#don’t look at the shadows and lines too closely lol

[ahhrenata]

Day 2 | Fluff | foreheads pressed gently together, noses softly touching- they’re just breathing each other in.

I’ve been excited for @steddie-week !!! These two have such a hold on my heart. I just wanna see them happy together 🥹

#If i could add sound eddie would be humming some kinda love song and Steve’s huffing out a laugh #thanks queeen for organizing this! #i really enjoyed working on this one #i think its my new favorite #steddieweek2023 #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fanart #stranger things art #don’t look at the shadows and lines too closely lol

[whatthefishh]

I’m so ashamed to be requesting this… but I’ve been looking everywhere for a shower smut with Miguel O’Hara and I feel like I can trust you not to let me down😩😩😭 if you can, ONLY if you can I don’t wanna be a bother.

Hey, no need to be ashamed haha! That’s so sweet of you, thank you for trusting me with this 😉 and I hope this short blurb doesn’t let you down… I wrote this instead of focusing on my assignment lol!

Miguel smut under the cut, 18+ only

Your muscles were aching, the hot water spraying down your back helping to release some of the tension there. You had a long day and couldn’t wait to get home for some down time, and a hot shower was the perfect start to your relaxing evening. You hear the bathroom door open and the blurry large shadow of Miguel in the doorway. You know it’s him just by his sheer size, nobody else you knew took up that much space.

“Mig, can you grab me a towel? I forgot!” You shout, turning to rinse the shampoo out of your hair.

“You always forget,” he grumbles lowly, thinking you can’t hear him but he’s closer now.

“Yeah, I know I know, can you just get me— no, no! You can’t just—!”

It was too late. Miguel had stripped his clothes in record time — or maybe he walked into the bathroom already naked — and joined you in the shower, his height effectively blocking the water from spraying on you as his broad frame took up most of the shower space.

“You got me all wet, nena,” he says looking down at you, slowly backing you against the tile wall behind you.

“I didn’t tell you to come inside…”

He sniffs out a laugh.

“Actually—“

“Shut up. Just shut up.”

Reaching a hand up to pull him by the neck down, down, down to meet your lips, your tongues collide hotly under the spray of hot water. Pretty soon, you’re a moaning mess under his skillful tongue and roaming hands, lost in the sensation of your lover’s touch.

Miguel lifts you against the tiles and you gasp into his mouth at the cool wall against your back while he groans at the feeling of his hard cock bobbing against your core. He’s rubbing himself against you, effectively making you drip for him while the water ran down his back.

Both of you were wet now.

Removing himself from your lips for a moment, he rests his forehead against yours to look into your eyes and smile, a rare one, a real one. You don’t see this one often.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Tan buena que eres conmigo,” Mig tells you quietly before lining up his fat tip with your entrance and slowly pushing forward, kissing you again when you start moaning at the intrusion.

It’s always a stretch, no matter how much he tries to prep you. Inch by thick inch, he bullies his way into your cunt, massaging your breasts and mouthing at them to distract you. The sound when his lips wrap around your slippery skin is sinful, popping off your peaks with a satisfied hum while your chest heaves from everything you’re feeling.

He’s everywhere, around you and inside you all at once. It’s overwhelming in the best way possible.

Once he bottoms out, he waits for your go ahead, a small nod while you rest your head against the cool tiles has him starting to pull out nefariously slow, intent on making you loose and pliant by the end of the session. Bucking his hips, he fills you again and again, pressing your body into the shower wall and grunting on every pass.

The water was already hot and the way he’s fucking you has you burning up, the coil tightening in your belly so much that you’re about to pass out. He notices your breath coming out shallower.

“Needed me to loosen you up, isn’t that right nena? Uh huh?”

You’re whining incoherently, eyes shut against the tiles as he plows into your pussy. You try to answer him but all that comes out are pathetic noises that you know only feed his ego.

“What was that, baby? You’re close, aren’t you, can feel you— ahhhhh!” He groans out loud when you finally gush around his girth, body shuddering in his arms.

Completely reliant on his strength to hold you up — the way you’re impaled on him also helping — you let go. Utterly and entirely, you let yourself go in his arms, trusting him to take care of you.

Gripping your ass as he holds you up, Miguel continues to fuck into your fluttering hole, bucking his hips untimely as he nears his own end after feeling yours. His growls and grunts are bordering on animalistic, the smooth golden planes of his body catching your eyes as you ride out his assault on your pussy. The way his biceps ripple when he flexes his hands holding you up, the way the vein in his neck throbs when he’s breathing heavily, the way his abs flutter when he’s close to cumming —

He’s absolutely stunning, and he’s all yours.

And he’s making you his, coming inside you and pressing his hips into yours, after essentially drilling you into the shower wall, he holds you there while groaning through his release.

The stress you were carrying was all gone, replaced with everything Miguel. You couldn’t wait to spend the rest of your evening with him.

S/o to my translator — @xbellaxcarolinax ❤️

#inbox 💌 #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara imagine #atsv smut #atsv fanfiction

[koqabear]

Like Cat and Mouse!

☆ Playlist! ☆

"You seemed to have garnered quite the reputation for you on campus— one that had the word “trouble” following you like a shadow. But when you give Beomgyu an offer he couldn’t possibly turn down in exchange for helping you get your grades back up, how could he refuse? You can’t possibly be that hard to handle, right?"

Beomgyu x fem!reader, ft. Hueningkai

Genre: college au, slowburn (kinda..?), tutor!gyu x rich girl!mc, fluff, angst, smut

Word count: 37.1K

Warnings: mc is a bitch, and maybe a bimbo? gyu wears glasses, and he’s like super super shy, mc gets sick for a scene, she rambles but its part of her character ok!, toxic relationships, pining/unrequited love, Yunjin is so fake here im sorry Yunjin, mentions of alcohol/drinking, the puppy gyu agenda is fucking strong here !!!

Smut warnings: multiple smut scenes first of all, fwb!huening, dom!hyuka, switch!mc, sub!gyu, (the worst case of sub gyu yet), virgin!gyu, breast play, dry humping, biting, pet names (f rec: princess, m rec: puppy, good boy, baby, slut, etc.)  mentions of bondage (f. rec.), spanking (f. rec.), degrading, praise, praise kink, finger sucking, oral (f. & m rec.), handjobs, mouth fucking, cum eating (?), explicit, verbal consent is not stated in two scenes but both parties are willing! Semi-public sex, overstimulation, slight thigh riding, marking, hair pulling (m. rec. lol), begging, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, cockwarming

notes: i don't even know what to say... there's really no reason for this to be so long, how did we get here. i hide my face in shame.

It all starts as an accident— a very inconvenient accident.

Really, it wasn’t your fault; how were you supposed to keep up with these endless assignments that only seemed to get worse as time went on? You had better things to do with your life— studying is way too much of a headache for you these days. 

Instead, your days have been filled along the lines of parties and trips your friends hold, gaining connections with people that always help things go next level; Empty vacation homes, yachts, even a private jet once— you were lucky enough to land a friendship with these type of people, the thought of taking things slow and worrying more about your education not crossing your mind anymore once you got a taste of the fast life. 

Which is exactly how you got where you are now. 

“There goes your man,” Yunjin’s elbow is sharp against your side as she whispers teasingly, the jab only making your frown deepen as you weakly attempt to shake her off. 

“Shut up.” That’s all you can manage as you go to lay your head down on the dining hall table, your appetite long gone as your head swims and your stomach twists with nausea; her single jab is enough to remind your body of its terrible shape, your eyes shutting tightly as you fight through the urge to hurl then and there. 

You’re not even sure of what she might mean— you don’t remember telling her about any recent hookups— hell, you don’t even remember gawking at anyone in your vicinity; so for her to be teasing you about this “man” of yours was strange, a pout forming on your lips as you try to focus on the cool feeling of the wood beneath your skin.

“I gotta go,” Yunjin says abruptly, your eyes opening to send her a confused look. All she can do is give you an eager smile, patting your head as she grabs her now empty coffee cup from the table. “Your man is coming this way.”

Before you can ask her what man she could possibly be talking about, she’s off, not bothering to look back as she sends you a little wave over her shoulder, perfectly manicured nails glittering under the sunlight that shines through the windows. 

The seat in front of yours is quickly filled. 

“You weren’t at our study session yesterday.”

Jesus. 

There’s not much you can say to that, clearly guilty as you choose to press your forehead against the cool table in response. Maybe, if you close your eyes, he’ll disappear— if only it were that easy. But instead, you’re stuck with Choi Beomgyu and the warm scent of coffee that follows him— god knows how many cups he drank as a substitution for sleep. Your lashes flutter against the table as you attempt to drown out his whines, surprised that he hasn't taken your unresponsiveness as a hint to go away.

“Have you ever gone to Paris?” You ask, the sentence flying from your mouth and interrupting his rambles. It’s enough to shut him up, sitting up as you plant your hands firmly on the table in a weak attempt to not lay your head back down.

“No, I haven’t.”

His response is typical— you didn’t care whether or not he would say yes, leaning into the table as you stare into his eyes; it’s clear he’s flustered by the action, leaning back in reciprocation as his pupils land everywhere but on you. 

“If you had the chance to go to Paris right now, would you?” It takes a moment before Beomgyu nods his head hesitantly, mouth opening as he prepares a new line of questioning for you. But you’re quick to cut him off again, clapping your hands in satisfaction as you stand up— his eyes follow your every movement, face resembling a lost puppy as he watches the way you get ready to leave.

“Exactly; Paris really is beautiful by the way, definitely recommend going. So you can’t blame me for ditching our study session yesterday, can you?” Tilting your head, you watch the puzzles connect in his mind. “We can always make it up or whatever, not that big of a deal.”

Turning around, you don’t bother saying goodbye to Beomgyu; your only thoughts center on your beautiful, comfy bed and how you’ll spend the rest of your day in it. You can hear him calling out to you, the sound of a chair scraping against tile catching your attention as you force yourself to walk faster. 

“We have class in fifteen minutes— where are you going?!”

He’s gaining up on you. You don’t care if you have to sprint out of the building, but the last thing you’ll do is get stuck in another of Beomgyu’s self-righteous rambles as you curse wildly under your breath. 

“Home— I’m sick!” 

Carelessly, the exit door is slammed on Beomgyu’s face— by accident, of course. Glancing back, you’re able to catch a glimpse of his pathetic puppy face, clearly discouraged from trying to continue chasing after you. 

Normally, one would be compelled to feel guilty— but the day is simply too nice, the weather so perfect as a spring wind brushes past your skin; the sun that slightly worsens your headache truly doesn’t seem that bad anymore. 

A perfect day to drive around and shop, in your humble opinion. 

  ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 

This new purse would be divine in your collection. 

The luxury bag in your hands is sleek and smooth as your fingertips glaze over the details, entranced by its chic beauty as you let your thoughts wander— formal events, birthday dinners, oh, the places you could take it…

The price tag is no joke— it has you counting numbers in your head, pondering just how much of your monthly allowance you have left; if you buy it now, you’ll have to say goodbye to the girls’ trip at Yunjin’s beach house in Cancun…

Treat yourself, a tiny voice whispers in your mind, you can always beg your parents for more money. 

The devil on your shoulder is compelling— it warps your vision, a pout forming on your face as it practically forces your eyes to see the item in a heavenly light; the last item in that specific collection, and it’s right at your disposal, only a card swipe away…

“Pretty bag,” your little devil hums, “It would look nice with that little black dress you’re always looking for an excuse to wear.” 

His hand is delicate and teasing on your shoulder, his hold on you tight as he pulls you into him protectively. You’re not as surprised as you should be as you look up at Hueningkai, pouting face innocently looking up at him as you shake your head in distress. 

“I shouldn’t. I’m supposed to go with Yunjin to Cancun during spring break,” you whine, petulant as always as you refuse his reasoning— yet also refuse to let go of the bag and walk away. 

Anyone who knows you knows how you get about accessories— how obsessive you become with collecting them, your closet always filled to the brim as your need to buy becomes a borderline addiction. 

Maybe that’s why Hueningkai finds your dilemma so amusing, deft fingers snatching the purse from your hands and walking away wordlessly, leaving you to trot behind him as you continue to rant and stall, lingering by his side as a new item catches your eye; you inspect it curiously while the words uncontrollably fly out of your mouth. 

“I mean it’s not like I don’t have enough money, cause I could always ask my parents for more— and they’d gladly give it to me— but I always feel so horrible to ask for more, especially now that I’m supposed to be getting more independent, even though they always talk about spoiling me because I’m their only daughter, but still, I really want it but if I buy it I’ll have to ask them for more money, and it’s not even a big deal but it feels—“

“Oh my god, okay!” It seems you were too distracted by the tweed Chanel bag in your hands to anticipate the shopping bag that Hueningkai thrusts into your hands, exasperated at your ramblings as he swiftly manages to shut you up. 

You’re left speechless, sorting through the filling paper dumbly as you’re greeted with the same bag that Hueningkai snatched from you— your sparkly eyes look up at him in awe, unsure of what to say as he simply smiles at your reaction. 

“Huening…” you pout, clutching the bag to your chest with one hand as you slap his chest with the other— his very firm, strong chest… “you shouldn’t have.”

He’s quick to wrap an arm around your waist, pulling you into him and guiding you out of the store as he leans into you; you can smell his cologne so perfectly, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers softly into it.

“It’s okay,” he smiles, endeared by the way your eyes shine with anticipation to his words, “I know of a few ways you can make it up to me.” 

There’s no need to call your driver— Hueningkai knows the way to your apartment like the back of his hand, one relaxed at the steering wheel while the other plays with the hem of those skirts you always like to wear.

  ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥  

“You’re such a tease,” Hueningkai’s lips are plump and bitten at as you smile against them, his hands never straying from your ass as he grasps at it, enjoying the way you grind against him expertly.

“Just wanna make you feel good,” you pant, the warm feeling of his hands on your tight-clad thighs making you whine, your pussy slotted perfectly against him as you feel the way he grows harder underneath you.

“You’re always so good to me…” you trail off the moment his lips begin to wander down your neck, attempting to pull off your thin sweater as his hands immediately find themselves on your breasts. He can only let out a breathy laugh at your words, his teeth sinking in the plump flesh softly before his fingers are working your bra off. 

“Always buying you your favorite things?” He rasps, groaning softly at the sight of your breasts, fingers playing with your nipples as he looks up at you teasingly, “my princess will do anything for a pretty purse, hmm?” 

Frantically, you nod, his hips bucking into you as you feel the way his cock presses against you effortlessly; he’s as eager as you are, warm tongue on your skin making your thoughts run wild as you imagine what it would feel like to have him pressed against your cunt, helpless to your needs as your fingers card through his hair.

“Come on pretty girl, show me how grateful you are,” your thoughts are immediately dispelled as Hueningkai pushes you off, a gentle hand pushing away your hair before he’s guiding you down to your knees; his favorite sight, your doe eyes fluttering at him innocently as your hands make quick work of his belt. He can’t help but groan at the sight before him, lip caught in his teeth as he silently wishes for you to hurry. 

Hueningkai takes the belt from your hands, placing it to the side as he smiles down at you coyly— you can feel your stomach flip in anticipation, your mind going back to the many memories of your face pressed into the mattress as your bound hands desperately begged to touch him. Your fingers are delicate as they pull down his zipper— he’s become impatient, lips parting as he gets ready to make a witty comment. 

His thoughts are interrupted by a persistent ringing of your doorbell. 

He’s devastated as he flops back into your mattress— a loud groan escapes him, brows furrowing as he grows irritated at the ringing that echoes throughout your apartment. 

“Jesus, what the fuck is their problem?” He complains, running a hand through his hair before he sits back up; he’s smiling fondly at you as he caresses your cheek, sighing softly as he nods his head towards the door, “go see who it is, won’t you princess? Make it quick.” 

The look that you two share is nothing but mischievous, his lips connecting with yours in a chaste kiss as he helps you up; he’s tugging your sweater roughly over your chest, straightening your skirt before he’s sending you off— not without one last feel of you, the stinging sensation that lingers on your ass making you yelp as you send him a playful glare— he can only send you a sly look in return. 

This better be important, you can’t help but think, sighing heavily as another three persistent rings of your doorbell echo throughout— you groan, rolling your eyes as you swing the door open wildly.

You can’t say you’re surprised as Beomgyu stares back at you in shock, his wide eyes blinking rapidly as he takes you in.

“What.” Your tone is unwelcoming as you lean against your doorframe, arms crossing to cover your chest as you raise a brow at him in anticipation— he stutters uselessly, pushing up his glasses as his eyes fly about your apartment wildly— refusing to look at you for more than a second. 

“You didn’t answer my messages,” or calls, he whispers weakly, tugging at the hem of his sweater as he stares down at his dirtied shoes, his other arm hidden behind his back. He clears his throat, gulping as he looks into your eyes, pushing past the annoyed look that greets him as he continues, “You didn’t look well this morning, so I wanted to check up on you.”

You’re not sure what to say as Beomgyu whips out what was hidden behind his back—you’re leaning back as you stare at the cute, floral lunch bag that Beomgyu thrusts into your face, hesitantly taking it as you look back at Beomgyu in confusion; it feels warm in your arms.

“It’s soup.” He says, his ears reddening as he takes in the bewildered way you’re staring at him, “It’s my mom's recipe, it’s— it’s really good.”

“Yeah? We’ll be the judge of that,” Hueningkai has snuck up behind you as he wraps an arm around your waist, effectively pushing you back against him— you can feel how hard he is against the swell of your ass, eyes widening as you get what he’s hinting at, impatient fingers digging into your skin softly. 

Beomgyu seems just as surprised as you are at Hueningkai’s appearance, if not more. It becomes your turn to become embarrassed as you look over your shoulder to meet Hueningkai’s smug smile, his eyes glistening with curiosity as he looks back at Beomgyu, tilting his head as he frowns.

“Who are you anyway?” 

Beomgyu seems quite offended by his statement, looking at you in shock. You’re scrambling to cut Hueningkai off, letting out a soft laugh as you place a firm hand on his chest— the last thing you need is for Hueningkai to drive away one of the few people that would be willing to tutor you. 

“He’s just helping me out in some classes, that’s all,” you say, placing the lunch bag in his hands before you’re shooing him away, “Put this on the kitchen counter— I’ll see you in a bit.” 

Beomgyu doesn’t miss the look the two of you share— if anything, it makes his stomach twist in embarrassment, wanting to do nothing more than turn around and pretend as though he hadn’t interrupted you while you were— whatever it was. Hueningkai is cheery as he walks back into your apartment, not bothering to spare Beomgyu another glance as he disappears from your sight; your clearing throat is what gets Beomgyu’s mind back on track. 

“Right. Well,” you say, smiling awkwardly as you reach out for the door, “I’m feeling better. Thanks though!” 

Beomgyu is unable to get out another word as you’re closing the door on him, sneaking in a last comment as you cheerily yell “tell your mom I said thank you!” Uncaring of his reaction as the door shuts in his face; he suddenly thinks back to this morning, shuddering at the memory of him having to walk back to the other exit of the dining hall, towards the building his classes were in— your shared class, specifically— forced to ignore the strange looks everyone gave him as he stared straight at the ground. 

“Isn’t he younger than us? Why was he talking to me like that,” he quietly pouts, his protests left unheard as he’s forced to walk back home, eyes glued to the sidewalk in dismay— the feeling is dreadfully familiar.

“Well that’s sad,” Hueningkai remarks, peeking through your blinds as he watches Beomgyu’s figure grow smaller, “Are you actually gonna eat that?”

His eyes flick back to the lunch bag that sits innocently at your counter—you simply shrug, feeling oddly protective of the item as you tuck it behind you, leaning against the counter as you sigh softly.

“His mom made it, I’d feel bad if I didn’t,” you say, biting at your lips as you watch the way Hueningkai laughs in disbelief. You feel a bit bad as you think back to the way you turned him away, his expression pitiful and sad as you slammed the door on his face for the second time today. Yet you don’t get much time to think about it as Hueningkai begins to approach you, hands effortlessly finding themselves on your waist as your head tilts to meet his lips in a sweet, slow kiss. 

“Can’t believe he interrupted us for so long,” you feel him smile against your lips as he presses you back against the counter, ready to hike your skirt up as his other hand is eagerly wrapping your leg around his waist, “will you make it up to me?”

Beomgyu disappears from your mind like smoke— the smile against your lips is contagious, your hand gently pressing against his chest as you roll your hips teasingly into his, a broken moan falling from both your lips. 

“Of course.“

  ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥  

The rest of the day is quite underwhelming. 

You’ve been left with a good fuck and a nice purse, but as you lay in your bed, you can’t help but notice the way your headache never really left— it’s been nothing but a dull ache until now, the pain persistent and growing as you sigh in exasperation; none of your usual remedies have worked for you so far. 

Your body feels hot and weak, yet you’re left shivering as the blankets keep endlessly stacking on top of you. Not even your weighted blanket can lull you to sleep, your figure restless as you toss and turn in your bed, your phone buried in your puzzle of fabric. You’re in nothing but pain— you hate feeling like this, and the sudden grumbling of your stomach truly isn’t helping either. 

Left with no other options, you trudge to the kitchen, opening your fridge as you mentally brace yourself— it’s been a while since you’ve shopped for groceries; there’s not much in there that you could eat quickly, and you can’t find any energy within you to cook. 

The cool fridge door is welcoming against your skin— yet it’s also bothersome as you begin to shiver at the cold, closing the fridge quickly as you frown to yourself; whatever your body has come down with, it sure is annoying. Taking a moment to think, you suddenly find your eyes gravitating to a certain item; ergo, the floral lunch bag that remains untouched on your counter. 

It hasn’t been that long— an hour or two, at most. Whatever Beomgyu gave you couldn’t have spoiled by now, right? 

It’s soup, you recall him saying, biting your lip as you take the lunch bag to your small table, my mom's recipe. 

Unpacking the contents, you hum in surprise— yeah, this looks like a mothers cooking. The Tupperware he’s provided you with is filled to the brim with a nice broth that is still warm to the touch, a side of rice and vegetables also packed inside for you; you’re unable to stop a small awe from escaping you as you take out a small container of tea that has been stored inside for you as well, surprised at how much Beomgyu’s mother packed for you. 

Does she think we’re friends? Is this her way of making me stick with him? You wonder, biting at your lip as you hold back a laugh at the thought— a poor momma’s boy, struggling to make friends as his mother attempts to subtly help him. 

It’s no secret that Beomgyu was a bit of a loner— that’s why you reached out to him in the first place. You knew he wouldn’t be able to refuse you, because he couldn’t even give you the excuse that he had no time; that, and the hefty sum you gave him in exchange for tutoring someone as difficult as you. 

To a degree, you were self-aware— but it only came after the fifth person rejected your offer, saying that you probably wouldn’t even commit once you started. No matter how pissed you were when you were first told that, you were unable to disagree; unfortunately, it also sparked a deep spiraling of self-reflection as your new self-awareness brought you to Beomgyu; by then you were so desperate and ashamed that Beomgyu probably only accepted because he felt bad. 

Tutoring with Beomgyu had its benefits; he was nice, and quite the pushover as well. He never protested too much when you canceled on him, and the most you ever got from being annoying was a long scolding or an exasperated sigh from him— plus, now it seems that free food has been thrown into the mix.

Settling down at the table, you found yourself oddly restless as you went to fetch a small blanket from your bed— it was only then that you were able to find your phone, gasping as it landed roughly on the floor. Going back to the kitchen, you were now able to make yourself comfortable, sitting at your table as you took off the lids of everything that was packed for you— even the tea was still nice and warm in its thermos, everything packed with such care and attention to detail that you couldn’t help but take a picture of it. 

It was delicious as well; the soup was comforting and not too overwhelming on your senses as you mixed in bites of the white rice, fluffy and cooked to perfection as you melted in your seat with every spoonful. The vegetables were steamed and well seasoned; you practically squealed from happiness as you ate, not used to having such a big meal cooked by someone else these days. 

It filled you up quickly— the ginger tea was soothing against your throat, the taste of honey and lime mixed in leaving you warm and fuzzy as you tiredly trudged to bed; you’d have to beg Beomgyu to invite you to his mother’s house later. 

Maybe it did work, you briefly think to yourself, your mind quickly emptying as you make yourself comfortable in your bed, that only made me want to talk to Beomgyu more— maybe it wouldn’t be too bad being his friend. 

A soft laugh escapes you at the thought— your eyelids feel heavy as you struggle to stay awake, eager to sleep through this brief sickness that threatens to overtake you. After this, you’re sure it’ll be an easy recovery.

  ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥  

You think you’re dying. 

You’re hot and sweaty as you kick away your blankets for the umpteenth time, irritated as your body quickly begins to shiver instead. You’re only able to sleep for a few hours at a time, on the verge of tears as the clock on your bedside table reads nine pm— you’re unsure of what to do, already taking medication a few hours ago that seemed to do nothing. Your body is burning up as you toss and turn a bit more, dreading the new train of thought that enters your mind.

Maybe you should call someone.

Maybe they’ll know what to do, you think, holding back nausea that threatens to knock you out as you slowly sit up; scrolling through your contacts, you hesitantly press call to the first person you could think of. 

It rings once— then again, then a few times more before it goes straight to voicemail. 

“Hey, you’ve reached Yunjin’s voicemail. Please leave a messa—“ you sigh as you hang up, attempting to call a few times more before you give up entirely. 

She’s probably at a party. Or with some boy. 

Scrolling through your contacts, you choose your next person carefully— you’re sure they’re not busy right now, they’ve never been one to go to parties as often— 

Ning Ning’s phone goes straight to voicemail as well. 

Groaning, you lay back as you feel your head pounding, your mind racing as you attempt to go through a mental checklist of who you could call— but all you can conclude is that they’re busy, wouldn’t want to help, or you’re simply not that close to them.

“What the hell,” you mumble, pressing your face against your pillow as you sniffle softly— your headache has become unbearable, and you’ve always been a big crybaby whenever you got sick. 

“Do I not have any friends?” You ponder, your stomach sinking at the thought— there’s no way! If anything, your phone was always on silent from the number of notifications you got in a day; you always knew at least ten people when you walked in a room, the elite definition of a social butterfly— the last thing you would consider yourself is friendless. 

Maybe it’s just an unlucky time, you think, playing Russian roulette with your contacts as your finger presses on a random one; Hueningkai <;3 glares back at you in bright letters, your eyes narrowing as you consider calling— he’s always been one to spoil you, so it wouldn’t be too far-fetched for him to help you this once, right?

You’re nervous as the phone rings out into your room, your fingers tapping on your bed impatiently as you wait for him to pick up— just when you think he won’t, his voice greets your ears like a miracle. 

“Hey baby, what’s up?” His voice is a bit rough as he speaks, his speech slow and relaxed as your eyes narrow at the sound; he’s probably high again. 

“Hueningkai,” you cry out softly, unable to help the way you become emotional in your state— your voice is muffled, your face buried in your pillow as the pain becomes far too overwhelming. 

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” His voice has become more alert at the sound of your sniffling, the sounds of rustling from his side making you wince, your hand going to lower the volume of your phone. 

“Dunno. I’m sick,” you say, flipping over onto your back as you stare up at the ceiling— you feel tired, yet you’re unable to get comfortable enough to sleep. You hear more rustling on the other side of the phone— Hueningkai sighs, mumbling something to himself before he clears his throat.

“Why don’t you go to the doctor, hmm?” You frown at his words, shaking your head at the thought— you weren’t really expecting this outcome. 

“I— I can’t really get up, I feel dizzy…” you confess sheepishly, the realization that you truly don’t have enough energy to even stand for too long weighing down on you, “I was wondering if you could come over?” 

“Come over?” Hueningkai echoes, humming softly at the thought— it’s silent, the tension leaving you biting at your lips as you wait for him to respond.

“Listen, uhm,” you sigh softly at his words, closing your eyes as you attempt to ignore the way your stomach dips with disappointment, “I’m kinda busy right now. But if you want, you can call me tomorrow and I can take you to the doctor, ‘kay?” 

Attempting to swallow down your disappointment, you nod, a moment of silence passing before you realize that he can’t even see you. 

“Yeah. Okay.” There’s a lump in your throat as you speak, and you can’t help but feel the way your body heats up as the line falls silent; from embarrassment, this time. It’s awkward, but you can’t bring yourself to care as Hueningkai mumbles a soft “okay then. Goodnight,” the sound of him hanging up the last thing you hear before you’re shrouded in complete silence, the darkness of your room threatening to swallow you whole. 

The sound of your stomach growling angrily is the only thing that breaks the silence. 

A frustrated groan tears through you— you’re oddly emotional as you force yourself to sit up, pausing as you attempt to maintain balance; your head is spinning, and you’re beginning to realize how long it’s been since you last ate. The floor is cold under your feet as you trudge to the kitchen; you can’t bring yourself to turn on the lights, your slippers lost somewhere in your room as you feel a shiver wrack through your body. 

What will you do? Your fridge is practically empty and takeout doesn’t sound too appealing to you; you can feel tears well up in your eyes once more, a pout forming on your face as you slump down on a chair in defeat. Sighing, you think back to earlier— the homemade food Beomgyu brought to you, so soothing and filling it almost reminded you of the meals your cook back at home would make for you— maybe you could call your driver to take you home for a bit. 

It’s hours away and he’s probably off right now, you frown, checking the time on your phone just in case— 9:45— yeah, he’s definitely home by now. Of course, nothing is stopping you from calling him and telling him it’s an emergency, but then you’d feel far too guilty about ripping him away from his family just for you. 

He spends enough time at our home as it is, you think, placing your phone on the table as you go to massage your temples weakly. You need to eat something— maybe you’ll get some energy from it. But, picky as always, you can’t seem to find anything that sounds appealing to you; even the restaurant you frequently eat at doesn't seem to be doing anything for you, your mind inevitably going back to the one thing you were avoiding. 

Hesitantly, you pick up your phone— you can’t believe you’re actually going to try this, you think, biting at your lip before you finally press call; then again, this isn’t entirely out of character for you.

A lonely college student that doesn’t have many friends— if anything, he’s probably up studying right now, you think, frowning as you press your phone firmly to your ear, and if he was willing to check up on me, he should be willing to do this small thing for me too. 

“Hello?” The relief that floods through you is surprising; you’re becoming lax against your seat as the sound of Beomgyu’s uncertain voice meets your ears— his voice is gruff and soft as he speaks, unsure of whether or not you called him on purpose. 

“Choi Beomgyu,” you whine, already feeling yourself becoming unnecessarily emotional as you allow yourself to rant to him, “I’m sick. Can you do me a small favor?” 

On his end, Beomgyu is oddly surprised— why would you go to him of all people? He’s a bit weary as he listens to you carefully, thinking back to the way you were able to shut him out effortlessly; if anything, he must’ve been your last resort.

“What is it?” 

You’re unable to hold back the sigh of relief that escapes you— a smile graces your lips, and for the first time during this miserable experience, you don’t feel helpless. 

“Okay, hear me out please,” you start, sitting up as you clear your throat; unbeknownst to Beomgyu, you’re about to begin one of your infamous ramblings. 

“I know you might be busy studying or whatever, but I promise I’ll be quick. So, you remember the food you gave me earlier? I actually ate it, and it was really good! Your mom is a good cook, but then again, I’m pretty sure all moms are pretty good cooks. But like, I’m gonna be honest with you, I forgot to get groceries earlier this week, so I don’t really have much to eat— I could go order takeout or something but the thought of eating something greasy right now makes me wanna puke. I was thinking that since you probably don’t go out that much your mom might have given you extra servings of that soup, and I know it sounds really entitled and a bit bitchy but do you think you could please please please drop some off? 

“I promise I’ll pay you whatever and you seriously only need to drop it off at my door, it’s just that her cooking was really good and I almost started crying when I ate it— I get really emotional when I’m sick so I also think it’d be best for you to leave as quickly as you can; please please please please I promise I won’t ditch our study sessions for a good week at least, I’ll be good and study! I just think I’m gonna pass out right now and your mom’s food is the only thing I can think of right now… please?”

You feel out of breath as you finally finish your seemingly endless ramble— on the other side of the line, Beomgyu lets out an exasperated laugh. 

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll be there.” You’re not sure when you began to get emotional over nothing, but you’re surprised to feel hot tears streaming down your face at Beomgyu’s words, a few hiccups escaping you as you let out a soft really? “Yeah, I’ll just leave it at your doorstep.”

Standing up, you stumble a bit as you wipe your tears away. If you hadn’t scared Beomgyu away before, you surely did now. 

“Drop it off inside. My door’s gonna be unlocked.”

There’s an odd pause after you say that; you’re about to question what happened before you hear rustling on his side of the phone, Beomgyu’s soft hum the last thing you hear before he lets out a soft “okay. I’ll be there.” You’re unable to thank him as he’s quick to hang up— and the exhaustion that has been building up inside you all day is suddenly released, the promise of food making your brain at ease as you slowly make your way over to the couch. 

You’re so tired— a small nap wouldn’t hurt, right? It would be nice to wake up to the sight of food at my doorstep, you think, a small smile easing onto your face as you find yourself curling up at the end of your couch; oh, you really can’t help yourself— your eyelids are becoming excruciatingly heavy. 

For the umpteenth time today, you allow yourself to sleep— even if it’ll only last twenty minutes at most. 

  ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥  

Beomgyu is a little off-put as he peeks inside your apartment. 

He feels odd, extremely guilty, and a bit shameful as he pops his head inside, all of his calls have gone to voicemail as he chose the next best option— you did say your door was unlocked, after all. 

He expected you to be scolding him for taking so long after forty minutes had passed, but he found himself pleasantly surprised (and somewhat worried) when his phone remained entirely unbothered; so now here he stands, multiple heavy bags filled with ingredients in his hands as he kicks off his shoes clumsily. 

He finds you fast asleep on the couch; he’s extremely concerned at how trusting you are, but he decides to chalk it up to the fact that your skin is burning hot to the touch and you’re probably not thinking straight— Beomgyu is quick to pull his palm away from your forehead the moment you stir even slightly, jolting into action as he flees into your kitchen instead. 

Placing the bags on your table, he looks back at you in worry— all he can do for now is wet a few paper towels, wringing out as much water as he can before he’s making his way to you cautiously; you’re burning up and sweaty as he dabs the towel on your skin, tutting softly as he finally places the towel on your forehead. 

“I knew you weren’t feeling well,” he scolds you softly, pulling the blanket that has fallen off your shoulders back on you carefully before he’s pulling away, rolling his eyes at the sight, “you’re lucky you practically pay my bills.”

Quietly, Beomgyu gets to work— he feels a bit bad for rummaging through your kitchen so boldly, but he’s sure you wouldn’t really mind if you woke up; you’re the one who invited him in the first place. 

At some point, Beomgyu finds himself quite comfortable in your kitchen— it’s quite spacious and allows him to get lost deep in his thoughts; he gets so comfortable, in fact, that he’s unable to pick up on the fact that you’re wide awake and slowly trudging your way to him. 

“Choi Beomgyu,” the sound of your voice is enough for him to practically jump out of his skin, narrowly missing his finger as he hurriedly drops the knife in his hands, spinning around wildly as he presses himself tightly against the counter— your tired and puffy face is eerily close to his as your lidded eyes stare up at him, still heavy with sleep as you frown softly. 

“What,” you mumble softly, taking in his flustered expression before your eyes are wandering to the mess behind him— the cutting board of vegetables, the stovetop that is busy with two pots simmering away, a familiar aroma filling your apartment; your eyes flick back to the way he seems both guilty and embarrassed, your head tilting as he watches you slowly piece everything together, “what is all this? Where’s your mom's food?”

Well, maybe not.

Beomgyu sighs— the sight of him shaking his head in dismay is enough to have your eyes widening with surprise, watching as he slowly turns his back to you; the constant rhythm of him cutting vegetables is the only sound that fills the room, and it seems that Beomgyu won’t be answering your question any time soon; you’re ready to protest and annoy him until he talks, but it seems he’s quick to beat you to it. 

“My mom wasn’t the one who made it,” he sighs, putting his knife down as he quickly goes to the pot of soup to give it a mix; your eyes are fluttering shut at the smell, a small smile gracing your lips as you fight the urge to have a taste then and there; but you’re snapped back to reality from his words, stammering as you look at him in confusion. 

“But— you said it was—“

“My mother's recipe,” he draws out, dropping the seasoned vegetables into a third pot as you watch them get steamed, “I’m the one who made the food.”

You think back to the floral lunch bag he handed to you hours earlier; how he seemed so hesitant to give it to you, oddly pouty as he watched the way you were quick to hand it to someone else— you feel yourself become embarrassed by your behavior, oddly defensive as you remember how much you begged for him to give you another taste.

“Oh. Okay,” you say, clearing your throat as you slump back down on a chair— you found it entirely too exhausting to be standing for that long, “it was the next best thing for me anyway— my driver is off right now so I have no one to take me anywhere.”

“I see you’re feeling better,” Beomgyu mumbles, rolling his eyes at your actions as your usual bratty self resurfaces; he almost found your delirious, emotional self from earlier more welcoming than this, forced to listen to more of your ramblings as you watch him cook. 

“No. Not at all actually,” you complain, the ache in your body suddenly much more noticeable than it was a few minutes ago as you cross your legs on the chair; you’re huddled up in your blanket again, staring at his back as you practically take out your pain on him, “my head feels like its gonna explode— my body’s so fucking hot but I can’t take this blanket off or else I’ll feel like I’m freezing my ass off. I don’t know what to do because I never get sick like this; if anything, I should’ve called our family doctor instead of you.” 

You feel a bit bad as the words come out sharper than you intended— Beomgyu is easy to read as he flinches at your statement, head ducked down and an awkward silence permeating the room as he says nothing in response. 

