mentions of violence, mentions of blood and injury, soft clarisse i looooovvvvveeeeee you, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

Your chest heaves. You’ve never ran that fast or that far before in your life. Your satyr protector runs ahead to get the healers, and you crash against some random building- a tool shed, maybe?

You groan, crouching down to clutch at your lower leg sporting a large gash running blood. You don’t remember how it happened. Maybe it was when you fell? You could have sliced it open on an unfortunately sharp stick.

You don’t even want to think about the fact that the stupid monster thing chasing you could have gotten close enough to claw at you.

“Hey, hey,” someone says, crouching down next to you. She’s wearing an orange shirt. Her hair is curly, her eyes are pretty and brown, and oxygen isn’t getting to your brain so she kind of seems like an angel. “Oh, wow,” she mutters, looking at your leg. “One second, ‘kay?”

“Wait,” you say, grabbing onto her forearm. She looks up at you.

“I’m going two steps away, dummy.” She laughs, and you’ll remember that sound for the rest of your life.

She leaves you, and you almost want to cry because you feel so alone. You’ve just been told you’re a demigod, then you were forced to run through the woods, your heart is still hammering and your leg fucking burns.

But she was right. It was only two steps, and she comes back, the door of what must be some sort of storage shutting behind her.

She leans back down and presses a towel against your gash.

You hiss.

“Sorry,”

“You’re not.” She laughs again. More beautiful music in your ears.

“I’m not,” she agrees.

You fall into silence, it’s so dark out, but you can see everything about her so clearly.

“You can stop breathing so heavily,” she whispers, the shouting of your satyr protector getting closer, along with what must be the healers. “Camp Half-Blood is surrounded by a magical barrier. You’re safe here. Well, at least, no monsters are gonna get you.

“O-okay,” you mumble. You aren’t sure if you believe her. You don’t think you believe anything anymore.

The healers push her away, you’re so so tired, and she stands up, dusting off her hands.

“Thank you, Clarisse,” one of the healers says. “We’ll take it from here.”

Clarisse.

—-

The purpose of Clarisse La Rue’s entire existence seems to be to drive you insane.

The way her arms flex when she wields her spear, the way she lifts her shirt up to dab at sweat on her brow; and the way you can see her toned stomach and the faintest hint of abs you would actually kill to touch. The way she smiles, even though it’s never really genuine, and the way she laughs when she’s making fun of someone.

She was the first person you met at camp, and you’re pretty sure she doesn’t even remember it, yet alone know your name.

It was ironic, as the daughter of Aphrodite, to be quietly pining over someone from the distance. And it sucked, but maybe you would just always have this quiet crush on Clarisse, and you learned to take it like you took your breakfast.

Until the start of this summer, when everyone came back to camp, it was alive again, and it all changed. And now you’re fucked.

—-

You smile, watching a few of the younger campers scream about how amazing the lake is. Summer’s just started. It’s so beautiful this time of year. They didn’t have as traumatic experiences as you, no monsters chased them right up to the barrier of camp. The lake is huge and so blue it seems otherworldly- probably because it is.

You slam into something.

It’s an awkward flare of limbs and muttered obscenities, but you manage to keep yourself upright by falling back into a very convenient tree.

“Sorry,” you say, looking up and expecting to make eye contact with anyone but her.

You haven’t been face to face with Clarisse in four years. You mouth snaps shut, and you’re sure you look like a terrified deer in headlights.

She’s frozen just like you.

“W-watch where you’re going,” she hisses, pushing you farther into the tree as she walks past you.

Did Clarisse just stutter?

—-

Clarisse stares at you.

You blush like you’re about to turn into a flamingo.

The cycle repeats.

—-

This year, the Ares and Aphrodite cabins were paired together to share the field for sword practice just before dinner. The sun is hidden by the trees, providing some nice shade as you frown at all the Ares kids sparring like their lives depend on it.

While Aphrodite kids are not the most naturally skilled in fighting, you’re still demigods, and you still have to know how to protect yourselves.

Matty, a Ares child and your sister Tyla’s boyfriend, already sparred three times, winning against his siblings, then sparred with Tyla once; which just ended with her getting bored after a minute and dropping her sword before jumping into his arms.

You watch random people spar. Everyone moves around you, Tyla and Matty are on top of each other next to you on the bench, everyone walks around you to collect their water bottles from the table behind you.

“Aren’t you gonna spar, Y/N?” Tyla asks, fiddling with Matty’s hands.

“No,” you laugh.

“That’s against the rules.”

You know that voice, you hear that annoyingly angelic voice in your dreams.

Clarisse sits down next to you. You can hear Tyla smiling. Only a few of your siblings who can be trusted to keep a secret know about your wretched crush. You’re probably blushing.

“Uh, what?” you say, looking in her direction but not risking actually looking at her.

“You have to spar,” she says, like it’s painfully obvious, kicking out her legs.

“I’ll do it tomorrow,” you shrug.

“Sounds like you’re scared, Y/N,” Matty muses.

You shoot him a bored look. “Sounds like you’re whipped, Matty.”

Tyla is currently in Matty’s lap, her hands in his hair.

“Oh, definitely,” he says, turning towards Tyla with a sweet smile on his face and she coos and immediately attaches her face to his.

“Oh, Gods,” you mutter, turning away from the two of them having borderline sex on the bench.

Clarisse laughs.

You clench your fist, you feel like you’re gonna explode being so close to her and not able to climb up into her lap and kiss her like a woman starved.

“You still have to spar, you know.”

“Are you going to tell on me?”

“Hm, no. I won’t have to.”

You finally look towards her, if only because you’re confused, but she’s looking straight out at the the distance, where a certain centaur is making his way to the fields-

“Oh, fuck,” you hiss, immediately jumping up and scrambling for a sword from the pile behind you.

You turn around, hoping one of your siblings is free so you can spar with them-

The sword is ripped out of your hands.

“That one sucks,” Clarisse says, simply, while you stand there with your mouth open. She rifles through the swords. “Use this one instead.”

The one she hands you does seem a lot easier to hold. Not too heavy, not too light.

How the hell could she tell which one is best for you just by looking at you?

“Matty,” Clarisse says. “Chiron’s coming.”

Tyla and Matty both hop up, giggling at they make their way towards one of the marked circles.

As you’re left there with Clarisse, it suddenly hits you that after four years of simple indifference, she’s talking to you like she knows you. Or like she wants to know you.

You like her too much to question it. You want her too much to be bothered as to why she’s giving you five minutes of her time.

Clarisse walks away. You thought it was going to happen, so your heart feels this sort of heavy that is indescribable, but she turns around.

“Are you coming?” she asks, deadpan.

“Oh. Uh, yeah,” you say, sticking your sword under your arm and cracking your knuckles. With Chiron showing up, she leads you to the marked circle all the way at the edge of the field, the start of the woods, the very last one.

She stops and turns around, this sort of nonchalant but smug look on her face. She reaches forward and bats your hands away from each other with a single swat that leaves you so shocked from the feeling of her skin on hers that your hands fall to your sides.

“Stop that. You’ll hurt ‘em.”

Here, right in front of the trees, the sun shining through the gaps shines off of Clarisse’s tan skin and her bronze armor in a way that makes her look otherworldly.

Clarisse’s that kind of pretty where you just never want to stop staring at her. The kind of pretty where you just want to fade into her and be next to her; the kind of pretty where nothing compares to her but it just watches her too.

Like the sun behind her, it isn’t jealous, it just admires her and shines off her skin.

She’s smirking at you, her knees bending into an offensive position, her spear pointing at you.

“He’s watching,” she taunts, and you’re really not in the mood for a lecture and the loss of dessert privileges, so you copy her.

“I’m not the best-”

She spins forward, spear arcing toward you. You yelp, raising your sword up to block her spear. They slam together.

“You’ll do fine,” she smiles, so smug in a way that makes you want to slap her and kiss her all at once.

“Whatever,” you mumble as she pulls back.

But you feel a little more confident with her praise, launching a surprise attack. She seems a little shocked, but she blocks it, probably a bit closer than normal.

“Feisty,” she murmurs.

“What the hell does that even mean?”

She launches her own attack, more force behind it this time, and it’s harder to stop her, but you do, you push her back.

“It means you’re exactly like I thought you were.”

You frown, because what is she even saying, but she launches another attack, smiling brightly as you block it, her eyes never leaving your form.

It’s a blurry of your heartbeat in your ears, her smile, the clash of her spear and your sword, the rest of the field coming to life with the sound of metal on metal, wins and losses.

Your arm is growing heavy.

But you keep your eyes open, blocking her attacks and waiting for an opening you’re not sure will ever come.

Finally, she reveals her side, and you swing, your sword clanging as it hits her metal armor.

She looks down at your sword and then you.

When she looks up again, it’s never the same.

—-

“Did you let me win that first day?”

You’re in the woods with her, so many months after that first day, and it all still feels like it was yesterday. You’re laying on a blanket on the soft grass, facing each other, limbs tangled together and her arm around you.

“Hm?” she says, slightly sleepy.

“When we sparred?”

“Oh,” she smiles, yawns. “Yeah, I let you win.”

You gasp and hit her arm.

“Clar, that’s, like, horrible. Our relationship was built on lies.”

You’re the only person allowed to call her that.

She frowns. “It wasn’t. What are you talking about?”

“I was gloating over you for months, and you let me-”

“Okay, but, you still won. I just helped you a bit. That’s what a good girlfriend should do.”

“You were not my girlfriend then.”

“Yeah, but you wanted me to be. For how long? Four years?”

You roll yours eyes. “You bumped into me once and then became obsessed with me.”

She smiles against you as she kisses your forehead.

“Who wouldn’t?” she snorts. “Not my fault you bumped into me in a way no one else ever has, angel.”

“My love language is just bumping into people, I think.”

“Then you can’t bump into anybody but me. Or else I’d kill them, probably.”

“A true romantic.”

She wraps her arms around you, muscles flexing as she pulls you on top of her.

“Only for you, angel,” she says, eyes falling closed again. “‘M cold, be my blanket.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be all rough and tough?”

“Can’t be with you,” she yawns. “Love you too much. Now shush. I’m gonna fall asleep.”

“You big baby,” you mumble. “Big bad Clarisse needs to fall asleep with her girlfriend and get her full eight hours or else she’ll go on a rampage.”

“Damn right.”

Clarisse is the type of pretty that just makes you wanna fade into her. And you do, in the light of the rising moon, the light of the fading sun. You fade into her.

—-

y/n when clarisse helps her on her first day: wow, an angel 😍😍

clarisse when y/n bumps into her: wow, an angel 😍😍

ALSO CLARISSE CALLING Y/N ANGEL???? I THINK I’VE FOUND MY NEW OBSESSION Y’ALL

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x you #pjo tv show #pjo x reader

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shinynewboots · 2 months

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Listen to your Heart: Adam x pregnant!reader

AN: Lol I enjoyed writing this wonderful prompt for @madmiriam! I wasn't sure exactly what direction I wanted to take with this but fluff felt the most appropriate (lol all it takes is one comment though for me to write a pt 2 with smut bc I lowkey can see the vision now). I hope y'all enjoy! The prompt kept getting away from me so I tried to reel it in as much as I could so please bear with me lol

Warnings/tags: Pregnancy, reader's death/graphic details (backstory), cursing, guilt, sickeningly sweet fluff, slice of life, no beta we die like Adam

Note: S1 and S2 refer to the heart sounds heard in a normal cardiac cycle (think lub, dub).

Part 2 (18+)

You had never given much thought to how your second "life" would turn out. Avoiding exorcists on extermination day? Sure, that was to be expected. Working the same job you had worked when you were alive? Eh, that made sense, the hospital you worked at when you were alive was basically hell on earth most days.

Falling pregnant with a fallen angel's baby? Absolutely not.

You had freaked out a bit at first when you found out. You had been a doctor for fuck's sake. You should have been smarter. Except for the whole "being dead thing", which you assumed meant reproduction was off the table. Which it was, in most cases. Except for—

"Angelic Sperm," Adam said when you told him you were pregnant.

"What?" Of all the things you had expected him to say, this was not it. You had expected him to grow angry or childish, as you had known him prone to doing.

"Angelic Sperm." He repeated again, giving you a curious look.

"Adam you can repeat that all you want but that doesn't mean I know what you're talking about."

"Angelic Sperm. I think that's the only way for a sinner to get pregnant in hell. I mean, think about it, Princess of Hell is technically half-angel, half-sinner. And you've got sinners fucking all the time without getting knocked up. Come on, Y/N, weren't you a doctor?"

Adam scratched his head in contemplation, taking in this new information. You looked over at him in anger.

"I tell you I'm pregnant and all you can talk about is sperm?"

Adam looks over at you, a calm look on his face. He takes you into his arms, more gently than he ever had, and pulled you close to him. He kissed the top of your heard, his lips lingering far longer than they normally would.

"I'm so fucking excited, Y/N."

And so now you found yourself 5 months pregnant in Hell. You had begun to wear baggy clothes to not show your swollen stomach. You couldn't imagine what some sinners or overlords would do if they found out there was actually a way to get pregnant in an otherwise barren wasteland.

Adam had been very attentive to you in your pregnant state. You still had to work at the local hospital, trying to get in as many shifts as possible before the birth. When you'd gotten of work, Adam would always have some kind of food craving awaiting you, and together you would rot on the couch until it was time for bed and the day to start all over again.

There was one such time of rotting that you had found yourself lying on the couch beside Adam, on of his hands dropped across your waist and a hand lightly holding your baby. Baby, which Adam had begun to affectionately call "Little Hellion", was kicking happily in against your bladder.

You grimaced at the sensation, your body tensing against Adam. Sensing your discomfort, he kissed your forehead and pulled you tight. "Living up to your name, Hellion."

"They get it from their dad," You replied, your breath becoming more even as Hellion decided to turn their kicking attention elsewhere. Adam rubbed circles around your stomach, which seemed to appease Hellion.

"What are we going to do about after? I can't even imagine trying to raise a child in Hell, constantly on edge even more than usual." You finally asked, a question burning in the pit of your stomach for months. Hell was no place for a child. Would the baby even age? Sinners stopped aging from the moment they died. The Princess of Hell aged, though slower than a human would, but you didn't know what that meant for your baby. And other sinners would notice if they aged. Questions would be asked...questions that would be dangerous to answer.

Adam sighed and ran a hand through his soft, brown hair. "I've been thinking about that too. I think we need to go to the hotel."

You turned to look at him, your brow furrowed. "The Hazbin Hotel? Where you got fucking murdered?"

Adam laughed without humor. "Fucking insane right? And it's such a lame-ass place. But, I have to think about my family. You and Hellion are my family now, Y/N."

Warmth spread throughout your chest, Adam's confession taking you by surprise. He was rarely so vulnerable with you, mostly choosing to hide behind his mask of bravado and masculinity. You smiled at him. Hellion seemed to approve of his words as well because you received a sharp kick in your side.

"I think we should try and see if Hell Princess' redemption plans are even worth a shit. And even if they aren't, she, or Hell forbid fucking Lucifer, might have a better shot at getting in contact with Heaven than I do."

"Heaven? You want us to try and get into Heaven?" You shivered at the thought. You felt...dirty. Unclean. Unworthy of redemption. You had been sent to Hell for a reason and felt you would always serve your sentence.

"We have to try everything, Y/N. I...I have to try everything." Adam looked desperate, his golden eyes shimmering in a way you had never seen.

Adam kissed your forehead and continued rubbing circles around your stomach. He began to softly sing a Rolling Stones song you couldn't remember the name of.

And that was how you found yourself at the front door of the Hazbin Hotel, face-to-face with Lucifer of all people.

"Ooh, not sure if there are any rooms left in the inn. Might have you stay in the stables. I'm sure we have a manger or two for your convenience."

"I'm sorry, are you seriously making a Jesus joke right now?" You deadpanned as you stared at the King of Hell with an unamused expression. You had a hand on your stomach and you could feel Adam tense beside you.

"Get the fuck out of our way, Morningstar, your kid told us she would meet us here."

"Daddd!" Charlie yelled, running closer to the group at the front door. "I told you to let me answer the door!"

Lucifer at least had the grace to look sheepish. He moved behind Charlie, who happily welcomed you and Adam inside.

She grinned at you as she led you both to your room. "Congratulations by the way! So sorry about my dad, he always likes to try and push Adam's buttons."

"Fucking pussy," Adam muttered. You shot him a glare. "Stay away from him as much as you can."

"And ugh, Congratulations by the way! Adam told me all about it when he came to meet with me about you both joining the hotel! This is so exciting! And we have so many crafts and exercises and —"

"Hey, one fucking step at at time, Princess." Adam interrupted, sensing you tense at Charlie's words.

Charlie nodded and looked at you apologetically. "Sorry, I just get a little over-excited! We are so happy to have you here."

You smiled up at her softly. "We really appreciate you for letting us come to the hotel."

That night, you both lay in bed in your new home as you began your paths of redemption. Your head was on Adam's chest and you listened to the constant beat of his heart. Listening to the beat of the heart or pulse had always had a calming effect on you, even when alive. S1, S2, S1, S2, S1, S2

"Adam what if you get redeemed, and I—I don't. And I ruin everything. I don't deserve to be in Heaven."

"Why would fucking think that, Y/N. You deserve it more than anyone I know." He asked, his voice full of surprise.

"Because I killed someone!" You exclaimed, tears rolling down your eyes. "I was stupid and I killed someone and now I am meant to rot in Hell for all eternity. And I've damned our kid to this."

Adam wiped one of the tears that had begun to roll down your cheek. "And you don't think I have? Do you know how many sinners I've killed? Happily?"

"Adam, it's different."

"Try me."

You swallowed hard. "I was coming off of a 24-hour shift at the hospital. I was so tired. So fucking tired. And I knew better than to drive home. But my apartment was just 20 minutes away. And I thought it would be okay. I could have slept for an hour or two in the on-call room but I was so ready to get home."

Tears began streaming down your face at full force. Adam pulled you closer, surprisingly silent. "And then I fell asleep behind the wheel. I was only a mile from my house. I crashed into another car that had a mom and her kid in it. They died on impact. I was still alive, just barely, and bled out in my car before EMS could arrive."

"Y/N, you made a mistake. Fuck, I've made even more than that, definitely worse too."

"I just don't think I'm worthy of heaven."

Adam kissed your forehead and continued to hold you close. "Most of those fuckers who make it to Heaven aren't worth even half of you. You deserve Heaven. Shit, you owe it to yourself and Hellion to try."

"I'm just so scared Adam."

"I know. But we will take this one step at a time. Trust me, babe." He put a hand on your stomach. That had been one of his favorite things to do since the early days of your pregnancy. And Hellion seemed to know when their father was near, as you would get what you assumed were happy kicks in the direction of Adam's hand.

You nodded, cuddling in closer to him. One of his wings furled around you, creating a blanket for you and Hellion. You felt safe; warm. More so than you could remember feeling in a long time.

Everything would work itself out. And you and Adam would be redeemed just in time for Hellion to be born inside the pearly gates.

You found yourself focusing on Adam's heart once more.

S1, S2, S1, S2, S1, S2

Everything would be okay. It had to be.

#hazbin hotel reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel fandom #habzin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam x pregnant reader #pregnant #fanfiction #hazbin adam x reader #adam x reader

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thehusbandoden · 6 months

Note

Can you do hcs about class 1-a with pregnant darling? It's fine if you can't!/Uncomfortable with it!

A/n: of course! I hope these were semi enjoyable lol <3

Pregnant Reader Headcannons Part 2 (Aizawa, Shoto, Shinso, and Tamaki)

General info:

Genre: fluff/slice of life \\ total wc: 1,876 \\ posted: 12/06/2023 \\ requested

Part 1 (Izuku, Bakugo, Kiri, Denki, and Sero)

Aizawa Shota (707 words):

Aizawa always works hard, as we all know.

He not only teaches, but he also works as a pro hero during the night.

He's sleep deprived and very grumpy.. but not to you.

He's sweet and loving, though sometimes tsundere.

He spoils you with gifts and affection whenever he can, trying to slightly make up for the time away from one another.

When he finds out you're pregnant.. he's honestly scared.

He works so much.. how could he ever take care of a child? Not to mention the long and hard nine months you're going to have to face practically alone.

He doesn't show his worry however, he holds you close and kisses your face, reassuring you that everything is going to be okay and that he's happy.

He tries to get paternity leave about four months into your pregnancy, but he didn't actually get it until six months.

And that was from teaching.. he was still working in the middle of the night until you hit eight months.

He was exhausted.

He would wake up at seven, prepare his lesson, make you breakfast, clean up the house, and write you a love letter for you to find. (He secretly placed them in places easy to reach/find).

Afterwards, he goes back to bed and cuddles you until he has to get up again in a few minutes.

Whenever he has to leave you get really sad and it makes him feel so guilty.. especially if you cried or begged him to stay.

He gave you lots and lots of kisses, holding you tightly against him as he apologized, telling you that he would be home before you knew it.

He taught as best as he could even though he hardly got a few hours of sleep, and he graded papers and planned lessons whenever he was on break.

Sometimes he didn't even eat lunch, too busy focussing on his student's papers.

After school he picked you up a gift and wrote you yet another love letter.

He usually returned home with a bouquet of flowers, a treat you've been craving, something to do with one of your hobbies, and a letter full of love.

He'd wrap you in his arms, coddling you with kisses and praise.

The rest of his day was full of you, and only you.

He held you, kissed you, spoiling you in whatever way possible.

He couldn't really sleep well, unable to rest his eyes when you were laying next to him so.. vulnerable.

