#*proceeds to never write anything with this*

[jaeminvore]

Credit Card Baby | Z.CL

“Who do I gotta fuck for barricade tickets to Sabrina Carpenter around here?”

PAIRING: Chenle x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Four days, three broke girls, two possible outcomes, and one solution. What are you willing to sacrifice in exchange for a night seeing a long-awaited Juno pose five feet away from your eyeballs? Your dignity, probably because it just so happens that one (1) Chenle Zhong could be the solution to your current girl problem. Only, you don’t really do well with charity. Nothing in life was free and everything had a price, but Chenle likes to think differently—that he's simply helping a friend out. Like the many times he did before. There should be sugar-daddy-sugar-baby joke around here somewhere.

alternatively: ‘three dumb bitches telling each other ‘exactlyyyy’.’ — ‘A sugar-daddy (kinda) au with no age-gap, but with a financial gap that no one asked for’.

WORD COUNT: 15.5K

NOTE: first Chenle fic kinda nervous but also excited because I've been wanting to write for pookie for a loooong long while!! So I gathered all the remaining brain cells I have and came up with this hot garbage (affectionate). This is legitimately the most unserious piece of fiction I’ve written so far, so if you’re in the mood for some fun and entertainment centered around vibes n mild-horniness you’ve come to the right place! The title comes from a song with the same title which is funny to me because the song itself (Credit Card Baby by Wham!) is the complete opposite of the story I'm telling here LMAO

CONTENT TAGS & WARNINGS: mildly suggestive themes (as in, there's very little implication to sex and masturbation here if it bothers anybody. Just to put it out there so proceed with caution), crude jokes and language, crack treated seriously, comedy, college au, fluff, friends to a secret third thing, sugar daddy au (kinda), Chenle majors in business, MC majors in architecture, everyone yaps a lot... for some reason, Chenle’s also a micro-celebrity (streams and posts on TikTok), brief discussion of OnlyFans, but I am in no way encouraging it.

DISCLAIMER: none of this is meant to represent anyone in real life. This is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only.

According to an article you’d come across, an OnlyFans creator earned an average of one-hundred-eighty dollars a month. Multiply that four or five times, you’d have enough for one ticket.

“Alright,” you sighed, bringing your knees up as your eyes glued to what laid out in a neat pile right before you and the girls you lived with. “how much do we have all together?”

“Twenty-seven dollars and thirty cents. One banana flavored condom. Three sticks of gum—a chewed piece of gum, ew—a crumpled tissue and a… hairball.”

Jesus. This was getting ridiculous.

“Fantastic!” You clapped, looking at both girls with a wide smile and desperate eyes. “Anything else?”

“A maxed out credit card,” Minjeong sniffed as she threw the offending piece of useless plastic onto the pathetic pile. “That’s all we have to our names combined. We’re broke as shit.”

No, really. You had everything you needed for a flourishing career of flashing your nether regions to the world behind a paywall.

A laptop with a webcam. A pretty face. A small collection of toys. Very small. A pink two-in-one vibrating dildo the girls had gotten you as a gag gift for your birthday still in its packaging type of small. Vaguely resembling a swirly ice pop you’d get on a hot summer day, and you had lovingly named it ‘Pinky’ before it had gotten shoved into the depths of your drawer, never to be seen again.

Your imaginary audience probably wouldn't mind, right? So long as they’d get an eyeful of a pretty girl playing out starved men’s depraved fantasies.

Then again, the idea didn’t seem too hard in theory considering how far gooners were willing to throw a couple of dollars for a  five seconds long clip. They wouldn’t even notice the difference between an overexaggerated moan resembling a cat’s mating yowl and a genuine moan of pleasure, far too busy jerking it until their keyboards were dank from their own mess. You’d be earning enough to broaden your pathetic sex toy collection.

Simple-minded people were easy customers and you sure had no problems capitalizing off of that.

It was a good plan. A perfect long-term plan even, if it didn’t earn less than minimum wage and if you weren’t racing against time.

