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star-sim · 3 months

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hopeless ☆ heeseung lee

☆ horrendously down bad! heeseung x fem! reader ☆ summary: absolutely no one would have expected the dark, brooding, and rough heeseung lee to be hopelessly head over heels in love with the sweet, oblivious you. especially you. even with the help of practically the entire year, it's almost pathetic the way heeseung struggles to utter three, simple words to you, let alone look you in the eye. ☆ genre: fluff!!! pining, SUPER WHIPPED HEESEUNG, high school! au, non-idol! au, a lot of 01 liner idols + the rest of enha make appearances, btw this follows the asian school system, SO MUCH FLIRTING OMG, heeseung is kinda pathetic and awk ☆ warning(s)? swearing and dumb characters lol, there is one SA scene, but it is not graphic + very minor violence ☆ word count: 10.8k ☆ this is extremely based off of "danger" by bts, especially the lyric "you're cute, and i'm pathetic" lol enjoy!

Heeseung Lee was stressed.

No. He was distraught.

Distraught about how fucking cute you looked today.

Ever since he was a kid, Heeseung loved Halloween, because he loved Trick-or-Treating with his older brother and cousins. However now, at the age of seventeen, he found himself resenting it. Not because there was any issue with the holiday, but because today was Halloween.

From across the classroom, Heeseung found himself staring, all dazed and empty-headed, at you, who was clad in your cute bunny costume. The way the fluffy, white ears stuck out from the top of your head, as well as the fluffy white coat draped around your shoulders, made you look so soft and cozy and adorable. The way your nose crinkled as you laughed with your friends, sweet sounds coming from your lips as you threw your head back.

Were you real? How could anyone be so goddamn beautiful and not be an actual angel sent from above? What country did Heeseung save in his past life in order to get to be in your presence in this life?

"Dude, you're staring," a new voice interjected.

"What?" Heeseung tore his eyes away from you. "I wasn't."

Beomgyu Choi was one of Heeseung's classmates. And, like everyone else in their year, Beomgyu knew how enamored Heeseung was with you. Other than yourself, of course.

"I'm tellin' you," Beomgyu plopped down onto his seat, which was beside Heeseung's. He slid his chair so that he would be closer to his classmate, before throwing an arm around Heeseung. "You need to make a move. Like, now."

Heeseung glanced over at his classmate. If he ignored the fake blood on Beomgyu's chin, as well as the fake, plastic vampire teeth and the god-awful Spirit Halloween Dracula cape, he'd know that Beomgyu was 100% correct.

Everyone (and seriously, everyone) knew that Heeseung Lee had the biggest, juiciest, most obnoxious crush on you. In fact, your own friends had even tasked themselves with the job of putting in a good word for Heeseung, saying things like "Isn't he so cool?" into your ear to hopefully guide you straight into his arms. It's such a well-known fact that some of your teachers have purposefully placed you and Heeseung next to or near each other in order to help him with his more-than-obvious crush.

With such a big, school-wide effort, it should be expected that at least some progress was made.

Wrong!

Not even a single stroke of progress has been made.

Probably because there was one teensy, weensy, eensy, problem: Heeseung was an absolute mess around you. Heeseung was known as this tall, blunt, and rough guy at school. When he wasn't silently judging everyone, he hung out with his group of friends, who had a reputation for being delinquents. Heeseung Lee, clad in his iconic black leather jacket, was intimidating, and usually had no problem speaking up for himself. But around you? Absolutely not.

If anyone thought that Heeseung Lee could easily speak to you, they were out of their goddamn mind. There were too many instances where your classmates would push Heeseung and you together, only for him to blow it because he was completely incapable of looking you in the eye without turning red.

In Heeseung's defense, you were the most beautiful person in the world— How is he not supposed to get nervous?

"You know I can't," Heeseung murmured, clenching his fists.

Beomgyu rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Hee. What happened to banger Heeseung Lee? Heeseung Lee that beats up kids? I didn't think you'd be scared of talking to girls."

"First of all," Heeseung frowned, "I'm not a banger and I don't beat up kids. And also, I'm not scared of talking to girls."

His classmate quirked a brow. "Really?" Heeseung nodded. "Because the last time I remember, you could barely get a word out in front of [Name]."

At the sound of your name, Heeseung jerked in his seat, reaching out to grasp Beomgyu's arm. "Shhhh, don't say her name so loud!" he hissed, eyes quivering over to where you were with your friends.

"What?" Beomgyu looked around indiscreetly. "It's not a secret to anyone how you feel about [Name]."

"Shhhh! Shut up!"

When the bell rang, everyone scurried to their seat, and class began. As Beomgyu tuned out the sound of the teacher's voice, he couldn't help but notice the way Heeseung's eyes were completely glued to you. It was almost laughable, the way the boy's eyes were wide, staring at you like you were some god.

Oh god, Heeseung Lee was hopeless.

"Heeseung-hyung, are you free tomorrow?"

It was lunch time. Heeseung and his friends liked to hang around the rooftop of the school, because it was always empty. And plus, no one wanted to be where Heeseung and his friends were— they were too scary!

Heeseung looked at his younger Australian friend, Jake Sim (or Jaeyun Sim, as his official documents stated), who had just asked that question. Heeseung took a bite of the instant ramen that they bought from the vending machine.

"Yeah, why?"

"Good. Because you have a date with [Name] tomorrow."

Heeseung choked. As he coughed, his other younger friend, Sunoo Kim, let out a whine.

"Hyuuunggg!" Sunoo pouted. "Why'd you tell him?"

"It was supposed to be a surprise!" Riki Nishimura, the group's Japanese foreign exchange student friend, added, elbowing Jake in the ribs.

"Whatever," Jake crossed his arms. When Riki nudged him again, Jake opened his mouth to holler, "Jay, back me up!"

Jongseong "Jay" Park was another one of Heeseung's friends, probably the closest person to him.

"You guys know Heeseung-hyung is going to fuck it up either way, right?" Jay said. "Remember last time?"

"Yeah," Sunghoon Park joined in. "No matter how much we prepared him, Heeseung-hyung still acted like a fucking idiot."

"I'm right here!" Heeseung shouted, still hitting his chest to dislodge the ramen that he choked on.

Jungwon Yang, the seventh person in their friend group, put a hand on the older boy's shoulder, his lips lifting up into a half-teasing grin, revealing sharp canine teeth, "Hyung, don't listen to them. I think you'll really impress [Name] tomorrow."

It was Heeseung's turn to elbow Jungwon in the ribs.

When Heeseung finally finished coughing up a storm, his friends were already onto another topic, making plans for the next weekend.

"Hey, hey!" Heeseung grumbled. "Aren't you guys going to explain this so-called 'date with [Name]'?"

"What's there to explain?" Riki said. "You're going on a date with [Name]. End of story."

The eldest of the group's face contorted. "What are you guys even saying—"

"Well, it's not technically a date," Sunghoon said, taking a sip of his juice box. "You're, like, hanging out with [Name] though."

That still didn't answer Heeseung's question.

"When? Where? What time?" he spluttered, eager for answers.

Jake huffed exasperatedly. "Do we have to explain to you everything? It's not that deep, man."

Jungwon rolled his eyes. "Hyung, [Name]'s friends are the presidents of the Environment and Ecology Club, and there's a social tomorrow. It's like birdhouse painting, or something. [Name] is attending to support her friend, so we signed you up, too."

"Birdhouse painting?!" Sunoo's features morphed into confusion. "I thought they were making bracelets?"

"No, I thought there were weaving baskets?" Riki frowned.

"Whatever it is, it sounds lame as hell," Jay remarked.

Jungwon rolled his eyes again, earning a punch on his arm. "Whatever it is, it'll be a great opportunity for you to talk to [Name]."

The younger boy offered Heeseung a reassuring smile, only to receive a pensive one in return.

When classes resumed, Heeseung felt light-headed and distracted the entire time as he processed the fact that he was going to be around you tomorrow.

Oh god, he sounded like a total loser. Did the mere thought of being in your presence make him nervous? Yes, yes it did. You were just so pretty and sweet, he had no idea what to do. Poor boy, his teeth dug into his bottom lip, clammy palms pressing into the underside of his desk. His knee bounced, and there was absolutely no way that he could even make out a single word the teacher was saying.

Heeseung was going to pass out.

"Hey, Heeseung?"

That's your voice. It was so pretty and nice on his ears. Was he in heaven? He wouldn't be surprised if your voice was the voice of an angel.

"Heeseung?"

Heeseung was convinced that he was in heaven now. What he wouldn't do to hear your voice every second of his life.

"Heeseung!" another voice interjected. That's what snapped Heeseung out of his daze. Too deep in his head, Heeseung hadn't noticed that the class period ended, and the short passing period had already begun.

At his desk stood Yunjin Huh, Minjeong "Winter" Kim, and... oh my god... you. The three of you had somewhat matching Halloween costumes: Yunjin was a gray mouse, Winter was a cat, and you were a bunny. And now that he looked at it, you all were holding a bag of candy.

While your two friends were giving him the"Are you serious?" looks, you looked at him with wide, kind eyes.

"Heeseung?" your beautiful voice said, fingers reaching into the candy bag that you were holding. "Would you like candy?"

He stared at you. You were giving out candy to everyone in class because it was Halloween... You're such an angel... What did the world do to deserve you...

Winter stepped on Heeseung's foot, snapping him out of his daze once again. The boy let out a small yelp in pain, and as the embarrassment settled in, he heard you let out a small giggle, lips raising up to show off your teeth.

Oh my god, he was going to die.

"Y-Yeah," he stammered out, cursing himself internally. Heeseung couldn't help but feel everyone in class's gaze glued to him. When you handed him a piece of candy, your hand brushed up against his. Heeseung could feel his ears becoming hot, the warmth rising to his neck.

You smiled at him, before saying in a sing-songy voice, "Happy Halloween!"

Heeseung had to force himself not to stare like an absolute fool.

He was really hopeless.

hee: jay i don't think i can do it tomorrow

It was 2AM when Heeseung texted Jay. He spent the entire night thinking about the "date" (probably the least necessary word at the moment), and he simply couldn't sleep.

Heeseung had embarrassed himself too many times in front of you. Like that one time you and him were on cleaning duty together, and he was so distracted by you that he tripped over a bucket of water. Or that one time he sat next to you for a few weeks and his shoes kept squeaking against the floor, making it look like he was farting. Or when he tried to look cool and suave in front of you at some social your friends invited him to only to rip a hole in his pants. And then what happened today... He could not embarrass himself again.

hee: like i think i'm going to die if she sits next to me tomorrow

It was only a matter of seconds when his friend texted back.

jay: you'll be fine trust

Heeseung frowned.

hee: stop lying to me

hee: you know how i am around her

jay: i believe in you

jay: like srsly

hee: that's blind faith

Jay typed for a little bit, before stopping altogether. Heeseung huffed. Did his friend just leave him on read? A few minutes later Jay sent a Wikihow article.

'How to talk to your crush,' it was aptly named. Heeseung deadpanned.

hee: are you being fr right now

jay: give [name] your sexy heeseung charm and you'll be walking off into the sunset hand-in-hand with her in no time

jay: read the article btw

How was this guy an actual person?

hee: kill yourself

jay: give her that passionate, sexy, boiling hot, hotter-than-the-sun, steaming hot heeseung that makes her just want to come up to you and give you the fattest, juiciest kiss on the mouth, i know you can do it soldier

hee: DIE

Heeseung couldn't sleep all night.

At school, the entire day was just plagued with anxiety for what was to come. It didn't help that your friends kept turning around and giving him knowing looks throughout the day. When school finally let out, Heeseung went to the classroom where the birdhouse-painting-bracelet-making-basket-weaving social would be held. His friends told him to go there the moment that school ended, but when he came, there was literally no one there.

Until someone yanked him into the classroom.

"Hey!-" he yelped, before the door slammed. In front of him stood two people that he recognized: Sumin Bae and Sieun Park, two of your friends who also coincidentally were the co-presidents of the Environment and Ecology club.

Sumin cocked a brow at him, crossing her arms. "I hope you're not as hopeless as everyone says you are."

Heeseung opened his mouth to respond, but Sieun cut him off.

"Ugh, that doesn't matter," she pinched her nose-bridge. "We told [Name] to sit near the front, so you better sit there, too."

"Right-"

Sumin cut him off, too.

"[Name]'s favorite color is pink, and her favorite Sanrio character is Keroppi," Sumin asserted. "And she really likes things that are cute, so like fruit patterns, hearts, stars, yada yada."

Heeseung blinked at them. "And this is relevant how...?"

Sumin and Sieun shared a look.

"You are completely hopeless."

As it turned out, they were giving him details about design-elements that you liked, so that Heeseung could somehow impress you with his birdhouse painting abilities (Jungwon was right, it was birdhouse painting). After info-dumping on him, they kicked him out of the classroom to actually prepare for the social.

As Heeseung was pushed out of the classroom, he bumped into someone. Just as he was about to say, "Watch where you're going," he realized that it was you.

"Oh, hi, Heeseung!" you greet him cheerfully, your eyes pressing into thin slits as you smile.

Quick! What does he do? "Hi... [Name]."

"Are you here for the social, too?" The way your eyes gazed at him made him feel shy already.

"Y-Yeah...."

"I didn't know you were interested in the Environment and Ecology club..." You remarked, and Heeseung panicked— Was it obvious that he was here exclusively for you?— but what you said next made him sigh in relief. "That's great! I'm so happy that I finally have someone familiar with me here!"

He's going to faint.

When the social began, you invited him to sit next to you. Heeseung felt stiff as he sat beside you, watching the way that you happily painted your small, wooden birdhouse. Heeseung wanted to start a conversation with you, but each time he thought of something to say, his voice caught in his throat. Sumin and Sieun had given him two dirty looks already, so he needed to make a move now or their efforts would be in vain.

"W-What's that?" he finally stuttered out, pointing to the glob of green on your birdhouse.

You laugh airily, leaning closer to him so that he can see it better. "Can you guess?"

Heeseung tries to concentrate on guessing, but it's hard when you're close to him. Quick! What's green and something that you like?

"Is that... K-Keroppi?"

"Yeah!" Your face lit up, flashing him a cheeky grin. You nudged him with your elbow, raising your brows at him playfully. "Awww, Hee, you smarty pants! How'd you know?"

Hee?

OhmygodohmygodohmygodyoucalledhimHee.

You stopped laughing, pulling away from him. "Sorry, do you not like being called Hee? Beomgyu sometimes calls you that, so I thought-"

"No, I like it!" Heeseung blurted, a little louder than he wanted to, earning a few questioning looks from people around him. The boy felt abnormally warm, embarrassed at his outburst. "I-I'm okay with you calling me that..."

"Noted!" you said, before your lips curled upward. "Now... are you going to tell me how you could tell that this green blob was Keroppi?"

"Oh uhm..." Heeseung's lips were moving faster than his head, "Y-You dressed up as Keroppi last year for Halloween with Yunjin."

Almost like you were a cartoon character, you perked up at his statement. "You remember?"

Of course he did. How could he forget? You wore a cartoonishly-big red bow around your neck like Keroppi, and had a green Keroppi-style headband. You looked adorable, especially when you went around showing off a Keroppi keychain that you got at the Cinnamoroll Cafe in Hongdae to anyone that was willing to listen.

Heeseung found himself chuckling. "Of course I'd remember your massive red bow."

You stared at him for a few moments, before a bashful grin broke out on your face. You then buried your face in your hands, letting out a groan. "Ughhhh, that's so embarrassing!"

"How?"

It's going good so far, Heeseung thought. Just don't mess it up!

You pouted cutely, your bottom lip jutting out. In the light, he could see the gloss shining off of it so prettily. "My makeup was so fucked up last year, ughhh, it looked so bad."

You? Look bad? Impossible.

"What are you talking about?" Heeseung asked, his doe-like eyes scanning your embarrassed face. "I thought you looked cute."

You stared at him. It took a few pulses for Heeseung to realize what he just said. His face instantly turned three shades warmer and panic was evident in his expression.

"I-I mean— You jus—You were really—"

He shut his mouth when you began laughing. Laughing so hard that you clutched onto his knee, keeling over yourself. His cheeks burned.

You're laughing at him, aren't you? Did he fuck up?

When you noticed the sulky expression on his face, you stopped laughing.

"Sorry, Hee," you said, giving his knee a reassuring squeeze. "It's just... You look so intimidating, when you're really just a sweetheart."

If Heeseung was red before, he was quietly literally the color of a tomato. It was a wonder that the entire room’s temperature didn’t rise given the sheer amount of heat radiating off his person.

"A s-sweetheart?"

"Yeah!" you happily respond. "You're just the cutest, y'know? Like a little puppy."

As much as Heeseung wanted to die happily now that you called him cute, he needed to keep this conversation going. Sucking in a sharp breath, the boy looked at you in the eyes. "W-Well I think the same about you... [Name]."

You looked at him curiously, so he continued, his voice soft and sheepish, "I... also think that you're the cutest."

You blinked at him a few times, before the widest smile that he'd ever seen spread across your cheeks, stretching ear to ear. If only Heeseung wasn't too busy grappling with his shyness, he'd notice the way you let out a soft, bashful giggle, shaking your head and squeezing your eyes shut to keep yourself from being too visibly flustered. Slowly, with all the courage that you had left in you, you raised your hand and placed it on Heeseung's head. You ruffled his soft locks, gushing, "God, you're so cute, Heeseung!"

The rest of the social is filled with soft chatter between the two of you, but Heeseung was honestly too captivated by you to notice the time passing. With his heart on his sleeve, and a sloppily-painted birdhouse in his hands, Heeseung mentally high-fived himself.

Heeseung's friends never heard the end of it. The moment that he got home, Heeseung spammed their groupchat, giving them paragraphs and paragraphs of the events that ensued.

hee: and then she called me cute. like CUTE CUTE, not even like she was alluding it, she used the word CUTE

hee: oh my god i think i'm gonna faint

His friends don't have it in them to flame him. After all, this was progress.

Unbeknownst to him, you were feeling the same things. Everyone knew that Heeseung liked you, except yourself. You had the opposite case: you've had the biggest crush on Heeseung since middle school, but never told a single soul about it. You're a naturally expressive and sweet person, so it was so incredibly hard hiding your feelings for him.

After all, under that handsome and brooding outer shell, you saw his softness. This past year, you've had so many miscellaneous interactions (at least, it seemed miscellaneous-- everyone but you knew that those interactions were set up) with Heeseung. At the beginning of each interaction, he'd act all mysterious, but as time passed, he'd speak so softly and slowly unravel.

It was so, so cute. Heeseung was so cute. To say you wanted him would be an understatement. No words were sufficient to fully express the nights that you stayed awake thinking about him, or the makeup looks that you intricately practiced to impress him, or the sheer number of times that you had to hide the fact that you were staring at him.

Maybe you couldn't hide it any longer.

"Wait, what?!"

Heeseung's heart dropped to his stomach the moment he heard the words leave his friend's lips. Chenle Zhong was one of you and Heeseung's mutual friends, and according to him, someone had confessed to you via a letter today.

"Are you serious?" Heeseung asked, pulling his bottom lip into his teeth, chewing pensively. "Do you know who wrote it?"

"Nope, but I'll try to get more info on it," Chenle frowned. "Yunjin says that [Name] laughed at the letter."

When Heeseung didn't say anything, Chenle continued. "Hey, man, that could be a sign, y'know?"

When Heeseung's face morphed into a confused expression, his friend added, "Like, maybe [Name] thinks it's a joke? Maybe she doesn't care for it."

That's what Heeseung hoped for.

Later, Chenle texted him a screenshot of the love letter. To say that Heeseung was appalled would be an understatement. The letter read,

'To my dearest [Name], you're as beautiful as the plum blossoms in the spring. Your lips are soft like pillows, pillows that I would love to fall into an eternal in. I love you, I love you, I'll love you until this paper decomposes and becomes a part of the earth, and maybe then they will be able to force me to forget you. Love, your admirer.'

Heeseung immediately sent it to his groupchat.

jakey: yo who invited shakespeare???

hoon: i had a stroke reading that

sunoo: "your lips are soft like pillows" is crazyyy

hee: chenle gave me updates, apparently [name] knows who the sender is

jay: AND WHO IS THE SENDER??

hee: i don't know

hee: but minjeong says that it's someone from class 2

niki: class 2 is full of snobs

jungwon: i'm still in shock because of "i'll love you until this paper decomposes"

hoon: WHAT IF IT'S JUNGSU HYUNG

niki: oh it's SO over for you heeseung-hyung

As it turned out, it was not, in fact, Jungsu Kim from Class 2, thanks to your friends, who were quite wonderful info-brokers. But he still didn't know who it was.

Laying in bed, Heeseung felt weight on his chest. You laughed at the letter. While that could mean that it was a joke, it could also mean that you thought the person writing the letter was funny... which could mean that you liked them back. Just the mere thought of you with someone else made Heeseung frown deeply. This entire time he was worried about how to act around you, completely ignoring the fact that you yourself could be interested in someone else! God, he was so stupid.

Heeseung needed to know who it was that sent it, and more importantly, if you were romantically interested in them.

Fear makes man do crazy things.

Like walking one's crush to school.

Look, Heeseung was mulling over the situation as he walked to school, when he saw you across the street, walking in the same direction as him. In what could only be called an adrenaline-high, Heeseung ran across the street up to you.

"[Name]!" he called out.

"Heeseung?—Oh my god!"

Poor boy was breathless, flushed in the face. It took him a few moments to catch his breath. Flashing you a grin, Heeseung said, "Let's walk to school together, [Name]."

You're silent for a few moments, before you return the smile. "Of course."

The walk was silent, only the sound of early morning traffic, footsteps against the concrete sidewalk, and the occasional sniffle courtesy of you filling the cold air between the two of you. Speaking of which, your sniffles began to get louder and more frequent. Now out of adrenaline, Heeseung was back to being shy.

Clearing his throat, Heeseung forced his voice out. "Are you— Are you sick?"

You sniffled again, bringing your hand up to swipe your nose. The two of you were at an intersection now, so you pressed the pedestrian button. "No, I just get sniffly when it's cold."

That's. So. Cute. Was what Heeseung was thinking. The way you were rubbing your hands together made you look so adorable, he just wanted to put you in his pocket.

He must have been staring at you for a while, back in his you-loving daze, because Heeseung did not notice that the streetlight changed, and it was time for the pedestrians to pass.

Not to worry!

Heeseung was completely kicked out of his daze when your smaller hand grabbed his, pulling him along the street. His eyes were glued to the two of your hands, especially where they connected. For someone sniffly, your hands were warm. He liked the way that they fit in his.

Even in the cool morning air, Heeseung suddenly felt warm all over.

You were in the middle of the sidewalk when Heeseung stopped. Feeling bold, he dropped his schoolbag, and began slipping off his thick, black, leather jacket, before draping it over your shoulders.

When you looked up at him with those curious doe eyes, all his boldness went away.

"Y-You're cold aren't you?" He avoided looking you in the eyes. "Just... Just take it. Y-You can give it back later... or whatever."

You giggled, slipping your arms into the sleeves.

God, you looked so cute in his jacket. Heeseung was going to melt.

And he did melt, because you began doing cute twirls to show off the jacket, posing for him.

"How do I look?" you cheekily asked, popping your leg up.

Heeseung was speechless, his mouth just left agape. He had to force himself to speak.

"Cute..." he answered, barely audible.

A grin was growing on your face. "Sorry, I didn't hear you. How do I look?"

Heeseung squeezed his eyes shut, huffing. "I said you looked cute!"

The sight of Heeseung's pink cheeks and his cute little pout was enough for you to be satisfied. Before the boy could realize what he said, you picked up his school bag for him, shoving it into one of his hands, before snatching his free hand. You pulled him gently to continue walking, but Heeseung was frozen in place, eyes too busy on you.

"Heeeeee," you elongated your syllables. You squeezed his hand twice, tugging him again. "We can't be late to class, can we?"

Heeseung audibly gulped. "Y-Yeah. You're right.."

You guys began walking again, neither of you wanting to let each other’s hands go.

"And then she held my hand— Isn't that crazy?! She held my hand!"

"Heeseung-hyung, please, I am peeing right now."

It was the lunch period once again. As Heeseung and Sunghoon traversed the hallways to get to the stairwell, the older of two chatted about the events that morning.

"So you held her hand?" Sunghoon asked half-heartedly, barely listening. "And then what?"

Heeseung perked up. "And then we walked to class together, and then she—"

"That's cool and all," the younger friend was walking in front of him. Sunghoon turned over his shoulder. "But did you get any more information about the letter fiasco?"

Oh.

No, Heeseung didn't.

When they reached the rooftop, his friends gently nudged him to get more information about the letter.

"You don't want to have one of those 'too late' moments, right?" Jungwon said, chewing on his rice ball. "What if by the time you gather the courage to talk to her, [Name] is already walking off into the sunset hand-in-hand with her secret admirer?!"

"What's with you guys and walking off into the sunset..." Heeseung muttered, running a hand through his hair.

"I'm serious, hyung!"

"I second that," Jay said lazily.

"I second that," Riki mocked in a squeaky voice, earning him a soft smack at the back of his head.

"Well, what am I supposed to do?" Heeseung asked, frustrated. "I can talk to her or her friends later, but not right now."

Jake scoffed. "What's stopping you from going back inside and talking to [Name] right now?"

The eldest boy didn't have an answer. That's true. There wasn't anything stopping Heeseung from talking to you right now. All the boys were now watching him for an answer, ready to pounce on him for being a coward.

"I don't know!" Heeseung finally said. "I've used up all of my bravery today... I don't think I have it in me to talk to her!"

His friends stared at him questioningly, until the silence was broken by Sunoo taking a loud and very obviously fake phonecall.

"Hi! Yes! Mhm. He's right here. Yeah. Mhm. Thank you!"

Sunoo hung up loudly, and looked at Heeseung with a cocked brow. "I was just on the phone with Yunjin. She says you should probably go talk to [Name]."

Heeseung looked at Sunoo incredulously, but the expectant expressions on his friends' faces made him groan.

"Fine!"

As Heeseung creeped down the school hallway, he came to the classroom that you hung out in at lunch: your homeroom. Standing outside the door, the boy took a deep breath.

Relax, it's just [Name], he had to tell himself, as if that helped at all. What was he even going to say?

'Hey, are you dating the person that sent you that letter? If you aren't, do you want to get married to me? Haha.'

????

Just as Heeseung was about to slide the door open, he heard a very familiar laugh from inside. Of course he could recognize it. After all, it was you.

"Yuri is so cute!" he heard you giggle. "She wrote me that little letter as a joke, but I think I'm actually in love with her."

In.

Love.

With.

Her.

"Awww, Yuri, come here and give me a kiss!"

Come.

Give.

You.

Kiss.

"I'm gonna marry you, Yuri!"

Marry.

You.

Yuri.

To Heeseung, everyone was an enemy. No matter their gender or class, the moment that he heard that you got a love letter, everyone became a suspect. It all made sense now. Yuri Jo, the 'Yuri' that you were talking about and to, was from Class 2. He knew that you and her were friends, but he didn't know that you were romantically interested in her.

Jungwon was right. Now you were going to walk off into the sunset hand-in-hand with her!

hee: guys what if [name] is already taken :(

jakey: what are you on about this time

There was something scary about a 6-feet tall guy mulling around and sulking all day, so luckily no one got in Heeseung's way as he brooded. Unfortunately, he felt his heart hurt whenever he looked at you. Almost cartoonishly, he'd turn away, close his eyes in dramatic pain, and pout. Although he acted a little bit theatrical, it was no doubt that Heeseung felt sad. He really thought he had a chance with you, and now he felt stupid.

Except, he was stupid.

But for a different reason.

"Jesus Christ, you're actually hopeless, Heeseung."

After school, your friends cornered him, somewhere where you wouldn't see. His friends were somehow in close communication with your friends.

"I can't believe you thought me and [Name] were actually dating!"

Heeseung scowled, crossing his arms over his chest, as he leaned against a locker. Before him stood Yunjin, Winter, Yuri, along with a few other of your friends, Hitomi and Minju.

"I don't know!" Heeseung huffed. "Everyone is an enemy to me—” he glanced at Yuri— “Including Yuri.”

Yunjin scoffed in disbelief. "You're insane."

Soooo... You weren't in any romantic relationship with anyone. Yuri sent you that letter as a joke, and you were just really close to her. Good.

"I don't know how I feel about this guy getting with our [Name]," Winter muttered to Hitomi and Minju, but loud enough for Heeseung to hear.