He usually watched you sleep as he waited for midnight.

When the clock hits midnight he starts to get ready for work, giving you a loving peck every time he passes your sleeping form.

He'll gently shake you awake when it's time for him to leave, telling you that he'll be back in a few hours and that he loved you.

He embraced you tightly, littering kisses up and down your face before giving you a long, proper kiss. Smiling at how you sleepily kissed back.

He left with one more 'I love you', and then he was off to go patrol the streets.

He actually gets off work an hour before he says he does, but he uses that time to get the rest of the papers for his students done.

He gets home about six am, showering before embracing you tightly.

He'll sleep with you for another hour before getting up about an hour later to get everything else done.

All in all he does his very best for you, and absolutely spoils you when he gets paternity leave.

You don't have to do anything but sit there, look pretty, and let your body make that baby.

I'd say he's fairly protective. He doesn't like anyone but 'his' people, and you are the one person who he would do anything for... and maybe Eri, but she comes later.

He intimidates anyone who dares make you uncomfortable.

Though if you're handling well than he'll watch behind you, smirking slightly.

All in all he's a selfless husband. He'd do anything for you, and he doesn't care if that means he gets even less sleep..

(He'll lie about the hours of sleep he's getting so you don't have to worry about him)

Todoroki Shoto (537 words):

Shoto always wanted kids, but he was too afraid to turn out like his dad.

So he never mentioned them, and you didn't either.

Well until you found out you were pregnant.

You were kinda scared to tell him at first, afraid that it would trigger ptsd from his childhood or something.

WEll, luckily for you, he wasn't upset.. at all.

He was nervous, yes. Really nervous, but he was excited and happy.

After a few minutes of staring at the test, thinking about what it meant, he pulled you into a tight embrace, lovingly kissing the apple of your cheek.

He got paternity leave at about five months.

He followed you everywhere, too worried about the 'what ifs' to let you do anything by yourself.

He wouldn't let you carry anything if it was remotely heavy.

Very protective, but in a lot less obvious way.

IF he notices someone looking at you in a lustful way he'll pull you into his chest, placing a hand on your baby bump as if he was screaming at them 'she's taken'.

If it came down to it, he would physically defend you.

But unlike Bakugo, only if he really needed to.

He'll glare and he'll tell them that you're married, but he won't physically harm them unless they started it, or they touched you/got into your space.

He gets really clingy, but he only hovers over you because he's too scared to hurt you and baby.

He'll usually cuddle you if you reassure him that he won't hurt you -or baby-, but he does get really really insecure sometimes and starts to overthink.

Most of the time the only way to pull him out of that is to be upset about it.

If you get really sad/angry he'll hold you against him, apologizing softly.

He'll help you however he can.

But he can't cook..

He literally almost burned the house down... twice.

He tried and tried, but he just can't seem to make anything but cereal.

So instead he hires you a chef.

He massages your feet, shoulders, back, belly bump, anywhere you need it.

You get a daily dose of cuddles and kisses. That isn't negotiable.

One day you were feeling very uncomfortable and didn't want any touch.. you left bed before Shoto and rejected his kisses.

He literally thought that you hated him.

He let you have your space, but he was so freaking sad.

He was angry too, but only at himself.

He started overthinking, thinking that he wasn't good enough, that he worked too hard, and that you deserve someone better.

The thoughts went on and on until he couldn't take it anymore.

HE shyly went over to you, gripping the bottom of his shirt tightly like a child, his head downcast and tears shining in his eyes.

"D-do you.. hate me?" He asked quietly, a tear falling down his cheek.

Your heart broke and you burst into tears, pulling him onto the couch next to you, holding him close as you sobbed, apologizing and telling him how perfect he was and how much you loved him.

He didn't believe you until you repeated it like five times and gave him over three dozen kisses.

He's still partly broken from his past, so even little things like that can make his brain go into overdrive, and he starts to get insecure.

That aside, he's a very sweet, thoughtful, and loving husband.

Shinso Hitoshi (165):

You both already stayed indoors most of the time, but this just cemented it.

He was a protective overthinker. He didn't want anything bad to happen to you.

He doesn't like many people, but when it comes to you he would literally kill for you.. even if that ruins his newly gained reputation.

He got paternity leave about four months into your pregnancy, spoiling you for the long five months afterwards.

He'd glare at anyone who stared at you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders to bring you closer to him.

If it came down to it he would use his quirk to get any creep far away from you.

You usually cuddle all day. It's actually pretty calming.

He takes care of you entirely, cooking, cleaning, the works.

He's amazing at foot massages.

He gets more sleep now because all he does is cuddle you.

He's not very good with helping you with your hormones, but the affection make up for it.

Amajiki Tamaki (430):

Tama is so freaking cute.

He's still shy ofc, but he musters up the courage to protect you.

He will get physical if it comes down to it.

But only if they start to try and touch you.

He's honestly so sweet.

He's so happy and yet so scared.

Out of everyone, he's most definitely the one that over tinks the most.

He worries about everything from him being a terrible parent to his kid getting his anxiety and hating him for the rest of their life because they're being bullied.

He starts to think about birthday parties and prom. What about his child's wedding?! They're father is going to be a mess!

Not to mention labor?!

What if he passes out?

What if you start to hate him?

What if you leave him? What if he fails you and your child?

His thoughts grow darker and darker as he falls into a pit of despair.

He'd probably grow into a depressive and if you don't snap him out of it.

Pull him into your arms, give him a long, proper kiss, and then just cuddle him.

Hold him to your chest, whispering sweet things in his ear.

He'll be better within 5-40 minutes.

Whenever you breakdown because of your hormones he'll break down with you.

He tries to be strong but seeing you cry breaks him.

He'll hold you, trying to reassure you as he's breaking down too.

He'll get your cravings whenever he can.

Even if it's two in the morning, or in broad daylight where he has to deal with a lot of people..

Like Shoto, he thinks you hate him if you get upset with him.

Though unlike Shoto, he won't come to you. He continues to take care of you, but he's obviously reserved.

He won't ask for cuddles, or even move to lay beside you.

He keeps to himself and when he's not taking care of you he's across the room, staring at the floor.

He could go on for weeks if you don't catch him.

He's a sensitive sweetheart, and he does need to be taken care of too.

Oh oh, he's also super good at cooking.

Due to his quirk, he's tried a lot of meals and cooks often.

If you want to try another recipe he'll secretly work on it for days, before shyly giving it to you to try.

He's very very insecure, so he trusts you a lot to let you try new recipes of his.

He loves you a lot, and the one thing he wants is your happiness and love.

~~~~~

Part 1

Masterlist | Navigation | You can tip me here <3

Aizawa's masterlist | Shoto's masterlist | Shinso's masterlist | Tama's masterlist

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated <33

~~~~~~

Do not copy, repost, nor plagiarize my work. Ask before you translate or use my work in any way -minus reblogging.

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adonis-koo · 1 year

Text

sweet nothing • 1

( in which you prove to be far more trouble he thought you'd be )

↳ Description: being a guest at the Jeon Estate after a mishap of being kidnapped and dragged into your brothers affairs isn’t all that bad. Truth be told it brings you a lot closer to the mobster and owner of the estate Jeon Jungkook himself.

His two rules are simple, don’t cause trouble and don’t give him a hard time. Somehow you manage to constantly do both in the most endearing way despite being pregnant and waddling around most of the time.

↳ Pairing: Jungkook/reader, ???/reader

↳ Genre: slice of life AU, mafia!AU, pregnancy, there’s like…a little bit of a plot but not a lot, future smut? maybe? it's very domestic!

Word Count: 4.6k

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Note: the crowd is booing so loud at the sight of pregnancy but I don’t care!!! slice of life makes my head go brrr. lol in all seriousness I hope you all enjoy this lil story! It’s just a mini series that is super domestic and light hearted! it popped into my head and I had to write it down so enjoy! also this hasn't been proofread, we die like men

The room was suffocatingly silent.

Jungkook had ignored it promptly though, leaned back in his leather chair, hair dusting over his eyes slanting his view, but his sight couldn’t be more accurate then it already was.

This was not what he had asked his men to do.

“I…” Your voice scratched, trying to find something to say, not only had you been kidnapped a mere hour ago, but now you had been brought into your captor's home and taken to him directly.

Your throat tightened as your heart beat frantically, you couldn’t be scared right now, you needed to take action before it was too late, “I understand why I’m here but please,” You looked up at him earnestly, “I…I’m due in early December. You can sell me off, keep me here, do what you want with me but please, Mr Jeon, give my baby a chance."

Your eyes blurred at just the thought, your hands hugging over your swollen stomach. You had been so shaken up the whole time that it hadn’t even occurred to you how fast this had all happened.

It was late and you had been worried your brother found himself in trouble again, one minute you were getting ready to phone him, the next the door was smashed open to men in suits, guns in the air and tearing the whole apartment up.

You were taken as…what you could only assume was collateral, you knew who Mr Jeon- you had informally met before.

Your brother had been paying him ransome for protection against…well…You supposed there was no reason to bother recounting everything. You were here now, in front of Jeon Jungkook, who looked less than pleased at the moment.

What made you worried however was his continued silence, he was never a man of many words, or at least that's the impression you had always gotten when your brother and him would meet.

Jungkook shifted in his chair, his lip visibly twitched before he muttered, “Get her out of here.”

You felt your stomach lurch as you were yanked out of your chair with a yelp, “In one piece.” Jungkook added with an annoyed glint in his eye.

The grip on your arms was relaxed immediately before you were jostled out of the room leaving it in silence once more.

“It was the best we could do Sir,” Yeonjun spoke, crossing his arms behind his back, “We searched the whole apartment but Wonho was gone. We took her for collateral until he’s found.”

Jungkook looked more visibly angry, “You brought me a pregnant defenseless woman.” He stood up in his chair, “What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?”

Yeonjun lifted his hands, “Send a message out to Wonho, tell him we have his sister and we’ll see if he actually has a soul and gets the money to save her.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Jungkook challenged, his eyes brewing hellfire as he inhaled sharply, Yeonjun had wisely chosen to not engage in his questions anymore, “I’m not going to kill her for fucks sake, even I have my limits.”

Jungkook tucked his tongue into his cheek as he leaned against the desk.

“Well we can't just release her now,” Yeonjun replied, “So what do you want me to do with her?”

Jungkook crossed his arms, his jaw clenched in anger as he shook his head in thought. Who’s bright idea was it to take her ransome? Truly? Because he knew Yeonjun wasn’t that stupid.

“Put her in a nice room, draw her a bath, offer a foot massage. She’s fucking pregnant, do I have to keep reminding you?” Jungkook hissed out as he waved his hand about.

“Noted.” Yeonjun sighed, “Anything else you wanna add to that list?”

“Yeah, if I hear about one bruise, one little fucking scrape on her, I’ll have everyone lined up and shot in the living room.” Jungkook replied, before turning around to sit back down, “Now go. I don’t wanna see anyone unless they have something about that rat that isn’t a waste of my time.”

Yeonjun nodded and said no more, leaving while his head was somehow still intact. Jungkook collapsed in his seat as he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. Wonho had fucked up more then just not paying his debts, he had leaked sensitive information to the Kim’s and it had him on extremely thin ice right now.

He didn’t need a bystander involved in this situation. Jungkook crossed his arms in thought as he leaned back in his chair, you were a familiar enough face for Jungkook to recognize, you had only met a handful of times and was never involved in more dangerous dealings your brother dealt with.

Quiet, you were considerably quiet, though Jungkook can recount a few small harmless conversations you had both made while waiting on your brother or in other circumstances that would call for something as such. But it had been awhile since he had seen you.

Obviously long enough for you to get knocked up and in the middle of a pregnancy. Jungkook exhaled as he closed his eyes, trying to ignore the stress induced headache he had.

Yeonjun was right, now that they had you it would be better to just keep you here and out of the line of fire, if they let you go now there was no telling what you would do, would you warn your brother? Would he sell you out?

Would the Kim’s have kidnapped you as well?

Jungkook had made the decision that yes, it would just be easier to keep you here at his estate, more as a guest than actual collateral because he honestly didn’t believe the idea that your brother would actually care about anyone but himself, he had proven that countless times.

Jungkook may have not known you personally, but given your display of groveling, it was evident you felt the same.

This…was not what you had expected.

Your lips parted in shock as the door shut behind you, the rooms were easily bigger than your little apartments living room, a glass chandelier hanging from the ceiling and plenty of spare space, large windows were next to the bed with tall hanging curtains and a writing desk was on the wall next to it.

Then there was the bathroom, a claw foot bathtub and fluffy towels all folded up with various shampoos and soaps on display. You had to rub your eyes twice to figure out if you had been hallucinating. Everything was…nice…

You weren’t sure what you had expected but this wasn’t it. The water was hot against your skin as you showered, a little paranoid albeit, waiting for the door to bust down once again and for them to drag you into a less nice room.

But the men never came as you laid in bed, shifting constantly to try and fall asleep.

One of the downsides of being pregnant was not being able to sleep on your stomach the way you had been, your side felt uncomfortable and your back kept cramping anytime you laid for too long on your back.

Your hand gently brushed over the bump with a sigh, you didn’t understand why Jungkook would do this. You had spoken to him a handful of times, and while you wouldn’t describe him as a charismatic person, he was polite. But you had heard the stories about him, rumors of something much darker than who you had talked to that lurked beneath.

Jungkook was a CEO of a small export company, big enough that he had well established connections in the upper socialite world but small enough that he evaded being in the spotlight of hollywood and its nosy media reporters.

He refused photoshoots or magazine interviews at whatever cost and only attended parties unless it was absolutely necessary. Or so he had somewhat jokingly recalled one evening when you both were sitting at a club bar, somewhat awkwardly waiting for your brother who had gotten busy with a prostitute after Jungkook had come later then he said.

Whether this was all true or not was beyond you.

You supposed at the end of the day you should be thankful he’s chosen to keep you alive, for now. But dread filled your stomach, after all, you were only alive on borrowed time.

It was a beautiful day outside, it was early morning but the sun was shining bright with billowy thick clouds and it was still cool outside, but within a few hours the heat would once again be scorching hot just as it was yesterday.

You had taken an extensive amount of time to take in the gardens as well, marigolds, tulips, buttercups and so many more were all around, well taken care of by the looks of it. It was gorgeous.

This, of course, was all in an effort to avoid the gaze of the person who sat in front of you on the small table on the terrace.

“You should eat,” Jungkook finally spoke, his hair was tied out of his face, giving you for the first time ever, a good look at his face. It was well sculpted with a chiseled jawline that oddly suited his rounded button-like nose.

His thick brows were pinched as if he were angry as he ate, but you at some point realized the food must've just been that good, “You’re eating for two after all.” He added, “Nothing’s poisoned, if you couldn’t tell by now.”

He gestured to his own plate, which had a serving of just about everything on the table on it, this made a weak smile tug on your lips, feeling oddly reminiscent of the few conversations you had shared before.

But this was very different.

You were definitely hungry though, you had been craving syrup and fried chicken since four in the morning and while there was no chicken on the table, there was definitely syrup that could cure one of your cravings.

Hesitantly you put a few crepes onto your plate, adding some sausage as well before drizzling syrup over them.

“How was it?”

You glanced up at him, not intentionally ignoring him, but to say you were still terrified of him was a bit of an understatement, “...What do you mean?” You finally asked, your voice no more than a whisper.

Jungkook wiped his mouth with an intricately decorated napkin, “Your room, it was rushed last night. They didn’t have time to put everything in there, you’ll be getting a wardrobe today but I didn’t know your size for maternity wear- or if that’s something you even wanted. You’ll have to discuss it with Jimin regardless.”

You stared at him blankly for a long moment as he met your eyes, “What?”

“Mr Jeon-”

“Jungkook.” His brows pinched, though this was not because of what he was eating.

You stuttered, “...Jungkook,” You corrected yourself, still somewhat uneasy, “Um…I don’t understand, anything that’s going on.”

Jungkook sighed, as if he were expecting this as he leaned back in his seat, the buttons on his black shirt clinging for dear life as his chest puffed a little to stretch, “I doubt you know anything about your brother’s where abouts,” He replied, “And truthfully I’m sure you know he could give less then two shits about you or your baby.” He paused for a moment at the smallest sight, your lips briefly quivering and then your eyes darting to your plate. You were upset, but trying to hide it. It made him internally wince, perhaps his wording wasn’t the best.

He cleared his throat as he continued, “So until this is all resolved you’ll be staying here, it’s the easiest thing to do with you at this point now that you’re involved. With your consent or against it. That’s up to you. But if you want to keep your baby safe then you’ll be smart and not try to escape.”

You glanced up at him for a long moment before your hands curled, “You’re the one that kidnapped me. And it’s somehow my fault that I’m involved in my brother's affairs that I never wanted to be a part of to begin with?”

Jungkook only curved a brow, quickly reminding you that you’re not in a position to be chastising him.

However his lack of anger surprised you, in fact he sounded the opposite, “I did not kidnap you, my men did, without my knowledge of the whole situation. They made a split second decision in bringing you here, and indirectly involving you in the matter. It was a mistake on my behalf and I apologize for it.”

You stared at him now in disbelief at his sincerity as he continued, “I’m trying to make up for it as best I can now by having you stay here. If you leave now it’s likely the Kim’s will take you hostage and see what information they can get out of you, or hell I wouldn’t put it past your brother to just sell you to them.”

“My…my brother wouldn’t-”

“We both know the truth,” Jungkook cut you off with a frown, “There’s no point in trying to comfort yourself with a lie. There’s no telling what could happen if we let you walk out that door on your own. So like I said, if you’re smart and you want to keep your baby safe, you’ll stay here. How miserable you want to make this experience is up to you, but I have no plans of making you a hostage or holding you prisoner.”

You slow began to eat, though having to hold back the urge to devour your whole plate, one bite had unleashed the monstrous appetite that had been lurking inside for the last six hours.

“And I don’t suppose you’re doing this out of the kindness of your heart,” You replied, “You have to want something in return.”

Jungkook took a large bite out of his bratwurst, “You’re right,” he nodded before taking a drink of champagne, “I want you to stay out of trouble and not make this any more difficult than it needs to be. Two requests, you think you can manage that?”

You both stared at one another for a long moment before you glanced at your plate, “I don't suppose there’s much choice is there?”

Jungkook shrugged, “Depends on your perspective, you could easily raise hell if you wanted, but I’d prefer you not. Where’s your husband? The last thing I need is someone nosing about trying to look for you. It would be better to just inform him and get things settled right away.”

Jungkook paused though at the sight of you stiffening a little, your jaw clenching as you grabbed your flute of water.

“I don’t have a husband,” You finally spoke after taking a long drink, “Or boyfriend. I work at the Bakery on main street though, they’ll want to know why I’m unable to come in to work.”

Jungkook looked curious, but he didn’t ask questions, “Very well, consider it taken care of.”

He didn’t want to pry but he was undeniably curious about your circumstances, caught up in all of this, pregnant without a husband or partner. Jungkook had never considered you the type of woman to sleep around, having always been rather shy around him but then again, perhaps it was because you had always known who he truly was.

Still though, it was rather curious indeed, and there was nothing more Jungkook enjoyed in his past time than a good mystery.

Rather than let the silence linger Jungkook asked, “How far along are you? This could be resolved in a few days, or it can take months. I’d rather make arrangements now for the later rather than be caught unprepared.”

“Twenty two weeks,” You replied, your hand pressing against your stomach as you looked down at your baby bump, a brief smile tugging on your face before it fell at the sight of Jungkook’s face, a bit confused before you weakly smiled once more, “Five and a half months. Like I said yesterday, my due date is December 13th

You had been anxious before about delivery your baby, after all, you had never done it before. But you're definitely anxious now at the idea of having to do it while being held as a guest in the Jeon Estate.

Labor was already a painful experience, you don't want to have to go through it alone in an environment like this. Jungkook only nodded though, “I’ll have my personal doctor come by and fill in the role of your practitioner for check ins with the baby. A midwife will also be on staff for check-ins as well. If you need anything else just let me know. I’ll find time during the day to see you at least once.” Jungkook checked his watch as he sat upright, “But I have to go now, business to do. Yeonjun will show you around and then Jimin will be around to talk to you in further detail about your wardrobe.”

Jungkook grabbed his satin black jacket off the back of his chair as he stood up before leaving you alone. With a sigh of relief you sunk into your chair, having not released the breath you held in until you let it out before feasting on your breakfast while thinking about his words. While this was not an ideal situation, you couldn’t deny Jungkook’s kindness.

You had been settling in for the last week and a half with an odd amount of contentment, your days were filled with a lot less physical labor then before, though you did miss going out and seeing your coworkers and interacting with regular customers.

There was a certain sense of peace the estate gave you though, you still took your daily walks in the garden accompanied by Yeonjun who had been personally assigned to oversee you and he was a rather funny person.

His humor was dry and it was even funnier watching him interact with Jungkook.

He served as good company as did a few other people you had met, Jimin being one of them, he oversaw the finances of the estate and basically kept the place running while Jungkook was off doing business, only ever bothering him when something of substantial financial sum was needed for something.

And true to his word you saw and spoke to Jungkook at least once a day as he said, either in the morning for breakfast or in the afternoon for dinner. But the talk was usually the same, either about this or that, small talk.

You supposed it wasn’t that bad, considering the situation you were in you should consider yourself lucky that Jungkook is who he is. Regardless, you didn’t feel comfortable asking him about your brother.

First off what had he done for you to be put in this position and more importantly, where had your brother disappeared to? You had no doubt many of Jungkook’s days were spent searching for him, which made you wonder, just what had your brother done?