“…you’re lucky your mom taught you how to cook,”  you backtrack, your voice oddly soft as you press your lips together; you refuse to say anything more as you curl up tightly on the chair, laying your head down on the table as you attempt to let your blanket shield you from the world— you’re back to your unpredictable, emotional self as you feel a lump forming in your throat, a feeling of longing forming inside you as you wish you were home instead of here, pestering your poor tutor in exchange for a hefty sum of money.

“Hey,” his voice is much closer than you expected it to be as you peek up from your small fortress, raising a brow as you stare at the glass of water and pills in his hand, “take this. I’m guessing you haven’t taken any medication for your fever in a while.”

A soft ‘hmph’ is all that leaves you as you reluctantly accept the medicine (because the truth was that he was right). It isn’t until he shows you what he’s giving you as you take the pills begrudgingly; you hate that he can see through you so easily. Chugging down the glass of water, you fail to notice how he waits beside you patiently, sending him a petulant look as you wait for him to say something— instead, he raises a small thermometer to your forehead, taking your temperature as he lets out a soft tsk.

“Your temperature is way too high. Eat, then go back to sleep,” he says, only leaving your side to get you a proper serving of soup; it’s the same meal you had earlier, but you’re oddly excited as you notice the hefty amount of rice he gave you, a new side of him peeking through as he watches you carefully— it’s only when you send him a questioning look that he becomes red in the face, clearing his throat awkwardly as he points back to the mess behind him.

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of it,” he mumbles, not bothering to look you in the eyes as he quietly begins to take care of the dishes. 

“I wasn’t going to,” you remark, your mouth still full of rice as you scoff softly at his excuse— you find yourself oddly annoyed with him as you take in just how much he’s doing for you, unable to fathom anyone else doing all this for you, unprovoked.

He must really need the money, you reason with yourself, unsure of why else he would do such a thing— you roll your eyes at the thought, any intimacy that might have come from all this dissolving into thin air as you become oddly irritated with him. 

But you will admit, this soup really hits the spot. 

  ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥  

You’re out like a light moments after. 

If Beomgyu said he was surprised, it would definitely be a lie; you were barely awake on your couch for more than five minutes, and by the time Beomgyu finishes cleaning up and putting away the leftover ingredients in your fridge (which was criminally empty for someone who had so much money) you’re already curled back up in your corner of the couch, your temperature only having gone down slightly as you begin to toss and turn in your sleep. 

The wet paper towels that Beomgyu had placed on you earlier are folded neatly on your coffee table— Beomgyu huffs softly as he discards it, wetting some more before he’s placing it carefully on your forehead; he’s unsure of what else to do now, standing back awkwardly as he considers staying to watch over you— your condition seemed pretty serious from how high your temperature was, and it certainly didn’t help that you straight up rammed into the kitchen table and injured your shin from how unstable you were. 

And that’s when you became a crybaby once more. 

He can still see the lingering tears that cling to your lashes, a soft pout forming on your lips as you shiver slightly at the touch of the cool towel. What to do, he ponders, sitting on the couch opposite to you as he watches over you carefully, he’s not sure if there’s anyone else that could take care of you. 

Hell, the fact that he’s here of all people is enough to prove that to him; but also, he should really be studying for that upcoming physics exam that has been concerning him a bit. He glances back at you— calm, undisturbed, only shifting every once in a while as you tuck yourself deeper into the blanket you wrapped tightly around yourself— and he sighs, finding himself oddly torn as he wonders whether he should leave you or not. 

He could go back home and study, but he knows that he wouldn’t get very far, thoughts of you and your condition plaguing his mind as he desperately tried to focus. His thoughts are disrupted as you groan softly in discomfort, shifting restlessly on the couch before your eyes are fluttering open, locking with his instantly. 

“You’re still here,” you murmur, squinting at him as you cough softly, “thought you’d be gone by now.” 

Beomgyu doesn’t like the way you’re looking at him; it’s oddly condescending as he finds himself standing up instantly, clearing his throat as he looks away from you and your searing gaze. 

“Yeah,” he says, feeling strangely flustered as he makes his way to the front door; your eyes follow him the whole way there, and he feels so small under your gaze as he goes to slip his coat on. “I was just leaving.”

“Oh. ‘kay,” you shrug, shifting restlessly on the couch before you’re turning your back to him, curled into a ball as you wave at him weakly, “I’ll Venmo you later.”

He can’t help but feel bristled at your careless attitude, still not used to the way you’re always ready to spend money at the drop of a hat despite tutoring you for weeks now. Tying his shoes, he can’t help but glance at you one last time; it pains him to admit he’s slightly worried for you, but the rational part of him tells him it’s just because he doesn’t want you calling him to come back the moment you’re feeling nauseous again. 

Yet you remain still, resembling a rock as your figure is hidden under countless piles of blankets— judging by the steady rise and fall of it, he figures you already fell back asleep. 

It takes Beomgyu an embarrassingly long time to leave— but only because he wanted to make sure you wouldn’t wake up spontaneously and start whining, of course— you remain dead to the world the whole time he watches over you. 

By the time Beomgyu finally makes it out of your doorway, he feels more frustrated than anything. Because even once he gets home to study, he can’t help but keep his phone close-by, worried that you’ll call out of the blue asking for help. 

His phone remains silent all night.

  ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥  

The next time Beomgyu sees you, he’s reminded as to why you had so many difficulties getting a tutor.

You’re flashy and perfect as always as you stand in the doorway of his apartment, arms crossed and eyes no-doubt narrowed behind your expensive designer shades. Your foot is tapping impatiently at the concrete outside as you tilt your head in annoyance— Beomgyu had made the mistake to ignore the first few rings of his doorbell, much too distracted by his game to remember that it would be you waiting for him.

“So? You gonna let me in, or do you need to tidy up first?” Beeomgyu’s mantra consists of how short your lesson will be today and the paycheck he’ll get out of it— one of the perks of you being desperate was that Beomgyu got to raise his rates shamelessly— and it takes Beomgyu a second to push past your intimidating and prickly demeanor to nod his head and step aside, watching as you push your shades up and secure them on your head.

It takes you a second to slip out of your shoes as you daintily put them aside, and Beomgyu can feel his ears become hot as he watches the way you wince slightly at the pair of guest slippers he hands you— though he tries to tell himself you don’t mean to be like this, a soothing lie that lets him lead you to his living room as he ignores his insecurity.

“Wait, can’t we just go to your room? I don’t feel like studying on the couch right now,” the yawn that rips through you is uncontrollable as you face away and cover your mouth politely— Beomgyu tries to not let his jaw drop to the floor in response. For someone who had never been to his apartment, you sure were demanding. He shouldn’t feel too surprised though, given how blunt you’ve proved to be the entire time he’s known you. 

He’s unable to say no as he gathers the textbook and notebooks on the table and leads the way; he can feel his heart pounding against his chest in fear that you’ll judge him, heart pounding slightly as he goes to lead you to where his room is. (He just hopes you’ll judge him internally, at the very least.)

Meanwhile, you’ve been biting back a smile this whole time; you know you’ve been quite bitchy to him this whole time, but you’d like to think it’s karma for making you study first thing at nine in the morning— his excuse had been the long shift he’d have to cover straight after the tutoring session. 

You’re quite surprised at the size and state of his apartment, expecting something much… cheaper, as you kept in mind how quick Beomgyu was to do something whenever you offered him money. Yet as you walk to his room, you’re left quiet as you take in the way everything in his home practically shines; his coffee table, the couch that lacks any crumbs or trash, and his carpet that seems to be recently vacuumed. 

You find yourself so caught up in the appearance of his apartment that you fail to notice another presence in the living room; specifically, one that lets out a loud chirp, your body jumping back from the startle and eyes growing wide as you search for the source of the sound— your eyes land on a cage tucked in the corner of the room, a bright green bird with big eyes staring at you curiously from within. 

“What the fuck is that?” you say softly— much louder than you intended, really— and Beomgyu is turning back around to see what you’re talking about, eyes widening as he realizes you’re currently staring down his bird with a slight wonder. 

“Oh— that’s Toto,” Beomgyu says, rushing to put everything in his arms down and scurrying after when he notices you beginning to get closer; he’s hovering over you, taking in your expression of curiosity carefully before he continues. “He’s my parrot.”

You let out a soft oh. You seem rooted to your spot as you watch the bird continue to climb around the cage, clearly much more active now that Beomgyu is nearby; the said man notes your obvious curiosity, and before he can stop and have any second thoughts, he’s reaching over you to open the cage. 

“Wait wait, what’re you—” a yelp escapes you and you’re jumping back the moment Beomgyu is reaching inside, hiding behind him and peeking over his shoulder to watch the way he extends a finger out to the bird— Toto— your mouth falling open dumbly as you take in the way the bird immediately climbs onto his hand.

Beomgyu is careful to take him out; you’re still peeking from behind him as you stare down his bird with wide eyes, body tensed as though it could fly away any given moment— you’re flinching in surprise when he’s turning to face you, hands coming up in defense as the bright green bird swings along, not a thought in its beady eyes as it’s suddenly thrust into your face— you step back again, the movement sudden and startling the bird as its wings flap slightly, which in turn startles you again— Beomgyu merely watches in amusement, and he tries his best to contain his laugh in fear of facing your prickly attitude. 

“What the hell,” you breathe out softly, brows twitching and knitting together as you stare at Toto as though it were a foreign creature you’ve never seen, “It’s so… weird looking.”

Beomgyu can only gawk at your comment. 

“He’s— he’s not,” is all Beomgyu can say in rebuttal, offended as he looks over at Toto, examining him in reassurance before he pulls his pet closer to his chest. 

“He’s a handsome little bird,” Beomgyu mutters, and you’re sure you definitely weren’t supposed to hear that, watching in amazement as Beomgyu strokes Toto’s head fondly, the said bird bowing its head so he can get better access, “you’re such a cool guy, don’t listen to her Toto.”

Glancing back at you, Beomgyu seems to realize what he’s just said, and blushes a soft pink— though you’re not sure why he’s acting so shy, you’ve literally been standing there the whole time— and he clears his throat awkwardly, casting his gaze back to his pet and running his finger along the bird gently before he’s speaking again. 

“Do you wanna hold him?”

“I— what?!” you say indignantly, eyes growing the size of saucers as you stare at him, acting as though he’s just told you something extremely offensive, “I don’t want that thing near me, what if it— it…”

You’re trailing off slowly— Beomgyu looks absolutely dejected. You can tell he’s trying not to show his hurt, avoiding your gaze and staring down at Toto instead, but he simply reminds you too much of a kicked puppy to let you continue your baffled ramblings; a moment passes where the two of you don’t say anything, but you finally break the second Beomgyu looks like he’s about to put Toto back in. 

“Fine.”

He looks back at you immediately; his eyes look like they’ve been filled with stars. 

“Give— give me the bird,” you mumble offhandedly, outstretching your hand awkwardly and finding yourself unable to look at him for once; you can feel the heat of embarrassment threatening to creep onto your skin, but you will it away and bite your cheek as you wait for Beomgyu to do something.

After a second, you feel it; the pressure on your finger, the weird texture and the claws that dig into your skin as the bird’s little feet wrap around you, unable to contain the way you shudder at the feeling; your arm has gone rigid and you’re reluctant to look at the pet that is now perched on your hand, afraid that it might attack you or something— but after a deep breath and some mental encouragement, you do it anyway. 

This thing is so fucking creepy, you find yourself thinking, face screwing into one of disdain as you take in the way it simply remains still, freaking you out even further when it suddenly tilts its head in curiosity. 

It begins to climb up your arm. 

“What the fuck, what the fuck,” you breathe out in a panic, extending your arm away from you as steadily and quickly as you can, the thing now perched on your forearm as you bite back a squeal of fear— you’re looking over at Beomgyu in a haste, expression blatantly screaming help me!— and he quickly springs into action the moment your eyes meet. 

“Toto,” Beomgyu coos, clicking his tongue and reaching out to place his hand at Toto’s feet; but the bird only continues to climb up and runs away from Beomgyu, a long, slightly terrified, groan leaving your lips as you can only watch it in horror, much too afraid to jerk your arm and send Toto flying; the moment it’s talons find its way onto your shoulder, you find yourself looking away and praying. 

“Toto,” Beomgyu tries again, a little stressed now as he watches his bird perch peacefully on your shoulder— you, on the other hand, are in utter distress, shoulders tense and eyes screwed shut as you mentally pray for the thing to not peck at you— you think you’ve started to hold your breath now. 

Through your eyes that peek slightly in fear, you’re able to see Beomgyu reach down at the storage unit beneath the cage and grab something; Toto seems to shift on your shoulder from the sight, and you grow tense as you wonder what the hell the man could be up to— with another call of Toto’s name, the bird finally jumps off your shoulder and over to Beomgyu.

Your body practically slumps in relief. 

Beomgyu is back to holding Toto in his hand; your brows furrow at the sight of it eating something strange, your obvious confusion making Beomgyu smile slightly.

“It’s millet,” he explains, slowly moving to put Toto back in the cage before he places the said millet inside as well; with one last gentle scratch at Toto’s head, Beomgyu closes the cage. “It’s like a treat for him.”

“Whatever,” you say dismissively, glancing at Toto one last time before you shudder and turn away, “I don’t wanna see him again.”

Beomgyu isn’t too offended by your comment; if anything, he smiles in amusement, muttering softly that Toto seems to like you— you make a point to blatantly ignore his comment.

Any confidence Beomgyu had built up from before disappears the moment you finally arrive before the door that leads to the room; he’s found himself nervous once more, shifting the materials in his arms and reach out to open his door cautiously; he hopes you didn’t take notice of the way his hand shook slightly.

His room is no different than the rest of the apartment as you stand in the doorway, curiously surveying it all; your brow raises in amusement as you take in the way his personality is scattered throughout the small room. His bed is neatly made and the sheets are pressed to perfection, and the nightstand contains a stack of books that are both thick and annotated. 

In front of you, you watch Beomgyu awkwardly place the books in his arms down on the bed, pushing up his glasses as you allow your eyes to continue drifting around— they instantly land on the desk setup in the corner of the room, your eyes widening as you’re able to recognize how expensive the setup is; two monitors display a random game you seem to recognize, and you let your curiosity get the best of you as you approach it slowly. 

The keyboard is lighting up before you and a headset is hung on one of the monitors, and you let out a soft tsk as you take in the empty coffee cups beside the mouse, the only messy thing about his whole room; you wouldn’t be surprised if he’s spilled the liquid over the setup before. 

What surprised you the most however, are the countless picture frames and cute figurines that are scattered all over the room— a lucky cat is perched right at his windowsill, waving at you repeatedly as you’re unable to hold back your laugh of bewilderment; everything seems to be dusted and well taken care of, you’re surprised Beomgyu can ever find the energy to do such things. 

“You play League of Legends?” Is all you say, turning around as you meet Beomgyu’s flustered face; Beomgyu had been on the verge of melting into a puddle of embarrassment the entire time you looked around his room, unsure of what to say or do the moment you approached his gaming setup. He was sure you’d make fun of him, but instead he’s pleasantly surprised as he silently hopes his face isn’t a raging red at the moment. (It definitely is, but you’re kind enough to give him a break and not tease him about it.)

“Oh— yeah. You play?” It’s oddly adorable to watch the way his eyes light up and his whole body perks up excitedly, but you find it even more adorable to watch the way he deflates as you bark out a laugh of surprise, your whole face lighting up as you cover your mouth in apology, feeling a slight pity for managing to make him look like a kicked puppy again. 

“Fuck no!” You say in amusement, unable to imagine yourself doing such a thing, “Huening used to be obsessed with it though.” 

You roll your eyes at the memory, recalling all the nights back in high school where he’d leave you alone in his bed, staying up late gaming with his friends while you hid in his room during social gatherings— but now he “outgrew that childish game,” according to him. If anything, you think he outgrew gaming all together, especially after you expressed how ridiculous the whole thing seemed to you. 

“Huening, the guy from your apartment?” Beomgyu says meekly, eyes downcast as he flips through his notes mindlessly; you scoff, flopping on the bed next to him as you cross your legs daintily.

“Yeah, the guy from my apartment,” you say, leaning in to try and catch his gaze, “what, you jealous?” 

Your comment is enough to have Beomgyu a sputtering mess; you don’t think he could get any redder than he is now as he shoves his notebook into your lap, clearing his throat weakly as he scoots away from you, leaving an offending amount of space as he squeaks out a defensive no. 

“Wouldn’t blame you if you were,” you tease, staring down at the notes as you try to decipher what the hell it could all mean— it’s embarrassing when you’re left on your own for a good minute, unable to say anything about the material before Beomgyu is finally jumping to your aide and explaining things to you; slowly, you settle down and allow him to begin the session. 

  ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥  

You’d like to pat yourself on the back for lasting so long. Lasting so long without being difficult, that is, because the hour of peace Beomgyu got was short lived before you became a short-tempered brat before him—the only thing that surprises him at this point is the confidence you get to be like this all the time.

“I seriously don’t get this stuff,” you whine, kicking Beomgyu softly as you hold back a smile— it was clearly done to tease him— laying back on his bed as you cross your arms childishly, “I think I should just change my major.” 

Beomgyu isn’t surprised that you find that so easy to say— for a moment, he dreams of being able to do the same when times get tough, but he was quick to come back to reality as he watched you kick at him petulantly; you managed to lay on his bed and make yourself comfortable, splayed over his pillows as you continued to mess around with him. 

“Can’t we take a break? I’ve been good,” you pout, tapping your fingers on your bicep as you look at him sweetly— Beomgyu has to look away in order to say no, tapping his pencil on his notebook as he quietly prays for you to settle down and focus again. 

“Come on, you’re lucky I showed up in the first place,” Beomgyu’s gaze is glued to his notebook as you roughly sit up, your denim shorts riding up your thighs as you kneel close to him; taking a deep breath to calm himself proves to be a mistake as he gets a good smell of your expensive perfume, biting his lip as he watches you try to get his attention by getting closer to him.

“You only showed up because I did you a favor,” it’s odd that you find the way his voice trembles and his ears turn red adorable, but then again, you’d be a little sad if a man didn’t react that way to you. 

You have him wrapped around your finger— it’s a fact that dawns on you as you watch the way he doesn’t shut you down and forces you to study. Scooting closer to him, you lean down, pressing your cheek against his bicep as you stare down at the countless notes that lay before him. 

“Well, that and because you’re kinda cute,” you admit, holding back a smile at the way he flinches at the sudden contact, “But seriously, I’m so bored.” 

Beomgyu thinks you might have gone insane as he watches the way you take the materials in his lap away from him, setting it to the side before you’re stringing yourself across his lap, stretching cutely as you stare up at him with wide doe eyes— he’s quickly looking back up as he fails to find the strength to push you off. 

“I can’t believe I actually came here this early,” you say, adjusting yourself on his thighs before you’re grabbing his hand, playing with his sleeve coyly as you wonder how far you can take this, “How’d you afford this place all by yourself? It’s in a good area too.” 

“I didn’t,” Beomgyu stutters out, clearing his throat as he pulls his hand away from your grasp shyly, “I have a roommate— Yeonjun.” 

“Choi Yeonjun? Captain of the baseball team?” You say, eyes widening as you watch Beomgyu nod softly; you’re sitting up, ignoring the way Beomgyu visibly relaxes at the action, “Is he here right now?” 

“No, he’s out,” Beomgyu frowns, watching as the gears turn in your head, your pout obvious as you take in his response, “he won’t be home for another three hours.” 

How in the hell did he and Beomgyu become roommates? It’s a question you’re quite literally fighting the urge to ask, but knowing that one of the most attractive guys you’ve had your eye on currently lives in the same house as the man before you makes you want to stick around longer— though you think you might be too obvious about it, judging by the way Beomgyu’s frowning at you. 

“That’s nice,” you hum, feeling a bit bad for the way Beomgyu looks away in defeat, “but that means we’re all alone here?” 

Your question is enough to have Beomgyu sitting up straight— your tone is so dangerous, the way you slowly crawl to him even more so.

He quickly finds himself scooting back, eyes flying around wildly as he almost falls off the bed— you’re quick to catch him, pulling him by the collar of his sweater as his adam’s apple bobs visibly. His long hair falls back and his face is left exposed to you, your body finding comfort on top of his as you straddle his thighs comfortably. His glasses are left on the tip of his nose as his ears quickly turn red, cheeks dusted with the same color as he uselessly props himself up on his elbows; you’re practically nose to nose as you tower over him, your cute blouse hanging and exposing your breasts in a way that has Beomgyu staring straight above your head— in return, the reflection of your sunglasses is all that meets him. 

“Do you ever take a break?” You ask, letting go of his collar before you’re gently smoothing it out; he’s shivering at your touch, eyes fluttering shut nervously as he exhales at the feeling of your warm hand— he knows you can see the way he tenses as you begin to trail your palm down his chest, pressing teasingly where his heart resides as you tilt your head cutely.

“Ever stop studying and just…. Take care of yourself?” The implications of your words couldn’t be more obvious with the way your voice drops, your thighs clenching around his body as you watch his breath hitch at the action; your fingers delicately drum against his chest as you wait for him to say something, to push you off and tell you to never speak to him again— instead, he shakes his head, his shyness intensifying as his eyes remain shut. 

“Will you let me take care of you?” You breathe out, entranced with the way his eyes finally open to meet yours— within them, he sees no malice or mockery, just an intense fire and need that has his stomach twisting and his hands grabbing at his neatly pressed sheets in anticipation.

Softly, he nods. 

You’ve never experienced this before; you’ve never had a man pliant and weak under you, ready to take whatever you give him with adoring eyes that sparkle under the lights. You’re so used to being the one in that position, of allowing yourself to be used and molded how they’d like— so to say you’re quite surprised at the thrill you feel is an understatement. 

“You’re like a little puppy,” you mumble sweetly, reaching up to caress his heated cheeks— the whine that escapes him is involuntary, your eyes clouding with lust as you take in the way he reacts to your nickname; leaning up, you grab the collar of his sweater as you guide him to sit up with you— you’re in awe of how obedient he is as he follows your command, hands hovering politely as he waits for your next move. 

“Do you like it when I call you that?” You tilt your head, laying your hands by Beomgyu’s collar bones before they’re sliding up, intertwining lazily behind his nape as you’re leaning in teasingly; you’re so close to him, you can feel his breath fan on your face as you tease the corner of his lips with your own— you’re pulling away the moment he tries to chase you, giving him an expectant look as you wait for him to answer your question. “Puppy?” 

“Y—yes, I…” he’s unable to finish his sentence the moment he feels your chest press against his, soft breasts teasing him as he squeezes his eyes shut; you’re everywhere, your lips planting feather-like kisses on his cheeks as you begin to overwhelm his senses. Your warm thighs that encase him, your hands that play with the nape of his hair, your perfume that he gets to inhale as you tilt your neck closer to him— hell, as you reach his jaw, he’s able to smell your shampoo, the scent addicting and no doubt expensive as you press yourself firmly against him.

This is insane. There should be no universe where Beomgyu should have one of the richest girls in his university pressed against him and on his lap, and there’s no way he’s the one submitting himself so pathetically in it. Yet here he is, practically leaning into your touch and chasing after you the moment you pull away, feeling a whine escape from his throat as he finally finds the courage to place a hand on your hip; keeping you in place, fingertips splayed over the swell of your ass as you try and fail to hide the smile that breaks out on your face. 

“Stupid puppy wants me to kiss him?” You pout mockingly, and instead of feeling the usual shame bubbling within him from your condescending tone, Beomgyu can only feel himself melt pathetically, pouty face and shining doe eyes begging you to give in as you brush away a strand of hair that fell in his eye; Beomgyu’s eyes flutter shut at the gentle touch, lips parting before he finally feels you swoop in and take him by surprise. 

Your lip gloss is sweet and sticky as you ravish the boy below you, able to feel his inexperience and eagerness with the way he’s practically ready to push you back into the mattress— but he holds himself back, allowing you to swipe your tongue along his lip and tease him before you’re venturing further. 

It’s all so lewd and desperate, and Beomgyu feels dazed by the time you’re finally pulling away, a Cheshire grin on your face as you swipe his bottom lip that’s shining with lip gloss and saliva; like instinct, his lips part and close around your thumb, eyes never straying from yours as you feel his tongue swipe over the finger teasingly— your gaze darkens at the sight, mind racing with all the things you could do to him as you watch the way his plush lips circle around the digit. 

The pop that sounds throughout the room when you pull away is enough to make you let out a soft groan, your eyes tracing along his body until you finally find the very thing you’re curious about— smiling, you’re not as surprised to find his dick straining against the neat fabric of his trousers.

“Can I touch you, pup?” You ask, your voice breathy and deep as you wait patiently for his answer; once again, he gulps, shining eyes just as dazed as you are before he finally lets out a soft yes; slowly, your perfectly manicured hand makes its way down to his khaki trousers, playing with the button before you’re finally undoing it— the sigh that Beomgyu lets out once you undo his zipper is practically lethal, your lips twitching in delight at the sound.

It’s cute to see the way his hips buck up into the air as you reveal his boxers, helping you pull down his pants until you’re face to face with the very thing you’ve been wanting the most. It’s odd, but it seems as though Beomgyu brings out a side you didn’t think existed, a teasing smile creeping its way onto your face as you plant your core firmly on him; he’s letting out a strangled gasp at the sudden pressure and warmth, his eyes screwing shut as his lips are falling open, the sight tempting as you resist the urge to kiss him again. 

Beomgyu is like an instrument under your touch, and you’re eager to learn how to play as you slowly begin to rock your hips back and forth; the reaction is instant for him as he bucks up into you, whimpering cutely as his eyes remain shut the whole time. Your thighs feel so soft against his own, and he’s sure he won’t last long if he’s forced to inhale your intoxicating scent the whole way through. 

It isn’t until you’re climbing off his lap that Beomgyu’s eyes are finally flying open, meeting yours in a confused haze as he allows you to push him back and tower over him as he lays; he looks so enticing and pretty with his hair splayed out around the sheets, lidded eyes and fucked out expression oddly addicting to you as you go to straddle one of his thighs. 

“You’re so cute,” you coo, pushing his sweater up as you run your nails teasingly over his stomach— you laugh softly as he flinches at the feeling. Slowly, you’re pulling the waistband of his boxers down until his cock is finally springing out and smacking against his stomach; his tip is red and sticky as a line of precum is left connected to his stomach, his eyes shutting in embarrassment once more as he turns his head to the side in an effort to turn away. He’s so long as you take him in, appreciating the vein that runs along the curve of his shaft with a soft hum.

“Please,” he whines, covering his face with his hands as his body grows hotter the longer you stare at him; you can only laugh fondly at the sight, watching the way his hips buck up uselessly at the sound. 

“My puppy, you’re so pretty,” you sigh, spitting in your hand before you’re finally reaching down to grab ahold of him; the feeling is unexpected as Beomgyu lets out a soft yelp under you, his cries dying out the moment you’re beginning to stroke him teasingly. 

“How long has it been since you let out some steam?” You tease, running your thumb across his tip and spreading the precum along as he simply moans in response; he’s so whiny and breathy as none of your words seem to register in his head, enamored by the pretty girl that’s sitting on his thigh and stroking his cock so well. 

You can’t help yourself when you readjust to kneel between his legs, his face still covered by his hands as he doesn’t anticipate your next move— Beomgyu swears he almost came the moment he felt your mouth wrap around his tip. Your mouth is practically watering around Beomgyu’s cock as you slowly take him in, surprised by his length yet determined to hear more of his pathetic gasps and whines as you slowly take him in. 

“Oh god, oh god, you’re so— y-you’re so warm, oh,” Beomgyu is a babbling mess as his hands land helplessly on your head, unsure of what to do with them as he feels the tip of your nose press against his navel; his eyes are practically rolling back as he feels the mess you’re making on his cock, your mouth so hot and wet he can’t help the way he subtly thrusts into it.

“I’m sorry, I— I didn’t mean to…” his words are dying on his tongue the moment he feels you reach for his hand and pull back, guiding him to set the pace as you run your tongue over his tip— that’s enough to have Beomgyu whining and out of breath, but he’s able to pull himself together as he slowly begins to fuck your mouth. 

“Shit, you’re so pretty, I can’t believe you’re doing this to me,” Beomgyu breathes out, fascinated with the way you remain completely cool even as he begins thrusting his cock into your throat, “so good.”

The sudden confession doesn’t process in Beomgyu’s mind, but it has your mind reeling as you close your eyes, determined to make this man fall apart under you as you ignore the flutter of butterflies in your stomach. 

It takes Beomgyu a second to find his pace as he’s gently stroking your hair, face warm and shining with embarrassment as he tries to ignore how inexperienced he may seem— contrary to what he might think, you don’t really care; the only thing you care for is how melodic he sounds as his hips begin stuttering into your mouth, the feeling of your tongue running along his shaft too much for him as his breath hitches pathetically. 

“Wait wait wait— oh my god, I’m so— Ah, please don’t stop,” he’s whimpering and babbling at your touch, his hand attempting to pull you off as he nears his release; you only sink further in retaliation, the loud moan that Beomgyu lets out giving you satisfaction as you feel his cum spurting against the back of your throat— your eyes are barely able to catch his expression as he throws his head back, hips stilling entirely as he rides out his orgasm. 

Beomgyu is still trying to catch his breath when he feels his hips bucking subconsciously, the feeling of you pulling away making him whine softly from the sensitivity. Slowly, his eyes flutter open, his glasses skewed and his vision a haze as his gaze meets yours— he’s able to catch the way you swallow, your mouth empty as a teasing grin sneaks onto your face.

His stomach flips at the sight. 

He’s unsure of what to do as you sit up, your hair mused and your clothes in disarray as you take him in with an intense stare— he feels oddly shy as he tugs down his sweater to cover himself, gulping nervously as he begins to wonder if this was all a twisted joke— some sort of childish dare, anything that was meant to humiliate him. 

Instead, he feels you reach forward to fix his glasses, brushing away the hair that was stuck to his forehead as you smiled sweetly; Beomgyu thinks he forgot how to breathe as he takes in your proximity, left frozen as you leave a slow, chaste kiss on his lips. 

“I should go— you have work, right?” The question is enough to snap Beomgyu back to reality, nodding softly as you finally get up from his bed; turning to his mirror, you fix your appearance, brows raising in curiosity as you notice the guitar that’s propped up beside it— you briefly wonder if he’s good at playing it, and find yourself wanting to ask if he can sing; you refrain. “I’ll let you get ready then.”

There’s not much Beomgyu can say as he watches you go to his door like nothing happened; he flinches in surprise as you turn back to him one last time, a grin on your face as you send him one final goodbye. 

“This was fun.” 

Beomgyu is left to decipher your words and intentions as you walk away. 

  ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥  

Why did you do that. 

“Oh god, why did I do that?” 

You’re a puddle of embarrassment as you roll around in the back of your driver’s car, your hands plastered on your face as you try to melt away from this reality— instead, the memory of Beomgyu’s flustered and fucked out face is the only thing that meets your eyelids. 

You’re not sure what took over you— what in the world possessed you to fuck your tutor? You knew that if you told your friends you’d never hear the end of it, but you think you might be at risk of losing the only thing that was helping you get your grades up after this. 

It was already difficult to get Beomgyu to agree to be in a room alone with you— and now you had to absolutely fuck up and push the boundaries to a place where you’d never return. 

Out of all the men, it just had to be Choi Beomgyu. It’s a fact that makes your face heat up and your head hit the back of the car seat in defeat as you stare out the window in dismay; instead of going for someone who was in your league, you chose to go after a nobody. 

You didn’t even get anything out of it! The thought is humiliating as you shut your eyes and groan, ignoring the way your driver glances back at you in concern; you sucked his dick and dipped— that is so unlike you. 

Everything about the situation is unlike you— you would never go after someone like Beomgyu, he didn’t align with your type at all! The feeling of dread in your stomach is only worsened as you mentally go through the people you’ve been with in the past, cringing the more you realize how much of an outlier Beomgyu is. 

“Mr. Kim,” you call out, pulling down your shades as you avoid the rays of sunlight that are hitting your face. He’s perking up in response immediately, glancing at you through his mirror before he nods his head to indicate he’s listening. 

“Take me to Hueningkai’s house please,” you say, taking your phone out of your purse as you absentmindedly text Huening that you’re on your way— Mr. Kim’s yes ma’am is left unanswered as you watch Hueningkai respond within seconds— all you can do is sink further in your seat at his eagerness to see you, the implications of his message more than clear to you.

The drive to his home is long and silent, and you’re forced to reflect on yourself the whole way through— the more you do, the more flustered and confused you feel, forcing yourself to set those thoughts to the side as Mr. Kim pulls up to Huening’s driveway.

Yet even as you’re walking to his doorstep, an eager smile forced on your face as you wait for Huening to answer, you can’t help the way your thoughts stray. It all seems to linger on the same subject, gulping nervously at the way Beomgyu’s small whines still ring out in your head. 

“Hey,” Hueningkai smiles, leaning against the doorway as he takes you in; you try to ignore the way his hungry eyes take you in, greeting him softly before you’re pushing past him and going inside, kicking your shoes off at the doorway. 

“What’s up?” Hueningkai immediately asks, noticing the way you don’t indulge in any of his games or teasing, your face blank as you plop down on the couch. “You need something?” 

“No,” you say, oddly defensive as you lay along his couch, crossing your legs as you proceed to do the same with your arms, “Can’t I just chill at your place without needing anything?” 

Hueningkai raises a brow at your huffy comment. Tilting his head, he smiles, a gesture sly and teasing as he watches the way you stand your ground. 

“Well, whenever you come over it’s usually not to just chill,” he says, repeating your words with clear amusement, “so forgive me for thinking something was off.” 

You’re in a bad mood today; Hueningkai is quick to pick up on it as you scoff at his words, looking away from him and pouting as you remain silent. Slowly, he makes his way to you, testing out the waters before he’s sitting down at your feet. 

“What’s wrong baby?” He asks, slowly beginning to hover over you until you can’t help but look at him; he’s everywhere, a holding himself up with a hand by your head while the other finds its way to your hip— playing with the hem of your shirt, slowly teasing you until he’s pushing past and caressing your skin— you flinch at the feeling of his cold hand. 

“Come on, we can talk,” he says, but you know he doesn’t really mean it with the way his leg is trying to pry your thighs open, pressing up against your core as he feels something unexpected— his eyes are lighting up as he smiles down at you, raising a brow as he takes in the small change of your expression. 

“Or maybe you don’t wanna talk?” He says, the surprising heat that meets his thigh is more than welcome as he watches you become flustered under him. 

“Fuck off Huening,” you groan, pressing a hand against his chest as you turn away from him— all you get in return is a dark laugh, his lips ghosting along your jawline as he presses a firm kiss under your ear, his hand pushing your shirt up as it wanders towards your breasts. 

“Hmm, are you sure?” He huffs, adjusting his position so that he’s able to place a hand on your hip, grinding your hips against his thighs as he bites his lip at the sight, “won’t you put those pretty lips to use at least?” 

The irritation that had been brewing inside you is far too much to handle as you scoff at his words, your head snapping back to glare at him as you push against his chest firmly, catching him off guard as you knock him off his balance entirely; he’s knocked out of his lusty reverie as he stares at you with wide eyes from the other end of the couch, lips parting as he attempts to say something, only to be cut off by you. 

“Seriously Huening, I’m not in the fucking mood!” You snap, pulling your top back down harshly before you’re standing up— he’s left to watch in confusion as you readjust yourself, your brows furrowed in a mean frown as you glare at him once more— and to think you thought you’d be able to spend more than five minutes with Hueningkai without him wanting to fuck you. 

“Come on baby, you know I didn’t mean it like that—“ 

“Do you ever think without your dick when you’re around me?” It’s annoying to see how nonchalant Hueningkai is as he laughs off your words, crossing his arms defensively as he tries to play off what just happened. 

“You didn’t even think to check up on me when I was sick!” You thought you were over the bitter moment, but the memory still seems to sting as you remind him of a time where you needed him the most, “ever since we started this whole… stupid friends with benefits thing, you’ve been acting like such a prick!” 

“Don’t be like this,” Hueningkai groans, throwing his head back as he runs a hand through his hair, “you’re being dramatic.” 

“Oh my god!” You bark, left in disbelief as you pace around his apartment, “like seriously, are you listening to yourself right now?!”

You’re more than fed up as you make your way back to the entrance, gathering your things and slipping on your shoes as you hear Hueningkai following close behind, spouting excuses and other nonsense to try and make you stay. 

You’ve opened the door when Hueningkai grabs onto you desperately, tugging you back into his chest and asking you to listen to him as he sets firm hands on your hips; you’re looking at everything but him as you remain silent, your hands pressed defensively against his chest as you give him on last chance to redeem himself. 

“Come on baby, you know I don’t wanna lose you,” he says, his voice soft and vulnerable as he leans in, watching as you tilt your head away from him and continue to refuse to meet his eyes. Feeling him press you harder against him, your jaw clenches as he places a sweet kiss on your cheek. 

“Lemme make it up to you. Please?” 

You know perfectly well what his words entail as you push him away from you once more, swinging your purse and smacking him harshly as you let your anger out on him. He has the audacity to laugh and cower away from you as he apologizes, telling you that it was just a joke as you continue to hit him relentlessly. 

“Fuck you!” You say, out of energy and left a huffing mess as you swing the door open behind you, “asshole!” 

You don’t stay around to see his reaction as you slam the door shut, storming away and walking along the sidewalk as you pull your phone out. 

Pick me up please. 

Huening’s being an asshole, I’m waiting outside. 

It’s moments like these where you regret being irresponsible with your car, left with nothing but your driver as you still wait for your precious baby to come out of the repair shop; to this day your parents still scold you for an accident that happened over a month ago, the words “bad driver” tacked on along with the rest that curate your reputation.  

In a perfect world, Hueningkai would’ve come out by now; he would’ve gone after you, apologizing and hanging his head in shame in regards to his behavior— in a perfect world, he wouldn’t have turned into the person he is now, forgoing your friendship entirely to satiate his needs— you hadn’t given much thought to what the consequences to this “friends with benefits” thing would be, but if you could go back in time to the moment where he drunkenly proposed it to you, you would’ve been quick to shut him down with an incredulous laugh. 