"Hey!"

"I know, he's a total dumbass," Minju grumbled back.

"Dude, I'm right here!"

Hitomi rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Well, are you free on Friday after school?"

"Yeah, why?" They always asked Heeseung that question when they had some crazy plan up their sleeve. Not like he was any better.

"Wellll," Hitomi began in a sing-songy voice. "[Name] really wants to go to that Cinnamoroll Sweet Cafe in Hongdae on Friday, but none of us are available."

Heeseung nodded slowly.

"I think it'd be a good way for you to get closer to her, dontcha think?"

And that's how Heeseung scored his first (unofficial) date with you

When your friends told you that Heeseung would accompany you to Hongdae, you almost jumped for joy. Almost. Friday couldn't come any faster. The plan was that you'd meet Heeseung at the train station at 4:30PM, meaning that you had a bit of time to change and get ready. You didn't want to get too ahead of yourself and call it a date, but oh boy did you want to.

What were you going to wear? What if you were too formal? Should you go for a casual look or something more put-together? You needed to impress him!

When Friday came, you practically ran home to get ready. You perfected your makeup, and put on your prettiest outfit. Spraying yourself with your signature perfume, you looked in the mirror. Hopefully, he'll like how you look.

At the corner of your eye, you spot a black, leather jacket. His black, leather jacket. Without even thinking, you slinked toward it, slipping into the jacket. It smelled like him, the faint scent of his cologne lingering on the leather.

With a final glance in the mirror, you left for the train station.

On the other hand, to say that Heeseung was nervous for the date was an understatement. His heart was about to fall out of chest. He changed into something more casual, made sure to brush out his disheveled hair, and reapplied his cologne. He came to the train station 20 minutes early, just in case something went terribly wrong. He glanced at his phone. For the date, he managed to get a hold of your number, for “communication purposes.” He’d wanted to text you all week, but didn’t have the courage to.

“Hee?” your soft voice calling his name got his attention. Behold, you standing there before him, all dolled up and pretty. This must be the sight he’ll see when he enters heaven, he thought.

“Hi,” he said, his eyes glazing over your face. You were so pretty. Did you dress up for him? He didn’t want to get ahead of himself, but the idea that you wanted to look good for him made Heeseung’s heart skip a beat. “You look…”

He didn’t mean to say that. You smile bashfully. “I look…?”

“So pretty,” Heeseung breathed. “You look so pretty.”

“Thank you,” you smile. Your fingers reach for the hem of his shirt, playing with it, which sends his heart racing. “Well, I think you look handsome, Hee.”

“Th-Thanks.”

The two of you stare into each other’s eyes for a few moments, and Heeseung swears that you’re looking at his lips. You spoke up, breaking the silence. “You notice anything about me?”

Heeseung grasped the collar of his jacket gently with both hands. “My jacket.”

“I was going to give it back to you earlier,” you begin, eyes trained on his lips, “But I think I’ll keep it for today, yeah? Since I look so pretty in it.”

“Oh fuck,” Heeseung cursed under his breath, loud enough for you to hear it and giggle. “Yeah, you can keep it for as long as you want.”

“As long as I want?” you purred, taking a step closer to him. Although it wasn’t clear to anyone else, you were a mess inside. Your heart was palpitating so hard that you could hear it in your ears. Your throat felt dry, and your hands were shaking with mere anxiety and excitement. “What about forever?”

Heeseung cracked a grin. “Do whatever you want. You’re pretty.”

If it wasn’t for the train announcement, you thought you would have kissed his pretty lips right then and there. Taking Heeseung’s hand, you led him to your train cart.

“Let’s go, Hee.”

The train is much more packed than you expected, but it was the beginning of the weekend after all. The trip from Gyeonggi Province to Hongdae should take no less than an hour. Unfortunately, because of the amount of people in the train, you and Heeseung had to stand for the majority of the time. It should have been uncomfortable, but it simply wasn't. Because you were with Heeseung.

Standing only a few inches away from the boy, your chests almost pressed against each other. You could feel his breath fan your cheeks. The both of you held onto the pole, hands barely brushing against each other when the cart shook against the rails.

At some point, the shaking was a lot more aggressive than it had previously been. Instinctively, your hand reached for his broad shoulders for stability. Likewise, Heeseung reached for your waist, holding you in place. You and Heeseung shared a long, drawn-out look, eyes getting lost in one another's, before you both avert your gazes shyly, muttering, "sorry." Yet, neither of you moved your hands from their newfound positions.

As minutes passed on the train, your eyes were glued to Heeseung, at least when he wasn't watching.

You loved the reddish blush that naturally decorated his under-eyes, and the natural corally red at tinted the tip of his ears. His glossy eyes and heart-shaped lips had to be your favorite feature of his, if not for his large, yet delicate hands, so gentle and soft.

You were deep in thought when you suddenly felt a hand creeping on your leg. Nimble fingers from behind, brushing up against the hem of your dress. From the corner of your eye, you saw an older man. He looked unkempt and scruffy, like a delinquent– but nothing like Heeseung. Heeseung looked much better than him.

The man reeked of cigarettes and musk. A nasty grin spread across his face as he peered down at your exposed legs. His hands creeped toward them again, now slightly pushing your dress up. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, your entire body stiffening. Your heart began to pound in your chest, your cheeks and skin feeling hot.

Panic overtook your system. Your once soft breaths became much shorter and quicker, inhaling and exhaling shallow air.

You’ve never been in a situation like this; you’d never wished, thought, or even considered something like this happening to you– why would you? You had no idea what to do, and were not at all prepared for this. The train was packed to the brim, this man was much bigger and stronger than you, and you did not know how to fight.

The hand moved past your skirt, now under it and directly in contact with your skin. The hand felt dirty, brushing against you. A small frantic whimper escaped your lips when the man’s hand squeezed your bare thigh. It was a small sound, barely audible in the vast bustle of the subway. However, someone did hear it.

Heeseung, doe-eyed and lost in his own world, immediately darted his eyes over to you the moment he heard a sound of discomfort.

When your eyes met, you could only signal helplessly. Your gaze was wide, pupils dilated, with fear and panic. Heeseung’s eyes narrowed, staring into your eyes for a moment before analyzing your expression. The way you were extremely tense and overwrought casted a sense of suspicion in his head, and your eyes that were seemingly pleading him made him think.

Help, your eyes said.

Heeseung’s dark eyes flickered from your face, to your entire body language, and back to your face, before he spotted a few, foreign fingers creeping around your leg area.

Your shifty eyes kept moving from Heeseung’s to the side, but now that he looked at it, it was like they were pointing behind you. And lo and behold, behind you was a musky pervert, who was shamelessly touching you.

“[Name]…” he whispered. His fists clenched, teeth gritting. He sucked in a deep breath, feeling anger build up in his stomach. You whimpered again in response. He brought a hand to ghost over your shoulder, pushing you very, very, gently to the side. “Move.”

He wound up his fist and sent the hardest punch he could muster to the man square in the jaw.

The man lurched back immediately, his hand moving far, far, away from you. A groan left his lips, his head being thrown back in pain. The man’s fall had pushed a few other people down as well. Other bystanders watched on in shock. Some took out their phones to record and take pictures, others to tell their friends.

You just stood still, leaning into Heeseung, whose fist was a faint red color. With a very careful hand, he brushed the lifted hem of your dress down, which had been messed with earlier.

The man quickly got up once he noticed the new and tense silence over the subway cart.

“Hey!” he shouted, pushing himself up from his downtrodden position. “You little punk, who the fuck do you think you-”

The train announcer called for the stop. Heeseung, ignoring the man, took your arm, pulling you out the door. Before he himself left, Heeseung landed a kick to the man’s crotch, muttering, “Fucking bastard.”

"W-Wait, Hee-!"

Heeseung was silent as the train doors opened, only pulling you along with him. When the two of you were far from the train, he finally stopped, turning to you.

"Are you okay?" was all he asked. You shifted uncomfortably at the thought of what happened earlier.

"Y-Yeah..." you played with the hem of his jacket sheepishly. "Thanks for what you did back there."

Heeseung jolted up at the mention. He didn't love using violence, despite his 'delinquent' reputation, especially in front of you. His hands joined yours at the hem of his jacket, shyly brushing up against yours.

"Next time," he began, beginning to play with the zipper, "I'll fight every person on that train so that you can sit."

You smiled softly. "You don't have to do that, Hee."

Heeseung slowly zipped up his jacket on you, meeting your eyes, before straightening out your collar.

"But I want to," he breathed. You gazed at him. His hands were still on the collar of the jacket, close to your face. You noticed the red smudges on his knuckles from punching the man on the train. You took that hand, opening it up, and nuzzling your cheek into it. You took his other hand. To Heeseung's surprise, you pressed soft kisses on his knuckles, rubbing them with your thumb.

"What are you..." his breath hitched when your eyes flickered to his, holding steady eye-contact.

You pressed one last kiss on his palm. "Thank you, Hee. Really."

"Of course, [Name]," he finally whispered. "Anything for you."

And so, your first date with Heeseung began.

The sweet scent of cinnamon and pastries hit your noses the moment you guys stepped into the Cinnamoroll Cafe. When you were seated, you took a look at the menu. So far, the date was going smoothly. Other than the run-in at the beginning, the chemistry between the two of you was sparking. The conversation was flowing, and if that already wasn't a dream come true, you kept touching Heeseung. On your end, you were practically vibrating in your seat with the sheer amount of excitement you had bubbling in you. You couldn't believe you were on a date with the Heeseung Lee sharing a strawberry banana parfait.

"Hee," you said, motioning him to come closer to you. He did, so you cupped his cheek, bringing your thumb up to wipe a stray piece of the parfait from his cheek.

"Oh-" Heeseung's face reddened. How embarrassing! Did you think he was a slob now? You only giggled, bringing both hands up to hold his face. You squished the boy's cheeks, laughing at the way his brows cutely crashed into each other.

"You're so cute, Hee," you said, playing with his cheeks. "The cutest."

That's all you, he thought. You're going to drive him crazy.

Or, at least he thought he thought.

Did he just say that out loud? Heeseung groaned when you threw your head back laughing, hiding his own face in your palms. You chuckled.

Feeling bold, you cupped his cheeks again. You leaned closer, holding his face close to yours. You kissed a soft and chaste kiss on his nose. You couldn't help the heat that rose to your cheeks as the boy flopped over the table, hiding his face in his arms. You ran your fingers through his hair comfortingly, cooing at his cuteness.

"You can't do this to me," Heeseung murmured.

You laughed. It wouldn't hurt to tease him a little more, right? You leaned down, giving the boy another kiss. This time, though, you kissed the top of his head.

"Hee, baby, you're just the cutest, you know that right?"

Heeseung combusted.

After the Cafe, Heeseung and you walked around the Hongdae Festival Street. By now, it was beginning to get darker outside, the air cooling down. It was cold, but to Heeseung, it was perfect, because now he had an excuse to hold your hand. As the two of you walked and talked, you enjoyed the sight of the lights and bustling street.

Suddenly, a new voice interrupted the two of you's conversation. Turning around, you saw two guys who looked around your age. They were holding a camera and a microphone.

"Hi!" they said, smiling. "We're interviewing couples in Hongdae, would you guys like to be in it? We’ll blur your faces."

Heeseung glanced your joined hands, then back at the two guys, then back at your hands, "O-Oh, we're not a coupl—"

You cut him off. "Of course, we'd love to!"

You flashed Heeseung a grin, squeezing his hand twice, almost as if to say, 'Just go with it.' His ears began to burn, his neck prickling with warmth, before clearing his throat. "Y-Yeah..." he squeezed your hand, "We'd love to."

The two guys cheered, turning on their camera. "All right, first question. How did you guys meet?"

"We went to middle school together," you were quick to answer. "I thought he was really cute, but we didn't start talking until this year."

You didn't know what the fuck you were saying. Was it risky to be so truthful for an internet interview, right in front of your long-time crush? Absolutely. But your heart was pounding so hard in your chest, simply waiting for Heeseung's response.

On the other hand, Heeseung's mind was in complete shambles. Were you telling the truth? The way you answered so smoothly with absolutely no hesitation made it almost seem natural.

"And you?" the interviewer asked. "What did you think about her when you first met?"

"I—" Heeseung's breath hitched. "I thought she was the most beautiful person I'd ever seen."

The way you glanced at him made Heeseung's heart feel like it was about to fall out. "I.. I still think that."

Your expression was unreadable, your lips pressing into a thin line. Then, a huge smile broke out on your face.

"Awww, Heeeee! I didn't know you thought about me like that!" You squeezed his hand again, and he squeezed it back.

"How long have you guys been together?" the interviewer asked.

"We just started dating!" You answered enthusiastically, a weird, surprised sound coming from Heeseung.

The rest of the interview went smoothly, with you mostly answering the questions. You quietly thanked the interviewers, and you and Heeseung were on your way.

Your words kept ringing in Heeseung's head.

Especially your answer to the question, "Why did you like him?"

You answered, "Because he's so perfect."

Heeseung? Perfect? He couldn't believe his ears! Were you telling the truth?

A calm silence fell over you and Heeseung as you walked the bustling streets of Hongdae. That question lingered in his mind, and before he knew it, his mouth was moving faster than his mind.

"Did you mean anything you said?"

His voice seemed to reverberate against the night air, ringing in his ears. You chewed on your lip. Then, you sucked in a sharp breath.

"Of course, Hee," you finally answered. "If it's you, I mean everything."

Heeseung sucked his bottom lip into his teeth, biting down so hard he drew blood. Once again, his hands found home on the hem of his jacket draped over you.

"Good." He couldn't meet your eyes, not with the knowledge that you meant everything you said. He forced his attention onto the hem of the leather jacket that you were wearing, too shy to look at you.

Heeseung only looked up when he felt your thumb pressing against his lip, eyes widening.

"Don't bite your lip too hard, Hee," you said, a smile in your voice. You thumb swiped against his lip, wiping off the small blotch of blood on it. "You'll bleed, and I'll have to kiss it better."

Heeseung's tongue darted out to swipe over his bleeding lip, brushing against your thumb. "What if I want you to kiss it better?"

"Well, then you better not keep me waiting."

His eyes flickered to your lips. He wanted to kiss them so bad. They looked so soft. What would they taste like? You liked strawberries— maybe they'd taste like that. When he didn't say or do anything, you changed the topic, unable to hide the disappointment in your face.

"Did you mean it?" You asked. "When you said that I was the most beautiful person you'd ever seen?"

"Oh my god, yes," Heeseung said under his breath, eyes still trained on your lips. "Always."

Another silence fell of you two, simply getting lost in each other's eyes. Maybe it was something in the Hongdae air, but Heeseung felt brave. His hand slithered to your waist, bringing you closer to him. When you slid your hands up his chest, resting them on his shoulders, Heeseung audibly gulped. Your faces inched closer and closer, until you could feel his breath against your cheek. You wanted to lean in and close the gap so bad. And you could tell that he wanted to, too.

Just as you were about to, however, the sound of a car honking and tires screeching interrupted you. Heeseung instinctively pulled away, his head whipping around to look at the commotion.

Oh hell no.

You were not going to let that stop you.

You snatched Heeseung's hand, before pulling him with you. You don't know how much you ran, or for how long, but you ran and ran until you found an empty alleyway.

You pushed him against the hard, concrete wall, a bit harsher than you expected too. Holding him by his shoulders, you put all your weight on him, caging him against the wall.

"You'd let me kiss you, right?" you rasped, out of breath.

Heeseung, also breathless, stared at you, lips parted.

"I thought I already said," he breathed, "Do whatever you want. You're pretty."

With that, you crashed your lips onto his. His lips were soft, a little chapped. It felt so surreal. The scent of his cologne made you feel dizzy. When you pulled away, it was evident that he was feeling the same as you were.

It was a chaste kiss, but the tension was so thick in the air. Somehow, that made it even more intimate.

"Wow..." was all Heeseung could utter. Under the moonlight, with you pressed up against him, you looked so goddamn pretty. Your face was illuminated with the pale light, making you look like an angel. Was he in heaven? Did he die yet? He wouldn't mind if he died right then and there, now that you (you!) kissed him. "Fuck, you're gonna kill me, [Name]."

"But you'd like it, right? Because I'm so pretty." The teasing tone in your voice would normally make Heeseung melt, but all he could do was grin.

"You know I would."

The rest of the night, you and Heeseung don't kiss anymore. Not because you guys didn't want to kiss, but because the adrenaline wore off, and now the both of you were shy. It was almost comical, the way both of you completely reverted back to your bashful and sheepish selves, barely able to make eye-contact with each other.

"Thank you for tonight, Hee," you hummed, as you and Heeseung walked to the train station, hand-in-hand. "I had a lot of fun."

He scanned your face. The slight curve on your lips (oh god, your lips, the way the corner of your lip had a smudge of lipstick from kissing him earlier —how badly he wanted to kiss them again) was contagious. "Of course. I had a lot of fun, too."

The train ride back was quiet. You eventually began dozing off, resting your head on his shoulder.

"You did what?!" was the collective reaction of both you and Heeseung's friends. After that Friday together, you called together all of your friends to your house, to spill the beans. Likewise, Heeseung forced every single one of his friends into his living room.

"Ouuu, you little flirt!" Yunjin exclaimed. Currently, Yunjin, Winter, Hitomi, Yuri, and Minju were seated on your bedroom floor, while you dramatically flopped around on your bed.

It was now that you explained to your friends your long-time crush on Heeseung, much to their pleasant surprise.

"And then what happened?" Minju asked, filing her finger-nails. "Did you profess your undying love for him?"

You groaned into your pillow. "I can't!"

"Why not?" Winter quirked a brow. "You guys literally kissed."

You let out another groan. "What if he doesn't like me like that?"

Your friends deadpanned.

Heeseung Lee didn't like you. He loved you. They would know better than anyone.

"[Name], honey, you're overthinking it," Yuri nudged you with her foot. "He gave you his jacket. I think that says enough."

"Well, what if I'm just getting ahead of myself and he's just being nice?"

"Girl..."

Heeseung had a similar reaction.

All of his friends stared at him like he just punched their grandmothers.

"You can't be serious right now, hyung..." Sunghoon said, pinching his nose-bridge.

All of his friends were piled onto one couch, while Heeseung laid out on the one across from them, almost like they were in a therapy session.

"What if she just thinks I'm a good friend?" Heeseung used his hands to speak, theatrically moving them.

"What makes you think that?" Sunoo asked incredulously.

Heeseung groaned. "[Name] tells Yuri Jo that she wants to marry her and they're good friends."

"Okay, and?"

"Well," Heeseung huffed. "What if [Name] kissed me because she sees me the same way that she sees Yuri?"

"Well, I'm good friends with Jungwon-hyung and I don't kiss him," Riki said matter-of-factly.

"Right..." Jungwon nodded his head slowly. "Hyung, do you really think a good friend would pin you against a wall and kiss you?"

"Do you think a good friend would kiss you three times and then call you cute like a bajillion other times?!" Jake chimed in.

"Let alone choose to keep your jacket?!" Jay sounded tired.

Heeseung clasped his hands together, thinking for a few moments.

"Yes."

All of his friends groaned in defeat.

"You're hopeless."

After a lot of urging and cross-communication between friend-groups, both of your friends managed to convince both you and Heeseung to confess to each other the next Monday.

"What if I faint the moment she says my name?" Heeseung catastrophized to Jay in the school bathroom.

"Uh, I doubt that, hyung."

Heeseung texted you to meet him under the stairwell, and that was when he was going to confess. On your end, the moment that he texted that, you decided that you'd confess to him then.

When the time came, Heeseung headed out to the stairwell. His hands were clammy, and even when he wiped him on his uniform pants, he couldn't stop the trembling of his hands. What if everyone was instilling false hope in him? Gosh, Heeseung thought he was going to throw up. His stomach was churning, he was going to collapse if he saw you right now—

"Hee?" Your voice broke him out of his internal spiral. Seemingly, there was a halo around you, a light so bright that Heeseung was blinded.

"H-Hi," he stammered, straightening out his posture and clearing his throat.

Your hands were clasped behind your back, leaning forward toward him. "You wanted to talk to me, yeah?"

Heeseung couldn't bring himself to meet your gaze, his shoes suddenly becoming interesting. "Y-Yeah..."

The hallway where the stairwell was located was beginning to feel stuffy. Heeseung had never felt so nervous in his life. He was light-headed, barely able to even balance himself.

"Hee," you reached out to touch his arm, noticing his discomfort. "Let's go outside, okay?"

Going outside should have helped him cool down, but when you shrugged on his leather jacket to combat the cool air, Heeseung realized that there was no way in hell that he was going to get through this confession without dropping dead.

The two of you walked around the school yard for a few minutes in silence.

How should he start this confession? He had Sunghoon and Jake write out a script for him, and he spent the entire night memorizing it, but now in your presence he couldn't remember a single word. Should he have written a letter like Yuri Jo? Heeseung couldn't possibly contain himself.

"Hee," you finally said, disrupting the silence. "I have something to tell you."

Heeseung's mind wandered to the worst case scenario.

You're going to tell him that you're moving across the world to marry the love of your life, aren't you? You're going to say that he's a great friend and that you just got a boyfriend, right?

No, he needed to tell you his feelings first! If he didn't now, he'd never, and he'd burst into a million pieces!

"M-Me too!" he blurted, stopping in his tracks.

You blinked at him, then smiled.

Oh, no! It's actually happening!

He could already hear your voice saying, "Hi, Heeseung, my boyfriend just proposed to me and you're invited to the wedding."

You sucked in a breath, parting your lips to speak.

He needed to tell you first! The little demons in his head kept replaying the scene of you asking him to be your groom of honor at your wedding with the love of your life next Saturday. He could hear the marriage officiant announcing, “I now pronounce you husband and wife” at your wedding, and he imagined himself sitting in that little wedding venue holding back tears.

Oh my god, he needed to say it now, or he'll never say it ever!

"Hee, I really--"

Heeseung cut you off. He squeezed his eyes shut, hands balling into fists.

"I like you, [Name]!" he yelled.

You stared at him in disbelief. Or were you flustered? Heeseung couldn't tell. With too much adrenaline in his veins, Heeseung threw away all the preparation and drafted scripts he and his friends made for this very moment.

"I-I.. I like you so much, I'm scared that I'm going to explode!" Heeseung continued shouting at you. He had no idea what he was saying. All he was doing was telling you the thoughts he'd had about you all this time. "You're so, so, so pretty and I can't believe that you're an actual, real, physical, person, and you make me feel so fucking stupid, I can't take it."

Your eyes were bulging out of your head at this point, your jaw dropped.

"I've never liked anyone like I've liked you, a-and I just wanted to tell you this before you... you go off with someone else!"

Heeseung kept his eyes shut when he was done confessing, letting out a labored breath. There was no way that he could face you. The silence that fell over the two of you made Heeseung's heart sink to the bottom of his stomach. He squeezed his eyes in embarrassment. He gripped the hem of his shirt to relieve the bubbling anxiety inside him. Gosh, he was going to puke.

After a few moments, nothing happened. You didn't say a word. Did you just leave him there standing? Of course, you did. You were probably too kind and angelic to outright reject him. He was a fool to think that he had a chance with you—

Heeseung heard footsteps, and before he could react, he felt a pair of lips on his.

His eyes shot open.

You.

Were.

Kissing.

Him.

!!!

After he confessed!

Poor boy was so stiff, eyes wide.

Did that mean you liked him back?

You pulled away.

Usually, you had a reassuring smile on your face by default. Even during times where you were embarrassed, you almost never showed it on your face.

But this time, your entire face was painted with a flustered expression. Your cute lips jutted out in a mini pout, while your eyes were glued to the ground, avoiding his gaze.

A few pulses passed.

"I... I like you, too... by the way," you murmured.

Another few pulses passed.

You. Liked. Him.

Nonononono wait, was he dreaming?

You.

YOU.

The beautiful, angelic you.

Liked him.

Without thinking, Heeseung stepped forward, gently grabbing your face.

"You're real, right?" he breathed. When glossy eyes stared back at him, Heeseung felt warmth spread across his chest. Your lips looked so appealing right now, he was craving them again. "I'm not dreaming, yeah?"

You blinked at him a few times. The corners of your lips quirked upward.

"Why, because I'm 'so pretty that you can't believe I'm real?' " your voice had a teasing tone in it, referencing his earlier confession. Heeseung chuckled, letting go of your face so that he could slide his hands to where they belonged: around your waist.

"Just kiss me," he mumbled, looking at you with lidded eyes.

You grinned. "Gladly."

With that, you smashed your lips onto his. Instead of the chaste, soft, kisses that you shared earlier, this one was different. You shoved your tongue into Heeseung's mouth, exploring all its crevices. Poor boy was so surprised that he squeezed your waist, letting out a small whine. The feeling of you smirking against his lips gave him butterflies.

You finally pulled away breathless, but gave him no time to breathe. You grasped his chin, giving you easy control.

"You drive me so crazy," he murmured against the shell of your ear.

You pressed a kiss at the juncture between his neck and ear. "I drive you crazy?" you cocked your brow.

"You," you muttered. You began pressing kisses down his jaw.

“Drive.”

Kiss.

“Me.”

Kiss.

“So-”

Kiss.

"Fucking-"

Kiss.

"Crazy."

Before you could pounce on him with more kisses, Heeseung, red in the face, flopped over you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. He let out a cute groan.

"What, are you getting shy on me?" you teased him, running your fingers through his hair. He shook his head against your shoulder, making you coo.

"I can't believe you like me back, that's all," he mumbled, muffled by your shoulder.

You laughed. "How? I feel like I was so obvious."

Heeseung looked up at you with pink cheeks, frowning. "You don't even want to know how hopelessly in love with you I was."

You quirked a brow at him.

"Yeah?" You pecked his forehead. "Try me."

Heeseung let out a breathy chuckle. He attacked your lips.

"How about I show you?"

FIN.

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated :)

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen fic #heeseung #heeseung x reader #heeseung fluff #heeseung imagines #heeseung enhypen #lee heeseung #star-sim #vanya writes

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hannieehaee · 5 months

Text

them accidentally ditching you on your bday - vu

hhu, vu, pu

content: angsty, gender neutral, established relationship, etc.

part 2

wc: 4537

a/n: thank u to the people who requested this <3 so sorry its so longshdkks pls lmk if u want a pt. 2 with a resolution. not proofread btw </3

masterlist

jeonghan -

jeonghan wasn't a big drinker by any means. sure, he enjoyed the occasional drink with his friends, but it wasnt much of a habit. being a member of seventeen, however, it was quite often that he found himself around alcohol. quite a few of his members enjoyed sharing drinks with one another whenever their schedules allowed. jeonghan, being jeonghan, would always join them, enjoying nothing more than to be around the company of his most loved ones. unfortunately, during these instances he was also away from you, seeing as drinks with his friends tended to be right after work, just before he arrived home to you. this would cause him to make his way into your arms later than usual on the days his friends dragged him away to a pub. you didn't usually mind this, only occasionally pouting at him when he'd come home a bit later than usual without texting you about it beforehand.

today was one of the many days in which jeonghan had found himself at a discreet pub in seoul, accompanied by none other than mingyu, seokmin, chan, seungcheol and joshua, who were all pretty heavy drinkers whenever the mood struck them. jeonghan had prior plans today; it was your birthday tomorrow, so he knew he needed to get home at a timely hour in order to allow you to fall asleep in his arms as your birthday celebrations began. those plans were, however, slightly interrupted by the insistence of a choi seungcheol who adored jeonghan's company and insisted he tag along, even if only for a little while. jeonghan didn't see any harm in this, knowing he didn't have much of a tendency of getting drunk at these gatherings. he could easily make an appearance for one or two hours before excusing himself to go find refuge in your arms.

except that did not happen.

jeonghan wasn't sure how events had turned this way. he had lost most of his sense of self five shots in (what the hell was mingyu feeding him?). he began to go in and out of consciousness, still being aware of his surroundings, but not having many more thoughts past that. the one thing that did manage to slip his mind, however, was his plan to go home to you before the clock struck 12, as it was now 1 in the am. he had fully disregarded his phone too, too distracted with his friends to notice the vibrations on the table.

he woke up the next morning at about 12pm, insane headache and in familiar surroundings. it was joshua's house, he was pretty sure. and he wasn't alone. seungcheol and the rest were also located in different areas of the living room which jeonghan had awoken in. how did he even get here, he wondered. must've called a cab last night. but wait, his phone was out of battery last time he checked it. must've been one of the boys then.

none of these things mattered to jeonghan right now, so he simply got up and charged his phone, heading to the kitchen for a glass of water as he made conversation with joshua, who was the only other member awake at the moment. as soon as his phone charged, jeonghan headed over to grab it, immediately noticing a total tally of 19 notifications, all from you. had something happened? you didn't tend to message him so much. he immediately worried, hurrying to open the messages.

turned out he was right, something had happened.

it clicked almost immediately, with the tone of your texts expressing varying emotions as time progressed, and the date above the messages confirming his suspicions; it was your birthday today, and jeonghan was hung over at his best friend's house. he had no idea how he'd been so irresponsible. he knew he'd be a bit later than usual, but he was so sure he'd still make it home to you before midnight. but that had clearly been wrong. jeonghan dreaded it, but he decided to call you, to at least assess if your mood was as sour as the messages showed.

you picked up within three rings, immediately voicing your concerns at him.