You dismissed it from your mind, you had been trying to detach yourself from whatever consequences would eventually find your brother, after all Jungkook had a point- no matter how much it stung to hear.

You loved Wonho, you just wished for once he would put you first, that he would put anyone first, you couldn’t even remember when he spiraled down this destructive path of dealing in narcotics that got him all tangled up in gangs and inevitably, the mafia.

Just that somewhere along the way your brother had turned into a total jerk that was willing to sabotage anyone to save his own skin.

Just the reminder of the argument you had about this very topic had run through your head when talking to Jungkook, it was the reason you had chosen to stay here giving him no problems.

While you still didn’t feel comfortable because again, you weren’t exactly staying out of complete free will, you did feel safe here. For once, you felt safe. Your hand rubbed over your stomach as you aimlessly walked through the halls.

Yeonjun had an online meeting he was attending in his office which meant you were free to roam the inside of the estate of your own meanwhile, he had given you the grand tour when your first morning and yet it seemed like you were still finding new rooms.

Curiously you walked through the ballroom, or the equivalent to one, it was a grand room big enough to host an expensive party for sure. Poking your head into different doors you never knew what to expect.

Closing the last door you walked a little further before you let out a breath, grabbing your stomach at the small kick you just felt.

“You’re a little sucker aren’t you?” You winced out, the little kicks themselves weren’t painful, it was mainly your sudden back pain that had you leaning against the wall for support.

What you hadn’t expected though was for the wall to press inward before back out, revealing a hidden door.

You quickly straightened up right, back pain forgotten as your lips parted. Of course mobster Jeon Jungkook would have a hidden door in the fancy ballroom of his estate, you shouldn’t have expected less.

You opened it up as you peered inside before delight filled your face, it was filled to the brim with books and the entire wall was made up of glass giving an expanse view into the garden, and there was a wide window sill with soft cushions making up a seat.

Sliding as best you could inside the door shut behind you as you stepped further in, it looked magical in here easily, lights were strung up though they looked dusty, as if they hadn’t been used in years.

How had you never noticed this during the walks in the garden before? Sitting down you curiously nosed through books, mostly children's books oddly enough. You smiled however as your hands constantly rubbed over your tummy, a soothing habit you had developed as the bump grew.

While you still weren’t fond of the idea of giving birth here, if you had too, you were relieved to know there were supplies here that wouldn’t be horrible to utilize for your baby. You could just imagine holding them swaddled against your chest, laying against the soft pillows reading here on a rainy day.

Standing up you groaned as you grabbed your back, Yeonjun would be wondering where you were at soon, after all he said his meeting wouldn’t be long. But you would certainly keep this place in the back of your mind as somewhere to go during quiet moments in the day.

Walking back up to the wall you pressed on it before your happy expression slowly shifted.

There wasn’t a door handle.

You pressed on the wall once more, a little more forceful hoping it would latch open again but unfortunately it didn’t budge. Your heart rate immediately spiked as you tried to calm yourself down.

This is fine.

You sat back down on the cushioned window sill trying to think rationally. Yeonjun would be sure to look for you and if he couldn’t find you which means he’d call Jungkook which would mean…

Somehow the idea of that happening brought you less comfort than before. Jungkook would assume you had made a run for it and would probably not even bother to look for you.

In fact, he’d probably be relieved that you were gone and he’d no longer have to deal with you.

“What the fuck do you mean you lost her!?” Jungkook hissed out venomously and not a single man dared speak up as he glared daggers at Yeonjun who held his breath for a moment, “She’s six months pregnant how the fuck do you just lose someone who’s six months pregnant!?”

Jungkook was damn near ready to rip out his hair, he was already dealing with multiple loose ends on his part and now you were magically gone?

“Where’s the CCTV at?” Jungkook growled as he ripped his jacket off, tossing it at his chair, he was burning up and his hand was itching to grab the gun that was shoved in his back pocket.

“It’s been fried,” Jimin winced a little at Jungkook’s livid expression, “I went to check the moment I heard she was gone but it looks like someone sabotaged it just an hour ago.”

Jungkook’s lips twitched, “So what you’re saying is not only did all of you lose her, but she got fucking kidnapped in the process?” His hands curled into fists as he paced back and forth trying to not lose his cool any further as he viciously smiled, “This place is a goddamn fortress with over forty men guarding it and somehow, my CCTV footage got fried and guest got kidnapped within an hour and nobody noticed? Nobody!?”

“There’s been no signs of breaking and entering though.” Yoongi, his business partner who had been sitting there watching the whole thing finally spoke up, “If somebody got in, we would’ve got the word. It’s like you said, you have over forty men on staff here.”

Jungkook seemed to cool down a bit at his words but his tone was still sharp, “And the CCTV? What else could’ve fried it?”

“The fact that you haven’t replaced it in the last five years?” Yoongi shrugged before snorting, “Maybe a bird chewed through the wiring, maybe it shorted. Hell if I know, what I do know is that it’s not normal for you to get this worked up over something.”

Jungkook’s nostrils flared, “Because somebody’s life is on the line here. What about Y/n!? If she had left on her own there would be at least something indicating she left.”

“Then maybe she didn’t leave.” Yoongi shrugged, causing Jungkook to pause his pacing as he stared at Yoongi accusingly, “What? It’s the truth, the estate is big Jungkook, she’s only been here a week, she probably just got lost. There’s no reason to make a big deal out of this when there’s no indication that points to it being a big deal.” Jungkook looked annoyed but said nothing to him, only muttering for them all to spread out and search the estate.

It had been three hours of searching, every nook and cranny, under every bed in every closet and Jungkook had just about lost all hope as he gazed out the tall windows in the ballroom when he noticed something odd.

The door to his childhood library was stuck in an odd position, it was old and he hadn’t been in here in ages, the door used to get jammed if it wasn’t closed properly.

Luckily all it took was a little force to get open, he gave it a good shove before it clicked back into place and propped open as he peered inside. Mouth gaping at the sight of you jumping up in surprise, looking half asleep with a book in hand.

Your smile was just as guilty as the rest of you as you said, “Hi…I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever find me.”

“Out. Now.” Jungkook looked mad, but he was secretly relieved that you were safe. He’d rather you be stuck in the library by accident than having tried to make a mad dash on your own out of the estate.

Just the sight of your sulky pout let him know one thing for sure; you were absolutely not going to be able to follow his two requests, for better or worse.

#bts #bts jungkook #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader imagine #bts scenario #bts imagine #bts au #mafia!jungkook

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rubyreduji · 9 months

Text

ahegao and arousal — ljh

summary: jihoon just wanted to have a nice night watching anime with you, how was he supposed to know the show he picked was a hentai?

tags: smut (minors dni!) warnings: explicit unprotected sex, hentai, ji is kind of a perv, creampies, spanking, scratching, finger sucking, pinning, multiple orgasms wc: 3.6k an: ANON I SCREAMED WHEN I READ THIS LIKE AHHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH I LOVE YOU i made up my own anime plot for this hehe but watched wotakoi while writing bc office romance

orignal request: woozi and reader are at a sleepover and are both anime geeks but what’s playing is not anime and more hentai

Akira, long time secretary at Hayashi Corp, spends her days doing errands for her boss, Hiroshi, and keeping the office running. The mundane pace of her life is suddenly thrown for a loop when the new data analyst, Kaito, is hired.

That’s what the description of the show Jihoon picked said. It sounded like a cute little work place, slice of life romance anime at the time of Jihoon scrolling through what show to watch with you tonight. Oh how wrong he was.

Last week you hunted Jihoon down and insisted that it has been far too long since you two had a day to spend hanging out just you two, so Jihoon invited you over for an all night anime marathon. It’s no secret that you two are giant anime buffs, and so it was difficult for Jihoon to find something that both of you have yet to see. So when he came across this new anime he thought it was the perfect pick. It had an 8.7 review and tropes that Jihoon knows you enjoy, making it the perfect show to watch with you.

The show started out fine, a bit cliche but overall carrying the same cute aesthetic of all romance animes. Sure there were a few throw away fanservice bits, but Jihoon didn’t think anything of it. Until he did.

Jihoon’s ears burn as he tries to figure out where to look. He can’t look at you, that would just make him even more flustered, but staring at the TV is out of the option. Even as Jihoon stares at the wall, he can’t escape the lewd sounds playing out of the speakers. He can’t exactly tell what the characters are saying due to it being in Japanese, but from the excessive moaning and slick sounds, he can interpret it.

The show was going so well, to the point where the two of you were starting to root for a male lead, and then all of a sudden Akira is being cornered in an empty meeting room by Hiroshi (who is the wrong male lead, by the way) and their clothes are flying off and then Jihoon had to stop watching.

His curiosity gets the best of him though and Jihoon glances at the TV, just to take a quick peak, only to get a full view of an animated cock being slid into an exaggeratingly wet pussy (why is it uncensored!?). She cries out as the subtitles read, “He’s so big!~”. The image changes to the bouncing of Akira’s unnaturally large tits as Hiroshi starts to thrust into her. Above her tits is the image of her face, screwed up into a classic hentai ahegao.

Now, Jihoon is well…a man, and men have certain urges that need to be taken care of every once in a while, and Jihoon often finds himself looking to certain content to help out those urges. He of course carries shame for it and would never actually admit that he watches hentai (a lot), but it's a fact that’s hard to hide when his body is reacting to the scene the way it normally would if he was watching it alone.

You haven’t spoken a single word since the scene started, and Jihoon just prays to god that you’re not looking at him or his lap.

Now in theory, Jihoon could just turn the TV off but then that would force both of you to face the reality that you have now consumed porn together and Jihoon doesn’t think he can handle that. Just thinking about it makes Jihoon’s dick twitch even harder.

Jihoon takes a shallow breath and finally risks a glance over at you. He’s shocked at the sight. Your bottom lip is placed between your teeth, being chewed up as you stare intently at the screen. Your knees are pulled to your chest and there’s a slight gleam in your eye as you watch the scene. Is it possible that you’re…enjoying this?

Jihoon allows himself to get a better look at you, as it’s clear you’re solely focused on the show. He watches as you take a shaky breath, your thighs squeezing together as well. The sight drives Jihoon just slightly insane, and it doesn’t help you’re in the skimpiest pair of sleep shorts and a tank top, sans a bra.

You and Jihoon have been friends for a while. You two met coincidentally at an anime convention, You were cosplaying as one of his favorite characters and Jihoon made sure to get your socials. You were interested in his own socials though, noticing the OST covers he uploaded occasionally. When it was revealed you two are from the same area, you two quickly became close. Now, nearly six years later, you’re one of Jihoon’s closest friends.

The only thing is, Jihoon has a fat, massive crush on you. He has for years now. It doesn’t help that the characters you cosplay the most are either some of Jihoon’s favorites or characters who are the biggest victims of fanservice behaviors. One time you cosplayed a character who fell under both categories and that night Jihoon shamefully jerked off to the pictures you sent to him.

And now you’re here, dressed in revealing clothes, sitting on Jihoon’s couch, invested in the porn scene playing on the TV.

Jihoon eyes travel down from your face to your chest, where your tank top does a poor job of hiding your cleavage. He can see the way your chest swells with each shuddered breath. It’s clear now that you’re very into this, and Jihoon wonders for a brief second how wet your panties are.

Jihoon then quickly chides himself, looking back at the wall and away from you. That’s where his gaze stays until the scene ends. Once the show goes back to being a seemingly innocent romance anime, Jihoon finally allows himself to glance over at you. To his surprise you’re staring back at him.

“I, uh, can’t believe she’d hook up with Hiroshi,” you say, breaking the silence between you two. “Clearly Kaito is the better choice.”

Jihoon coughs, clearing his throat. “Y-yeah. It’s also kinda weird since he’s her boss…”

The conversation fizzles out quickly after that and you and Jihoon go back to watching the TV in awkward silence. Jihoon can still feel the ache in his cock as he watches the characters fumble around each other.

Jihoon can barely even focus on the show, too busy trying to think about anything that will get his boner to go down. He’s not sure what’s happening on screen when all of a sudden you start squealing.

“Oh my god Jihoon, it's happening!” You launch yourself across the couch to grab at Jihoon’s arm. He’s startled for a moment, his skin burning where your fingers dig into his flesh. He glances at the TV to see Kaito walking Akira back to her home.

You don’t let go of Jihoon as you settle down next to him, your body now pressed up against him rather than across the couch. God Jihoon swears his cock has never been so hard in his life. He’s sure the pillow placed over his lap is anything but subtle.

You’re not looking at Jihoon though, too invested in the conversation the two characters are having. Jihoon glances down at you, only to realize that was a bad choice as he’s now staring straight down your shirt at your cleavage. For a moment Jihoon thinks about how he wouldn’t mind seeing how your boobs bounce while he fucks you.

Jihoon’s still focused on you solely, when you gasp. He glances at you and then the screen to see the two characters posed in a kabedon. It doesn’t take long for the two to start making out and Jihoon can already anticipate what’s going to happen next. Your fingers dig into Jihoon’s arm before you realize what you’re actually doing. You go to pull your hand back, but you stop halfway through, your fingers just barely ghosting Jihoon’s arm.

“We can just skip this scene,” Jihoon finally says, seeing the internal conflict going on in your mind. He moves to reach for the remote but you stop him.

“N-no, it’s okay,” you tell him, in a voice that’s smaller than normal. “U-unless you don’t want to!”

“No, it’s uh, it’s fine,” Jihoon says. You give a slight nod, not moving your hand away.

You and Jihoon quiet down once more, staring at the TV, both of your cheeks warm. On screen Kaito is bending Akira over the counter, his cock pulled out and rubbing against her slit. Jihoon hears the labored breath you take, as your fingers slightly tighten on his arm.

Jihoon flits his eyes to glance at you, noticing the intrigued look back on your face. His fingers twitch on his lap as he stares down at your thighs, pushed together. The lewd sounds of moans and squelches fill the living room and Jihoon is five seconds away from getting up to go relieve himself in his bathroom.

Jihoon knows you. If something goes wrong you’ll both just brush it off and forgive and forget it. Fuck it.

Jihoon reaches out and slides his hand over your thigh. You jump a bit and Jihoon goes to pull back, but you stop him.

“No! You’re uh-, you’re fine.”

Jihoon just nods, trying to pretend like his mind isn’t reeling right now. His thumb brushes over your bare thigh, caressing the skin.

Your thighs are soft and he does his best not to full on grope the fat there. Just touching you like this has Jihoon’s cock leaking desperately in his boxers and he thinks about how good it would feel to touch in other ways as well. The swell of your breasts under his palms, his plump lips against your tender neck, his hard cock nestled inside of you.

Jihoon lets his mind wander too much, and the last image makes him squeeze your thigh hard, causing you to let out a moan.

“Fuck, Jihoon,” you mutter.

“I’m so sorry!” Jihoon shouts, quickly pulling his hand away. You’re quicker though, grabbing his hand and placing it on your upper thigh, his fingers just barely brushing against your crotch. Jihoon’s mouth goes dry.

“F-finish what you started, Ji,” you tell him, your voice thick with lust.

Jihoon gulps and nods. He moves his fingers to press against you harder and you automatically spread your thighs to give him more room. Jihoon can already feel how wet you are and he stifles a groan. You let out broken gasps as Jihoon continues to rub at your clit through your shorts.

Jihoon can’t take his eyes off you, staring at you the way the swell of your breasts heaves with each breath. Jihoon shifts his position to face you so he can reach out his free hand. It hovers over your chest for a moment before he finally pushes forward, grasping your boob in his palm. Your breath stutters before you release a low moan. Jihoon can feel the clench of your thighs around his hand.

Your pussy is dripping now, soaking straight through your panties and shorts. Jihoon’s cock is also leaking, begging to be slid into your warm walls. His cock strains against his shorts, like it’s trying to break free from the confines itself.

Jihoon groans and pulls his hands off of you and you whine. You’re not left untouched for too long though as Jihoon hooks his fingers into your waistband and starts to pull your shorts down. You lift your hips to help him out, pulling your top off your body as well. Even though your clothes did little to cover you up, seeing you fully naked drives Jihoon insane.

He stares at your slick pussy and he nearly drops to his knees then, thinking about how heavenly it would be to be in between your thighs, but his dick twitches a little too hard and he knows he has to get inside of you now. Jihoon pushes his shorts down his legs and his cock finally springs free.

“Jihoon please,” you whine and Jihoon groans. He sits back down on the couch and grabs you, pulling you onto his lap. You look pretty, perched on Jihoon’s thick, pale thighs. Your pussy rubs up against his cock and Jihoon can feel your arousal spread across his length, lubing it up.

“S-shit,” Jihoon curses. Your fingers grasp his shoulders tightly, your fingernails just starting to dig in, and the slight sting goes straight to Jihoon’s cock.

“C’mon Hoonie,” you mumble. “Just fuck me.”

That’s all Jihoon needs to properly line himself up and slam right into you. You whine loudly at the feeling as Jihoon slides right into you, your cunt already so need that there’s no resistance. Just as Jihoon expected, your walls are soft and warm as you clench down around him.

Jihoon grasps your waists, slowly guiding you up his length before pulling you back down. Jihoon can see you biting down on your lip as you roll your hips against him. He reaches up and gently pulls your lip out from between your teeth with his thumb. Before Jihoon can tell you he wants to hear your moans, your tongue darts out and licks at the pad of his thumb before you lean down and take his whole thumb into your mouth.

Jihoon’s hips buck up into you as you suck on his thumb, your tongue swirling around it. You look down at him with your sultry eyes and for a moment Jihoon wonders if you’ve wanted him just a long as he’s wanted you.

You gradually speed up your pace until you’re fully fucking yourself on Jihoon’s cock, fast and hard. You pop your mouth off of Jihoon’s thumb, finally letting your moans flow free. To Jihoon, you sound like an angel singing. As you bounce in his lap Jihoon can’t help but stare at your tits as they bounce in front of his face. He realizes that if he stares for too much longer, he’s going to cum too soon.

He leans forward and starts to pepper kissings along your neck and chest. His fingers trail up your torso until they come to your tits. He palms at your chest, hard and mean, desperate to feel you up as much as he can.

Your fingernails dig into Jihoon’s shoulders even harder, slightly dragging up and scratching him. Jihoon would never consider himself a masochist but the pain burns delightfully and suddenly he wants you to tear up his whole back.

“F-fuck, Ji~” you whine. “Your cock feels suh’good.”

Your cunt squeezes Jihoon’s cock, so close to milking him for all that he’s worth. Jihoon doesn’t bother taking his mouth off of you, just humming against your collarbone. Jihoon’s body feels like it’s burning up, the feel of your soft skin pressed against him, your warm cunt wrapped around his aching cock. If he doesn’t cum soon he’s sure that he’ll implode.

Jihoon reaches between your body and snags his finger on your clit, rubbing at the bud rapidly to get you closer to your orgasm. You gasp and whine as your hips get more frantic, breaking your steady pace.

“G-gonna cum,” you say between broken breaths. You lean down and capture Jihoon in a kiss. The feeling of your lips against his is new and Jihoon already can’t get enough of it. Jihoon pushes his tongue between your lips, licking into your mouth to taste you better.

You move your hands up to cup his face, tugging him into you even harder as your body trembles in his grip. Jihoon can feel your walls fluttering around him as you reach your high. That’s all the signal Jihoon needs to let go as well, finally letting himself spill right into your cunt. Your hips soon come to a stop and lift up off of him as your body slumps down onto his.

“You know,” you mumble into his neck, your fingers now playing with the hair on his nape, “I’ve always kind of fantasized about this happening.”

“W-what?” Jihoon asks, his mind already dizzy from his orgasm and now your words aren’t helping.

“You’re hot Ji. Like, I’ve never met an anime nerd as buff as you. You’re also just like…really nice and caring? I don’t know, ever since we met a small part of me has always wanted to fuck you.”

“Shit,” Jihoon groans. “You’re saying that we could have been fucking for years now? Baby I don’t think you know how badly your cosplays turn me on.”

“You’re gonna turn me on again,” you murmur.

“Good,” Jihoon responds. “Because I still have one more round in me.” Even after cumming, Jihoon’s cock is still hard and he easily flips you around and presses you down against the couch. Your face is now buried in the cushions as Jihoon pulls your hips up to meet his.

“S-shit,” you gasp.

Jihoon pushes his thumb against your folds, rubbing at them for a moment before pulling one to the side. Your cunt is shiny from your arousal and as Jihoon forced your entrance open, some of his cum from earlier starts to spill out. Jihoon is tempted to finger fuck it back into you, but it’s not too much of a loss when he can just give you fresh load.

Jihoon’s tip rubs up against your slit, teasing you. You wiggle your hips slightly, begging for him to put it in. Luckily, Jihoon is just as desperate as you are and pushes his hips forward, his tip easily sliding into you.

You just had Jihoon inside of you and yet the feeling of his cock rubbing up against your walls as you moaning and drooling on the couch cushions.

“So good for me,” Jihoon mutters to himself. “Fuck how do you feel ever better the second time.”

Jihoon’s hips slam into yours, rough and slow, making each stroke intentional. His grip on your hips is tight, making sure you stay in place as he fucks into you.

As much as Jihoon loves staring at your tits bouncing in his face, the view from the back is just as good. He can’t help himself as he lifts his hand up, letting his palm smack against your ass as he brings his hand back down. He watches satisfied as your ass recoils, the fat jiggling deliciously. He repeats this action a few more times until he’s sure your ass is warm and stinging from the hits.