It was your fault for having a soft spot for him. Your fault for wondering what his lips would feel like one too many times, for being caught staring at him back when you were just kids and you were forced to attend dinner parties together, trying and failing to conceal the way he could fluster you with just a single smile. 

Now that his desires have been satiated, you doubt he has any use for you now— which is why you find yourself waiting pathetically outside his apartment, not used to this feeling that festers in your stomach as you wait patiently— whether it’s simply for your driver or for the glimmering hope that Hueningkai will own up to his actions and take you back, you’re not sure.

But what you do know is that you’ve never felt so small. 

Moments later, your driver arrives; you swear you try to hold back, but you can’t help yourself from turning around and taking one last peek at Huening’s quiet, dull apartment— gritting your teeth, you flop inside, groaning obnoxiously as you rub your temples in annoyance; your driver is unfazed by your behavior— meeting his eyes, you sigh. 

“I need to go shopping.”

Wordlessly, he nods— you don’t bother to stare out the window once you finally feel the car moving, in fear that your mind may begin to imagine scenarios that simply won’t happen. 

The car ride is silent, and you realize with a frown that you may have left with a mood worse than before.

  ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥  

This department store is useless.

Geez, did you piss off some god above or something? Because as you stand in your tenth store in the past hour, nose scrunched and brows furrowed unpleasantly, you feel as though you may be getting karma for something— though what it may be exactly, you’re unsure. 

Everything around you is either already in your closet or simply outdated. Your fingertips tap rhythmically against your crossed arms, eyes narrowed as you take slow strides around the aisles of the stores— a part-time employee follows closely behind you, hands folded neatly and a pleasant smile glued to face as she comments on every item your eyes fall on, even if it’s just for a second; your jaw ticks at her cheap tactics to sell to you. 

There’s only one thing that would make your mood at this time— a limited edition purse you have had your eyes on, trying your best to catch your usual stores at the right times in hopes of getting your hands on it. Yet, with every failed attempt, your frustrations and efforts only grow, and you’ve found yourself visiting these stores more often than you’d like, always leaving with an item or two despite telling yourself not to do so. 

“Excuse me,” you say sternly, your steps coming to a halt as you slowly turn to the employee. She’s meek and her voice is airy as she speaks to you, eyebrows raised as though she seems genuinely interested in what you might say next— her act only displeases you more. 

“I’m trying to shop in peace, please leave me alone.” you say, watching as the woman simply flinches at your comment, smile stiffening on her lips before she’s swiftly apologizing seconds after— if you weren’t careful, you could’ve missed the way her lips turned up with irritation as she turned, muttering quietly to herself as though you weren’t two steps away to hear it.

Rich snob, you pick up, blinking in surprise as you watch her steps becoming hasty with her retreat. You don’t allow yourself to be fazed by it, a smile tugging at your lips from amusement before you turn back around; scanning the store, you glance at the mannequins on display, taking in the outfits briefly before you catch onto something else— and before you can control yourself, you’re walking again. 

Don’t be stupid, your brain tells you, yelling at you as you exit the store with haste, pushing past the people standing around as you make your way to the store across, Don’t do this, this is a bad idea, don’t—

Do it, your heart tells you, pounding against your chest as you adjust the purse strap on your shoulder, gulping slightly as you swing open the door, you’re not here for him, you’re here for the very thing you’ve worked so hard for. 

And if it so happens to be in his hands right now, then is it really your fault that you find yourself standing before the very man that hurt you mere moments ago?

“Cute purse,” you breathe out, eyes glued to the way it shines beautifully under the lights of the store, “Though I don’t really think it’s your style.”

Hueningkai doesn’t bother looking up. He’s too busy handling the limited edition purse that you’ve so desperately been searching for, nimble fingers running over the details as though he were actually taking his time to inspect it; instead, he hums softly at your words, pretending to ponder for a second before he’s frowning. 

“You really think so?” he asks, tsking softly to himself before he’s shaking his head, straightening up before he runs a hand against the surface; you watch the way his fingers slide across the material, teeth tugging at your lip as you fight the twitch of your brows, wanting nothing more than to take the item from his hands and walk away. 

You stand there in silence, for a moment; you wonder slightly if Hueningkai is simply ignoring you, and the idea is enough to have you bristling with anger, your jaw clenching as you decide that it’s better to leave now than to look helpless before him— but he’s looking up at you, lidded eyes catching you in a daze as he tilts his head, sending you his signature charming smile. 

“It wasn’t for me,” he says, looking down at the purse in his hands and holding it close to him, as though gauging its weight, “It was going to be a gift.”

“A gift? Quite the gesture on your part,” you scoff, looking at the display area in exasperation— fuck, the only purse in this awful store is in his hands, you realize— leaving you with no other choice but to hope that he’ll stop playing games and leave the purse he clearly never had any intentions of buying, “But I don’t think those other girls you talk to would be very interested in such a specific item like this— I’d suggest appealing to their own interests a bit more.”

With gritted teeth, you reach out to take the bag; an impulsive move on your part, not exactly surprised with the way Hueningkai immediately backs up and holds the bag close to him. You can practically feel your blood boil from the sheer anger that’s taking over from his antics, unamused entirely at the way he merely sends you an innocent smile. 

“Don’t be rude,” he smiles, taking yet another step back, making more distance between you two, “Who are you to say what they would or wouldn’t like? Plus, I saw this first, and I had full intentions of buying it.”

You remain silent— whether you’re too baffled to speak or are simply trying to not explode and yell at him in the middle of the store, you’re not entirely sure— but, as you watch him raise a brow challengingly, you can only find yourself thinking one thing. 

Fuck this. You’ll just order it online. 

The idea takes away the very joy of being able to find it by chance, but you’d rather die right now than grovel to Hueningkai— like he very clearly wants— in hopes that he’ll take pity on you and give you the purse; spinning on your heels, you make your way out with brisk steps.

You don’t get very far before you hear him calling out your name— but you ignore it, a baffled scoff escaping you in response to his sheer audacity to act so shameless after belittling you a few hours prior; you’re a few steps away from the exit when you feel a tug on your wrist, jolting you back and preventing you from leaving.

“What, Hueningkai?” you say, huffing exasperatedly as you shake off his grip on you, “Can’t you just leave me alone for once? I’m not in the mood to play your stupid games.”

“Well then why don’t you talk to me instead of running away childishly?” he says sharply, and you have to bite your tongue in order to not point out his hilariously hypocritical statement, “you’re acting so weird, what the hell happened?”

You think you might just do something that’ll get you banned from the store— but something catches your eye before you can act out on your impulses, and you’re ripping your wrist from Hueningkai’s hold with one last harsh tug. Your gaze is no longer on him; he tries to follow your line of sight, but fails to catch onto what you’re looking at. 

“Get out or leave me alone,” you say, giving him one last cold look before you’re brushing past him, “I’m not interested in talking to you.”

You’re weaving through the displays and getting out of his sight quickly— and Hueningkai is left with a purse he had no interest in buying, looking down at the item before he scoffs; he throws it off at a random shelf and exits promptly after. 

Your footsteps are haste and your heels click rhythmically on the tiled floor; you’re making your way to the cash register, watching his meek stance and the way he flinches under your gaze, a flush running up the back of his neck and coloring his ears red— but you don’t dare to look away from him, placing a rough hand on the counter and leaning close as you inspect him.

“You didn’t tell me you worked here.”

Beomgyu is attempting to stutter out a weak response; his cheeks are colored and his hair is tied back neatly, and you can see the way his hands twitch, undoubtedly resisting the urge to run a hand through the neat style. 

“Why— why would I tell you? It’s not something you’d need to know. Or– is it…?”

You’ve confused him, that much you’re sure of. His brows have knitted together and he remains flustered beyond belief— you’re sure you can guess what’s running through his mind right now, and you fight the twitch of your lips at the mere thought.

“I thought you worked as a server.”

“I– I do?” he’s tilting his head in confusion, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose slightly, “I have two jobs.”

“Three,” you quip, drumming your nails against the counter rhythmically, “you tutor.”

“I… guess…?” Beomgyu says, fighting back the urge to correct you that he really doesn’t— you’re the only one he’s ever tutored before.

“Why would you need to work three jobs? How do you get the time for this?” you don’t really know why you’re pestering Beomgyu about this so much— but you’re also fascinated by it, now beginning to understand where Beomgyu’s lack of social life stems from. 

He’s unsure of how to answer your question again; you don’t seem to be particularly patient today, (but then again, when are you?) so you’re waving him off with a dismissive swat of your hand, shaking your head and clicking your tongue before you’re changing the subject; Beomgyu is left to watch as you pull your phone out, scrolling on it for a bit before you’re placing it on the counter and spinning it around for him to see— his eyes are narrowing in concentration as he takes in the picture.

“This purse,” you say slowly, tapping your nail on your phone screen, as though Beomgyu wasn’t currently looking at it, “do you have it in stock? This guy already got one, but I need to know if you have others— I’ve got to have it.” 

The urgency in your voice is a bit surprising to Beomgyu— he takes in your expression, solemn and a bit scary, and gulps— then he watches the way you melt in relief the moment he nods hesitantly. 

“I’m sure we just got a shipment in today— we, haven’t really, uhm, stocked up properly yet,” he stutters, wincing slightly at the sound while you remain unfazed; your brows lift expectantly, and he’s snapping out his daze and sending you a shaky smile, “I’ll go check.” 

He scurries out of your sight and into the employee door quicker than you can process— and when he turns around to take a peek at the small window, he finds you leaning on the counter and on your phone— probably texting, judging by the way your thumbs fly by on the screen— and he feels another heat of shame wash over him, his head spinning and his legs turning into jello. 

How can you act so casually? He wonders, glasses slipping down just a bit farther down his nose, nimble fingers pushing it back up with ease, like you weren’t just in his bedroom a few hours prior… like he wasn’t under you… 

Beomgyu practically jumps the moment your eyes flicker up and meet his; you simply smile, glossed lips stretching slowly before you give him a wink. 

In response, he spins around and begins to actually look— his heart hammers in his chest.

  ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥  

So pretty. 

So perfect and smooth to the touch, cool under your fingertips— you take your time to feel, to trace over every detail, intricate and crafted by the gods as you let out a shaky sigh— your eyes meet Beomgyu’s, and you have half the mind to feel a bit sheepish, retracting your hand quickly and returning to a socially acceptable state of mind. 

“Sorry,” you say, beaming at him before you’re reaching into your current bag and handing him your card; his eyes widen comically at the smooth black plastic you place in his hold carelessly, “It’s just… all I could ever ask for. I can’t believe I finally have my hands on this…” 

Meanwhile, Beomgyu rings up your inexplicably expensive item, swiping your card and watching the way you don’t even flinch at the sum that shows up; he feels a bit jealous at your nonchalance. 

You’re carrying the purse like it were a baby; it isn’t until Beomgyu offers to bag it for you that you finally let it go, placing it gently on the counter and smiling fondly as you watch Beomgyu place it carefully in the equally luxurious gift bag, placing filler paper on top and handing it back to you, his movement practiced and calculated as he says his usual lines— his mind is running on autopilot once more, but you’re particularly eager to break him out of it as you reach out to take the bag from him, warm hand wrapping around his and tugging him slightly towards you. 

“Thank you for all your help today,” you purr, shining lips stretching into a coy smile, leaning against the counter and watching as he gulps, adam's apple bobbing, “I think I’ll do well on our upcoming quiz— you’re such a good tutor.”

You don’t bother to stick around after that; your steps are brisk and you’re hugging the purchase close to your body, as though someone were after it and ready to take it, confidence in your step as you exit the store— Beomgyu, on the other hand, practically crumbles the moment you’re out of sight, fingers turning white from how hard he grips onto the edge of the counter; his heart pounds and the sound of blood rushing fills his ears, mind inevitably going back to your teasing action before he’s flustering again. 

You’re laughing to yourself the whole ride home— his reaction plays on your mind like a loop, beyond amused by the sight as you pat yourself on the back for being able to come up with something so clever on the spot. 

What you don’t realize, however, is that there are consequences to your actions— consequences that are far beyond your control.

  ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥  

“Are you for real?”

“Uh-huh,” you grin, placing a fond hand on your cheek and batting your eyes at Yunjin, “totally aced it.” 

“That’s something I never thought I’d hear from you,” your friend says, poking her fork at her salad before taking a bite; she furrows her brows as she takes in your expression, mouth agape and eyes wide, as though you were offended. “What? It’s true.”

“Okay, first off— I’m not stupid, just lazy,” you clarify, pointing an accusing finger at your friend as you pout, “and second of all, you should really believe in your friend a little more.”

“I mean, it was a little hard to when all you would do was skip classes and go shopping instead,” Yunjin says, raising a challenging brow when you open your mouth to refute her claims— then proceed to promptly close it again, finding that you really can’t deny that— and a small smile tugs at her lips, the kind that lets you know that she’s about to say something really annoying, “but I guess your study sessions with your little boy toy really did work.” 

“Boy—?!” you’re in the middle of taking a sip from your iced coffee when she says that, the straw slipping from your mouth and a bit of the liquid escaping from the sheer surprise of her comment— you wipe at your mouth with the back of your hand, feeling a slight heat rush to your face as you stare at her incredulously, “boy toy?” 

“I mean, am I wrong?” Yunjin challenges, tilting her head in curiosity while you simply try to deny her claims, “you were literally just telling me about the way you had him wrapped around your finger a while ago—”

“Not like that though!” you huff, feeling worked up from the mere idea of Yunjin finding out the complete and utterly stupid slip up you had a while ago, “god, he’s literally such a fucking loser, don’t try to pair me up with him— other people might get the wrong idea. It’s already bad enough that I had to get a tutor, because it’s not like I was doing bad in my classes until recently. I mean, it’s still my fault and I did let myself go, but I didn’t think I’d have to stoop so low! And now I have to take so much time out of my day to spend my time studying with him and even worse, you’re trying to insinuate something that definitely isn’t true—!”

“Yes! Okay! Enough of that please!” Yunjin says exasperatedly, glancing over your shoulder briefly before she’s taking another bite of her salad, muttering something about you having a motor mouth, “god, it’s just that… people have seen you two together a lot, you know? And with the way he’s looking over at you right now, anyone would think that he’s like… in love with you, or something.” 

You’re sitting up straight and whirling around at that; following Yunjin’s previous line of sight, you’re able to pinpoint the said boy immediately— sitting a few tables away, catching him staring at you over his laptop, clearly distracted from his work— the moment your eyes meet, he flinches, hunching down so the screen hides him; it doesn’t work very well, and you’re able to see his downcast eyes and reddening face with ease. 

Oh my god, you think with horror, a cold wave washing over you as you stare at him longer— and after a few seconds, he’s peeking back up from his screen, meeting your eyes once more and scrambling to hide unsuccessfully yet again. You decide to turn back around before anyone else around you catches on to this interaction. 

“Oh my god,” you breathe out, meeting Yunjin’s gaze as she simply nods at you, her face screaming I told you so, “how long has he been there?” 

“Like… basically this whole time,” Yunjin says casually, not fazed in the slightest by your horrified expression, “been staring at you for a while too.”

“Ugh, gross,” you groan, throwing your head back in defeat and staring up at the ceiling with a frown, “I think I might’ve gotten his hopes up too much.”

“C’mon, go easy on him,” Yunjin teases— your head is straightening up to look at her again, but a single glance is enough to tell you she merely finds this situation amusing, “it’s probably his first time properly interacting with a woman.”

“That’s even worse,” you mourn, slumping down and placing your head in your hands; a sudden reminder of your schedule is popping back into your head, and your peeking through your fingers in dismay as you relay the information to your friend, “and I have a study session with him today too.” 

“Aww!” she coos, clearly having a blast as she grins, glancing behind you and undoubtedly at Beomgyu once more, “I’m sure he just can’t wait to see you again.”

“God, please shut up,” you whine petulantly, but your friend brushes off your pleas with a mischievous smile, “you’re making me wanna throw up.”

“What, you gonna cancel then?” 

Silence. Any other day, you would’ve immediately jumped to say yes, pulling out your phone to text him and bailing like it was nothing. But today, you find yourself oddly reluctant to say this three letter word, unsure of why the answer is difficult to voice before you finally give in to the truth— your head slumps with defeat and you’re too ashamed to look Yunjin in the eyes.

“No.”

“Oh wow,” you hear her say, still blatantly teasing you as she laughs giddily— you don’t bother to react at this point, choosing to ignore the unspoken question of why you’re not ditching him this time.

“Hope you have fun,” she muses, taking one last glance behind you before she’s giggling to herself, “try to go easy on him, m’kay?”

Fuck, this was so embarrassing. 

  ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥  

Today, you’ve changed up your meeting spot quite a bit; Beomgyu was thoroughly surprised when you asked him to study later on in the day, in a more secluded area on the upper levels of the library, telling him to pick a table and wait for you to get there after— usually, you tried to make your meetups as convenient for you as possible, choosing places that you could easily flee from. 

When you finally come into his line of sight, Beomgyu frowns. You carry your bag with you, along with a troubled expression and tense posture, glancing around you continuously even if there was no one around, even if the table was hidden behind bookshelves— as though you were afraid of getting caught for something. 

You’re dumping your things onto the table unceremoniously— and instead of taking your spot across from Beomgyu like always, you’re sitting next to him, catching him off guard and missing the way he tenses at the action— you’re scooting your chair closer to him and filling his senses with your scent, making him gulp thickly as he tries to not let his mind wander off; he realizes with dread that it’s really not working. 

Beomgyu is a stuttering mess today; you pick up on it with ease, frowning at the way he continues to blunder through his explanations and having to repeat things to you multiple times, hands shakier than usual as he points out certain things in the text before he’s relating it back to the assignment. 

“That— that’s one of the things the… the uhm, the professor said would be important to remember,” Beomgyu stutters, feeling his body heat up at the way you raise your brows at the sound of his cracking and meek voice. With one glimpse at your (clearly) judgemental and demeaning expression that you didn’t even bother to hide, Beomgyu is scrambling to get his act together. 

It works, for a while; the two of you are left in silence as you work on the homework your professor assigned to you, and you remain unfazed at the feeling of Beomgyu catching glimpses at you from time to time; whether that be to look at what you had written down or simply to look at you, you couldn’t really bring yourself to care. 

You’re snapped out of zone of concentration at the sound of rustling; a peek from your peripheral vision allows you to watch as Beomgyu has now begun to dig through his bag, wondering what he could be up to; with a roll of your eyes, you’re focusing back to the question you were working on, not bothering to glance back again even once the rustling has ceased. 

Without warning, something is placed gingerly on the open surface of your textbook; you’re blinking in surprise before you’re registering what it is that has been put before you, brows knitting together as you wonder how you should react.

It’s a… mini paper flower bouquet. 

You’re staring at the item for a solid few seconds before you slowly turn to look at the culprit. Beomgyu meets your intense gaze the best he can, putting up a confident front and fighting back the heat that threatens to engulf his face. 

“Y–You— I heard you did well on your test.” He says, glasses slipping down his nose and bangs falling into his eyes, gaze flickering away for a split second before he wills himself to look at you again. Your stare is dead and unreadable.

“I never told you that.” 

Beomgyu is losing this battle, his confidence visibly wilting away as his cheeks begin to get dusted with pink. His eyes are wide like a deer caught in headlights, unsure of what to respond as you give him a look that is expecting an explanation— his cheeks are now a bright red. 

Even without his explanation, you both know how he got a hold of this news— and you’re thinking back to Yunjin’s teasing, the fear of being seen with him during today’s study session, and the flustered boy in front of you— and your mouth is running faster than you can stop it.

“Choi Beomgyu, do you like me?” 

If the floor around you was already quiet before, it’s dead silent now; you’re even able to pick up on the stuttered breath Beomgyu lets out, his eyes growing comically wide as he simply stares at you; almost as though he couldn’t believe what you just asked of him. 

“Actually, don’t even answer that,” you wave him off, choosing to ignore the way this seems to spring him into action, stuttering and failing to put together a proper sentence to tell you that no, he definitely doesn’t— you just caught him off guard! 

But it’s not like you would believe him anyway, with the way he remains flustered long after you asked the question, unable to even look your way for the rest of the session, staring straight at the textbook and nowhere else whenever you would ask him a question— after a while, you begin to tire of his behavior. 

“Choi Beomgyu,” you call out again, soft and dangerous as you turn to face him— he was attempting to explain a question to you, words dying on his tongue as he took in your sudden proximity— leaning in toward him, you tilt your head as you observe his reaction, watching the way his lips press together and his adam's apple bobs as he gulps softly; his puppy-like eyes shine as he waits for you to say something.

“Are you okay?” you ask him, your voice beginning to dip into that coy lilt that you’ve used on him only one other time— and that’s enough to have Beomgyu’s mind spinning, the poor boy thinking thoughts that he’s tried to suppress this whole time— your affect on him is beginning to show once more. 

“You look a little…” your eyes flicker down beneath the table, a smile tugging at your lips before you’re looking back into the boy's eyes; catching where you were looking, Beomgyu can’t help but tug his sweater over his lap in embarrassment. 

You’re leaning even closer now— your breath is fanning against the shell of his ear, the boy’s face practically on fire as his hands remain clenched and tense on his lap— he’s practically a statue due to your proximity. 

“Distracted.” 

Your hands are mischievous; curious, setting your pencil down carefully before they begin to wander, sliding across the table before it falls off the edge, nails scratching at the wool material of Beomgyu’s sweater before it lands on top of his hand that covers his lap— you grin at the choked breath of surprise he lets out from the simple touch. 

“What— what, what are y–you—?” Beomgyu is about to bite through his lip at this rate, eyes wide and panicked as he watches your hand push his away, taking in the bulge in his pants as a flush of shame rises up his neck; you’ve caught him, but you don’t seem to be fazed in the slightest as you’re cupping him gently, looking up at him with doe eyes and lashes that flutter innocently— he thinks his heart might just explode from how quickly it’s pounding. 

“Wait, wait wait— we’re in— other people might—” he’s tripping over his words, saying so much yet nothing at all, but the way his eyes skirt over the perimeter is enough to tell you what he’s thinking— yet all you see are bookshelves that surround and hide you well— beneath the warmth of your hand that has yet to move, you can feel Beomgyu hardening within seconds. 

“It’s late. There’s no one else here right now,” you say sweetly, too sweet, a bit patronizing as you lean in close and coo the words directly into his ear— you’re brushing back his long hair with a gentle hand, tucking it behind his ears that he always seems to hide; they’re a pitiful bright red and decorated with silver piercings, absentmindedly caressing along his jaw with the back of your hand; his eyes flutter shut at the tender action, along with the feeling of your hand finally beginning to rock against his cock gently— and he melts into the chair, like putty in your hands as you watch his shoulders slump and cave into himself, his head hang at the stimulation; you’ve barely done anything, yet he’s already a mess— the sight surprises you.

“Go ahead,” you continue softly, hand cupping his jaw and cradling it carefully, attempting to get him to look at you again— and he follows your commands effortlessly, pretty eyes fluttering open and his head turning at the gentle push of your hand— and he’s looking at you with glassy, wide eyes, cheeks flushed pink and mouth parted as his eyes begin to flutter shut again— and your thumb is rubbing soothing circles along his cheekbone teasingly, leaning in slightly to whisper again, close enough that he can feel your breath fanning against the tip of his nose, “Puppy, look at me.”

He follows your command in a heartbeat; he’s met with another of your sickeningly sweet smiles, deceiving and comforting all at the same time. 

“Go ahead now puppy,” you murmur, any movements of your hand ceasing entirely as you watch him with eager eyes, watching the way he seems to sober up at the loss of your touch, “take my hand off— c’mon, take it off if you really want to.”

A moment passes— he really should be taking your hand off, shouldn’t he? But his mind is clouded now and you look so pretty under the warm library lights, pristine and perfect as always, glossy lips and lidded eyes encouraging him with a deceivingly fond look— but Beomgyu loves it, and he loves the way you laugh mockingly at him, unable to control the way he whines petulantly and shakes his head, giving you your answer by thrusting his aching cock into your hand desperately.

“Good boy,” you utter absentmindedly, a compliment that makes Beomgyu’s hips stutter as you finally begin to inch up his bulge, careful fingers making quick work to undo his pants— and with one last glance at the deserted area around you, you’re slipping your hand inside and past the tight waistband of his boxers. 

“Haah—!” Beomgyu is slapping a hand over his mouth and beating you to it, eyes wide and face even more flushed than before as he stares down at the way your hand disappears beneath the material of his boxers, expertly wrapping around his length and slowly beginning to jerk him off underneath the table. 

You don’t seem to be worked up by any of this at all; your eyes are lidded with a slight boredom, a tiredness he’s seen at every one of your study sessions, watching the way you turn back to your homework and begin reading the instructions, hand still working expertly at his length as you do; Beomgyu has to press another hand firmly against his mouth the moment your thumb is swiping over his tip, collecting the constant arousal that collects there and using it as lube— you don’t even bat an eye at him during all this. 

After a few minutes, you’re able to hear the slick sounds of your hand working against his cock effortlessly; the poor boy is aroused and leaking beyond belief, now sporting a wet patch against his pants that you seem to be dead-set on worsening— your pace is picking up and you don’t bother to glance at Beomgyu to check up on him, though you also don’t bother to hide the way your lips quirk in amusement at the sight of him trying (and failing) to keep his composure. 

“M–mmh, agh— close, s’close…” Beomgyu stutters out pathetically, bucking his hips up messily and turning back into that desperate and rambly mess from the first time you sucked him off; his voice is deep and breathy as he whispers out these pleas to you, begs to not stop, to go faster, to—

“Beomgyu,” you whisper coyly, using this chance to finally put your plan into action, “Beomgyu baby, d’you wanna cum? Hmm? Want me to make you feel good?”

He’s nodding thoughtlessly; of course he’s nodding, his mind has gone blank and there’s nothing else in there that seems to make sense except for the way your warm hand wraps around his cock so perfectly, unable to stop the choked whines he lets out every time he feels you squeeze him teasingly. 

“Then you gotta do something for me, okay pup?”  you coo out, making sure to use the nickname you know he loves so much— he lets out a choked whimper at the sound, brows knit tightly together and hair falling in front of his face with the way he hangs his head— and you’re leaning in close to him again, breath fanning on his skin and your palm slapping his cheek softly, tapping at it to get his attention; it works like a charm, and his glassy eyes are meeting yours once more. “Puppy, are you listening?”

“I’m—” his words get cut off by a weak whine, feeling your hand tighten teasingly around him, “I’m listening— I’m listening.” 

“Good,” you coo out, feeling the way his hips buck and he starts becoming restless, “now if you wanna cum, you gotta promise me something, okay?” 

Anything, anything for you, he breathes out absentmindedly, and you’re sure he has no idea what he’s even agreeing to at this point. 

“Don’t act like you know me when we’re in public,” you say sweetly, muddling his mind by increasing your pace, by doing exactly what you’ve noted makes him squirm and cry the most, “I don’t know you, you don’t know me— we’re strangers.” 

You notice the way his face is twisting up in confusion; his mouth is parting and he’s fighting to say something, to ask why— but you’re not giving him a chance to, brushing his hair back and cupping his face, turning him to look at you and digging your nails into his cheeks to get him to meet your eyes; through the intense pleasure you give him, you can still see the hurt that swims within. You let out a soft coo at the pathetic sight.

“Come on, promise me, okay?” you pout, “you’re a good boy, right? You’ll keep your promise?” 

His hips are stuttering and fucking into your fist again; you’ve got him pinned down precisely. Any coherent thought is fading out of Beomgyu’s mind and the only thing he’s concerned himself with is his impending orgasm, the feeling of pleasure that is only heightened with every string of praise you say to him. 

“Be a good little puppy and say you’ll promise me,” you say, thumb swiping over his bottom lip before you’re pulling at it, dark eyes observing the way he melts before your touch and finally gives in— he’s nodding, you’ve got him right where you want him, and all you needed was a little bit of mindless praise. “c’mon, say it, say it and you can cum.”

“I promise,” he breathes out, whiny and high pitched and strained, as though speaking was a challenge for him, “I’ll do anything, please— pleasepleaseplease, let me cum, I’ll— I promise.”

“There we go baby,” you hum in approval, pressing a peck to his pouting lips and taking in the way his waterline is filled with tears that hang precariously, “such a good boy— my good boy.”

His hips stutter, rising off the seat, and you’re feeling warm spurts of cum land on your skin. His mouth is falling open and you’re sure he might just let out a loud noise, so before you can think twice, you’re pulling his face close to you and smashing your lips against his; he whines weakly into mouth, and you’re swallowing it greedily, kissing him languidly and guiding him through his high with praise that makes his breath stutter and his knees weak. 

You’ve got him wrapped around your finger, and good.

It takes a while before Beomgyu is finally coming to his senses. He’s panting softly against your mouth, lips swollen and bitten at, his cock sensitive as the feeling of you continuing to pump him slowly suddenly becomes too much; with a shaky hand, he presses against your shoulder and attempts to signal you to stop. You’re pulling away immediately. 

Beomgyu looks, for lack of a better term, absolutely destroyed. His face is flushed and his eyes are droopy with exhaustion, hair mussed and messy and his clothes in complete disarray; you look down, and you’re wincing in half amusement and half pity at the sight of the wet spot against Beomgyu’s jeans. He’s following your gaze, and if he could turn any redder, you’re sure he definitely would’ve; his ears burn. 

Your hand is messy; his cum is still coated on your skin, sticky and incriminating as it sticks to your fingers and pools in between, a grimace twisting your face into a look of dismay as you stare down at the mess— before you can even think of what to do about it, Beomgyu is handing you a tissue. 

His hand is shaky as he extends it out to you; your gaze is snapping up to meet his, only you’ve found that he can’t look at you at all— it seems as though the fog in his mind has already subsided and he’s realized what you’ve asked of him, lips pressed together and face still flushed as you finally take it from him. He turns away from you immediately, pulling his sweater over his lap and staring down at the disarray of textbooks and notebooks before him. 

The silence is suddenly unbearable. You feel awkward as you wipe at your skin, even more so when you’re stuck with nothing but a soiled tissue and a hand that’s still undeniably dirty, the tension between you two now growing tenfold by the second as you finally decide that you should probably just go— it’s not like he’d be surprised by it anyway. 

You’re opening your mouth to excuse yourself— to ignore the elephant in the room, to simply run away with a coy smile like you always do— but Beomgyu is beating you to the punch, and you can’t even hide the startled flinch your body does as he stands and begins to pack up hastily, shoving his materials into his book bag without a second glance to see if everything is perfectly aligned and neat.

You can only sit there and watch; it’s clear that your words seem to have gotten to him, and though you were expecting the awkwardness that would stem from it, you didn’t expect Beomgyu to be upset; your mind races to find reasons why, to try and wrap your head around why he would be feeling this way. 

“I asked the professor how you were doing in the class, since you never seem to want to tell me,” Beomgyu finally says, breaking the tension and adjusting the materials in his bag to be just the way he likes it; he zips his bag shut in one aggressive swoop, and you can’t help the surprise on your face when he sends you a harsh glare. 

“He says you’ve been improving greatly; said you were a good student from the very start, that you only needed to catch up on the materials.” he’s slinging his bag over his shoulder, pushing the chair in and taking a step back from your dumbfounded figure, “so it looks to me that you achieved your goal with our sessions.”

A moment passes— and your eyes widen slightly, catching on to what he’s trying to tell you, finding that you really want to deny the professor’s claims, even if they are true. But your pride impedes you from uttering a single word, knowing that it would kill you to try and coax Beomgyu to stay with you, to keep these study sessions going— and through this sudden urge, you catch yourself wondering why you would even want this to continue.

“I’m glad my help seemed to work— but it seems that you don’t even need it anymore,” Beomgyu finalizes what he needed to say, and you can see the way his shoulders practically sag from the relief of getting his thoughts across; his hand goes to tug his oversized sweater down, completely covering his lap and the mess you left— he grimaces softly. 

“What? So that’s it?” is all you can say, watching his face harden at your words, “Just like that? What about me?”

His face twists up in anger— your words have struck a nerve, and suddenly, he’s remembering why no one wanted to tutor you in the first place. 

“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” is all he says, taking another step back and increasing the distance between you two, “anyone would be willing to tutor you with the rate you like to offer.”

You both know what he really wants to say— just use your money on someone else to get what you want, like you always do. You find that you can’t really say anything to that. You remain silent.

Beomgyu turns around, and leaves; he doesn’t bother to say goodbye, and you’re left to watch his retreating figure, the hastiness of his pace and the way he continuously tugs his oversized sweater down over and over, even if it doesn’t move an inch. 

That’s it, you tell yourself, leaning back against your chair, staring down at the display before you, at the notes you were actually taking, the work you were finally doing, you finally got what you wanted. 

After a moment, the seat next to you is feeling a lot emptier than it did seconds ago; the room feels endless, as though you were left alone in this lonely labyrinth. Beomgyu’s words echo in your head, and you frown. 

Is this what you wanted?

 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥  

Beomgyu has kept his promise well; you haven’t seen him in weeks. 

Not around campus, not around the dining halls, not even in the library, a place you’ve found yourself actually attending regularly— not even in the only class you shared— and it seems as though he’s vanished off the face of the Earth. 

You’ve found yourself thinking about him more often than you’d like; wondering if he’s okay, if he’s off at one of his many jobs again, if he’s resting— it makes you shiver with disgust every time you catch yourself, grimacing at the idea that you would even find yourself worried about him— and while you tell yourself that you’ve finally gotten rid of one of your biggest burdens, you can still feel the nagging feeling to talk to him every time you see his contact in your phone.

“Did you finally get him off your trail?” Yunjin asks you one day, when you’re busy checking the due dates for this week’s assignments online, making a mental schedule of what to work on first as you leave your food untouched; her words are snapping you out of your trance, looking up at her with a gaze that screams I wasn’t listening, what? 

“Your little plaything— the loser guy?” she drawls, watching your face carefully, taking your small reaction as a sign that you’ve caught on, “did you finally shake him off?” 

“I— yeah, I did,” you say apathetically, letting out a soft tsk as you’re looking back at your laptop, “finally.”

“Wow, look at you,” Yunjin awes, seeing the way your brows furrowed in concentration and you have yet to eat, too immersed in your course load to roll your eyes at her clear, mocking tone, “looks like he really did a number on you— I didn’t know you used your laptop for anything other than shopping.”

“Yunjin, come on,” you sigh, jaw clenching as you suddenly don’t find yourself in the mood for her teasing, “I mean, I know I’ve been slacking really bad recently, but you know that’s not true.”

She doesn’t seem to take you seriously— then again, no one ever really does, a constant in your life that makes you jaw tick and your eyes mentally roll— and she laughs, shaking her head and pouting as though you were a thing to be pitied. You wonder how much of this is supposed to be friendly teasing. 

“Yeah sure,” she sighs, leaning her chin on the palm of her hand and leaning over to look at your screen, “Don’t work too hard though, it might hurt your brain.”

You ignore her comment; Yunjin doesn’t seem to care about your silence, doesn’t bother to gauge your reaction as she continues to poke at yet another of her salads, pushing the contents around with her fork in boredom as she speaks up again. 

“You know, hopefully he has the same effect on me.”

This gets your attention immediately. Yunjin is looking at you with surprised eyes that feign innocence, raising a confused brow at your narrowed eyes. 

“What do you mean by that,” you ask slowly, attempting to keep your tone indifferent as you speak.

Yunjin shrugs, as though what she was about to tell you next wasn’t of any importance— and it really shouldn’t be, but you still can’t ignore the way it makes your body feel like you’ve been shocked with a wave of electricity. 

“I mean, your little tutor seemed to be such a good influence so…” she stabs at her salad lazily, bringing up the fork to her lips before she’s sending you a small smile. “I thought I’d give him a try.” 

You bristle quite visibly at that; your mind is running a million miles an hour, wondering where this sudden idea is coming from, being friends with Yunjin for longer than you can remember as your mouth begins to run before you can stop it. 

“You said your parents have tried to set you up with multiple tutors— the best in the country,” you say, brows knitted together as Yunjin simply shrugs her shoulders, raising her brows as if to say and? “You said you’d rather die than to get tutored— you said it was a waste of time.”

“Yeah… but…” Yunjin shrugs again, and you wonder how much of this is just an impulse from her as she continues, “I don’t know, my parents are on my ass again about giving me a tutor, and I don’t wanna deal with all those stuck up pricks they send to me.”

She admits her true motives with her next words. 

“And I don’t know… he’s kinda cute?” she says, laughing like a schoolgirl who was embarrassed to admit a crush, “In like, a pathetic kinda way— and now that he’s done tutoring you, I’m sure he has a slot that opened up.”

Your mind is spiraling with things to say to her; you want to tell her to stay away from Beomgyu, to not try to mess with him— tell her that he’s a loser that isn’t worth her time, a nerd with an obsession with a lame game and the owner of a creepy bird— but you catch yourself, biting your tongue and taking in the way Yunjin simply looks at you expectantly; as though waiting for your embarrassing outburst, you realize.

With a scoff, you’re slamming your laptop shut— Yunjin flinches in surprise. 

“I’m sure one did— I’m leaving,” is all you say, knowing that nothing would change, even if you tried anything. Yunjin scrambles to try to get you to stay, but all attempts fall short— you tell her there’s an exam you need to study for, and she sighs in defeat. 

“You’re coming to the party this Saturday, at least?” she says, clearly annoyed at your sudden sensitivity, at your sudden change in attitude, “you promised you would.”