“This sucks,” Yizhuo whined, throwing her head back and staring forlornly at the ceiling. “Where the hell are we gonna get that kind of money in four days?”

Minjeong raised a groomed eyebrow. “Can’t you ask your parents? Say it’s an emergency or something.”

Yizhuo’s head lolled to the side, frowning at her. “They still have me cut off, remember?”

And the thought wasn’t just devastating to Yizhuo who, up until a few months ago, had been living the life of a spoiled princess with the world right in the palms of her dainty, never-worked-in-her-life hands. Naturally, being the closest to Yizhuo where you all were practically sisters, you and Minjeong were tangled up in the punishment as well. That meant leeching off of her and her unlimited access to her parents’ money was ineffective until she learned her lesson. 

After all, she was the reason why you and Minjeong had a roof above your head because apparently buying a house out-of-pocket was much more cost-efficient than renting, leaving you girls the responsibility of paying for groceries and sparing you just enough to spend for personal items. Yizhuo handled the rest as she had become somewhat of a sugar mommy.

“Apparently Daddy thought I was being very irresponsible with their money.” Yizhuo rolled her eyes. “Whatever that means—that I spend most of my time shopping rather than studying, which is so stupid when I already know the business like I know Daddy’s card details by heart! Why should I go to university when I’m set for life?”

She had gotten a job a week after spending what was left of her savings in a fit of panic. Lavishly, one could say, where the amount of clothes, bags, makeup and accessories had your eyes bugging out at the exorbitant prices printed on each receipt. Minjeong hadn’t been responsive all throughout. You didn’t think she was breathing either when she stared hard at a receipt from Prada.

Lucky for Yizhuo, Minjeong’s job at a thrift store had recently let go one of their former employees after her boss had caught them doing lines in the break room.

It was perfect for Yizhuo, low effort as she’d be manning the cashier and would occasionally keep the racks in stock. And best of all, she won’t be alone. She’d be with Minjeong which also came as a relief to you since it was a huge adjustment from not lifting a finger all her years on Earth thus far, to suddenly contributing enough to keep your mouths fed for at least twice a day.

“Wow,” Minjeong drawled, “your life must be so hard.”

“Ugh,” Yizhou groused, crossing her arms as she leaned against the foot of the couch with a moue reminding you of a spoiled child being told ‘no’. “You don’t even know.”

Judging by the look on Minjeong’s face, she was not having Yizhou’s tone-deafness in the slightest, and while you silently shared the sentiment—that the youngest of the household could have refrained from flaunting her privileged life, you didn’t want any casualties that could potentially turn into a court case. Because as sweet as Yizhuo was, she could be just as evil and vindictive to anyone that wronged her in some way.

“At least your parents let us keep the house,” you joked, patting Yizhuo’s knee with a smile. She at least appeared genuinely apologetic by the situation. “Any ideas on how we could get at least fifteen hundred dollars for three barricade tickets in”—you glanced at your calendar app—“four days?”

“Girl, you are asking for a goddamn miracle,” Minjeong sighed, “even Jesus took three days to resurrect.”

You nodded sagely and added, “took him six days to create the world,” which got a confused noise from Yizhuo.

“I thought it took seven?”

Minjeong shook her head. “No. He rested on the seventh day. Didn’t you go to Sunday School?”

“Not really. I barely lasted half a day.”

Well, all of you were definitely losing the plot here, quoting holy scripture, or whatever, but Minjeong was right; none of you were divine beings capable of pulling miracles out of your proverbial asses in time when the goddamn concert was in four days.

One could argue that you were given a long enough timeframe to save up for pre-sale, but when you had a friend like nepo-baby heiress Yizhuo Ning who had connections everywhere, it was guaranteed that you'll get the best seats at a concert of a big-named artist with her influence regardless of the limited time frame. Perhaps backstage passes if Yizhuo liked them enough. And she liked this one. A lot. She could never resist Sabrina Carpenter’s big blue eyes and bouncy blonde curls.