“H-hoonie, faster, please,” you beg. You push your hips back, trying to force Jihoon to pick up his speed.

“You need more, baby?” Jihoon coos teasingly. “Want my cock to pound your little pussy?”

“Yes,” you sob out. “Need you to fuck me hard.”

“Okay baby, your wish is my command.” Like a switch flipped, Jihoon starts to plow into you, the head of his cock ramming into your g-spot with each thrust.

Jihoon slides his hand up your spine, his fingers coming up to cup around the back of your neck, and he pushes down, holding you against the couch. It’s dirty, your ass sticking up in the air as your face is squished against the cushion, but that just gets Jihoon going even more.

“You look so pretty like this,” Jihoon tells you. “Back arched just for me.”

You can’t even respond, just letting out a spew of babbles and moans. Your fingers grip onto the edge of the cushion and Jihoon wonders if it’s second nature for you to dig your nails into something when being fucked. He’ll have to test that another time, your nails raking over his back as he fucks the life out you.

For now he’ll stick to railing you into tomorrow.

“S’close,” you slur. “P-please. Need to cum.”

“Aww, you need to come? Okay baby, cream all over my cock.”

Jihoon continues to abuse your sweet spot with his cock as your body tense under him. Your cunt clenches down tight into a vice grip as you whine high pitched and loud. Jihoon rubs at your hip as you orgasm. It isn’t until you fall spineless to the couch that Jihoon allows himself to fill you up once more. He milks himself dry inside of you, making sure you’re stuffed full. Jihoon knows you’re on birth control (you’ve complained about the change in hormones to him before) but the knowledge that Jihoon pumped you full with two loads still drives him slightly insane.

Jihoon slides out of you and slumps down on the couch as well. You shuffle around so you can cuddle up into his side and press a soft kiss to his jaw.

“This was fun,” you mumble and Jihoon laughs.

“Yeah…we should do it again.”

You grin. “We should.”

Before Jihoon can say anything else, you’re both caught off guard by a loud shout coming from the TV. You both whip your heads back to the screen, it seems in the midst of your own fun you both forgot what started it all.

A smirk crosses your face as you look at Jihoon. “You know, for my next convention maybe I should dress as Akira. I think I have a blazer sitting around in my closet somewhere…”

The thought alone sends Jihoon’s mind reeling. The thought of you dressed up in a tight blazer and short skirt, knowing that the character is from a hentai. He’s not sure he would be able to keep his hands off of you.

“And who knows, maybe you could dress up as Kaito with me.” You send a wink Jihoon’s way and it’s enough to have Jihoon’s dick twitching to life a third time.

Oh yeah. He definitely won’t be able to keep his hands off of you, but something in Jihoon tells him you won’t mind too much.

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whaleofatjme1920 · 3 months

Text

Passing Autumn Nights

[Proxies (Toby, Masky, Hoodie) X GN!Reader]

[Warnings: Like, none?]

[AN: also known as the 'fuck me i just miss autumn' fic and LOVE writing slice of life things.]

[1356 words <3]

Reblogs are appreciated!

Moments like these never last forever. Fleeting, careless, and bittersweet, they remind you of a time long, long passed. The moon is rising and a chill runs through the air. It oddly warms you and reminds you of friends that pass in and out of your life just as freely, though in your past life it might have caused you minor concern.

You sit on the hood of this stupid car Toby stole. It’s sporting a giant dent in the side, and some of the paint near the tires is rusting but it’s taken care of the four of you so far. In your hand is a pack of cigarettes. You don’t smoke. You tried it once and hated it, coughing up like a crude imitation of a dragon lighting up your first attempt, and never tried again after that. They’re actually Tim’s; he wants you to hold them to help kick his habit.

Brian says it’s a sign he’s trusting you more and more. After all, no one knows Tim like him, and you trust your right hand’s judgment.

Laying in the back seat is Brian himself. His forearm is over his eyes to shield them from the harsh overhead lights in the parking lot. He smells like pine, the woods, a bit of whiskey but not too much. He’s got his back windows rolled down as he waits with you for Toby and Tim to finish whatever the hell they’re doing inside the grocery store. You all needed some cash, and Tim has ways of getting it without any suspicion raised. Whole registers, wallets, purses, things lifted without so much as a smile on his face and an oddly friendly, ‘have a nice day’ in response.

In your hands, you play with the lighter Tim also left with you. You flick it a few times before finally hearing your right hand’s voice.

“Leave it,” he hums tiredly, not bothering to move his forearm from his closed eyes. “Thing’s low enough.”

You smile softly and cap it before resting it back in your jacket pocket. For a mid October day, it’s only a little cold, which is surprising. You expected it to be chillier. Or maybe that’s just your proxy blood telling you to not register cold the way a human might. There’s scrapes all over your body, some from missions, others from training, only one from The Operator himself. You trace over the heated mark on your clothed thigh and internally wince, remembering when you upset him. “Sorry,” you apologize half heartedly as you run your thumb in slow circles over the smooth box of cigarettes. “Just get antsy waiting.”

Brian hums again in response as if to ask ‘why’, but makes no further move to press. He just smiles slightly in response to your presence. “You can always ask them how they’re doing,” he says. When you glance over your shoulder to peer at him through the windshield, he tapes at his temple. Head talk, of course.

You squint a bit across the parking lot and feel a small bout of relief wash through your system as Tim and Toby step out of the store, bags in hand from legitimate purchases, and well, you can feel the things they acquired outside of legal bounds. “No need to,” you say in response to Brian.

“Get off the hood,” Tim chides you slightly, but he makes no further move to disturb you. It’s said much like an older brother would to a pesky younger sibling.

In solidarity, and out of a love for annoying his leader, Toby haphazardly opens the trunk of the car, tosses the bags inside which earns a scowl from Tim, and then bounds over to sit on the hood with you. He leans back a bit, resting his tired body alongside yours. “Kinda crowded in there,” he says to you, knowing you’re curious about how it all went. “Bit too crowded for a Thursday at 8pm,” he muses further. He runs his fingers through his chopped brown hair, gazing at the night sky. The moon has always captivated him. Reminds him of simpler times. He likes autumn just as much as you do, and this feels like the best it’s going to get.

“What took you guys so long, then?” You inquire as you and Toby listen with half attention to Brian and Tim’s conversation. Something about future work, run of the mill proxy lifestyle things.

Toby rummages around in his pockets and pulls out a handful of dum dum lollipops he lifted. He gives you a toothy grin and nods for you to pick a flavor before he settles on blue raspberry after you’ve chosen. He crinkles the wrapper, shoves it in his pocket and then holds his hand out for you to give him your wrapper as well. He pops the sweet thing in his mouth and savors the taste before shrugging a bit, “you know Tim. That’s how it always is.” He smiles when Tim taps the windshield in slight annoyance.

“C’mon, get back in the car. We got somewhere to go,” Tim says as he starts the car up. Either you two get in, or he’s driving with you two strapped to the top of the car.

“Shotgun-!”

“Sh-oh come on,” Toby sighs in defeat as you snicker in triumph and slide off the hood of the car. You pat his shoulder and then round your way to the passenger seat, settling in and feeling oddly warmer despite not registering you were cold to begin with. You watch as Toby slouches his way to the backseat with Brian, who at first, does not want to move for the former runt. When Toby shoves him, Brian only laughs and tells him to ‘not get your panties in a bunch’.

“So, where are we going?” You ask as Tim puts the car in drive and smoothly leaves the parking lot. You’re always surprised at the places proxies end up. Right now, you’re in southern Illinois right around Ruth’s hometown. You wouldn’t tell her, but you visited her family’s farm and left a small gift. She would say it’s far too much, and even dangerous for proxy influence to be near her folks and younger siblings but The Operator’s always been fond of her. He wouldn’t hurt them. Not while she performs beautifully for him.

Tim props his left arm up on the sill of the car window, resting his head there as he drives with one hand. He’s very relaxed, preferring driving at night as opposed to dealing with everyone else when the sun is out shining. He won’t admit it either, but he loves autumn nights like these too. He watches the lights of the town start to fade as you head further south. “Stopping in a small proxy town, meeting with EJ, then Jeff is gonna tag along. Something about… a farm? Lotta farms lately,” he chuckles tiredly. “It’s kinda perfect for Halloween - I’ve never seen The Operator so fascinated with a witch before. So, that. He said he wanted us with those two, and we’ll get further directions once we’re at said farm.”

Brian clears his throat and adjusts his posture so he’s sitting up. “That farm gonna have pumpkins?” He asks. It’s surprisingly out of character for your right hand, arguably one of the most brutal proxies in your team.

Tim shrugs. “Fuck if I know.”

You laugh softly, “why? You wanna carve some?”

Some part of Brian’s old world personality shines through. His smile, the crinkle in his eyes despite him being older and no longer a college student but a weathered, jaded proxy is visible as he nods slightly. “Yeah,” he sniffs slightly, gaze now falling out the window at the orange, red and yellow trees visible from the car’s headlights as you pass, only to see them disappear as the four of you roll through. “Always liked autumn,” he says.

There’s that warm, gentle feeling again. You focus on your lollipop, feeling the presence of something mulled and sweet. This is as good as it’s gonna get.

“Yeah,” a pause, “me too.”

#creepypasta x reader #proxies x reader #marble hornets x reader #masky x reader #toby x reader #ticci toby x reader #brian thomas x reader #hoodie x reader #creepypasta x you #marble hornets x you #x reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader #masky x you

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themotherofhorses · 1 year

Note

Hi author first of wanted to say I love your work !

I'm not sure if you take requests so if you don't feel free to delete this 💛

Modern spy Aemond x naive reader [ Aemond meets her when he's on a mission and becomes obsessed with her how can someone be so sweet and innocent !? He just has to have her also baby trapping and smut if you're comfortable writing it ]

follow me now, and you will not regret (leaving the life you led before we met)

pairing: modern spy!aemond targaryen x naive!reader

warnings: explicit language. stalking. very much nsfw smut. once again, aemond is an obsessive and pussywhipped little bitch with zero thoughts within his pretty knocker. manipulation. innocence kink. breeding kink/baby trapping at the end.

notes: hi, yes, this is me coursing through uncharted and absolutely fucking rough waters in some attempt to spice up my usual smut writing style

(aka me practicing for the next chapter of my modern series)

masterlist

A career life built solely around espionage (or a sort of black shadow warfare mixed with cold combat) came dirty, bloody, and uncertain.

Or, at least, that was what Aemond “The One-Eyed White Death” Targaryen would tell himself on the daily, in some attempt at justifying the ends to the means. Really, this entire situation could have been a lot worse, he thought- after all, the lives of countless innocent civilians could have been caught within his crosshairs. He hated when that happened; it was always so messy, and came with heavy and boring paperwork.

However, that was not the case this time, thankfully.

It was only one innocent civilian in his hands, and she was still safe and sound.

Aemond had never meant to stick around the city for so long, having other missions queued up after this one, but fuck…you were perfect. Godsent, the prettiest and most delicious slice of heaven above, and he did not consider himself a godly man, nowhere near in the slightest. The gods loathed his type, he knew, and never hesitated in casting them all down to the pits of hell.

But you…

He had met you during the mission, while stuck undercover at some random little café on the corner street. The boss sent him to stake out some old-money and big-named crime mobster that was allegedly dealing weapons and various drugs under the noses of local law enforcement, a suspect on their “Most Wanted” board. And you- well, you were tucked away in a small booth, hunched over two thick college textbooks while multiple paper assignments laid strewed across the table top, so unaware of his presence sitting tables away on the other side of the room.

Gods, you were absolutely gorgeous, he thought. So fucking pretty, with those eyelashes and charm bracelet and focused look on your face. It made him forget all about his original mission. Fuck that, he has a new one now. And there was the cutest pout on your pink and glossy lips that made his cock harden, despite not having the faintest clue on what your name could be.

(That itself was no concern of his, he could find it out later in the evening. And he eventually did.)

You were there at the café the following day, and the day after that. Always with your head in those damn school books, his pretty and dutiful schoolgirl. The sight made him chuckle, and smile, and fill with the strongest urge to ruin you completely with his mouth, and fingers, and cock. On the fifth day, he finally decided to step up to your table, interrupting your usual study schedule with a shy smile and your favorite drink in hand, as well as a chocolate chip cookie.

“I- uh, I hope you don’t mind, miss,” he said, feigning bashfulness, “but I’ve seen you around everyday for this past week and thought, maybe, you wouldn’t mind being friends? I’m new in town, actually…and- well, I don’t know a lot of people around here…” he added, watching your pretty eyes widen.

And, fuck, your lips were glossy again, and he stood there (like a complete idiot) wondering what flavor they could possibly taste like.

Cherries?

Strawberries? Blueberries?

Maybe mimosa or peppermint patties?

“Oh, well, of course! I don’t mind whatsoever,” you replied cheerfully, rousing butterflies in Aemond’s stomach. “I’d be happy to be your friend,” and you patted at the spot next to yours, slugging away your tote bag and books so that he could sit down, and you could introduce yourself.

Hook, line, and sinker.

Aemond became your friend, first. The easiest way to manipulate your unsuspecting victims? Through trust and friendships, per the teachings of his old childhood mentors back at the academy. Throughout the next month, he bought you hot chocolate and matcha tea lattes, joined you in quick lunch dates, insisted on driving you to your college classes, and went with you to the little bookstores scattered across the city. It was fun…and torturous- utter torment and near physical agony- because all he wanted to do was fuck your pretty pussy until you could no longer remember your name and your cunt was to the shape of his own cock.

He would sit beside you in the café booth, listening as you drone on and on about your favorite, most passionate subjects, all while trying to desperately hide the boner in his jeans and rid his mind of such dirty thoughts and fantasies. There was no use, though. Aemond was fucked, too addicted and obsessed.

He wanted you, now and forever.

But that was not the worst part. The worst part was that you had not the smallest clue of what you were doing to him. You were just his sweet companion, his dear friend, too innocent and naïve to both the world and the waking beast deep within him.

He often followed you back home, to that tiny apartment near the college. Aemond swore it was because he wanted to make sure you were safe and protected from any of his enemies, anyone daring to steal you away from him, but he knew it was more due to the chances of seeing you undress and shower and decide which nightie you would wear to bed. And, sometimes, he got treated to his sweet girl trying to touch herself. It was so cute, so endearing, to watch you slip a hand between your thighs only to pause because you had no idea of what to do, and how to fuck your own fingers inside your cunt until you came.

Poor, sweet girl of mine, Aemond shook his head, tutting. Alone and in need.

How could someone so pretty, such a fucking cock-tease, be so innocent and untouched, so stupid and unknowing to everything sexual?

It did not make any sense to him.

Maybe you were made for him, and only him, and this was the gods’ gentle way of telling him to change his ways before it was too late. Leave behind this career of his, wash away all the red staining his ledger and hang up his callsign, all so he can start a family with you. The family he needs, the one he deserves.

Yes, he thought, that makes more sense. You need him the same way he needs you.

And, really, who was he to ignore the gods above? Aemond himself was no godly man, it was not in the nature of a spy like him- but for you, perhaps the fates might allow it.

Two months later, after a dinner date, Aemond has you pressed against your apartment’s door, his mouth frantically devouring yours in a fervent and wet kiss. It has been so long, so torturous, weeks after weeks of constant late-night jerking off to your pretty pictures and those blue-laced panties he managed to slip from your bedroom that one afternoon and pretending that all he wants to be is your friend.

You are so beautiful, so stunning, especially within this very moment, chest heaving out heavy breaths while you peer up at him as if he is a god.

He grabs at your face, a rough grip on your chin. “Tell me you want it tonight,” he demands, his lips near your ear. You shiver and clutch at his arms, so close to melting into nothing but putty in his hands. “Want what, Aemond?” you ask innocently, batting your dark eyelashes up at him. Fucking cock-tease. He chuckles while trailing light kisses along your jawline and down your neckline, mouthing at your nape and clavicle. You mewl at the feeling. “Please- please, don’t stop…”

“Do my kisses feel good, baby?”

“Yes,” you sigh out, tangling your fingers within his silver hair, “it feels amazing.”

He smirks. “It will feel a whole lot better in a little while, I promise you, sweet girl. But I need to ask…do you trust me?” You nod frantically, leaning up to kiss his lips. “Of course, Aemond. You are my dearest friend! I trust no one more than you.” Aemond just laughs at your words, yearning so badly to tell you that- by the end of the night- your cute ass will no longer be ‘just his friend’ but something much more, definitely.

But where is the fun in that?

“Good, good. Just relax and enjoy everything, okay?”

Aemond then pushes you back against the door, quickly slipping off the pretty floral top you wore and groaning at how your lacy bra cupped your breasts perfectly. Where have you been all my life? He thinks while snaking his hands around your back to unhook your brace and toss it somewhere over his shoulder, too busy salivating over your free and ample breasts and perky nipples.

“Fuck, look at you…so fucking gorgeous,” he mumbles, kneading at your breasts. You stiffen, flushing under his heavy gaze before moving to cover yourself up, feeling a little self-conscious. Aemond shakes his head, gently tugging your hands back to your side. “No, don’t you dare cover yourself up, baby. Not in front of me.” His fingers pinch your nipple, cause your back to arch. “I’ll never understand why no one has ever devoured this pretty body. Gods, look at these tits. You’re so beautiful, baby, a fucking wet dream come true. Mmm, yeah, bet they’ll taste delicious,” and he wraps his lips around a nipple, sucking it into his mouth.

You’re delicious here, and Aemond knows you will be even more down there. His poor cock, still tucked inside his pants, feels like it is weeping, too impatient and irritated and ready to ruin you. His hand slides down your belly to rest on your hipbones and thighs, fingers ghosting around your panties.

“Ohhh…” you gasp out, biting at your bottom lips when his hand slips in.

“Fuuckk,” he drawls out against your breast, thrusting a finger into your wet cunt. “Gods, you’re so fucking wet down here. Absolutely soaking, poor baby.” Aemond strokes your slit a few times before rubbing your clit with his thumb, hearing the way you whine and shake at his actions. “I can’t wait to be inside you, fucking you till all you can think about is me.” He continues his thrusting, watching how your pretty face scrunches in sheer pleasure.

“Are you enjoying this, baby?” he asks, humming. “Do you want me down there tongue-fucking you? Hmm? Oh, wait, my sincere apologies, pretty girl, you probably don’t even know what that means.”

You moan, loud and high-pitched, teeth still chewing on your bottom lip. At your silence, he spanks your ass, causing you to lurch up with a massive gasp. “Use your fucking words, sweetheart. I don’t care for silence, especially from you.”

The more you remain quiet, he thinks, the more spanks you’ll receive.

Eventually, you fling your head back, bumping it against the door. “Okay, yes! Please! Please, Aemond…!”

Grinning, Aemond stands up and draws his lips back to your ear, saying slowly, “Spread those legs then, baby girl, right now.” When you do so, he sinks down to his knees, both hands gently clutching your thighs, “Yeah, that is a good girl. My pretty, good girl of mine.” He moves his face to the front of your pussy, “Can you feel my breath against this pretty clit? Are you waiting for me to devour this pussy? Tongue-fuck you until you’re a stupid little mess? Tell me, baby.”

He then blows against your wetness, ignoring how you jolt hard at the feel. And I’m not taking no for an answer,” he adds before slinging a leg over his shoulder.

“Oh gods, yes, please,” you whine, jerking your hips up against his face. Aemond slaps your asscheeks hard- once, twice, three, four times. “Beg, my pretty baby. C’mon, I know you can do it. Beg for my tongue, beg like you mean it, you stupid and horny little slut.” Your eyebrows furrow at his words and you whimper. “Don’t be mean to me…” you whisper, trying to blink away tears.

Aemond raises an eyebrow. “Oh, you thought that, because this is your first time, I would be nice? My sweet summer girl, you teased me enough these past several months, and I’m done playing nice. Now, tell me you want this. Tell me you want me to claim this pussy as mine.”

Your wanton cries are everything he needs in this life, he soon realizes. If he can spend the rest of his days with his face buried deep between your thighs, he swears he’ll die a happy and satisfied man. The way his name glides off your tongue is incredibly, completely wonderful, and his mind fills with various fantasies and all the positions he will soon have you in, helpless and dripping like a whore in heat.

His pretty whore, forever and always.

“Fuck, baby, who am I to deny you such?” Aemond buries his face between your trembling thighs, inhaling your mouth-watering scent one final time before slipping his tongue inside your wet folds. “You taste so fucking good, baby- shit, you’re leaking all over my face,” he moans amid long licks, fucking you both with his tongue and fingers.

“Oh, gods! Oh- oh- oh…!” You shriek, both legs buckling as your hands clench into tight fists. All of your little moans and whimpers, those pathetic pleas and begs, they all send more blood rushing to his cock. You don’t recognize the early grave you’re digging at, too overtaken by the pleasure.

“So fucking tight against my fingers. How the hell will you take my cock, baby? Fuck, I’m going to destroy you.”

You moan again, in such a loud and lustful cry that causes his resolve to only weaken faster.

“Oh! Oh, Aemond, this feels so good! Please- please, don’t ever stop,” you wail, fat tears gushing down your cheeks. This pleasure, it is a feeling like nothing before, not even coming close to those few times you made some sad and futile attempt to touch yourself, too confused on how to deal with those strange tummy butterflies that seemingly hatched from their cocoons the day you meant Aemond.

How thankful you are that you met him.

Your body squirms every couple seconds, only to wince when he spanks your ass hard again.