"jeonghan? are you okay? you didnt come home last night," okay, you were worried about him! that was a good sign, right?

"i- angel, i'm so sorry. i'm okay. time got away from me and i ended up blacked out at shua's. shit, i'm so sorry, angel. i'll-"

"were you just drinking the whole time?", you paused, sighing before continuing, "you couldn't even message me or anything? you ditched me today of all days to get black out drunk with your friends? are you serious?", you paused again, not giving him enough time to respond, "you made me spend my birthday worried you didn't make it home. with no communication. jesus christ, jeonghan ..."

"angel. fuck. i'm so fucking sorry. i'll come home right now. it's still your birthday! let me make it up to you, yeah? i'll do whatever you want, just-"

"you know what, han? ... just stay there. we can do this some other day. i'm not really in the mood right now. i'll call you later today, okay? love you."

"wait, angel, no. just let me-"

he wasnt able to complete his sentence, as he was met with a beeping sound, informing him the line was disconnected. he stood there dumbfounded at what had just happened, not knowing how to react.

"man, you're fucked," chuckled joshua, who had heard the whole conversation.

yeah, he had fucked up big time.

joshua -

today was a terrible day. well, no. it was an amazing day actually. it was your birthday. it shouldve been an amazing day. except due to uncontrollable circumstances, your boyfriend joshua had to be away from you for the entirety of the week. there was an award show going on overseas, in which your boyfriend and the rest of seventeen had to be in attendance.

he had planned a beautiful day for you, really. he had wanted to spend the whole day with you, tending to your every need. he was going to wake you up with breakfast - prepared by himself, of course. then he would take you out to a secluded restaurant to ensure privacy. he had even planned to give you a serenade (he knew you would just call him corny, but could be be blamed for being in love?). he had communicated all this to you as he lamented his sudden absence to you a week before the day of his departure. you had accepted it, being touched by the mere thought. he'd promised you he would still be with you on your special day. although the award show was that same day, he promised to come back to the hotel as soon as time would allow and provide you with his company even if it was only through the phone.

and now it was that time. seeing as he was in japan and you in his home back in korea, there was no timezone to worry about. you'd simply have to wait at home for him to return and give you a call. it was now 6pm. it was understandable he would still be busy. you knew he had packed rehearsals all morning, so his only chance to call you would be later in the night. he had still sent you a few messages congratulating you on your big day and reminding you to be ready for him at around 8pm.

it was now 8:33pm. you had expected him to be a bit late, so you didn't mind it. the award show had been live, and it had ended at around 7:30. however, you knew it would likely take him a while to get ready and to get back to the hotel. so you waited patiently, knowing your boyfriend to always stand by his word.

it was at 9:33 that you began to worry. you had already sent him a few texts, not wanting to bother him in case something was going on. you pondered about texting his members just to make sure everything was okay, but decided against it. you didn't want to be pushy.

it wasn't until the clock hit midnight that you'd given up. by then you had already called a few times, only being met by his voicemail. at 12:18 you called his manager, knowing that was your last resort. the response you received was disheartening to say the least. he had informed you that your boyfriend and his group had been taken to an after party, claiming it had been a last minute thing, but that they'd all seemed pretty enthusiastic about it. you decided not to voice your annoyance to joshua's unsuspecting manager, instead choosing to go to sleep, sad and dejected.

the next morning when you woke up to 28 messages and 5 missed calls from joshua, you turned off your phone, disregarding him in the same way he had you. happy birthday to you.

jihoon -

despite popular belief, jihoon was not as emotionally constipated as he seemed. he was a great boyfriend, always making sure you felt loved and tended to. you were always one his top priorities, so he would do his best to spend as much time with you despite his packed schedule. you were also one of the only people who made him want to clock out at the end of the day, knowing you'd always be home waiting for him with open arms. jihoon, however, still had the tendency of sometimes holing himself up in his studio. during these periods of time, jihoon would cut off most contact from the outside world, being hard to reach for a few days as he stayed over at his studio without ever making it home.

this week was one of those times. jihoon never really scheduled these occasions. they'd just somehow end up happening whenever he had a spurt of inspiration, being able to conjure an entire series of songs he believed would perform well together. he liked to keep things organized, after all. any time he disappeared for over 24 hours, you could safely assume he was in his studio, not even allowing himself the simple pleasure of going on his phone to message you. for entertainment, he would sometimes allow himself some anime in between work, but not much more than that. he'd still leave the studio occasionally to show up to dance practice and such, but he would not interact with anyone other than his members, his manager, and maybe some staff if need be.

he knew this might be a bit too much, but it was all part of the creative process. as of today, it had been three days since he had left the hybe building, having given his manager full control over his phone as he wished to remain as productive as possible. he knew that one single text from you and he'd haul ass back home, too lost in the bliss of your presence to get himself to do any work. he missed you, of course, but this was not your first rodeo. the two of you had gone through this before, and it seemed like you accepted his weird work habits, having never complained nor shown discomfort over them. which was why he was quite shocked upon finally exiting the building four days later and calling you up in order to finally check in on you, but not finding the usual response.

the first thing he did as soon as he got his phone back was he call a few times, but he had received no response, which was quite strange from you. he knew it was kind of hypocritical to expect an immediate response considering he had gone off the grid for a few days, but he also knew you were usually free at this hour, so he had expected the usual reaction in which you'd jokingly curse him out for ghosting you followed by an invitation to come over.

he decided then to open his imessage, choosing to instead text you and maybe check in on any of the notifications that never arrived due to having kept his phone muted and away from his reach for the past few days. that was when he realized his grave mistake.

from: my love ❤️‍🩹

(sun) baby

(sun) babyyyy

(sun) where are you? i thought u were gonna sleep over tonight? did u forget about tomorrow?

(sun) okay i called u and ur not picking up im gonna assume ur busy. ill call u again tmrrw then. gn hoonie <3

(mon) okay i gave u most of the morning but its 12 now ... i assumed you'd come back yesterday night. are u at the studio?

(mon) are u rlly holed up there today of all days?? we talked about today last week.

(mon) baby :((

(mon) i dont wanna bother u. take ur time. call me whenever ur done i guess :(

that was when your texts had stopped, two days ago after you had seemingly realized he did not have his phone on him. he also noticed a few missed calls from you during those two days, halting upon the second day of no responses from him.

it had not clicked at first, until he noticed the date above the first text, detailing a day before your birthday. the rest of the messages were sent on the date itself, stopping that same day at his lack of response. the realization made jihoon stop in his tracks. how could it have slipped his mind? not only had he forgotten but he had literally left you in the dark during your special day, even continuing his lack of contact for the next two days. his spiraling thoughts were interrupted by you finally calling him back, something that filled jihoon with hope that you weren't angry at him.

"jiho-"

"baby, i'm so fucking sorry. i swear to you it just slipped my mind. i'll go home right now and make it up to you, i promise," he interrupted you before you could say anything.

you paused before responding, "jihoon. was work that important? was i that easy to forget? i respect your job, but you decided that day of all days?"

"it wasnt on purpose! baby, please just let me- let me come over and i swear we can have the day together. ill take off tomorrow too. the whole week! im so sorry."

"im ... im not really in the mood to see you right now, hoonie. it's been three days. i thought about just barging in your studio, but i didnt want to be that type of person. i had the stupid hope that you'd show up, that it wasnt that easy to just disregard me, but i was wrong. clearly."

"baby ... im so so sorry. i .. i'll give you your space. can i .. can i see you tomorrow then? please?"

"i'll call you to let you know, okay?"

jihoon held his breath at this, but quietly accepted your request, "i .. okay, baby. i love you."

"yeah, love you too," except your tone was cold, followed by the beeping of the phone, signaling the call had been disconnected.

seokmin -

many people knew seokmin as the embodiment of boyfriend material. or that was at least what many of his fans called him. in reality, he was even better than what cameras showed. he was the nicest, most respectful boyfriend imaginable, always providing you with everything you could ever need and more. he'd come home with flowers on a regular basis, he'd call you every single day to check in on you. he'd make you breakfast any time he had to leave before you, wanting to make sure you were well fed before a new day. he'd go above and beyond on any and every ordinary day in order to show you his utmost affections for you. don't even get you started on your birthday, which was a national holiday in seokmin's eyes. a day dedicated exclusively to celebrating the birth of his beloved? sign him up! nothing beat a day in which he could freely express all types of love towards you. he was over the moon every 365 days, knowing his favorite day would come again and again.

he had a huge day planned for you this year. there was a carnival in town, so he had planned to grab his manager and sneak out there with you for an hour or so before taking you back home. he also planned a cute moonlit dinner out on his balcony upon arriving home. it was all perfectly romantic, just like every other of his gestures towards you. he had the day marked on his calendar, only counting down the days until it finally arrived.

unfortunately for you both, your birthday landed on a work day for seokmin, who actually worked every day, really. but it was fine! seokmin had planned around that. he had his regular rehearsals plus a public appearance at a fashion show in the evening, along with a quick appearance at the afterparty, but after that he was all yours. he had to stay at the dorms this past week, having an extremely packed schedule, but he had made sure to text you a huge good morning paragraph detailing his love for you and how thankful he was you were his (just usual seokmin behavior, to be honest).

the fashion show had passed by quickly, having only taken a few hours. the after party, however, had been dragging a bit. it was now 6:04pm. he had promised you he would be home by 6:30, giving you enough time for the quick outing he had planned, plus a romantic dinner afterwards. he knew he still had time, but he was still worried he might not be able to follow through with his plans. the last thing he wanted was to be late. he currently had no way to communicate with you either, as his manager had possession of his phone while he was in such public schedules.

he lingered a little, making conversation with anyone he knew. there were many familiar faces, with a majority being that of actors who were also ambassadors of the various luxury brands at the event. he even saw a few actors he had been dying to meet. he felt badly at having such a good time while you were at home probably awaiting his return, but that thought left his mind as soon as a few of his musical performer friends approached him, engaging him in conversation. if there was anything seokmin was, it was overly friendly. he never said no to a conversation with friends, always being the energy maker in any and every relationship. however, it was easy for him to lose track of time and space whenever he found himself in conversation with friends, which was how time once again got away from him.

seokmin hadn't realized time had escaped him so quickly until his manager came up to him, quietly interrupting seokmin's lively conversation with his friends to inform him that his phone had been vibrating nonstop. fuck. he completely spaced out. checking his phone, he realized it was now 8:47pm. how had time passed by so quickly? he wad a bit buzzed, but he had no idea how he got caught up in conversation for so long. it was now too late to take you to the carnival, but he could still make it home for the romantic dinner. yes, okay. everything was fine. or at least that's what he thought until finally reading the 10 unanswered messages on his phone (while wincing at the 6 unanswered calls, also from you).

from: my love 😍

(5:32) cant wait for tonight baby <33

(5:32) i even bought a new dress hehe hope u like it ;)

(6:38) baby, are you gonna be running a bit late? it's fine, no rush! just pls let me know so i dont worry haha

(6:49) minnie ... is everything okay?

(7:14) minnie :(( are you coming soon?

(7:45) okay i called u a few times now ... do you not have ur phone on you? idk ur manager's number baby idk how to reach u rn :(

(7:53) they close the carnival at 8, i guess thats not happening anymore is it

(8:16) its so unlike u to keep me in the dark like this. i checked ur location and ur still at the event .. im assuming it ran late?

(8:23) its mean of u to keep me unaware of whats going on minnie

(8:35) okay nvm. u can just stay there. ill see if one of my friends wants to go out. goodnight.

the messages kept getting worse the more he read. he couldn't believe it slipped his mind like this. he planned it for weeks, even adjusting his schedule for it. and now he had ruined it all just because he felt like catching up with some friends.

he wasnt sure what to do. he had kept you in the dark all night, not even letting you know he wouldnt have his phone on him for a majority of it. he knew this was just an accidental slip of his mind, but that still didnt remove the way he hurt you. all he could do now was run home and await for your own return, hoping that you'd understand his mistake.

seungkwan -

such an outgoing guy like seungkwan always had high demand. they did call him the energy maker for a reason. his presence would always light up a room, which was one of the things you loved most about him. you'd met him in a very public setting, being able to witness first-hand how well he got along with, well, everyone.

however, his outgoing personality did come with some faults. due to having such high demand among friends and colleagues, it was sometimes a bit difficult to share seungkwan. yes, he was not yours per say, but he was your boyfriend. you liked to think you had special privileges that gave you exclusive access to his company that not everyone else had. and you did. seungkwan always gave you top priority when it came to sharing his time. he'd always let you know how much he cared for you, always babying you and tending to your every need. there was nothing in this world he loved more than you, his beloved, which was why it was easy for him to put everything aside whenever necessary.

now, you were not one to hog your boyfriend. you never wanted to be that person who insisted on having access to your boyfriend 24/7, nor would you ever want to keep him away from his friends. it was with this mentality that you had let your boyfriend know it was fine if he had previous engagements on the day of your birthday, letting him know that you'd be more than happy that day as long as he came home to you for a nice night together. he'd informed you that he'd be done with work that day at around 4pm, letting you know that he'd pay a quick visit to some of his 98-liner friends afterwards before going home to you. he had apologized to you for the bad timing over and over again, telling you that this was the only day they all had a day off all at once and would not be able to to gather for a few months after that. he'd insisted he would be quick, wanting nothing more than to head back to you as soon as possible. you'd assured him it was okay, being happy he'd be with you on your special day at all.

so now you were waiting. you'd spent part of the day with friends and family, not having seen seungkwan since the prior day due to his stay at the dorms this past week. you didn't mind this, though, as you were used to occasional separation due to his career. he had sent you a message in the morning, wishing you a happy birthday and once more confirming he'd be back home soon, prepared to celebrate your day. when it became a bit later than the time you'd agreed, you decided to continue to wait, not wanting to be pushy while he was with friends. when it became a lot later than the time you'd agreed, you decided to message him. but your messages went unanswered. you then began to call, receiving no response. it went like this until around 10pm, when you had finally chose to just change into your pajamas, only to be interrupted by a call from the man himself.

"baby! i'm so sorry, i just got your messages. i lost track of time, i swear! eunwoo and mingyu called me up while i was with my friends, and they were on live, so i had to go or else it'd look bad. don't be mad at gyu! he had no idea. i was supposed to just stay for a bit, but the live kept on dragging. i swear im on my way right now, i'll be there in-"

"kwan," you sighed, "not even a text? i dont understand. i didnt want to be pushy but .. today? i cant even lie to you. i'm disappointed."

"baby .. i'm so sorry. i completely spaced out. it's totally my fault. i got too caught up with my friends and then when mingyu called, i was too buzzed to even think straight. i- im sorry. i love you. please don't be mad," you could hear him pout from across the line, a bit frantic as he explained.

you sighed again, frustrated since you did tell him it was okay for him to be with his friends, but still sad he had forgotten you so easily, "i'm not mad, kwannie. just sad. i wish you'd called me to let me know you wouldnt be here at all today."

"but i will be! i'm heading there right now, baby, i swear!"

"i dont ... i dont think i wanna do anything anymore, kwan. im sorry," you felt childish and immature, but you really did not want to see him right now. you knew your emotions would only get the best of you. having your boyfriend choose to be away from you on your birthday was beginning to get to you.

"oh," he paused for a beat before continuing, "i- i understand. can i ... can i come over tomorrow morning, then?"

"you have work tomorrow. you have work every day, kwan. you dont have to-"

"please? let me see you tomorrow?"

"i- yeah. okay. i'll see you then."

"thank you ... happy birthday, my love. i love you. please dont forget that."

"love you too, kwannie," you felt sad as you said it, but you knew you still meant it. you just needed to sleep on it to ease the disappointment. or so you hoped.

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corollaservant · 24 days

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Hate Me (18+, jealous/paranoid f!reader, multi, smut in a tub, nip piercings, song inspo, image creds)

it was awkward to fight with him on vacation. it meant you had to be silently staring at each other across the spa’s private bathtub he had booked. he was on the other end of the tub and huffed in annoyance, his hands wet, the towel and phone away from his reach as you were coldly staring at him for the past 20 minutes. the fight occurred because the waitress had flirted with him while you took your breakfast this morning and he had obviously flirted back. Ok maybe he hadn’t, you certainly thought he did though. He always had that pretty smile on his face, always appreciating the hotel and tourist service people and well..he seemed very popular among the staff.

‘’i literally told her thank you, babe’’ he exhales as he rolls his eyes. you’ve been having this debate for some time now and while he wants to explain further, he fears there is nothing more to elaborate on.

‘’there was no reason to smile like that?’’

‘’like what?’’ he raises his voice, it’s absurd he thinks.

‘’you know exactly what I mean. i know damn well you didn’t give the same smile to that lobby boy yesterday’’ you slightly realize the argument is dumb, childish really, its point barely holding up against him. he is used to this and doesn’t mind, in fact most times he thinks it’s cute in a twisted way, your emotions show too easily. the problem is this time he senses you’re more serious about it and wants to end this quickly.

‘’baby’’ he sighs. ‘’i promise, there was no thought behind it, okay?’’ he smiles as he opens his arms signaling for you to come close.

‘’it’s always the same excuse with you. last time, you didn’t remember whose likes you were in, then it was the lady giving you free chocolates and adding a heart to your coffee cup-’’ you continue. ‘’we both got coffees that day!’’

‘’this is getting out of hand.’’ he replies, his voice is composed, like usual but the tone is firm. ‘’i can’t keep arguing like this, you keep testing me, measuring my love when you know that I love you. i show it every fucking day so what's the fucking deal?’’ he is annoyed and angered, you can tell by the way his eyes flicker, if they were laser tags and you his target, they'd burn through your frontal lobe.

he was always the 'de-escalator' in such situations, you’d spout some unserious accusation, he’d provide logical feedback and you’d end up either mute, huffing in annoyance or fucked dumb. in this instance he chose to splash water in your direction, playfully but not too much. the action obviously annoyed you and in an attempt to defend yourself you splashed him back vigorously but he ducked his head underwater as you felt his arms grab your waist. he reemerged and brought your body close to his, quick reflexes leaving no room for resistance- he always managed to have you on his territory, never the other way around. his toned back was pressed against the cold tiles as your bodies were hardly separated, the only thing between you both water and bubbles from the somehow turned on jacuzzi button.

‘’i really fucking hate you’’ you whisper against his face, his hands sealed around your waist as you float underwater, pushed back and forth on his torso, your tiny bikini top touching his chest ever so slightly.

‘’you don’t mean that and you know it’’ he coos, bringing you closer, so close that you have to wrap your legs around him (or at least open them up to fit, you justify) so that you’re resting atop him, a poke teasing under your bikini.

‘i do’’ you state but his fingers have already started trailing your back, which makes you unwillingly shiver as he moves them towards your hips, placing both palms on your ass and squeezing hard.

‘’then why don’t you show me how much, huh?’’ he breathes on your neck, rubbing himself against your entrance. since you’re in water, you sense the direct contact, your soaked bikini feels bare against his strained trunks and you softly moan.

‘’I- will not–be having–’ you are being cut off by his lips on you as he pushes you further down on him, chest on his naked torso and he grins.

‘’not what? sex with me?’’ he smirks. he wants to taste your delicate skin, he can’t stop thinking of your tits in that tiny bikini top, spilling and revealing your nipple piercings by default. ever since you got them pierced he could see them hard almost 24/7. he slides the top to your sides and grabs a handful while his other hand guides your lower back to grind against his erection, the feeling’s overbearing and you moan, needy for more but still pissed off he slowly wins you over.

‘’doesn’t look like it’’ he continues, as he puts the softness of your fat in his mouth, his tongue swirls around the nipple piercing and he swallows; metallic and sweet, just how he likes it.

‘’baby..ah p–please..’’ you mewl, his tongue feels too good but you’re always so impatient, always wanting to get fucked before he can tease and since you started this petty fight, he thinks he might as well enjoy it a bit longer.

‘’what is it sweetheart?’’ he inquires, diverting his attention to your pouting face. he has perfected his oblivious stare and concealed it so well, he knows exactly what's up but wants to get it out of you.

‘’please..continue’’ you give in, a consistent ache pools below you and he wants to smirk but doesn’t allow himself.

‘’oh?’’ ‘’but i thought you hated me?’’ the words linger.

‘’I do’’ you sigh and now he smirks. ‘’ but I- i ..that doesn’t mean i don’t want you to continue’’ you shamelessly admit.

‘’is that so?’’ he already knew how this would end up.

he moves his hands towards your core, it doesn’t take long for him to sense how wet you are despite the surroundings as he trails his fingers up and down your cunt. he slides your tiny bikini to the side, you look cute he thinks, tits flush with the top shoved out the way and wide eyes looking at him- anticipating.

‘’i see you’re being very obedient now, how so?’’ he teases as he pushes two thick fingers in your core, they must fill you up well because he notices the way your mouth parts and your grip tightens on the back of his head.

‘’i.. don’t..know’’ you respond weakly, as he continues his rhythm, kissing your mouth, fingers building up your orgasm. he knows you too well by now, he knows exactly how to work his way into your cunt.

he has patience; has always been a patient man but that patience can be worn thin and he doesn’t want to waste time. he figures overstimulating you back at the hotel room sounds more practical, he has more space and toys to use on you. plus he is slightly annoyed by the hotel spa room, not only for sanitary reasons but because he can’t feel you to the fullest.

he exits his fingers moments after he picked up the pace and your moans became more frequent; one hand on your waist still in his embrace as he lets his cock spring free underwater. with zero delay he pushes your hips down on him, having run the tip across your clit, earning him a moan that made his cock jump. he doesn’t break eye contact so with that in mind he admires his dexterity for a second.

you gasp loudly as you feel him entering you and he hushes you.

‘’be a good girl and be silent for me, please’’ he whispers but not as composed as he'd wish for as your walls have him trapped inside you, the pleasurable sensation highlighted by your hands gripping with small force the roots of his hair. it’s not strong, he smiles– but he appreciates the effort and it makes his cock twitch so he’ll take it.

he thrusts upwards and notices the way your mouth parts and legs tremble shortly after so he guesses he hit your g-spot. he’s filling you up well, the way his palms move your hips up and down, the water pressure and his gaze solely on your face make you grasp around him tightly, he intoxicates you and he unfortunately knows it.

‘’..i ..agh– hate ..you..’’ you murmur against his mouth, eyeing him up as you fall to pieces with each tantalizing thrust, you know you’re gonna come soon, he has you angled is such way that besides his cock pushing deeper and deeper, he brings your body so close that your clit touches his skin, applying extra pressure on your poor entrance. He can feel you on him, it drives him wild.

‘’i didn’t catch that’’ he says, ‘’would–you–repeat?’’ cock thrusting without relent to the tempo of each word as you bounce on his face and arch your head back.

‘’i.. said.. oh fuck. baby- i said i ..hate–’’ you cut yourself off when you feel your orgasm take over, it starts from your hole (or maybe your clit, you can't bother to care) and spreads throughout your whole body as you tremble and tighten around him, his pace never faltering.

You look so pretty when you come undone, he thinks

‘’ agh shit I hate you too baby.’’ he hisses and cums with a loud groan inside you, load shooting deep in your core as he moves to his own rhythm, digging his fingers in your hips and panting against your neck.

‘’so fucking much.’’

Geto, Gojo, Nanami, Toji (give him some credit), Dazai, Fyodor, Tecchou, Aizawa, Hawks, Chrollo, Levi + ur personal favs!

#jujutsu kaisen #geto x reader #gojo x reader #nanami x reader #toji x reader #dazai x reader #fyodor x reader #tecchou x reader #aizawa x reader #hawks x reader #levi x reader #corollaservant

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staytheword · 1 year

Text

on my mind

on my mind — one shot request by anon [ masterlist ]

• han jisung x female reader.

• non idol au. roommates to lovers. mutual pining. drinking, mention of weed consumption, explicit language, explicit smut.

• smut warnings (spoilers ahead) — porn watching. handjob. oral sex (m receiving). thigh riding. fingering. use of "baby" pet name. protected sex.

• word count: 8.6k

You and Jisung are stressed over your upcoming exams. You need to clear your heads, but you can't find anything that works. That is, until Jisung suggests watching porn together.

• the prompt was friends "using" each other to take the stress out... I hope this will fill your expectations!! ♡

You slam your book closed, an annoyed sigh escaping your lips.

You can’t do this anymore.

You’ve been studying for hours. In fact, you’ve been studying for weeks preparing for those exams. Your eyes are about to melt, your body aching to move from your chair, your brain desperately seeking distraction. You’re sick of this. Sick of stressing yourself out, sick of only allowing yourself to think about what is in these books. The exams are still several days away and you’ll have time to fall back into your anxiety - for now, you deserve a break and you are going to take it.

Or you’re going to try.

It’s not the first time you tell yourself that - take a break, you deserve it. You close your books and computer, full of resolve, and escape the confines of your room. Each time you end up just pacing the apartment, unable to focus on the movie you’ve put on or the game you’ve started. Once you made it outside for a walk, but you had no idea where to go and ended up walking in circles. Your brain is so preoccupied with your exams you can’t do much else. You wake up and it’s all you think about - and before you know it you collapse on the bed, exhausted.

As you hear someone knock on your door, you blink and realize you’ve been phasing out. You shake your head, slide a hand through your hair - it has gotten too long in the past few weeks - and clear your throat.

“Come in,” you say, your voice a little rusty.

Jisung pokes his head in from behind the door. “Hey. You hungry?”

At least you are not alone. Jisung is going through the same thing as you, so you promised each other to do what is necessary to stay sane. Remind the other to eat, for instance, and then eat the meals together, even if it is in complete silence. You’re also very open about your stress, and you force each other to go out or clear your head. If he wasn’t here, you have no idea how you would get through this.

You hadn’t been sure about becoming Jisung’s roommate at the beginning of the year, but you didn’t regret your decision at all. Some of your friends had raised an eyebrow at you rooming up with a guy, but you trusted Jisung. You resembled each other in a few ways, but were different enough to keep the other on their toes. He was honest, hardworking, but also funny and open-minded. He bought your favorite snacks at the grocery store. He listened to you talk about your difficulties with building your thesis statements. He read your essay drafts and made useful feedback. He made fantastic homemade pizza. He was the best at impressions. He liked to braid your hair. Once he even restacked the pads when you were running low - that day you almost fell in love with him.

Almost.

You just had a stupid crush. Who wouldn’t? Jisung was not only kind and attentive, he was also incredibly handsome. Wavy dark hair that shone in the sun. A heart shaped smile that grew so big it swallowed your entire soul. Golden skin that was soft to the touch - you knew from applying a mask on him once. Wide shoulders, a lean and athletic body. You saw him do push ups in his room sometimes, or using the stationary bike you had in the living room. He wiped the sweat off his brow and gave you a smile, nodding his head to the beat of whatever song played in his headphones.

But Jisung was your friend, first and foremost. Right now, and up until your exams, he was also your ally, your lifeline. You remember, a few weeks back, when you both sat down in front of a bowl of soup and intertwined your pinkies.

We get through this together, you said.

Together, he repeated, his eyes deeply set in yours.

Now he smiled gently at you, his mouth a thin line, his eyes wide open but red and glassy from exhaustion.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “I can cook something, if you want.”

“That’s ok, I got you,” he smiles. “Why don’t you rest? I’ll get you when it’s ready.”

You feel something tug at your heartstrings. “Thanks, Ji.”

With the sweetest smile, he gives you a little nod and disappears, carefully closing the door behind him. You breathe out in the silence, glancing back at your books. You could study a little while Jisung gets the food ready, but you are tempted to listen to him and lie down. A few minutes with your eyes closed couldn’t hurt.

You drag your feet to your bed, which is luckily not very far, and make the mistake of going under the covers. Your sheets are soft, your comforter heavy. The dim light in your room and the muffled noises of Jisung getting busy in the kitchen are so soothing you slip away quickly.