Your mind is attempting to remember what she could be talking about— then you’re finally remembering the event she spontaneously planned a few weeks back, telling you that she hasn’t seen everyone together in one place in so long— and while you found yourself agreeing excitedly back then, you don’t have much energy to do so now. But Yunjin is staring at you expectantly, raising a brow at your silence, and you find that there’s really not much of a choice for you. (There is, but you know there’d be consequences if you chose wrong.)

“Yeah. I’ll be there.”

“Perfect!” she beams, eyes crinkling and her hands clasping together happily, as though there was no previous tension between you at all mere moments before, “I’ll see you then.” 

You merely nod, turning around and taking your food to the nearest trash can— you weren’t really hungry, anyway. 

You can feel Yunjin’s eyes pinpointed on you the whole way out. 

  ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥  

You’ve always loved parties. 

You loved to dress up, make yourself look pretty and catch the eyes of everyone with your pretty dresses and makeup done to perfection; loved the attention that came with it, the way you could let loose for once and not worry about your image, drinking and feeling your body become loose, mind finally being allowed to forget about any worries you had. 

You were known to be a social butterfly; the pretty airhead that couldn’t stop talking once you got her started— always the life of the party, never one to cling to the wall and stare at the dance floor wistfully. 

Standing before the beach house of Yunjin’s parents, one they didn’t use as much as they once did when Yunjin was only a little girl with an affinity to the sea, you begin to wonder where that part of you has gone. 

You feel dreadfully out of place. You haven’t even gone inside yet. 

Music is blasting and the windows are dark, save for the bright neon lights that come from an unknown source; Yunjin has always been a sucker for that club vibe, anyway. You want to go in, want to walk inside and pretend like it’s nothing, but this time, you can only stand at the bottom of the steps and tug your dress down a little more. You feel like a prude. 

Deep breaths, you tell yourself— one in, one out, your chest rising and falling slowly as you  try calm your racing pulse— and with a silent okay of reassurance to yourself, you will your body to begin its trek up the steps. 

The door is unlocked; it’s not like you needed to knock to get in, anyway— only those with an invite even knew this party was happening. The place isn’t packed— nor is it meant to be— but it’s a bit crowded at least, filled with familiar faces for the most part; all people you grew up with or around, sons and daughters of influential families that grew to be nothing but partiers and troublemakers. In other words, your usual crowd. 

There are some exceptions to these guests, however. People you’ve seen around campus, student athletes with a scholarship and business majors that have already found themselves internships to the companies others in the room are a part of— and it seems that no matter how much everyone here tries to pretend and deny, they can never really separate their personal lives from the responsibilities passed down to them at birth. 

Your first instinct is to beeline it to the kitchen; in other words, to the makeshift bar Yunjin always sets up, an impressive display of alcohol and even a hired bartender making drinks left and right— you immediately ask for two jello shots, something Yunjin always made for herself and in extension, you, not in the mood for anything stronger as you opt to get this nervous energy out of you instead; you proceed to get two more a second after, just out of habit.

You should find Yunjin; let her know you’re here, make sure she doesn’t try to scold and bitch at you for promising to go to her party only to end up ditching— you’re sure she’d never believe you unless she saw you with her own eyes. 

The kitchen is empty. The makeshift dance floor seems to be empty as well, spending a few minutes scouring the place and shrugging off any passing advances; with a heavy sigh, you decide that you should check upstairs, just in case, ready to make your way up before a rough hand is grabbing at your elbow and tugging you back; the smell of alcohol greets you before Yunjin can. 

“You actually came!” Yunjin yells over the music, her face flushed from the alcohol and her balance off as she stumbles slightly; you make a quick move to catch her, eyes drifting down before you’re catching sight of the uncomfortable heels she dons— meeting her gaze once more, she pouts. 

“I don’t even know why I wore these,” she groans, running a hand through her auburn hair, watching the way it falls back into place perfectly— she then proceeds to scan over your own outfit, letting out a sound of awe as she smiles, “you look great! Pretty as always.”

She’s muttering something else, but you can’t really hear it over the sound of the music; eventually, you find your eyes drifting away to the dancefloor, wondering if there’s anyone else you could recognize— your eyes lock with a particular, infamous athlete’s, one that you’ve been dying to get with since the beginning of the semester— and you’re suddenly thankful for the buzz the jello shots provided you, Yunjin eventually following your gaze and cheering at the realization of what you were planning. 

She’s pushing you forward before you can even think things through; the man with dark hair simply smiles at you, coy eyes beckoning you closer— and with a deep breath, you decide to let go of any worries you had and go back to being your airheaded, carefree self— even if just for a moment. 

“Hey,” he says simply, a hand going to rest on your waist; the music is much too loud for you to converse properly, but you don’t really seem to mind as you allow yourself to get lost in the rhythm instead— that, and because your tipsy brain has forgotten his name, and the low lights that obscure his face aren’t exactly helping either. 

But it seems as though he was thinking the exact thing; he’s leaning down to ask the exact question you were wondering into your ear, deep voice and pouty lips that brush against the shell of your ear making you shiver— you’re muttering your name into his ear, tilting your head toward him to allow him to do the same.

Yeonjun. Your head seems to clear for the moment. 

“Looks like we finally meet,” he grins, still close to your face in order for you to be able to hear him; your face twists up in confusion, and he laughs softly before continuing. “You’re just as pretty as I’ve been told— my friend talks a lot about you. You’re trouble, hmm?”

“Your friend?” is all you can say in response, placing a hand against his chest and leaning in closer, the music muddling his words slightly; his hand continues to hold you steady, and the two of you continue to sway to the rhythm. 

“Yeah,” he laughs, staring at your face that’s twisted up in obvious confusion, “My roommate, Beomgyu? I heard he tutored you for a bit.”

His name is enough to clear your head entirely, as though a bucket of ice water has been poured over your body and drenched your figure. 

“He— he told you about me?” you ask, mentally slapping yourself for sounding so pathetic, for feeling so curious as you stare at Yeonjun with undeniably hopeful eyes; instead, all you get is another amused laugh from him. 

“Are you kidding? You practically traumatized him!” he jokes, though you don’t find yourself laughing along to that, lips twitching and a frown threatening to take over your features, “You’d think he was scared of you from the way he talked about you.”

You don’t respond to that; you’re not sure how you would respond to that anyway, letting out a weak laugh and falling silent as you look over his shoulder and fall back into the beat of the song— but it seems as though Yeonjun is too drunk, and frankly, unaware to take in your reaction, because he’s leaning into your ear and murmuring words that strike the final blow into your heart.

“He’s here, actually— Yunjin and him really seem to be hitting it off. Didn’t think he had it in him”

You chose to bite your tongue, biting back a bitter comment about how he really doesn’t have it in him to woo someone like Yunjin. But Yeonjun is too amused by his own comment to pick up on the sudden sourness of your mood, mouthing the lyrics to whatever’s playing and guiding your hips with a hand, a smile tugging at his lips as he sends you a wink. But you’re too shaken by this sudden news that you no longer feel the need to play along, much less try to hook up with him tonight. Now that you think about it, the once superficially important goal of chasing after the athlete before you had been pushed down the list of your priorities long, long ago. 

“‘M gonna get a drink,” you mutter miserably, pushing against Yeonjun’s chest and ignoring the way he immediately begins to complain, untangling yourself from his grip as you leave with one final, half-hearted sorry!

Screw jello-shots, you think to yourself, stumbling back to the kitchen with sore feet, I need something stronger. 

Something stronger comes in the form of a mysterious drink you let the bartender make for you; you didn’t exactly keep track of the ingredients he listed off to you, simply nodding instead when he asked if that’s what you wanted— if you think it’s strong enough, you replied with a smile, choosing to ignore the hesitant nod he gave you in return. 

The speed at which you downed the drink was enough to have the bartender at your side with a water and a warning look— you ignored it, of course, drinking the water with a slight pout, only bothering to drink half before you were back to the dancefloor; maybe you could distract yourself with Yeonjun for a while, you think. 

But any plans to track down the said man come to a glaring halt the moment you’re stepping out the kitchen; your eyes widen, surprised expression mirroring Hueningkai’s as he stands before you— his eyes scan over your figure, running back up and stopping at your hazed eyes and flushed face, the slight sway in your movement helping everything click in his mind; you’re a few drinks away from getting utterly wasted, and it seems as though that’s the path you’re getting ready to take. 

“Didn’t think you’d be here,” Hueningkai says, watching your face scrunch in confusion, taking a step forward to hear him better, “Thought you’d be too busy doing another study date to come.”

“Shut up,” you sneer, rolling your eyes and scoffing at the implications of his words, “And why do you care? I’m surprised you’re not fucking a random girl in Yunjin’s bathroom right now.”

“I tried,” Hueningkai rolls his eyes, smiling in that obnoxiously smug way as he watches you frown. He leans in, placing a hand on the doorway and above your head as he reaches out to grab your waist; tugging you close to him, lips ghosting the shell of your ear as he mumbles quietly, “but she wasn’t anywhere as good as you.”

“You’re gross,” you glare, leaning back as you let your lips upturn in disgust, already knowing what he’s implying— asking of you— with a simple look at his face. “Leave me alone, I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Are you still mad?” Hueningkai asks, beginning his chase even after you’ve successfully escaped his clutches, ignoring him with a roll of your eyes as you cross your arms and make your way out to the living room, “you never even told me what was wrong, you just ran away and kept bitching at me.”

You huff; it doesn’t seem like Hueningkai will give up anytime soon, so you’re whirling around and sending him a pointed glare as you finally give him the closure he so desperately keeps asking for. 

“I did tell you what was wrong,” you start, clenching your jaw at the way he immediately opens his mouth to refute that, “you treat me like nothing more than a fuck buddy, acting as though we weren’t actually friends before that! All you do is make me feel worthless, then you have the audacity to turn around and play the victim?! Like seriously, Hueningkai, is this all you see me as? A body to fuck?”

Hueningkai began asking you to keep it down the moment you felt yourself get riled up; volume rising, face heating up, you ignored him, ignored the odd looks you got from others, deciding that since the man before you wanted to hear your thoughts so badly, you’d let it all out.

“We used to be friends. We grew up together!” you say, feeling ridiculous for continuing to grieve the past, the days where things weren’t so complicated and all you felt for Hueningkai was a harmless crush. “I can’t believe I let you use me like this, just because I thought I liked— god, I’m so stupid.”

You don’t give him a chance to retaliate; you’re turning around and ready to weave your way through the faceless people and go outside, only making it halfway before Hueningkai is grabbing at your elbow and asking you to wait. His persistence garners yet another roll of your eyes.

“You what? Hang on, what was that last part?” he asks, trailing behind you and desperately asking for an answer— because of course he would hone in on that part. You continue to ignore him, tugging your arm out his hold and beginning to push through the crowd at the dancefloor— seriously, how many people did Yunjin invite? You seem to have severely underestimated the capacity of this place.

“You— did you like me? Do you like me?” Hueningkai’s last attempts to get something, anything from you are childish and do nothing but make your stomach churn, “Come on, we can talk this out, be mature about it— I can fix things, I can make it up to, yeah? Hey, don’t bail on me now—”

“Enough!” you yell, getting yet another round of side glances and strange looks from others; listening in like always, pretending horribly to be ignorant to it all.

You’re right before the doorway; so close, yet you know that if you leave now, Hueningkai will continue to follow and pester you— so as horrible as the timing is, you realize with a heavy feeling that now is your chance to do what you’ve been debating on for so long. 

“Please, I don’t want to do this anymore,” you say, your words weak as you look right into his eyes— and everything surfaces into your mind once more, the innocent hope you once had of stealing his heart one day, “Let’s just end this— everything.”

The words feel familiar on your tongue, only this time, you realize that this is the person you should’ve directed this message to in the first place.

“We don’t know each other,” you say, jaw clenched at the way it takes Hueningkai a second to process things due to the music that tries to drown you out— you still catch onto the exact moment where it all registers in his head, eyes widening and mouth opening to protest— but you beat him to it, not giving him another opportunity to try and haphazardly fix thing, albeit momentarily. Your eyes meet his, and your heart wrenches upon seeing that he’s more annoyed than hurt. 

“Don’t talk to me— we’re strangers now.”

The final blow is like a weight that is immediately taken off your shoulders; you reach to open the door and slip out. This time, Hueningkai doesn’t follow. 

The air is cool on your face and a nice contrast to the stuffy air inside the house. Slowly, you make your way to the corner of the porch fence, stumbling over due to the soreness of your feet and the alcohol that still runs through your system. So many emotions course through you, seemingly wanting to bring about a wave of nostalgia and sadness, lingering feelings for the man you’ve just let behind— but you won’t allow yourself to cry over him, scoffing instead at the way you allowed yourself to foolishly bend over backwards for him for so long. 

“Wow,” you hear a voice say, not bothering to look back as you immediately recognize who it is; Yunjin joins you, leaning against the fence and craning her head forward to properly survey you— you don’t bother looking at her, even more so when she finally continues,“That was harsh back there.”

You sigh. Because of course Yunjin heard that, and of course she’s the one to bring it up immediately after. 

“Didn’t think you’d actually cut him off— I thought you’d always be like, head over heels, hopelessly in love with him— like a little girl, you know? You never seemed to grow out of him.” You glare at her, but continue to remain silent; she laughs, throwing her head back at the sight, only to wobble back slightly from the sudden motion.

“Oh come onnnnn, you know it’s true!” she coos, proceeding to poke at you teasingly and twist her voice to sound like you, “Huening called me pretty. Huening bought me the purse I really wanted. Huening wants me to go with him to dinner with his parents. Huening Huening Huening—!”

Her laugh is obnoxious, even after you’ve hissed at her to be quiet; she continues to mock you under her breath, drunkenly quoting things she overheard from your outburst, and you realize with a disappointed sigh that she definitely won’t be stopping soon. 

“Heyyy, don’t get all sensitive on me now!” she whines, grabbing your hand and tugging you back when you attempt to leave; it doesn’t work, and you merely tug yourself out her grip, not even bothering to respond to her cries to stay.

Yunjin pauses her dramatics the moment you’re turning and leaving, scoffing at the way she offhandedly apologizes, words slurring together as she says that she’s sorry if you feel offended! You’re shaking your head at that, making your way back to where the stairs are, glancing back at the home one last time— and you’re freezing for a second when you meet Beomgyu’s gaze, the boy wide eyed and awkward as he stands at the doorway. Behind you, Yunjin cheers drunkenly. 

“Beomie! Hey, could you tell her to stop being so dramatic? Like come on, I’m just trying to have fun,” Yunjin’s rambles are left unacknowledged by you both, and you finally find strength within you to walk away after a second; it’s not like you and Beomgyu had anything to talk about, anyway. 

Behind you, Yunjin calls for Beomgyu to go to her and give her attention; her pleas fade from your ears and you’ve finally made it onto the beach, pulling out your phone and fumbling through your contacts before you’re finally ordering an Uber to pick you up instead— it was too late in the night for you to bother your driver. 

The closest driver will be here in fifteen minutes; you’ll spend those fifteen minutes sitting before the ocean, clothes riddled with sand and body still sobering up slowly, your shoes placed to the side as you dip your legs into the water— fifteen minutes of silence, allowing you to ponder if these people are really the ones you’ve chosen to affiliate with for half your life. 

You’ve become so entranced with the white noise of the waves that you couldn’t pick up on the approaching footsteps of another; it isn’t until the said person is sitting at your side that you’re finally snapping out of your trance. 

Beomgyu settles down beside you without a word. You watch him for a second, taking in his appearance— he must’ve been dragged here, if anything, his attire not straying from the usual sweaters and jeans— and you look away, staring back out into the horizon as silence continues to drag down between the two of you. 

“You’re not sensitive,” Beomgyu suddenly says, his voice so quiet and hesitant you almost missed it, “Or dramatic.”

You laugh humorlessly. 

“I know.”

“You deserve to feel wanted,” Beomgyu adds, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, taking in your troubled expression and distant gaze, “...And, your friends are all assholes.”

“...I know.”

It’s quiet. You’re staring down at your feet, at the waves that slowly make their way up your shins before they retreat. Tonight made everything clearer than ever— why did you ever bother to associate with those people? Family and social status was the answer, but as you sit on the beach and away from the rowdy, ruthless crowd, you realize that you feel much more comfortable where you are. 

“No one ever takes me seriously,” you say suddenly, staring at the ground and tracing shapes into the sand, “I mean, I never really gave them reason to; it was all just fun and games at first— since I was a girl, I mean. Everyone thought that because I was so obsessed with superficial things that I just didn’t have anything going on in my head, and I guess that was enough to let me become a joke to everyone. A pretty airhead who just thinks about makeup and clothes and purses.”

“I mean, I worked hard to get to where I’m at, y’know? There’s more to me than just that. I won’t deny that my parents and their wealth helped get me a lot, and I certainly won’t deny that I seriously slacked this semester, but I— I don’t know, I just wish people wouldn’t take the shit I say and do like an absolute cosmic joke sometimes; that everyone I know and surrounded myself with wasn’t so superficial and fake.”

Your mouth just began running without you realizing it, forcing you to spill everything that’s been weighing on your mind; you don’t even bother stopping yourself, refusing to glance at the boy beside you as you continue. 

“And you wanna know what the worst part is? For a while, I started to believe what they thought of me, started to play into it if it meant them… liking me more. Ugh, that sounds so pathetic, seriously. I need to get it together.” You roll your eyes, tossing your head back as you scold yourself midway through your rambling, “I thought that if I acted all cute and stupid, if I just molded myself into what they liked, they… he would choose me. Would decide to keep me around for more than just a fuck. Would reciprocate years and years of pining and pretending to be cool with him fucking around with other people— all while he got all sulky if I even mentioned other guys.”

Silence. You go quiet for a moment, hand stilling for a moment, brows knitting together as you stare at the mess you’ve made in the sand; Beomgyu opens his mouth to say something, but is swiftly cut off by the sight of you sitting up straight abruptly. 

“But I’m worth more than that, y’know? I deserve to have someone take it slow with me, to like me for who I am, to really take me seriously. Even if I act ridiculous sometimes.” You sigh, your lips twitching in a soft smile as you finally look up from the mess in the sand and at Beomgyu; his eyes meet yours, doe-like and wide as always. You laugh at his expression, and his face heats up at the sight. 

“God, I’ve been really insufferable, huh?” you laugh, looking away from him the moment you felt your heart beating a bit faster, “I just never shut up, I’ve been told it’s really annoying— I didn’t mean to dump that all on you like that.”

“It’s alright,” Beomgyu says hastily, biting at his lip and averting your gaze as he continues, “I like listening to you talk.”

Your eyes widen and his words echo through your mind, bouncing off the walls and repeating the message over and over. I like listening to you talk. 

Your mind seems to have entirely blanked out at that; how do you even respond? All you know is that your body seems to heat up entirely after a second, shivers running through your spine as you attempt miserably to find something to say, something that’ll probably shatter the mood entirely— but you can’t, and you’re stuck in a silence that grows tense as minutes pass. 

The ding of a notification sounds from your phone; the two of you are looking down at the screen that lights up, and you immediately scramble to leave the moment you read that your car is here.

“I— I have to go,” you say lamely, wincing at your accidental stutter; you don’t give Beomgyu a chance to say anything more, wiping the sand off your clothes and giving him a half-hearted wave goodbye. “See ya.”

If anyone accused you of running away like a coward, you wouldn’t even bother to deny such claims— because it’s true, and you all but sprint away in order to get out of Beomgyu’s sight, eyes frantically sweeping over the street until you finally spot your Uber, sending a small wave and getting inside quickly. 

“Sorry about the mess,” you say sheepishly, glancing down at your shoes that tracked in remnants of sand; slowly, the car begins to move, and you’re staring out the window and watching Yunjin’s beach house pass by— in the very distance, your eyes catch onto Beomgyu, who remains sitting still by the shore. 

Your mind echoes his words to you, and you’re failing miserably to push down the way your stomach seems to be filled with a flurry of butterflies, the way your face heats up and a smile threatens to break through your face. 

Fuck, you think to yourself, realizing with dread that you’ve only felt something this intense one other instance, many years ago.

Fuck. 

  ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥  

It’s been a few weeks since Yunjin’s party; a few weeks since you stopped talking to her, a few weeks since you dropped all your snobby friends you only made for connections, a few weeks since you finally broke things off with Hueningkai. 

A few weeks since you realized that you might see Beomgyu as more than just a nerdy, pathetic loser. 

You’ve found that you have a lot more free time these days; now that you’re no longer worried about attending worthless cocktail parties or going golfing to help Yunjin impress a CEO’s son who she’s had her eye on for days, you’ve found that your life has become a lot more peaceful— or rather, boring. 

Your social life is nonexistent; what else did you expect, after cutting off practically everyone you knew? You’ve become a homebody, much more focused on your work and finding more mundane hobbies— your grades have never looked better. 

Avoiding Yunjin and anyone associated with her was simple; it was nothing, passing by her and pretending like you two never knew each other, like the two of you weren’t once attached by the hip. It never phased you to be in the same room as her, not even batting an eye when she found herself sitting a table away from you in the dining halls. 

You just wish you could say the same about Beomgyu. 

God, what the hell has gotten into you? You’ve become a fumbling, ridiculous mess, not even able to look him in the eye when you spot him in the halls, in the library, in cafes; your body heats up and words get stuck in your throat whenever he’s so much as close in proximity, always finding a way to flee as soon as possible— you don’t even bother being inconspicuous anymore. 

It was apparent to anyone who knew you that this behavior was a complete switch from your usual self— cocky, flirty, bold— and Beomgyu, who had to spend hours on end with you, knew that better than anyone. 

He’s able to spot your odd behavior immediately. Though unfortunately for him, he’s unable to come to a proper conclusion as to why you may be acting like that, and simply decides that you must be holding up your promise still; the promise to act like complete strangers, that is. 

Beomgyu frowns, staring at your back as you stand in line at the cafe across the campus library; you’re rigid, as though turning around and acknowledging the man behind you could kill you. Did you really hate him that much? He thought he made progress back at Yunjin’s party, your moment of vulnerability allowing him to see you in a completely new light— because after a moment of thought, after you fled the scene with an awkward wave and an empty smile, Beomgyu began to think; he really didn’t know anything about you. He didn’t even know your major.

All he knew about you were superficial things— and Beomgyu found himself oddly irritated by the thought, wondering if he was any better than the very people you were complaining about; it weighed his mind, finding himself prattling off to Yeonjun about it one day, laying on the couch and petting Toto absentmindedly as he stared up at the ceiling. 

“She’s an architecture major,” Yeonjun said from the kitchen, looking up from the stove and meeting Beomgyu’s surprised gaze, “Yunjin told me once that she’s been working to try and get an internship at her father’s company— starting from the bottom up and everything. Heard it’s super competitive over there.”

You were a lot more hardworking and studious than Beomgyu— or anyone, really— gave you credit for. And as he watched you recite your order to the cashier, something so convoluted that the boy wondered if it was even good, he found himself wanting to learn more about you. You stood off to the side, staring down at your phone with a concentrated pout, and he wondered if he should bite the bullet and finally attempt talking to you. 

Just as Beomgyu was mustering up the courage to say something, just as he was about to open his mouth, your name was called and you picked up your drink with a swiftness he’s never seen before, making your way out and passing Beomgyu in the blink of an eye. He’s left waiting for his drink long after, snapped out of his reverie by a text notification. 

Huh Yunjin:

im at the library rn r u coming ??

dont keep me waiting :(

Beomgyu sighs, and trudges his way to the library with a pout; the feeling is reminiscent, but he can’t help but find himself thinking that it was you he was studying with instead. He spots Yunjin’s bright head of orange hair instantly, eyes glued to her phone and brows knitted together in a soft frown— and though Beomgyu apologized for being late and asked her to start without him, she didn’t seem to bother to even get her materials out. 

Internally, Beomgyu finds himself rolling his eyes— But he’s masking that with a soft clear of his throat, his calm voice asking Yunjin to get her textbook out so they can start their session— and she finally looks up from her phone, bright eyes filled with confusion before she smiles sheepishly. 

“Oh right, the textbooks,” she murmurs, looking over at the seat next to her where she’s placed her bag, then across where Beomgyu sits; his eyes widen at the sight of her collecting her things, standing up and rounding the table before she sits next to him— before he can question what he’s doing, she scoots her chair closer to him, shoulders touching as she sends him an innocent smile. “I… forgot mine… you don’t mind if we share, right? You said you took this class last semester.”

Beomgyu can’t contain the way he lets out an exasperated breath; he pulls out his laptop, pulling up his digital copy as he mentally complains about how unprepared and demanding Yunjin always seemed to be— he can’t remember the last time she actually brought her own supplies; if anything, Beomgyu was sure she hadn’t even bought her required texts. 

And as he scrolls through the index in search of the needed chapter, he feels Yunjin leaning in closer; all under the guise of seeing the screen better, but Beomgyu knows better than to believe that her intentions are all innocent. And despite Beomgyu’s multiple attempts to scoot away from her, he quickly finds himself trapped by the girl again, frowning at the way she laughs at everything little thing he says and tugs at his sleeve when she’s confused about something. 

For a moment, Beomgyu wonders if she might actually be hitting on him— but he soon catches onto the way she peeks over his screen after each attempt to be touchy, how she glances in the same direction after every soft coo of that same nickname that makes him wince— and he follows the path of her gaze eventually, not entirely surprised at what he sees; if anything, it helps everything click together. 

Beomgyu spots you sitting two tables away, face twisted up in concentration and headphones obstructing your ears, head bobbing rhythmically as you scribble things on your notebook, glancing back at your laptop’s screen ever so often; he catches sight of numbers and equations, and he realizes that you must be working on math homework. 

Without realizing, he’s found himself staring at you; this side of you that he never saw much, private and calm and hardworking, the image you said you wished others saw in you— and, as though you could feel it, you’re looking up from your work, meeting Beomgyu’s eyes instantly and watching as he flusters and looks away; your eyes then fall onto the girl who has him backed into the corner of the table, who leans into him and glances over you with a slight quirk of her lips— she sends you a small wave, then turns back to Beomgyu, calling out his name softly. 

Undeniably curious, you lower the volume of your music slightly— you didn’t expect Yunjin to actually go through with her plans of getting Beomgyu to tutor her, and much less her lasting this long— you’re bringing up a hand to your head as subtly as you can, moving the right side of your headphone away from your ear slightly and allowing yourself to listen in to whatever it is they talk about. 

While Beomgyu attempts multiple times to tutor her and teach her materials, Yunjin can’t seem to stop steering away in a completely different direction; asking him entirely unrelated questions, blatantly flirting and acting coy as she pulls at his sweater everytime he seems hesitant to answer— the sight is slightly amusing, but you can’t deny the way it makes you wince with annoyance. 

“Today’s your day off, right?” Yunjin asks eventually, smiling widely when he nods, albeit hesitantly, “Great! You know how you said you’d take me to dinner if I got a good score on my test?” 

You hear the sound of Yunjin’s nails clicking against a screen; undoubtedly searching for something, the soft mutters of Beomgyu’s you were the one who struck up the deal, making you bite your tongue in a desperate attempt to remain inconspicuous; from the corner of your eye, you’re able to catch the way the said boy glances over at you. 

“Well… ta-da!” Yunjin squeals happily as she shoves the phone into Beomgyu’s face, allowing him to see her results for the said test. Beomgyu hums absentmindedly at the sight. 

“Your place at seven?” Yunjin grins, poking his shoulder teasingly; Beomgyu doesn’t answer, but she chooses to take that silence as a yes. “Great! I have to go actually; promised my girls I’d have brunch with them— you understand, right?” 

Instead of fumbling with his words and asking her to not leave so abruptly, Beomgyu simply nods and hums a soft uh-huh. The sight is enough to have Yunjin scoffing, slinging her purse on her shoulder and reaching over to grab Beomgyu’s chin— she tugs it and makes him face her, the action so sudden that his eyes widen drastically— and she smiles, squishing his cheeks teasingly and pouting at his distant behavior. 

“Don’t get all pouty with me— I’ll see you soon ‘kay?” before Beomgyu can even process anything, Yunjin leans down to press a kiss to his cheek, feeling her lipstick transfer onto his skin— he’s slightly dazed, reaching up immediately to place a hand over the spot, staring at Yunjin with furrowed brows; she simply laughs and waves at him one final time, practically skipping out from how giddy she seemed.

From a distance, you watch Beomgyu quietly reach for his bag, his expression blank as he pulls out a tissue and his phone; you watch him use his front camera as a mirror, wiping at the lipstick with a soft frown. 

From a distance, you laugh to yourself— the distaste that appears on his face is obvious to you, and you can’t help but shake your head at Yunjin’s ridiculous behavior; god, was that what you looked like whenever you would bail on him mid-session? The very thought was terribly humbling to you. 

Yunjin’s attempts to get back at you by using Beomgyu were more than obvious; you think back to her actions, the way she blatantly flirted with him, the plans she suddenly tacked on him— on his day off, not to mention— and you roll your eyes, deciding that you might as well put an end to all these dramatics; not just for your sake, but for Beomgyu’s as well. 

  ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥  

Beomgyu is groaning to himself the moment he hears a sharp knock on his door— the last thing he wanted to do on his day off was spend his time entertaining a girl who was clearly using him for some odd, petty reasons— but he got ready nonetheless, texted Yunjin his address hours prior after being told that her driver would come pick him up, (he hadn’t gotten a response in relation to that message, but she’ll probably see it soon) and waited patiently on the couch, albeit much earlier than the proposed plans. 

Another sharp knock— Beomgyu wishes he had some proper excuse for her, told her that he already had plans with his roommate, but the said man was off on his shift already— he trudges over to the door, twisting the doorknob with a heavy reluctance, and sighs. He braces himself as he swings open the door to greet Yunjin with a halfhearted smile. 

“Hey,” you pant instead, leaning against the doorway and ignoring his confused— and shocked— expression, “I— am I late? I thought I was early, did you get ready early?” 

You gulp; since when could Beomgyu clean up so nicely? He’s forgone his usual, comfortable and casual outfits in favor of a perfectly pressed button up and a clean hairstyle— Yunjin must’ve planned to take him to quite the expensive place, you think to yourself. 

“Of course you’d be the type to get ready an hour early,” you mutter bitterly to yourself, the comment enough to have the said man glancing at the nearest clock in confusion— and just like you said, a bright six o’clock greeted him on the digital clock. 

“You— what’re you doing here?” Beomgyu stutters pathetically, unable to do much but relent to the way you step inside, closing the door behind him and turning around to face you, “I thought you didn’t want to talk to me anymore.”

“Yeah well, I lied.” you simply say, the words confusing the poor man even more, “I came to tell you to cancel your plans with Yunjin.” 

“Can— huh?” he searches your expression for the traces of a joke, but finds that you’re dead serious. “Why would I cancel? That’s rude.”

“Jesus, can’t you see?!” You say exasperatedly, reaching out to place your hands on Beomgyu’s shoulders, fingers digging in so he can look at you— it’s only when he finally does that you continue. “She doesn’t want to do this— she’s using you. She’s doing this to get back at me.”

“But why would she…” Beomgyu utters, and you wonder with a roll of your eyes where that boy genius of yours went. 

“Beomgyu,” you start, the sound foreign to the said boys ears as he blinks at you owlishly. You bite at your lip, brows furrowing at you think over what to say— you start again, but your words are hesitant and muddled. “She’s using you because she’s petty and because… because…” 

He gives you a look encouraging you to continue.

“Because— god, are you really gonna make me say this?!” you break, letting go of his shoulders and taking a step back— your face feels like it’s on fire and your stomach feels like it’s been twisted into knots, your hands clammy as you glance over at Beomgyu again— and he looks at you with the most stupid, oblivious expression known to mankind. 

You take a quick, deep breath, and you start again. 

“Choi Beomgyu. She’s using you because I…” you say sternly, reaching over suddenly to grab his face, cupping his cheeks and taking in the way he becomes red at your touch. You bring him close to you, pressing your lips in a fine line and hesitating before you observe his face— and god, he looks so pathetic and lost that you don’t even seem to mind the way the next words tumble out of you, fluid and clear and true. 

“Because I like you.”

Silence. You’re waiting anxiously in response, looking into Beomgyu’s eyes in anticipation, but all he does is stare. He stares and stares and stares, and for the first time in a while, you’re unsure of what to make of this reaction. 

“And I’m not lying either.”

Still nothing. His skin is warming up under your fingertips, and his mouth opens hesitantly to say something, only to close again— he must still doubt you, so you decide to take a leap of faith and reassure him the only way you know how.

“I think you’re cute and kinda pathetic in an endearing way, I think that those glasses really compliment your face and make your eyes look super doll-like, and I don’t really mind Toto. I think he’s still a bit weird to look at but I love that you love him, and it makes total sense to me that out of all the pets you could’ve had you decided to get a big freaky green bird of all things, and I think it’s super cute that you’re attached to him— I think you look kinda hot when you get frustrated on a problem, and I think it’s really hard to hold myself back from kissing you when you start stuttering at me like an idiot— also, it’s really not that bad that you play League of Legends, and I can’t believe I’m gonna admit this, but I started playing it myself and it’s not that bad— but that’s not the point, what I’m saying is that you’re— you’re a nerd and a loser but I don’t mind because I really— fuck, I really like—”

His lips are mashing onto yours before you can process his sudden movement, rough and sloppy and desperate that all you can do is slide your hands into his hair and pull him closer; his hands wrap around you in response, one on the small of your back and the other against the back of your head as he pulls you closer still, close until your bodies are pressed flush together. 

The two of you are so rough with your movements that he’s stumbling back, knocking against the wall and groaning softly at the impact; you’re sneaking your tongue into his parted lips, listening to the way he pants and moans against your mouth, slotting a leg between his and feeling as his thigh is quick to retaliate and press against your core. 

“Mghh– ugh, fuck,” you moan mindlessly, feeling his hand press against the small of your back, forcing you to arch and push your weight onto his strong muscle, allowing yourself to rock against it desperately; your mind is running a million miles an hour, pulling away from his lips breathlessly and staring at the gloss that has transferred onto him; his eyes look dazed, lips parted and in need for more as he tries to lead your head back to his. 

“Can’t believe she tried to use you against me,” you mutter, going back in to press quick, chaste kisses all along his face; he curls in shyly at the gesture, weakly grasping at your clothes as he feels the way you begin to trail them along his jaw, sucking and biting until you’re seeing the beginnings of marks that will bloom there, “shame it didn’t work— cause you’re all mine, right gyu?”

Like clockwork, he nods; his face heats up and he feels a bit ashamed at how quickly he’s melted under your hold, but any embarrassment is washed away the moment he feels your hand begin to fumble with his belt, clumsily undoing it before you’re moving to undo his jeans. 

“Wait,” you breathe against his neck, feeling him shiver softly; he’s confused, whining softly at the sudden loss of touch until he’s watching as you pull away, glancing behind your shoulder before you’re meeting his eyes with a blank expression, “take me to your room.”

For a second, he’s confused about the sudden switch of your behavior— but then he’s looking over your shoulder and right at the direction you glanced at, a sudden laugh breaking through him when he spots Toto in the corner; sheepishly, he nods. 

“Okay,” he says, smiling shyly at the way you reach out for the hand placed on the small of your back, intertwining your fingers so naturally it’s almost instinct, “yeah, okay. Let’s go.”

He watches you kick off your shoes and allows you to lead him straight to his room— he’s surprised you even remembered where it is— and smiles at the way you tug him closer by the collar the moment you step inside, palms pressing flat on his chest and making him walk backwards until his knees are hitting the edge of the bed— he falls back, hair splaying prettily on his sheets as he looks up at you with expectant, adoring eyes. 

You’re straddling him immediately after; planting your core directly on his prominent bulge, taking in the way he lets out a broken whimper at the feeling of your heat pressing against him so well— his hands fly to your waist, fingers weakly digging into the meat of your hips as he attempts to subtly buck up into you; you tsk, shaking your head and leaning down to place a hand firm on his chest. 

“Bad pup,” you say softly, hovering above his lips and watching as he desperately chases them, “You need to be patient, okay?”

He nods frantically, eyes fluttering shut the moment you press your lips against him slowly, feeling the way he desperately seeks to taste you— you allow him to, wandering hands beginning to unbutton his pristine white shirt slowly as he remains distracted. 

Beomgyu is a lot more fit than you expected; lean muscle greeting you the moment you slip his shirt off his shoulders, leaning up to let him take it off and raking your nails down his skin— his stomach flinches at your nails scratch at it, and you smile childishly at the sight, the action reminiscent to the first time you got your hands on him. 

“So pretty…” you mumble to yourself, tracing a path along his chest, down to his navel, watching as he shivers at your touch; a shaky gasp escapes his lips, hands grabbing at his sheets and eyes fluttering shut as he fights back the urge to buck up into you again— your eyes flicker up to study his expression, titling your head curiously as a smile tugs at your lips. 

“You’re so pretty, Beomgyu,” you say again, leaning down to plant soft kisses along his neck, beginning to trail down until you’re at his chest— you’re able to watch the way his skin flushes a soft pink at your words, shy gaze averting quickly the moment you’re looking back up at him— and you laugh softly to yourself, hovering over his lap and trailing a hand down as you begin to undo his pants with ease. 

“Y’know, I’ve never seen you so dressed up before,” you comment offhandedly, taking a moment to observe his pristine clothes, his styled hair— and your jaw clenches at the thought of Yunjin seeing him like this, an inkling of jealousy beginning to rear its ugly head the longer you think about it; you’re tugging at his pants, watching as his hips lift to help you tug them down more, and scoff at your wandering thoughts. 

“Bet you would’ve loved to have her attention on you, hmm?” you say, beginning to roll your hips against his the moment he opens his mouth to protest— a sharp moan leaves Beomgyu instead, mouth falling open at the feeling of your cunt grinding against his, the only thing separating the two of you being your thin panties and his boxers that are quickly becoming ruined; his eyes flicker down to where you continue to roll your hips, the sight of your skirt riding up and bunching up at your thighs enough to have his cock twitch. 