“Shut the fuck up,” Aemond hisses without venom. He is too much in love with you for poison. “Do you wish for your neighbors to know that I’m fucking you right now? What would they think? The pretty and sweet girl that lives here, too innocent and naïve for this damn world, letting a man eat her out like a whore.”

You shake your head again, eyes puffy and red from all the tears. “N-no, Aemond…” you stutter out.

Aemond pauses his fingers, now curious to see how far he could go with this new type of torture. But it is not long, though, before you buckle against his hand, your bruised and swollen chest pushing up with stiffened nipples. And your body, it soon tightens as your flustered face screws up in that telltale sign that you are only seconds away from cumming. The scene is beautiful, very much so, and he feels pride that it is all from his own doing.

Yet he drags himself back up on his feet, removing his fingers from your cunt before you could cum. Perhaps it is a bit too cruel on his part, but Aemond could care less; he wants you to cum on his cock for your first time.

There will be many more times of this, he wants to reassure you. He doesn’t, though.

You’ll find out on your own time.

You gaze at him through bleak and narrowed eyes as he unbuttons his pants and shoves them down to his ankles. “You poor, poor little thing,” he tuts, running a gentle hand through your damp hair, “-are you tired? You look tired, but from what? You didn’t even cum once!” He pats your cheek, “Don’t worry, my sweet girl, you’re about to. Can’t tell you how many times, but it’ll be a lot.”

And Aemond does not wait for your response, instead snatching your hand and pressing it against his boxers. “Can you feel that, baby? That is my cock. Can you feel how hard it is? You did this, you made me so fucking hard that it hurts.” He clicks his tongue, shaking his head, “Now, that is not very nice, is it? No, no, no it is not. I thought you were a sweetheart…” He shoves your hand back, ignoring the small tears that gather in your eyes again.

“I’m sorry,” you croak, wiping them away. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Aemond! Please don’t be mad at me…please, how can I help you? I’ll do anything,” you pout as you watch him slip down his boxers. Your teary eyes grow as wide as dinner plates, and your breath hitches. It is so sexy to him, eating away at the little self-control he is trying to maintain.

You’re a virgin, he reminds himself. Soft and easy, my baby deserves that.

“Shhh, baby,” Aemond rasps out, cupping your face within his hand. He kisses your nose, cheeks, and forehead before finding your lips. “I’m not mad, really, my sweet girl. I know you meant no harm, you’re too sweet and good for that,” and he holds your face against him while readying to fuck you with his cock. He can feel your short pants, the little breaths you take, and how you shudder whenever his clammy skin meets yours.

“Relax your body, baby girl, don’t tense up. It will hurt less…good girl, that’s my good girl.”

Nice and slow, he chants as he slowly sinks into your cunt, groaning at the tightness, slow and nice. You whimper, eyes rolling back as begins his thrusts, slow and easy. I’m a gentleman.

Mother made me promise to be a gentleman.

I’m a gentleman. I’m a gentleman. I’m a gentleman.

But the look you are giving him, with your lips pink and puffy from the shit ton of kisses and bites, and the way your pussy clenches around his cock…it is causing him to forget all about how his mother indeed made him promise to be nothing short but a gentleman.

You’re too pretty for him not to devour, and…well, were you not made for him? The gods created you with the purpose of him eventually finding and caring for you, the way it should’ve always been- the way it will be for now on. His one good eye (the one those stupid bastards left alone back at the academy) watches as you shake and quiver and mewl out the sweetest and yummiest little moans.

The way you are right now, you’re just begging to be made into a new mother, and his mind goes insane at the sudden image of you heavy with his children, huffy and sore and always exhausted. It is delicious to think about. Aemond- truthfully- never really thought about kids, constantly busy with the espionage lifestyle and the back-to-back missions, but you…oh, he knows that, after tonight, you’ll have no choice but to remain by his side as the baby grows, needing him to protect and provide and shower you with love and affection.

He’ll be the best husband and father, and you his good girl- his precious slice of normality.

The way it should be, the way it will be.

It is half a year later that Aemond “The One-Eyed White Death” Targaryen finally connects back with his boss through a phone call.

Before that, he dropped off the grid, returning no calls and messages and signals, leaving everyone behind at the headquarters confused, concerned, and scratching their heads as to why their finest agent suddenly vanished without a trace.

He was not dead- they knew that. He was just…gone.

“What happened, agent?” The director asks, fiddling with his pen while another agent of his attempts to get some kind of reading on him. No luck; Aemond made himself untraceable. “Are you hurt, Aemond? Did someone threaten you? You left after I assigned you that mobster and- well, we assumed the worst, son.”

Aemond chuckles, shaking his head. “No, boss, do not worry about me," he says, "I’m good. Very good, in fact, the happiest I’ve ever been in my life, one might say.”

He leans against the doorway, arms crossing over his chest as he watches you flip through a baby store catalog and marvel at all the products they have for sale- the finest baby strollers, a variety of cribs, bassinets, and swing sets, and the cutest little animal plushies and clothing.

“Frankly, boss, I just grew tired of the spy life.”

“Is that so? And pray tell what you are now, Aemond One Eye.”

He smiles, eyeing your baby bump and how you are utterly glowing. “I’m a family man.”

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x modern!reader #aemond targaryen x you #modern!aemond #dark aemond targaryen #aemond smut #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond the kinslayer #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #hotd fanfic #request #vic writes 🧸

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bonknigirlinthehood · 5 months

Note

your dad!blade fic is so cuuuttte 😔 what if it was yingxing!dad and his baby just born (angst angst angst-)

I honestly don't know what emoji you put there, so I'm guessing it's a "stillborn"?, if not then please correct me lol, usually apple's emoji can't show up on android/windows and vice versa.

TW: death, blood, body being split open, emergency operation, infant death. It’s just pure angst so read with discretion.

A/N: You ask me to write angst, well, then I shall deliver.

Time is cruel. Time rots everything without mercy, taking away moments, youth, and memories of every being in this world.

For short-life species, time is like a ticking bomb, but instead of making them explode, it makes them wither. Nothing can escape time, not even fate itself. If time decides your life is ending right there, right then, then so be it. If time decides you will live for another hundred years, then so be it.

And Yingxing curses time with every fiber of his being. He curses time for toying with his life, his friend's life, his family, his wife, and his child.

He remembers it very clearly, the moment war broke out and everyone in the Luofu was dying. No matter how hard the Cloud Knight was fighting, victims are unavoidable.

What he didn't expect was, that his wife would be one of them.

Specifically, his heavily pregnant wife.

He thought that she was safe in the shelter, protected by the Cloud Knights.

He thought that he would be able to see her again.

He thought that he could finally see his baby.

Yingxing lets out an anguished scream when he sees the shelter where his wife resides is being torn into oblivion. He desperately searches for her among the rubbles and corpses, occasionally wiping his eyes off of his tears. And when he finally sees her, his heart flutter for a moment before dropping again at her condition.

Blood, blood is pooling on her legs. No, this can't be happening.

It must be blood from another person, he thought to himself. If isn't then it's probably just from her injured leg, right?.

She looks at him, eyes on the verge of blanking out. She reaches out to him, and Yingxing holds her hand tight.

"Yi..ngxing..." she says in a weak voice,

"Please...the baby...take the baby...please..." Yingxing's mouth drops as he hears the absurd request. He looks at her belly, and back to her again. She can't be asking him...to actually perform surgery here, right..?, He might have a dexty hand, yes, but performing a medical surgery?, it's totally out of the question. He shakes his head, tears flowing out of his eyes again.

"No...no...i can't...you'll..you'll die if I do that!"

A tight grip on his hand wakes him up again. His wife is looking at him with determination as if telling him she is ready.

She is ready.

Yingxing gulped, he took his sword, the only sharp thing he had right now, and pointed it toward the belly of his wife. She nodded.

With trembling hands, the furnace master sliced open the stomach, , layer by layer, cringed at every slicing sound his blade made, before finally able to pull his baby out.

Yet he does not let out a sigh of relief.

He stays still, with a bloody infant in his hand, the umbilical cord still connecting to the mother's body.

It's cold.

Yingxing takes a breath, trying to calm himself down. He tried to feel around the baby's skin, trying to wake them up. Anything, anything to feel life in it.

Yet it doesn't move.

The blood in his hands is still warm, yet the piercing cold he feels from the baby's body freezes him to the bone.

"No..." he murmurs, eyes unfocused. He averts his gaze for a second, to see his wife already long gone. He feels his heart crushed into pieces.

The man starts to do everything he can to wake his baby up. He shakes them, pinch them, pat their back, everything. Yingxing tears flow even harder, blurring his sight of the painful sight before him. It hurts.

It hurts It hurts It hurts It hurts It hurts It hurts It hurts It hurts.

He feels like his chest would explode as he starts to lose his composure. He hugs his baby tight to his chest, and without even realizing it he is already screaming his lungs out.

Yingxing could feel his body being torn to shreds from the inside. It feels like every fiber of his being is bleeding, and the only thing he could feel at the moment is tears dropping from his face and the coldness of his baby’s body.

He wants to die, right there, right now, as he wants to immediately go to see his family again in the afterlife.

And it really feels like he’s about to blank out until someone pulls him out from the void.

“Yingxing!!!”

The familiar voice pierced his ears, a black haired man with horns appeared before his eyesight.

“Yingxing, hang in there!” he shouted out to him. Worry adorned his face, a familiar warm hands cupping his tears stricken face.

“Dan…Feng…” Yingxing's voice broke out, energy being drained from his whole being as he slumps to the ground. Dan Feng grimaces seeing the condition, and as much as he wanted to help his friend bury his deceased wife’s body, he has more important matters to do right now.

“Dan Feng…I…I..failed…” The white haired man speaks, “I..can’t..save them.., not even…” He doesn’t continue, yet Dan Feng immediately catches up on what his friend meant. The high elder can only stay silent for a while, seeing Yingxing carefully caressing his baby’s head, occasionally kissing its head, hoping they would wake up and greet him.

The Vidyadhara gulped, an idea popped in his head.

“No, Yingxing. It’s okay” Dan Feng grabs Yingxing’s shoulder and shakes it. “We can…we can save them” he said with determination in his voice.

Yingxing’s face lights up, a newfound hope appears in his dead looking eyes. Deep down, he knows whatever Dan Feng is about to do is probably illegal, yet at this point, all he wants to do is to be able to meet his baby, even for once.

Seeing Yingxing’s expression changed, Dan Feng grabs his hand and pulls him so he can stand. “Good, but I need you to fetch some things for me. In the meantime, I’ll help you with your wife and baby”

Yingxing nodded, and as much as he was reluctant to let go of his child, he gave them to Dan Feng, fully believing the high elder to take care of them while he was gone.

As a father, he’ll do anything to save his child, even if it means he needs to fight against time nor fate.

#blade x child!reader #blade x reader #honkai star rail #hsr blade #hsr x reader #reddask

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wordsbyrian · 1 year

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First Skateboard - Alex Morgan x Reader

Summary: A sequel to "Skater Girl" in which R (a professional skateboarder) gets a skateboard for Charlie.

A/N: I actually had the idea for this before the idea for Skater Girl but I felt like I had to write that one first. Yeah, enjoy. Also, all mentioned skateboarders are real people except the photographer.

Ever since you reconnected with Alex a few years ago, life has been going pretty well for you. On both a personal and professional level.

Professionally, you’ve dropped some of your best video parts ever, you brought home a couple of X Games, SLS, and Dew Tour medals and you backside-flipped El Toro before they tore it down.

In your personal life, you and Alex got married a few years ago and have since had a daughter Charlie.

Plus, you haven’t even been tempted to break your sobriety since that day you saw Alex at the bottom of the hill.

Good things all around.

And they were only going to get better because Reynolds, your close friend and the man in charge of Baker skateboards, called last week and told you to expect a surprise with your next board and merch delivery.

A delivery which just arrived.

Flinging the front food open, you shout thanks to the mailman before grabbing both boxes and heading inside, the door slamming shut behind you.

Normally, all of your sponsorship deliveries get taken directly to either your car, for immediate use or to your “skate cave” (the garage) to be out of the way until you need them.

This time you carry them straight to the living room, where Alex and Charlie are hanging out.

“Hey Chuck,” you say, getting the attention of both your wife and daughter, “Uncle Andrew sent you a present.”

“Present?”

“Yea, little dude,” you confirm, setting both boxes down, “a present.”

As Charlie walks to you on slightly unsteady feet, you have to do your best to not laugh at the look on Alex’s face.

You know what she’s thinking, of course, the last time Reynolds sent you anything for Charlie, it was a baby dirt bike that was immediately banished to the garage.

Although, he’s assured you it's nothing that out there this time around.

Dropping to the ground beside the boxes, you shoot her what you hope is a reassuring smile before using a key to slice the tape and help Charlie open them.

When she does get the first open, you have to hold back another laugh because sitting on top of all the fresh merch is a bottle of Tylenol with the words “For Alex - Chill Pills” written on it.

Grabbing them before Charlie can, you toss them to their designated recipient.

“Looks like the Boss sent you something too, babe,” you say, carefully watching her face for any reaction.

It takes her a moment but eventually she just sighs deeply, putting the bottle somewhere Charlie can’t reach it, and speaks, “All of your friends are idiots, especially Reynolds.”

“I’ll make sure that I let him know you said that.”

Looking back down, you’re unsurprised to see Charlie already reaching into the box and pulling out some of the items.

It’s mostly shirts with the latest designs on them and you see a few packs of stickers and some hats in there as well.

Dropping one of the hats on the toddler’s head so that it covers her eyes, you hurriedly hide the stickers, sliding them underneath your leg. The last thing you want is for Alex to be mad because you let Charlie put one somewhere it shouldn’t go.

By the time she removes the hat, all stickers are out of sight and you’re already opening the box containing the decks.

Once it’s open you see exactly what Reynolds was talking about.

There sitting on top of the boards that you know are for you, is what has to be the smallest skateboard you have ever seen.

Smiling softly, you pass it to Charlie who immediately spins around to show Alex.

“Mommy,” she shouts, “Look what Uncle Andrew got me.”

The smile on Alex’s face is forced but she hides it well enough that Charlie can’t tell.

“That’s so cool, baby,” Alex says, “Why don’t you go put it in your room with your other toys.”

It takes a moment but Charlie does eventually run off to put the board away. You and Alex both stare after her silently waiting to see if she comes running back or if she gets distracted like she normally does.

When she doesn’t come rushing back, Alex immediately turns on you, face set in a hard glare.

“Seriously, Y/N,” she asks.

“What?”

“A skateboard? She’s not even three years old yet.”

“It’s just a board Alex, it’s perfectly safe,” you say calmly.

“You just got a cast taken off your arm last week.”

“That’s because I’m an idiot, Charlie isn’t going to be trying to drop in off roofs for a long time,” you try to explain, “Besides with me, Reynolds, and all the other guys, she’ll be perfectly safe.”

The look you get lets you know that your appeal isn’t working at all.

And if the look wasn’t enough to show you that Alex wasn’t moved by your words, what came out of her mouth surely is.

“I’m sorry that I don’t trust your idiot friends who nearly burned down their own warehouse to keep my daughter safe.”

Something about the way she says it pisses you off but the reasonable part of your brain knows that being angry isn’t going to make this conversation any easier.

So you take a moment, putting everything back in the boxes and grabbing them as you stand up.

“I’m gonna go put this stuff away,” you say, not looking at her, “Come talk to me when you remember that Charlie’s my kid too.”

“Y/N.”

You cut her off and continue walking away, “Seriously Alex, not now.”

A few weeks later, the incident is mostly forgotten, in that neither you nor Alex have brought it back up and have chosen to continue like it never happened.

At least that’s how you’ve been handling it until Alex walks into your bedroom one night after Charlie’s been put to bed with a concerned look on her face.

“What’s the matter,” you ask, setting your book down.

“The nanny canceled for tomorrow.”

“Oh shit.”

Alex has to hold back a smile as she rolls her eyes at your response and walks to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

“Yup,” she says, “And I can’t take her to training with me tomorrow, we have meetings in between our two sessions.”

“I’m kinda free in the morning, I’ve got a couple of calls with Nike and Red Bull,” you tell her, “the problem is the afternoon. Beagle and some of the guys are supposed to come down so we can get clips. Deadline’s coming up.”

You hear a groan followed by a light slight thump before Alex speaks again.

“Crap, can you take her with you,” she asks.

It’s your turn to grimace, the idea of having Charlie watch you and your friends practically throw yourself down stairs is not a very appealing one.

Seeming to sense your hesitation, Alex continues speaking, “You can bring the board Reynolds sent her and show her what you do for work.”

“Uh, what,” you say confused.

“Last week, Charlie said that I play soccer for work and that you take phone calls for work,” she says in a way of explanation.

“I’m not sure how that managed to change your mind about her skateboarding.”

It takes her another moment to respond and you just sit there staring waiting for her to finish brushing her teeth.

When she does, she walks back out of the bathroom and says, “You don’t think it’s weird that our daughter has no idea what you do for work? It doesn’t bother you?”

“Uh, no,” it sounds like a question even though you don’t mean for it to. “I’m 33 years old and I have no clue what either of my parents did for work when I was a kid. I think my dad might have been in the mob.”

“Can you be serious for 5 minutes, Y/N/N?”

“I think I’d die if I tried,” you say with a grin, “Might even be offed by my mob boss father.”

“You’re intolerable,” Alex says getting into bed.

“So I’ve been told,” you respond, “Just relax, I’ll take Chuck with me tomorrow. We’ll hang out with Beagle and the boys and everything will be cool.”

And for the most part, the majority of the next morning is cool, your calls go well and you manage to get all the details you need for the team tours hammered out.

The afternoon is when things take a slight turn.

First, Beagle and the guys showed up a little early, which normally wouldn’t have been a problem but Figgy walked into the house and immediately went to wake Charlie up from her nap.

Then you had to try and get a toddler and five grown men out of the house. It was only the promise of you buying lunch that convinces your friends and the promise of being taught to skateboard that convinces Charlie to head out to the van.

After that, it's back to smooth sailing.

You guys manage to knock out a few spots, everybody getting the tricks or lines that they’ve been working.

It’s at the final spot that you realize that maybe Alex was right about not having your friends around Charlie.

It all happens so suddenly too.

One second you’re slamming after yet again failing to laser flip down the Valencia 20 stair and the next you’re hearing a little voice saying, “Mama, you just got fucking broke off!”

And the only thought you have, while you’re laying there trying to catch your breath, is that it’s your fault really. You're the one that left Dickson and Theotis watching her while you tried this trick.

You don’t even have the energy to tell her not to say things like that, you need every last ounce of it that you do have to pull yourself back up the stairs to give the trick another go.

You speak only a few words on your way back up, “Thanks, Charlie. Beagle, I’ve got it this try, man.”

“Yeah, man, let’s get it,” the filmer shouts up at you.

It’s probably going to be your last shot to nail this trick, your body is aching, your shirt is torn, and you're pretty sure that you’ve got a couple of scrapes leaking blood and staining it.

So taking a deep breath, you begin pushing towards the stairs again.

Next thing you know, you're at the bottom of the stairs still on your board rolling away. Figgy, Dickson, and MIke, your photographer, are hooting and hollering, Theotis is skating after you holding Charlie, and Beagle is running behind you, camera still in hand.

Slowing to a stop, you let yourself be surrounded by your friends and take Charlie into your arms, you look at Beagle who speaks first.

“That’s the ender right there man, we start the part with that last slam and we have gold bro,” he says.

Before you have a chance to respond, Charlie speaks.

“Mama that was so cool,” she practically yells in your face, “Teach me how to do that?”

“Maybe we work on the basics like standing on the board first, and then work our way up to things like that,” you tell her, already fearing the repercussions from Alex. “Come let’s go ride for a bit while Figgy tries to kill this rail.”

“It’ll be gnarly.”

That night when you get home, you’re unsurprised to see that Alex is already there.

“Babe, we’re back,” you shout in greeting.

“In the kitchen.”

Making your way there, you’re quick to try and greet her with a kiss but you’re shocked when she leans away instead of returning your affection.

When you pout at her, she just rolls her eyes and says, “You smell, you’re covered in dirt, and,” she pauses, “Is that blood?”

“Might be,” you shrug, “Can I have my kiss now?”

You lean in again only to be stopped by a hand to the chest pushing you away.

“Go take a shower and then I’ll think about it,” she says.

Taking a step back you sigh, “Ugh fine. Charlie tell your mommy about all the stuff you did today.”

You begin walking away as your daughter begins to ramble. You make it halfway to your room when you hear it.

“And then we went to a school and Mama got fucking broke off when…”

You go running back to the kitchen shouting, “Charlie no!”

Alex glares at you the second you make it to the doorway.

“Y/N,” her voice is stern, “Why is our toddler cursing?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Never again, Y/N, never again.”

“Fair enough.”

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #alex morgan x reader #alex morgan imagine

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yae-energy · 4 days

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╰┈─✩ ˚ ‧ All the ways I love you ‧ ˚

✧˖° synopsis : The Jjk first years and their love languages !

✧˖° cast and crew : Megumi Fushiguro, Yuji Itadori & Nobara Kugisaki x Black Reader < 3

.ᐟ content warnings : General tomfoolery and mushy mush cause FUCK THE MANGA.

⤑ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ authors note : It’s been actual decades since I’ve posted any form of writing….I feel so unseasoned LMAO. This is just a quick lil hc post, nun crazyyy 😽

—

Megumi “I’ll do it” Fushiguro : Acts of Service king.

Now one thing about Megumi??? He’s gonna hit you with the “I got it” EVERY. SINGLE. TIME without fail. Doesn’t matter what time of day, doesn’t matter what he’s doing, he’s gonna make sure you don’t lift a finger for anythinggg.