So, no. None of you had the forethought of pulling out the ‘Saving Up For A Concert For Dummies’ manual. Not when you had Yizhuo and her endless pockets full of hard cash to fall back onto.

Then she lost access (temporarily) to the Ning family vault, with barely anything saved up from her job because her spending problem wouldn’t vanish with just a snap of her father’s fingers, apparently. Now here you were: sitting in a circle on the plush, mauve, floral embossed carpeting that must have costed a fortune with crumpled dollar bills and junk you found deep in your purses like you were all trying out a crude summoning ritual for fat wads of cash.

Nothing could get worse than this. You’ve been through worse than this.

“We could sell feet pics?”

“Hell no. Feet freak me the fuck out,” Minjeong shivered.

You plucked the condom from the pile and lifted it up at face-level. “Would a used condom sell a lot to some weirdo freak out there?”

“Maybe,” Yizhuo replied the same time Minjeong said, in absolute disbelief that one of you would ever think of something so unhygienic, “I wouldn’t know, I’m a lesbian.”

“Yeah, no.” You wrinkled your nose. “You would not catch me pulling out a condom with some guy’s jizz in it from the trash. Ew.”

“How about a sugar daddy?”

“Eh. I’m not really into older men.”

“You saying you wouldn’t let the guy who played M-C-U Bucky Barnes hit?”

“Oh sure,” you said, sarcasm dripping thickly with each word that followed, “let me just hit up my buddy, my pal, Sebastian Stan on Instagram. Maybe I should call his phone number too! Y’know, the number that I don’t have.”

“Okay, sheesh. You don’t need to be so mean about it,” Minjeong mumbled.

“Oh! OnlyFans!” Yizhuo suggested with reverence as if she figured out how to attain world peace, earnest as her eyes rounded with excitement. “I’ve heard plenty of success stories. It can’t be too hard for any of us.”

A beat of silence, and then—

“Not it!” Minjeong exclaimed, touching the pad of her index finger to the tip of her nose.

“Not it!” came Yizhuo’s shrill voice a close second, copying Minjeong.

“Not it—fuck!” you wailed, half from being the sacrificial lamb and half because you smacked yourself in the fucking face from momentary panic which the girls didn’t seem to catch, too busy shrieking and hugging each other in relief. “No fair.”

“Oh, I think it’s plenty fair,” Minjeong shrugged, pressing her cheek against Yizhuo’s. “You were just slow.”

“And if anything, this’ll be easy for you!” Yizhuo cheered.

“Easy? okay—this“—you motioned wildly to your own body—“isn’t for the masses.”

Minjeong snorted. “Oh, sure. Tell that to the three guys you keep on rotation.”

“They’re just three guys. God forbid a girl has a healthy sex-life,” you whined. It was either wither away when you weren’t agonizing over your Architectural Design course—any of your courses, really—or fuck around with the guys you’ve met through mutual friends as your mode of relief.  “and why does it have to be me? I’m sure either of you could pull off being an O-F model.”

“One,” Minjeong raised a finger, “don’t ever call me that. Even if it’s in a hypothetical sense. And two, the thought of men being the majority of my audience unnerves me. I don’t think you could make it so only women could see me, so fuck that.”

“Fine. I’ll allow it.” You turned to Yizhuo with an expectant look. “What about you?”

She returned it with an unimpressed one, bordering on disbelief the longer you stared at her, waiting to say her piece.

“You’re kidding, right?” No, you were not. Was there a joke hidden in those three words forming a question? Not that you knew of, so you gestured for Yizhuo to get on with the program. “I’m like, the last person you should send to the wolves.”

“Why not?” You pouted. “You’re like, the most charismatic of us three. Got a pretty face too, if that wasn’t obvious enough.”

“Uh-huh, yeah—calling me pretty won’t change my mind,” Yizhuo said, firm and that meant she won’t tolerate any more of your pushing, yet the pretty blush tinting her cheeks told you enough that you almost got through her. “I’m an heiress to one of the largest Chinese conglomerates back home. How’d you think that would look for me?”