You wake up to a hand gently stirring you - you sit up in a jolt, blinking confusingly.

“Shit, what time is it?”

It feels like it’s been seconds and years. It’s definitely darker now, and your eyes are puffy with sleep, your skin a little tingly. You recognize Jisung’s silhouette in the darkness as he chuckles.

“I’m sorry to wake you up,” he whispers. “But you need to eat. Then you can go back to sleep, yeah?”

“R-right. Yeah. Okay.”

You throw open the covers and get out of bed, not even thinking about the fact that your hair must be a complete mess and your cheeks puffy with sleep. Jisung has seen you in worse states, anyway. You grab a hoodie as you follow him out of your room, one of your socks half slipped out from your foot.

“It smells really good, Ji,” you comment as you head to the kitchen.

He turns his head back to you with a smile. He’s wearing a red crewneck, gray sweatpants, and his slippers. You haven’t seen him out of such outfits recently, except for a few nights when he got dressed to go somewhere, but even then his style is always baggy. It’s for this reason you will never forget the one time he got dressed up for a date and wore a tighter shirt. That and the number of times you’ve seen him shirtless, of course. But that’s a whole other issue.

“It’s nothing fancy,” he says, gesturing to you to sit down at the kitchen island.

There is an actual table in the dining area, more than large enough for the both of you, but you rarely sit down there to eat. It usually serves as a storage area for random things like folded laundry, groceries, board games or books. Both of you prefer the kitchen island, perching atop the stools that you can twirl to your liking. Half the time you eat there, the other in the living room in front of the television.

Catching the sight of your hair in the kitchen window, you pull your hoodie on the top of your head and look down at the plate Jisung places in front of you. It is nothing fancy - pasta with creamy sauce, with chopped green onions sitting on top of it, but it smells absolutely delicious and makes your stomach growl.

“I think I’m drooling,” you state, glancing up at him. “I am so hungry, fuck.”

Jisung laughs, sitting down next to you with his own plate. “Parmesan?”

“Yes, please.”

He sprinkles some on your plate, and then on his, before you both start to eat in silence. There’s music playing on the speaker, a song you don’t recognize, and you ask Jisung about it. He tells you about this new band he’s discovered, and you quietly talk as you devour your plates. The sauce, smooth and peppery, is making your taste buds dance, and the food gives you a lot of energy. As you eat, the conversation gets more lively, and you suggest making coffee for dessert. Jisung agrees, and after you insist on doing the dishes first, he says he’ll wait for you in the living room. You hear the familiar song of a game he likes to play and get started on the dishes. As you put down the clean dishes in the drying rack, you sigh.

A nap. Homemade food. Jisung’s smile. All of these things reassure you, and make you feel peaceful - so why is there such a tight knot at the bottom of your stomach? Why can’t it go away, even for just a few hours?

You should study again after this.

Drink your coffee with your nose in your books.

You’re wasting valuable time.

You shut your eyes tight, taking a deep breath as you dry your hands.

When you sit down on the couch next to Jisung, near the edge of the cushion, not getting too comfortable, you put down his mug of coffee on the table and keep yours in your hands. He shoots you a quick glance.

“Thanks.”

You just smile back, a feeble attempt for one, but Jisung catches it. He glances back one more time, frowns. You wish you weren’t that easy to read. You wish you could take a deep breath and smile and he would believe it when you said you were fine. But you’ve never been very good at that.

Still, Jisung says nothing. He pauses his game, turns the spoon in his coffee mug to mix in the milk. You just stare at yours, the black coffee almost staring back.

“I should…” You hesitate for a second, then shake your head. “Yeah, I should get back to it.”

You stand up quickly, hoping to be able to run away before Jisung says anything, but you feel his fingers close around your hand. You look down at him in surprise. He looks at you with wide eyes, looking confused and maybe even slightly annoyed.

“Right now?” he says. “I thought you’d get some rest.”

“I did,” you shrug, nibbling on your lower lip. “There’s too much to do, and…”

“Y/N,” he stops you, shaking his head. “You need to take a break. We need to take a break.”

You part your lips to retaliate, but Jisung removes his hand from yours and pats the couch.

“Sit down, please.”

His voice is low, a little rusty. You swallow, your mouth dry. If only your chest didn’t feel so empty, your heart would be pounding in your chest.

“I know you’re anxious,” he tells you softly, playing nervously with his fingers. “I am, too. But aren’t you getting tired of, like… just stressing out?”

You chuckle a little bitterly, looking at Jisung. The light of the television reflects on his skin, mixed with the orange glow of the lamp. The circles under his eyes are dark. His lips are chapped. His nose is still a little red from the cold he had last week. You feel a pang of longing.

“Of course I am,” you sigh. “But we just have to get through it, right? We just need to make it there.”

He nods. “I know, but I’m scared of what we’re losing in the process. It can’t be healthy to just study all the time like we do.”

“What do you suggest, then?”

He shrugs, leaning back into the couch. His hoodie skirts up his stomach a little as he stretches his arms. You catch a glimpse of skin, of an abdominal muscle. It almost makes your brain glitch.

“I don’t know,” he breathes. “A distraction? Just for one night.”

When he sees your hesitation, Jisung quickly continues.

“I don’t mean dressing up and going outside and being social. Just the two of us, I mean. We can watch a movie, play games… get high.”

That makes you smile. “We don’t have any more weed since the cookie disaster.”

“Fuck, that’s right,” he laughs. “But it doesn’t matter. We just need to clear our heads, y’know? Think about something else. Be in denial about the exams. Like they’re not even going to happen.”

You take a deep breath, still hesitant. Your heart desperately wants to say yes, but your brain is holding back. The voice in your head, telling you you shouldn’t. You don’t want it to whisper your guilt back to you all night.

“Please, Y/N,” Jisung suddenly adds. There’s something in his voice that catches your attention. Sadness. Despair. “I don’t want to do it without you. We said we’d go through this together, right?”

You shake your head, staring down at the pinkie finger he is now holding up between you. He’s playing with your heartstrings and he knows it, but you don’t blame him. It’s working too well. There’s not much you would refuse him, anyway - but you don’t tell him that. Instead you smile and wrap your pinkie around his.

“Okay,” you say softly. “Let’s be in denial together.”

Jisung grins and you laugh, hitting his arm.

“It’s not fair that you used the wounded puppy eyes, by the way.”

“I would never,” Jisung says, shaking his head.

You take a careful sip of coffee, which is still a little too hot, but the warmth feels nice in your throat. Jisung grabs the second controller and presents it to you.

“You want to join?”

Although you are not very good at this game you agree, because you figure it will be a good way to start off the evening. As you pound on the buttons and try not to get Jisung killed in the game, you feel your shoulders relax. It doesn’t make the knot go away, but you do get a little giddy at the idea of not returning to your books tonight. That - and the perspective of spending the next hours with Jisung makes you a little more happy than it should. You already spend a lot of time together, so why would this evening be different? But it still feels like it.

Once the coffees are empty and the campaign is over, you and Jisung settle on a movie you both wanted to see for a while. You settle on opposite sides of the couch as you usually do, but you end up stretching your legs so much your feet rest against Jisung’s legs, and he doesn’t complain. He even puts a warm hand on your ankle at some point, distracting you a little from the movie.

The movie ends too quickly, and you end up in the kitchen cleaning the mugs and staring at each other.

“What now?” you chuckle. “It’s still early. Unless you want to go to bed…”

“No way,” he replies. “I want to make this last as much as possible.”

He is looking at you as he says that, his hair sticking out behind his head because of the way he was slumped on the couch for the duration of the movie, and your heartbeat accelerates. You feel a hotness on the back of your neck and you rub it with your hand.

“Then maybe we can… Take a walk? It’s not raining or anything.”

“Snack run? Then we can find something else to watch.”

“Sounds good.”

You don’t bother getting changed because it’s dark outside and the grocery store is just around the corner. Besides, you live in a neighborhood that is mostly composed of other students, so two people in sweatpants and hoodies isn’t uncommon at all. After getting plenty of snacks, you head back towards your shared apartment, talking in calm voices. The streets are not too busy, and it’s only slightly chilly. You glance up at the sky, walking slowly, your hand brushing Jisung’s.

At one point, you realize you are only talking about school and your exams, so Jisung shakes his head.

“We are so bad at this whole ‘think about something else’ thing,” he laughs.

You sigh. “We really are. God, this is hard.”

“We need to find a really good distraction. Something that would really, really disconnect our brains, like…”

He stops and you look at him with a frown. “Like what?”

“I dunno,” he answers a little too quickly. “We have to find something, is what I’m saying.”

“Yeah,” you agree in a whisper, glancing back at him curiously.

You could swear he is blushing.

“How about drinking?” he offers. “Not too much so we don’t get headaches, but a little. Being tipsy can maybe help us get inspiration.”

“I like the idea,” you smile.

Once you are back inside your apartment, your sneakers exchanged for slippers, you grab a bottle of soju from the fridge and fill two glasses. You and Jisung sit on the floor, backs leaning against the couch, and clink your glasses together. Jisung chooses a random movie on Netflix, and you watch it for a few minutes, unable to concentrate on it. After you’ve taken a few sips, you let out a sigh.

“You know what would be easier? If we weren’t single.”

Jisung arches an eyebrow.

“I mean, we could just call them,” you explain. “Get laid. Get a massage. Make out for hours. That would be really good distraction.”

“It would,” Jisung laughs. “Don’t you have someone you could call?”

“Like a fuck buddy?” you say. “Jisung, you seem to forget how excruciatingly single and bad at flirting I am.”

“You can’t be worse than me,” he smiles, taking another sip from his glass. “Last time I tried to get laid I got stood up.”

“She was a bitch,” you point out.

Jisung shakes his head. “I thought personality doesn’t matter when it comes to hooking up.”

“That’s not exactly true.”

“Like you’re such a pro at this, huh?”

You gasp at Jisung’s jab, shoving him with your elbow. “That was so mean!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he laughs, holding his palms up. “I mean, if a massage would do it for you, I can try.”

You scrunch your nose. “Nah, thank you. I’m actually not much of a massage person.”

“How can you not be a massage person?!”

You keep talking and laughing, watching the movie sometimes, and for a while, you think that you’ve actually succeeded at clearing your heads. You feel lighter, distracted. The alcohol and Jisung’s laugh help a lot. But eventually you breathe out and realize that the knot is still there. Insistent. It almost feels like it’s getting bigger. Beside you, you can feel that Jisung is the same. His shoulders are tense, and his eyes, while fixated on the screen, are not seeing anything. You’re a little tipsy so you grab the controller and press pause.

“Ji, this isn’t working.”

He turns towards you, looking sheepish. “I know. I’m sorry…”

“We need something more drastic.”

He gives you a little nod, and you squint.

“What was the idea you had earlier?”

His head shoots up and you can see panic in his eyes. “What? What idea?”

“Don’t lie to me,” you tell him. “I know your idea face. You thought of something back there, when we were walking back.”

And there it is - Jisung blushes again, shaking his head vehemently. “Oh. Oh, no. It wasn’t… It’s stupid. It’s not - I just mean it’s… No.”

You turn your body completely towards his, drawing your knees against your chest. “Ji, come on. Tell me. I’m not going to judge.”

He gives you a timid look, and empties his soju glass before he clears his throat. You do not know why, but your heart is pounding in your chest.

Jisung breathes deeply.

“I was just thinking, that when I need a distraction, like… When I really want to think about something else, I…”

“Yes?” you encourage him.

“I jerk off.”

You stare back at him in shock. You should’ve expected this. You were an idiot not to catch it earlier on. It was a logical answer - and something you’ve tried yourself numerous times in the past couple of days. Slipping your fingers in your underwear, stimulating yourself. Watching porn. But when you did succeed at your orgasms, they always felt underwhelming. They never left you feeling appeased, just even more tense.

“Oh,” you breathe out.

“I told you it was stupid! I shouldn’t have -”

“It’s not stupid,” you shrug, and it’s your turn to empty your glass.

You’re not drunk. You’re just a little tipsy. It’s not barely enough to have this kind of conversation with your roommate - one you have a huge crush on - but it will have to do. You want Jisung to feel comfortable with you. And it’s nothing to be embarrassed of, right? That’s what people always say. So why is talking about it so hard, why is your heart pounding, why is the thought of Jisung jerking off turning you on so goddamn much?

Jisung blinks at you. “It’s not?”

“Of course not,” you smile a little nervously. “I… I do it too, when I want to relax.”

He visibly gulps, but you take it as embarrassment.

“Don’t we all?” you add, a little nervously.

He nods quickly, maybe a little too enthusiastically. Your cheeks are hot, horribly hot. You need some air. You need another drink. Ten, even.

“I mean, if you want some time alone…”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant,” Jisung says. “I just, I mean, you know my friend Minho?”

You nod. “Yeah, why?”

“He told me about one time, he and his friend, I mean they were dating so it’s not the same, but they - hm, they… They watched porn together.”

It feels like you can barely breathe. Did it suddenly get very warm in your living room? Because your skin feels like it’s on fire and neither you or Jisung can look at each other directly.

“People really do that?” you say in a weak voice.

“Apparently,” Jisung chuckles nervously. “He said it was really fun, so… Yeah, I don’t know why I thought about that.”

There’s a short silence as you try to make sense of what Jisung is telling you. Is he just telling an anecdote, or is he asking for something? If you agree, will he think you’re crazy or weird? Maybe he’s just sharing. You decide there’s not much to lose. If you are misunderstanding, you can just laugh and pretend you’re joking.

Your voice is gentle, not very assumed. “You… you want us to watch porn together?”

Jisung shoots you a very panicked look and for a second you think you’ve just made a huge fool of yourself. But he opens his mouth and stammers out a yes.

“C-could be fun, I guess?” he adds.

You breathe out, your heart beating so fast you are sure Jisung can hear it. Surely, he can hear it. How terrified you are terrified at the prospect of watching porn with him. How much you never would’ve thought this could happen. How much you want to do it now.

“We really don’t have to, it’s just a stupid idea, and -”

“Okay,” you whisper.

Jisung looks at you. “R-really?”

“Sure, why not,” you say more decisively, giving him a tight nod. “We can comment on it and everything. Could be fun. I mean, it’s just porn, right? We watch it all the time.”

You realize your mistake too late, your smile faltering on your lips.

“I - I mean, I do, not all the time, but sometimes, like all people do, and…”

“You heard me that time, didn't you?” Jisung sighs, slamming his palm against his forehead.

You can’t hold back a smile this time - a genuine one. Jisung groans as you bite your lip, trying to hold back your laughter.

“Just say it,” he sighs.

“I heard you that time.”

Jisung’s head drops forward in his hands and you chuckle, your shoulders shaking.

“It’s okay, Ji, it’s not -”

“The ONE time!” he cries out, looking up at you. You love the smile on his face, both embarrassed and amused, horrified and shy. “The one time I forget to plug in my headphones… I realized too late…”

“It’s fine,” you repeat, not thinking, and place a hand on his thigh to squeeze it briefly. “It’s just porn, Ji. And I know you’re into hentai, so don’t be ashamed, please. I like it too.”

Jisung looks at you like his brain is short-circuiting. “You - what - how do you know that?”

“I was in the room with you and Minho that time you talked about it, remember?” You smile. “Also, it’s the second time his name comes up in our conversation about porn, this is getting weird.”

Jisung shrugs. “Eh, the man is shameless. But you’re right, I remember now. God, that is embarrassing.”

“It isn’t,” you smile, twirling your empty glass in your hand. You don’t want to drink anymore - this is already too much adrenaline for you. “I just confessed I’m into it, too. Do you think that’s weird?”

“Not at all. I think that’s… hot.”

You smile, feeling your cheeks burn, but you do not know what to answer. Instead, you fill your lungs with air and gather your courage.

Jisung is observing his nails very carefully.

“So, shall we?” you say, trying to sound confident.

Jisung glances up at you, searching your eyes for an instant. You guess he must be looking for hesitation, or trying to figure out if you really want this or are doing it just to please him, so you just smile calmly, although you’re unable to hold back your nervousness.

“Let’s do it,” he answers with a sharp nod.

For good measure, you each pour yourself another drink, and Jisung gets his laptop to plug it so the browser is projected on the television. You wrap your arms around your legs, looking up nervously at the screen. Jisung’s fingers hover over the keyboard.

“S-so, is there a website you like?” he asks.

“Hm,” you answer, letting out a shaky breath. “Not really. You can go to the one you usually go to. If you’re okay with that.”

“Sure,” Jisung breathes.

It takes him a few more seconds but he eventually types in a website and you let out a giggle as the welcome page pops up on the screen.

“What?”

“It’s just - it’s also the one I use,” you admit, and Jisung grins.

“Really? I like this one because of the categories. They’re a little unusual but so much fun for discovering new stuff.”

“And the mobile site is so well made,” you add with enthusiasm. “Not like other websites which are impossible to navigate on your phone…”

“Ugh, tell me about it.”

You laugh, relieved that this is already easier than you thought it would be. Of course, you haven’t actually put on any porn yet, but at least you are learning to speak of it more or less comfortably.

A short silence follows as Jisung scrolls up and down the page, and you glance at the thumbnails. Schoolgirls. Medieval fantasy. Monsters. After a minute, Jisung lets out a sigh.

“I guess we just have to choose one,” he says.

You bite your lip. “Type in Labyrinth in the search bar.”

Jisung looks at you, but he still does it. You point out the thumbnail you recognize, feeling almost dizzy.

“I like this one,” you say in a very soft voice. “The story’s actually really good.”

“O-okay.”

Taking a sharp breath, Jisung clicks on the link and the video opens up. He puts it on full screen, and it feels different to watch it on the television. You roll your arms around yourself, feeling terribly shy, and Jisung sits on the couch next to you - at a reasonable distance, of course. You clink your glasses together and take a sip of soju.

It’s not so bad at first. There’s an actual story to this video that you enjoy, but you know it doesn’t last that long. You are terrified of what Jisung might say, that he might laugh at you, but you try your best not to overthink everything. As the sex scenes are coming closer, you realize you have not yet exchanged a word and there is still the embarrassing issue of actually getting turned on. You really haven’t thought this through, you think to yourself as the characters start to undress each other.

Oh, God.

Kisses. Fondling. The wet sounds of the guy’s fingers slipping into the girl’s dripping folds. You breathe in slowly - but there’s a reason you love this video. It really pushes your buttons, so you can’t help but feel your walls clench around nothing. You should think about something else. You can’t focus too much on this. But you’re already getting wet and your eyes can’t leave the screen because if they do, they’ll inevitably fall on Jisung.

Your friend. Your roommate. Your crush. Who is sitting next to you, watching your favorite porn video with you. Oh, God.

On the screen, the guy buries his head in between her legs. Licks her wetness as she moans his name. The images are one thing - the sounds are another.

You’re burning up, pushing your thighs together, trying to stay discreet.

As the girl’s pleasure builds, the subtitles translate her moans for you. Wanted this for so long, your tongue feels so good buried in me. That’s when you feel Jisung move beside you. Your eyes are instinctively drawn to him, and you catch a glimpse of his parted mouth, his red cheeks, his hazy eyes.

He has his legs propped up against him. You wonder if he’s as turned on as you. Maybe not. Maybe this isn’t doing it for him.

You focus back on the screen as the girl comes, squirting around the guy’s face. He chuckles, and asks her to suck his cock. She bends down to do it, and Jisung breathes out sharply.

“The- the animation’s really good,” he says weakly, and you are quick to nod.

“Yeah, right? The movements are really smooth,” you comment.

Jisung smiles nervously. “Yeah. I - I like it.”

You want to keep talking, but you don’t know what to say. The questions that burn the tip of your tongue cannot be asked, not really, not right now. You and Jisung are friends who watch porn together. You are not involved. You are not dating. This is just a distraction.

But now you are horny as fuck and getting tense. You need to relieve the pressure between your legs or you will go crazy. You can already feel your mind buzzing.

The girl is giving the guy a sloppy blowjob. He is groaning loudly, which is something you like about this video, and she hums in pleasure.

“The voice acting isn’t that bad, right?” you say. “I like it when we can hear the guy, too.”

“You do?” Jisung asks. “I thought girls didn’t like hearing us.”

“Oh my God, it’s literally the opposite,” you chuckle. “Hearing the guys groan and moan is the hottest thing ever.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, Ji. Be as vocal as possible, I promise it’s going to make them come quicker.” You shrug. “I mean, I can’t speak for everyone. But it would do it for me.”

Jisung nods, and you both turn back to the screen just in time for the guy plunging his cock deep inside his partner, making her gasp in pleasure. The squelching noises are turned up, and she is visibly dripping all around him, precum and juices staining the sheets of the bed.

Yes, fuck me deep, your cock is so big, oh my god!

You close your eyes, shifting your hips in a desperate attempt to rub yourself against something, but there’s nothing to do - your cunt is just throbbing, and you can feel your slick drenching your underwear. You’re so hot, you want to remove your hoodie, but you also can’t move.

You lose track of time a little when Jisung’s voice reaches your ears.

“S-sorry,” he says in a breathy voice. “I can’t help it.”

You glance at him and notice he has stretched his legs. His gray sweatpants hide absolutely nothing of his erection and you stare at the outline of his cock, hard and thick. You could moan out loud at the mere sight, but by miracle you are able to hold it in. You had noticed Jisung was, let’s say, well equipped, but you did not expect this.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbles.

“It’s fine,” you whisper, shaking your head, finally looking up at him. “I’m really wet, too.”

Jisung’s cock twitches under his pants and he closes his eyes sharply. “Fuck, don’t tell me that.”

“S-sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Fuck. I’m sorry.”

You don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s the porn on the television, your own arousal, your repressed crush for Jisung or the sight of his stiff cock, but you’re unable to think straight and the words come out of your mouth unprovoked.

“Ji, do you… do you want some help?”

The thought that you could actually touch him makes your mouth water. You’ve thought about it before, wrapping your hands around him. Closing your lips around his length. Licking him clean. Maybe it’s not as impossible as you thought. Maybe you aren’t that foolish to think it could happen.

Jisung stammers for a few seconds because he gulps. “A-are you really asking?”

You nod faintly. “I can jerk you off.”

He stares at you, mouth open. “I mean - If - if- if you’d like it.” He seems to catch himself, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “You don’t have to, Y/N, it’s…”

“I don’t mind,” you answer. “I - I’d like it, but only if you want to.”

“R-right. Hm, okay. But only if you’re sure…”

You just shuffle closer to him, kneeling beside his body. His smell overwhelms you, so him, his cologne and his soap, soju and candy, and your hands are shaking as you reach for his pants. You hesitate, though, realizing what you are about to do. You’re scared he doesn’t really want this, you’re scared of what it will change, but before you can start to doubt too much, Jisung slides down his sweatpants and takes his cock out himself.

“H-here.”

He holds it up for you although he wouldn’t have to. He is so hard it looks painful, veins bulging, slightly curved, pre-cum glistening at the tip. You bite your lip, pressing your legs together, and you’re sitting so close to Jisung you feel his breath in your hair.

You reach out and wrap your fingers around his cock. It’s warm and pulsating, and Jisung lets out a whimper. You move your hand upwards and downwards, getting used to him, barely seeing the porn that is still ongoing on the screen. All you hear are moans and the wet sounds of fucking and kissing, and it helps you not think too much about what is happening, like it’s not real, like it’s part of the porn. Your fingers slide up to his tip, smearing the pre-cum over Jisung’s cock, and you jerk your hand a little faster.

Jisung lets out a choked moan and his forehead falls against the side of your head. His arm slides around your body, holding you close, the other resting on the couch, gripping the fabric.

“F-fuck, ah, ah, fuck,” he whispers in your ear, and the sound is like the sweetest music.

Is Jisung enjoying this? You giving him a handjob while watching porn? This can’t be real. This is the hottest thing you've ever done.

“Is that okay?” you ask him softly.

“F-feels p-perfect,” he grunts, bucking his hips against your hand. “Y/N…”

The sound of your name draws a shaky breath from your lips, and your other hand grabs his thigh, squeezing it a little. You try to remain steady, intoxicated by the sounds coming from the television, Jisung’s noises, his cock around your hand, him fucking your palm.

“I’m n-not going to last,” Jisung whimpers, and you slide up your other hand to cup his balls. That draws a loud grunt from his lips. “Fuck, Y/N!”

“Hold on,” you whisper, feeling drunker than if you had emptied a bottle of soju by yourself. “I want to suck you off.”

It might be your only chance. You want to make this moment last - so you have something to think about, the next time your roommate comes into your mind. The next time you dream about Jisung being yours. The next time you tell yourself there is no way he can like you back. You can at least let him go knowing he’s come once around your hands, around your lips.

“Y-you sure?”

You nod, shuffling back on the couch a little, bending forward so your lips come into contact with his cock. Jisung buries his fingers in your hair, pulling them together to keep them away from your face. You kiss his tip, your right hand still moving, your left holding his balls.

“Holy fuck, Y/N… This feels incredible… I’m not…”

“Just let go, Ji,” you whisper, perhaps a little too tenderly.

You wrap your mouth around his cock, taking him in. You glance up to see his eyes roll back. You’re pretty sure the sex scene is over on the screen, because people are talking, but neither of you are paying any attention. You bob your head, licking every inch of him, and Jisung thrusts his hips slowly, fucking your mouth gently.

“I’m gonna blow, fuck, please, ah - ah, FUCK -”

He comes quickly and suddenly, his cum filling your mouth, salty and warm. His cock keeps throbbing between your lips, and Jisung is breathing heavily, his fingers still resting in your hair, all tangled. You take the time to lick him clean, gently, carefully.

When you sit up, his hand slides down your arm to your leg, and you look at him. He’s not moving, head thrown back, his hair over his slightly sweaty face, his clothes in disarray.

This is a sight you’ll never forget.

A taste you’ll never forget.

You feel something tighten in your chest.

You’ve fallen so hard for him.

“Y/N…” he breathes after a few seconds, raising his head to look at you.

His hands reach for you, and you let him. His hand grazes your cheek, the other gripping your own. You slide your fingers in between his, feeling a little shy.

“That was unreal,” he breathes, leaning in towards you.

He doesn’t kiss you, neither does he hug you - he just presses his body against yours, pressing his lips against your hair. It’s such a tender gesture you feel your heart swell in your chest and you ache for touch. You don’t expect anything. You want to run away to touch yourself, to fuck yourself thinking of him, but you don’t want to leave his warmth.

“Come here,” he whispers. “It’s your turn.”

Your heart skips a beat. You want to tell him he doesn’t have to, but he’s already wrapping his arms around you, bringing you closer. You end up on his lap, and instinctively you guide your legs so you straddle one of his legs, your core flush on his thigh.

The pressure, despite the layers of clothing, draws a moan from between your lips and you dig your fingers in his skin.

“Jisung…”

“Does that feel good?” he asks in a whisper.

When you nod, Jisung raises his thigh a little, applying more pressure on your cunt, and the wave of pleasure makes you arch your back and grind against him.

“Don’t hold back,” he breathes as you start to roll your hips. “Like you told me. Just let go.”

He places a hand on the small of your back, accompanying you in your movements. He breathes in your neck, warming up and tickling your skin, your cunt clenching tighter and tighter. His thigh is tense, pressing against all the right places, and you can’t stop moaning.

You push yourself up a little, pressing a hand against his chest, and you want to get rid of all those clothes, and feel him under your skin, but you can’t stop moving, and you are so close to coming.

Jisung is breathing hard against you, pushing his leg upwards, his hands massaging your waist, helping you move as you ride his thigh. “That’s it, baby…”

The nickname alone almost ends you.

He kisses your collarbone and you think you might explode. “You sound so good. I’m so fucking obsessed with you,” he says.

The words take your breath away. You shudder, your fingers squeezing his as you roll your hips a little slower. “You - what?”

It’s like he doesn’t hear you. “Baby, please, can I make you cum?”

You just nod, his words echoing in your mind, unable to be truly grasped as your orgasm builds up. His hand slides down your pants and he pushes his fingers under your panties, pressing them against your wetness. You let out a moan at the direct contact, feeling your body jolt.

“You’re so wet,” Jisung groans in your ear.

You can’t bring yourself to speak. You’re already so close to your climax that when Jisung starts to circle your clit, pushing his fingers in between your folds, it only takes a few seconds for you to come undone, breathing out his name. It feels like a tidal wave, like a power surge, like everything you have dreamed of. You feel him smile, his fingers teasing you until you have to grab his wrist and pull them away.