Is he gonna complain whilst doing it? Of course.

But that’s just true Megumi fashion. It doesn’t mean he ACTUALLY hates doing things for you. Whether that be grabbing you snacks or completing mundane tasks for you such as carrying your bag or opening doors for you, HES GONNA DO IT EVERY TIME. You don’t even have to ask.

Def brings a “if he wanted to he would” typa vibe to the relationship and obviously you appreciate it ten fold (despite the tough guy act he tries and subsequently fails to put on. He loves him some you.) And what better way can he show that than through actions?

They speak louder than words, right?

—

Yuji “I love you” Itadori : Words of Affirmation goat

Ok y’all listen here, this boy is a certified yapper through and mf through. ESPECIALLY when it comes to you.

He will never fail to let you— or anyone for that matter, know just how much he loves you and appreciates your presence. You’re like some sort of higher being to him, the best thing since sliced bread if you will.

All day everyday he’s spouting all sorts of “I love you” and “I’m so lucky to have you 🥲” and he’s gonna get emotional EVERY TIME. Like he won some sort of award (the prize being you of course.) And that doesn’t even include the impromptu monologues about how you’ve changed him for the better, and how glad he is to even have someone as amazing as you.

He loves you REAL BAD, why wouldn’t he tell you?

He’d scream it from the rooftops if he could.

—

Nobara “Look what I got you” Kugisaki : Gift giving queen

Now, I personally consider Nobara to be a mixture of quality time and gift giving, but I’m leaning more with the latter because damn is she a great gifter.

Not only does she love spending money (me too girl, me too.) But, she LOVESSSSS you. Two birds with one stone she’d say, because she loves having an excuse to drop a couple dollars and make you happy in the process.

If she sees you eyeing something while window shopping? It’s yours automatically— whether you actually intended to buy it or not. She’s not good with the whole “lovey dovey” schtick, that’s just not her style. But to make up for it, she makes sure that you have whatever you want when you want it, even if you express she doesn’t HAVE to.

SHE WANTS TO, and you can’t tell her otherwise.

⤑ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ tags : - @morosis-haze @jogeto @mypimpademia @ivanari @planetlunaa @cosmiles @milesmolasses @chinieh @romiantic @stqrriichiigo

if you wish to be tagged in any future works, here’s my tag form to fill out <33

if you wish to submit a request, here’s my ask box :)

⤑ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ closing notes : hey guys…ahahaha…

LOOK IK I SAID I WAS GONNA POST A MONTH AGO BUT LIFE WAS LIFING LMAOOO

I also got a new job now so I won’t have AS much time to post and be silly on here (not that I was super active before but yk.)

Anyhow, thanks for reading and putting up with my lying ass 😕🫶🏽

Love y’all BOOTS DOWN

Mwah 💋

- Xoxo, Yves

#saint laurent productions #jjk trio #jjk x black reader #jjk x reader #megumi fushiguro headcanons #nobara kugisaki headcanons #yuji itadori headcanons #nobara x reader #megumi x reader #yuji x reader #megumi x black reader #nobara x black reader #yuji x black reader #Jjk trio x reader

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candlewaxandp0lar0ids · 2 years

Text

when he sees me || Lee Know

Pairing: Lee Know x f!Reader

Summary: Interacting with others has never been easy for you, whether it is talking to them or, worse, flirting with them. As a result, relationships, but also any form of sexual interactions have always eluded you. You had no reason to think that was going to change anytime soon.

And then your hot neighbor’s cat shows up in your apartment, and you think that things just might change. Even if it’s only on one front.

Word count: 13.3k

Genre: Neighbors AU, slice of life, smut, fluff & angst

Warnings & Tags: mention of a dead grandparent, social anxiety, insecurities, loss of virginity, reader doesn’t tell minho that she’s a virgin, smut (vaginal sex, oral sex [female receiving], fingering, very soft sex), unreliable narrator, unresolved romantic tension.

A/N: Hi everyone! After going through a rough past couple of... six months, hence the disappearance, and pretty much not writing/not finishing anything for all of that, I just really wanted to try writing something again. This was long — it basically took me the whole summer to write this piece — but I’m happy that I’ve managed to create something again :) Thank you to all of the people who sent kind messages during that time, I saw them and truly appreciated them. I hope you enjoy this, and I would really appreciate it if you could let me know your thoughts, especially if you like it!

“It sounds like you really needs to get laid,” Nari comments, and the table laughs heartily while you smile. You make the conscious effort of creasing your eyes, so it looks genuine, but hopefully no one can tell. She reaches over to grab your hand, an amused grin on her face, and squeezes it. “We’ll get on that soon, I promise, but in the meantime, being here is the next best thing.”

You smile and nod, but you also shift slightly in your chair.

‘Here’ is the District 9, and it’s, for all intents and purposes, a strip club. There’s no actual stripping happening, but there are scantily-clad men dancing on stage, and rumors flying around about ‘private sessions’ that can happen in one of the backrooms, if you’re willing to pay. You and your friends — coworkers — are here for the men. But, as the lights dim and your friends start clapping, instead of focusing on the stage, you cast a look over your shoulder.

You’re pretty bad at the whole ‘neighbors’ thing. It’s not a voluntary decision, and more of a unfortunate consequence of how bad you are at maintaining interpersonal relationships. Over the years, you’ve come to a certain mastery of small-talk. You’ve gotten quite decent at making a good first impression, as long as someone starts the interaction for you.

You’d been living in the apartment your grandmother had left you for a little over six months when you found out most of the people living on the same floor as you resented you for never introducing yourself to them.

“I didn’t know I had to,” you’d mumbled awkwardly, shoulders shrinking.

“It’s not like you have to,” your mother had been quick to reply. “It’s just the polite thing to do, you know?”

Yeah. ‘The polite thing to do’ was usually what you had to do, but it didn’t surprise you that she wouldn’t understand what that meant for someone like you.

You’d regained their favor by helping out here and there when it came to carrying the groceries. Most of the people here had, like your grandmother, bought an apartment in the building with the intention of spending their retirement here. It wasn’t a great place by any stretch of the imagination, but it had an elevator and a bus line close by. At that age, that had been enough to convince them of pouring their whole life savings into an apartment, and you thought the sense of community it gave them was enough to make it worth it. It was good to know that your grandmother wouldn’t have been isolated here, though the fact that she’d never made it into the apartment broke your heart every time you thought about it.

There seemed to be one other person your age, a man you’d caught glimpses of every now and then. You’d seen someone with a hoodie standing in front of the mailboxes, you’d noticed a motorcycle that you were convinced no one else here could be using and, once, you’d seen a side profile — strong nose, well-defined jaw, bored eyes, and an earring dangling by his neck — as he’d walked past the elevator. As a reflex, you’d lifted a hand to halt it, but he hadn’t so much as glanced in your direction, going straight for the staircase.

No one here took the stairs.

“What a handsome young man,” Mrs. Choi has sighed dreamily next to you, before giving you a pointed look. “Don’t you agree, darling?”

The question had brought a smile to your lips. You found it sweet, the way older people in the building seemed to really want you to find a significant other.

“I didn’t see him all that well,” you had answered.

But what you’d seen had, indeed, been more than enough for you to agree to her.

The first dancer to get on stage has Nari gasping sharply and mumbling a quiet “fuck” under her breath, and it makes you grin. He’s been introduced as Chris, though you happen to know that’s not what his friends call him. For now, he’s sitting astride a chair, back turned towards the public.

To be fair, it is a very nice back. Muscular, with broad shoulders, and what you can guess of the arms seems impressive as well. When he turns around, Nari pretty much spits out the alcohol she’d just ingested at an attempt of calming herself down. He looks completely focused on his routine as he starts to dance, more sputter coming from your friends when he starts to aggressively thrust his hips.

He’s hot, you can’t deny that, but— you’re not sure. This kind of things just— doesn’t seem to be for you. Maybe it’s the monetary aspect that makes you uncomfortable, maybe it’s the way he’s avoiding meeting anyone’s eyes. Maybe it’s the fact that it’s impossible for you to imagine that someone like you could be attracted to you, even remotely.

That’s not a new thing for you. Generally speaking, you can’t imagine the people you’re attracted to could be interested in you in return.

With one recent exception to this rule.

You had just come home from work, and all you wanted to do was throw yourself on your couch with a drama and never think about the outside world ever again. It was way later than it should reasonably be, because, as often, you’d stayed behind to work. So had most of your department. Unpaid hours, away from family and respite. You suspected that rhythm would drive you insane at some point, but you hoped you still had a few years left before that.

You had just had enough time to grab something to drink in your fridge when you’d heard meowing outside the window.

That wasn’t a rare occurence in the building. While cats weren’t technically allowed, they were tolerated, considering the fact that a good three quarters of the people here owned at least one.

What was rare was for one to be on your balcony, ginger tail up in the air as the cat’s head went through the bars. Your heart leaped in your chest, and you were on your feet in a second, rushing to the bay window. You opened it slowly, not wanting to scare the small animal, but were quick to pull it back after that, which earned you a nasty scratch to your wrist. Still, after that the cat was inside, no longer at risk of falling out.

“Where the hell did you come from?” you mumbled, watching him lap up the water you’d served for him. The only answer to your question was that he had jumped from an above balcony. He didn’t seem to be limping, but you had no way of making sure that he wasn’t injured.

When you left in the morning, after too short a night of sleep, you put a note about the cat on the building door, then went about your day.

The mystery man was sitting on the floor in front of your door when you got home. His head’s falling forward, face hidden by the black hoodie, but it snaps up with the ding of the elevator and then he’s looking straight at you.

And you forget how to breathe for a second.

‘Handsome’ doesn’t even begin to cover the way he looks. Almost black eyes are staring up at you, and dark brown hair fall in front of his face and framing it elegantly. Your eyes follow the nose, down to the well defined philtrum, the fleshy lips. He looks unreal.

You swallow.

“You’re here for the cat?” you manage to squeak out, after what you hope wasn’t too long or uncomfortable of a silence.

The man sighs and pushes himself up, letting his hood fall back. He’s not wearing the same earring as last time.

“Ginger cat?”

“With a white belly,” you’re quick to nod.

“Is he an asshole?”

Your mouth falls open. Maybe it’s because you’re so careful with your language, especially around strangers, but the vulgarity takes you by surprise. He raises an eyebrow at you.

“I mean I might not phrase it like that,” you mumble, “but, uh, yeah, he’s not…” You glance down at the bandage on your hand, hiding it behind your back. “He’s not very nice.”

Another sigh. He runs a hand through his hair, and you follow the movement with wide eyes — and probably too much interest.

“Yeah. That sounds like Doongie.”

He leans against the wall, and when you realize he’s waiting for you, you rush by him to open the door.

“So, where, uh, where do you live?”

With your back turned towards him, you miss the brief tightening of his shoulders at your question.

“Above here,” he shrugs, gesturing vaguely at the ceiling.

That makes it even stranger that he’s not taking the elevator, you think as you step inside and kick your shoes off by the door.

“He must be somewhere around here, I—”

“There he is,” the man comments from behind you.

And, indeed, the cat’s sitting on the table. He has interrupted the cleaning of his paw to stare at you and his owner, but the sight doesn’t seem to captivate him long, because he soon goes back to his business.

You hear a light chuckle behind you, and when you look back, you see a surprisingly fond smile on the man’s face. It completely transforms his expression, making him go from cold and kind of scary to warm and friendly in a second.

“It’s definitely him. Can I—?”

“Oh, sure, be my guest, but, uh, be careful. He lets his claws out pretty easily.”

When he shoots you a grin at the warning, you think you’re about to faint. Despite it, and despite his earlier claim that the cat was an asshole, he has no difficulty in catching it, and you hear him mumble some quiet, sweet praises to the cat as he scratches it behind the ear. The cat doesn’t complain either.

“Any idea how he got here?” you ask, just to say something, because standing awkwardly in the door entrance feels weird.

“He’s a little acrobat, aren’t you Doongie?” the man responds.

“I saw that there were some, uh, barriers you can put up to stop your cat from falling. Even if he's clearly good at that stuff, you know, it can’t hurt.”

“Yeah, I guess I’ll look into that,” he nods, slowly walking towards the entrance, careful to keep the cat steady in his arms. As he gets closer, you hear the cat’s purring, and you resist the temptation to caress it, worried that you’ll make him unhappy again. “Thank you, by the way. For looking after him.”

“Oh, that’s— That’s nothing, really,” you’re quick to shake your head. “I was happy to, and I’m happy he found his way back to you.”

“It’s Minho, by the way,” he says, and you nod, replying with your name, as he puts his shoes back on with surprising dexterity considering one of his hands is taken by a now pliant Doongie.

“Let me know if you need someone to keep an eye on him,” you say, though you’re immediately unsure of where that came from, of whether or not you’re sincere or if you’re just trying to be polite.

That makes the corner of his lips twitch — a smile that is for you this time, though it soon vanishes.

“Then you’d also have to deal with his siblings, I’m afraid. I wouldn’t want to force that on you.”

Siblings. Plural. That’s at least three cats.

Maybe you should adopt one too. So far, your crippling fear of disobeying authority has kept you from doing it, but if everyone in the building has some, it’s kind of unfair if you have to hold back.

“Oh, I wouldn’t mind,” you say, deciding that you do mean it. “I guess I’ll, uh, see you around?”

He nods, bowing his head in a polite gesture, before he walks out. You notice that, once more, he heads towards the staircase rather than the elevator, and your brain uselessly notes that if he’s always doing that, it explains how impressive his thighs look, but you shut it down.

Someone else, like your friends, for example, would probably have immediately started daydreaming about some neighbor romance. You have to admit that it is incredibly tempting, even if he barely looked at you throughout the whole thing, to imagine yourself in his arms. Yet, you reign your imagination in quickly. You don’t want to set yourself up for disappointment by imagining something that will never be.

After all, it’s never worked for you before.

“Holy shit, that was fucking hot,” Nari mumbles next to you, swallowing half of her drink in one go. “This place is heaven on earth.”

“I’d sell my whole family to ride those hips,” Daeun hisses from across the table, a sentiment that is echoed by the other girls. You don’t say anything, not that anyone notices. It’s not so much that you disagree, but rather that you feel— somewhat ill-equipped to deal with that sort of conversations. Enough to make you retreat in your chair, hoping no one notices.

The issue, here, is your complete lack of experience. It’s not that you ‘haven’t dated in a while’, though that is usually what you say. You haven’t dated. At all. And you don’t have the experience that people your age are supposed to have. At all. Not a first time, not a first hook-up, and, until quite recently, not even a stupid first kiss.

It didn’t bother you for a long time, as your years in high school, then in college, had passed. You’d always thought it would come, eventually. At some point, though, it had started giving you this gnawing feeling. You had never been your biggest fan, after all. Slowly, the question of whether or not something was wrong with you started taking up more and more space in your mind. That was what people said about incels, right? That they were unable to accept that they were responsible for people’s lack of interest.

After all, it wasn’t just that you hadn’t ever gotten that far with anyone. It was a general lack of interest. Where your friends never came back from a trip without a few stories about guys hitting on them, it just… didn’t happen to you. It didn’t help how shitty it made you feel that you were so ashamed of your own feelings, when your friends were complaining about unwanted male attention. When they talked about how ‘guys would hit on anything that looks even vaguely like a woman’.

Wasn’t it just pathetic? Were you really that desperate, that stupid to feel like that over what were essentially stories of sexual harassment?

Fuck. No wonder no one was interested, or that no one had ever been interested.

Your friends from high school and college — the ones you still talked to — were aware of the complete desert that were your romantic and sexual lives. Your colleagues… weren’t. It had just become embarrassing to mention it, at some point.

So, whenever something like that came up you just— tried to make yourself disappear, basically.

It definitely didn’t help that, for the first time since college and your last handful of disappointing and unrequited crushes, there was someone that you would like to have something with.

It’s 8 a.m. on a Saturday morning when you’re woken up by relentless knocking against your door. You’ve been asleep for five hours, tops, which wasn’t part of your plans for how you wanted to start the week-end. You stumble out of bed, then through your living-room, and you’re yawning when you open the door.

“Wh-what’s going on?” you slur sleepily.

In front of you if the neighbor with the cat. Minho, your brain provides to you after a painful second of hesitation. In your defense, you haven’t seen him since the incident, which must have been— about a month ago, you’d say. You’d even wondered if he’d left the building because, yes, embarrassingly, you had been hoping you’d run into him again, even though, up until now, you’d suspected he had promptly forgotten your existence after stepping out of your apartment.

“Does your offer to look after my cats still stand?”

You blink, and you notice that he’s holding two cats in his arms, with a third one in a box on the floor.

“What?”

“My mom fell down the stairs,” he says quickly, words so fast they come out jumbled. “I have to go see her and it— it shouldn’t be for more than a few days. I promise.”

You study his face, wondering if he’s lying and on his way to a week-end with his friends, wondering if you’re being taken advantage of by some guy who’s noticed how desperate for any kind of male attention you—

This isn’t helping.

Looking at him, his fear seems obvious. His eyes are searching yours, his breathing is shallow, and the twinge of panic in his voice finishes to convince you.

“Sure,” you say. “I’ll—”

“Okay,” he says, rushing to put the cats he was holding inside. “This one’s Soonie,” he point to a ginger cat, “Dori,” grey cat, “and you’ve already met Doongie. This,” he grabs a box, “is their food and litter box, they eat twice a day, dry food in the morning, wet in the evening, water whenever they want. They like to play but you don’t have to do anything with them and—” he pulls out a paper from his pocket, “that’s my number in case you need anything.”

You shake your head a little in a desperate effort to follow him, but he just said far too many words for your tired brain.

“Alright,” you say instead of asking for clarification. “Any idea when you’ll get back?”

“I hope Monday, but if it lasts longer than that I’ll—” He lets out a long sigh, closes his eyes for a second. “I’ll pay for anything you need and I’ll— I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

“Sure,” you yawn. “You should get going then.”

He stays there though, not moving, and cold air blows in from the corridor, prompting you to wrap yourself tighter in your cardigan.

“Is this really okay with you?”

You stare at him for a second. Your usual inhibitions around handsome men seem to be considerably dampened by the fact that you’re so fucking tired and want nothing more than going back to bed.

“You should go,” you repeat, trying your best to keep your voice gentle. “I’ll take good care of them, so you shouldn’t worry about that. Just be careful on the way there, okay?”

It’s his turn to stare. He seems to be expecting you to pull the rug from under his feet, to throw him out with the cats. Finally, he exhales slowly, looking down at the floor. When he meets your eyes again, your heart almost bursts.

“Thank you,” he says, sincerely.

And then he's out the door, running towards the stairs, and out of your eyesight in just a second. By your feet, Dori lets out a sad meow, and you nod.

“Yeah. I hope you guys don’t mind being alone, because I’m going back to bed.”

Second dancer goes by Hyunjin. He’s taller and leaner than the last one, muscles less impressive, but well-defined and bulging at his every movement. His long black hair are tied into a ponytail, but two loose strands fall on either side of his face. Based on what you’ve heard, the effect is completely deliberate — but it’s working.

“Oh my God he’s pretty,” Daeun comments, and you think she would have spat out her drink if she hadn’t finished it right after Chris’ set.

“We should come here more often,” Nari says.

You still don’t open your mouth.

Minho isn’t back by Monday. You muster up the courage to shoot him a quick text, telling him you hope everything’s okay, and letting him know the cats are doing fine. You don’t ask anything, not because you don’t want to know, but because you don’t want to seem rude or unpleasant. His response, on the other hand, is curt and monosyllabic, and they remain that way for the next couple of days, until you find him waiting in front of your door again on Thursday.

He gets up quicker than the last time, giving you a nod as a greeting, but he avoids meeting your eyes.

“My mom got back from the hospital yesterday,” he lets you know, “so I helped her with getting settled.”

There’s a silence during which you try to figure out what to answer — I’m sorry, That’s good news, It must have been hard for you — and he breaks it after only a couple of seconds.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to just— drop that on you.”

He’s fidgeting. Uncomfortable. That’s not an attitude you’re used to people having in front of you, but it’s one you empathize with a lot, so you try your best to find a reply.

“It wasn’t an issue at all,” you say, pushing your door open and gesturing for him to follow. “I’m just afraid your cats were bored when I was away at work, you know?”

“Thank you,” he says quietly. “Again.”

“No problem,” you manage to smile. “I’ll help you get everything back to your place, okay?”

He opens his mouth to protest, then deflates.

“That’d be nice,” he just says.

It takes a little while to gather everything — mostly to gather the cats —, and then you’re stepping into the elevator.

“Doongie’s really taken to you,” Minho comments. He sounds impressed, a little fond, and when you glance at him, you see that he’s smiling. Looking at the cat, sure, and yet you find something about this moment that is— You’re not entirely sure. Fragile, you think. Delicate. Like he’s letting you see a part of himself that isn’t often seen by strangers.

Because, at the end of the day, that’s all you are. A stranger he’d run into once before, and who he didn’t seem to have much interest in knowing, if the way he talked to you and pointedly didn’t look at you was anything to go by.

You can practically feel yourself shrinking as you stand next to him in silence in the small space of the elevator. You feel stupid. Stupid for being hopeful, stupid for thinking about him as much as you did in the past week, stupid for engaging in brief daydreams, even if you shot them down quickly, fearing exactly what was happening right now. You also feel stupid for all of the emotions that are overwhelming you, when you could just stop overthinking, stop assuming how people feel about you, and just try to— just try to live a little.