Bad, I’m guessing, and you knew this first-hand. 

There was an approximate six-thousand mile distance from where Yizhuo was brought up to where all three of you resided, yet that didn’t stop the Chinese media from getting their updates on how Yizhuo Ning was faring as an international college student.

You had a few run-ins with the paparazzi just dying to get dirt on Harbin’s sweetheart, fought with some too which had caused quite a buzz on both Weibo and Xiaohongshu when pictures of Yizhuo stumbling down the stairs of a frat house, looking drop-dead gorgeous were shared. No one could tell she was barely clinging onto sobriety. Or that she had already emptied her stomach twice in one of Sigma Chi’s bathrooms and a plant that surely had seen better days being under the care of jaunty frat boys who barely knew the concept of photosynthesis.

There was also a handful of you elbowing one of the paparazzi in the face when they had gotten too close. Your face, thankfully, had been blurred out. Same with Minjeong’s who had been trying her absolute damndest to keep you from getting aggravated assault charges while being tipsy herself.

If they had somehow caught wind of Yizhuo being involved in something so obscene—and you knew they would eventually—her life would be over. And yours. And Minjeong’s, because God forbid her parents might as well treat you as their own children with how often their darling daughter talked about you during their weekly check-up calls.

“And my parents would literally kill me if they found out their only daughter isn’t as virginal as they thought!”

“But you haven’t been a virgin since sophomore year.”

Yizhuo rolled her eyes. “They don’t know that, obviously.”

“And so that leaves me to be the breadwinner of this fucking household,” you said, heaving a conceding sigh. “God I hate you rich people.”

“I know you do. You say ‘eat the rich’ at least three times a day like it’s ‘grace’.” Yizhuo didn’t even sound remotely annoyed by your diss, basking in the relief of not taking your place and sacrificing her dignity. “It’s just until we get the tickets. Then you can be boring and gate-keep yourself until we have to slut you out again.”

“My body is a temple,” you said, feigning offense as you crossed your arms, cupping your breasts in a protective hold while Minjeong cackled. “Besides, OnlyFans might be easy on paper, but executing it? Four days won’t be enough. There are many factors involved and engagement won’t be that easy from how oversaturated it is. I’d be a no name. It’d probably take me months to get the amount we need and Miss ‘have you ever tried this one?’ would be in Europe by then.”

“And you did the math for that?”

“Only since we took all the shit out of our purses.”

“Right, because you always do the math for everything.”

“It’s a reflex.” You shrugged. You could even say it had been ingrained in you, haunted by the fact you almost failed Calculus I. You struggled less with it now, spending all summer drilling numerous Youtube tutorials into your brain and electing one of your classmates as your tutor. “How do you think we’ve survived this long without your parents’ money?”

Yizhuo shrugged. “Fair enough. Nerd.”

She gets a pillow to the face for that.

“Well,” you said with a clap. “If that’s all, I gotta go in”—you glanced at your watch and then panicked as you scrambled to get up—“five minutes ago. Fuck, I’m gonna be late!” The pop in your knees made you wince when getting on your two feet, making a bee-line towards your bedroom and stumbling over Minjeong’s thighs in the process.

“For a dick appointment?” 

“If you count AutoCad fucking up my chances for a four-point-oh, then sure.”

So maybe you had lied about the dick appointment, but in your defense, you actually had shit to do.

It just so happened Renjun also majored in Architecture, and that you shared all of your classes with him because if you were walking into five years of hell, you sure as hell weren’t going to suffer alone. You were simply hitting two birds with one stone.

If only those two hypothetical birds you hypothetically murdered coughed up fat wads of cash enough for three tickets, then you’d be set.

You let out a defeated sigh. “I need fifteen hundred bucks.”

Renjun, who just got back from a shower, blinked at the bold request.

“Say that again? You need how much?”

“Fifteen hundred bucks,” you repeated.

Renjun's face twisted as he stuck his pinky into his ear and wiggled it around. “I’m definitely hearing things ‘cause there’s no way.”