“Just can’t control yourself when you’re with a cute girl— just can’t say no,” Beomgyu’s hips jump and he lets out a long whine at a particularly harsh roll of your hips, feeling his cock slot perfectly against your cunt, the material of your panties soaked and sticking to your pussy, able to feel you better the more pressure you add; his hands fly to your hips once more, but instead of trying to guide your pace, they simply remain there, grabbing at your skirt and fisting the material in his hands, flushed face and shining eyes begging silently for more. 

“No— can’t, can’t say no— ah!” Beomgyu begins, unable to speak properly with the sight of you on top of him and the feeling of your warm cunt on his aching cock, “can’t say no to you… fuck…”

His words are enough to catch you off guard; your pace is stuttering and your eyes are widening, the brief pause enough to give Beomgyu enough confidence to continue— his eyes are glassy as he stares up at you, thumbs absentmindedly rubbing circles on your hips as he speaks. 

“Could never say no to you…” he says softly, face reddening as he continues, “you’re too pretty to say no to.”

He doesn’t quite meet your gaze after that; he’s too shy to, but with the way you immediately begin to undress before him after a moment, he’s sure that he must’ve flipped a switch inside you. 

“God, you’re so cute…” you mutter, throwing your shirt off in a random direction before you’re sliding your skirt off— and Beomgyu is growing flustered at the sight again, practically malfunctioning from seeing your body for the first time. 

You’re left in only your underwear when you finally decide you’ve had enough of his shyness, grabbing his face with a firm hand and turning it to look back at you; your nails dig into his plush cheeks and his eyes grow wide at the gesture, meeting your eyes as you simply give him a coy smile and a peck to his lips. 

“So pathetic too,” you continue, watching his adam’s apple bob at your condescending words, “I love it.” 

You lean close to his ear; slowly, you take his hands and begin guiding them along your body, feeling the way his breath hitches and his chest begins to take shallow breaths, shaky fingertips grazing against your skin, up your biceps until you’re leading him to your back, straight to your bra strap.

“Undo it,” you murmur against the shell of his ear, able to listen to the way he gulps softly; nervous hands fiddle with the clasp, the way you place chaste kisses to the spot behind his ear not helping in the slightest— and after a moment, you’re finally able to feel the garment loosening around you, along with a soft sigh the boy lets out. 

The straps slip off your shoulders slowly, and with a coy smile, you make a show of discarding your bra, sitting back and watching as Beomgyu’s face turns impossibly red; his eyes are wide and his hands are frozen, unsure of what to do as you simply huff at the sight— and your hands are taking his once more, guiding them slowly until he’s cupping your breasts; he gulps again, and you pout at the sight. 

“Don’t you wanna touch me?” you pout, tilting your head and watching as the man underneath you remains reliant on your instructions to do anything; his eyes snap back up to meet yours at your words, shaking his head softly and opening his mouth to stutter protests.

“I– I do, I do,” he says, licking his lips nervously before looking back down at your breasts, thumbs experimentally swiping across your nipples; you shiver at the feeling, the sight of even your smallest reactions making Beomgyu’s cock ache, “I just… I’m not sure what to do….what you’d like.” 

“It’s okay,” you immediately say, absentmindedly guiding his hands to touch and caress your breasts just how you like, your back aching slightly at the stimulation, “I can teach you.” 

“Please,” Beomgyu whines out, hands finally beginning to move on their own as a smile grows on your face, watching the way looks at you with needy, fucked out eyes, “Please, wanna make you feel good.” 

“Do you now?” you tease, titling your head and raising a brow at him questioningly; he nods his head fervently, eyes filled with an undeniably desire that leads him to take your body in hungrily, trailing from your chest down until he stops right at your cunt thats pressed so perfectly against him. 

His line of sight is terribly obvious— though you don’t think it was Beomgyu’s intention to hide his desires anyway, not with the way your back is suddenly colliding against his bed, a gasp escaping you the moment you feel warm hands prying your legs open; you’re propping yourself up with your elbows, wide eyes meeting Beomgyu’s; the said man kneels on the floor and is now at eye level with your soaked cunt— his fingertips dig into the soft flesh of your thighs, and with a soft laugh, you realize that Beomgyu is yet again waiting for further instructions. 

“Can I taste you?” He asks meekly, eyes shining behind the lenses of his glasses, the sight endearing and a complete switch from the words that leave his mouth, “will you let me?”

Silence— all he gets in response is a slow sigh, the boy peeking through his lashes to get a gauge of your expression; he gulps at the sight of your narrowed eyes and pinched brows, mind undoubtedly thinking of scenarios that sour your mood— but the sight of you like this is much too tempting, and Beomgyu will be damned if he doesn’t get to lose himself in your pussy at least once; his cock pathetically twitches at the mere thought. 

“I don’t know puppy,” you murmur, sneering at the way he pouts immediately, strong hands tugging at you and pulling you towards him more, body sliding at the movement— and though you can feel him breathe against your clothed cunt, he still refrains from doing anything, waiting loyally for your okay with pleading eyes. 

“Do you think you deserve it?” you ask, throwing a leg over his shoulder, digging the heel of your foot in between his shoulder blades roughly— he practically keens at the feeling, a poorly stifled whimper escaping him, followed by a shaky sigh, “after seeing the way you’ll give anyone who approaches you all your attention like a slut, I don’t think you do.” 

You make sure to punctuate your words with another dig of your heel, but Beomgyu remains unaffected— if anything, it manages to spur him on more, and you’re left to pretend as though his next actions don’t leave you terribly weak. 

“Please…” he whispers, the sound so soft you barely miss it— he’s pressing a soft kiss to the inside of your knee, lips lingering on the skin before he looks back up to meet your gaze; his eyes are glazed with nothing but need. The single word continues to leave him like a mantra, unable to do anything more than watch as he begins to litter kisses all over your inner thighs, soft begs slowly increasing their intensity the longer you deny him. 

I deserve it, I do; please, please let me make you feel good, promise you’re the only one for me— please? Please, please please please…

It’s quiet, save for the sounds of Beomgyu’s broken, repetitive begging— his hair brushes against your sensitive skin that has been peppered with endless kisses, and if it weren’t for the way Beomgyu’s eyes were beginning to become watery from his desperation, you would’ve allowed yourself to enjoy the show a little more. 

“You want it that much?” you seethe, a hand going down to tangle itself in his long hair— and, just as expected, he lets out a broken whine, followed with an immediate, breathy “yes” that affects you much more than you let on, “Go on then.” 

You’re guiding his head to your cunt without another word, fingers still entangled tightly in the roots of his hair; he begins with a soft kiss to your cunt, the sight making you roll your eyes— for someone so eager, he sure was hesitant. 

His tongue is hot and heavy against your clit; he’s running the tip of it along your slit, listening to the hitch of your breath and taking in every miniscule reaction you provide— he’s teasing you, albeit unintentionally, and the realization has you tightening your hold on his roots in warning; you feel the way he lets out a shaky breath at the action, and soon after, his fingers are tugging at the waistband of your panties, making slow work to properly take them off. 

Beomgyu’s every movement is feather-like and hesitant; it’s clear he’s testing out the waters, unsure of what to do in order to please you— and while a part of you is endeared at the messy kitten licks of his tongue and the way he circles your clit sloppily, the other part of you seems to be feeling much more unforgiving— you’re tugging his hair and telling him to look at you with a harsh voice. 

“What happened to wanting to please me? To deserving this?” you mock, lips quirking to a satisfied smile the moment his face heats up, ears tinting a soft red, “are you too much of a virgin to know how to eat a girl out?”

His face turns a bright red and he remains silent— you can only manage a bewildered laugh at the sight. 

Of course, how did you not piece it together before? It seems as though you were much too generous to give him the benefit of the doubt before, because as you stare Beomgyu down with a gaze that’s nothing short of predatory, you’ve realized that his silence tells you more than enough; He’s a total virgin. 

“Oh, you don’t know anything, do you?” you coo softly, letting go of Beomgyu’s scalp to caress his face softly, a grin threatening to break through your face from the simple sight of the man melting into your touch, “you need me to guide you through it?” 

With a shaky sigh, Beomgyu nods— it barely takes a moment before you’re pushing at the back of his head and guiding him back to your cunt. 

He didn’t bother to take off his glasses; you didn’t bother to remind him, smiling cruelly as you murmur soft instructions to him, telling him to suck on your clit or guiding his mouth to lick at your entrance, responding with soft sighs of pleasure whenever he does something particularly well; he’s sloppy, inexperienced, and undeniably nervous, but you suppose he makes up for its with his eagerness to do well as he continues, slowly taking note of what makes your hips buck and your fingers tighten against his hair— and after a few minutes, you’re no longer instructing Beomgyu step by step, but instead throwing your head back and letting your mouth fall open with unabashed moans. 

Beomgyu’s eagerness is abundant and blatant. He’s pressing his face against your cunt after having gained confidence, mouth sloppy and hanging open as he allows you to grind against him, feeling his glasses slip down the tall bridge of his nose and fog up with every pant of breath— but he finds that he doesn’t really mind, eyes fluttering shut and lips circling around your clit as he hones in to the sounds you make instead. 

You think Beomgyu’s head is completely empty at this point; his fingers dig into your thighs and he continues his attempts to bring you closer against his face, greedy mouth drinking up any arousal that slips from your entrance before he’s fucking you with his tongue— your hips buck unintentionally against him at that, and from the way he only increases his efforts even further, you think he might’ve enjoyed that. 

“Beomgyu— puppy, fuck,” you hiss, grinding your hips against his face, feeling the way his nose is now pressed against your clit from how close he’s attempting to get to you. Your chest heaves and you can feel a tight knot forming in your stomach, body beginning to become restless as Beomgyu remains unfazed at your sudden squirming— you’re close, so close, and Beomgyu wants nothing more than to feel you fall apart against his face. 

“Shit– right there, just like that— don’t stop, god, fuck—!” Your eyes are screwed shut as a sudden wave of pleasure breaks through you, your hand pulling at Beomgyu’s hair and your heel digging sharply into his back as you cum; the boy only lets out a pathetic whine at the feeling of you rolling your hips smoothly against his face, mouth left ajar and eyes fluttering shut as he lets you use him, riding it out with twitchy legs and soft moans. 

Beomgyu only moves after your grip slips from his head entirely; your whole body is falling slack, a deep sigh escaping you as you attempt to catch your breath, eyes bleary and slowly opening after a moment— you’re able to watch as the said boy goes to stand, a weak hand of yours stopping his motion and grabbing at his shoulder— and you’re guiding him to hover over you, smiling coyly at the wrecked sight of him. 

His glasses are completely skewed— a slight heat burns at your face from the sight, but it’s all washed away by the lopsided smile Beomgyu gives you, entirely unaware of his flushed and messy appearance; gently, you reach out to slip off his glasses, putting them off to the side as you reach to adjust his mused hair next— he merely watches your face with doe eyes as you brush his hair away gently, tucking it behind his ear before you cup his jaw, tugging him down to kiss you again.

“You’re sure you wanna do this?” you mumble against his lips, hands absentmindedly running along his skin soothingly, lips beginning to wander off as you trail soft pecks against his jawline, smiling at the way he doesn’t hesitate to nod, “you want it?”

“Need it,” Beomgyu whines, letting out a shaky breath as he grabs your hand, guiding it down his chest slowly, adding pressure once you’ve reached the bulge of his boxers— you can feel the way he twitches the moment you touch him, gulping softly before the continues to plead, “need it, need to feel you.” 

His voice is sweet and soft in your ears, and you find that you can’t really bring yourself to put up a front and resist; it’s physically impossible to, especially with the way he ruts his cock against your hand, leaking pathetically and twitching at even the slightest stimulation.

Beomgyu’s attempts to remain calm and collected falls apart the moment you relent, face red and eyes wide with anticipation the moment he feels your hand go to pull his cock out; he falters above you for a split second, teeth sinking into his lip to suppress a whine that builds up in his throat. But his attempts are futile as always, a broken whimper leaving him the moment you press the head of his cock against your cunt, tightening around the shaft and proceeding to run it along your slit teasingly. 

He’s practically panting above you, fingers gripping onto the sheets as he allows you to toy with him, eyes glassy and meeting yours as you simply coo mockingly at him, teasing him for being nothing but a toy for you to use.

The moment you press his tip against your entrance, the two of you tense; a shaky sigh escapes you at the stretch, looking up at Beomgyu and whispering for him to just put it in already; and he swallows, eyes watering at the feeling of him finally pushing into you— warm, wet walls that flutter around him, stretching and adjusting to his size; your hips that jolt with every inch he slides in, eyes widening and mouth falling open as you try to contain your composure— but his size is no joke, and curses leaves your mouth endlessly at the feeling of him filling you up.

“God— you’re so… so warm, so tight,” Beomgyu cries above you, hips stuttering and making him push himself deeper into you; a yelp escapes you at the feeling, hips pressed flushed against his as you stare up at him with wide eyes, cunt clenching at the anticipation of him fucking you. 

But he simply remains still, and you’re just about to complain for him to move when you catch sight of his expression, screwed up into concentration as he lets out a deep breath— probably trying not to cum, you muse to yourself— and he sits up, no longer hovering over you as his hands move to your hips, thumbs rubbing circles on the skin as he looks down where the two of you connect; he looks up at you, puppy eyes begging for one thing. 

“You— you can move,” you breathe out, cringing slightly at the weak sound of your voice, the way you trip over your words; Beomgyu nods, sighing shakily again before he finally begins to move, slowly pulling out until the only thing you feel is his tip catching at your entrance— then he thrusts back in, and you don’t bother to swallow down the moan that manifests from that. 

Beomgyu isn’t faring any better than you; his brows are knitted together and his fingertips dig into the soft flesh of your hips, voice pitchy and whiny as he attempts to fuck you properly— but his thrusts are sloppy and rough, and it seems as though he’s too concentrated on the feeling of you around him to find a good pace. 

You’re opening your mouth to tease him about it, only to get cut off at the feeling of him bumping his cock against your sweet spot; a whine leaves you unexpectedly, the sound accompanied with the feeling of your legs attempting to wrap around his waist to pull him in enough to snap him out of his pussy drunk daze. He’s drinking up your expression, his pace slowing down enough to allow him to search for that spot again— it takes a few attempts, but once he catches onto it, he doesn’t relent. 

“Sh–shit, just like that,” you whine, his thrust becoming more calculated as he begins to take note of what makes you feel good once more— though it’s still slightly sloppy and uneven, his weak pants and pitchy whines enough to tell you that his mind is much too hazy to care.

Absentmindedly, your hand snakes down to circle at your clit in search of more stimulation— only to get it knocked away roughly by Beomgyu’s, eyes widening at the action until he’s replacing you hand with his— and though you wish you could make fun of him for being such a desperate bitch, the stimulation has your voice getting caught in your throat.  

“Does— does this feel good?” Beomgyu suddenly asks, puppy eyes watering and glazed as he picks up his pace, one hand gripping onto your waist while the other continues to rub your clit, “Am I– ah… am I doing good?”

You almost miss the last part with how softly he says it— but once you process his question, you let out a breathy laugh, biting at your lip in an attempt to suppress the smile that tugs at your face; you fail miserably, but all the patronizing look in your eyes does is make Beomgyu’s cock twitch inside you a bit. 

“Does my stupid puppy need something? Need my approval?” you ask, pouting at the way he hesitates to answer, “I won’t know unless you tell me, baby.” 

The pet names are enough to have Beomgyu short-circuiting again; his face feels hot and he lets out a petulant whine at the way you continue to tease, ignoring his pleading look as you reach up to cup his jaw, cooing his name so sweetly he’s unable to be ashamed at how easily he breaks. 

“Tell me I’m doing good,” he whines, and you simply smile at him, stuttered breaths and soft moans the only thing leaving your lips as you notice the increased sloppiness of his thrusts, his erratic voice and face that slowly nears yours, hovering over you as he speaks.

“I’m— ‘m good, right? Your…” he trails off, punctuating his next word with a harsh, deep thrust that has you yelping, “your good boy— tell me, tell me I’m good, just wanna hear you say it, ah, wanna be good for you.” 

He’s a babbling, whining mess, hiding his face in your neck immediately after the words escape him— and with a request so sweet, how could you ever deny him?

“So good for me,” you immediately respond, listening to the muffled whimpers as he buries his head deeper into your neck, wandering lips sucking and biting at the skin, “good little pup— fuck, are you close? Gonna fill me up?” 

You feel the way he nods frantically against you, his hand leaving your hip to circle under your back, pulling you flush against him as he continues his rough, haphazard thrusts— and you turn your head to face him, pressing a kiss to his head before you lean in close to his ear, the sounds of your breathy moans and sweet voice enough to bring him over the edge. 

“C’mon, cum for me puppy,” you coo, listening to the long whimper he lets out in response, hips stilling and pressing flush against yours as he follows your command, warm cum filling you up as he rides out his orgasm, cock rutting subtly into you all the while, “that’s it— such a good boy, so perfect to me.” 

His chest heaves against yours; his other arm comes up to sneak under your body as well, successfully hugging you close against him, bodies pressed together and practically one with how tightly he’s got you in his grip— his cock remains inside you all the while, head nuzzled deeply in the space of your neck as you merely let out an amused huff, giving him a moment to catch his breath before you tease him again. 

The moment of peace between the two of you is cut by the abrasive sound of his phone ringing, the two of you looking at the source with furrowed brows; neither of you make a move to get it, watching it continue to vibrate on the bed before it goes silent— you’re both falling back against the bed the moment in bliss the moment the ringtone disappears, and you can feel Beomgyu’s arms tightening around you even more, not expecting him to be so openly clingy—

“You didn’t cum,” Beomgyu suddenly gasps, head popping up from his hiding place as he hovers over you with wide eyes. You simply reassure him that it’s alright, already feeling your body get heavy with exhaustion— but he isn’t having it, shaking his head and standing back up as he looks at you with an unbelievably solemn expression, wincing softly as he pulls out of you, “No, I wanna make you cum— wanna feel you cum on my dick, wanna make you feel good.” 

The words sound clumsy coming from him, oddly shy to say what he wants out loud— and it makes you laugh, attempting to tell him that you really don’t mind when you’re getting interrupted by the annoying sound of his phone ringing. 

“Seriously, who the hell is…” you’re trailing off as you watch Beomgyu’s eyes widen, leaning over to snatch his phone as he reads the contact name, his horrified expression telling you all you need to know. 

“Don’t answer it,” you seethe, ignoring the way he stutters about how he totally forgot to cancel, feeling a hot anger bubble in your stomach as he talks about how bad he feels for not communicating properly, “Beomgyu, don’t answer it!” 

“I— what if she’s waiting outside right now—?!”

Your movements are much too sudden and swift for him to process; he can only watch and allow you to snatch the phone away from him, rough hands gripping his shoulders and hissing at him to fucking sit; he’s quick to comply, and you’re even quicker to climb onto his lap and situate yourself just how you like— he cries softly at the feeling of you grabbing at his sensitive cock, stroking it for a moment and aligning it with your entrance before you’re sinking down on him slowly. 

“Who cares if she’s outside right now,” you scowl, digging your fingers in his cheeks and forcing him to look at you, swollen lips red and pouty as he merely whines at the feeling of you rocking slowly against him, “it’s the least we could do to get back at her for trying to fucking use you.”

His protests die down once you pick up your pace; oh, his face practically screams, eyes glazing over at the feeling of your warm pussy using his sensitive cock to get yourself off, soft cries leaving him as he merely watches you begin to ride him expertly, already feeling himself get hard inside you, the sight of you on top of him and the sounds of skin against skin riling him much more than expected.

“Hnng, wait, slow down please—!” he whines softly, hands flying to your hips yet making no attempts to control the pace— and you can only laugh at him, the sounds of his soft cries enough to encourage you more. 

You’re close— so, so close, and all Beomgyu can do is sit and take it, tears of sensitivity pricking at his eyes and falling along his cheeks the moment he feels your walls clench against him— but he’d rather die than stop you, sp entranced with the sight of your face twisted with pleasure that his body screams at him to do what he can to make you feel good. 

Like instinct, your hand tangles itself in Beomgyu’s hair the moment he latches his lips against your nipple, back arching and the tight knot in your stomach falling apart the moment his wandering hand goes to play with your clit; the way your walls spasm and hug him tightly is enough to have Beomgyu cumming inside you again, a pathetic keen sounding from him as he buries his head in your chest, beyond sensitive with the way you continue to ride your orgasm long after.

It’s quiet, save for the sounds of your panting and Beomgyu’s soft whimpers— but it doesn’t last long, a tired groan escaping you at the sound of Beomgyu’s phone ringing again; without much of a thought, you reach for it and finally answer. 

“Leave him alone. He’s busy.” 

You hang up immediately after— the girl on the other side didn’t get the chance to utter a single word, and you find that you couldn’t care less as you toss his phone to the side and look over at Beomgyu— you’re smiling softly at the way he seems mortified at your action. 

“Oh come on, don’t tell me you feel bad,” you sigh, placing your hands on his chest and pushing, gently guiding the two of you to lay down— he remains inside you as he pulls you in close, your limbs heavy and tangling quickly as he mutters a soft no, I don’t; you smile. “Good. Cause I almost got mad again.”

He chuckles softly at that, falling quiet after; you look up at him to gauge his expression, finding that he’s lost in thought. After a few minutes, he meets your eyes meekly and finally speaks. 

“Did you really mean what you said earlier?”

A pause. You said a lot of things earlier— but as you retract on every little thing that's come from your mouth, you realize what he’s talking about— and you laugh, reaching to cup his cheeks fondly as you nod. 

“Of course I did,” you grin, pecking his lips, your heart fluttering wildly at the way he immediately chases after you for more after you pull away, “I meant all of it— and more.” 

Softly, he smiles. His arms that were wrapped around you pull you in close, closing the space between you and bringing you in for a slow, sweet kiss— he pulls away, leaning into your ear to whisper something with a coy smile. 

“So do you wanna play League of Legends later?”

You let out an annoyed yell and punch at his chest— you practically fuck his brains out, and this is all he can say?

“You’re such a fucking loser,” you mourn, hiding your face in your hands. 

Beomgyu laughs, and places a kiss on the top of your head. 

“But I’m your loser,” he says sweetly, nuzzling against your hair with a content sigh, “all yours.”

Under the covers of your hands, you smile. 

All yours. You like the sound of that. 

#txt fanfic #txt fanfiction #txt imagines #txt oneshots #txt ff #txt x reader #txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #beomgyu smut #beomgyu ff #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu oneshot #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu fanfic #beomgyu fanfiction

[angelwonie]

in which coriolanus snow might have beaten someone up for talking badly about you.

PAIRING: academy!snow x fem!reader

SUMMARY: coriolanus snow does reckless things when it comes to you.

WARNINGS: mentions of broken ribs and a crematorium (coryo is dramatic lol), up to interpretation whether he's morally gray

WORD COUNT: 0.8k

“Why’d you do it?”

Coriolanus’ head snaps up at the sound so familiar to him and yet resounding in a somewhat foreign tone through the room. He’s at the academy past hours, finishing up homework his aching fingers didn’t allow him to write this morning. You’re leaning against the doorway, a few stairsteps below him, arms crossed over your chest. Your face is almost entirely hidden from him; the only source of light, his oil lamp, does little to change it.

“What do you mean? Why are you standing in the shadows? Come sit.”

He hears a scoff, now sounding much more like what he’s accustomed to with you. 

“Answer the question,” you say.

“I don’t know what you m—”

“Why did you hit him, Snow? I won’t ask again.” 

Finally, the contours of your figure appear clearly in his line of sight. The vague light illuminates your face contorted in chagrin, brows furrowed like they so often are when the two of you are working on assignments. He leans back in his chair, blonde locks falling onto his forehead.

“You know why,” he counters, watching as you approach. Instead of sitting down next to him, you stand before his desk with expectant eyes. He mimics your stance, crossing his own arms over his chest half-seriously. “You know, so how come you’re here asking me stupid questions?”

Finally, you crack. 

“Because you’re an idiot, that’s why.” Sighing angrily, you plop down next to him and land a slap to his shoulder. He hisses in pain and the corners of your mouth lift in satisfaction. “A self-aware one, at that—which is even worse.”

“That is entirely subjective.”

“Don’t even start.”

“Why? Were you worried?” 

You let out a humorless laugh. “For Festus more than you. Have you seen him?”

“I wish. Bet he looks awful with half his ribs broken.” Your open palm hits his shoulder and he gasps anew. “When did you become so violent?” 

You scoff and push him, but he barely moves. “I’m violent? You’re so infuriating. They wanted to throw you out. I had to beg his parents for mercy. Me, who, by the way, did nothing wrong. So if I want to hit you right now, I have every right.”

He sighs and tilts his head against the wall. “I’m sorry, alright?”

“You don’t mean it.”

He smiles. You raise your hand to hit him again, but decide against it, instead laying it on the side of his face. His shoulders tense momentarily before he remembers it’ll be weird if you notice and he forces himself to relax as your fingers run over his cheek and neck, before they slide down to hold his right hand. You bring his bruised knuckles to your eyes, inspecting them. 

“How many times did you even hit him?”

“I don’t know, like, fifty before Sejanus hauled me off.”

“You’re insane,” you say. 

He thinks you’re probably right. But Festus said what he said and paid the price. At a discount at that—because if it were up to Coriolanus the asshole wouldn’t be lying in the hospital but the crematorium. Silence settles and all he hears is your breathing. Your fingers stay caressing his hand and each time they run over the bruises on his knuckles, he twitches indiscernibly, fighting the urge to jolt away. 

“Will you tell me what he said?” you ask, this time softer. 

“I don’t remember in detail…” he starts, but you stare at him knowingly and he cannot bring himself to lie. “Something about how you’re going to share my mother’s fate.” 

“Coryo,” you say. 

The two of you remain silent. He thinks you might stand up and leave; he thinks you’re terrifying at this moment, with your hair framing your face and your eyes on fire and your lower lip trembling. He thinks he’s said too much of the truth. Suddenly, you make a sound close to choking and he stiffens all over. 

“Coryo.” Your voice is feeble, shaky, as you wrap your arms around him and pull him in. In shock, he can do nothing more than let you hold him, taut as a string. “You should have told Dr. Gaul or…”

He has enough fervor in him still to chuckle, although it’s only half-hearted. “And what would she have done?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. 

You sit, embracing in the dark, in silence. He’s tense until you start rubbing his back, then he considerably relaxes with a hot sigh against your neck. It raises hairs all over your body, the heat, and you breathe out slowly. You smell like victory, he thinks, like roses and winter and gold. 

“He was wrong.” Your fingers dig into his shoulders as you pull away for a brief moment to look him in the eyes. Blue, piercing eyes which gaze at you in a manner so unidentifiable. “You hear me? He was wrong about me and you and everything. I promise. I’m glad you punched him.”

“I did it for you.”

“I know. I know.” 

In the half-dark room, he wraps his arms around you tighter. 

i havent posted for so long so have this. also always remember i liked him first bcs i was in love already when i read the book two years ago. everyone else back off!! please let me know if u liked this and maybe ill write smth longer for coryo later xx

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow smut

[billyrayjo]

Stumbling Home With You

Azriel x Reader

In which the reader gets drunk and has a certain shadowy boy there to take her home.

Warnings: cussing, mentions of alcohol, fluff, smut.

Small announcement: Y’all I am a SLUT for Azriel. I swear, with how many scenarios I’ve read/ imagined about him I am HORRIFIED that SJM’s depiction of him is going to be underwhelming. I have a few more ideas in the works, possibly even a long series. I would like to write a few fluff and angst fics only just for those who don’t like smut (and I do feel awkward writing it sometimes too lol). I’m working on a masterlist as well. Feel free to leave requests! In the meantime, enjoy this scenario that I’ve imagined one too many times about daddy azzy 🤭.

Pounding bass worked its way through your limbs as you pushed yourself through the crowded bar. You and your friends had decided on a night at Rita’s, finally blowing off some steam after the stressful months you had endured. You had just picked up your current drink from the bar, making your way back to the booth your friends occupied.

As you approached, slurping down some of the cool liquid, you felt eyes turn to you. “Are you almost ready to go, (Y/N)?” Rhys questioned, his voice slightly raised to ensure you heard him over the loud music and chatter. “Guuuyyyss. It’s not even one yet! I get you’re all getting old and doing adult things, but you need to let loose!” You whined, plopping down in the booth beside Feyra. “Oh please. We’ve endured enough of your sloppiness in our lifetimes to call the night early.” Rhys teased, a feline smirk taking over his face.

After much pleading, and attempts at convincing, your friends were unwavering. Each one standing to grab their things and telling you goodnight one by one. You huffed to yourself, your arms crossing as a drunken pout took over your features. You sagged in the booth, your eyes closing to fight off the blur in your hazy vision. How much had you drank?

Just as you were about to start counting to yourself, you heard a muffled “Let me walk you home, (Y/N)” from your right. You slightly noticed the shadows whirling around your crossed arms when you shot your gaze over to him, confusion scrunching your brows. “You stayed?” you questioned, trying to think back to telling everyone bye. Now that you were looking back on it, you realized a certain shadowsinger had never bid his farewells.

“Of course I did.” He replied, a hard look taking over his features in his seriousness. You sighed again, going to stand from the booth before replying, “Okay, Azzie. You can walk me home.” softly smiling in his direction. He slid out of the booth behind you, and you obliged when he helped you slip your coat on, pulling your hair out from underneath the collar for you.

Stepping outside, the wind chill made you shiver as a gust of it swept over you. “Mm. It’s cold” you muttered, hands coming up to wrap around yourself. Azriel chuckled beside you, his hand coming to rest on the small of your back to guide you forward. “If you’d hurry up we wouldn’t have to be out here for long.” He teased, the corner of his mouth raising slightly. You feigned an offended look, softly swatting his chest as you huffed. “I am not -“ you tripped up, heels scuffing on the cobblestone beneath you, “slow”. The line of his smirk only deepened as he watched you, hands coming out to steady you if needed.

You continued walking, Azriel’s arm coming to rest on your shoulders, pulling you tighter into his side. “Am I really a sloppy drunk?” you whispered, your thoughts going back to Rhys’s comment, regret taking over your features. The last thing you wanted to do was inconvenience your friends with your behavior. If it was true, you would probably never touch alcohol again just to keep the burden off of them.

“No. You’re a cute drunk.” He replied, matter of factly. Somehow pulling you closer into him. You smiled at that, an idea flashing in your mind as you stilled, Azriel coming to a quick halt beside you. You quickly turned to face him, gaze gleaming in excitement as you spoke, “We should prank them!”. “Prank them how?” he whispered, his gaze burning into yours, an unreadable look on his face. You felt your cheeks tint at the intensity, before muttering, “Nevermind. I think I’m too scared of Cass’s retaliation to do that.” a small giggle escaping you as you pictured Cassian’s revenge.

A small smile took over his mouth as he watched you. Azriel reached up, hands playing with the collar on your coat, fixing it, and whispered “Yeah, I think we might need to get you home for the night. Too cold out here.” his eyes still piercing yours. Staring at his smirk, you slowly reached your arms under his coat, shuffling closer to him, and hugged him. Your hands connecting on his back, the warmth from his coat already soothing you. You sighed, your eyes closing in contentment as your face rested against the hard surface of his chest.

His arms slowly came up behind you, one hand softly resting against the back of your head, the other wrapping around your shoulders protectively. His head dipped slightly, and a chill went through you as you felt his breath fan through your hair in a long exhale. You could almost feel the tension leaving his body, the thought of you soothing him as much as he did you making your heart jump in your chest. You slowly pulled away, eyes heavy as you looked up at him and whispered, “Thanks for always taking care of me Azzie.”.

He studied your face for a long moment, a sly grin slowly spreading over his face before quickly leaning down and grabbing you. You squealed as he lifted you, tucking you into his chest as he hauled you up, bridal style. Before you could protest, he shot off the ground, wings flapping as he soared into the night sky. “Hey!” you gasped, turning to face him with a faked anger. He only looked forward, the corner of his lip slightly raised as he muttered “You were taking too long. Gonna get sick.”. You only rolled your eyes, deciding to just lay your head in the crook of his neck for the remainder of the flight. Whether the fluttering in your stomach was from the alcohol consumption mixed with sudden movement, or your close proximity to the shadowboy, wasn’t decided.

“Hey.” you stirred, a soft groan leaving your lips as you felt movement underneath you. “We’re home.” sounded from above you in a soft whisper, causing you to slowly flutter your eyes open to take in your surroundings. You were still in Azriel’s arms, standing in the kitchen of the house of wind. You sighed, slowly slipping out of his grasp, your feet taking a second to solidify your stance. Damned heels. His hands stayed on you as you stood, one of them slowly taking yours as he pulled you towards the table. He pulled out a chair, ushering you into it before walking towards the cabinets. Your eyes were slowly drifting shut when a movement in front of you jolted you back up.

Azriel slipped a mug of tea in front of you, right next to a sandwich. You smiled shyly, reaching forward and taking the warm glass into your hands. “You didn’t have to make me tea.” slipped past your lips over the lip of the cup, sighing in delight at the warmth passing through your body. “I wanted to.” comes from your left, eyes locking on Azriel sitting in a chair diagonal from you. You slowly reached down, grabbing the sandwich before you split it in two, holding a half out to Azriel as you demanded “You eat too.” . You could tell he was about to deny you, quickly shooting out your bottom lip, puppy dogging him. A sigh escaped him, his hand reaching out to take the half-sandwich from you.

After your cup was emptied, you stood. You gathered the used dishes in your hands, heading towards the sink. Once you got there, you gently rinsed off the dishes, humming softly to yourself. You stilled when you felt a presence behind you, Azriel’s chest slowly pushing into your back, your head just below his collar. You glanced over your shoulder, heart fluttering, as you took in Azriel reaching for something over your head. His body pressing into yours immediately had you wide awake, continuing on the dishes even though you were pretty sure you had washed the plate already. He slowly retreated, and you turned around, looking at him in question. “Take this.” he murmured, holding out a small capsule of something in his hand. “What is it?” you questioned, already reaching out to grab it before you even knew what it was.

“It’s supposed to help with headaches.” he inquired. “Madja made them for me.” He added on softly at the end. You knew he suffered from nightmares a lot, sometimes even hearing his pained yells from down the hall, but you didn’t know it was bad enough to need medication for it. You nodded, sadness etching its way onto your face as he dropped it into your hand, a glass of water appearing in your other one. The house of wind really did have perfect intuition. After you gulped down the capsule, you finished off the water before placing that glass in the sink as well, turning back around to find Azriel standing in the same spot.

“Woah. Why the sad face?” he asked, taking half a step closer to you. “It’s nothing.” you lied, not making eye contact with the male to try and hide the emotion in your gaze. “Come on (Y/N/N). I know you better than that.” he pushed, moving closer to grab your chin and raise your gaze to his own. “I’m just tired, Az.” You deflected, actually yawning for real afterwards, thanking the cauldron that it made you somewhat believable. He nodded, slowly pushing you forward, his front pressing into your back as he lead you up the stairs. He kept guiding you into your room, you immediately throwing yourself onto the bed, your eyes too heavy to fight against.

You slowly sat back up as you felt a soft graze against your ankle, blinking down at Azriel gently unclasping your heel. Something pulsed in your lower belly as you took in the sight of Azriel on his knees before you, pushing the thought away as quickly as it came before he sensed the shift in you. He moved onto the next one, collecting your heels in his hand before standing. He deposited them onto your shoe rack, steering towards your dresser. He didn’t even have to ask as he opened the third drawer from the top, pulling out one of his donated black t-shirts that you adored, closing the drawer back and coming back towards you. You stood as he approached, and he tapped his knuckle against your wrist, muttering an “arms up.” as you obliged.

He deposited the shirt over your head, turning you around so he could pull your hair from that too. He let you take over as you shimmied out of your mini dress underneath, letting it drop to the floor in a soft thud. He bent down to grab it, you lifting your feet one by one to help him, hands bracing on his shoulders. He tossed it across the room into your hamper before he headed to your bathroom. He had seen you enough times in the middle of the night to know that a big tshirt was what you preferred to sleep in, definitely not noticing the way you failed to wear any pants a lot of the time.

When Azriel returned, you were back to sitting on the edge of the bed, his tall frame coming to stand between your legs like it was muscle memory. You raised your head up, shutting your eyes as he gently started wiping the makeup off of your face. When you thought he was finished, you fluttered your eyes open, gasping when you saw him staring down at you, the wipe halfway lowered. The hand that was resting under your chin slowly slid down, instead landing on your throat as he gently pushed your head even further back.

You exhaled shakily as his other hand dropped the makeup wipe, coming up slowly to thumb at your bottom lip. He kept his gaze on you, a fire in his eyes you didn’t miss as he pulled your lip down, his jaw clenching. You didn’t even realize you were panting softly until you felt the hand on your neck start sliding upwards, it instead wrapping around the back of your neck and lacing into your hair. The warm faelight casted a glow against your face, hopefully blocking out the blush on your cheeks at the intensity.

Without thinking, you slowly let your gaze drop to Azriel’s lips as his tongue darted out to wet them. You felt your own mouth doing the same, almost copying him, before you looked back up into his eyes, his gaze considerably darker. Azriel slowly pulled, raising you to your feet as he stepped even closer to you. Your heart short circuited at the feeling, your hands instinctively reaching out to rest on his chest, his hands still holding your head. His hand continued its firm grip in your hair, your neck still craning back to look at him. You instinctively licked your lips again at the sudden dryness, and watched as Azriel’s gaze flew down to your mouth.