You press your lips together as you walk out on the last floor, warming up your face to prepare yourself for smiling and speaking. But, just as you’re about to ask him which door is his, Minho gestures towards the stairs.

“It’s that way,” he says. He doesn't look at you as he walks over, but he turns around, holding the door open, inviting you to follow with a movement of the head. You hesitate just a second, both because he took you by surprise and because you think there’s something defensive, guarded, in his expression. Then it clicks.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you had the rooftop apartment,” you say, rushing so he doesn’t have to wait for you.

“It's cheap,” he replies, climbing the stairs two at a time. Again, there’s something tense in his tone. You think. You could be mistaken. You’ve been known to get that kind of things wrong in conversations before.

Rushing after him, you find yourself glancing around curiously when you step foot on the roof. There isn’t much there, actually. You notice a few chairs and a wooden table, folded against the wall of the small building, and an empty clothes line put up a little further away. The apartment itself looks small from the outside, and you suspect it wouldn’t be much better if you walked in. The brick walls look solid — you’ve seen shabbier — but the black roof seems like it would be terrible for the summer heat.

“So do you keep the cats inside?” you ask.

“I keep Doongie inside,” Minho mumbles. “The others are smart enough not to try to get down from there. He’s not. Here, if you’ll just—”

He’s set down the cats and the bags he was holding and extends his arms. You almost protest that you can do it yourself, before catching on to the fact that he might not want you to get inside his house. So you hand Doongie over as the cat protests meekly, and stand awkwardly while Minho rushes him inside.

“Okay, all good.”

“He hasn’t found a way to escape yet?” you ask.

Minho chuckles briefly at your question, eyes creasing. You think it might be the first time you’ve seen him smile at you. The sight feels mesmerizing, but it fades all too soon as he clears his throat and brushes his jeans with the palm of his hands.

“So, uh, how much do I owe you?”

You blink, and then an unpleasant cold spreads through your chest.

“What— Oh, do you mean for the cats? Nothing, that’s— I was happy to help. Really.”

You’re not sure why the question is this upsetting to you. You just hope he was only saying it to be polite and that he’ll drop the subject now. But instead, he shakes his head, already ruffling through his pockets for what you assume to be his wallet.

“No, I can’t let you do that. I looked for an average online and—”

But you’ve tuned him out, realizing what the problem is.

The problem is that it makes everything so— transactional. Makes it look like you were doing it because you were interested instead of just because you were— well. Nice. It makes you wonder about what image Minho has of you, and you don’t think you like that image very much, that it’s how you want him to see you. You fold your arms, briefly squeezing them in your hands. The gesture brings you some shallow comfort, and it’s enough for now.

It also feels like the final indication that he isn’t interested in you in any way shape or form, wanting to just settle a debt and move on.

“No,” you say, raising your hands, “seriously, don’t, it’s— I had a lot of fun with these little guys. I’d even be happy to do it again.”

Finally, he glances up at you.

“Really?”

You’re quick to nod, making a conscious effort not to avert your eyes when you meet his.

“Really.”

The soft smile reappears, and for a second, everything else vanishes. All the anxiety, all of the fears, all of the thoughts that you are more than aware are irrational and yet can never shake off. He finally looks relaxed, with even a hint of happiness, you think.

Until he glances down at his phone and curses.

“Shit. I have to get ready for work.” And just like that, the tension is back. “I’m a bartender,” he adds.

“Oh, alright, I guess I’ll leave you to it then and I’ll— I’ll see you around?”

You pray that you don’t sound too hopeful or too desperate, but Minho doesn’t seem to notice as he hums in response.

“Sure. And I’ll find a way to repay you.” When you open your mouth to protest, again, a corner of his lips lifts in an almost playful smirk. “No money. But I owe you.”

You can’t help but smile. A second later, he’s disappeared inside the house, and you make your way back down the stairs.

All things considered, you think this went well.

“If things go like this the whole night I might not survive this, guys,” Daeun sighs dreamily, and you laugh out loud, though it’s drowned in the music.

“Not without alcohol, anyways,” Nari echoes. “Looks like most of the glasses are empty… Who’s willing to sacrifice themselves?”

“I’ll go,” you say, maybe just a beat too quick.

“You sure you don’t mind?” Nari frowns, and you know that, as often, she’s worried you’re letting yourself be used. “You’re going to miss the show. Someone else can go.”

You shake your head.

“It’s fine.”

She hesitates a second longer, before her attention is caught by the next performer — Spear B, shorter than Hyunjin, but who you know to be exactly her type, from the impressive width of his shoulders to his strong, large thighs. You grin, getting up and starting to walk towards the bar. Normally, the thought of talking to someone would be enough to send anxiety down your spine, but this time, as your eyes find the person you’re looking for, it’s a whole different kind of emotion that bubbles in your chest.

It starts with food. One time, Minho rushes towards the elevator, which you hold open for him, surprised to see him there. You press the additional button to the last floor while he catches his breath.

“Not taking the stairs today?” you ask, because you’re not very good at small talk and you don’t know what else to say.

Instead of answering, he pulls a plastic container out of his bag and hands it over to you.

“Cookies,” you say, not sure you understand.

“I got the recipe from a friend. So if they’re bad it’s his fault.”

You chuckle, but still shake your head.

“I don’t— Is that for me?”

“I mean you can share them if you want to. But yes.”

You’re still looking at the box, and you don’t notice him shifting his weight from one foot onto the other as he watches carefully for your reaction.

“That’s so nice, thank you!”

You catch the grin that spreads on his face, even though he ducks his head almost immediately, setting his gaze on the ground. It takes you a second before you figure out whether or not you want to add something. Finally, you manage a tiny sliver of a voice.

“You know, I told you you didn’t have to—”

“I know,” he interrupts you, voice light. “I just want to.”

You can’t help but chuckle quietly at that. This feels— fine. Good, even. It feels like a normal interaction, something you don’t get that much of unless you’re with close friends.

“In that case, thank you again,” you say, stepping out of the elevator.

He nods, slightly bowing his head, and you smile at him as the doors close.

After that, Minho keeps bringing you small offerings of food. You run into him one morning and he offers you gimbap. Another time, he shoves a box of brownies in your hands while he’s rushing out of the building — “If you didn’t like the cookies, I wouldn’t eat that, it’s the same friend’s recipe”, he says, and before you can tell him again how good the cookies were, he’s jumped on his motorcycle. Then there’s the tteokbokki that he brings you, still warm, and that’s when you find the courage to invite him in, so that he can eat with you.

He hesitates just long enough for you to feel ridiculous for even asking. But then he nods.

The meal is quiet. The two of you sit in silence, save for a few attempts at starting a conversation on your part, which he doesn’t seem responsive to, and a number of questions about the quality of the food, coming from him. Though he spends most of the time looking down at his plate, his eyes regularly follow your movements, without him lifting his head.

“Did you enjoy it?” he asks for the third time once the plate is empty.

“It was delicious,” you answer, again, “but it feels like I’m constantly thanking you for food these days…”

“That’s just because I’m preparing you for taking care of the cats again,” he says.

You look up in surprise, both because you weren’t expecting him to be this blunt and because you didn’t think that would happen again anytime soon. His lips are a straight line, though your eyes catch, once more, on the philtrum; and his eyes are empty, an expression he seems very skilled at maintaining.

Finally, just a second after you’ve decided that this has gone on too long to be a joke, he grins and his eyes crease.

“I’m not doing that. I do find it funny to see how much you hesitate before you accept something because you think it’s about the cats though.”

You feel your cheeks heating up, though it’s not quite in embarrassment.

“I just don’t want you to feel like—”

“I know, I get it.” A shrug. “I don’t want you to feel like I was freeloading off of you. I always pay my debts.”

“I don’t consider it a debt,” you mumble.

It’s interesting how these few sentences feel like they give you a completely new understanding of who Minho is as a person. Even though you’ve seen him around quite a bit recently, even though he’s been sitting across from you for the past half an hour, this might be the moment when you stop thinking that the two of you are little more than strangers to one another.

For a little while, there’s just comfortable silence between the two of you. Minho’s closed his eyes, shoulders low, head slightly lulled backwards. It strikes you then how exhausted he looks, and you want to ask how his job has been lately, if you haven’t been keeping him for too long, when he opens them again, shaking his head to get rid of the sleepiness.

“I’m having a few friends over next Thursday. Just getting drinks and maybe grilling some meat. You should join.” When you bite your lower lip, debating over it, he adds “I know it’s a weekday, but I promise I’ll get you home by midnight. We’ll be good.”

There’s something about the way he says that, about his grin that has you feeling flush once more.

“I— I’ll, uh, I’ll see if I can make it,” you squeak.

You think you see a hint of disappointment at the non-committal answer, but Minho nods anyway, then starts to stand up.

“It would be nice if you did,” he just says. “If you don’t come, I’ll bring you some meat.”

You stop yourself just before saying ‘You don’t have to’.

“If I’m not too taken by work, I’ll try to come,” you promise, which appears to satisfy him a bit more.

It’s only after he’s gone that you allow yourself to take a deep breath, one hand coming to press against your heart. You’re bad at this whole thing, terrible really, and you’re so terrified of the way rejection makes you feel that you’d rather never think that anyone is interested in you but this— This felt like what you think flirting would be, right? Right?

If it was, you’d say it was kind of nice.

You think you could get used to that.

Your heart’s beating loudly in your chest as you walk over to the bar, almost in sync with the fast-paced music that’s playing in the club. You notice Minho’s eyes landing on you, and you manage to muster a smile, resisting the urge to glance away when you’re caught looking. It’s not easy to fight it, not when you’re feeling this ridiculously nervous. It’s hard to pinpoint why, exactly. There are so many thoughts, so many taunts floating inside your brain, spat out at you by the part of you that’s terrified of rejections. Any of them, taken separately, feel irrational, stupid, and even embarrassing. Together, though, they form an impenetrable, terrifying cloud that you never seem to be able to get rid of.

What if he’s not interested in you? What if he thinks you’re pathetic for thinking he could be into you? What if everyone thinks you’re going for someone who’s out of your league? What if you misread everything? What if he finds out that no one’s ever been interested in you before and thinks it has to mean that there’s something wrong with you?

“Having fun?” Minho asks you when you reach the bar, words coming so easily from him when you were still trying to figure out what to say.

“Sure,” you say. “Just… feels a bit weird. You know, because I’ve met them.”

He hums at that, though you think you see a discreet grin forming on his lips.

“Can I get you something?”

Right. Drinks.

“Oh, yeah, uh, three Margaritas, one Martini, and one Virgin Mojito.”

“Not drinking to get through this?” he asks, grin more obvious this time.

“I wish,” you mumble, even if you haven’t had a drop of alcohol since the one time you got absolutely plastered in college. “But no. I guess I’ll have to sit through this sober.”

Whoops echo in the room as Spear B — well, Changbin — starts to thrust his hips aggressively on stage. It’s kind of hot, probably, but God, this just isn’t your scene.

“My shift ends in half an hour,” Minho comments as he starts making the drinks, and you turn your head back towards him, blinking. “I could take you home.”

For half a second, you almost reply ‘thanks, but my friends will never let me go’, before you stop to think about how this might be an invitation. Maybe. You’re not actually sure. Even when Minho glances up at you, clearly expecting an answer, you just— can’t fucking figure it out. He could very well just be offering you a ride home.

Which, to be fair, you wouldn’t be opposed to.

“That would be nice,” you say, a genuine, easy smile forming on your lips this time.

There’s one silent, perfect moment when your eyes meet his, creased by his smile, and you think of how different he looks from when you first saw him, how you’d never expected to see that side of him, and how wrong you’d been about it all. And it makes you just a little more willing to take a risk.

“Come on,” he says, “I’ll bring the drinks for you guys.”

He follows you over, expertly putting down the tray that you feel you would have had trouble balancing even while standing still. His hand brushes over the small of your back when he stands back up, and you notice Nari’s eyebrows lifting up, even as she’s looking at you only from the corner of her eye. You hope he doesn’t notice you almost shivering at the contact. There’s no rational explanation for the way you feel heat radiating from the spot he’s barely even touching.

“I’ll meet you outside in thirty minutes?”

There’s a hint of a question in his tone, an uncertainty in his eyes. It all clears away when you nod.

“Perfect.”

When he’s gone, everyone turns to look at you. You’re not one for the attention, but this time, it makes you giggle like a schoolgirl.

“He’s taking me home,” you say quietly.

“Holy shit he’s hot,” Nari hisses. “If it doesn’t work with him, you should give me— Hey!”

Daeun gives you a thumbs up with a nod of approval. You’re pretty sure she just kicked Nari under the table, and you hope she doesn’t see the way your smile stiffens. The thought of Nari and Minho is— unpleasant. You have no right to be jealous, yet the feeling burrows in your stomach, only strengthened by the certainty that, if given the choice, Minho would probably pick her.

After all, you’re no one’s first choice.

You force yourself to take a deep breath. Fuck it. You don’t know if you’re the person he would pick if he could get anyone out there, but tonight, you are his choice. And that’s good enough for you.

You stare at yourself in the mirror, examining the way you’re dressed, your make-up, your hair, anything that you could pick apart. You’re definitely overthinking a simple evening with Minho’s friends, you’ve definitely spent far too long figuring out what to wear in order to be neither overdressed nor undressed, and you’re so close from deciding not to go, just so you won’t have to keep thinking about it.

Ultimately, though, you step in the elevator, holding the bottle of wine you’d bought earlier for the occasion. You suppose beer would have been more appropriate, but then again, other people probably have that covered and— God, sometimes you wish you could just get your brain to shut the fuck up.

You make your way up to Minho’s rooftop apartment gingerly, having been unable to find the light switch. You feel relieved when you hear that there’s already noise up there — both because you’re not the first to show up and because it indicates that you didn’t mess up either the time or the date, probably.

Your eyes immediately search for Minho — though your brain still registers the fact that the men that are on the rooftop are some of the most attractive people you’ve ever seen, what the fuck — and you’ve barely just found him, busy grilling some meat, when someone steps in front of you.

“You must be the downstairs neighbor,” he says, dimples forming as he smiles warmly. “I’m Chan, I work with Minho.”

“Hi,” you say, a little too high. “It’s nice to meet you, uh, have you been here for long? I didn’t mean to—”

“Oh, no, don’t worry about it,” he handwaves your concerns. “We usually get together on Thursdays because Fridays tend to be big nights for us, so we kinda just show up. Minho said he wasn’t sure you’d be there tonight, he said you were busy with work or something?”

“Right, yeah, I—”

“Ah, you made it!” Minho materializes next to you, startling you. “And you’ve met Chan,” he adds, tone all sweet and sugary, which seems to be wildly entertaining to Chan.

“I was just saying hi,” he says, grin too wide for the occasion, though you can’t exactly figure out what’s going on here.

“Hmm, that’s what I thought,” Minho nods as one of his arms somehow finds itself around your shoulders. The contact makes you freeze, though you don’t find it invasive, just— unexpected. His arm is light and you could easily shake it off. But you choose not to, and after a couple of seconds, his fingers close around your arm. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to everyone!”

“It was nice meeting you Chan,” you pipe as you walk away, much to his delight.

After that come a number of introductions. Minho introduces you to the person he bartends with, and then a number of people who are just vaguely described as coworkers. Hyunjin, tall and so pretty you almost ask if that’s a requirement for this friend group — would have if you’d been a little more comfortable in social settings —, Felix, with his freckles and his deep voice, Jisung, who Minho takes you away from after you’ve burst out laughing at his jokes twice, and Changbin, who offers to let you feel his biceps surprisingly quickly into the conversation. Finally, Minho leaves you with Seungmin — ‘the accountant’ — to get back to cooking, though not without throwing him a threatening look.

Everyone seems to have broken into little groups, some trying to be helpful, like Felix and Chan, and others… less so.

“So Minho said you kept his cats?” Seungmin asks. He’s soft-spoken, with kind eyes, and you wonder if Minho left you with him because he figured he was a better introduction to the group for you than some of the more energetic people.

It’s at least nice to think that he would have that kind of concerns.

“I did! You, uh, you’ve met them?”

He grimaces.

“Once. I had to get stitches.”

“Oh God. Let me guess. Doongie.” The dramatic sigh he heaves out makes you chuckle. “He got better after a couple of days,” you explain. “Even wanted to cuddle towards the end.”

“He still hates Hyunjin,” he comments. “Barely tolerates Felix. Would probably maul Chan if he wasn’t scared of how loud he is. I’m impressed he didn’t murder you in your sleep.” There’s a twinkle in his eye when he says that. “I’m sure Minho was impressed too.”

You open your mouth to protest, before stopping yourself. A couple of weeks ago, you would have said that there was no way Minho was impressed, or even really grateful, but your perspective’s changed since then. Sure, he doesn’t show his emotions much, but then again, neither do you. You glance in his direction. He’s focused on flipping the meat, visibly ignoring Changbin’s comments. As always, you’re struck by how handsome he is, and that air of concentration in particular does something to you. But then you see him feeding a piece of meat to Jisung after blowing on it.

Caring. He’s incredibly caring. You just— need to stick around a little to find out about it.

“He didn’t act like it,” you tell Seungmin. “I kind of thought he just didn’t want anything to do with me.”

“I know the feeling. But hey, he stayed in the emergency room with me for five hours after his cat crippled me, so…”

Minho glances up when you laugh, and you notice him gesturing you over to try the meat as well.

“Careful, it’s hot,” Jisung warns you, pouting, when you get closer.

Minho blows on the meat again, slowly brings it to your lips, with one hand underneath in case it falls.

“Good?” he asks.

It shouldn’t make you feel like this to be the sole object of his attention.

“So good,” you reply after chewing it down quickly.

Minho gives a satisfied nod, and you simply cannot tear your eyes away from him as he finally tries the meat himself and a delighted expression forms on his face.

“It’s ready!” he shouts.

It’s not long before everyone has found a place, kneeling or sitting cross-legged on the floor around the table you assume Minho got out of the apartment for the occasion. Minho’s sitting on your right, with Chan on your left. Happy chatter is rising around the table, filling the night, all the people here clearly enjoying each other’s presence. You enjoy the atmosphere it gives, but it's also not easy to forget that you're an outsider here, still not quite sure why you’re here at all.

Though the way Minho casually puts meat on top of your rice, inviting you to eat it with a discreet nod might give you a small idea.

Chan’s the one who talks to you first, though. He makes small talk look so easy, you can’t help but get jealous. You’ve had to work on yours so much, and even then, you still have to stick to your script, while his seems effortless. He’s nice, bright, warm, and you just know you would have had a crush on him if you’d met in high school.

“So, what do you guys do exactly? Seungmin’s the accountant, but you…”

For the first time in the night, he seems to get a little uncomfortable, letting out an awkward laugh and rubbing the back of his head with his hand.

“Ah, we’re, uh, dancers. At the club where Minho works.” When you don’t seem to get it, he sighs and explains, watching your reaction carefully. “Well, stripping is— frowned upon, basically, but it’s— that kind of thing.”

“Oh,” you say, eyes going wide, “oh, I didn’t— I didn’t even know Minho worked at a club, but that’s, uh, are you guys… dancers first or—?”

“Trained dancers, yeah,” he supplies easily. “It's really well paid and, well… There’s usually a captive audience. So that’s nice.” Even as he says that, you can see the tip of his ears going red. “But, so, Minho didn’t tell you much about what he does?”

It’s such an obvious attempt to change the subject of conversation that even you can tell that’s what’s happening.

“He doesn’t… tell me much. In general.”

“Hm,” Chan frowns sympathetically, “he’s kind of like that in the beginning but, y’know, he’s a really nice person underneath it all.”

“I know,” you reply.

“I think it’s time for me to get going,” you tell your friends after a while. It looks like you’ll miss seeing Jisung dancing, but you don’t think that will upset him.

Nari shoots you the brightest grin.

“Yeah, get that dick,” she says, making you choke on the drink you were trying to finish before leaving. She bursts out laughing at the sight before patting your arm. “You have fun, alright? Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” A beat. “Don’t do most things I would do either.”

“I won’t,” you say, getting up and grabbing your purse.

“No seriously, enjoy yourself, okay? You deserve it.”

She’s looking up at you with wide, worried eyes, and though you know it’s the alcohol that makes her emotional, she looks particularly sweet in that moment and you can’t help but smile at her.

“Thanks, Nari. I’ll do my best.”

“If he does anything you don’t like I’ll find him and I’ll cut his dick off,” Daeun adds casually.

You walk off laughing. You noticed Minho leaving his spot behind the bar a few minutes ago, though not without looking in your direction. Despite Daeun’s final warning, there are only butterflies in your stomach as you exit the bar.

“Do you have to go back?” Minho asks when, later in the night, when everyone’s done eating, you start to get up.

“Oh, yeah, I have work in the morning, it’s probably better if I don’t stick around too long,” you answer, a half-truth that doesn’t take into account the fact that all of this social interaction has completely exhausted you.

“I’ll walk you back,” he says, following suit.

“You don’t— You don’t have to, I— It’s just a few flight of stairs.”

There’s a smile forming on your face, and you can’t quite figure out whether it’s because it’s an amusing thought that he’d even offer, or because he did offer. He shakes his head.

“Ah, the switch doesn’t work for the last floor anymore and I haven’t been able to get anyone to look into it. I’m used to it, so.”

“Sure. Thank you,” you add, quietly, after a few seconds.

He just nods, a little woodenly — and then he very gently places his hand on your waist as you take your first few steps in the dark.