You rolled your neck to blankly stare at him. “I can say it again in Mandarin, if you want.”

“Please don’t,” Renjun shook his head, not minding that you were trying really hard to set him on fire with your eyes. “That’s like, using what I taught you for evil.”

“Well that’s too damn bad,” and you repeated what you said in near flawless Mandarin.

The conversation should have ended there. He just had the most underwhelming orgasm to-date due to whatever weird headspace you were in throughout your—ahem—session that made it less passionate and more robotic, but getting blue-balled was considerably worse than having to act as your last-minute financial adviser.

He simply could ignore anything that had just left your mouth when your attention was set onto the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to his ceiling, but the unfortunate thing was that Renjun was nothing but indulgent at the moment. 

Dregs of lust in his brain prevented any of his usual no-nonsense approach and it certainly didn’t help that he could never say no to a girl—a pretty girl, no less—no matter how insufferable they were. Specifically you with his sheets wrapped around your still naked body. Renjun was still a man, and his IQ could still lose a few points if a girl so much looked his way.

Since you were both things, a girl and pretty, he calmly graced your dilemma with an answer.

“I can only give you orgasms, I’m afraid.” He said with a pout you knew was meant to be patronizing, mocking almost, especially with a detached lilt to his voice.

This wasn’t new to you as it was one of his methods to get under your skin. He knew you hated it, and you could definitely tell he’d prefer to discuss something else. Or nothing at all, but he had already poked the bear which meant he had to listen to you whinge until you either 1.) get it out of your system yourself or 2.) or he did something about it, and Renjun knew exactly the choice he made, yet that obviously didn’t work.

“What’s the fifteen hundred for anyway?” he conceded, barely tampering down the reluctance of circling back on your current financial struggles while rubbing his hair dry.

“Barricade tickets to Sabrina Carpenter,” you said shifting onto your side so you could face him properly. “VIP too if possible. For me, Ningning and Minjeong.”

He closed his eyes, jaw clenching. Saying other girls’ names post-coitus should be considered an act of violation or something, but he digressed.

“I thought Yizhuo got you tickets already?” His eyes snapped open to regard you with a lost look. “Before the whole cutting her off from her parents’ money fiasco?”

“Well, no one was really expecting her to go broke. She didn’t think it was a priority when she could just get the tickets last minute.”

“And since they took away access…”

“No money for us until further notice.”

Both of his eyebrows rose at the sheer ridiculousness of Yizhuo, self-proclaimed number one Sabrina shooter who could not go one day without singing Feather as much as her lungs could take, not being able to cop tickets. “The concert is in four days.”

“Oh don’t I know it.” When it rang like a giant alarm in your head, it was hard to not think about it. “I’m thinking of taking out a loan from my bank.”

“Absolutely not,” he snapped and tossed his damp towel onto your face. You shrieked and clawed it away because, ew, gross. “No way in hell are you going into debt because of a concert. Are you fucking crazy?”

“It’s not like I can ask someone to buy them for me either!” 

Renjun just barely resisted the urge to groan at the fact your persistent yapping almost ruined your then stellar bed chem.

“Like, who would be dumb enough to buy me a ticket? Let alone three?”

It’s surprising how you were able to come up with coherent sentences aftergetting your brains fucked out, but Renjun had always thought you were a weird one. Stamina on good days, yet a common cold could have you acting like you were knocking on death’s door.

“I’m sure I can name at least one person,” he said, thoughtful.

“Does this person have two-toned hair, perchance?” you wheedled, rolling onto your stomach to cup both of your cheeks with your hands looking like a flower in bloom for him. “Is his name Renjun Huang? A-K-A my favorite guy in the whole wide world?”

“You’re cute,” Renjun snorted, sitting on the foot of his bed. “But no.”

Your bottom lip jutted out in a pout. “You’re no fun.”

“There’s Jaemin,” he offered.

You grimaced. “Too needy.”

“Haechan?”

“Too mean.”

“And you still go to that asshole?” Renjun asked, incredulous. 