He inhaled a rough breath, almost growling, as he rushed out a “Please don’t hate me for this.” and pulled you to him, landing his mouth on yours. It happened so quickly, you took a beat to realize what was happening. When you did, your eyes softly fluttered closed, your hands gripping into his shirt. You could hear your heart beat in your ears, feel a burning in your chest, smell the misty wooden scent coming from him. His shadows swirled around you, tickling your legs and back in their haste. He slowly started working his lips against yours, and you reciprocated the action. You let out a whine at the teasingly slow movement, needing something to happen. He groaned, pulling away for a millisecond before coming back in, the kiss a million times more heated than before. You felt yourself move up onto your toes, your hands wrapping around his neck to bury in his hair.

The fight for dominance didn’t last long, Azriel quickly taking over the make-out session after your weak attempt. Hand still in your hair, the other on the base of your throat, he started walking you backwards toward the wall. You felt the cool wood on your back, arching slightly at the shocking cold against your skin. A gasp escaped your lips as Azriel grabbed your leg, hooking it around his waist. After that one was secure, he grabbed the other, lifting you completely into his hold. He moved down to work on your neck, your breath hitching with how needy you were. You moaned when Azriel’s lips found the soft spot below your ear, his tongue working over the spot before he gently nipped at it. You pulled at his hair, earning a soft growl from him as you whined “Please, Azriel.”. He moaned at the sound of his name, his head thrown back, throat working against the noise. He dropped his gaze back to you, his raspy voice coming out low, “Please what, baby?”

You pulled him back down to you, your lips finding his once more, your hips instinctively writhing as you searched for something, anything to relieve the knot in your belly. A whine left your lips at his words, and you clutched even harder into his hair, one hand dropping to dig your nails in his shoulder. At the feeling of your heat grazing the front of his pants, he bucked his own hips up into you, a small whine escaping his lips as well. You gasped, eyes rolling back and head dropping against the wall at the feeling. He thrusted into you again, the feeling of his bulge grazing against your core making the world disappear around you.

Suddenly, you were ripped from the wall, instead being deposited on the bed in a breath. Azriel stared down at you, his wings expanding slightly behind him as he took you in. Your body shook with anticipation as he slowly started stalking towards you, his hands pulling his shirt over his head, discarding it onto the floor.

Suddenly, you realized that the soft and shy Azriel was gone… and this Azriel was going to ruin you.

Part 2?

#azriel x reader #fluff #comfort #azriel #acotar

[charmercharm3r]

Investments

LFX

Masterlist

wc: 2.3k

Requested

Synopsis: Felix thinks a flashy coat will make him more intimidating.

warnings: smut, explicit sexual content, softdom!Felix, fem!reader, not really mafia but he's definitely a criminal lolll, money laundering?, oral (f), porn w no plot lol, piv, cream pie

“Don’t you think it’s a bit… excessive?”

The fluffy, exaggerated red pelt that covered his shoulders looked almost too heavy for Felix’s slim frame. Though, it suited him well.

“Not at all. If anything, I don’t think it’s excessive enough. I want everyone to know who’s in charge.” Felix adjusted the collar in the mirror and slicked the right side of his pretty blonde hair back.

“You’re already hard to miss as it is, babe.” You stood from your spot on the bed, making your way behind him and placing your hand over his to get him to face you. Up close, you could see how well the bright red color brought out his skin tone, freckles lining his nose and upper cheeks in a kind facade. Felix gazed down at you sweetly as you reached up to fix the collar yourself, “however, you look hot in red.”

A sly smirk spread across his face, “you think so? Hm, then perhaps this is the perfect thing to wear to the office today.” Leaning in and cupping your cheeks, Felix placed a quick peck to your forehead. “Join me?”

You knew what he did for work wasn’t necessarily… legal, and that it was incredibly dangerous. But Felix assured you time after time that the fear of getting caught wasn’t even on his radar and that he had protection plans in place. That was something you didn’t question further as it probably wasn’t something you should know for your own sanity. Hell, you probably should’ve ran in the opposite direction when he told you what his job was. But for some reason, you just couldn’t.

The warehouse was so far off the map that after all this time together, you still got confused every time you went. But Felix’s hand in yours as his other gripped the steering wheel was comfort enough that the two of you weren’t lost despite not having seen a single building for the past twenty minutes. The enormous coat was discarded in the backseat, leaving your long term boyfriend in just a gray tank top and matching red pants, and to say you wanted to jump his bones would’ve been an understatement. He knew how much you adored his body, even more when there was just a thin barrier between you and his skin. It was like he dressed this way knowing you couldn’t say no to spending more time with him, even if it was at his scary, illegal job.

There were no other cars in the lot as the two of you pulled up, but a single text message and the garage doors of the old warehouse opened up and Felix entered. Ominous as always, you got chills as the dark interior shadowed your car before your eyes adjusted to the dim light. Large machines were lined up in the middle, rows of people wearing gloves and handling the product with tongs and tweezers working away at them doing god knows what. If Felix had told you what he did for a living before bringing you here to witness the stacks of washing machines and dryers tumbling loads of green paper, you would’ve laughed in his face. How could such a charming and sweet person as he is, be involved in money laundering? Let alone, running the entire thing?

Felix didn’t let you dwindle on the recollection too long, putting the car in park and strutting to your side to open the door. You gave him a gentle kiss on the lips as he crowded your view of the working floor, he never did like you looking too closely, not that you were complaining. The less you knew, the better.

You stepped out of the vehicle and opened the back passenger door to grab his obnoxiously large coat, draping it over his shoulders to take his hand as he led you towards his office.

“On track today?” Felix called out to the person at the end of the pathway overlooking the floor.

“Hello Sir, greetings Missus. Ahead of the game today, actually. You were right, new machines were worth the investment. What a… wonderful coat,” the goon gave a quick bow and kept his head low as you and Felix got closer.

“I always am. And thank you,” your boyfriend said lowly, patting the worker on the shoulder when the pair of you passed him and entered his office.

Only once finally in the confines of his private room and locking the door behind him did Felix let out a quivering sigh. Though, you didn’t ask why. He knew you were there to lend an ear if he decided he needed the support. His work was a touchy subject, you didn’t want to add to his already heavy burden by pestering him. However, it seemed he was in a chatty mood.

“I hate that guy,” Felix admitted, coming in close and hugging you from behind with his back to the shaded window that overlooked the work floor.

You melted into the warmth of his chest and coziness of the fluffy red coat, “why?”

“He’s scared of me. I don’t like people who are scared of me. I’m not scary, am I, sweetheart?” He hid his face in the crook of your neck and lowered his voice to rumble against your skin.

“Not in the slightest. But I decided that before I knew you were a crime lord.” Felix laughed deeply and spun you around, taking your cheeks in his hands again.

“So you’re not even the slightest bit afraid?” He was smirking that stupidly attractive smirk and tilting his head so catlike.

You shivered, but not from his words so much as the way he was looking at you, that same glimmer of mischief in his eyes that you knew so well. You shook your head, no, “should I be afraid?”

Felix sucked in a deep breath before letting it out and coming in close to your face. You could feel his warm breath against your lips, grazing your own but not quite touching, though you wished he would. Years together and you still feel the electric shock whenever he so much as looks your way. “You don’t have to be,” he whispered and paused as your breath caught in your throat. “But everyone else should.”

He crashed into you with force so strong that you stumbled back until your ass hit the desk. Felix immediately drew your dress high on your hips and lifted you on to it without breaking the kiss, roaming his hands up and down your body while you laced your fingers in his hair. You struggled to breath at the sheer intensity at which he ravaged your mouth, tongues and spit mixing and echoing throughout the thin walled room. You silently thanked the heavens that the blinds were closed, it wasn’t particularly high up on your to-do list to be watched by all of his employees.

Nipping lightly at your neck then falling to his knees in front of you, Felix dragged your underwear just below your knees and ducked under them to toss your legs over his shoulders and spread them wide. He dove in without hesitation to lick a fat strip up the center of your core and have you whine out in sudden stimulation. As if he didn’t have you last night as well, he suckled and slurped and tongued at you like a hungry dog, no interest in stopping or slowing down. Felix was especially good with his lips, plump and thick cupping around your bundle of nerves so nicely as you clenched around nothing, eventually enticing your first orgasm out of you from his mouth alone. You squeezed his head between your legs and knocked away whatever was on his desk as you leaned back to keep from falling over, calling out his name with a high pitched cry.

He huffed and puffed for air when you finally released him, already pulling his pants down and clearing the desk behind you entirely so you could lay back. Felix guided your knees around his torso and lazily pumped himself a few times before swiping his red tip at your wetness. Between the delirious satisfaction you felt and the similarity of the color of the coat and the head of his cock, you couldn’t suppress the giggle leaving your mouth. “Oh no,” you hummed, “such a big, scary villain! What are you gonna do to me?” The feigned fear made him grin down at you and pull the top of your dress as far down as it’d go. In the process, he got a little too excited and ripped the seam down the front and side of the dress.

“Gonna make you scream my name, pretty baby. Gonna make sure everyone out there knows who you belong to.” He swiped the tip across your sensitive clit, making you whine a little more, but feel even more desperate for his touch. You pulled him down by the collar of the coat for a heavy, heated kiss, Felix falling and catching himself with both hands on either side of your head. Amidst the saliva being swapped he managed to blindly fumble to find your entrance and push in, both you moaning into one another's mouths.

The stretch was dizzying, you dug your heels into his back to reach further into your deepest parts and nudge the sweet spot. The coat was proving to be rather practical, making a wonderful harness of sorts for you to hold on to just because you wanted him to stay close.

Felix moved his hips slowly at first, working you up and letting you have your way for a few moments longer. But he was growing too desperate, unable to hold back now that he was buried in your warm, wet, pulsing walls. He placed a few more loving kisses to your lips knowing nothing he was doing to you was anywhere near appropriate for work. Not that he cared, he’s the boss, he can do whatever the fuck he wants.

Including fucking you senseless for everyone to hear.

He stood up again and let your hands keep hold of the hem of his fluffy red coat, big enough to cover your body if anyone decided to come wandering in. Felix brought his thumb to your mouth and pushed in, letting your saliva coat the digit to and bring it back down to your clit, rubbing slow, perfectly practiced figure eights into it. You convulsed tighter around his cock, slick sounds filling the room and he was hardly even moving. Though, as his pace picked up, the wetness was overtaken by skin on skin and the creaking of the wooden desk beneath you. Deep grunts accompanied your wails of pleasure as his thumb failed to cease its assault to your nerves and make you feel trapped in a whirlwind of bliss. His smell surrounded you and made it hard to breathe, his skin was so warm and he sounded so pretty, you couldn’t focus on anything except him, him, him.

“C’mon baby, where are your manners? It’s polite to praise whoever is doing you a service,” Felix’s voice seemed to have dropped into octaves you didn’t think was possible despite knowing you’d heard it hundreds of times. He never failed to amaze you.

“Fuck– more, baby, please. So sexy, so good, so big– ahh!” His pace picked up exponentially, short and quick ruts into your cunt instead of long strides to hit your g-spot at a consistent pace. Eyes rolling back, you could feel the knot in your belly tightening every time his pelvis hit yours, every delicious rub against your clit, he knew exactly how to make you melt.

“Say my name,” he demanded, his lower lip finding its way between his teeth and brow furrowing in concentration.

“Li– fuck– Lix, baby, god–”

“Again,” a not light, but not too rough of a slap he sent to your ass, causing your hips to buck into his hand.

“Baby, please! Gonna–”

“Say. My. Name,” each word menacingly punctuated in between thrusts.

“Fuck– F– Felix!”

The cry must’ve reached the logical part of his brain and allowed mercy, “shit– cum, sweetheart.”

He fucked you through your orgasm, letting both his hands grip your waist and take advantage of the erratic movement of your walls, quick staccato’d thrusts into you that prolonged the high. Once the light faded from the back of your eyelids, you were able to coerce your boyfriend into his own bliss, “fill me up, baby. Show everyone, who do I belong to?”

Felix’s head fell back as he sunk into you and let the groan rumble from within his chest, seed coating your walls and milking him dry. His hips twitched as he attempted to come back to earth and regained his breath. Slowly his head rolled back around to look down at you with the largest smile, “you should come to work with me more often.”

“I don’t think your employees would appreciate me taking up all your time,” you could only manage to whisper seeing as your throat was dry and sore.

“Doesn’t matter what they think. They work for me, I’m in charge.” Felix bent over and kissed you, soft and sweet, the same way you knew him to be. You hummed against his lips, “mhm.” 

He pulled out shortly after a few more moments of reassuring smooches, maneuvering to step aside and pull your panties back up while readjusting your dress. Felix laughed at the state of you while he fixed himself up as well, patting down your messy hair and gesturing at your smudged lipstick.

Thumb to your lips, there was a knock at the door. Felix yelled, “come in,” to reveal the same worker from earlier.

“Sorry to…” the employee looked at you then at his boss, “...interrupt. But Mr. Bang is here to collect.” Your boyfriend merely nodded his head and the goon disappeared again.

Felix turned to you, taking you in his arms again for a tight embrace and chaste pecks to your cheek. “Sorry, sweetheart. Time for business.”

-

tags: @sensitiveandhungry @babebatter @changbinluvr @epiphanynaffit @fawnpeaks @linovely @dumplinbokkieracha @finnydraws @naturules @djeniryuu @hamburgers101 @skzhomiehopper @yesv01 @hyunjinsamdl @dazzlingligth @lvrhyuka @alexis-reads-fics @linaliskz @0002linoskitten @chillichillicrabcrab23 @zerefdragn33l @straycrescent @binnies-donuts @soldierstangirl-blog @bakedlilgoonie @levanterlily @shelbyyy44 @yeetmehome @in2heartz @astroodledream @the-sweetest-rose @leebitsimpracha @lilbugs-things @viviennenstan @staurdvst @alex--awesome--22 @imzenning @jeyelleohe @kaitchan @iadorethemskz

#stray kids #stray kids smut #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids angst #stray kids fluff #stray kids felix #stray kids mafia au #lee felix #lee Felix smut #Felix smut #Felix fluff #Felix angst #lee Felix fluff #lee Felix angst #Felix x reader #Felix x yn #Felix x y/n #Felix x you #lee Felix x reader #lee Felix x yn #lee Felix y/n #lee Felix x you #skz #skz felix #skz smut #skz fluff #skz angst #skz mafia au

[littlejuicebox]

Dancing on my own

Guys I don’t know what this is, it’s just some random angsty drabble that came out inspired by the song “Dancing on My Own” by Robyn (the version by Calum Scott is also nice).

I’m trying to get out of a writing slump so there might be a few more random bits of writing here and there. I’m not sure I even like this tbh lol.

Summary: You and Astarion decided to be just friends after his Moonrise Towers confession. He couldn’t make himself admit to you that he wanted more than that. He knew you deserved better than what he could offer. Now that his quest with Cazador is done, he’s totally lost. He wants you, but you have someone else now; he thinks it’s someone better than him. He’s heartbroken.

Tags/Warnings: PG13, lots of angst, depression, PTSD, low self esteem, depersonalization/derealization, sad Astarion, tbh it’s kinda just a sad bit of drabble

Astarion killed Cazador. You’d think he would’ve been happy… ecstatic, even. But instead he felt exceedingly numb and so, so tired.

It had been nearly a week since then. Astarion had spent most of that time in his room, trancing or simply just lying in the dark. He was exhausted; his limbs felt like lead.

Shadowheart was concerned he had fallen ill and kept checking on him. He would simply grunt to her in response or ignore her line of questioning until she sighed and left.

You came by a few times a day to offer him your wrist; he would drink with a misty-eyed, faraway expression… or sometimes not at all. His hand would linger for a moment on yours, and then he would roll himself the other direction, turning away from you.

It was hard to look at you, to be that close to you, to touch you, to taste you. Blood and sex had been so intertwined in the beginning, it always brought back the memories from before. It made him sick to his stomach.

But his hunger often won, in the end.

How ironic, that the only blood which satisfies his near-insatiable thirst is also the only blood that makes his stomach churn with guilt and disgust at himself.

A double edged sword. Stabbed through his heart.

He should be happy… ecstatic, even. But, by the gods, is he so, so tired. Can a vampire rot into the earth if they stay in one place for too long?

Perhaps. Perhaps he should get up and move, if only to avoid rotting away.

Astarion manages to take a short bath and pull himself together… somewhat. It’s hard to move when your limbs feel like lead. His shirt is wrinkled, and his hair feels like it’s not quite in place, but it will have to do.

The pale elf slinks down to the tavern, where the evening crowd is teetering the hazy line between buzzed and drunk. He’s not in much of a mood for talking to others, so he sits in a corner booth, hoping the natural shadows and his brooding demeanor will deter any visitors. For a few moments he feels normal… or at least acts it. But then he sees you. And Halsin.

Halsin has his arms coiled around you as he absolutely ravages your lips. His thick hands are gripping your body; one hand on your waist, one on your neck. It’s an exceptional amount of PDA; he would vomit, if he had anything left in his stomach from the only small sip he’d taken from you this morning. The hand the druid tenderly placed on your neck is covering the scars Astarion had marked on you from the times before, back when you’d been his. Had you been his? Back before—

“I had a plan. A nice, simple plan…”

“Maybe what you need is a friend, not a lover.”

Astarion had hurt you. He’d hurt you. The look that crossed your face as he confessed is etched into his mind for all eternity; it’s the first thing he sees when he wakes from a trance and the last thing he sees before he slips into one. He’ll never forget the tears that welled in your eyes, which you’d rapidly blinked away. And then you thanked him… thanked him for telling you, for being truthful. Thanked him for hurting you.

He should have lied. He shouldn’t have said anything. He should have chose differently from the start.

He knew what he did was terrible; you deserved something more, something real. He just couldn’t be that. He didn’t know how to be… real.

Hells, was he even real now? Was any of this real?

He felt like a shell. Hollow. Empty. It all felt like a sick, strange dream that he couldn’t wake from. All that time he spent running, and now he no longer had to… but who was he, if not a runner?

He’d run from Cazador. Run from you. Run from the concept of true intimacy, which you had so willingly offered.

But now? Now he wanted nothing more than to run to you. He wanted to run into your arms and be held by you, comforted by you. But there you were in the arms of someone who was able to give you what you deserved.

Who was he to get in the way of that? He was nothing. He was no one.

“Good to see you out of bed.”

The vampire rips his eyes away from you and Halsin, where the two of you seem oblivious to the world and stuck in a heated embrace.

Shadowheart is standing next to the booth; her eyes had followed his, and she’d been watching the same passionate makeout scene with mild interest.

She flicks her gaze back to Astarion with a knowing look, and a soft, sad smile crosses her face. The cleric extends her hand out to him, “Come on, Astarion. One dance and then I will let you slink back into this corner to sulk for the rest of the night, if you wish.”

He sighs and considers the offer. He doesn’t want to move, but he can’t keep picking different places to stay and rot. And he can’t keep watching you two. His limbs still feel like lead.

“Very well.” He murmurs, and he takes Shadowheart’s hand.

They dance. It’s a platonic sort of jig, mostly spinning around at arms length with one another. For a moment, Astarion feels a brief glimmer of happiness. He chuckles and smiles; his limbs don’t feel like lead. And then the tune ends, and he’s wandering back to the booth with Shadowheart, and that sinking feeling begins to grow in his chest once more.

“You should talk to them, you know, Astarion. Let them know how you feel. They may choose differently… if you make your true desires known. You did tell them you wanted to be friends, after all.” The cleric murmurs, with another sad little smile. Her eyes contain pity; he hates that.

He’s watching you and Halsin again, where you two are staring contentedly at one another, chatting away. You’re lost in your own little impenetrable bubble. You don’t even see him or notice him at all.

He’s nothing. He’s no one.

Astarion looks so dejected; normally he would be better at putting on his mask. But he’s so tired. He should be happy. But he’s exhausted.

“Maybe I should. But Tav looks happy… I can’t bring myself to ruin that. Selfish as I am, I do care about them, you know.”

Shadowheart nods and sighs. She knows something, he can tell by the look on her face. She wants to say more but decides against it. A small pat on the vampire’s hand and she murmurs, “Good night, Astarion. I hope to see you down here in the morning.”

Then she’s gone, heading upstairs to her room. And he’s alone again.

Astarion watches you two for a bit longer, even though every second he witnesses causes another crack in his fragile heart. Then his eyes return to the dance floor and he sighs before forcing himself out of the booth again. His limbs feel like lead, but he has to start somewhere.

For now, he’ll have to keep dancing on his own.

#astarion x tav #baulders gate 3 #baulders gate astarion #astarion fanfic #astarion fic #bg3 fanfiction #baulders gate tav #bg3 fanfic idea #astarion x reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x you #astarion x gn!tav #astarion angst #light angst #angsty

[rorichuu]

raaah! i love your acc layout /gen omg >:O !!

anyway, if it’s not too much to ask for could i request sniper x fem(or gn) reader who’s basically miss paulings assistant? (lol the asisstants-asisstant), like miss pauling is out of work one day and reader takes her place ^^

thanks sm! it can be hc’s, or a fic or like, whatever u want basically cuz i think it’s a pretty complicated req :’) it’s 100% okay if you can’t complete the req/don’t feel comfortable doing so :D

close eye — sniper x assistant!reader

pairing: sniper x fem!reader

authors note: omg hello! and thank you so much! :D this is such a fun request, i seriously loved writing this! also omg this might be a bit jumbled cuz it's 2:51 AM heheh so please bear with me :) — thank you for the request, friend!

disclaimer: none besides the use of sniper's real name (mick, mundy, etc.)! enjoy!

when you were introduced by miss pauling right before she had to leave was pretty brief.

she's a busy woman! and you accepted the temporary position happily!

but as you greeted everyone, one man stayed behind; observing.

as curious as you were, you tried to advance, but was sorely interrupted by a chatty scout.

as politely as you could, you tried to pry from the conversation, only to find the tall new zealander to be far gone.

with a defeated huff, you began the day as you previously intended.

honestly, this man is kinda nervous around you in some sorts.

he probably hasn't interacted with a woman outside of miss pauling (merely because of his job, he's obviously greeted women before)

but as much as he had thought of coming up to you, he always kinda of scurried away before you could catch sight of him

a little nervous and very skeptical...

.

.

.

The horrid sun beat down on your skin as you frustratingly looked through the papers clipped on Miss Pauling's board. You were biting your lip in concentration to finally catch what you were looking for. "Aha!" You exclaim in victory. You look up, eyes immediately squinting at your forgetfulness. You held the clipboard with one hand as the other lifted to your forehead to dismiss the sun the best you could, to finally catch sight of Sniper's van. "Can't hide from me..." You whisper to yourself before you march over.

You come to a stop at the van door, lifting your hand to raise a loud knocking sound to catch his attention. You waited patiently before hearing the sound of his boots hitting against the paved wood. You were then greeted by the man's presence. His eyebrows furrowed, lips forming a thin line in observation of your awaiting figure. His red sleeves were rolled up, one hand on the door handle, the other on the door frame. Sniper leaned out, his figure shadowing yours as he waited expectantly. "Yes?" His voice spoke low, informing you he had possibly just woken up from a nap.

You caught yourself staring, cheeks flushed red at his ruffled hair and button-down shirt. (Although, it could very well be the heat...) You clear your throat. "Yes! I know we haven't properly met... but I have a job that requires you," You said, noticing the man sending you a curt nod. "Uhm, right. And, of course, these are all confirmed by Miss Pauling! I'm simply her messenger and advisor for the day." You happily said, lifting the mood as the man took in your words. With a small acknowledged hum, his arm begun to pull back; and the door then closed.

"Sure, mate." Bam.

? ? ?

"What?" You muttered out, stepping back a bit before looking around rapidly. What just happened!? "M-Mr. Mundy! I haven't even explained what the job pertains to!" You tried to reason, but as time slowly started to slip by, he gave you zero sign that he was interested.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀. 3 hours after y/n's introductions .

Sniper held his gun close as he observed you quietly. With one eye shut and the other following you.

Sniper was admittedly suspicious.

Of course, Miss Pauling had directly introduced you to everyone... but occasions like this were rare. So he did what no other merc even considered doing.

He observed your every move.

Sniper's lip curled in a small scowl, ripping away from his scope as he noticed you chatting away with Medic over some job, he was sure. Now listen, Sniper wasn't trying to find some dirt on you, he was just cautious. He had to be! That's what part of his job entailed! But your bubbly presence made it hard to suspect you. Desperately, he tried to let it go. But he couldn't help but have his mind think about just you.

Why couldn't he stop thinking about you?

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀. the present .

"Mister Mundy, if you don't take this job, Miss Pauling will be quite upset with the both of us! God forbid the administrator gets involved... Ugh, Sniper get out here right now!" Of course, this didn't work. Sniper was snickering in his van as he leaned against his seat near the door. His arms were crossed and one leg lay limp on his knee. Mick wore a cocky smile that left you raising your hand and bickering with a shut door, this was quite entertaining.

You huff, hand resting on the top of your head now as you admit defeat. The sun began to drunken your mind as you swayed slightly, leaning against the vehicle, you began to fan yourself with the clipboard. You just accepted the fact you may get in trouble with this.

... Slowly, time passed, it had been a short minute that Sniper began to grow suspicious of the sudden quietness that lurked outside his door. He then heard a small thump and a sliding noise erupt from beyond the wall he sat against. He began to stand, hand now wrapped against the handle as he leaned outside to find the sun taking it's unruly toll on you. "Mind if I come in?"

"Yeah yeah, don't kill yourself out here, mate..."

While his thick accent invited you in, begrudgingly, you nearly ran inside with how fast you wanted to escape the unforgiving heat. He looked over his shoulder to find you faced directly in front of his fan, watching you slump thankfully against the breeze. He scoffed, grabbing two mugs to start a new coffee pot.

"The job," this had caught your attention immediately. "Tell me about it." With a low rumble of his voice, you found yourself watching his back as he grabbed coffee beans and his small machine... which lay in the back of his remote kitchen. Your eyes lit up in clear relief.

"Mhm, right, of course," You cleared your throat, remaining professional the best you could. "There's obvious suspicion up in Teufort... you and the others are needed to scope the enemy in hopes of eliminating any future advances." You snicker. Sniper turns around.

"Was that... a pun?"

"Perhaps."

"Cripes..." Sniper's lips fall into a small smile, turning back to aid to the coffee before walking back over. "Drink." He replies shortly, hand out while he offers the hot coffee. You take it before he leans back and sits right where he was before. You take it graciously after you thank him.

The van keeps quiet for a while, a comfortable silence as you made some notes and read the rest of Miss Pauling's clipboard. "You done then?" Your ears twitch at the sudden sound, you take a second to respond.

"Pardon?" You turn, facing him as your eyes follow up to his. He's looking down at his mug before maintaining eye-contact with you.

"After this. You're gone?" This time his question is much more clear. You can tell Sniper doesn't like eye contact, keeping his space and eyes wandering. You notice this. You let out a small huff.

"Ah, I'll be outta your hair before you know it." You joke, although your shoulders slump in a saddened way. Sniper looks at you in the corner of his eye before taking another slug of his coffee.

"Bummer..."

"Yes, I know. You'd best be celebrating soon- ... uh, hm?" Your head lifts from your papers to see the man swirling his mug before looking at you.

"I said bummer." He repeats himself before he's left getting another cup. You can feel your cheeks getting red... and you being. Very confused. Your hand twitches, almost losing your pen before regaining your composure. "They need'ja out there, best get goin', mate." He announced before turning around and leaning on his counter, looking at you over his mug. You flush once more.

"Right, I appreciate your time and patience, Sniper," you send a quick smile before brushing down your skirt and handing your mug over. "Thank you for the hospitality." You said quietly, nervous around the Australian. He takes it and nods. “See ya’ around miss.”

Taking that as your sign to leave, the click of your heels are soon echoed and left with a small click of his trailer door. Sniper looks at the handle for a while, anxious to see you again.

You were lovely company.

.

.

.

rorichuu!

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #team fortress #tf2 sniper #tf2 sniper x reader #sniper x reader #tf2 x reader #sniper headcanons #sniper tf2 #sniper fluff #sniper x reader fluff #tf2 mercs #rorichuu!

[uchihaharlot]

Once again, tumblr is holding my drafts hostage. I don’t understand why I can’t edit anything. So screenshot it is! 🤷🏼‍♀️

Now I am scared to even draft on here. 🥲 Probable typos, I’m in line getting tacos 🫠

Anyways, sorry this took so long! I find that during the week I’m not capable of allowing myself the creative freedom to write. Too many stressors!!

This is suuuuuper cute and hilarious to me! Lololol. And some of this might be short because I am actually still tired asf. Sort of tailored this their characteristics — prideful Madara, Submissive Obi, catch me if you can Shisui, and proper Itachi.

SFW; superiority complex Madara; shy Obi; enthralled Shisui; whipped Itachi.

Madara:

Immediately is thrown off center by this girl’s audacious behavior. Did she just spit at him? Ah hell no! Makes it his personal mission to take her down a few pegs. Absolutely does not tolerate a woman with more balls than him. Tries to subdue her, but she is too quick it seems. ‘Another Sharingan wielder, I see.’

Heh. Yeaaa, he is going to pretend like her insubordination or her being almost equally matched isn’t a huge turn on, this girl is just so brazen. She wears male captains livery and it drives him wild to no end wondering what she would look like in his. Madara will not admit any of that though, it would be accepting defeat. Oozes clan pride as she counters his every advance on her. If he was two steps ahead, it felt like she was six.

Obito:

Lol. Why am I like this with him? The second this girl overpowers him he is embarrassingly hard and emotionally stunted. She just gracefully kicked his ass and made a fool out of him! So he is going to avoid her at all costs, watching her from the shadows. Just…waiting to be her personal punching bag again. Lol. Anything to feel her soft hands on him. She is smart, Obi not so much. Catches on to his little game and says, ‘I think you just want me to put you out.’

‘Yes.’ Which is a complete understatement.

Shisui:

Let’s not bullshit here, Shisui was a bit worried when she made to fist him in the dick. He yielded as a last resort, those are incredibly sensitive and precious to him. They hold his next of kin, that and, he memory served him well. That shit fucking hurt. Offers this girl his hand as a truce, and then pulls her in to ask if she would go on a date with him. Heh. Yea, she would. A girl that wasn’t afraid to get a little dirty and even fight a bit unfair was someone he needed to have close. Not make an enemy of, probably almost falls in love with her if she picks some of the gravel off his shirt too.

Itachi:

Oof. Did this girl really tell him to eat shit? That’s the most profane language he’s ever heard out of a woman’s mouth. Itachi is good mannered, a genius and a gentleman. Though some weird feeling in the depths of him has his interests piqued. She didn’t act anything like your average kunoichi. Enjoyed pushing his buttons and Itachi liked the push and pull. Purposely widened the threshold of how far he could play this little cat and mouse game.

#uchiha headcanons #madara headcanons #obito headcanons #shisui headcanons #itachi headcanons #madara uchiha #obito uchiha #shisui uchiha #itachi uchiha #short drabble #uchiha clan #uchiha family

[sleepdeprivedlilbean]

Siggghhhhh I blame @dreemurr-skelememer for this 😒

close ups and info under the cut

Idk what higher power convinced me from 11pm - 5am to just HAVE to draw Dream and Nightmare as horses from mlp (god dammit I’ve never even watched mlp) but HERE WE ARE

I put waaay to much time into these drawings not to color them so once I line them I’ll do that

Hopefully-

Anyway I wasn’t sure how to incorporate Nightmare’s tentacles in this design, buuut here were a couple of things I wanted to do/design choices and why:

I wanted to make them both alicorns with Nightmare having webbed wings (with hints of feathers and trauma)

I decided Nightmare was going to have armor and a royal vibe/aesthetic (like the king he is)

He also has horseshoes with pointed tips and ankle armor and neck armor cause yes.

I wanted to give him even more armor but I thought it would be too much

The cutie marks are their respective apples, but I wanted Nightmare to have, well, a Nightmare Moon thing going on where there was discoloration around the mark (excess of slime in this case)

I did want to incorporate sun and moon elements into the curie marks as well, but I figured I could do it in clothing instead to not overcrowd the cutie mark design and have it lose its meaning.

The slime around Nightmare’s cutie mark is constantly flowing and dripping off of him and if you looked closely his apple may appear purple instead of black through the drips

Ok while I’ve never really watched mlp I don’t live under a rock and I’m aware of how similar Luna and Celestia are to Nightmare and Dream, plus I looked up different designs and species and if you couldn’t tell Nightmare’s HEAVILY Nightmare Moon coded (she also slays btw I love her).

As for ideas about Nightmare’s tentacles I figured maybe he could have a sort of shadow magic maybe??? That acted like his tentacles in a way? Idk I’m workshopping it.

Or he could pull a Rapunzel and have his mane and tail act as his tentacles (which is kinda why his hair looks like that, as I wanted it to look slimy and thick, and for the “tentacles” a bunch of the chords would wrap together to create the tentacle like shape).

Idk mannnn I’m trying but horses and tentacles just don’t really go together juuuust sayin

I actually wasn’t gonna give Dream his cape/shawl thing cause I forgot he had it but I looked at Dream’s ref again and thought it was fitting enough.

Dream’s circlet got turned into a helmet cause I thought it would match Nightmare’s vibe a little more and I wanted to do more than just put it on his head ya know?

I’ve also been seeing designs with Dream having his hair braided and I thought it was fitting so while u can’t really see it, Dreams mane consists of a bunch of thick braids and the nape of his neck he just cut his hair cause otherwise his braids would get tangled in his wings so he said be gone lol. (Nightmare’s tail is also partially braided and I like to think he also braids his mane too into one large braid I just didn’t draw it that way :().

Ok I still have more to say but THIS IS LONG ENOUGH NAHSVAGACA

#nightmare sans #dream sans #dreamtale #kinda??? #i mean they’re horses here sooo #eh i don’t care it’s fine #i wanted to make nightmare have armor and be elegant and royal #then i realized i could make their helmet/face armor stuff their crowns :) #nightmare was a pain but it was worth it #also wasn’t sure about the wings but eh could change later #eh dream looks too plain but idk what else to add before it’s too much #nightmare might be too much :/ #nah he’s slaying 💅 #i also have a habit of drawing nightmare first and then realize his good eye isn’t facing meeee 😩 #it kills me every time

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Seeing all these asks about Geneyen giving bitches backshots/breaking backs then taking off with panties and debit/credit cards makes me want a fic about Geneyen giving backshots taking panties and stealing debit/credit cards lol

Ask and you shall receive.

Fool Me Once - Chapter One

Warnings: Theft, smut. Word count: ~1200

Author's note: No gods, no masters, no tag lists. Only scabs community label fics. If you find yourself tempted to slap a label on this, please block me instead.

Main series masterlist

Genyen awakens, sticky with sweat, an acrid taste in his mouth and a hangover lingering behind his eyes. He silently curses himself for not splurging the extra cash for a place with air conditioning, not that’d be sticking around long enough to appreciate it, but the humidity here is unbearable.

He fled to Thailand after clearing out the donations from the Buddhist centre, along with Jinba’s bank account. He has kept moving since arriving, never staying in one place for more than a week, it’s too risky to settle anywhere when he makes a living from robbing pretty, gullible tourists.

His grifting has taken him to Krabi, Pattaya City and Ko Pha Ngan. This week he finds himself in Pa Tong. No matter the city or district, the situation always plays out the same way; he dons his Buddhist monk robes, heads to the nearest beach and spins a pretty girl a line about how he’s left the monastery because he wants to experience a day in the life of a tourist. By nightfall he’s spilling himself into a condom inside of her, then rifling through her purse once she’s asleep.

He has no idea what possessed him to start tearing the ID pages from their passports. The first time it happened he’d found it as he’d rummaged through her handbag. He’d flipped to the back, curiosity leading him to want to look at her photo. Before he had time to think fully about what he was doing, he’d ripped it out, pocketing it along with her knickers and all the cash she had.

He has quite the collection now. He rolls over in the bed, draping a long, lean arm down the side to rifle through his duffel bag. Underwear of all colours, cuts and sizes is stuffed inside. He thumbs through the stack of ID pages; Sweden, Australia, South Africa, Canada.

Would be cool to have one for every country, he thinks to himself.

He pushes the passport pages and panties to the side, plucking out the wad of banknotes rolled up beside them and counts through it. Shit. Less than two thousand baht left. He’s only been in Pa Tong a few days, but partying all night, every night burns through money fast. He’s going to need to find another target today, or he’ll run out of cash.

After dragging himself out of bed, chasing painkillers with the dregs of the previous evening’s final beer, and showering, Genyen finds himself strolling the perimeter of Pa Tong beach. He is glad that his robes are relatively lightweight, the heat of the sun feels oppressive. He shields his eyes from the blinding rays, surveying the hordes of people soaking up the Thai heat.

That’s when he spots her. His eyes are immediately drawn to the curve of her arse, peeking out from a tiny pair of bikini bottoms as she lays face down. She’s immersed in a copy of The Secret. Oh, this is fucking perfect. 

He saunters over to her and she immediately looks up as his shadow is cast over her. He smiles as her eyes widen in surprise.

“I’m sorry, I don’t have any cash on me if you’re looking for donations.” She smiles sweetly at him.

“Oh, I’m not here on behalf of Wat Suwan Khiri Wong. I’m actually trying to get away from that.”

“Really? And why is that?” She asks curiously, closing her book.

He settles cross legged on the sand in front of her. “I’ve dedicated my whole life to the monastery and practicing the teachings of Buddha. I’d like to know what life has to offer outside of that. I’m Genyen, by the way.”

“Genyen.” She repeats, eyeing him curiously. “Makes you sound important.”

He laughs softly. “It’s nice to be important, but it’s more important to be nice. You can call me Shawn, if you’d prefer.”

He spins her his entire lie and she falls for it. He tells her his mum passed away when he was ten, that his dad married a woman called Mary and when his dad then passed away just before Shawn was due to go to university, Mary had contested the will. She’d gotten everything, the house included. He went away to university, but had nowhere to go once he graduated, so he went travelling and ended up here, in Thailand. He was taken in by the Buddhist monks and renamed Genyen, which means ‘approaching virtue’.