As you make your way down in the dark, you become all too aware of the wooden scent of his presence radiating next to you, of the wooden scent of his body wash.

“Careful there,” he warns, “one of the steps is missing a chunk and you could slip.” His voice is low, and it feels like it echoes through the stairwell and through your body.

“Alright,” you whisper back, though you couldn’t say why. Hesitantly, you reach to grab onto his shoulder. You expect to feel him tensing up, but he doesn’t. If anything, his hold on your waist gets a little firmer.

“Afraid of the dark?” he asks.

“Not really, but I am afraid of tripping and falling.”

A chuckle comes from him.

“I won’t let you,” he promises.

Unfortunately, there’s only twenty steps before your hand finds the door to the floor underneath.

“Looks like that’s me,” you say, as you open it.

“I could always take the elevator down to your floor with you,” he offers. He’s leaning towards you a little, and you can barely hear him over the sound of your heart.

You want to kiss him, you realize, eyes travelling down to his lips despite your better judgment.

You also know you would never dare to.

“Goodnight, Minho,” you say, meeting his eyes again. You find that he’s frozen in spot, eyes looking darker than usual, devouring you. Your stomach jumps.

He leans forward.

You hear him, vaguely, echo “yeah, goodnight,” before his eyes close and his lips press against yours. You’re standing completely still, hands gripping your purse tightly. His lips are soft. Gentle.

Finally, you allow your eyes to flutter shut as well, and you let yourself lean into the kiss.

You’ve thought a lot about getting kissed, about what it would feel like. ‘It’s wet,’ one of your high school friends had told you with a shrug, eliciting laughter from other girls.

That’s not the word you would use to describe that kiss.

You would think of the way Minho’s lips seem to mold against yours, about the soft noise that comes from him kissing you again, about the way he tilts his head and how his nose brushes against your cheek, about how soft he is, about the hand that grabs your shoulder like a lifeline, about how he steps forward hesitantly, still kissing you, about how the skin at the back of his neck feels when you wrap an arm around him, unsure, and gingerly caress it, from the tip of your fingers. You would think about the little groan that comes from him when you do, about how he squeezes your arm a little too hard then lets go, then steps closer again, even though there’s not much space left between the two of you. You would think about the moment when you open your eyes, briefly, and see how lost in the kiss he looks. You would think about the heat that pools in your stomach, about the way your lips part and about how his tongue brushes against yours, and about how your whole world seems to be contained in this one moment, in the space where your bodies touch each other. You would think about how out of breath you find yourself being when he steps away, about how his eyes slowly open, about the grin on his face, like the cat that ate the cream.

“Goodnight,” he says again, a corner of his lips higher than the other. His breathing is heavy too.

“Goodnight,” you squeak. “I’ll— see you around?”

“I sure hope so,” he replies, looking immensely satisfied when you get flustered.

For once, you cannot say that you’re particularly happy when you find yourself alone in your apartment.

Minho comes out just a few minutes after you, hand aggressively running through his hair as he tries to get them back to their usual state.

“It looks good,” you comment when he gets to your level. You’re unable to raise your voice much, too nervous to do that, too worried you’re reading wrong into this situation, too scared you’ll embarrass yourself.

“That’s not gonna last,” he says gloomily, then smiles when he notices the way your eyebrows knit. “Helmet’s probably going to destroy that. You’ve ever been on a motorbike before?”

“Yeah, my brother has one,” you nod, maybe a little too eager to prove yourself. You don’t mention the fact that the last time he took you for a ride was when you were in high school and that the model he had was cheap and, uh, skinny-looking, compared to the monster Minho’s flaunting.

Still, you bravely take the helmet he hands you, and at least try your best not to show any hesitation when you climb after him.

“Hold tight,” he says over his shoulder once you’re there, and you do. You just take one quick breath before wrapping your arms around his waist, trying your best to position your head against his shoulder so the helmet doesn’t get in the way too much. You feel his broad back under the leather jacket he’s wearing, his muscular thighs pressed against yours. You wonder if he can feel the way your heart thunders against him. The thought would usually make you feel ashamed, because the idea of someone knowing how you feel about them is terrifying to you. Tonight, though, you’ve decided to be daring.

The city flashes by you as Minho drives. Cars, people, so many lives stacked one on top of the other, and the two of you in the middle of it all.

You’re feeling shaky on your legs when he stops, tripping over your feet as you try to get off. His hand immediately shoots out, wrapping around you to help stabilizing you.

“You okay?” he asks, voice softer like anytime he’s worried. His eyes seem half-closed, like cats’ eyes when they’re with someone they like. His hair, it’s true, have seen better days, but you think it’s cute.

You want to kiss him.

Slowly, not closing your eyes in case you miss his reaction, miss seing him pulling away or looking displeased, you lean in.

He closes his eyes first.

The kiss is soft. One of his hand comes up to cup your face, fingers trace your jaw, his tongue is warm, and even in the cool night, you feel electrified.

There aren’t many words exchanged when he guides you into the building, just a brief question about whether you wish to go to your place or his — you choose his. He kisses you again in the elevator, harder this time, pressing you against a wall. Your head’s spinning with the way his body feels against you, and you let out a whimper when he moves his thigh between your legs. It takes everything in you not to roll your hips against him, and from the way you feel him smirk against your lips, you’d bet he knows that.

“Camera,” you whisper into him, glancing up at the little device on the corner.

Minho looks over his shoulder and clicks his tongue in annoyance. Next thing you know, he has one arm on the wall by your face, effectively caging you against it, but also shielding you from it.

“Better?”

The giggle that escapes you barely feels like you, but to be fair, everything that’s happening to you right now doesn’t feel like you, because it’s all so new. The heat that runs through your veins when Minho presses open-mouth kisses to your jaw, forcing out tiny, quiet gasps that fill the air, would almost be enough to make you forget the fact that you don’t really know what you're doing. You think he can tell, from the way your hands fumble, unsure whether to grab onto his shoulders, his jacket, to run over his body, to wrap around his neck to play with his hair.

“Wait,” you manage to say, “wait, I—”

In a second, the heat's gone, concerned expression staring at you instead.

“Everything alright?”

You don't know for sure why you don't tell him then. Maybe it’s because you’re a little bit ashamed, against your better judgment, of your total absence of experience. You don’t want to be, you know you have no reason to, but you just— you don’t want him to think differently of you, don’t want to interrupt the moment. You also don’t want him to think you’re seeing this as more than it is. So, instead of that, you opt for “I just— I don’t have a lot of experience. I’m— I don’t usually do…” You almost gesture at the two of you, but close your hand at the last second. “…this.”

It’s not a lie. It’s also not quite the truth.

“Oh,” Minho says. “It’s fine. We can take it slow, if you’d like?”

There’s that hunger in his eyes again that makes you melt, that makes you feel wanted. You suspect that you’re looking at him exactly the same way.

“I’d like that,” you answer.

It’s only then that he bridges the distance he left between the two of you, for just one more kiss before the elevator doors open.

He holds on to your hand tightly as he guides you up the stairs, still in the dark, only letting go to unlock his door. He’s kissing you again when he walks into the room, backwards, both fever and restraint in the way his fingers grip your waist with bruising force. You put your arm around his neck, bringing your body close to his, and you feel him groan into you when your chest presses against him.

“Fuck,” he hisses, “the bed’s right there, just—”

It’s Doongie’s indignant protest that interrupts you.

“Shit!”

Finally, Minho turns on a light, and you’re greeted with three pairs of accusatory eyes.

“Give me a minute, I’ll—”

The rest of his sentence is lost as he tries — and fails — to shoo them into what you assume is the bathroom.

You can’t help but chuckle as you watch him try to clear the room for the two of you. The layout’s simple, with the kitchen by the entrance, and the small living room with a couch as the central piece, and the table you’d all dined on a few weeks ago propped against the wall. On the right, there’s a minuscule bathroom, and on the left, the direction Minho was pulling you in, there’s the bedroom, which pretty much only consists of a king size bed. A king size bed on which Doongie’s currently laying, tail swooshing around with annoyance.

Minho shoos him away, still trying to get the cats in the bathroom, and you sit down on the bed, grinning. Even if you’ve been interrupted, the sight of all of that happening makes you feel— comfortable. Sure, it leaves you with a little too much space to think about what you’re supposed to do now — should you take off you clothes? Should you take some kind of alluring pose? Are you capable of taking an alluring pose? —, but it also reminds you of how much you like Minho, instead of just how much you want him.

“Done,” he sighs after a few seconds, sliding the bathroom door close.

Before stopping right where he stands, staring at you, eyes wide and bulging a little. Unable to come to a clear decision, you’ve only slid the straps from your dress down on your arms, allowing it to fall down enough to reveal your bra and the skin of the upper part of your stomach. You’re also watching him carefully, though the appreciative way he takes in your body makes you feel a little more comfortable.

“Join me?” you ask, your attempt to sound confident and sexy coming out more squeaky than you would have liked.

He nods, still staring, and you see his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallows. Finally, he starts walking towards you. You bite the inside of your cheek as he gets closer, leaning back on the bed, unsure whether your heart is beating this fast from nervousness or from anticipation, unsure whether you’re terrified or excited. Either way, you’ve decided that this is your night. Getting to spend this moment to someone who you’re genuinely attracted to, who you trust, and who seems to want you as well, that might be as good as you’re gonna get. You don’t want to let anything get in the way of that.

Still, your lips part and your breath quickens when he slowly lowers himself to your level, placing one of his knees next to you on the bed while his hand cups your face. His mouth is warm against yours, his movements slower than before, and you’re not sure why, but the wet sounds that echo in the room make heat pool between your legs. You’re the one bringing more urgency into it when you pull him closer, until he’s laying on top of you, one of his hands roughly groping your thigh, your ass, before Minho seems to remember he needs to take it slow.

The hand makes its way under your dress, and you shiver. Being touched in such places by another person is a completely new feeling for you. You’d feared it would be invasive, but you find that it’s not, though perhaps that has to do with Minho himself, with how badly you wanted this. His fingers trail pure heat over your skin, body arching in an attempt to follow his caresses. When they hook your panties, starting to pull them down, you whimper ever so slightly against his mouth.

“Everything okay?” he asks. You take some satisfaction in finding that his breathing is ragged. From this close distance, you can tell his pupil apart from his dark eyes, and you discover that it’s dilated. His cheeks and ears have reddened, too, and now that your entire brain isn’t focused on the sensations his touch brings to you, you think you can feel him hard against your thigh.

“All good,” you say, more out of breath than he is. “All… all very good.” You don’t know what to add to that, if you’re supposed to add something.

“Tell me if there’s a problem,” he breathes, lips just brushing against yours this time. His voice is soft. The moment feels deeply intimate, and yet there’s a nagging fear in your stomach. You’d hate to see more in this than actually is present, hate to get your hopes up. Humiliation is easily what you’re most scared of right now.

“I will,” you promise.

There’s something surprisingly gentle, coming from him, in the way he starts to leave kisses down your jaw, then your neck. There’s one spot he lingers on, one spot that makes you squirm and whimper in a way that you find embarrassing, but that he seems delighted with, if the smile you feel against your skin is any indication. He gets rid of your dress just as slowly, before reaching behind you to open your bra.

“Would you— would you mind if we turned off the light?” you ask just as it comes undone. It’s not so much that you’re ashamed of your body or don’t want him to see it, but the harsh, white light just feels like it casts an unflattering glow on what is happening here. Makes everything feel cold and ugly, and while you think the light probably makes everything honest as well, just for tonight, you’d like to let yourself believe something else.

Minho just has to reach out to turn it off, with how small the room is, and that prompts a brief chuckle, shared between the two of you. The moonlight comes in through the windows, and it’s more than enough to tell what’s happening, but everything’s silhouetted, allowing you to fill in the gaps and letting fantasy seep into the moment.

With a regain of confidence, you sit back up, starting to unbutton Minho’s shirt. Your lips ghost against his, pulling away when he leans forward to kiss you back, and you just have the time to hear his laugh before you allow the kiss and it disappears in the moment. The shirt is soon discarded, allowing you to feel his skin against yours. His body feels harder than yours, taut muscles under your fingers, but you love the way he groans against your mouth when you brush against his nipples. If you were surer of yourself, you feel that that’s something you’d love to explore. Right now, though, you’re happy to let him take control again.

He kisses down your body, pressing kisses between your breasts. One of his hands flicks against your nipple, and it sends an electric shock through you. He doesn’t linger there though, intent on making his way further down. His kisses remain soft, never too insistent, and his hands on either side of your body help you remain grounded, even as you fist the sheets, trying not to squirm too much. Soon, he’s kneeling between your legs, not giving you any chance to feel the friction you’re so desperate for right now.

“Still okay?” he asks, and it’s very hard for you to keep the annoyance out of your voice when you reply that yes, you’re fine, and could he please just do something now.

There’s another chuckle, and then he moves aside to slide your drenched panties down your legs. Your cheeks are burning when you feel his breath between your legs. He starts by kissing the inside of your thigh, and you press your lips tightly together, just waiting for what’s to come next. There’s nothing you can do to contain the loud moan that escapes you when, finally, Minho’s mouth closes around your clitoris. The pleasure is like nothing you’ve ever felt with your hand or toys, and you can’t help the way your legs close around him.

It doesn’t seem to faze him, though, one hand grabbing your thigh for support while he keeps his head down. As you’re still trying to gather yourself in any way, with one hand pressed to your mouth so you don’t become too loud, you feel him push a finger into you. It slides in easily from how wet you are, and you hear yourself mewl when he adds another finger, then a third, slowly spreading you open. It feels nothing like it does when you’re the one doing it. All this time, his mouth is still latched onto your clit, tongue working its magic against it.

It’s not long until you feel the orgasm approaching, rolling onto you faster than it ever has before. You try to hold it at bay, wanting to enjoy the delicious sensations longer, but it’s all so much, too much, and soon you’re coming with a loud cry, thighs spasming around Minho’s head. His fingers move rhythmically into you, allowing you to ride the wave a little longer, and eventually you’re back on Earth, panting desperately, feeling drunk though you haven’t had a drop of alcohol.

“Still good?” Minho asks, and you discover a smug grin on his face when he glances up at you.

“Still good,” you reply, not having enough energy to roll your eyes at him, especially not when he is the one who’s just made you feel like that.

His hands don’t leave your hips when he lies down by your side. His thumb traces circles over your skin, and despite the mind-shattering orgasm he’s just given you, it doesn’t take long until you’re burning for him all over again.

Experimentally, you shift your leg against his hard cock, only to be almost immediately rewarded by a hiss and a jerk of his hips to chase the friction.

“Ready for another round?” he asks you. It’s a half-growl, and you can’t help but grin. Knowing that you’re affecting him that much is electrifying.

“Yeah, just… slow,” you say. “I’m— Um—” You stumble on your choice of words. It’s not like you’ve never had anything inside you, you’ve used toys before, but this feels completely different.

“Want to be on top?” Minho asks softly, surprising you once more with how considerate and thoughtful he’s being. “Then you can pick your own rhythm.”

“That’d be— That’d be great, actually,” you say. “Do you— Do you have a condom?”

“Sure, just give me a second. You’re clean, by the way, right?”

You hum in answer as he stretches to get a condom out of his night table. He tears it open with his teeth. You’re pretty sure he’s just showing off, but you do find it kind of hot, so you suppose you can let it slide.

He’s just reaching down to undo his belt when you interrupt him, starting to do it instead. Your hand brushes against the tent in his pants and he lets out a curse through gritted teeth. You pull back to let him shake off the pants, then soon the boxers, and watch as he rolls on the condom expertly. You try not to look too interested, though you are a bit curious about the process.

After that, there are a few awkward seconds needed to get into position, though the tension dissolves in giggles quickly as you straddle him. You roll your hips once against his rock hard cock, pressed against your wet slit. It twitches against you, and Minho hisses.

“Fuck you’re a tease.”

The comment makes you smirk and you lean in to press one more kiss to his lips, nipples brushing against his chest as you do so. Then you push yourself back up, one hand on his chest for support, while his hold on to your hips with a gentle grip.

“Take your time.”

You roll your lips together, wrapping one hand around the base of his cock and he groans, throwing his head back in his pillow. Even under the moonlight, you can see his eyes closing in pleasure, and you can’t help but find it incredibly erotic. It gives you the confidence you need to guide it against your entrance, then slowly start lowering your hips. The stretch causes a moan to rise from your throat, even though you keep your mouth shut.

Then another, as you get Minho deeper inside of you, and finally your mouth falls open and it’s a recital of small, high-pitched whimpers. The whole time, though you’re not aware of it, eyes tightly shut, Minho’s eyes are on you, devouring the sight you’re giving him. The way your chest rises and falls as your breathing quickens, the way you throw your head back, the way you try to suppress your moans at first before giving up.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he says, and you open your eyes.

You haven’t moved yet, hips just stuttering involuntarily and sending jolts of pleasure through your body every time.

“Y-you think so?” you ask, and a bit of the facade you’ve tried to put on so far falls.

Minho sits up, one hand closing around your thigh while the other comes on the small of your back. He kisses you messily, linking your mouths and tongues while his hips start a slow rhythm under you. You dissolve into him, almost desperately wrapping your arms around his neck, moans immediately swallowed between the two of you.

“So, so fucking hot,” he breathes as his pace starts picking up. “Wanna, ah, wanna lie down again? I’ll take care of it now.”

There’s so much warmth in his voice, so much care that you almost want to protest, want to tell him not to do that when you don’t think this night means that much to him. Yet you’re also grateful for it, grateful for how good he’s making all of this for you, grateful for him making this night unforgettable to you in more ways than one.

He guides you back down, kisses you once more, and then the grip on your hips becomes bruising, and he starts going faster. Vaguely, you get the feeling that he’s holding back, even as small grunts come from him at every thrust. From the way his eyes watch you, it seems he takes just as much pleasure in watching you fall apart apart, as he does from the way your bodies are joined together. You can’t give it much thought, though, too lost in the pleasure, and when he brings one hand down between your legs to rub your clit, you cry out, loosing the ability for any coherent thought on the spot. The orgasm hits without a warning, without the familiar build you’re used to, and your hips move desperately in an attempt to prolong the heavenly feeling just a little bit more.

It’s then that the rhythm picks up once more, thrusts deeper this time, as Minho starts chasing his own high. You think he comes a few seconds after you, based on the loud moan he lets out then, though it could be longer, because your notion of time is not very precise at that point.

Then he collapses, slowly pulling out of you to roll onto his back. He’s panting, and when you glance at him, he shoots you his signature grin.

“Pretty good, huh?”

Of course he’d brag about it.

“Decent,” you hear yourself reply with a smile in return. “Not that bad.”

It makes him laugh, and for a few moments, the two of you just lie there, and it’s good and comfortable and nice and you could just stay there, in his bed, with his hand soft and comforting on your hip, for hours.

But finally, he sits up and stretches his arms.

“I’m gonna wash up,” he says. “D’you want to use the bathroom before going back to your place?”

You blink. And then it hits you. You’ve seen it in movies, you’ve heard your friends talk about it, usually preceded by the sentence ‘you’ll never guess what that fucking asshole told me after it’. Not only is he not letting you stay the night, but he’s basically kicking you out. It’s not— It’s not like you’d been particularly intent on staying, you would probably have booked it after regaining control of your brain — and once your anxiety would have kicked in again — but it makes ice fill your veins.

Right. You shouldn’t get carried away.

Fuck, you should never get carried away.

“Yeah, I’ll just use it quick, if you don’t mind,” you say, gathering your clothes, and you hate how your voice changes, how it becomes softer and higher. You just tell yourself that he doesn’t know you well enough to be able to tell what’s happening, and you cling to that thought with everything you have.

There’s a limp in your step when you get up, but you push through it. The cats escape when you open the door, and, for once, you don’t take the time to greet them, in too much of a hurry to get out, get the fuck out of here. Inside, you throw your dress back on, stuff your bra in your bag, pee, grimace at your ruined panties but ultimately put them on, slip your feet in your shoes, then step out. It probably takes you a minute and a half.

“You can take a shower if you want,” Minho says, but this time the attention makes you want to slap him.

“I’m good,” you say instead of literally anything else, “I’ll just take it at home. It’s not like it’s that far.”

He nods.

“You work early tomorrow, right?”

“I do, so, I, uh, should probably get going.”

You open the door, step out in the fresh air of the night, and there, you find yourself softening a little. You can’t help but think that you’re getting upset in part because you let yourself get too emotional, too involved in this. So you turn back to give him a little smile.

“I, uh, I had a really good time,” you say, tilting your head in the direction of the bedroom.

You half expected him to brag, but instead he looks down, and you guess more than you see the smile that forms on his lips.

“Yeah. Me too.”

“Well, uh—” You hesitate. For a second, ‘I’ll see you around’ is on your lips, but you’re too wrapped up in the fear that he’ll get the wrong impression, or worst, that he’ll get the right one and think you want something more with him, too terrified that he’ll hate that idea. “Goodnight,” you say instead.”

“Goodnight.”

Then you close the door and make your way through the roof and down the stairs. You don’t know how you expected to feel, after finally getting to experience something you’ve craved for so long. Different, that’s for sure. But, even though the last note of the night feels so discordant, you still take away Minho’s warmth, the feeling of his lips of your skin, the adoring glow of his eyes when he looked up at you.

And you’re convinced that you’re better off for that.

when he sees me — Waitress

Might be part one of three! But considering how my writing process has been going these days, I can’t promise anything unfortunately.

#lee know x reader #minho x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #lee minho x reader #stray kids #lee know #lee know fanfic #stray kids fanfic #lee know smut

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