“He’s a good lay?” you offered, sheepish almost under the glare of his disbelief and the full force of his eyebrows. “C’mon, at least one ticket for your best girl?” you cooed, laying it on thick with a flutter of your eyelashes. “The other two can probably work something out.” 

Minjeong and Yizhuo were your girls. No one could ever doubt the love you had for them, being housemates for two years and counting, but desperate times called for desperate measures. It’s every man (well, woman) for themselves and if there was an opportunity right in front of you, might as well take it.

“Yeah…” he trailed off with a wince and you already didn’t like what he was about to say when he glimpsed at you and then at some random spot behind. “about that—“

“Whatever you’re about to say, don’t,” you ground out.

Renjun pretended like he hadn't heard you. “Someone from the student association gave me a ticket.”

“And you’re going?” You hoped he wasn’t.

As if he read your mind, Renjun’s mouth parted in offense. “It’s Sabrina Carpenter. It’s a great opportunity to clout chase.”

Oh he was definitely going to be insufferable on Instagram, talking about it for days on end. Just like you would be.

“Seriously?” you exclaimed, both hands covering your face, muffling your scream. This felt way worse than the time you almost didn’t meet the deadline of a plate submission that made up a large chunk of your grade. “Is everyone and their goddamn moms going except me?”

“Guess so.”

You peeled your hands away to Renjun scrolling through his phone in mild interest.

“Can you at least pretend to feel sorry for me?” 

Renjun let his phone drop in between his crossed legs. “My condolences that you won’t get to see Sabrina do her Juno pose five feet away from you.”

“You’re the worst,” you groaned, sitting up and holding the blanket tightly to preserve your modesty. “I’m literally out of options and you’re already kickstarting the FOMO.”

“And what were your”—he waved absently to the air—“options exactly?”

“There was the OnlyFans route—and before you say anything else,” you gave Renjun a look that was sharp enough to make him think twice about his needling. He said nothing, thankfully, but his pursed lips and scrunched eyebrows said a lot. “yes, I did the math and we all agreed—surprisingly—that it would be impossible to earn that amount of money before the concert. Then Minjeong suggested a sugar daddy, but I’m not really up for being a geraitric’s pretty play-thing. What if he dies mid-sex—”

You got cut off from Renjun doubling over with laughter. “Sugar daddy? Why don’t you just ask Chenle then?”

“Why should I ask Chenle?”

“Why shouldn’t you ask Chenle?”

“That’s why I’m asking you,” you quipped back.

Renjun laughed again. A rich, belly-deep equal parts loud and grating. “You cannot be this dense,” he said as he calmed down. “I just mean—you guys are close, right? Close enough that he bought you a replacement T-square.” He watched you, amused, as you considered the question. Renjun can almost see the gears turning in your head, chin resting in his palm and using his leg to balance his elbow.

“It was an emergency,” you stressed with an eye-roll, though you didn’t exactly fight the fond smile settling on your lips at the memory of Chenle getting rung up for a new sixty-four-inch long acrylic T-square while you perused the rows upon rose of cute stationery. You hadn’t meant for your old one to snap cleanly in half, but when there was a guy who didn’t take ‘no’ for an answer and, well, there was a reason why the running joke of a T-square doubling as a weapon was still relevant to this day.

“Doesn’t he pay for you guys when you hang out?”

Renjun snorted. “Sure. If you count him demanding us to Venmo him later.”

“Huh. He usually just pays for us both.”

Actually, now that you’ve thought about it, his housemates hadn’t ever gotten the privilege of Chenle covering for any of their expenses, much less a cheap meal from a well loved hole-in-the-wall restaurant. You didn’t think it was favoritism either. Was that a thing in friendships too? You had no idea, and you never had to ask when Chenle never thought twice to remind the waiter or waitress that he was paying for two. For me and her—he would nod his head towards you—only and leave the rest to settle their shared bill among themselves.

“Huh.” you repeated.