She pays rapt attention, her face softening in sympathy for him, and by the evening they sit in a beach bar together, their knees brushing as she sips a strawberry daiquiri.

“So if you want to experience life outside of the monastery, why aren’t you drinking?” She says, playing with her staw.

“Better to take these things slowly, just talking to you today was a big enough step.” He lies. He knows better than to get buzzed. Drunkenness leads to sloppy mistakes.

He barely has to make an effort. Two more cocktails and her eyes are glazed as she leans in to kiss him. Her lips taste like rum and he kisses her back hungrily.

He follows eagerly when she leads him back to her hotel room. They make quick work of undressing each other. His eyes dart around the room, making a note of where she discards her bag.

It’s not long before she’s on all fours, his hands kneading the fleshy globes of her backside that he’d spent most of the afternoon admiring, as he snaps his hips against her. She clenches around him, warm and oh so tight. He can feel how soaked she is even while wearing a johnny and the sensation causes him to groan as he speeds up his movements.

She moans, arching her back, pushing against him and he slides a hand up the smooth skin of her back, grabbing a fistful of her hair, biting his lip at how this makes her squeeze him harder. She may be a dupable airhead who stupidly believes in the power of manifestation, but she is undoubtedly one of the best lays he’s ever had.

He isn’t sure if she comes, he doesn’t care. His grip on her hips is vicelike as gives one final thrust, shuddering as he pulsates and spends himself into the latex.

It doesn’t take long for her to fall asleep. He lays there, waiting for the sound of her breathing to deepen and even out. Once she starts to snore softly, he creeps out of the bed. He dresses before looking through the handbag he’d seen her drop to the floor earlier. He pulls all of the banknotes from her purse, pocketing them. No cash on you? Bloody liar.

Her passport sits on the vanity table and he grabs it, flipping to the back page. He smiles as he looks at her photo, illuminated by the moonlight that streams through the window. She looks so dorky, it’s actually kind of cute. He almost feels bad for robbing her.

He tears the page out, wrapping it in her discarding bikini bottoms, then pockets those as well.

Slipping out of her room, he lets the door click softly closed behind him, walking out into the balmy night air of Pa Tong. He was going to miss her. Well, he’d miss her air conditioning, that’s for sure.

#genyen #genyen doctors #ewan mitchell #genyen x reader #genyen smut #genyen fan fiction #genyen fanfiction #genyen fanfic #genyen fan fic

[ihavemanyhusbands]

Santa Comunione

Part I // Hannibal Lecter x Fem!Reader

Also on AO3

Summary: Hannibal Lecter often does things just to see what happens… and seducing a holy woman is one of those things.

WC: 3.9k words

Warnings: MINORS DNI THIS FIC IS 18+, Corruption, Blasphemy (?), Religious Imagery, Italy arc (Rome instead of Florence), Canon divergence, Self-Harm, Some whump, Angst, Eventual smut, religious trauma (i think?), I’m not a religious expert btw tho i grew up Catholic, mentions of wounds and scars, Ofc Hannibal has a God complex, Catholicism, dead dove do not eat, reader is a nun lol, lmk if i missed anything!

A/N: Unsure of why this idea suddenly possessed me but it’s been a real delight to write. As usual, thank you to Stray, G, my wife beelmons for all the help hee hee <3 I do not condone or encourage any of the actions depicted, you’re responsible for your own media consumption.

——————

“Angel of my life… my body, my blood, my soul, are all yours;”

– Victor Hugo, from The Complete Works; “ The Hunchback of Notre Dame,”

——————

It was easy to get lost in menial tasks.

You’d mastered the ability to slip into your thoughts as your hands diligently worked. Whether it was mending clothes, polishing candelabra, or even refilling prayer candles for all the tourists visiting the basilica.

In the summer, it was especially useful in order to manage the larger crowds — A sea of anonymous faces that quickly faded from memory. Bright shining eyes and rapacious hands reaching to touch things they shouldn’t; Always hungry for a taste of something holy. 

The pack of bodies made you anxious, their cloying scent overpowering the all-too-familiar myrrh and incense.  Their shrill, excitable voices could be especially grating in such a place, where echo was ever-present. Even more so after reminding them that a low volume was imperative, for such sacred spaces had to be respected.

It was a true test of your virtues, more often than not. Patience, especially, was one you were still working on, even after so many years. It proved to be the hardest to fully harness, no matter how much self-discipline was employed.

In repentance, you found yourself praying more often than not, the repetition of the words putting you in a meditative state.

Angel of God, my guardian dear, to whom God's love commits me here, ever this day be at my side, to light and guard, to rule and guide…

“Mi scusi?” A deep voice brought you back to the present, much too close for comfort.

Startled, you winced a little and quickly looked up. A tall, well-dressed man stood right in front of you, amusement at your reaction tugging at the corners of his full lips. He was handsome in a way that was reminiscent of Renaissance paintings; Like an aristocrat, or a fallen angel perhaps. 

“Si, signore?” You asked, keeping your voice low.

He gestured towards the candles. “May I?” 

You handed him one, already lit. His fingers just barely ghosted over yours in the exchange, and your breath caught. The small flame cast shadows on his angular face, giving him a more severe look. A bit macabre, too, in a way…

Don’t think such things. He is but a man.

“Grazie,” he said, the smile still not leaving his face.

“Prego.”

You averted your gaze, intent on resuming your work. He stepped to one side, looking over at the statue at the far end of the room — Bernini’s Ecstasy of St. Theresa.

“The pain was so severe that it made me utter several moans,” he recited. “The sweetness caused by this intense pain is so extreme that one cannot possibly wish it to cease, nor is one's soul content with anything but God.”

You followed his line of sight, and before you could stop yourself, you said. “You must see her up close.”

He looked back at you, tilting his head slightly to one side curiously. You tried to keep your eyes on the statue, still beautiful despite endless days of looking at it.

You cleared your throat, continuing almost absently. “There are many proofs of God’s love, but this one might be my favorite. We are most like Him in that through immense agony, we can become holy.”

Your gaze snapped to his, and you stared at each other in slight disbelief for a moment. Just what had compelled you to share such a thing? 

“Are you able to accompany me?” He asked. “I’d be delighted to hear more of your thoughts.”

That made you remember yourself, so you shook your head. “No, signore. Do go on, though. It really is a sight to behold.”

“Very well,” he nodded. “May I ask your name?”

You hesitated, but told him out of politeness. He repeated it slowly, as if savoring it on his tongue. Your traitorous eyes were drawn to the way his lips formed around it, and he didn’t fail to notice. 

Before you could even think of asking for his name in return, an elderly couple came up to you asking questions. You muttered a quick scusi in his direction as your attention shifted, both frustrated and relieved.

He lingered for just a moment longer before continuing on his way, and you forced yourself not to glance back at his retreating form.

Usually, the few brief conversations you had with visitors barely registered in your mind. Seldom did anyone really gain your interest, but on the rare occasion someone did, you had to immediately tamp down any inane desires.

For you, chastity often oscillated between being a cruel companion and a comforting blanket. There were times, in the darkest hour of night, when you couldn’t help but yearn for things you’d long lost. Sensations, images, smells… all vanished from existence.

You had not always walked the path of piety, but the days before you made that change were not ones you let yourself think about any other time. Especially not when those old feelings stirred like ashes in a charred hearth.

Once you were by yourself again, you caught another glimpse of him in the crowd; His long, sturdy frame was hard to miss. He was engrossed in his surroundings  — the gilded architecture, the magnificently carved marble, the myriad scenes of haloed saints soaring through the heavens.

You pulled your rosary out of your pocket, feeling the urge to resume your prayers. The smooth slide of the beads in your palm was usually reassuring, but you were too distracted to even conjure the words.

You squeezed it in your fist, the metal cross digging into your skin. Bright pain ran up your arm as it broke through, a rivulet of blood running through your middle and index fingers.

You released a breath as you relaxed your fist. It was a small penance for a momentary slip, serving also as a reminder of your vows. Pain was the best teacher, after all. It was one of the first things you learned when you converted.

Covertly, you wiped your hand clean with a handkerchief. You stared at the splotch of crimson on the white fabric, slightly entranced by the mundanity of your mortal blood.

Out of your notice, he observed your every move. He wanted to approach once more, to get a whiff of your life’s essence — A sharp note of copper, slightly sweet and endlessly enticing.

But he knew that, like any good hunter who had zeroed in on prey, he had to bide his time.

————

The setting sun streaked the sky in swaths of pastel, orange and violet and pink. The last of its golden rays illuminated the marble floors, setting ablaze the portrait of the praying skeleton.

His eyes lingered on this detail as he silently walked in, his long shadow dragging across it. 

Most of the visitors had left by that time, but a few stragglers lingered for evening prayers. He was delighted to find that one of those stragglers was you, still unaware of his presence.

Your knees were on the worn cushion of the praying kneeler, your clasped hands resting on the bench in front of you. Your eyes were closed, face tilted up slightly in quiet reverence.

He saw the hem of your habit had ridden up a little, revealing a small portion of your calf. Just a sliver of flesh, really, but not one you were conscious of showing. 

Glancing around, he approached slowly, bending down to fix it. You were mid Hail Mary when you felt the fabric being pulled, which made you stumble over the words.

You stiffened, but didn’t move. Instead, you peered from the corner of your eye to see a familiar figure straightening to his full height.

How curious that your prayers seemed to summon him, even if he was not who you called on.

Or was it?

A day had passed and you’d tried as best as you could to banish that whole initial interaction from your thoughts. His lupine features had begun to blur in your mind’s eye, the sound of his voice losing itself in the din of the crowd. What little you slept, you didn’t even dream.

But now that he was back, looming right behind you, you were on edge again. Shakily, you finished the last string of prayers you had left on your rosary. 

Then you did the sign of the cross and rose slowly, turning to face him. Your eyes were darker in the low light, doe-like and fathomless. But there was no naïveté in their depths.

“I hope I didn’t offend you by taking such liberties, Sorella,” he said. 

“Finding me or touching me?” You challenged.

He blinked, stunned at being put on the spot. "I figured you must value your modesty and didn’t wish to see you embarrassed. Forgive me.”

You looked him over, assessing. He seemed sincere, if a little clueless. The look didn’t quite fit him, but you wanted to believe it all the same.

“Thank you,” you said finally, glancing over your shoulder. “Come to see the statue once more? I told you it was striking.”

“Indeed, but not quite here for it,” he admitted. “I was unable to stop thinking of your assessment.”

“Oh, I assure you, I’m not nearly as interesting as you might believe.”

“I beg to differ.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly, and you noticed how quickly the light was waning outside.

“Expecting a private tour, then? It’s rather late for that. Doors are shutting to the public shortly.”

“Perhaps I can help you in some way or another. Think of me as a volunteer.”

You huffed in amusement. “Are you trying to get me in trouble?”

He smiled, gesturing around him. “We have God’s eyes on us here. Nothing to fear.”

Why you were even entertaining this, you weren’t sure. It’d been a while since you’d been intrigued by anyone — anything, really — and being the object of someone’s intrigue felt nicer than you wanted to admit. 

You were surrounded by people all day, but that didn’t make you feel any less lonely. Not that solitude really bothered you… for the most part.

You were only human, after all. Full of faults you were meant to atone for.

“Very well, then. Usually, there’s more help, but it seems tonight it’s just us. Start with the candles, will you?”

And so he started extinguishing each candle as you took one last lap around the structure, making sure everything was in place and every last visitor was gone. The two of you worked like a well-oiled machine, covertly glancing at each other whenever you crossed paths. Soon enough, you were locking the doors of the basilica.

Silvery moonlight and a few orange street lamps were the only illuminations outside. The stars above were like the million eyes of an archangel keeping watch over the nocturnal creatures. That evening, it felt like being closely examined, waiting for any slip-up to impart judgement.

You nodded at the night guard as you handed him the keys, and then you descended the steps along with your new companion.

“May I walk you home? It’s not safe to walk alone in the dark,” he said.

 You raised an eyebrow. “Something tells me you’re not really asking.”

He smirked at your cleverness. “I wouldn’t forgive myself if something were to happen to you, when I could have prevented it.”

You wanted to roll your eyes at that, but you opted for being polite. You’d walked the same path many times and had long stopped being afraid of the darkness. What lurked in it, on the other hand…

“I am not so proud that I’d refuse kindness,” you said finally, nodding for him to follow as you turned around. “Wary as I may seem around it.”

“I’ve noticed,” he commented, falling into step next to you. “Has your God been cruel to you?”

You shook your head. “No,  but men have. His most perfect creation, indeed.”

He smiled wryly, enjoying the sarcastic venom in your tone.  

“We can appreciate divinity by bearing witness to imperfection,” he said. “It helps us relate to one another, sometimes on an unconscious level.” 

You nodded slowly, peering over at his profile curiously. There was something truly mystifying about him — as if he was someone that only existed in intervals of time, like the cover of night — which was perhaps what kept drawing you in. 

You walked through the cobblestone streets, speaking in hushed voices. You discussed things like art and poetry, quickly veering into more philosophical topics. His mind was like a maze, clearly difficult to navigate, but you did not feel discouraged.

You did always like a good challenge, even if it wasn’t good for you.

All too soon,  you reached the old wooden door of the small convent. He noticed there was a small smudge of soot on your jaw, so he pulled his handkerchief out of his breast pocket and gestured to your face.

“May I?”

You nodded, frowning a little in confusion. He stepped closer, reaching up and gently wiping off the smudge. You forced yourself not to blush, barely breathing, keeping your eyes averted.

“There we go,” he murmured, pulling back and extending the handkerchief towards you. “Here, you can keep this until you get a chance to wash yours.”

“My…?” You started, but then his words clicked in your mind. 

Your heart began thundering in your chest at the realization, beads of sweat forming on the back of your neck. You took it all the same, finally looking up at him with wide eyes.

You were met with the smirking face of a jackal – a beast turned man. The lamb in you knew this, even if his demeanor was outwardly friendly. The look in his amber eyes was so ardent you couldn’t tear your gaze away, rooted to the spot. 

Had anyone ever looked at you like that? You couldn’t recall, and it didn’t seem to matter.

“What is your name?” You asked breathlessly. “I realize I never asked.”

“Hannibal,” he said. “Doctor Hannibal Lecter.”

————

Much later into the night, you were still unable to sleep. You tossed and turned, the sheets sticking to your feverish skin. You were plagued by contradictions,  internally waging a war against a feeling that had suddenly yawned open in the pit of your stomach. Something too much like hunger, sharp around the edges. 

With a frustrated sigh, you shifted onto your back and stared at the ceiling. You were no stranger to restlessness, but this time, you couldn’t be bothered to kneel beside the bed and pray. There was something far more pressing in the forefront of your mind. 

It was that look, like he could see beneath the veil of your piety — through you, even. He’d seen you punish yourself, too, which was an intimate act all on its own. A subtle art that you’d perfected over time, or at least thought you had.

And still, you could tell he liked what he saw.

Yanking the covers off of yourself, you padded over to your desk, pulling the handkerchief out of your satchel. The material was much finer than anything you’d ever owned, gliding smoothly in your hands. 

Gingerly, you ran your fingers over his embroidered initials, faintly smelling a note of something rich and earthy, like bergamot or perhaps clover. 

Your eyes fluttered shut as you brought it closer to your face, absolutely entranced. It was at these late hours that consequences seemed nonexistent. The truth seemed less frightening when shrouded in darkness, with only the moon witnessing your downfall.

You brought it back to the bed with you, lying down on your back once more. With the silken fabric pressed against your face, you inhaled slowly. The linen shift you wore to sleep rode up past your hips, exposing your legs and part of your lower abdomen.

Your fingers moved on their own, barely dipping into the hem of your underwear before stopping. A sensation akin to electricity crackled inside your chest, seizing your muscles. Blood roared in your ears as your heart galloped frantically. 

Was this what being on the edge of damnation was like? Too much like seeing your reflection on the forbidden fruit, bright red and infinitely tempting?

Your teeth scratching the skin, about to sink into the sweetest of knowledge…

As if scalded, you yanked your hand back, sitting up on the bed. You felt as if air had been squeezed out of your lungs, panting harshly, clawing at your throat. 

The room felt unbearably hot, the walls seemingly closing in on you. You stumbled out of bed and gripped the edge of your desk, knees buckling. The pulsing between your legs quickly simmered into a dull throb, shame, and guilt following in its wake. 

You were being tested, you had to be. What else could explain such recklessness? 

At least you’d gotten yourself away from the cliffside and could still get back on the right path. Surely, the Shepherd would not shun one of his lambs for almost being lured by a wolf.

But how could you ever explain that inane desire of yours to be devoured, ravished, utterly adored in your last gasping breaths? 

He was not blind to the way you’d bared your throat at the first glimpse of fangs.

This time, retribution would require more bloodshed — a lingering sort of discipline. After all, what was one more scar to add to the latticework of pink, raised skin all over your back?

You undid the laces at your throat and pulled your slip off, letting it fall to the floor unceremoniously.  You reached into the bottom drawer of your small dresser, finding purchase amidst the few austere garments you owned.

Your hands no longer shook as you gripped the twisted handle of the cat o’nine tails — it was salvation at your fingertips, and you held on so tightly it left indentations on your palm. You focused your gaze on the wooden cross on the wall, prayers for mercy at your lips. 

And the only other thought in your mind at that moment was ‘Fifteen lashes should suffice.’

——

Perhaps you’d gone overboard. 

In the sobering light of day, you lay on your stomach next to the open window, listening to the trilling of birds. You felt ill with the aftermath of your slight overindulgence of masochism.

Earlier that morning, you’d feigned stomach pain and nausea. The latter wasn’t too far from the truth, and the pallor of your face – which was also dotted with cold sweat – helped sell the lie. 

None of the Sisters – much less the madre superiora –  were privy to your violent bouts of self-discipline. Not only would they disapprove, but… it would lead to situations you did not want to bring upon yourself. 

You were just drifting off to sleep, exhaustion finally overpowering you, when you heard a soft knock on the door. You pulled the blanket back upon yourself, hiding the incriminating evidence.

“Si?”  You called softly, shifting your head to face the door.

It swung open to reveal the madre superiora herself, accompanied by… Oh, merciful God. 

Hannibal tensed at the doorway, his nostrils flaring as he scented the coppery tang permeating the small room. Though the window had been open for some time, your essence still lingered – a narcotic in its own right. He kept his composure as his mouth watered, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.

“How are you feeling, Sorella?”  the madre inquired, concern all over her gentle, weathered features. 

“Still about the same,” you said, attempting to keep your eyes on her and not on her companion – none other than the man who’d tried to coax you away from the Lord’s pasture.

“Doctor Lecter here said he helped you home yesterday. He expressed concern for your well-being and has offered to examine you.”

“Free of any charge, of course, madre,” he assured. “I merely want to help however I can. If that is okay with you, that is.”

You merely nodded, not trusting your voice at that moment.

“Your generosity shall be returned doubly, Doctor,” the madre said with a smile. “I shall give you some privacy. Please let me know if you need anything.”

And with that, she left the room, shutting the door behind her. 

Hannibal approached slowly, as if you were a skittish animal he didn’t want to spook. You eyed him peripherally, wary all the same. He knelt at your side, taking a moment to observe you. 

“I was worried at your absence today,” he said as a way of explaining his being there, voice low. “I hear it is some sort of stomach bug?”

“Not quite,” you murmured. “It is something far more… visible.”

He slightly tilted his head to the side in curiosity. “May I take a look at you?”

“How can I refuse the most  generous doctor?” 

You shifted your shoulders to indicate he should pull down the sheet. He reached out to do so, finding some resistance. The fabric clung to your wounds, which had crusted as scabs began to form. As he had to use a little more force, you sucked in a breath through your teeth.

Upon seeing what you had done to yourself, he was momentarily flummoxed. His eyes trailed over the angry red welts, appreciating the macabre artistry. The scent of blood was stronger now; A few of the wounds had reopened and were weeping crimson. He stifled the sudden desire to catch one of the drops with his tongue.

“What have we here?” he asked.

“The consequence of sin.”

“And what sin might that be?”

You pursed your lips, refusing to give voice to your faults. Your silence only compelled his curiosity further, but he decided not to press. That didn’t mean he wasn’t good at getting the answers he wanted, though. 

 “I was unaware such practices were still… observed.”

“Not usually. It is my best-kept secret,” your eyes fluttered closed as he pulled the sheet further down, until the barest glimpse of the top of your ass was visible. “Something for my own.”

His response was a thoughtful hum, and he stood to get some supplies from a small bag he’d brought.

When he knelt once more, you could smell alcohol. “Let’s clean these up then, shall we?”

You nodded, attempting to brace yourself. The lacerations on your back sang with agony as he began to dab at them, your teeth clenched so hard you feared they might crack. Still, his touch was so tender — almost to the point of reverence — that you thought you might weep. 

“We are most like Him in that through immense agony, we can become holy,” he quoted, perhaps attempting to distract you. “Is that not what you said? I admire your determination.”

As the sting just barely began to dissipate, you could speak again.

“Think I am redeemed in the eyes of Heaven?”

“Perhaps,” he said. “In my eyes, at least, you are.”

Near delirious with a pain that made your brain feel like glass — and that cursed longing you suddenly couldn’t tamp down — you arched closer to his hands as he dressed the wounds. 

“What do you gain from all this?” You ventured, needing to know the answer.

“Must I gain something?”

“I can’t seem to find another explanation.”

He was quiet for a moment. “I am merely intrigued by you. I can’t help being drawn. Can you blame me?”

“Perhaps I just don’t understand what makes me so interesting.”

“In time you will see. I will make sure of it.”

----

#hannibal lecter fanfiction #hannibal fanfiction #hannibal lecter x fem!reader #hanibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecte x you #minors dni

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mise En Place 6

Warnings: noncon, coercion, manipulation. Proceed with caution.

Note:I’ll be honest that these parts are a little more hands on because I’m full on learning cocktail recipes here lol.

Thanks all for reading and I hope you’re excited for this one. All feedback is more than welcome and loved and appreciated. Reblogs are most helpful.

Part of The Club AU

The night finishes with you back in the kitchen. The club is static as the music’s faded out and the bodies have shuffled out into the streets. You line the dripping glasses across the metal rack and drain the last of the dishwater. You dry your hands and toss the cloth in the bin with the rest of the soiled linens.

As you emerge, Thor is at the bar. He has his phone in hand as he yawns into his other. You tiptoe by but he calls your name before you can sneak off to the coat room. You turn back and hide your reticence. As friendly as he is, you can’t wait to be home and in bed. The safest and most cozy haven you have.

“Do you have a way home?” He asks.

“I walk,” you assure him, “thanks.”

“Walk? At this time of night?”

You shrug, “I always have.”

“Is it not scary?”

“I don’t live far,” you assure him.

“Still,” he insists as he tucks away his phone and crosses his arms, “I could drive you.”

“Like I said, it isn’t very far.”

“That doesn’t matter. I heard there was some girl found in the alleyway… I’d hate for that to be you.”

You blink, startled by that thought. You remember the earring and twiddle your fingers nervously. You chew your lip. You’ll just keep your phone at the ready.

“I can make it,” you shift slowly on your heel, “good night.”

You go around to the coat room and grab your bag. You take out your phone and tuck your keys in your pocket so you can find them easily. You come back out and nearly collide with Thor.

“I will walk you out, at least,” he insists.

You purse your lips. You don’t like to argue. You drop your shoulders and nod, “okay.”

He gestures you ahead of him and you cross the barroom to the stairs. You descend with him close behind, almost too close, and as you get to the bottom, he comes parallel, his hand hovering along the small of your back. Behind the bar, you try not to let his little touches bother you, but now, it makes you squirm.

You part from him, scurrying for the door. You stagger back as it opens from the other side and the bouncer comes through, his usual scowl etched on his face like the scar rippled along one side. You move out of his way as he grumbles and stomps by.

Thor chuckles, “moody one. No wonder my brother likes him.”

You don’t say a word and hurry outside. Thor follows and you look down the street before turning back to him, “have a good night.”

His cheek ticks and his brow furrows, “you shouldn’t go alone.”

“I do it every night.”

“You shouldn’t,” he repeats.

You frown. His persistence reminds you of someone else. Of someone you don’t like to remember.

“I’ll be okay.”

“But I worry,” he intones.

You stare at his chest. He is a big man. He must not be afraid of anything. He probably doesn’t have to watch over his shoulder or listen for footsteps. He is the one other people would cower away from.

“Well, you don’t have to,” you say. “Good night.”

You spin and quickly flit away. You don’t know why you don’t accept the offer. You would feel safer yet you like your invisibility. No one knows you or where you live or what you do. They didn’t until the night he noticed you.

As you walk, you get the sense that you’re not alone. You turn your head slightly, trying to see from the corner of your eye. You round the corner but there is only a fleeting shadow that disappears down the previous street.

You light up your phone. It’s later than your usual walk home. For some, it’s early. You head down towards your building and stop by the entrance to the small alley that leads to your door.

You let yourself in and twist the locks into place. Your apartment is dark and you don’t bother turning on a light. You change into a loose tee shirt and roll onto the futon. You lay flat, your head sinking into the pillow as you stare at the outline of the window on the ceiling.

Your eyes close, itchy and dry. You listen to the sounds of the city, distant cars, the subtle breeze flowing along the brick. Then the sudden and shaking shatter of glass. You sit up with a gasp as the heavy shape lands on the floor.

You swipe your phone from beside you on the bed and you shine the light towards the large rock amid the remnants of the window. You shudder and look at the window. They couldn’t scale the building, could they?

You get up and inch towards the window, keeping to the side as you fear another rock. You near and peek out over the ledge quickly. You don’t see anything but the dented garbage cans and shrouded awning. You retract and face the room, watching the rock as if it will move on its own.

You slide down the wall as you stare. Numb and paralysed. Did he find you? After all this time? Who else would do something like this? Who else would want to scare you?

#thor #dark thor #dark!thor #thor x reader #drabble #au #series #the club #mcu #marvel #avengers #mise en place

[mechformers]

Ma Miles - Ch. 15

7k words

Chapter warnings: Injuries, depictions of wounds, blood, Mo'at's mind is dirty, the reader is giving Quaritch a "sponge" bath (I swear, I tried my hardest not to make it...sexy), soiled underwear (I'm really so sorry, but the guy's been unconscious for quite a while - I don't make the rules lol)

I'm a day late, I'm so sorry... Thank you so much for leaving comments, though! It's my absolute weakness and it makes me so incredibly happy to know what you're thinking and feeling. So really, thank you so much!

(If you want to be tagged with the updated chapters, please leave your @ myusername in the comments! ) Previous chapter | Masterpost | Chapter 16

The worst was not behind you. In fact, the worst stood right before you in the form of your worst nightmare come to life. You hadn’t been long in the air on the second day when a screeching sound of an obviously distressed ikran called in the distance, only for Hawnu to call back to it, responding to the call. Your ikran sent worrying emotions through your bond but it wasn’t before the other ikran came closer, and you recognized it, that you understood why. 

Cupcake flew toward you, her distressed, desperate screeches almost painfully loud as she flew in circles before you. She was still wearing the heavy armor that the sky people had adorned the ikrans with. It seems to have been ripped in places by something big and strong enough to inflict such damage to an ikran. Hawnu chirps at Cupcake, before changing direction, silently asking you to bear with him through the bond. Putting your hand on his neck, you shift Neteyam’s weight against you before turning your head to look at Mo’at. The older woman just nods, her expression one of surprise, yet…not? You don’t have time to wonder what it was about as Hawnu picks up altitude before rounding a corner you knew all too well. 

Looking to the other side of the cliffs, you gasped at the forest view that plagued your dreams as much as it soothed you. The what if’s had been spinning around in your mind for weeks, never leaving you alone for long enough to find rest. Would things have turned out differently if only… Hawnu lands on the edge of the cliff, his powerful wings folding forcefully as he steps further from the edge before lowering down. Already, you can see the Na’vi laying motionless a few yards away. While Mo’at and her ikran land, you steel your nerves before absentmindedly breaking tsaheylu with Hawnu. Securing Neteyam on his back, you look back at Mo’at before stepping down. In the back of your mind, you already know who it is.

A heavy weight settles in your stomach as you approach the demon. He’s lying on his side by the tree line, the shadow just barely covering his body. Turning the demon around on his back, your heart clenches painfully at what you see. The demon’s face is swollen, blood long since stopped running, the fluid caking over where gravity had led its trail. The cuts littering his body are just as swollen as those on his face are, the infection has long since started. He’s too pale, his breaths shallow and his body alarmingly thin compared to how massive he had been only a few weeks past. Beside him, rotting meat and fruits lay all but untouched. Cupcake had obviously tried to fend for him alone, the ikran most likely with him when... 

“Does he live?” Mo’at asks, her voice clipped, almost emotionless. 

“Yes,” You confirm, your own voice hard. “He’s badly hurt,”

You say it more as an afterthought as you rise. Looking around the cliff clearing, you try to collect your thoughts, try to decide what to do. In reality, it shouldn’t be a question at all, not after what he had done to your son, to you - to the Na’vi people and Pandora. Leaving him here would mean death. Of that, you were fairly certain. If he was this close to his home without the sky people having picked him up, it would mean that he truly had no one else than Cupcake to take care of him. 

Turning your back to him, you walk back to Hawnu. The demon had caused all of this, had brought this on himself. Eywa was ready to accept him into her warm embrace, but he had rejected her and all of her children in the worst way possible. Getting up on Hawnu, you spare him one last look, seeing how Cupcake moves closer, nudging his motionless body as she chirps at him. His body is all but lifeless as he flops around to his side. 

Shouting angrily to the skies, to Eywa, to… everything, you get off of Hawnu again. You can hear Mo’at’s approving hum as you all but stomp over to the demon. Rolling him over to his back again, you take your knife and start cutting at the armor-like coverings he’s wearing. Huffing to yourself, you wonder what good it is when the material gives way too easily before your knife. You fumble a bit with the big chest piece, even though you had watched the recoms take them on and off before. Having removed all weapons and armor from his body, leaving the demon in his tight-looking little tweng, you try your best to sit him up before hoisting him over your shoulder. 

It’s almost impossible, his sheer mass, although he’s grown thin, almost too heavy. You wobble your way over to Hawnu before falling to your knees when you try to put him down again. Kicking his deadweight off of you, a split second of fear strikes you at causing even more damage to him. The demon’s body just slides against Hawnu’s flank, however. Getting up to your feet, you walk over to Cupcake, trying to get a handle on how her armor works. It’s punctured in odd places, as if something had bitten her neck, but when you touch your finger to the holes, there’s nothing but firm skin beneath. The armor had obviously protected her, but it needed to go. 

Turning back to the discarded weapons, you take the big knife out of its sheath. Cupcake is surprisingly calm as you struggle to cut through the armor binding her. Only when the last piece of armor falls, does she screech loudly and spread her wings as she shakes her long neck. Her joy is enough to put a smile back on your face. Putting the knife back in its sheath, you stare down at it for a moment before bringing it with you, stepping over the demon as you reach for Hawnu’s bag. 

“Can you do anything for his wounds?” You ask Mo’at, noticing how she’s still staring at the demon. 

It is not lost on you how the story goes. You had been at hometree yourself during the attack, but when some people had fled with the first smoke, you had been lucky enough to have been grabbed, escaping the massacre that had followed. Your Olo’eyktan, Mo’at’s mate, had lost his life that day, and shortly after, Tsu’tey had followed. All thanks to the demon before you. 

“When Eywa spoke to me of change to come, I did not expect it to happen this soon,” Mo’at starts, deep in thought as she continues to stare at the demon, “That this change would be him…” 

She didn’t have to finish her sentence, you already understood, and why she had joined your journey suddenly became so clear. Mo’at had stayed behind when her family left the Omatikaya, the Tsahìk no doubt training her replacement for the day when she could join her daughter again. 

“How long have you known?” You can’t help yourself from asking, not even when Mo’at’s all-seeing eyes shift to you, pinning you down.

“Eywa spoke of a difficult change to come shortly before Neytiri and her family left the Omatikaya. I interpreted the challenge would be to let them go, but when you arrived with Neteyam still alive, the Great Mother showed me that the changes were still to come, that it would be the hardest challenge of my life,” The way Mo’at clenches her fist lest you understand just how difficult this was to the Tsahìk. “No challenge will ever be more difficult than the demon, Y/n,”

“No medicine will help him in this state. The demon will need to be cleaned.” Mo’at hums cooly before looking at Neteyam, “Your ikran cannot carry his weight in addition to the two of you. My grandson will fly with me,”

There’s nothing you can say about that. She is your Tsahìk, your clan’s spiritual leader, and therefore the one in charge. What she says goes. Walking over to Neteyam, you’re grateful that the young man sleeps well.  They would need to find a place for him to rest soon anyway, so you might as well search for somewhere safe to stay for the night. The demon would, undoubtedly, need a thorough cleaning with the way he stank and his wounds caked with old blood and puss. You just hoped he wouldn’t wake up anytime soon. 

Carrying Neteyam over to Mo’at, helping her lift the young man up to sit in front of her on the ikran, you turn back to stare at the demon again. His heavy mass had been daunting the short distance you had carried him over to Hawnu, but to actually lift him to sit astride your ikran would be a nightmare. For a second, you wondered if hauling him over Hawnu’s back would be alright, but you quickly cast that idea aside. For some unfathomable reason, you had decided to help the father of your son, and help him, you would. It still didn’t mean you had to be happy about it, but at least you could look Spider in the eyes and say that you tried. 

Sighing deeply, you pray to Eywa for strength as you pull his arms over your shoulders, hoisting him up to lay over your back. On wobbly legs, you manage to rise high enough to lift his leg over Hawnu’s neck, but as you try to push, the sheer mass of the demon slides down your back instead, his weight too much for you to hold back. Like a bag of seeds being dropped to the ground, the demon coils into a heap as he hits the ground. 

Growling, you bend down to harshly pull on his stupidly heavy arm. The demon is impossibly heavy, impossibly long, and stupidly uncooperative in this unhelpful state of his. Eventually, you manage to drape him over Hawnu’s back, his long legs dangling on each side as you try your best to balance him on Hawnu’s back, only to realize that he’s sitting the wrong way around. Hissing with annoyance, you step up on Hawnu’s back, shoving the demon back as you take your place. Balancing his body you push your legs beneath his, grunting at the added weight it brings to your own balance. In the end, the demon is all but sitting in your lap, his massive body held against yours. Making tsaheylu with Hawnu, you beg for his forgiveness, asking him to be strong while you try to balance the demon’s weight. 

Looking back at Mo’at and Neteyam, you signal that you’re ready to move. The smirk on Mo’at’s lips is not lost on you, nor is the raised eye when you huff at the demon as his head slides down your shoulder. He stinks and it pains your nose to have him this close to you. Taking off after Mo’at, you wobble slightly to find your balance until Hawnu manages to stretch his wings in the warm midday air. You needed to find a safe place to stay for the night, somewhere, preferably, close enough to a pond. But proximity to a pond also meant proximity to predatory animals in the woods. You would need Hawnu’s help to both get the demon up and down from a fitting tree. 

Following Mo’at, you let your mind wander to the demon in your lap. On so many levels, you wanted to just let him slide off Hawnu, lean your head over to watch him plummet to his death, and shrug your shoulders as you continued on your way. But you knew that this was your bleeding heart talking to you, its bruises fresh as the gashes bleed uncontrollably. You don’t even want to think of the reason why, but the thought springs forth anyway. 

During your months as the demon’s captive, you saw a side to him you hadn’t expected. Qualities that spoke straight to your heart, to your mind, and most importantly, to your soul. It was a young girl’s foolish hope to deny it any longer. You had fallen in love with the man in your arms, fallen in love with the father of your child in the most horrible of conditions. Yet, if you really dug deep, you couldn’t regret it. The man before you had such potential and you could only guess that it was what the Great Mother had seen in him when the atokirina had embraced him in his entirety all those months ago.

You don’t notice how your hand finds its way up to cup the back of his head, holding him protectively closer, nor the way Mo’at’s smiles as she looks back at you. Deep in your thoughts, there’s only you and him, fighting your way through the wilderness of Pandora to get to your son. There is no betrayal, no harsh foreign words as he takes your son away from you for a second time, there’s no anger and disappointment over making your son cry. There is no burning of innocent villages or killing of sacred animals.

A sharp whistle pulls you out of your musings, however, Mo’at gesturing for a descent toward a mountainside. Confused, you follow the older woman’s lead. Looking back you were relieved to see that Cupcake followed your lead, still flying close to Hawnu. Your confusion, however,  only increases when, upon landing, you’re met with nothing of significance. There’s nothing there but the wild beauty of the Great Mother. 

“Send your ikrans away,” Mo’at hums as she breaks tsaheylu with her own ikran before gathering Neteyam in her arms and siding off. 

Following suit, you ask Hawnu to stay safe and to watch over Cupcake, before clumsily sliding off of his back while balancing the demon. Leaning him over your shoulder, you back up until his long legs slid off of Hawnu and his full weight rested on you. Grunting, you fold your arms under the demon’s bottom, careful to slide your hands under his tail so as to not put pressure on it. Hawnu doesn’t need to be asked twice before taking off, his mighty wings spreading as he lifts off of the ground, cupcake and Mo’at’s ikran following his lead immediately. 

“Come,” Mo’at calls to you, the older woman already moving toward the mountainside. 

Walking with the demon hoisted over your shoulder like this is difficult. You’re not the strongest Na’vi, neither warrior nor gatherer. Your contribution to the clan never depended on your physical strength. Still, you put one foot in front of the other as your thighs burned under the demon’s weight. 

“What you are to see stays between us, child,” Mo’at turns to you, her expression one of stony seriousness, making your spine straighten as you nod your head in understanding. 