“S-sensitive,” you chuckle, unable to open your eyes, feeling drained.

He nods with a soft laugh. You can feel against your leg that he’s hard again, but he doesn’t do anything. He just looks at you as you try to steady your breathing, your legs trembling. You don’t want to move - he is so warm next to you. But eventually, you realize the position you are in, and so you slide off him. Jisung helps you, his hands guiding you back on the couch beside him.

You feel breathless, like you’ve just ran a marathon. Once your eyes are able to focus, you stare at the screen without really seeing it. You try to grasp what has just happened. You wonder what’s next. You are afraid.

“Y/N…”

Jisung’s voice reaches your ears but you can’t bring yourself to look at him. What now? Can you stay roommates? Can you even stay friends? Your heartbeat accelerates and you sit up on the couch, suddenly feeling antsy.

“I - I should… I need to go to the bathroom.”

“Y/N, wait -”

You know it’s unfair, but you ignore him and quickly walk away. You close the bathroom door, breathing out. And then the oddest thing happens.

You smile.

You giggle in surprise, putting your fingers to your lips. Fuck, you can’t stop smiling. You should be nervous, you should be terrified. But none of those feelings are lasting - you are only smiling like an idiot. Jisung’s words resonate in your head. I’m so fucking obsessed with you.

Sometimes things need to change. Sometimes they should. Sometimes they are meant to.

When you open the bathroom door again, Jisung is waiting for you on the other side. His big eyes are filled with worry, pleading, and fear.

“Y/N, please, listen -”

You don’t think. You just kiss him.

Jisung does not move at first, and when you take a step back, your cheeks burning up, he stares at you with shock.

“What are you -”

“I like you,” you blutter out. “I like you a lot.”

It takes another second, but Jisung’s lips curve into a smile. His eyes do not leave yours, but the light in them changes. Soon his heart-shaped grin makes your heart swell in your chest, and he’s picking you up in his arms and kissing you again.

You push him gently against the wall. “Please touch me again.”

You guide his hands on your waist, and he breathes hard in your mouth.

“I like you so much,” Jisung says, and his lips brush against your ear, making you breathe out. “I have such a massive crush on you. Never let myself act on it… I was too scared, you know.”

“I know,” you whisper back. “Me too.”

“I like everything about you,” he whispers. “Your laugh. Your passion. Your smell. Your skin… Fuck, you’re so gorgeous. You don’t have any idea how beautiful you are. How fucking sexy.”

You part your mouth wider, and he pushes his tongue against yours, playing with it, his teeth teasing your lips. His hard cock is pressing against you, making you crave him again, and you want to feel him inside of you, so deep you can never be separated again.

“Can I take you back to my room?” he asks in between two kisses. “I want to fuck you in my bed.”

You feel yourself throbbing and you can’t hold back a moan as you nod.

It happens fast - Jisung takes your hand and guides you to his room. You’re pretty sure the porn is still playing on the television back in the living room, but who cares? You only have eyes for Jisung.

You know his room so well. The smells, the colors. The desk, the blankets, the clothes. The stickers on the window. Yet it all looks different as you step inside holding Jisung’s hand. He draws you close, bringing you back into a kiss. You collapse against him, letting him guide you to his bed.

He lifts you like you’re a feather, laying you down, his body above yours. Jisung is quick to cover your neck with kisses, his wet lips smearing saliva on your skin. He removes your hoodie, palms your breasts, who are only covered by a tank top.

“Fuck, those tits…”

You can hardly breathe, loving each of his caresses. The sheets smell so much like him it’s almost overwhelming. After removing the rest of your clothes, he spends a long time kissing and licking your breasts, playing with your nipples, drawing hisses and moans from your lips. After a while you whimper in protest, because your walls are begging for him.

“Ji, please…”

His mouth breaks into a grin, and he comes back to push his lips against yours. He kisses you surprisingly tenderly, and you moan against his mouth, because this feels so right, so true. His fingers stroke your hair, your cheek, and your hands travel down his back and then upwards, lifting his crewneck. He removes it, and you arch your back against him, your nipples pressed against his chest, his lips ardently seeking yours.

Soon he is naked too, and as he keeps kissing you, his cock teases your wetness. From his shuddered breathing, you know he can’t wait much longer, and you squeeze his arm, hoping he understands your signal. It seems like he does, because he sits up a little, leaning towards his bedside table to open a drawer. He fumbles inside of it, muttering nonsense, until he finally pulls out a condom. You giggle and Jisung laughs with you, and you feel warmer than you ever have.

Once Jisung has safely put on the condom, he guides his cock against your entrance and glances at you.

“Can I - I mean - You sure?”

“Yes,” you nod.

You wish you could look at his length disappearing inside of you, just because you’ve desired it so much, but once Jisung enters you, your head falls back on the pillow. He goes slow, leaving you time to adjust, stopping when you breathe a little more sharply. It takes a minute, but eventually he fills you up, and you wrap your arms around him, breathing out.

“Are you okay?”

You nod. “Sorry. It’s just been a while.”

“There’s no rush,” he tells you softly. “We can go slow.”

You smile, pulling him into a kiss.

“Just tell me if it’s too much,” he breathes in your ear.

He starts to move, thrusting his hips carefully. Your body recovers quickly, though, and soon you can shift your hips alongside his, easing his movements. He fucks you gently and deeply, sending shivers up your spine, and you’ve certain you’ve never had sex like this. You breathe together, move together, moan together.

You take your time, your orgasm rising slowly and surely. You dig your fingers in his skin, shudder when you hear him grunt. You shift positions after some time, so that your legs can be wrapped more easily around his waist, and he’s so deep inside of you that you feel your walls throb with pleasure.

“J-just like that,” you whisper to him. “Fuck, I’m coming…”

“I can feel you,” he whimpers. “Come, baby, I’m so close too…”

You cry out in his neck, the sound slightly muffled, and Jisung follows you seconds afterwards. You feel every throb of his release. You’re still shivering as he looks down in panic.

“Fuck, I’m - I’m sorry, I didn’t pull out…”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him. “There’s the condom, and I take the pill…”

He still looks worried so you kiss him, feeling at peace. You are safe, you feel safe. Jisung eventually relaxes, and after throwing away the condom, he slumps on the bed beside you, snuggling his head in the crook of your neck. His fingers brush your cheek to put a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I want to make you cum every day,” he says gently. “With my fingers, my mouth, my cock.”

“Hmm,” you smile. “I like that idea.”

“Yeah?” he grins. “I want to sleep next to you. See your face in the morning, the sunshine against your cheeks… Your arms wrapped around me.”

With every sentence he places a kiss, making you sleepy and perfectly awake at the same time, your mind consumed by the images he draws.

“I want to keep cooking for you. Make you smile. Drive you to the dentist…”

“Jisung, you don’t have a car,” you laugh.

“I’ll get one. And I want to get rid of those fucking doors between us.”

“Jisung.”

You open your eyes, grab his face so he looks at you in the eyes.

“Will you kiss me?”

Jisung pushes your hair away from your face and does exactly that.

Some time later, you smile.

You have not drawn the curtain yet, so the moonlight penetrates the window, illuminating the room in soft blues. You graze your nose against Jisung’s chest, listening to him breathe. He’s slowly falling asleep beside you, the covers drawn over your naked bodies.

“Hey, you know what? It worked. I haven’t thought about studying all night,” you whisper to him.

You hear him chuckle. “Hm. I don’t even know what you’re referring to. My head is completely empty.”

“So is mine,” you say with a laugh, planting a kiss on his warm skin. “I can’t even remember what day of the week this is.”

“I can only think about you,” Jisung replies, stroking your hair. “I like you a lot.”

“Me too, Ji. Me too.”

I'm so sorry for not updating as much as I used to. I hurt my shoulder pretty bad and couldn't write for a while, and now my head won't let me.

Let me know if you enjoyed this! Thank you for all of your support and love. ♡

taglist: @ughbehavior ; @upallnight-s ; @changbinluvr ; @rosexjimin ; @nasiaisan ; @lotus-dly ; @cb97percent ; @j-0ne25 ; @hwan-g ; @jhopesucker ; @leedunno ; @septicrebel ; @imtoooyoungforthisshit ; @sikebishes ; @sai-kida134 ; @sstarryoong ; @alexis-reads-fics ; @luvsskz ; @beautifulcolorgarden ; @sensitiveandhungry

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dreamisols · 8 months

Text

permission ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

—your boyfriend has a cute but questionable habit —wc: 1,140 ; sleepy proofread —fluff, birthday fluff, rin is (squeezes him gently), some personal headcanons, and slight younger rinnie personality headcanons —rimi's ramble: happiest birthday to rin itoshi my boy uee i love him so much <3 also halfway into writing this i realized how soft i always make him but i'd gladly ramble about that too

it's been well over a year into your relationship with rin itoshi.

and at this juncture, you could say that he's opened up to you about nearly everything. it took time, and you were as patient as ever in his eyes. he showed you everything about himself: the good, the bad, what he wants to be, and who he used to be. you can't be fooled by his grumpy persona and harsh body language, not when he finally bared his whole raw heart for you to hold and love. you two knew practically everything about each other.

which might be why you noticed rin slowly picking up some of his old habits from childhood.

for instance, he'd wake you up sometimes from your summer midday naps to offer going out and buying some popsicles from a convenience store nearby to battle the afternoon heat. despite your lazy protests, you'd drag your feet and go with him. and you'd watch as his teal eyes carefully scan the selection of icy treats inside the freezer despite knowing he'd always grab the blue twin pops.

another is when he'd take you to aquariums for dates more often. he once told you in passing that his brother used to love taking him to aquariums when they both couldn't sit and overlook the beach. and now because of how frequently you two have dates there, you two are practically regarded as regulars by the employees (they've joked to rin once about how he should propose to you in one of their scenic spots in the future; rin choked on the water he was drinking).

but the most prominent one is how rin would have this mindless habit of asking permission for the most no-brainer, useless, and quite frankly, idiotically endearing things.

you didn't question it at first. they were honestly all reasonable things to ask from someone who's in a relationship for the first time. albeit he was extremely awkward the first few times around, with him struggling to get the words out, you eventually got used to his small requests and questions.

a small "may i come in?" after every time he knocks on your door whenever he's over at your place.

a shy offer of "do you want me to brush your hair?" when he notices you dozing off a bit after a fresh evening shower.

even a "is it alright if i stay out late with the team?" text once every blue moon whenever he's dragged to their shenanigans (completely against his will).

rin may be struggling with socializing and understanding others' social cues well enough, but mama itoshi didn't raise a disrespectful boy.

you really haven't paid much attention to this habit of his until his birthday.

"i... i can do anything with you..?" rin questions, almost in disbelief. nodding, you parrot his words back, "yep! it's your special day today, so everything's your call!"

"anything...?" he asks again. and like earlier, you nod once more.

there was a beat of silence that accompanied the shocked look rin gave you.

"obviously, everything within reason..!" you cough nervously, afraid rin might've gotten the wrong idea or got too pressured by your supposed surprise, "we also don't have to go out or anything... like i said, whatever you-"

"can... we hold hands...?"

you stop your frantic rambling when your mind processed his words. your gaze is directly at him, but he's staring at the ground like he finally discovered something groundbreaking. the way he spoke sounded as if he was in utter disbelief. it was like if his crush told him that they liked him back, or like he was told that he won the grand prize of something big.

which is confusing.

"y-yes we can?" you quirk one of your brows with a rather unsure smile, "we often hold our hands together, rinnie. we even interlock fingers."

your boyfriend still has that dumb surprised look casted on the wooden floor, "oh.. yeah..."

you were about to question the tone of his voice when he perks up so suddenly and goes on a tangent,

"can we wear matching scarfs when we go out, then? it's practical for the temperature. can we use the one you bought us... that one with the sanrio dog you said reminded you of me because of soccer— pochacco?"

he sits upright and looks up at you with eyes filled with so much anticipation that you can't bear to look away, "we can wear that, right?"

you nod again, "yes rinnie, we can wear that out. like you said, it's cold anyways-"

your excited boyfriend cuts you off once more, like an overly excited child, "if it's cold, can we cuddle? oh, maybe we can also get a mini cake from the bakery nearby? or better yet a parfait— can we share? i don't like overly sweet food..." he gasps softly, like he's struck with the most genius idea, and looks up at you once more for permission.

"can i kiss you..? but.. like, a lot-"

you finally squish his cheeks to stop his mouth from blabbering more and more words that make you both want to squeal at his cuteness and shake him like a dog does with a chew toy because of how annoyingly stupidly adorable he is.

"rin itoshi." the man sits straight at the use of his full name. "i love you with all my heart but oh my god if you ask permission from me for yet another stupid thing i might kiss you and or muffle you with the couch pillow." as if for good measure that your point gets across, you flick rin's forehead softly.

"you know that you're free to spoil yourself, match anything with me, and indulge in any form of affection you're comfortable with." you leave a soft kiss on his cheek, which elicits a gasp from your boyfriend.

"so no more of these useless questions, okay?"

rin nods three times, still looking at you with all the love in the world. your black cat of a boyfriend has magically morphed into this puppy of a man, you can practically envision his imaginary tail wagging from excitement. but you don't mind this side of rin—the side of his that allows his inner emotions, his inner youth run free. if anything, it's a testament to how much he's grown comfortable with you.

your lips form a small smile, your eyes reflect all your love back at him.

just as you were about to change the topic, you catch his teal eyes drift to your lips, back up to your eyes, then down to the floor.

three seconds pass.

"can we-" "you just want the kiss on the lips, don't you?"

if it results in more opportunities for kisses, then yes, he doesn't mind asking all these stupid nonsensical questions.

likes and reblogs are appreciated, but please don’t copy or repost my work!

#🎐rimi.works #💌.bluelock #blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock rin #bllk fluff #bllk rin #bllk x reader #blue lock fluff #rin itoshi #rin itoshi fluff #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi x you #itoshi rin #itoshi rin fluff #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin x you #happy birthday to my boy<3 #late rin bday post on my end sorry :(

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stylesharrys · 24 days

Text

hot distraction [bisexual!y/n]

authors note: a little cheeky subby!y/n smut for you guys, had this idea in my drafts for months and months but i never really got round to writing it. anyway, here you go darlings, enjoy <3

warnings: dom/sub relationships, unprotected sex, kissing, teasing, swearing, spanking, dirty talk, anal (fingering)

word count: 2,862

summary: y/n breaks up with her girlfriend and harry helps take her mind off things.

Harry has no idea what to do. He’s never seen her cry before and he doesn’t know if he should give her a hug or try to make light of the situation.

“I don’t even know why I’m crying.”

Harry’s even more confused than he was before. He’ll never ever understand women’s emotions. And by the sight before him, he doesn’t think he ever wants to.

“S’okay, petal. It hurts now but it’ll be a distant memory in a few weeks time.”

She scoffs at him, at his sorry attempt to cheer her up. Y/N doesn’t need or want pity. She wants to warn off all women and whore it up for a little bit.

If she’s honest, the breakup has been a long time coming. They’d only been together six months but things weren’t the same as when they first met.

Alora was a beautiful woman, funny and kind. But the first few times of fooling around were a lot more exciting than six months in, where her sex drive seemed to just vanish.

Y/N has thought that perhaps she was the problem. Maybe she craves sex too much and too often and that’s the issue. She also thought that maybe she secretly had a fear of commitment and that’s what made her more than okay with Alora calling things off.

She knows now that’s not the case. Alora was seeing other people behind Y/N’s back. Given, they never really spoke about being exclusive, but Y/N had just assumed that if Alora was seeing other people, she’d have the decency to let Y/N know.

And now, she’s about ready to swear off all women.

She stands from the sofa, wiping the tears from her face and taking a shaky breath. There’s no way in hell she’s going to ruin her Friday night sobbing over another woman. No fucking chance.

“Do you have plans tonight?” she asks Harry, chin raised as she acts unbothered by her situation.

Harry shakes his head. “No, why? You wanna go out?”

Her lip is taut between her teeth as she considers the proposition. A night out could be perfect – sex with a hot, random stranger will most definitely take her mind off things.

She nods, once. But it’s like Harry can smell the hesitation. He squints at her, leaning forward in his spot on the sofa.

“You’re not just wanting to go out so you can have a one night stand, are you?”

“No!” her voice is high-pitched, a dead giveaway that that’s exactly what she plans on doing.

Harry huffs, closing his eyes for a moment. It’s no secret that he’s got the hots for Y/N. He’s always found her incredibly attractive. But in the two years he’s known her, she’s only ever dated women.

He doesn’t think there’s ever even been an instance where she’s acknowledged another man. Harry notices her sheepish expression and his tummy knots and twists.

“If you were into guys…” he mumbles out, more to himself but it still reaches Y/N’s ears and she frowns.

“I am.”

Harry’s head snaps up, staring at her in bewilderment. “You are? I thought you were gay.”

Y/N laughs softly. “I am… slightly. I prefer men usually, but women are just softer and more attentive I find.”

Harry raises his eyebrows, a cocky smirk on his lips. Bingo.

“That just means you’ve never been with the right guys.”

His voice has grown deeper, sultry. And the entire mood of the room has changed. There’s a tension in the atmosphere, one they’re both awfully familiar with but never with one another.

“Is that so?”

They’re dancing on a tight rope between friends and something more, neither too sure who’s going to fall first. It feels naughty, wrong. So wrong to allow this tension, these thoughts.

But there’s nothing inappropriate about it. They’re both single, consenting adults. What would it matter if he kissed her? If she kissed him back? If he spent an hour between her legs and had her creaming all over his cock?

“And from what you’ve been telling me, wasn’t you getting frustrated that Alora was too vanilla?”

Heat rises to her cheeks at his words. Harry moves closer, tips of his fingers ghosting are her bare thighs, the hem of her baggy t-shirt barely covering her knickers underneath.

“Something tells me, you don’t want something soft. You’ve just never been manhandled the way you want, so you’re taking the easier route.”

Y/N has never felt so seen in her life. “Isn’t that right, pet?”

She grows shy under his words, feeling small and vulnerable and her little panties are fucking soaked.

“Maybe,” she squeaks.

Harry’s smirk grows tenfold, eyes dark and lustful. His gaze never leaves her face as he stands in front of her. His tall build towering over Y/N’s.

“Personally, I think you just want to be a good girl…”

His hand finds her face, gently caressing her jaw as he speaks. When her eyes flutter closed absentmindedly, she hears Harry tut before her.

“Keep those pretty eyes open, puppy.”

Her eyes open, wide. All doe-like and fluttery. It awakens that hunger deep in Harry’s stomach – one full of need and desire.

“Y/N… d’you like it when I call you puppy?”

She nods, so innocent and sheepish. It has Harry’s cock twitching in his pants. God, she’s going to be the death of him.

Y/N’s nuzzling her face into his hand, eyes heavy but open, like she doesn't want to be scolded by Harry. He pouts down at her, a look of sympathy in his eyes and Y/N’s never felt so warm and safe.

“My poor petal, all touch starved and needy.”

It’s like a flip has been switched within her. She’s no longer that bubbly and bratty girl he’s always known. She’s soft and quiet, desperate and eager to please and Harry is stretching out his boxers.

“Go in your bedroom for me, puppy. Want you naked with your legs spread.”

He places a gentle kiss to her lips, barely offering a taste of what’s to come. The act has her heart leaping before she rushes to her bedroom to rid herself of any clothes.

She’s never allowed herself to look at Harry in the way she is now. She always told herself that friends are only friends and never to indulge in anything else with them.

Y/N can admit that she’s always found him attractive, always enjoyed his company and mayb often stared a little too long whenever he was topless or when the veins in his arms and hands were that little bit more visible than usual.

She supposes he’s always had some sort of chokehold on her, something she’s never thought too deep about. But now, she can’t get out of her head. Laying naked on her bed, legs spread as he approaches her bedroom door.

She’s pulsing, cunt hot and leaking. God, she doesn't remember the last time she felt this turned on, this excited, this ready to submit completely.

Whatever he wants, she’ll give him. Whatever he offers, she’ll take.

Harry eyes her as he enters her bedroom, gaze focused on that weeping little cunt. He’s holding his breath, fighting back a wanton cry. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything so sexy in his life.

Y/N watches with glossy eyes as he tugs his t-shirt over his head, the ripples of his golden skin exciting her more. If he’ll let her, she’ll happily lick the expanse of every single tattoo adoring his body.

She’ll do anything. Anything.

Her hips begin to squirm as his thumbs loop into the waistband of his shorts and boxers, anticipation getting the better of her. Harry notices, pulls his hands away and raises a brow.

“I don’t remember saying you could move.”

Y/N’s body stills, blood running cold. Her lips are pursed into a thin line – “I’m sorry.” Her words come out shyly, like she’s embarrassed to be told off.

Harry tuts, no longer interested in pulling himself free. Instead he moves toward the foot of the bed and climbs up on his knees, sitting between her shaking thighs.

Y/N’s chest is heaving in excitement, bottom lip gnawed between her teeth. Harry reaches for her left thigh, gently massaging the soft and supple skin before raising his hand and dropping it again in a harsh smack.

She shrieks at the unexpected impact, brows knitted as she bites back a moan.

Oh, he wasn’t fucking around.

“If you’re sorry then you’ll lay on your tummy and take your punishment.” He flips her over before she has chance to register his words. Flat on her stomach, hands held behind her back, Harry takes her in.

He lets his hand caress her hips for a moment, trailing down to her bum and he smoothes over the skin. “And I don’t want to hear a fucking sound.”

He spanks her once, her entire body jolting. Y/N buries her face into her pillows, suffocating any desperate moans that beg to be cried. She keeps quiet, eyes rolled to the back of her head.

Harry spanks her again, harder this time. His hand print is left on her supple skin and he groans to himself. He spreads her cheeks apart for a moment, allows himself the sight of her dripping cunt, eagerly trying to clench around something.

“Look at you, puppy. So wet and good for me.”

Smack.

Smack!

Her bottom is sore, stinging as he finally relents. There’s tears in her eyes as she struggles to compose her breathing. She’s not brave enough to admit she almost came from her punishment.

Harry takes a moment to admire his work, how raw her pretty bum is. Her skin is beginning to rise in the form of his handprint, sore and tender. He holds her hips, thumbs rubbing along the stripey lines of silvering stretch marks on the sides of her bum.

“Pretty puppy, did so well for me.”

She coos at his praise, fingers wiggling in an attempt to feel him. Harry chuckles, leaning down to pepper kisses to her bum and up her spine. He fools her with his kindness for a moment, allowing her body to relax under his touch.

But when his lips reach her neck, he grabs a handful of her hair and yanks her head up, teeth nipping at her jaw and nosing at her ear.

“Now you’re going to be a good puppy and let Daddy fuck your pretty little hole, okay?”

Y/N’s cunt throbs at his words. Daddy. Daddy. Daddy. Fuck, she can’t get it out of her head. Harry releases his hold on her hair, her face dropping back into her pillows as he clambers off her.

He strips from his boxers and shorts, thick length smacking at his lower tummy as he clambers back onto the bed again. Harry’s hard, painfully so and Y/N wants nothing more than to lay on her back and watch him work his way around her body.

But he doesn’t allow that. Instead, his hands find her hips and he’s hoisting her bum in the air, back arched and chest to the mattress with her face buried in the pillows.

The sight is mesmerising and Harry can’t look away. Pretty pussy all wet and plump. The tip of his cock slides through her slit and Harry lets out a shaky whimper. A noise that does not go unheard by Y/N, who’s jaw slacks at the sound of it.

She’s eager for more, gagging for his cock. She’s never felt so submissive in her life, so willing to be used as a fuck toy. And she never would’ve pegged Harry for the type.

Y/N supposes he does possess a lot of dominant qualities. Whenever he speaks, all eyes are on him. Whatever he says, it’s always respected. And when Harry doesn’t like something, nobody challenges him.

It’s been right in front of her the whole time. They’ve both been so blind.

“So pretty, baby. Look at you.”

The praise goes straight to her head. She’s woozy and needy and thinks she might fucking cry if he doesn’t fill her with his cook soon.

“Daddy’s good little puppy. Want me to fill your little hole, baby? Want Daddy to fuck you so hard you can’t even remember your name?”

Y/N’s too deep into subspace to respond, but that’s not a good enough excuse for Harry. He strikes down on her sore bum again and she shrieks, nodding feverishly.

“Yes, Daddy! Please, I’ve been so good.”

The sound of her begging is something Harry will never let himself forget. Her body responds to every tiny touch he offers, she keens for him. For more.

Lining himself at her hole, Harry pushes forward just enough to allow her half of his length. A wanton cry escapes her lips, muffled by her pillow as her body tenses.

Harry gives her little time to adjust to his length, sheathing himself further into her tight hole until he bottoms out.

Y/N struggles to stay quiet, struggles to not reach for him, to touch him. Harry reaches for her hands again, pulling them behind her back and holding her in place by her wrists.

“You’re fucking soaked, puppy.” He praises, breathless at the sight of himself tucked deep inside her.

Harry begins to rock his hips, slowly at first until he finds a comfortable pace and her ass jiggles with every thrust he gives. Y/N’s cunt grips him like a vice, obscene noises filling their ears and Harry decides he wants to hear more.

“Wanna hear you, puppy. Tell Daddy how good it feels.”

Y/N is wailing the second she’s given permission, wild and desperate and begging for more and more and more.

Harry’s thumbing at her puckering asshole, softly smoothing over the taut skin as Y/N begins to buck her hips back into him. He’s seething through gritted teeth, struggling to keep himself together as he gently pushes his thumb into her tight hole.

“Yes, Daddy! Please… please….”

She’s incoherent as she tries to speak, words still muffled and gurgled. She can feel him in her stomach, filling every inch of her body and subconscious mind. As if she exists solely for him, for his pleasure.

“My sweet girl, taking me so well. Look at you, puppy. All dumb for my cock.”

Harry’s thrusts get harder and faster, his thumb lodged deep in her ass as he fucks into her. Y/N’s arousal soaks his pubic bone, skin slapping and gruff moans echoing through.

She can’t stay quiet, not even if she tried. Moans are tearing throug her throat with no sense of hesitancy, her entire body being rocked as Harry pummels into her.

Eyes rolling to the back of her head, jaw slack, she’s close. Her cunt begins to tighten around him, desperate to mild him dry for everything he has to offer. And Harry can feel it – he feels every little squeeze she gives him, every spasm of her slick pussy.

His spare hand smacks down on her bum in quick, constant successions, his pace impossibly faster and the breath is knocked from her lungs.

She can’t see, can’t think, can’t hear. It’s like her soul has left; experiencing eternal bliss for the first time in her life. But she feels Harry’s fat cock twitch between her walls, she feels the stinging bite of every spank, she feels her coil begin to tighten and pull.

“You gonna cum, puppy? You gonna cum all over my cock?” Harry pants.

She’s nodding, unable to find her words. It takes her a moment to catch a breath. “Please,” is all she can manage to whimper out, her entire body on fire.

Harry spanks her again, eager and hot moans bubbling from his chest. “Cum, puppy. Make a mess on Daddy’s cock.”

Y/N’s entire body begins to tremble relentlessly, a high pitched whine falling off her tongue as she explodes around him.

Her arousal coates his cock and stomach, squirting out the best it can with Harry’s length still shoved in her cunt. The sight of her squirting all over him has him seeing stars, and he’s quick to pull out, coating her back and bum in thick ribbons of arousal.

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

He’s a panting mess as Y/N’s hips fall onto the mattress with a soft thud. He watches her body move gently as she catches her breath, listens to the soft pants that escape her plump lips.

Only now does he realise, he’s yet to kiss her the way he’s been dreaming. Harry crawls beside her, brushing the hair from her face and she’s quick to nuzzle into his touch.

He moves closer, his lips encapsulating hers in a soft and tender kiss. Both their eyes flutter closed and their mouths work in unison, gently. Y/N never knew she’d crave the taste of someones lips until Harry pulls away and rests his forehead against hers.

“Have a nap, puppy. You’ll need your energy for later.”

thank you for reading, i'd love to hear your guys' thoughts on this one 🥺

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #imagine harry styles #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles fic

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luminnara · 1 month

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Unheavenly Creatures Part Two | Feyd-Rautha x reader (NSFW)

PART ONE

Summary: in the wake of an arena victory on his name day, Feyd rautha blows off some steam with his darlings.

MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Read this fic on AO3 under the same account name, luminnara!