“Yeah-huh,” Renjun echoed with one corner of his mouth lifted up in a smirk. “Seriously, if you’re that desperate to see Sabrina up close, I’m sure he can work something out for you. What’s fifteen hundred gonna do?”

You both knew the answer to that. Nothing, because although Chenle wasn’t as high profile as Yizhuo and her family was, you had a vague idea on how deep his pockets ran if he barely spared a glance at his receipt from Gucci for a track-suit set he’d been meaning to get. He might as well have slapped you in the face with a thick stack of one-hundreds.

It would have invoked the same feeling of being too poor to even breathe inside the store and it had been a relief you thought of dressing up that day too despite the fact you’ve pulled an all-nighter to complete a handful of plates for design class the night before. You were at least spared from any judgment from the sales reps.

Still.

Renjun clicked his tongue, sensing your mental turmoil. “Just ask him. If he says no, then there’s your answer.”

Just ask him. Easy for Renjun to suggest when he wasn’t the one stewing away in a puddle of anxiety. He already had a ticket! Of course he’d think nothing of it. 

Walking into Yizhuo’s obscenely large living room, you were once again reminded how excessive it was.

There was a grand piano in there, for fuck’s sake, in the far end after the actual living area with the plush seating, yet none of you could play any elaborate musical pieces except for Twinkle Twinkle Litter Star. Right next to it was a sunken conversation pit with a modern fireplace built into the large concrete column and there were a series of floor-to-ceiling windows and glass sliding doors encompassing the pit.

Other than overlooking the luscious, grassy backyard, the doors led straight to the deck where a round pool resided as its main attraction. There was a goddamn fountain just beside it, too. Who needs a fucking fountain in this economy anyway?

Actually, everything about the house was ridiculously extravagant for three college girls to live in. Your bedroom included. Yizhuo ended up giving you one of the bigger rooms and you were sure the drafting table you bought off of a grad student for cheap would do its job and cramp it up, but you knew the saying about gift horses and Mom raised you better than complaining about convenience being handed to you on a silver platter.

The round floor table of the conversation pit was vacant, though there were scattered papers, notebooks, textbooks and all sorts of pens on top of the reflective glass surface. That meant either one of the girls was home. Or both, as Minjeong’s and Yizhuo’s voices grew louder by each step towards the kitchen.

“Guess who might have found a solution to our ticketing problem!”

You slid onto the cushioned seats of the breakfast nook—a breakfast nook, Jesus—right across from Minjeong sipping her to-go cup of thai milk tea. She wordlessly slid on towards you. You took a generous drag of the stuff.

“Actually, it was more of Renjun’s idea—which I am effectively stealing.”

Yizhuo, who was in the middle of plating a hefty amount of pad see ew, looked like she swallowed something toe-curlingly sour. “Oh so you were with Renjun-ge.”

An easy smile curled on your lips as you lifted a shoulder to shrug, sweetly batting your eyelashes. “What can I say? The guy gives good head—” (“I did not need to know that.”) “—anyways, my idea.”

“Mine was probably better.”

“Oh yeah?” you drawled, egging Yizhuo on. “Let’s hear it then.”

“Breaking into the thrift store and stealing everything from the cash register.”

“What?”

“She claimed if her parents found out about her crimes, they’d have to bail her out from prison and then restore her money privileges,” Minjeong glared at the youngest who simply whistled to Espresso as she carried on with the food. “Then I had to remind her of her reputation.”

“Good thing you did ‘cause that’s the dumbest fucking idea I’ve ever heard,” you said and you made sure it showed on your face as Yizhuo wilted underneath your tangible disappointment that she would even risk an integral part of her privileged life when she had used it as a counter-argument to the whole OnlyFans thing. “So we’re going with my solution to our broke-ness—Chenle Zhong.”

Yizhuo did not look pleased whatsoever. “What does Caillou have to do with Sabrina Carpenter?”

You ignored Minjeong shrieking with laughter. “Chenle’s got money,” you said as if you were talking to a toddler barely getting a grasp on words having their designated meanings. “And do you know what we need to get tickets? Money, and Chenle has a lot of it.”