Giving a minute nod of her own, Mo’at shifts Neteyam in her arms before turning back to the mountainside. Stepping up to the vines climbing up the rockside she reaches into one of the small pouches on her hips with one hand. There’s a powder-like substance in her hand when it emerges and you watch with big eyes as she blows the powder over the vines, the flora glowing brightly before pulling back from the rocks, creating a door to what hides behind. 

“Do not touch the vines. They are poisonous,” Mo’at’s clipped voice calls as she enters the tunnel that has just been revealed behind the vines. 

The passage is small, meant for only one to pass through, but as you maneuver both yourself and the demon though, you move slowly to ensure that neither one of you touches the vines. What greets you once you pass through the dark opening is nothing but a narrow, dark passage. Still, you follow Mo’at as she continues to walk further into the tunnel. It continues for a long while, the temperature dropping the further into the tunnel you walk. The scent of moist cave increases and just for a second, you let yourself doubt your Tsahìk. But like everything else, your doubt is unfounded as the tunnel suddenly opens up to a huge cave. Before you, bioluminescent light awakens as you step further into the cave, the huge space waking to life as it reveals its wonders. 

“What is this place?” You hear yourself ask, wonder and awe icing every syllable of your words. 

“This is a sacred place, one of many hidden, only to be shared between Tsahìk for safe travels or spiritual guidance,” Mo’at hums as she places Neteyam’s still sleeping body up against a rock. 

Stepping further into the cave, you let your eyes wander over the illuminated walls to the right, following its lights until they rest on smaller illuminated cups of water, steam rising from the surfaces. On the other side of the cave sat what looked to be a couple of nests, the blankets removed as if the place had been unused for quite some time. To your left, a cooking area was made, the firestones neatly laid in a circle under a pot. The cave had everything one would need, but what truly took your breath away was the huge pond before you, its round surface nestled up against the rock wall. It was huge and when you stepped up to it, you could see that it continued underwater and further into the mountain. 

“You should wash the demon,” Mo’at speaks up as she fluffs a folded blanket before laying it down on the closest nest. “The cups over there are heated, the water changes with the current underneath, so don’t drop him,”

Once more, you feel the sheer massive weight of the demon on your shoulders, his presence momentarily forgotten as you inspected the cave. Now though, your shoulder burned as you tried to gently put him down, failing miserably when the mass of his body came rushing down once his weight was shifted. His bottom hits the ground hard and you hiss in sympathy as his tail takes the full force of his descent beneath him. Stretching, you look down at him, wrinkling your nose at the state of him. He’s soiled and downright disgusting where he’s discarded, his tweng beyond ruined where it holds onto his narrow hips for dear life. Cleaning him would be a nightmare.

“There are some spare clothing stored in the cave, but I do not know if any of them will fit him. The demon is quite big,” Mo’at calls from behind you, still fussing over Neteyam, changing his wound. 

Making sure that the demon won’t fall into one of the cups of water, you walk over to Mo’at, moving to the chest she points at. Opening it, you’re met with different kinds of clothing. There are capes, chest pieces, twengs, and leg protectors. They’re all in different sizes, but the demon is huge. Although his waist is narrow, it’s still thicker than any Na’vi you had ever seen, the sheer mass behind his body making him bigger than usual. Neither of the twengs you held up would fit him, his big bottom would be taking up most of the cloth, giving him little protection. But then again, the tweng he wore now offered no front or back cover so maybe it would be alright? 

Picking the longest tweng, a deep green with leather straps, you hold the cloaks up, hoping that one of them would be big enough to cover him. Eywa smiles upon you when the very first cloak you hold up turns out to be a broad and long one. Happy with the choices, you neatly place the other items back into the chest, bringing the tweng and cloak with you. However, when you approach the devil once more, the daunting realization of what you have to do dawns on you. It’s been many years since the last time you’ve had to clean a soiled tweng, and back then, it had been your son’s small toddler tweng. 

The man before you was certainly not a toddler and certainly not small. Hesitating, you look pleadingly back at Mo’at, hoping that she might show you mercy this once. As a healer, she surely must have dealt with this before, right? However, when your eyes meet, the older woman shakes her head firmly before getting back to whatever she was doing in the cooking area. Sighing deeply, you close your eyes as you once more ask the Great Mother to lend you her strength. It doesn’t work… When you open your eyes, the demon still lies there motionless and dirty.

Clenching your jaw, you put the new clothing down a safe distance from the cups of water before you kneel before the demon. Turning him over on his side, you try to look for the fastening of his tweng, but after a while, it becomes clear that there are none. Much like the demon’s leg coverings, his tweng does not have straps to hold it in place. Grabbing your knife, you cut his tail free before you turn him over on his back once more. Taking hold of the impossibly soft material, you cut the first leg free before moving over to the other, closest to you. 

It’s not lost on you how his bare body would be revealed to you without his consent, on how you would see his bare form for the very first time in a situation like this. But he could not stay in the state he was in. The alternative would be to tell your son that your stiffness cost his father his life when it easily could have been saved, had you not been so shy. Taking a deep breath to steel yourself, you let your knife slice through the material, bending it back and pulling the twengs down between his legs. 

“Hmm… not bad,” Mo’at hums from behind you, her face clouded with impressed humor as she stares at the demon. “Here, you will need this to lean him,” 

Taking the bowl and cloth from her hands, you put them down by the cup of water closest to you. Removing your own tweng and chest piece, you step into the water sighing with relief as the warm water soothes your nerves. For just a moment, you let your eyes wander over the demon’s body, his powerful muscles still impressive, despite how thin he had grown. Your gaze followed as his massive chest rose and fell with each shallow breath he took, his stomach moving as it caved between his ribs and hip bones. His thighs went on for ages, making way for his incredible height, where he towered over most Na’vi. The gift toe on each foot made your ears twitch. Although you were used to the extra digits from having Spider, to see the adult Na’vi version of it made you stop for a second. 

Sighing, you grab his ankles, gently pulling him inch by inch into the cup of water. His heavy body forces you to use everything you have to be able to pull him in, but slowly his knees rest on the brim, his legs dangling into the hot water. Clenching your teeth, you look up over the rest of him, dreading how the heaviest part of him still remained. This time, however, you were unable to stop your gaze from landing on the demon’s genitals. Immediately, your cheeks heat at what you see. You’re unable to keep the gasp from leaving your lips as your eyes grow big with intimidated shock and curiosity. The demon was, indeed, big. Even in his rested state, his member nestled heavy and thick in the crook of his hip, his testicles full and big beneath. 

Averting your eyes, you’re met with the knowing shrug of your Tsahìk, the older woman’s smirk bringing you even more embarrassment at getting caught. With cheeks burning, you reach for the demon’s hand, pulling him sideways until he is ready to tip over into the water. Stepping forward, you lift his arms to rest over your shoulders before pulling him in. It’s not ideal, the demon’s height and weight immediately pulling you down with him as the rest of his body follows. Gasping you hurry to keep his head over the water, spreading your legs to hold his weight as he drapes over you. 

Locking your arms around his waist, you breathe heavily as you let the moving water do its thing. Distantly, you wished you had something like this at home, the constantly shifting water bringing fresh, hot water to the surface as the dirty water disappeared. When you deemed the demon to have soaked long enough, you clumsily moved over to the edge to grab the cloth and bowl that Mo’at had offered you. Immediately, you recognize the strong scent of soap. Dipping the cloth into the water, you squeeze it gently before dipping it into the bowl. Gently, you let the cloth drag over the demon’s shoulders, letting the lazy studs form before being washed away again. 

Inch by inch, you clean the demon’s back. Pushing your thigh between his legs, you gently lean him back until his head rests on the brim and he’s spread out before you. All too gently, you wipe at the crusted blood on his face, wincing at the swelling as fresh blood bubbles forth, only to slide down his slack face. He looks almost gentle while his face is slack with sleep and it reminds you of how his face should have looked, all nuzzled up and content as he snuggles close to you. The thought makes your heart squeeze painfully in your chest, your ears flattening against your skull as you wince. 

Dipping the cloth into the bowl of soap, you continue to clean the demon, letting the studs gather over his arms, his chest, his torso until there is only one area that remains. Steeling yourself, you take a deep breath as you dip the cloth into the bowl of soap once more. Resting both of his arms over the brim of the water, you grab the cloth while cupping the demon’s member in your hand, bringing it down. Guiding the cloth, you clean his privates, making sure to get every crook and cranny as you lifted his tail out of the way. In the end, the only thing that remained was to hoist him up and out of the water. 

Which proved more difficult than you had first anticipated. In the end, after the demon slides you both back into the water, Mo’at offers to help. With an arm in each of your hands, the two of you manage to drag him out of the water. Sitting down beside him, you breathe heavily as Mo’at walks back to Neteyam, the older woman chuckling as she mutters to herself. Getting your breath back in your lungs, you take the offered blankets that Mo’at holds out to you. Picking a nest a little further away, you place the blankets around in a comfortable manner before stepping over to the demon again. 

Lifting him up while wet was even more difficult, but you managed to bend him over your shoulder as you wobbled your way over to the nest you had prepared. Gently laying him down in the middle, you take one of the blankets and start wiping his body down, drying off what little water remained. Holding up the tweng, you roll him over on his side as you place the leather over his hips. Binding it around his tail, you fasten the fabric before placing it comfortably between the demon’s cheeks. Rolling him to his back again, you gently cop his member and testicles as you drape the fabric over them, making sure to pull them back as you fasten the fabric to the front. Tightening the leather, you step back out of the nest, walking over to the cup of water to put your own tweng and chest piece on. 

When you finish, Mo’at is already sitting by his side, binding his wounds in paste and leaves while she chants silently. Something you didn’t know you were holding back shifts inside of you as relief washes over you. Turning her head, Mo’at looks at you with a knowing expression on her face. 

“Come,” Mo’at gestures with a shift of her head, “You should learn how to do this,”

And just like that, you find yourself learning how to dress the demon’s wounds, learning what to apply where and which salve and paste to use. Smiling to yourself, you enjoyed learning about this, enjoyed the fact that you now would know how to help if it ever was needed again. 

“What makes Neteyam sleep like this?” You find yourself asking when you’ve finished and Mo’at has approved of your work. 

“I mixed a sleeping paste with his food to make his travels easier. I had not expected our journey to be interrupted so soon,” Mo’at replies as she lays down beside her grandson, “The Metkayina clans are not too far from here. I had hoped to reach Awa'atlu tomorrow before eclipse,” 

“Do you know the Olo’eyktan and Tsahìk?” You ask while sitting down beside the demon, looking at him while he rests. 

“I do,” Mo’at looks at you, studying your face as she thinks. “They assisted Jake Sully after the attack on hometree. Toruk Makto gathered what clans he could reach before the sky people came for the Vitraya Ramunong, before he came,” She points at the demon. 

“Did they know each other, is that why they’re arguing?” You find yourself asking, flinching when Mo’at narrows her eyes. 

“The demon was Jake Sully’s leader when he first came to us. They wanted what was in the soil, beneath the hometree, and once they got that, they wanted more. But it did not seem as if the demon wanted anything other than Toruk Makto,” Mo’at starts, her face getting a far-off stare. “Jake Sully betrayed the sky people to be one of us, to protect the people and Pandora. This Colonel Miles Quaritch did not like that,”

“I’m sorry, “ You don’t know what else to say, “Is that why Neytiri never accepted Spider?”

“My daughter holds great anger for the demon. He caused the death of her father and the death of so many more than Eytukan. Spider is the son of the demon, yet he is your son,”

“Spider is nothing like the demon,” You hiss, your ears snapping back close to your skull in defense. 

“Spider is Omatikaya, Y/n,” Mo’at shoots back with such strength that it makes goosebumps spread over your skin, “Yet, he cannot deny his parentage. He has a foot in both worlds, it yet remains to see if it will be his strength or downfall,”

Closing your eyes, your tail wraps tightly around your thigh in an attempt at comforting yourself. I don't work. You want your son, you need to know that he’s safe, that he’s not hurt or lonely. Although Neytiri did not care for him like she would a Na’vi-born child, you knew that he was safe with her and Toruk Makto. Lo’ak and Kiri were with them and so, Spider would not be lonely. Sighing deeply, you open your eyes to stare at the demon. He had caused so much suffering and pain, and yet, here you were; taking care of him, nursing him back to health. 

“Trust the Great Mother, Y/n, she will guide the way,” Mo’at speaks before fluffing a blanket, “Everything happens for a reason,”

And just like that, the older woman lies down to sleep, leaving you to stare at the demon alone. Sleep doesn’t come easy that night. As you stare at the demon, your mind wanders the memories of your time together, analyzing, remembering, soaking up the hurt and pain, and when you woke again, your heart felt heavier than it had been for quite some time. You went through changing his wounds with Mo’at by your side, surprised to see the swelling and infection already starting to heal. You feed him enriched fluids, helping him swallow the small amounts of liquid before eating something for yourself. Packing up, you clean and put away what you had used before once more hoisting the demon up over your shoulder. The trek out of the cave this time felt longer and heavier than the previous night. 

You don’t struggle as much as you did the previous day when getting the demon up on Hawnu’s back, getting settled easier than before. You drape the cape over the demon’s shoulders in an attempt to protect his body from the unforgiving sun and the cold air as you flew. Smiling, you huff a small chuckle when Cupcake wanders over to smell the demon’s body, obviously approving when she chirps at you. 

It’s not until the first break that Neteyam awakens, the young man’s eyes widened as he realizes what his grandmother had done. He was not pleased, Neytiri’s frown mirrored on his face as he grumbled at Mo’at for keeping him ”out of the game”, claiming that he was supposed to be a warrior. To the older woman’s credit, she doesn’t rise to his childishness, only waving him away as she helps you prepare more paste and salve for the demon. Too late, you realize what seeing the demon with them does to the young man. 

“What is he doing here?” Neteyam hisses and it’s the most venomous sound you have ever heard in your life, “Grandma?!”

“Hush child,” Mo’at barks, but it’s of no use. In a matter of seconds, Neteyam has grabbed a knife and is charging for the demon. 

Before you know what you’re doing, you’ve discarded the salve you were mashing into a smooth paste and thrown yourself protectively over the demon’s body. You’re just in time as Neteyam’s knife slices through the air, the blade nicking your skin as you manage to dislodge it from his hand. It’s not lost on you that had he not already been weakened by his wound, the knife would have gone straight through your arms and into your chest. 

“Step aside, Neteyam,” You hiss furiously as blood drips down your arm. 

“You’re protecting him?” Neteyam shrieks and the sound makes your heart ache because you feel his pain. 

Protecting the demon goes against everything in your mind, yet, your body had reacted before you even had time to register what was happening, your body instinctively knowing what to do before your mind did. 

“It is the Great Mother’s will, Neteyam,” Mo’at interjects, wrapping her hand over her grandson’s shoulder. “We cannot question Eywa’s choices, no matter how much we disagree with it,”

“He killed Granpa, he killed Sylwanin,” Neteyam hisses, and the words sent such an instant reaction through Mo’at that it made Neteyam step back. 

“Who says this, child?” Mo’at hisses furiously. 

“Mom and dad said that-”

“Your mother and father are fools, blinded by rage. The demon did not kill my mate. A piece of wood from the hometree did. And Sylwanin’s rage was what got her killed,” It looked like the words pained Mo’at to admit, but at the same time, it looked like something loosened inside of her as her face mellowed out. 

“The sky people have caused much devastation and sorrow, Neteyam, but they are not to blame for every bad thing that has happened. They are not to blame for every warrior's death or every accident that has happened, no matter how much we will it. The Great Mother has a plan for all of us and for some, that journey ends before others. I believe that’s why we were given the Vitraya Ramunong so that we can speak with their souls,”

“My Eytukan knows and accepts his death, knowing that Jake Sully will do what he can for the people. Sylwanin and Tsu’tey are reunited, finally together like they always wanted to. Their journey has ended while ours still continues,” Mo’at holds Neteyam to her chest as the young man cries, her eyes meeting yours as you stare open-eyed at her. 

“The path Eywa has created for us is not always the easiest, but it is the right one,” Mo’at finishes, and for a moment, you feel as if she’s speaking to you directly. 

Looking down at the demon, you stare at his peacefully resting face. The ugly bruises have all but disappeared, the swelling has almost gone too. His cuts still remain, but even they have scabbed over, the paste and salve Mo’at have mixed, working faster than you thought possible. Stepping away from the demon, you clutch the cut on your arm, relieved to see that it’s not deep. Wiping the blood away from your skin, you take some of the salve you had been mixing, hissing at the sting that it causes when you apply it. 

Turning your back to the others, you start the process of changing the demon’s bindings again, getting him ready for the journey ahead once more. You’ve just finished feeding the demon, helping him swallow the liquid when Neteyam moves closer, his ears pinned back against his skull, his tail wrapped tightly around his thigh. 

“I-I didn’t mean to hurt you,” He stutters, unable to meet your eyes, “I’m sorry,”

“How is your wound, Neteyam?” You decide to ask instead, smiling gently at him.

“It hurts, but it’s getting better,” He mumbles, still unable to meet your eyes. 

“When the demon took spider, I went after him,” You start, deciding that the young man deserved to know how you had ended up where you were today. So you tell him everything, tell him about how you had taught the unit the Na’vi way, told him how they had accepted Eywa in their hearts, about how their minds started to follow suit. You told him about how the Great Mother had embraced the demon, sending a sign so strong you could not deny it. And when you had told him everything there was to tell, you told him about how something had changed, about how everything fell to ruin and the events of the Metkayina had happened. It’s not lost on you how Mo’at listens in on the conversation, or how her tail flicks as she comes to her own conclusions, filling in answers to questions only she knows. 

“I thought they would go home after everything,” Neteyam mumbles, his gentle eyes finally meeting yours. “I thought they would bring us home, that we would stop running. I didn’t know they… I didn’t know they stayed behind,”

“It’s alright, Neteyam. Spider is safe with your family and now, your grandmother is with us. Everything is as it should be,” Smiling at him, you lift his chin with your fingers, chuckling lightly when his ears twitch with embarrassment. “We should get moving so that we can see them again,”

“I would like that,” Neteyam smiles and you pull him close, giving the young man a hug. It seems it’s what he needs when he melts into you, his arms wrapping around you so tightly it almost borders on uncomfortable. Cupping the back of his head, you kiss the top. “You’re alright,”

Packing up, you’re on your way once more, soaring through the warm wind as the breeze of the Metkayina area greets you. It isn’t long before there’s nothing but sea around you and then, in the distance, the island groups of the Metkayina clans. The closer you get, the more horrifying the realization is that the villages you’re meeting are the very ones that the demon in your arms burnt to the ground. 

As you fly past the first one, you can see they’ve started to rebuild, but it’s a small comfort as you fly past it. The next two did not fare any better, until suddenly, there were no more burnt villages. Your confusion only rises as Neteyam guides you through the island tribes until you reach a huge smattering of seawall terraces, the pools beautifully glittering as the Metkayina people go about their day. Awa'atlu is beautiful where it opens up before your eyes, the sandbanks in the see-through water making a soothing pattern from the skies. 

Circling back to the seawall terraces, you call to announce your arrival, giving the people time to gather and collect themselves before you circle back, preparing to land. As the Tsahìk, you let Mo’at take the lead as your ikrans slowly descend on the furthest sandbank where the people have gathered. Cupcake follows Hawnu as he spreads his wings widely to make for a gentle landing, his powerful legs supporting you as he touches down, quickly tucking his wings back to make room for Cupcake to land beside him. 

Breaking tsaheylu, you scoot back on Hawnu’s back while getting the demon’s heavy legs off of your own. Balancing the huge man on Hawnu’s back, you slide down from your ikran, your toes curling happily as they land in the warm, wet sand beneath you. Leaning the demon to rest over Hawnu’s back, you step away from him to follow Mo’at’s lead, watching how Neteyam is waiting for you while Mo’at greets the people and the Olo’eyktan as he steps forward. But before you manage to finish your greeting, a voice that immediately makes your knees buckle calls from just behind the Olo’eyktan. 

“Mom!”

Chapter 14 | Masterpost | Chapter 16

#Ma Miles #miles quaritch x reader #colonel miles quaritch x reader #colonel quaritch x reader #colonel quaritch x you #colonel miles quaritch #colonel quaritch #miles quaritch #na'vi miles quaritch #recom miles quaritch #avatar miles quaritch #recom miles quaritch x reader #na'vi miles quaritch x reader #avatar miles quaritch x reader #avatar the way of water #Mech writes

[schro4444]

Idk abt pained but that anon's right!! There's just something about the way you draw kaito's smiles that feels like running headfirst into a brick wall - it's great!!

On that note though - I'm absolutely obsessed with the bit "he’s got an expression of scrunched-nose focus on his face that looks, for some reason, incorrect—like it’s not how his face actually looks when he’s concentrating, but the emotion underneath is the same. A mask of a feeling to obscure the same feeling, entirely purposeless"

because like! YES! That's EXACTLY it!! Kaito LOOKS like he's super expressive, emoting with his whole face and body, and then you just - get punched in the face when you realise, OH, he feels like neither him nor anyone could ever get out of the shadow his dad casts, OH, he DOES remember the clock tower meeting, this whole ringmarole was to save it, OH, he was trying to get Aoko to act more natural, OH, he was playing the fool at billiards (I GENUINELY doubted for a moment whether he Actually sucked at billiards or just cheated for the poetic justice)

It's a bit sad, to be honest, that Kaito can never put his masks down no matter what face he's wearing - even if it is his own. He said he's a fan of Lupin but imho he'd do well to reread the first book - there is a line there about disguises and ceasing to know yourself Kaito would do well to remember, bc I very much he's taking the time to rest, eat and become himself again between disguise and disguise.

THANK YOU!!! genuinely that’s such a huge compliment ajfjdhd

THANK YOU! AGAIN!! AND YES YES OKAY—I was going to say I have an essay on this, but I think ditto IS my essay, lol

BUT IM GONNA TALK ABOUT IT MORE ANYWAY!!! I won’t get into all of it now but Gosh I think so much about expressions. kaito appears to be an extremely expressive character, and it’s not that he Isn’t, but more that it’s Very intentional, like you’re saying—he’s a magician, he lives for misdirection, he’s always misdirecting and deflecting and reflecting.

moments like these Haunt Me!! he’s very clearly Being Kaito, enough that everyone around him believes him, but he’s also just… totally lying, in every single image. I really really want to capture the energy of these panels in writing and art, lol

LIKE. how good of an acting job did he do here that he managed to convince aoko that he didn’t want to see a magic show. lol.

THE POOL CHAPTER I think about that all the time. what an establishing moment for kaito. first of all because of what it reveals about how he is

(thank you toichi)

and second of all because I was also!!! bamboozled!!

the way he is portrayed when he starts winning in this chapter is Very interesting, because I feel like it comes across as kaito more,,, like,,, settling into the role. he’s not really actively trying to do anything, he’s following what he most naturally wants to do, which is somewhere between “be silly so that people don’t look too closely” and “I’d really like to see the people around me laugh and be happy.” once he starts being able to Perform, he succeeds. and yet we as the audience are still left doubting what really happened!!! kaito misdirects the audience just as much as any of the mk characters!

oooo I really need to read the arsene lupin books. but like YEAH! EXACTLY! kaito never really made space for himself to Not be acting. the closest he gets is with Jii, and maybe his mom. relevant to my OTHER ramble about how, in deciding to become kid, kaito ended up creating a character out of himself, a character that he Has To Be most of the time. and it’s WILD, because it’s a version of himself that’s fundamentally missing a lot of who he is, but nothing that anyone would actually know to miss.

#“kuroba kaito” just as much of a character as “kaitou kid” in the sense that kaito is both of them but neither are fully him #and yet he is always playing one or the other. #in this ESSAY I WILL!!! #ditto posting #im writing chapter 3 rn actually #dc #mk #schrasks

[kashi-prompts]

Title: Paper Lanterns

Prompt: Your first date with the Hokage and you’re feeling insecure.

Pairing: Kakashi x Chubby!Reader

Rating: T

A/N: Hi, I know this is super cringe fluff, but I hope you like it anyway lol <3

You always loved the way paper lanterns looked against an inky sky. The way the small flame danced eagerly behind the colored paper that sheltered it. Your eyes roamed over the rows of dancing flames hanging from a string above the Konoha street. Your hesitated on each one, admiring the novel designs of each.

“Hey,” you heard in front of you. The Hokage stood in front of you, his festival kimono hanging off his limp shoulders. His gaze was soft as he approached you, the smile behind his mask evident from the shadow on its fabric. Your pulse quicken at seeing him in this new setting.

“I’m sorry I’m late, I - “ he tried, but you waved a forgiving hand, standing up quickly. You knew all his lines. You watched for a beat as his eyes slid quickly down your figure, around its curves that were accentuated by the tie around your waist. You reached a hand in front of your stomach, shielding it.

“It’s okay,” you told him quickly, watching as two obsidian eyes swivel back to yours. “I was just admiring the lanterns. They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

He sensed how flustered you were, the thin skin around his eyes crinkling as his cheekbones lifted fondly. He looked away, assessing the hanging lamps decorating the streets. You continued to stare at him, your heart pounding in your rib cage at the site of him. Your first date together, you thought. How was this real?

"They are quite beautiful," he commented. He looked back at you, a twinkling in his eye that soon shut with an upturned soft smile. "Shall we see the rest?”

You nodded, holding your clasped hands at your waist as you took a step closer, following him down the bustling path.

“How was your day?” He asked thoughtfully, his hands shoved deeply in his pockets.

“Quite well,” you looked up at him, his shoulders square as an eye glanced down at you. “How was yours?”

“Better now.”

You walked beside him, feeling your body's proximity to him as the two of you casually strolled. It was so unfamiliar to see him out of his uniform. Without his usual Hokage jacket to cover him, you noticed how broad his shoulders were under the fabric of his Yukata. It felt strange to be so close to someone you saw every day, usually at a respectable distance. He didn’t seem to mind how your shoulders brushed against each other as you both walked.

You thought of the first time you had met him in person, the rush of blood that flushed over every inch of your skin as he had looked up from the stack of papers on his desk he had been endorsing to finally lock eyes with you. Your gaze had met and he had greeted you, waving a hand for you to enter the office and knocking over a stack of papers in the process.

“Is this our new secretary, Shikamaru?” He had asked, his tone serious despite how clearly rattled he had seemed. You had thought at the time that you had just bothered him at an inconvenient time.

“Has the office been busy without me?” You asked, looking over at him. “I’m sorry, by the way. I had that paid time off and-“

“Please, don’t apologize,” you heard him laugh lightly beside you, looking down at you. “The office will survive a few days without our best secretary. Barely, but they will. You deserve some vacation.”

You pressed your lips together, stifling a smile. “Thank you, Hokag-“

“Kakashi,” He corrected softly, his eyes meeting yours intently. “Here, you can call me Kakashi.”

“Oh,” you blinked, a blush creeping up your neck. “Yes, I - of course,” you spluttered.

A hand touched the small of your back, reassuring you. You blushed harder, looking up at him as you watched his eyelashes turn up in two crescents. “Would you like to get something to eat?”

“Oh yes,” you nodded, “I’m starving!”

“Me too,” he replied, his hand leaving your back. It’s absence left your skin cold under the silk of your kimono.

“What’ll it be?” He asked, assessing the street vendors that lined the walkway. “Ramen? Dango? Taiyaki?”

“Mmm, Taiyaki,” you groaned zealously, nodding your head. “We eat ramen in the office too often. Lets get something different!”

“Taiyaki it is,” He agreed, pivoting the two of you through a crowd of people. Around you, you could see sets of eyes hesitating on you a beat longer than usual. You looked over, watching two young women snickering close by as they stared at you. You looked away quickly, adjusting your weight to your other foot. You pursed your lips together, staring at the ground.

You knew you weren’t the quintessential version of a woman most men drooled over. Your hair was often too frizzy, and your waist a few inches too wide. You often tried to cover up your freckles that you had always loathed. Maybe you shouldn’t be here, you thought. The Hokage deserved someone more conventionally attractive to be in the spotlight with him.

“[y/n]?” You heard Kakashi say next to you, interrupting your thoughts and pulling you back to reality. “Everything ok?”

“Yes, sorry!” You composed yourself quickly, dismissing your thoughts.

“What flavor would you like?” He asked you. You blinked, realizing the cashier was waiting impatiently for your order.

“Oh, cream, please,” you responded, reaching in your pocket for some change. Before you could gather the correct amount, a small fish pancake was being handed to you.

“You didn’t think I was going to let you pay, did you?” He smirked at you, a teasing thin eyebrow cocked.

“I never thought I’d see the day, Kakashi,” you teased, your eyebrows raised. He laughed in response, shaking his head.

You smiled, your mouth filled with the delicious flavor of custard as you playfully pushed his shoulder, letting him know you were teasing him. A hearty chuckle emanated from behind the fabric of his mask - a cold, thrilling shock to your chest that radiated throughout your body at the sound of it. The two of you laughed together as you walked, taking bites of your dessert as you continued down the path. You never saw him bite his, but each time you looked over at it, another piece of the red bean paste dessert was gone, his cheek full as he chewed.

This felt normal again- the two of you bantering back and forth like most days in the office. Your friendship was hidden under a bed of hesitation and longing. But as he chewed on his pancake, looking down at you with a laugh, you felt your worries dwindle. Maybe this would work - maybe you could be an item. Maybe —

“Hokage-Sama!” Your playful laughs were interrupted abruptly. Turning around, the two young women from earlier bowed to their Hokage, giggles uncontrollably coming from the two of them. They were young, maybe 10 years your junior and clearly in their early twenties. Skinny. Clear, porcelain skin. Smooth hair. Youthful. Conventionally attractive, you thought.

“Ah, Yuki, Raoima,” Kakashi acknowledged the girls informally. He knew them? “Enjoying the festival?”

“Oh yes,” the taller one said, throwing her hair over her shoulder. “Very much so.”

“Are you, Hokage-Sama?” The other girl asked with a grin.

“I am,” he nodded, glancing over at you. “Thank you for aski-“

“When will you be coming into the shop for another tailoring session?” The taller one asked, her blue eyes glistening with anticipation.

“Oh, not for awhile, girls,” he smiled apologetically, “my robes are all set for now.”

“What about a new uniform? Some new shoes? The Hokage should always be dressed to impress!”

“I think I am good, ladies,” he replied with an awkward smile. He scratched the back of his head uncomfortably. You took another bite of your pancake, the warm custard dripping down your lip. You quickly wiped it away as the girls turned their gazes to you. You blushed in embarrassment.

“What about you?” One of them asked, their tone changing. They glanced between each other, exchanging a knowing look.

“You could use a tailoring session,” the other quipped, “that kimono is looking a little tight, don’t you think?”

Your ears burned.

“We could let it out for you, so it’s more comfortable! Especially with winter coming, people tend to put on more weig-“

“Thank you, ladies,” Kakashi interrupted curtly. His demeanor changed immediately. You felt a hand on your back again, this time snaking around your waist and pulling you to him protectively. Their spines straightened instantly, noticing the change in his tone.

“We will see you around,” he waved the pancake clad hand to them, ushering the two of you back into the crowd.

“Ugh,” you heard one girl sigh with intentional volume to the other behind you. “What a shame. She’s not even that pretty.”

You swallowed hard, tears brimming suddenly under your lashes as the Hokage continued to direct you through the bustling crowd.

How could women be so cruel to one another? Certainly, the Copy Ninja turned Hokage could take any woman in the village he wanted to on a date. You considered their words, thinking of how you could exit this date as soon as possible. But how would you face him in the office if you did? Would your friendship ever recover? How foolish you were for saying yes to him. He probably felt sorry for you. Asking you on a date to the annual lantern festival - knowing well you didn’t have a date. You should have just kept your relationship professional. You being his secretary and him being the Hokage. What an idiot you were.

Suddenly, you felt the tips of his slender fingers slid against your palm. You froze, feeling a rush of heat up your spine. Without further hesitation, his fingers slid between the spaces of yours, palms clasping together. He looked down at you, feeling your body temperature rise at the contact of his skin to yours. Your eyes met, and he smiled softly at you, his gaze holding yours a few beats longer than you anticipated.

“Would you like to go down to the river?” He asked, his tone soft. You swallowed, unsure of how to proceed with the evening. Had he not heard them? Shouldn’t he feel embarrassed to be with you?

“Sure,” you finally replied with a nod. You finished your dessert, taking smaller bites as you continued down the path towards the lantern filled river. You relished in the feeling of his hand on yours. The nip of the cool night chilled the tips of your fingers. Each time his fingers moved, you would feel the warmth from his hands against the thin skin of the back of your palms. Your feelings teetered from feeling sorry for yourself, to being completely enamored that the Hokage - your boss - was holding your hand.

Once you reached the river, you both found a grassy clearing on a slope to rest. The trees surrounding the small hill concealed you both from the citizens trickling towards the river. You pulled your knees up, flattening out your dress with your free hand as you watched the lanterns flow down the rivers current. You felt better being out of the spotlight.

“[y/n],” Kakashi began, his eyes watching the lanterns as well. “Do you consider this a date?”

You blinked, looking over at him quickly. You waited a moment, wondering if there was more to the question. Was this not a date? Was this meant to be something else? Why did he hold your hand? Confusion whirled in your brain.

“I - I —“

“It was my intention that this was a date. I’m sorry if I haven’t made it obvious,” he raised his eyebrows with a soft chuckle, looking over at you finally. “I thought my fumbling when your around made it clear of my feelings for you.”

You weren’t sure what to say, but you felt a familiar blush creep up your cheeks. Relief swept over you. His feelings?

“We work together every day, sometimes well into the night for over a year. I have gotten to know you and trust you as a friend. You are an remarkable woman, [y/n].”

You nodded, looking back at the river. Was this personality talk? The one you had gotten so many times before from men? “You’re funny” they would say, “and you have a great personality.” Closely followed by “but I’m not attracted to you.”

He squeezed your hand gently, urging you to look back over at him. You looked back over at him, his eyes scanning yours for any sign of response. The wind picked up, a chilled breeze weaving through the strands of your hair. A few fell into your face and you cocked your head to get them out from in front of your eyes. You felt him let go of your hand, reaching up and sliding his fingers across your temple, pushing the hair back behind your ears.

“I don’t think you realize how most people see you.”

“I’m sorry?” You managed with a laugh, tasting the cynicism on your lips.

“Boy, either your oblivious or I’m an idiot,” he laughed. “I knocked over my whole stack of papers the first time I saw you.”

You smiled softly, feeling your body melt. “I thought you were just clumsy.”

“No,” he shook his head, his voice suddenly somber. “You had me all frazzled.”

“The Great Sixth Hokage of the Hidden Leaf Village - frazzled by his new secretary?” You laughed, shaking your head incredulously.

“It’s true,” His hand snaked around your shoulder, pulling you close to him. You froze, your body rigid against the side of his chest. A beat passed.

“Is this ok?” He asked quietly. You exhaled, nodding your head. Reaching up, you placed a hand on his thigh, leaning your head against his shoulder comfortably. Your hands shook with adrenaline as you watched the lanterns float down the river.

“I’m sorry about what those girls said,” he finally spoke, “I can tell it hurt you.”

“I’m fine,” you waved a dismissive hand. “They’re right anyway.”

Immediately, you felt his hand on your jaw, urging you to look up at him. You complied, feeling your breath hitch in your chest at how close you were to him. His fingers were calloused, grazing the delicate skin of your jaw bone. Your eyes skimmed over his eyes, his nose, the frayed, pilled fabric of his mask. The light from the lanterns below illuminating his features. You thought your heart might pound out of its cage.

You never suspected the Hokage of such tenderness. Had he had lovers before? Or was it those books? The serious man you had grown to befriend took on a new light to you in the literal illuminance of the lanterns below.

“You don’t get it, do you?” He asked, his voice just above a whisper. Your body softened, fusing itself with the earth.

“Get what?” You asked, a weary smile playing across your lips.

“How beautiful you are.”

You swallowed, stunned by his words. You could feel the breath from his nose on your skin, your body flushing and your mind reeling. Before you could even think through the repercussions, you leaned up, pressing your lips firmly to his. You heard his breath catch, taken aback by your sudden boldness. You gripped his yukata, feeling him exhale against your mouth.

Pulling away, your eyes locked with his, his eyebrows raised so high they disappeared beneath his silver locks. Your grip lessened, wondering if you had gone too far. He blinked at you, his eyes swiveling over your face, over your freckles. Your vision pulsed, blood pumping against your ear drums like incessant tidal waves. He looked down at your lips, his silver eyelashes dusting the tops of his cheekbones.

A moment later, the fabric of his mouth was against yours, firmly pressing his lips and exhaling against you. You breathed in, smelling in his scent. Not just the scent that everyone smelled, the one that would linger when he would walk past you. This was his intimate scent, the one that mingled on to his skin - the one that dwelled on every silver strand of hair. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you towards him. Your senses mingled together, your body electrified.

A firework went off in the distance and you jumped away from him with a yelp. You looked over, watching the fireworks rocket into the sky and burst amongst the constellation of stars above the river. You exhaled, holding your chest as you caught your breath from being startled. You looked over at him, watching him exhale and shake his head, chuckling to himself.

“There’s two ways to get your heart pumping,” he laughed, rubbing his chest. Another firework launched into the sky and you heard the crowd audibly gasp at it’s beauty. You watched for a few beats, wondering how to proceed. Looking back over at him, he patted the area next to him. You smiled, nestling yourself against his shoulder as an arm snaked around your waist and resting on your stomach.

You pulled his hand away, feeling uncomfortable with where his hand was resting. Nonetheless, he pushed it back, resting just above your belly button.

“You don’t have to feel insecure around me - or anyone else for that matter, ” he murmured against your ear calmly, sensing your insecurity. Your eyes were fixed on the firework show before you, feeling him pull you closer.

“I already told you - you’re beautiful.”

#kakashi hatake #kakashi #kakashi x reader #naruto shippuden #hatake kakashi #kakashi x you