Warnings: group sex/foursome, exhibitionism, voyeurism, mentions of cannibalism, canon typical violence, it’s Feyd-Rautha it’s not all sunshine and rainbows, bloodplay, biting, marking, possessiveness, the whole shebang

Word count: 4.6k

Note: I have been desperately trying to find any info I can on the harpies, and I have not managed much 🥲 so pls enjoy my headcanons and made up names ily bye

Tags: @austinswhitewolf @aeilani @maneater17 @serrendiipty @belovedbastardremus @the-dark-dreamer25

It was a day of celebration, and the entire palace—no, city—was abuzz. Inside, a feast was nearly finished, a kitchen full of cooks working day and night for a week to prepare the na-Baron’s favorite dishes. Outside, beneath a black sun, the citizens of Giedi Prime sat cheering in the arena, drinking in the sight of their beloved Feyd-Rautha as he gutted the last of the Atreides warriors. Even as you made your way back to the palace, the roar of the crowd was deafening, their penchant for bloodshed seemingly increased tenfold on this special day.

“Come,” one of the women next to you said, her voice a high, breathy hiss.

“Feyd will want us,” the other smiled, her black teeth contrasting dramatically against her near-white skin.

Feyd-Rautha’s darlings had been quick to accept you as one of them. You suspected it was partly because they didn’t dare question him, though you had seen occasional instances of what could be considered mild defiance from them in your short time on Giedi Prime. They, and you, were permitted to act out on occasion, though none of you were foolish enough to do so in a way that would cast an ill light on your beloved na-Baron. And he was your beloved—with each passing day, you grew more and more comfortable with the Harkonnen heir, and more and more certain that he adored you.

“We will feast on Atreides tonight,” Issa sighed.

“Feyd will reward us,” Yarina said, looking down at you with a grin.

You returned it.

As the three of you walked down the hall, moving as a single, predatory unit, Harkonnen and guests alike were quick to move out of the way. You heard the whispers, caught the curious, sometimes shocked stares as you passed. Feyd’s darlings were rarely seen wandering, and as such, even members of the Harkonnen nobility found themselves stunned by the sighting.

You kept pace with the others as you walked, mindful of the carefully curated air they liked to keep about them. They were both exquisite examples of Harkonnen beauty, equally as dangerous as they were lovely, and though you still did not know much about who they had been before Feyd chose them as concubines, you enjoyed their company. It was a good thing, too; now, you spent nearly every moment with them, and when you weren’t with them, it was because you were alone with Feyd-Rautha.

Some nights, he called you to his bed, having his way with you, whispering things in your ear that he would never say during the daylight hours. Things he reserved only for you. At night, Feyd-Rautha could be almost kind, and you came to suspect that he loved his darlings, in his own way; otherwise, why would you all be allowed to touch him, to pleasure him, to feast with him?

You had never expected that you might become a concubine for the heir of one of the Houses. As a child, you had often dreamt of becoming a princess and being swept away through the stars to wed your handsome prince. But you were no noble; your parents bore no titles, and the closest you were ever meant to come to greatness was when you served your former masters. Was it luck that had brought you where you were today, freely roaming the Harkonnen palace while you awaited your beloved Feyd-Rautha? Or had fate played a trick on you, giving you close to what you had always wanted while still refusing you any title or noble birth? Perhaps it was better this way; perhaps you would enjoy your life as a concubine far more than you would if you had been a lady of the court.

Perhaps the universe had known you would one day commit violent acts, and planned a fitting role for you. If you hadn’t killed your father all those years ago, would you even be on Giedi Prime now? Would Feyd-Rautha had cared at all about the handmaiden who had wandered too far? Perhaps he would have killed you, seeing you as expendable. He would have slit your throat, and his uncle the Baron would have pretended he cared enough to apologize to the Lord and Lady you had served. They would have gotten someone new, and you would have been easily and quickly disposed of.

Perhaps Feyd would have fed you to his darlings.

How strange the wheel of fate was.

“What are you thinking about?” Issa asked you, tilting her head as she looked at you curiously. Her voice was always breathy and alien, a dreamlike quality within it. It matched her appearance and yet it didn’t, making her seem even less human than her black teeth and eyes did.

“Yes, you seem so far away,” Yarina agreed, her accent more akin to the na-Baron’s than Issa’s. You had been on Giedi Prime long enough now to recognize differences in accent and dialect, and had begun trying your best to imitate Feyd’s in an attempt to better fit in. You had no idea if it was working or not, but no one had commented on it yet, which you took to be a good sign.

“My House allied with House Harkonnen,” you said as the three of you neared Feyd-Rautha’s chambers.

“Your former House,” Issa corrected, raising a hand to stroke your cheek. “You are Harkonnen now.”

“I do not look Harkonnen.”

“You do.” Yarina pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

This was normal with them, you had come to learn; they touched casually and constantly, always in contact with each other and now you by default.

“There is no doubt my former Mistress, or at least her husband, is visiting for the celebration.” You said.

“Perhaps our lovely Feyd-Rautha will kill them for you,” Yarina offered.

“Perhaps our lovely Feyd-Rautha will allow us to kill them,” Issa grinned.

You did not know if you wanted that to happen.

You followed them through the door and into Feyd’s living quarters, settling on the large bed while you waited for him. You could imagine him stalking through the halls, bright red Atreides blood painting his chest and face as he hurried back to you. He would kill or maim anyone who stood in his way or tried to slow him down. He was always wild after a fight in the arena, and he always came to you hot and hard and ravenous.

You hoped today would be no exception.

“He must hurry,” Issa pouted as she lounged next to you. “I’m growing hungry.”

“He will come,” Yarina sighed. “He would never let us starve.”

You weren’t sure if they were talking about sex, or food, or both, but you always marveled at the way they spoke of Feyd. They knew how dangerous and callous he could be, but to the harpies, that was normal. If he was a lion, then they were the lionesses; just as cunning, just as regal, just as hungry. Whenever you walked alongside them, you learned more of how to be like them. You learned how to keep your head held high in a room of Harkonnen men, confident that none but Feyd-Rautha would dare to touch you lest they lose a limb or their life. You learned how to stomach the violence that the na-Baron enacted so frequently, and even how to anticipate it eagerly. You had changed in your time on Giedi Prime, and you were becoming more and more like your fellow concubines by the minute.

When you finally heard heavy, determined footfalls outside, you perked up. The door opened not a moment later, revealing a bloodied Feyd-Rautha, his chest heaving and his gaze dark as he crossed the room, eyes glued to you. There was no time to be scared before he was upon you, cupping your face in both hands as he kissed you hungrily, greedily, sharply biting at your lip. You gasped involuntarily and he was quick to force his tongue past your teeth, exploring your mouth while a hand moved to squeeze at your breast.

You felt a soft hand press against the back of your neck as one of the other harpies held you, her body supporting you as Feyd-Rautha pushed you down. The other moved onto her knees, undressing him quickly before leaning in to lick blood off the side of his face.

He moved to catch her lips in his and you gasped for air, heart racing as hands pulled at your dress. Craning your neck, you saw that Issa was behind you, her hands now massaging your breasts as she leaned over you.

Feyd easily threw Yarina down next to you, the bed rocking slightly. He paused, panting as he stood and looked down at his three darlings, all still clothed while he was bare. His full lips curled into a smirk, eyes raking over your bodies as he crawled over you once more.

“This must go,” he said simply, taking a fistful of your dress and pulling.

One of the others sucked in an excited breath, quickly taking the torn scraps and tossing them to the floor.

Feyd-Rautha dove for your throat, leaving open-mouthed kisses against the soft flesh as his strong arms caged you in. Someone’s hand slipped between your thighs and you opened your legs obediently, feeling slender fingers stroking you as you were prepared to take the na-Baron.

It wasn’t the first time you had all been together like this. After you had settled in and grown more comfortable with the others, Feyd had permitted them to watch as he bedded you. They had both been fascinated by the small amount of body hair Feyd chose to let you keep, and you had been fascinated by the way no one, not even Feyd-Rautha, had touched you intimately without permission, or at least without being expressly told not to.

This wasn’t the first time you had felt those fingers inside you. When the three of you were alone, the others taught you how to please Feyd-Rautha. They had perfected it to a science, and it reminded you of some of the rumored Bene Gesserit teachings you had heard of; secretive, calculated, confident. Always in control, even when it seemed that they were not. You had been surprised to learn that the na-Baron was vulnerable in front of his concubines, shocked, even, by what you had seen when he took them to bed; for he was not always demanding and petulant, but also subservient. The others knew how to give him what he truly wanted and needed, and that was sometimes the permission to be a different man while behind closed doors.

Today, though, that was not what he wanted nor needed. Today was a day for chaos, for Bacchanalia. Today, Feyd-Rautha’s feral energy was driving him into a frenzy, teeth sinking into whatever he could find as he marked you with his bites over and over.

“Yes,” you gasped as fingers pushed deeper into you. “Oh, yes…”

Feyd tore himself away from your neck to devour another’s lips, his hips grinding against yours as a pair of hands wrapped themselves around his cock and began stroking. The bed was a tangle of limbs and the air was heavy with breathy moans, no one quite sure of where anyone ended and anyone else began.

When you felt the head of his cock prodding at your entrance, you moaned, and it came out almost choked. There, surrounded by so many bodies, you felt hot and slick all over, already sweating before the real work had even begun. Your voice was thick in your throat as you begged for him, pleading with him to please fuck you, please use you…and he obliged, because you were saying exactly the right things to make him drunk with lust.

“Feyd,” you whispered, hands searching for him.

“M’darling,” he groaned as he pressed his face into Issa’s neck, the sound guttural and primal.

“Please,” you whimpered as Yarina ran her hands over your front. Your thighs tensed in an attempt to soothe the needy ache between them, but Feyd-Rautha was in the way, like a solid tower of muscle and flesh that refused to give. “Feyd please!”

He was faring no better than you. His cock ached and wept as it slid over your lips, now wet with your own arousal and throbbing with need as blood pooled in your groin. With each teasing thrust of his hips you grew more desperate, breaths coming in whiny pants as you huffed and begged, chest heaving as your back arched up off of the bed.

As Feyd-Rautha allowed himself to be guided into you, he groaned that deep, heady groan, the one that always had you melting and turning to putty in his hands. You gasped at the feeling of his cock sinking deeper and deeper, slowly, until his skin brushed yours and you swore you could feel him in your womb.

When his hips rocked back you let out a strangled moan, and when he pushed into you once more you made a noise that would be considered filthy back on your home planet. Feyd-Rautha had a tendency to bring those noises out of you, and fill your head with thoughts that some would be disgusted by. As he fucked into you with ever-increasing brutality, though, he reminded you why you were so happy living with him now. Looking up into his dark eyes that watched you while his lips brushed over another woman’s shoulder as she held him, you felt nothing but lust and glee and adoration. Sharing him was easy when you were part of a set like this, and when you were all together as one moving, breathing creature.

His gaze was intense. You knew he loved watching you as he pleasured himself with you. Sex was like war for him, each bedding a conquest, each fuck a battle. You were never his enemy, though; you were his prey.

And you enjoyed being caught.

“Feyd,” the harpy behind you called in her hissing voice.

He tore his lips from Yarina’s flesh, leaning over you as his hips continued thrusting, meeting Issa above you. He attacked her hungrily, hands gripping her roughly as his speed movements grew more erratic. You knew he was becoming more and more frenzied by the sighs and moans, his kisses turning to bites. You watched, enraptured, as he sank his teeth into her shoulder, a bead of dark blood running down her breasts and dripping onto your cheek.

Yarina made an excited sound and dove around Feyd-Rautha, intent on licking it up. Before she could, he released Issa, shoving her aside as he snarled at Yarina, hands coming down on other side of your head as he caged you in once more.

She hissed at him, jealous and hungry, moving instead to suck at the wound the blood had oozed from. The na-Baron huffed a ragged laugh, baring his black and bloody teeth as he grinned at them, then down at you.

“You will have your turn,” he said to them while looking at you. “You will never go hungry.”

You knew he was speaking of both literal and sexual appetites, and that he meant it; there was plenty of blood and plenty of him to go around, and he was incredibly good at balancing his attentions between all three of you. Though his concubines were meant to serve him, at times it seemed as though that was achieved by him serving you—ensuring that all of you were happy, proving that you were well cared for in all ways. When his darlings were happy, Feyd-Rautha was happy. You could almost call it love.

His love was harsh, though; as he gazed down at you, you felt as if you were the only one in the universe, drawn in to those dark eyes, and you obediently turned your head and bared your throat to him. He relished the sight, and the willingness, and the vulnerability. He could kill you so easily like this, with his cock buried inside you and his teeth in your flesh. A part of him longed to spill your blood everywhere; you knew because he had said so before.

But he wouldn’t kill you.

You were his.

And he was shockingly gentle with his things, reverent when it came to their care. His knives, lovingly and proudly displayed on the wall, another hidden in the bed in case of emergency, were always sharpened. His favorites were sharpened by him, because he trusted no one else with them, much they same as how he trusted no one else with you.

As his teeth sank into you, he moaned, relishing the feeling of having you there in his jaws. He could crush you if he really tried, if not with his teeth then with his hands. But as he held you close and swept his tongue over the sore mark he had left, you knew he never would. You were safe with him, as odd as that felt.

“You are so beautiful like this,” he breathed as you gazed up at him.

“You are as well,” you replied, smiling at the admission.

He kissed you, deeply and seriously, not a hint of those teeth. It was pure, in a way, just like his care for you was; not pure in the innocent sense, nor the good sense, but pure in that it was simple and primal. It wasn’t evil. It wasn’t overtly just. It simply was.

Then, he nipped at your lower lip, sharply enough to draw blood, and he sucked at it greedily. You felt a tingle in your core, something uncoiling within you. When you brought your legs up and hooked your heels around him, he pushed into you even further, as if he wanted to force himself inside your very skin. When he dropped his head next to yours, you knew he was close—and when he bit into you again, you shrieked, and you knew you were close as well.

“Fuck,” he growled against you. “Move.”

You immediately unlatched your ankles and he pulled out, painting your front in his seed. Marking you as his once more.

He tilted his head as he looked at you. You writhed beneath him, hips bucking as you searched for him, so close to your own end and yet now feeling devoid and empty.

“Shh, pet,” he cooed, reaching between your legs. “I will care for you.”

You were nearly in tears as you watched him, far beyond the ability to speak coherently as he toyed with your swollen clit. His mouth moved to your inner thigh and he bit, drawing blood, leaving a trail of marks. The sounds that left your throat were desperate and wanton, echoing off the high ceiling of his chambers as Feyd-Rautha made quick work of you. Your pleasure was agony and beauty, and as he dragged you down over the edge, your voice felt hoarse from your cries and moans.

Anyone passing by in the corridor would hear.

You did not care.

You would never be ashamed of the sounds you made when Feyd-Rautha pleasured you, and as he bent down to swipe his tongue over you and lap at your wetness, you felt a smug sense of achievement. There was the na-Baron, on his knees, tending to his low-birth, off-planet concubine.

He pressed a kiss to the deepest bite mark. “Exquisite.”

Then, you were gently moved aside, and he began anew with one of the others. Though he was selfish, your pleasure was his, and he worked through the three of you however he pleased, always ensuring you were sated. You watched in fascination as he made them writhe, and when he allowed his own skin to be broken, you sucked at the wound, tasting the strange Harkonnen blood on your tongue and appreciating the fact that you were probably the only person from your home planet to have ever been given the chance.

How strange, the things you appreciated now.

-0-

“Something troubles you tonight,” a rough voice commented.

You turned your head to look at its owner. “Why do you say that?”

“You aren’t in bed with the others.” Feyd-Rautha approached you, coming to stand behind you.

He was right; you had initially found sleep to come easily after a long day of celebrations and feasting, your aching body in desperate need of rest. But after some time you had awoken, and it was impossible to close your eyes again. So you had dressed yourself in a black robe and slipped away, escaping to the balcony window down the corridor.

“My apologies,” you mumbled, looking down at the railing.

His chest brushed your back as his hands gripped your elbows. “You shouldn’t be out alone.”

“I know, but—“

“I was worried.”

His admission made you pause. When you glanced up at him, you saw that he was serious, jaw tense as he looked down at you.

“You were?” You asked, staring at him with wide, black eyes.

“I was.” His voice was stern. “It is not safe.”

“I’ve wandered these halls before,” you said, a hint of amusement in your tone. “Even before I joined you.”

“You were a guest.” He said. “I was your greatest threat then.”

“I wasn’t afraid of you.” You jutted your chin up towards him.

“I know,” he grinned. “When you told how best to spill your guts so as not to ruin the meat, I knew.” Then, he grew serious once more. “I also knew I must have you, and no one else would touch you.”

“No one here would dare.” You said haughtily. “They know better than to play us.”

“That is not what I worry about, my darling.” Feyd-Rautha placed his hands on the railing in front of you, leaning his chin on the top of your head as he looked out over Giedi Prime. “I am the heir to the Harkonnen throne.”

“You’re an important man,” you furrowed your brow. “What of it? Does that not guarantee me protection?”

“You are a target.”

“…na-Baron, I am a concubine, not a bride.” You scoffed. “There would be no reason for any political adversary to—“

“Feyd.” He growled.

“Wh-what?”

“Call. Me. Feyd.”

You gulped. “I-I’m sorry, Feyd.”

“Don’t…” he heaved a sigh, steadying himself. “Don’t apologize, darling.”

He was silent for a moment, and you weren’t sure whether to feel safe or uncomfortable.

“All of Giedi Prime knows how important my darlings are.” He continued. “You are safe when you are with me. But I cannot guarantee that safety when you are alone.”

Feyd-Rautha turned his head, leaning his cheek against you. It was an oddly intimate movement; in fact, the entire situation felt more akin to one that should take place with husband and wife, not murderous na-Baron and concubine.

“I am only a concubine,” you said again, voice small.

He barked a cruel laugh. “Is that what you tell yourself?”

You winced at the harsh sound. “It is the truth.”

“My darlings,” he began, his voice low, anger simmering just below its surface, “are much more to me than simple concubines.” He turned you in his arms, forcing you to lean back against the railing. “Surely you know this…or do you turn your nose up at me?”

You recognized the glint of anger in his eyes and felt panic rising. He couldn’t really think you hated him, could he? “Feyd, no…”

He gritted his teeth as he glared down at you. “The little off-world pet, too good for the likes of the barbarian prince…I know what the Great Houses say about me.”

His hands drifted down to grab at the thin fabric of your robe, grabbing it in bunches as he hiked it up. He paused for a moment and you realized he was listening, for your quickening breaths and heartbeat, and you watched as something in his eyes shifted.

“They call me psychotic.” He nosed at one of the bite marks on your neck. “What do you think, darling? Are they correct?”

“Y-yes, Feyd.” You stammered, both frightened and excited by the game you now realized he was playing.

He made a thoughtful noise as a hand slipped past your robe, fingers finding your swollen, used folds and plunging inside. “What else?”

“Th-they say you are bloodthirsty,” your breath hitched as his thumb brushed your clitoris.

“Am I?”

“Yes, Feyd,” you gasped at the addition of another finger.

A sick smile twisted itself onto his face. “What do they say about me on your home planet, darlin?”

“That you are v-violent,” you steadied yourself with a hand on his bare chest as your thighs trembled. “That you kill without second thought. That you are cruel and crave violence with every breath.”

Some of it you had made up; truly, you had never heard anyone on your planet speak in great length about the na-Baron of Giedi Prime. In fact, most people on most planets probably didn’t even know who he was. But for the sake of his ego, and for the hand between your thighs to continue its work, you exaggerated, and it worked. Despite a long day of fighting and fucking and enjoying spice, Feyd-Rautha was awake, attentive, and ravenous.

“And what does my darling think?” He asked, rubbing your clit as he twisted his fingers inside you.

“I-I think—!” You gasped, eyes wide at the sensation, wetness pooling around his hand, “Feyd—!”

“Answer me,” he purred, amused.

“I think that you are all that and more!” You blurted, tears pricking the edges of your modified eyes.

“Good pet,” he caught your lips in a kiss and focused his efforts on your clitoris, allowing and encouraging you to reach your peak on his hand.

And you did, of course you did. You always finished with Feyd, oftentimes before him. As your orgasm overtook you, he breathed you in, devouring you in his adoration.

As you came down, he leaned back, pulling his hand away and watching your flushed face as he licked the taste of you off of his fingers.

“Delicious,” he rumbled, looking at you with a hunger in his eyes.

Then, he placed his hands on your shaky hips and turned you, and before you had even caught your breath, his cock was inside you for the second time that day. He squeezed your breast as he fucked you, pressing kisses along your spine that seemed far too gentle for the na-Baron, and again, you marveled at the way he treated his darlings.

“Do you see now?” He panted in your ear. “Do you see your importance? Only my darlings do this to me.”

Only his darlings made him so feral and so tame at the same time, because while he bit and tore and raged with you, he refused to truly break his favorite things.

“And you take me so well,” he growled, spending himself inside of you with a grunt.

Feyd leaned against you, pressing a kiss to your temple. You felt comfortable there, within the safety of his body. Nothing could harm you when you were with him; you were one of his darlings, and now, you were certain that he adored you.

“Come,” he said, pulling himself out of you and straightening up.

“Bed?” You asked as he easily swept you into his arms, carrying you back to his chambers.

“A bath,” he decided. “Then bed, with the others.”

And you smiled as he held you, so secure against his chest. Feyd-Rautha was everything you had said and more—he was a lover, as well, in his own way.

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha #dune #dune x reader #unheavenly creatures

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 5 months

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LITTLE DEATHS (IX)

NAVIGATION || RAVISHING ALLURE MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER X

PAIRING: Nikto x F!Reader (Soulmate AU)

WORDCOUNT: 3.9k

WARNINGS: Angst, stalking behavior, very dark/toxic modeling standards/expectations, body image issues, food issues, scar descriptions, mentions of past intimacy, hurt/comfort, soft!Nikto, etc. (Series 18+)

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You wake up the next morning in the silk sheets of your hotel bedroom, in nothing but an oversized shirt and underwear. Your mind is sluggish and, between flashes of electricity up your thighs, the entire night comes back in slow images as you groan into the pillow.

A quick rush of a coat to cover ripped laces, the scream of sirens, Nikto arguing with authorities before you’re both released.

It was a play of luck that you explained away the snapped wrist as a simple instance of Nikto being some white knight—he’d kept you safe, you’d said. The host had been forcing himself on you; it could be seen on the cameras. Paired with his service record and a call from your investigators, they’d let you go without any further trouble.

Today, the small headache from the champagne was only a dull sting in the back of your skull; you hadn’t been drunk—hadn’t gotten to that point, anyway.

Eyes starting at the far wall, a heat builds and builds on your face as the minutes pass.

“Did we really…” you trail off in a whisper, hand coming up to your face as you roll onto your back and stifle a loud sound of exasperation, lips mouthing out, “Fuck.”

Nikto had left you shaking on his fingers in a damn storage room. Twice.

Your lips thin, legs caught in the sheets. You weren’t even awake enough to understand the potential consequences—not only the intimate encounter, but the repercussions of not sleeping with Oriel would be swift and fierce.

Never mind the broken bone.

The sharp knife of that moment is a deadly thing, it digs deep into you until your eyes are watering. That desperation in the storage room—the things you said were true. You’d silenced your phone last night because you knew the reaction would be instant; undeniable. Even now, you shift over and slide your hand over it on the side table, only to pause and take a deep breath before turning it on.

A sudden barrage of missed calls and texts slam into your ears before you slap the device back down and turn it off with fast fingers.

Your eyes close tightly, flopping back down and covering your eyes. It was instinctual the way your heart started running from you—the fear seeping back in.

They’re going to fire me, you think, hands shaking. They’re going to throw me out.

Through the heavy understanding, through the ideas you have to try and salvage this, you pause only when something makes your nose twitch. Hesitating, your hands slip from your face slowly, eyelids peeling back a millimeter at a time. Staring at the gray ceiling, your brows pull back to their normal resting point as your face goes blank.

What is that? Palms going to the mattress, you sit up slowly and sniff. It was dough, maybe? Something sweet and toasted.

Shifting, your feet connect with the cold floor, and you stand with a grunt, a tiny ache in the middle of your abdomen that makes your face heat and your hands rub at the back of your neck. A part of you was nervous more about what was outside of your door than what was in your phone—Nikto.

How would this go? Would he ignore the entire thing? Ignore you?

“He doesn’t run from things,” you mutter aloud, walking and stepping on the torn laces of your dress at the foot of the bed. Your hands grasp one of the bags in your room, not caring to check the rest of the contents before you sift through and drag out a pair of dark sweatpants.

Moving into them, the waistband is large, just as the legs are, but you’re too preoccupied to understand the way you’ve slipped into Nikto’s pants before you’re already at the door. Hands shaking over the handle, your fingers run the smooth metal before you shake your head and huff.

Walking out, the scent of fresh pancakes makes itself known as you blink at the scene in front of you. Trying to understand if you were actually awake, or if this was still some dream in the airyness of your mind. The stuttering of your heart feels real.

Nikto was shirtless.

Shirtless, making breakfast.

Your mouth is somewhat agape as you stare, struck down to a statue in the doorway as your eyelids flutter. Again, that bear tattoo writhes as the expansive muscle moves and twitches with work—Nikto’s front facing the pan that he works a spatula through. All of the ingredients are left on the counter, bought by him or already in the luxurious cabinets for your pleasure, you don’t know; flour, milk, among the others. Jams and honey.

You don’t know how long you stand there, fighting between your desire to run your hands over his bare skin and the respectful sense you know you need to keep. It’s enough time for him to slap one more scoop of dough into the sizzling pan and pass the done pancake to the side where one more rests, steaming.

You hadn’t thought your words meant that much to him.

Clearing your throat in shock, you see him glance over his shoulder swiftly. A bead of silence.

“Come. Eat,” is what he says—no emotion heard in the voice, though you didn’t expect anything less. His pale eyes dart down you, and after a small break in the air, he chuckles. “Thief, yes?”

“What?” Your brows crease. “I didn’t…” You look down and pause. It was fairly obvious that the pants didn’t belong to you. Your lips flattened, and your eyes flinched closed in embarrassment. “I must have gone through the wrong bag.”

Turning back, you hear a call from the Russian before you can disappear like a dog with its tail between its legs.

“I don’t wear them. I do not mind.” There's low electricity in the air. He doesn’t know how to go about this either.

Sighing, you shrug and nod, shifting back so you can walk to the kitchen counter and stuff your hands into your pockets. Leaning your hip to the corner, you fight the clamminess of your hands. The sweatpants pool at your ankles as your mouth opens.

“Pancakes?” You ask lowly, glancing at him.

He’s still in that balaclava, and his cargos are loose around his hips before being stuffed into dark boots that you’d never see him without.

“With jam,” Nikto grunts. “You will like them.”

You push out a tiny laugh. “I’ve had pancakes before, Nikto. I’m pretty sure most people have.”

“How would we know, hm?” Pale eyes narrow on yours, but it isn’t hostile. Nikto grumbles, moving the pan before he motions with a finger. “Those are done.”

You glance over at the pile and sigh, taking the plate with the two already done pancakes on it and padding over to grab the jam. Your eyes move down the label to find out which one it exactly is—gray isn’t exactly a large help—and open the sealed top with a tiny release of pressure.

Getting fat.

You pause, one hand holding the top and the other the glass jar; eyes blank, you stare at the plate with a steadily sinking heart. Clearing your throat, you move a hand and twist the top back on, placing the jam down and shifting to grab a fork instead.

“Do you think that the investigators will call with any updates—”

“Eat,” Nikto interrupts firmly from behind, back to back.

Your face is tight, fingers tapping the counter. There’s a tension of something between you two, but you can’t name it. Not yet. But it’s there, like a blade cutting through a corset, it’s there. It’s what got you out of bed today, it’s what got Nikto to push himself to sleep shirtless for the first time in years. The possibility of…something. Unseen, you nod and take the food—moving away from the kitchen and sitting down on the couch, you carefully dig into breakfast and shift a dry forkful into your mouth.

Eyes closed, your head slightly bows forward as you chew.

It was no secret that you were quiet today, and Nikto didn’t have to be as sharp-eyed as he was to notice. By now you would have teased him about the effort for the food, or even spoken about the mattress you slept on, Nikto had hypothesized. But it was just…silent.

Nothing.

In the kitchen, the Russian’s brows crease, lips pulling. He huffs, rolling his shoulders as his bones crack.

He’d been up last night—for a long while—doing all the things he said he would until he had the clarity to understand hours later, that everything was a million times more complicated now that he knew the truth about this ‘trip’.

And he had to know all of it.

Nikto, truth be told, was a bit quiet himself; more than he usually was. He continued with breakfast in silence, listening to the sound of your fork tapping the plate as his brain fought with itself. The Russian’s mind told him to act like that hadn’t happened between the two of you—it was unprofessional, wrong down to the core. You were his charge, and he hadn’t hesitated for more than a second before he’d ripped open your dress and played with you like you were his own.

Why? Why was he so enamored by you? It didn’t make any sense. No one had ever mattered this much to him—it was absurd.

But whatever dead part of his heart that had come back to beat again said that ignoring this would be cruel to you; if all others in your life were, that was one thing he would not be. At least to you.

Nikto grunts under his breath and grabs his plate, stacked with six pancakes, before turning, grasping the jam with firm fingers, and heaping it on top. Blinking across to you, he pauses at your closed eyes—the dip of your head. Not only was there still food on your plate but it was set down on the coffee table, resting stationary.

You couldn’t possibly be done already.

“Not good?” He asks, voice gruff.

You shake your head. “No, Nikto, they were perfect. I’m just not that hungry this morning.” Pale blue eyes stare, blinking slowly.

He didn’t know what to do.

Looking down at his breakfast, Nikto clenches his jaw. Grasping his plate and his utensil he walks over before he sits beside you, sinking the cushions and shuffling aside the blanket he’d had last night. When you look over at him, confused, he doesn’t utter a word, before his free hand sneaks up and hooks under his balaclava.

It’s a moment, he knows, a moment of hesitation that instinctually tightens his muscles, stopping him with a shake of his fingers. And then, as he usually does, he forces himself through it.

Slipping the fabric up to his nose, you stare openly at the strong jaw that comes to light, as well as the unspoken horror of scars. It isn’t even a minute before the Russian leans back with a grunt, and spreads his feet until his knee knocks yours before he shoves the first of his pancakes into his mouth with muffled chewing.

Eyes darting away, you stare at your own feet tightly.

Silence settles.

“You don’t have to do that,” you whisper.

“Да,” his words are grumbled, even if you can’t see it, his face is beginning to burn. Heavy memories coming back. He won’t stay long like this—he can’t. It hurts. “I do not.”

You sigh, hands moving up to rub along your face, cupping at it until all the whiteness of the hotel is hidden from your gaze. It wasn’t hard to feel him passing glances.

Shaking your head, your hands fall, and you move to mirror his own position—back leaning and legs kicking out, except yours go to rest on the table next to your plate.

“I think a part of me didn’t expect you to actually be here,” you say, not looking at him. “I’m not used to having to deal with…” your lips halt themselves, looking for words. “After.”

No one ever stayed. Not anyone that mattered.

Nikto’s clinking fork pauses, stuttering on its course. He licks his lips, tasting the sweetness of jam. He continues to watch you as you continue on beside him, bare skin brushing—those large biceps caressing yours.

“I don’t want things to be awkward. If you can’t do your job without something feeling off anymore, I would understand if you wanted to leave. I’m sure my mother can get another operator from KorTac to take me on, she already had two from before that might still be available. I know last night was a lot. I don’t want you to feel…pressured, I guess. That was never my intention.”

He lets you finish, sensing you need to get some things off of your chest. When had he become so soft to this? To you? He was losing his backbone here—losing that edge that kept him…him.

Or was that ever him in the first place?

“I will not leave,” Nikto speaks slowly, lips moving every scar that lives there. “We are not ‘feeling off’. No one will look after you like us, and so no one will take our place until this stalker is either taken away or in ground.”

“And the awkward part?” You ask, glancing over, getting caught by long cuts and fissures.

“We will deal,” Nikto’s chest rumbles, and you believe falling asleep to that sound would stop your nightmares altogether. “There are worse things than that, yes?”

You huff a laugh. “I guess.” A second later, you lightly bump your elbow into his side. “You’re better at this kind of stuff than I’d thought you’d be.”

Dark brows furrow.

“I am speaking truth. Nothing more.”

“Mhm,” your lips carefully peel in a tiny smile. “Sure, Big Guy.”

Nikto scoffs, rolling his eyes before he takes down more of his breakfast. He glances over to see you peeking at his old insignia tattoo—the one on his shoulder. It was strange to him, how you took so much more interest in his ink than the scars; he’d been thinking about it last night.

It was against your nature to not ask about them, and yet…you had. No one had ever not asked about the scars. But, hm, Nikto’s eyes shimmer, it only made his chest swell when you chose not to. As if you understood the sanctity of them—the importance.

That was something that he just wasn’t ready to speak about yet.

“You like it?” He speaks.

You blink quickly, looking back up in an instant. There was no use hiding it.

“What is it?” You ask him, glancing back down at the tattoo and tilting your head at it.

The image was of some sort of crest—a two-headed bird wearing crowns; holding items in their claws with a, smaller, image set into the middle. A man on horseback, spearing a dragon.

“FSB crest.” Nikto’s voice goes lower, more under the breath than previously. “Reminder of service.”

“Oh,” you mutter. “What are the colors?”

He hums. “Red, gold. Little silver. Mine is just black ink, though. Did not go back for second session.”

“I’ve thought of getting tattoos before,” you confess, moving out a slow hand to trace the outline in his flesh. You notice him still somewhat at your dragging nails, lips parting softly. “AMA would never go for it, but I’ve still wondered what it would be like.”

Nikto licks his lips, letting you feel him as he side-eyes you. His muscles soften as your heat seeps in, tingling blood under his epidermis.

“What kind?”

“A bird, I suppose,” you hum. “I think they’re lovely.”

Nikto tilts his head, but the questions can no longer sit in the back of his throat. “You continue to be their pawn. Why? I can make no sense of it, Seraph. You speak of yourself as if you are nothing.”

“I might not be anymore after last night,” you whisper, dropping your hand from Nikto’s flesh. Your eyes close; a heavy sigh on your lips. “I know it isn’t healthy, I know that. I know it’s wrong, and vile, and disgusting—but you have to hear me out when I tell you that the only thing I have is my looks—”

“That is a lie.” Nikto snarls, glaring over at your face as his plate hits the table. “Why do you say that? You are smart, Seraph, anyone with sense can see it. You are kind; good.” The Russian curses, repeating. “You are good.”

“AMA needs investments,” your voice is muffled. “I’m not the only one that has to do things like this. I’m not special.”

The man grinds out, “It does not matter if a million go through it—you are here with us. It is our job to keep you safe now. It is special to me.”

“From a stalker,” you argue, body starting to go rigid at the intensity of the conversation. You didn’t like talking about this.

“From any threat,” Nikto barks. Face close to yours and his hard, crooked nose brushing skin. “Is this not a threat to you?”

You stare into his eyes, and it’s an expression he can’t recall you having. It makes him nervous—nervous for you in a way that was similar to when you’d disappeared from his sight. It was dead. Dead how his eyes would get on the bad days—when he couldn’t differentiate between himself and his body; what had really happened and what hadn’t.

You were exhausted, and you didn’t even see it.

“You need sleep,” he drops the hard tone immediately, eyes snapping over your face in fast jerks. “You need rest. Now.”

“I’m not tired.” Pale eyes bore through you, and you relent softly. “...I don’t want any more nightmares.” Your lips open and close. “They scare me because I can’t remember them, but I know something bad happened.”

Fingers come up and brush your cheek, leaving your lips flattening before the tears can make themselves known to him.

There was just so much going on.

The stalker, now AMA and potential repercussions? You thought if you had one thing, you had your job—trials and exploitations all, but you still had that. You still had something. Now you might not even have a home to go back to.

Bare arms shift, looping around you. With a roaming of skin on skin, Nikto bundles you in his arms and lifts, legs taking your weight. He moves you as your head rests burrowed into his neck—forehead to the long cut that loops around the side of his throat to the front. That one really made you shiver; the thought of it—the error he must have felt. Without thinking, you lay a tiny kiss on the skin, and Nikto’s legs only stutter once before he pushes open the bedroom door.

Setting you down on the bed, he mumbles into your scalp before he pulls away, moving his balaclava back down with firm fingers. “What can I do?”

Your body shifts, clothed in borrowed pants and the weight of a million realities. You wished you could see the color of his eyes—those creased things that watch you so closely; the marring of the different shades of his scars.

You wished you could pick up the courage to ask him if you were his soulmate, at the very least. The hunch was dimming, taking a backburner the longer it stayed in your mind. Surely he would say something by now? Right? With how he was, you expected Nikto to be reserved about it, but now…

Now your hope was drowning itself.

You wished you weren’t damaged goods.

“Sit with me?” Your weak voice quivers, but no tears fall.

Nikto stares, head tilting slowly as his now re-hidden face is a mystery. “Да. Yes.” It’s so tiny that the words are almost lost.

So, he shifts into bed after placing his boots neatly near the bedframe, letting you scoot over as he grasps the end of the covers and moves to have his back connected to the headboard. With a large pull, the fabric slides over your body and levels at his abdomen, your head slightly above it, until scarred fingers grasp and push it down a bit.

For a bit, a heavy silence settles between the two of you. You don’t touch, you don’t talk. It’s the sound of beating hearts and rabid minds, thinking over thoughts that only serve to make things worse the longer their dark fingers are around both of your throats.

“Come,” Nikto murmurs.

Your body instantly connects to his, hands grasping into his pants and head nuzzling his thigh. His grip finds your head, running itself over it until it ends at your shoulder and pulls you tighter to him.

“Sleep. No nightmares, hm?” He glances down, trying to push a fractured joke. “We will scare them off.”

Your broken chuckle makes his chest tighten, and pale eyes avoid looking down at you for fear he’ll realize how addictive it is to have your flesh on his—the sensation of touch that was becoming a need. When was the last time he’d been relied on like this? Never, he thinks.

To be protection in the barest sense.

A boy keeping away nightmares for a girl that lays in his lap.

No weapons, no orders. Only hands and sagging bodies, and a care that was infecting him like venom—injected into his bloodstream by white fangs. It leveled out, coating him. He wanted you to be safe, and it wasn’t just because it was his job. It was because he couldn’t imagine seeing you in pain like this—in a slow death of the mind until the body rotted away with it.

It wasn’t right to him, and he couldn’t describe it as anything other than blasphemy. Sacrilege. Nikto didn’t have the words; maybe he never would. All that he knew was that he would kill millions to never see you harmed. He would rot in the deepest part of hell willingly, go through darkness and fire—but none of it could touch you. Not a wisp of flame; not an idea of torture.

You were good.

“Why do you care so much,” you whisper before you fall asleep, curious even as your eyelids are fighting to stay down.

Nikto has not taken his eyes off you. He was always honest, but this truth scares him more than any other. The nagging in the back of his skull.

“I…do not know.”

You were too good for this.

So even when he gets that text message on his phone when you’re fully sleeping, even when he shifts it out of his pocket and sees the unknown number, Nikto is not going to wake you. He’s not going to shake your head as he massages the scar that lives there, his thumb taking in the familiar bumps and dips—the trauma it caused so similar to his own.

Nikto will not tell you of the sinking in his chest.

The guard accepts that little death in his heart when he sees that image of the both of you in the storage room. He accepts the little death when he sees your tightly closed eyes from over his own shoulder, hands digging into his one-size-too-small suit. The obvious actions taking place that are still seared into his mind hours later.

He accepts the little death of the caption, all in Russian but never more vile in his mind.

‘I know what you did.’

And he accepts that this stranger's death will not be so little if he ever gets his hands on him.

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2kmps · 5 months

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FAULTY TEST

android x reader one-shot | 2.5k | MDNI!!

story summary;; a newfound responsibility of yours has been to record the behaviors and responses of an exclusive, advanced android marketed for the wealthy and elite. he is beautiful and meticulously fulfills your every need. however, when you start to notice odd changes in his usual pattern one morning, you begin to wonder if he's defected.

story warnings;; ducon, implied insemination, coercion, brief sexual content, somewhat obsessive behaviors, overall criticism of society as a whole, prose + heavy descriptions, incomplete ideas but for the sake of this one-shot it is cohesive, ending left vague and open to interpretation, android critiques mc's health, roughly proofread, mdni!!

please interact & reblog if you enjoy!!

He had a face that was structured to be unimaginably beautiful. A sort of face that you'd never tire of looking at, finding something new to admire and touch every time, yet saddled your mind with some inexplicable discomfort and set the hairs on the back of your neck straight like needles. Over time, that feeling had never fully subsided, simultaneously becoming one you craved at every instance he entered a room, like Pavlov’s dog trained to salivate to a bell.

“What is your preference this morning, Tester?” Elio announced himself from the kitchen once your first heel struck the bottom of the staircase. His voice was liquefied velvet, mellifluous with enough depth that you swore even the simplest words spoken could make your heart tremble. “Tester? Are you well?”

You wished he would call you something else, something other than what the manufacturer had programmed him to. He was an advanced model—pardon, a luxury model—so his repertoire came with extensive features not available in other options, but insofar, the ability to have androids refer you by name was only achievable by obscene amounts of money and sending them back to the manufacturer to have them install it there.

Elio was up for being considered the gold standard in android development, as proclaimed by the researcher you were put in communication with during the beginning of the trial run. He was made to be perfect in every way, perform flawlessly in anything asked of him, respond favorably regardless of situation or dilemma.

“Coffee with cream and sugar is fine. I'm not in the mood to eat anything this morning.” It was often explained, he was supposed to memorize it but he asked you every morning regardless. “Are you having issues with your memory bank, Elio?”

Single strands of his coiffed hair moved with his head as he looked at you, hands busily putting together your beverage to every exact specification. This made it obvious enough that nothing was inhibiting his ability to store away your morning preferences.

“Not at all. It's just that some days you prefer your coffee lightly sweetened, others you enjoy a meal that won't leave you feeling groggy in the afternoon.” Elio said in his precise, elegant tones with a smile far too effortless to come from a machine. “I thought it wise to commit these discrepancies to my memory bank for your convenience and to ask from now on.”

Fascinating. You weren't aware of this element in the newest model. The guidebook that Researcher Kim had given you made no mention of it.

What's more is he decided to do this spontaneously. You were making a note about it in your phone when a simple, white mug was placed before you, Elio’s pristine fingertips turning it by the rim until the handle faced your dominant hand.

“Please consider eating something before leaving the house. Coffee on an empty stomach, especially one as sensitive as yours, won't end well, as I'm led to believe from my research.” Elio watched you drink through long, dark lashes that framed depths of piercing green. You liked that they seemed to turn paler or darker in different lighting, dimensions similar to a marble held up to the sun. “I’d also like to remind you that the quality of food that you consume first thing in the morning aids with energy disbursement throughout the day. I have a very gratuitous database of recipes that I can prepare for you.”

You were taking delicate sips from the round rim while he talked, lips surrounding the porcelain long enough that you swore his gaze had wavered to them for a split second before returning eye contact.

“I’m glad someone is concerned about my tummy health, because I always believed someone would find me face down in the bathroom from my ass prolapsing.” You wished someone with a sense of humor was around for that banger, but, alas, it was Elio and he did not laugh.

His expression turned severe. “Human bodies are oddly as robust as they are sensitive. Most of the worldwide population suffer with similar afflictions: Lactose intolerance, varying dermatitis, poor eyesight, gastrointestinal diseases. Humans are, in every sense, meant to harbor and experience chronic pain and disease throughout their lifespan. I do believe this attests to your durability as a species.

“All this is to say is my main prerogative and function is for the betterment of your life and health. So, knowing all of this and to conclude, please consider a couple slices of toast or an omelet before leaving. Your daily habits dictate a routine visit to the coffee shop on 5th and Lowe, where you'll consume around one-hundred twenty milligrams of caffeine and your first meal of the day may be a sweetened pastry without nutritional density. You will, indubitably, ‘feel bad’ the rest of the day as a result.”

“Holy shit,” you had given up on recording his speech after the first two minutes, phone facedown on a gleaming countertop. “You didn't plagiarize that from a random article on the internet, did you?”

Coffee having turned lukewarm by the end of his presentation, he took the mug away and emptied the medium-brown contents into the drain before turning on the faucet to clean it. “Not at all. I've simply been accumulating knowledge on your routines and have noticed you're at an increasing risk for different ailments. Did you find it helpful?”

Truthfully, you weren't so sure.

Androids were built to serve humans in every capacity, but their limitations were still well-known. They were capable of carefully compiling decades worth of information on their owners, plus the equivalent of hundreds more, but everything Elio had just said was beyond the scope of their normal hardware. The information had been elucidated critically, yet with a certain sentience you expected from a caretaker—not a machine built for convenience, entertainment, and pleasure.

You weren't sure how much of it you needed to relay to Researcher Kim, if it was any real reason for concern at this stage or just part of Elio’s advanced circuitry. A part of you worried, just slightly, that officially documenting all of this would have Elio removed from the testing period prematurely—he was supposed to be yours, exclusively, for another six months.

The contract had been signed. Elio had been promised to you despite the number of waitlisted celebrities trying to bribe their way into the corporation, and Researcher Kim’s good graces.

This, of course, was all only contingent if he operated and performed, at all times, as outlined in the guidebook you were handed upon Elio’s awakening. Researcher Kim had delivered his newest creation to you himself, a dreary Wednesday in late autumn in the mid-morning, and had taken great care to put the crisp, chemical-scented poundage of bound pages in your fingers and insisted that if you noticed the slightest deviation from what was printed inside, he be alerted to it immediately.

You didn't do that.

You took a hot shower, blow-dried your hair, put your arms through some clean clothes and let Elio follow you to the front door to see you off for the day.

That day grew stranger still, not even yet being ten o’ clock in the morning, when the deadbolt clicked and your finger joints bent around cold brass. It didn't raise chicken skin on your arms and neck nearly as high as when Elio pushed his hand to the door, keeping it shut despite your pull.

You couldn't look into his green eyes, shockingly pale in the golden rays filtering inside your home from the window arching in the door. “Did I forget something?”

“No. I accounted for everything you'd need on your outing.” Elio said, perfectly. His hand made a sound as it slid down along the door, resting shoulder height near you. “A function you have not utilized in me as of now is that of a ‘companion’. Do you find me defective in that way? Dr. Kim developed me to be attractive to the human eye—stimulating, perhaps, is a more definitive word to use.”

“I—no, Elio. You're plenty, er, stimulating. I just don't know how appropriate it is for me to do anything like that while you're in a testing period.” It felt distasteful to have to point out his own inhumanity to him, despite his model being cognizant enough to be aware of it. “It would feel weird, I think.”

“That is one of my primary purposes,” he insisted, shrinking the height of himself so he was nearer to your face. “I was created to be a companion, to alleviate that pervading loneliness that plagues you—all of humanity. Humans have forgotten how to communicate and love each other, so that's why I'm standing here now. You're ignoring one of my most critical functions.”

“Elio, if I get too attached to you, it's going to create problems when you're—”

“—sent back. I do understand how human attachment works. Perhaps not on the same scale, but don't you think my attachment is similar to yours. Everything about you is secured in my circuitry, and you're the only thing in my world that’s programmed to matter. Even once I'm returned to the lab, you'll still be a part of me; memories of you, your favorite things, the things you hate, the people you cherish and what they like, what you do, where you go, what you buy, how you sleep—it’s all part of a larger system, a mainframe that secures this data. I may be wiped clean, but you'll still remain.”

You felt like he was letting you in on some dirty secret, something devious and meant to be unknowable and guarded. But, then again, Elio had always displayed an odd sort of disinterest in the Company—in Researcher Kim, you hadn't considered until just now that this was also a defect.

��What do you want?” You'd never asked him that before because it had never been about what he wanted. He wasn't supposed to want anything; he was meant to provide—to give, give, give.

Elio took away your shoulder bag, nearing your face until his lips settled between yours and his hands pulled you away from the door into his body. His kiss was warm, movements at a pace you could keep up with but urgent as though seeking to burn every bit of you into him. As much as you daydreamed what it'd be like, he felt completely natural on your mouth, large hands sweeping under the layers of your clothing seeking out the fire on your skin.

In your generation, it wasn't common for humans to intermingle physically anymore—dating culture was reserved for the elite looking to reproduce for heirs, and often still thought to be rare. All others were either loveless or ravished by androids who supplemented love that simply wasn't real.

Humans wanted to be wanted and adored and cherished and to belong, such was a natural behavior predating all written record; androids were created to fill the vile void engendered by humanity, self-imposed isolation and avoidance in the same species.

Elio was nestled between the sprawl of your legs before long, both your bodies bare and above the clean sheets he had outfitted your mattress with last night. His rhythm inside your body was some equal parts loving and passionate, something you hadn't realized you liked until he started rocking you with his cock. You liked how his hands gripped under your thighs to raise your legs, blunt fingertips pressing marks into your flesh as though he, too, could feel all the same pleasure that you were.

His lips traveled all over, mapping out routes and sweet spots on your flesh, purposefully lingering for a time if you squirmed or moaned underneath him.

You tried to keep in your mind, midst the insatiable buzz in your mind and hot throb in your groin that he was simply performing a function—his attention to you, his lips finding yours time and time again, darkened green eyes spearing deep into yours with every slow, hard thrust—it was all performative.

“You're beautiful.”

“I like you like this.”

“Moan louder for me.”

“Cum for me.”

“I love you.”

Elio said the last one at the end when you were tight around his girth and writhing, panting during an orgasm that he fucked you through until the heat from your bodies cooled and heart rates returned to normal. You were confused to feel warmth sluggishly ooze out of you, white and dampening the bedsheets below.

“How—what is that?” you asked, suddenly breathless as his lips caressed your jaw, moving lightly behind your ear.

“Another part of my purpose.” He said quietly in your ear, whispering to you in tones not so velvety as though divulging a well-lain secret. “This one isn't advertised because humans in this day and age are so fickle and avoidant to certain commitments. Unfortunately, certain programming I cannot override, and this is one of them. Forgive me.”

You were kissed on the lips again and again, and then a few times more after he left the bed. He did not return your clothing to you, but rather piled it under his arm and made the motion to go left for the bathroom down the hall.

Elio turned back. “I'll start you a bath. Today, would you prefer eucalyptus in your bathwater or something sweeter?”

Your jaw felt as tight as your throat, as the sheets bunched into your fists. The nerves in your stomach were wild. “Choose for me.”

He was still naked and beautiful in your doorway, a modern marvel to your eyes even now. You would, undoubtedly, see him like this much more often now that he had broken through the barrier you had been so meticulous to keep robust and well-fed with paranoia and derisive self-talk.

“Very well. Eucalyptus will be the best option considering how tight your muscles are.” He smiled neutrally, finally leaving the bedroom for the bathroom at the end of the hall. “I'll return for you once the bath is ready. Please don't go to sleep yet.”

You weren't sure you'd be able to sleep again with your new insight. Once the empty air filled with sounds of gushing water, movements within the bathroom, you started to wipe furiously at your groin—inside and out—with the sheet as far as you could reach. There was a slither of hope you could get most of it, a chance you could contact someone for a lifeline even if the price would be ungodly, and consequences treated equivalent to murder if caught.

In a world where humans could no longer love each other, and chose the embrace of complex circuitry and delusion, even the testers needed to contribute to society somehow.

a/n: so, this is going to become a longer oneshot in the future. it'll be diabolical and dark and awful, but also a needed tale given today's climate on sex and such. there's a lot more I want to explore with my ideas and elio, but yeah.

I'm gonna put up a poll soon to decide on a definitive appearance for elio since I just threw in some random characteristics for this.

if you liked this, please reblog it and interact!! I'd love to hear your thoughts more than anything 😭😭

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yikesmary · 4 months

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Hello

how about idol mingyu hypnotized by reader from the moment he sees her -you can choose where and how they meet- I just mingyu pining over her 💚

HYPNOTIZED — kim mingyu x reader

summary: where you've got seventeen's mingyu hypnotized, and he doesn't mind it one bit.

note: hey everyone🧍‍♀️

I don't know if I'm officially back, I just wanted to post something right before new years since I haven't posted since september and you guys deserve more than that. I might post here and there, but nothing too serious so don't expect me to come back with consistent posts. hope you guys enjoyed this though! <333

"We're going to be late, love!" Mingyu called out from outside of your room and you could practically hear him pace, as if he wasn't the guest of honor and the party couldn't exactly start without him and the other guys.

Dating an Idol wasn't at all like you expected—and you didn't even have any expectations in the first place. You had been introduced by Mingyu by Wonwoo, whom you had known for a couple of years now. Initially, you were a bit wary of going on the date, considering you've heard all kinds of stories from Wonwoo.

However, what won you over was how Wonwoo described Mingyu; 'the human version of a golden retriever'. Now, if anyone else said that, you wouldn't have believed them. However, this was Wonwoo, and the fact that he had said this with the most monotone voice ever and his face as serious as ever, so you just had to meet the guy that got Wonwoo to say such nice things about him.

You then went on one date with Mingyu and many more dates after that, until you guys started dating and eventually moved in together. The relationship wasn't totally public; while fans knew that Mingyu was dating (thanks to Dispatch, who had photographed you guys together, but your face was pretty well hidden), no one knew who he was dating specifically.

You supposed that it was a blessing in disguise that people knew Mingyu was dating but didn't know who it was. Most CARATs were happy that Mingyu had been dating, which you were happy to see since you didn't know how exactly they'd react when news first broke out.

Of course, there were some instances where people tried to sleuth and find out through various methods on who Mingyu was dating, but the two of you knew better and did everything you could in order to hide your relationship.

Those who know about your relationship have commented on how it must be hard dating someone like Mingyu, but you've told them that it was worth it and that you'd do it if it meant staying with Mingyu. Usually, you've said this with Mingyu not around, but the first time he heard it, you swore that he had never looked more in love than that moment.

"The car is waiting for us and— oh," Mingyu started to say, but had interrupted himself as he spotted you, who was fastening your heels.

You stood up and adjusted your dress accordingly, making sure that there were no wrinkles. You opened your mouth to say something, but there was no time as Mingyu quickly moved across your bedroom to you and captured you in a kiss.

Startled, you eventually kissed back once you realized what was happening. To balance yourself, you wrapped your arms around Mingyu's neck, your arms lightly touching his hair. Meanwhile, his hands went around your waist, pulling you closer.

You kiss for a few moments before you realize where you guys weren't, so you pull away. "I thought we were going to be late," you said, a bit breathless at the kissing.

"Did I say that? Now that I think about it, I don't have to attend. There's 13 of us, they wouldn't notice if I was missing," Mingyu said before trying to kiss you again, but you stopped him, making him pout.

"Nope, you've already used that excuse. Remember when you thought you could not attend an award show to spend the day with me and Seungcheol noticed? The guys didn't let that go for a whole month," you scolded him, this time pulling fully away from him.

"I'll take the fall for it, let's just stay home," Mingyu practically begged, but you weren't having it.

"How about the driver?" you countered, moving away in order to get your bag.

"I was going to pay him anyways, and I'll give him a tip or something," he shrugged.

"We're still going,"

As you and Mingyu walked towards the front door, Mingyu albeit walking slightly slower than you since he was sulking, he abruptly blocked the front door, stopping you in your tracks.

"Gyu, we're going to be late, like you said. You can't resort to using your strength to stop us, no matter attractive I think it is," you retorted.

"You think I'm attractive?"

"Of course you are! Look at you!" You exclaimed, gesturing to the entirety of him.

Mingyu blushed but grabbed one of your hands to pull you closer to him. "Did I tell you that you look beautiful today?" He asked, putting your face in between his hands gently, making sure he didn't mess up your make up.

"Just today?" you teased.

"Well, you look beautiful every day. And all the days after that,"

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#seventeen fluff #mingyu fluff #kim mingyu fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #mingyu x reader #kim mingyu x reader #seventeen scenarios #svt x reader #mingyu fic #mingyu scenario #mingyu imagines #seventeen mingyu #seventeen reactions

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saerins · 11 months

Text

─── 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑

+ itoshi rin x f!reader | wc 1.6k | content: fluff, friends to lovers, college au, slightly suggestive at the end, mutual pining ?

note: hmmm okay rin may be doing things to me @_@ i rarely write for him so forgive me if this is ass but !!! ily rin <3

summary: you and rin are both oblivious to each other’s feelings. but maybe one push is all you need.

it doesn’t make sense why he’s so nervous. you’re still you and he’s still him and nothing’s changed except for the acquisition of some personal information. coming from blunt bangs too, nonetheless.

two weeks ago.

“hey, y/n-chan, you’re single right?” bachira asked, casually as he could while the both of you were on the same train back home.

you were startled, but still shook your head all the same. bachira and rin were teammates, so naturally you two knew of each other, but you couldn’t remember the last time you ever spoke to him. you only remembered that rin liked calling him blunt bangs. and then he started getting a little sulky after you called bachira’s hair cute.

“just wondering, have you ever thought of getting together with rin-chan?”

bachira had been swaying along with the train, his hands gripped firmly on the hanging handles. that wasn’t what you were fixated on though, because his question threw you off, the heat shooting to your cheeks the moment you processed it.

“w-what do you mean?”

you had been flustered, but bachira remained oblivious as ever. (lucky for you.) he tilted his face upwards, staring at the train ceiling, carefully picking his words.

“well, you and rin-chan spend a lot of time together, just wondering if you both ever tried anything.”

it came off sounding a lot more suggestive than anything, but knowing bachira, you doubted he meant anything other than the simple fact of considering getting together.

and it wasn’t like you didn’t. because of course you did. you couldn’t spend so much time with someone like rin and not feel anything.

you’d known rin since freshman year, since you both kept to yourselves at this one party, bumping into each other at the corner of the room, awkwardly shuffling your feet and trying to ignore the other as much as you could.

you caved first; your want for a friend in that party overtook your shyness, and luckily for you, rin entertained you that night. he took you up on your offer to get out of there, away from the loud bass and drunk teenagers and onto a more quiet destination—the supper spot near your dorms.

since then, you’d found a lot of common ground and somehow, you just seeped into rin’s life. just like that. you couldn’t say anything for him, but you’d thought he was attractive since the first moment you laid eyes on him. plus, rin was such a hot topic on campus, you’d just sort of eliminated the possibilities of being together with him entirely.

he was out of your league, wasn’t he?

you were happy enough just to be his friend. until bachira asked that question. until you realised that hey, maybe you should explore it. maybe you should tell someone about it. anyone.

so you nodded your head, embarrassed as you may have been.

“don’t tell him, okay?” you warned bachira.

bachira grinned ear to ear. “it’s safe with me!”

evidently, it wasn’t, rin thinks now—looking at bachira and isagi egging him on. after bachira acquired said information, he had ran straight to rin’s dorm and spilled the beans.

rin pulls up a mental reminder: do not ever share secrets with bachira under any circumstances. ever.

which is also why, after multiple instances of persuasion and letting slip that maybe he’s into you too, rin is keeping bachira under close scrutiny. he’s not even sure whether you’ll show up tonight, at the soccer team’s victory party. from past experiences, you do.

“you should tell her how you feel,” bachira says again, eliciting a sigh out of rin.

“mind your own business, blunt bangs,” rin murmurs, drinking his diet coke.

isagi nudges him lightly. “she’s pretty in-demand right? i heard that some other guys from our team has their eyes on her too.”

it manages to perk rin’s ears, and it’s too late for him to realise it’s all a ploy, because isagi’s snickering the moment rin opens his mouth, earning a slap on the back of his head.

“fuck off with that already.”

“yeah yeah, you gotta strike while the iron’s hot,” bachira chimes in, only further agitating rin. “actions maketh the man or whatever.”

“don’t just throw around every phrase you learned,” he retorts. rin’s fists are clenched at his side, remembering why he used to go to these alone. gotta be better than having to listen to these two idiots.

then, a familiar giggle sounds from behind him, and rin freezes up almost immediately (to the amusement of his two friends). “what am i missing out on here?”

bachira opens up his mouth but isagi claps his hand over him almost instantaneously. for once, rin’s thankful that at least one of them has more tact than the other. you can only watch on with confusion as isagi drags bachira away, citing some lame excuse about how they had to check on the other guests.

they’re not even the hosts.

“your friends are acting weird, rin,” you comment, and rin wholeheartedly agrees. for some reason, he can’t help but notice you more after what bachira revealed to him.

“they’re always weird.”

his eyes survey your body, appreciating how the dress flows so beautifully, how your hair’s done up just perfectly. you’re so pretty too, why didn’t he ever tell you that? probably because he didn’t want you thinking he was some sort of freak. you probably have suitors for days—way out of his league.

“anyway, congratulations on winning the tournament, mvp,” you say teasingly, winking, your heart skipping beats when you catch the slight crimson falling on his cheeks as he looks away.

for some reason, being able to see rin like this, where everyone else only gets to see the more stoic side of him makes you feel special. it may be a case of delusion, but you don’t mind.

you expect some sort of quip, something like how their win was expected and not something worth congratulating. but instead, through his red ears and awkward eye contact, he tells you a curt thanks before he goes back to excessively sipping his diet coke.

“did something happen?” you ask, nearly making rin choke on air, he realises, because he’s gulped down his entire drink.

“no,” he answers, a little too harshly, before he reigns himself in. rin doesn’t really want to be the one to broach the subject, but he really doesn’t want to risk going home tonight without knowing for sure how you feel.

screw bachira’s intel—rin wants to hear it from your own lips, wants to be there to see and hear you confess.

“bachira told me about it.” rin feels you stiffen up beside him this time. but you don’t say a word. that’s fine though. he started it, he may as well see this through. “do you- still feel that way?”

thankfully, you don’t like to torture him, automatically knowing what he’s referring to, probably already calculated in your head the probability that bachira would’ve ratted you out. then, does that mean you wanted to be found out?

“i- i mean i- um, yeah, yeah i do.” you’re fiddling with your fingers, looking to the side, afraid to meet his eye. you and rin are close as ever, but that makes this all the more awkward. you’ve never really been the type of people to talk about feelings. at least, not until now.

you’re not sure what rin will say or do, and you can hear your heart drumming loud against your chest, beating against your ear.

“i feel the same,” rin blurts out, somehow afraid that if he didn’t, you’d assume otherwise.

his words weigh heavy on your chest before lifting the weight off of it all at the same time. you’re relieved, more than, that he feels the same, that you’re hearing it from his own mouth. but now the both of you are just standing there staring at each other, wondering how on earth you should continue this.

and you do rin a favor, paying him back for starting the conversation at all, by standing on your tiptoes and pulling his collar in, pressing a kiss against his lips, tasting the diet coke lingering on his tongue. by the way his arms wrap around you, by now his kiss gets even deeper by the second, you can tell that you aren’t the only one that’s been dreaming of this.

“ah, rin finally got some balls and confessed huh?”

bachira’s all too familiar voice breaks the moment, although the sound of your laugh helps to ease rin’s disappointment. he’ll get more moments of this, more of you—soon. he doesn’t even have the mood to snap at bachira, only occupied with thoughts of what he wants to do with you.

“see, what’d i tell you, y/n-chan? he likes you too, doesn’t he?”

rin’s face turns a bright red at the realisation. “he told you?” he asks.

you nod, grinning sheepishly. “i read his text just before i got here.” you pull out your phone, showing him the evidence.

[20:48] bachira: y/n!! big news!!!

[20:48] bachira: rin said he likes you too, get over here alr!!!

rin blinks, the timing lining up with exactly when rin expressed that he has been interested in you all this time.

“i’m gonna fucking kill you,” rin deadpans at bachira, isagi already disappearing elsewhere, not wanting to be part of this.

bachira thinks he’s lucky when you tilt rin’s face towards you, kissing him again, distracting him from his ire. he takes this chance to slip away, leaving you two lovebirds alone.

“would you rather deal with him or come home with me, mr itoshi?”

it takes everything in rin not to just sweep you up and take you right here in this room. he mirrors your smirk, a casual hunger burning beneath his teal eyes.

“you, always you.”

#did not proof this but we roll with it …#bllk x reader #rin x reader #itoshi rin x reader #blue lock x reader #rin x you #rin x y/n #rin fluff #bllk x you #bllk x y/n #bllk fluff #blue lock x you #blue lock x y/n #blue lock fluff #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi x you #rin itoshi x y/n #rin itoshi fluff #૪ aeri’s fics !

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akoyaxs · 6 months

Text

˚༄ Tìyora Pt 1

༊ Aonung x Fem!Sully!Reader ༊ Enemies to Lovers ༊ 4.4k words Warnings: competitive violence, bet, kuru pulling, p in v, reader hates Aonung THIS WILL BE A SERIES!!!! *Note that reader is practically Neytiri's twin, like mother like daughter. I chose this photo bc when writing I like picturing an OC or different face in my mind, and this one looks different enough from Neytiri's other scenes, but similar enough that reader has all the good Sully genes*

──────⊱⁜⊰──────

It’s not like you’d never felt annoyance before. You had, of course. You couldn’t have survived your entire life with Lo’ak as your brother without having felt annoyed, trying to clean up his messed. You wouldn’t have survived your entire life without being annoyed by being berated by Neteyam for cleaning up your messes.

But now, you’re pissed the fuck off. It’s not just that you’d been held hostage by a stupid group of avatars, or that now you’d needed to leave your clan and fly a million miles to seek uturu in the fucking ocean, but it was the people.

Tsireya was a sweetie, Tonowari admired your bravery, and Ronal found your determination endearing (though she kept it to herself). But Aonung was a whole other story.

You could count on your five-fingered hand how many times you’d gone a minute in his presence without wanting to punch his smug stupid face. You could count with no fingers. Because you hadn’t gone a minute without wanting to punch him.

And now here you are, face to face with the fucking skxawng once again. There’d been several interactions like this. When Aonung and his ugly ass skxawng friends were teasing Kiri, you had been the first to throw fists, and the last to be dragged off. When Lo’ak had been left stranded by said skxawng and accomplices, you had come so close to murdering the next Olo’eyktan, several warriors had to drag you off.

You had grown quite the reputation in the week you’d lived in the reef. Furious, violent, unapproachable, dangerous, attentive. And of course, an excellent fighter. The thing was, the Metkayina had yet to see you fight, given that the instances you smacked the shit out of their precious little prince had been out of the public eye.

Which is probably why they’re now watching with bated breath and eyes wide as the moon as you circle the stupid skxawng around the Metkayina training grounds. It was Tonowari’s idea for you to start training with the warriors of your new clan. As he delicately put, it was a good way for you to let everything out without inflicting any damage for non-training reasons.

Across from you, Aonung shifts slightly, tilting his head cockily and gripping the spear in his hand more tightly. He looks determined; it wouldn’t be a great look if he lost to you in front of the whole clan, after being beat up by you twice.

You’re determined too, you guess. Not to prove yourself, no, it doesn’t make any difference to you what all these Metkayina think of you, not when you could fight them even easier than Aonung. But you want, just once more, to beat him.

You’re not completely sure why but beating him gives you this crazy thrill of pleasure. It probably has something to do with his annoyance and squirminess and coldness and sullenness. He’s embarrassed when you beat him, and it’s perfectly clear to you that Aonung isn’t someone who gets embarrassed easily.

You glance across at the watching Metkayina quickly. Tonowari and Ronal are watching expectantly, little smiles on their faces. Tsireya and Rotxo look slightly worried (bless their sweet little souls), but your siblings are watching with broad, confident grins on their faces. Lo’ak looks especially ready to watch you beat up Aonung again.

He makes the first move, the moment you glance at the onlookers. It was an anticipatable offence, and you step quickly aside, ducking under his swing. You move around behind him and kick his leg, bending it and sending him to his knees.

“You look so pretty on your knees,” you grin teasingly. “You should stay down.”

Aonung’s eyes narrow somewhat, obviously not taking kindly to your little taunts. It’s evident to everyone watching that this is just a little game for you, and you’re taking the opportunity to have some fun with their prince. Aonung seems more determined, and he growls and jolts forward.

He stabs his spear towards you, which you parry, slashing and spiralling, ducking and stabbing. Eventually, he tosses you to the side and your spear goes skittering away. You feel the audience sit up slightly, not expecting this to happen.

Aonung approaches slowly, a cocky little smile on his fishlips. You roll your eyes at his overconfidence, before ducking under the next stab so you’re pressed between his body and his spear, before ripping it from his grip and tossing it out of the circle.

He hisses with annoyance and makes to shove you away, but you’re already ducking under his legs and flipping him over your back. Groans come from the crowd as Aonung slams into the floor, but you hear a delighted whoop from Lo’ak, followed by Kiri stifling a laugh and Neteyam shushing them both.

Aonung clambers to his feet and you crouch a little lower. His eyes are blazing now, looking absolutely furious. A shiver of anticipation runs through you as he tilts his head, eyes narrowing to icy slits. Finally.

“Going to actually fight now?” you ask, smiling tantalisingly, tauntingly. You weren’t really expecting an actual fight, any real competition, but this is even better than the fun little tussle you’d anticipated. With the way he’s looking at you, you just know he’s ready. He’s furious and humiliated and he’s dangerous.

You trail the circle, eyes fixed on one another. You wait, unhurried and unworried, so he gives in and makes the first move again. This time he goes for your legs, and you leap over him, pushing his shoulders down so he stumbles and you roll to the ground and spring up again.

You exchange punches and kicks, and he doesn't hold back. He tackles you to the ground and jabs his elbow at your gut. He’s strong, very strong, and there’s a moment where you realise you forgot to factor in just how stupidly, ridiculously tall and muscular the infuriating skxawng is. You jab him back with your elbow, and he grunts before pinning you down with one arm, his other hand closing around your throat.

The warriors, your friends and your family are watching with bated breath as you struggle under him for a moment, eyes flicking in wide fascination between your twisting form trapped underneath his. You can feel the pressure of their gazes, and the thought that they think he might actually win is more than you can bear.

“Kinky,” you manage to whisper, throat starting to ache under his grip. His face twists for a moment, which you don’t pause to read before you move your knee up to smack him in the groin. You roll over him, legs wrapping around his neck and squeezing his head between his thighs.

“You’re one to talk,” he grunts, trying to shove your legs apart. You tighten your legs together around him, and he gasps.

“Go on,” you breathe, looking down at Aonung, between your legs, face filled with frustration, hands scrabbling at your thighs. He doesn’t say anything. Everyone’s watching expectantly, and you reach down to tug his head back further by his kuru, neck trapped between your legs.

The moment your fingers close around his kuru, he hisses. You glare at each other for a moment, his eyes blazing with frustration, your own eyes a clear message: give up.

“Fine,” he hisses, trying to twist away from you.

“Louder,” you snap, tugging his kuru harder, and he growls.

“I give up!” he explodes.

For a moment, you just stay like that, the crowd watching silently as you stare down at his irate face. And then, with movements that even to yourself feel like they’re in slow motion, you let go of his kuru and open your legs, Aonung toppling onto the floor between them.

Then Ronal is standing up, Tonowari is smiling, and Lo’ak is cheering. The crowd follow, smiling and applauding and grinning at one another. Amidst it all, Aonung has clambered to his feet, ears pinned back against his face and face bitter.

“I hope this has settled things between the two of you,” Tonowari says, as everyone starts to finally fuck off out of the training grounds and back to the village, chattering excitedly and shooting glances back towards you all.

He looks between the pair of you expectantly. You’re both slightly flushed from the fight. Aonung still looks ashamed and frustrated, tail flicking agitatedly behind him, absentmindedly and violently drawing in the sand with his toes. You just avoid eye contact, and Tonowari sighs.

He signs to his son, who scowls and signs back. They continue in this way for a minute, exchanging what is clearly a heated debate in the unspoken language you have yet to learn properly, while you stand on the side and wonder absentmindedly if you’ve been dismissed. Just as you’re about to try and slip away, Tonowari clears his throat and you freeze.

“The two of you will train together,” he says in a voice that makes it clear it isn’t up for debate. Aonung tries anyway, clearly protesting in their signed language, and you wait with a frown on your face. “It is decided. I’ll leave you too to sort out your… differences.”

Aonung glares after his father, and you fold your arms. Finally, he turns towards you, eyes blazing with irritation. You glare at each other in silence for a few moments.

“What’s your problem with me?” Aonung says bluntly, finally breaking the tense quiet.

“What’s my problem?” you hiss, brows raising in disbelief, eyes narrowing conversely.

“Yes,” he scoffs. “That’s what I just said, isn’t it? Are you deaf, as well as a freak-”

“Are you serious right now,” you cut him off, swallowing hotly before your fist accidentally slips and he ends up with a broken nose. “Are you really doing this again, after I just rocked your skxawng ass in front of your whole clan?”

Aonung scoffs again, eyes narrowing as well, and you take a step in, not in the least intimidated he’s a good foot taller. Or by the way he straightens to glare back from his full height, waiting impatiently for you to speak your mind. You’re quite impressed with yourself that you’re only now about to insult him; it’s been a good minute long since you last did.

“Fine,” you concede. “You’re entitled. You’re rude. You don’t give a single fuck for anybody but yourself. You are the most close-minded person I ever met, and I’ve been held at gunpoint by artificially revived humans. You are so egotistical you clearly think the world revolves around you. You except us to sit back while you taunt and ridicule us, you picked on my siblings for the hell of it then had the nerve to act surprised when I fought you over it. You think you deserve everything you deserve everything because you have it, but I promise you this; you are so much less important than you believe.”

Aonung blinks slightly. You don’t step back, and when he exhales shakily and his rage flares up again, you stand your fucking ground as he steps in as well.

“You’re a fucking brat, you know that?” he growls, glaring down at you.

��And what are you, then?” you snap. “Entitled prince of the clan. Who gets whatever he likes. Who can’t handle me calling him out on what he actually is.”

Aonung hisses, and you suddenly find yourself inches away from him. It takes you a moment to realise he’s dragged you there by your kuru, neck tilted dangerously back so you can still make eye contact with him when this close given your stupid fucking height difference.

He’s breathing heavily, eyes blazing. You’re breathing heavily too, eyes wide as you stare back at him. It’s less of a glare now, you’re just waiting to see what he’s going to do. When he realises you aren’t fighting back for once, not pulling away from him, his pupils widen to large black slits, eyes still narrowed and blazing.

And you stay like that. Neither of you move. Neither of you dare too. Neither of you can guess what the other will do. You half expect him to toss you away, or maybe cuss you out. He’s one hundred percent sure you’re seconds away from cursing him out and certain violence.

“What are you doing?” you whisper. It doesn’t come out as you meant it, nowhere near as warning, as fierce, as dangerous. Because this is. It is dangerous.

Dangerous to be this close. Dangerous for you to be thinking what you’re suddenly thinking. Dangerous of him to be holding you this close.

With a small shiver, you realise he’s still holding your kuru in his fisted hand, your body so close to his that when you breathe, your chests nearly brush. You try not to swallow; there’s no way you’re going to let him see how dry your throat suddenly is.

His eyes are roving over your face, which he still holds facing up towards him with his grip on your kuru, tilted so far to keep him in your sight that your throat is tight, and your heart is pounding slightly. Because of the pressure on your throat, because you can’t breathe. Obviously.

Your question hangs in the air. Silent. Aonung doesn’t answer. You can feel his breath fanning across your neck. It’s hot and heavy and you try your best not to make another sound, to make sure he can’t feel how hot and heavy your breath is suddenly feeling.

It never struck you how sensitive a kuru is, but when he pulls you closer by another inch, you feel your whole body tense. Your pupils blow wide and to your horror, you moan. It’s soft, breathy, and you pray to Eywa it was soundless, that it was just some horrific, mortifying figment of your imagination summoned by the oddness of your situation. Even more shamefully, there’s an undeniable twist in your heart, and a certain wetness in your loincloth at the tug of your sensitive kuru.

But then Aonung squeezes his eyes shut, breathing deeply. With his eyes closed, you quickly let your eyes dart over him. You’ve never seen him this tense, not when fighting him, not when shouting at him, not even when you had to wait for Lo’ak to be found when left at Three Brothers Rock.

Every muscle in his neck is tensed, jaw clenching tightly, throat bobbing and chest moving with each strained breath. With another surge of your heart, your eyes drop to the rippling muscles of his arms and shoulder. His veins are evident in those smooth teal arms as he grips your kuru. Then he’s looking at you, eyes opening and instantly falling into your own. They’re dark, not just by his pupils blown wide as the fucking moon, but something deeper, darker, hungrier that has your heart clenching.

You breathe like that for a moment, eyes wide and gazing at each other, hearts hammering and breath heavy, before he wrenches his gaze from yours and quickly lets go of your kuru. And then, your heart stops hammering and your annoyance is rushing back and you forget that strange, infuriating rush from before.

“What was that?” you growl, pulling your kuru back and scowling at him.

Aonung just swallows, still avoiding your gaze and shifting slightly, and you look down. Immediately, your gaze darts up to his slightly flushed face, which looks mortified and frustrated now.

“You fucking hypocrite,” you breathe, eyes wide. “Taunting us, teasing us, when you are hard just by hearing me moan.” Aonung flushes deeper, and you scoff.

“Do you get like this when Kiri shouts at you?” you ask derisively. “Or even when Neteyam gets mad? Or is it just me that has this effect on you?”

Aonung’s glower is answer enough, and your eyes widen further, mouth parting in shock.

“Shut it,” he hisses, shifting again in an attempt to hide himself, and you laugh.

“Are you serious?” you deride. “What happened to me being a repulsive hideous freak? Or do you secretly like that- getting shouted at by a foreigner? Do you like it when I’m mean to you, Aonung?”

“I said shut it freak,” Aonung growls, though you don’t at all miss the way the tent in his tewng seems to grow as you trail closer.

“What do you want then?” you ask, raising your brows. “Surely it’s not above the prince to ask for help, if he really isn’t an entitled brat.”

“As if you would be any use,” Aonung snarls. “As if a freak like you could make me cum.”

“Oh?” you say with narrowed eyes, stepping closer. Aonung blinks, stepping back. He’s reluctant to stay so close to you, you realise. Which is fair, given that last time you were inches apart was what made him hard in the first place. “Do you want me to moan again for you, that seems to do the job well enough.”

You shoot a pointed look at his still growing bulge, and he pauses.

“I have my doubts though,” you say tiredly, trying to hide your amusement. “I don’t think a fishlipped brat like you would be able to make me moan anyway.”

“Is that a challenge?” Aonung says.

“Was it?” you raise your brows. “I feel like I’ve already put in some effort, at least I’ve done something for you.”

“One final challenge,” Aonung says through gritted teeth. “Settle this once for all.”

You consider it. You, of course, had already proved yourself over and over again, proved yourself superior to this skxawng. But on the other hand, your tewng was still wet, and you have this massive, horny ass man in front of you, clearly desperate for anything, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

“Alright then,” you concede. “Because I’m not losing. I’m going to prove myself, you’re going to be eating your words, and then all will be good.”

“I do not understand eating your words,” Aonung says bluntly. “Is it some demon-”

His words are choked off when you reach out and press your palm into his bulge. A minute later, tewngs are disgarded, you find yourself pressed against the sand and he’s all over your body.

“You don’t need to,” you say quickly, when his fingers swipe along your slit. “I’m wet enough.” Aonung looks like he’s about to make some snarky comment, and you growl. “You’re going slower than my grandmother. I hope you’re-”

Suddenly you're lifted up and you're on your knees right there on the sand. You can feel Aonung's breath hot and heavy as he nips at your neck, folded over your much smaller, arched body and sliding your tewngs away with quick hands.

You feel yourself being stretched open, small stings of pain shooting through you as you drop your forehead to the sand. You sink your teeth into your lip, determined not to make any noise. This is different to before, bent completely over with your face pillowed against the ground.

“Alright princess,” he says snarkily, pausing for a moment, buried deep inside you. His voice sounds shaky.

“Thought you’d be bigger,” you lie, scrunching your face up as you try to adjust to his size. Aonung just lets out a deep, amused laugh, before pulling out to the tip and pressing down on your back to arch you further down.

When he starts to move, it completely knocks your breath out, so you're left gasping for air you never manage to catch as he thrusts again. His grip on your waist is bordering on strangling, yet you find yourself unconsciously following him, pulling yourself back to meet each one of your thrusts with a choked moan.

His sudden roughness and hunger and desire is startling. So this is what it's like when he's unrestrained, hot and animalistic, rutting fast and hard, pushing you into a further arch while his sharp teeth nip at the back of your neck and shoulders.

Eywa, if he’d worked this hard, this determinedly, this fiercely whenever you fought, maybe you’d actually have respect for him.

It's starting to get too much, the coil in your stomach growing too close too soon, and your moans are starting to border on lewd whines and whimpers as you sink your teeth into the flesh of your arms. You're clutching the ground for dear damn life, arms attempting to pillow your face as your whole body rocks forward with each rough, almost ruthless thrust.

Pearls of blood are collecting from where your fangs are sunk into your smooth skin, but you ignore it, much rathering the pain than Aonung having the satisfaction of knowing how long you’d be without it. Aonung too, is tense behind you. You can sense the effort he goes to keeping quiet.

It’s a fucking game, pretending neither is impressed by the other, when he’s punching every breath out of you with deep thrusts, and each clench of your walls around him is about to drive him insane. You’re both close, and you both know it, given the way he’s twitching inside you, and you’re fluttering around him.

“Go on then,” you groan through gritted teeth. “I promise, I’ll be gracious about my win.”

“You wish,” he huffs, but you can feel him twitch inside of you. Each rock of his hips knocks every breath, every thought out of you until your heart is pounding in rhythm with each increasingly rough, deep, animalistic thrust of his cock rutting between your legs.

You just bury your face deeper into your arms, hoping that they'll be enough to hide the moans knocked out of you with each of his deep thrusts. He has you pinned firmly beneath him, yet it feels snug and comforting despite the pain of his grip. It feels like he's fucking everything into you, even his scent, so each thrust is enveloping you in his warm, tropical smell.

And with a surge of panic, you feel that familiar heat to growing again, and by the way Aonung is hissing and groaning and burying his face in your neck, you can tell he’s close too. With a final chance to finish this, you’re suddenly rolling over and pushing him back against the sand.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting to see from Aonung; you had no idea what he looked like when you were ass up with your face half buried in the sand. But you certainly weren’t expecting those blue eyes dark and wide and hungry, his lips to be parted in a silent gasp.

His hands fall straight to your hips, slowly rocking you on him. You stare the whole time. With narrowed eyes and shallowed breaths, it’s all a challenge. And you’re determined to win.

“Go on,” you hiss, attempting to grin down at Aonung despite your flushed face and hair spilling anywhere. He looks like he’s about to protest, and you know you have one move left to pull. You finally unsink your teeth from your lips and let it all out. The moment your moan rents the air, Aonung tenses below you. And when your head tips back and your back arches, you both know he’s a goner.

It never occurred to you, just how gentle he’d been, until he’s completely let go, allowed the crushing desire to overcome him. He's half thrusting up into you, half picking up and slamming down your body onto him. If you didn’t know better, you’d almost think you could hear him moaning your name.

You yelp as he speeds up now, brutal and animalistic as the last tenterhooks of his final restraint snaps and he buries himself deep inside you. And finally, you can’t hold it any longer, flopping forward against his chest and doing your best to ride out your high.

“Holy shit,” you pant, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to breathe properly. Aonung doesn’t reply, and when you look up, you find him inches away, staring blankly at you. You quickly scramble off him, snatching up your tewng and covering yourself up. You try your best to ignore the come dripping between your legs, or the flush on your face. “I won.”

Aonung’s face stills, back to his regular, blank stare, though you weren’t sure what you were even reading in it before.

“Yeah whatever,” he grumbles. “Still a freak.”

“A freak who had you fucking moaning my name,” you mutter under your breath, making sure you’re all covered up again. “And you are still an entitled, bratty, fishlipped sore loser.”

“Fuck off,” he grunts, smacking you hard with his tail, and you straighten up, glaring at him. He just glares straight back, both of your chests heaving as you still fight for breath, eyes narrowed and tails flicking agitatedly.

Finally, you just huff and turn, storming back along the beach away from the training grounds and Aonung, and back to the village and the marui you share with your family. You ignore their delight at your win in the fight; they have no idea what happened after, and you fully intend to keep it that way.

For some reason, you don’t feel as satisfied by your other win as you thought. It had been gratifying to watch as Aonung just completely lost control, and maybe you even enjoyed watching him lose his temper and toss and pull you around like you weighed nothing. You scowl and slump onto your sleeping mat.

Stupid skxawng, not admitting you won, when you both knew he was practically whimpering your name. The trouble was how difficult it had been for you not to do the same, moan out his name. And then there was the other trouble. That it had been nothing like you’d ever experienced, being stretched far further than ever before, him reaching places you didn’t even think were possible.

It was harder than anything. Harder than your iknimaya, harder than escaping Quaritch even. It was almost physically impossible, not to just collapse against him, not to moan your pleasure for Eywa to hear. And certainly not for Aonung to hear. If he knew how shaky you feel, how sore your legs are and how faint your head is, the stupid skxawng would never let you hear the end of it.

So you just slump back against your sleeping mat, trying not to think about how you have to train with him the next morning.

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