“It took Renjun for you to realize that Chenle could be our solution?” Yizhuo exclaimed in disbelief, head in her hands. “Oh my God—it took Renjun telling you, then you telling us that he could be our solution? How could I’ve been so stupid?”

Her head jerked upwards, ponytail swishing along and gave you a look so sharp and abrupt that you jerked in surprise. You fixed your posture so fast that your grandmother would have been proud. For once. “You’re definitely asking Chenle.”

“Uh—first of all, why me? Don’t rich people have, like, some sort of kinship with one another? Like, hey, can I borrow ten-thousand dollars? I’ll pay you back with five-percent interest.” That definitely wasn’t how deals between rich people were made, but whatever. “Second, why not you, money bags?”

“He’ll never say yes to me,” she said brusquely, clicking her tongue. “I kicked his ass a bunch of times in PUBG and he’s still bitter about it. It’s not my fault he sucks absolute balls. There’s like, a compilation of him complaining on stream about how I was cheating”—Yizhuo made air quotations—“on TikTok. It’s so funny. Actually, I’ll send you the link—”

You turned your gaze towards Minjeong for help, eyes widened a fraction for an added pathetic flair as the younger one focused on scrolling through the damn app.

“Don’t look at me. Chenle’s just cheap with everyone—actually, maybe except for you,” Minjeong pointed a long, black almond tipped nail in your direction. “the favorite.”

“You say it like it’s an insult.” You slurped your milk tea at an obnoxious volume, shrinking in your seat. “Maybe he’s just nicer to me because I’m nice to him unlike you two.”

“Is that what we’re calling it these days?” Minjeong said, eyeing you curiously.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She moved her gaze elsewhere. “Nothing.”

You squinted. “Uh-huh.”

“Anyways,” she said, pointedly keeping her gaze forward. “He started it. I asked him if I could borrow money for my Lyft and he laughed in my face.”

You pressed your lips together to keep yourself from laughing too because, yeah, the image was a little funny. “You’re exaggerating,” you said evenly.

Yizhuo made a half-wince, half-smile sorta thing with her face. “Are we though?”

“Lele’s not that much of an asshole,” you defended. “He drives me home. You could have hitched a ride with us is all I’m saying. And if I can remember correctly, he still gave you more than enough for your Lyft.”

“He didn’t have to laugh at me, then.” Minjeong looked like she was heavily debating whether she should smack you upside the head, or not. “For someone smart, you’re real stupid.”

You frowned. “Hey.”

The argument still carried on deep in your weekly ‘everything shower’.

“Face it, babe. He’s like your personal A-T-M.”

“Chenle doesn’t always get me things.”

You were aching in places you never knew existed as you passed the foamy loofah over your skin, yet the girls had denounced what it meant to have boundaries, making themselves at home in your bathroom to prove their joint points.

Yizhuo scoffed from where she sat on top of the closed lid of the toilet. “The shampoo you used earlier? That was imported from Japan.”

“So? He noticed I ran out the last time he was here. It’s just shampoo.”

“From Japan,” Yizhuo countered.

You pulled a face. “Is that supposed to mean anything? It’s fucking shampoo.”

She just threw her hands up in the air, visibly annoyed.

“And the body wash you’re using? From Chenle.” Minjeong piped up from the separated bathtub, pointed at the towels hanging on the towel warmer and added, “The bath towel set? Chenle.”

“Alright, fine, maybe—”

“The year’s supply of assorted sheet masks in the fridge we use?” she offered.

“The gargantuan tin of tea leaves you’ve mentioned you liked.”

“Okay. I get it—”

“A new backpack because your old one ripped at the seams.”

“Your underwear—”

“Hah!” You pointed triumphantly in Minjeong’s direction. “No, he hasn’t bought me any.”

“Not yet,” girl-in-bathtub emphasized, resting her chin on top of her arm propped on the tub’s edge. “Shit, he probably bought everything you own.”

“Okay, now you’re definitely exaggerating.” You snorted, walking into the spray of the shower to rinse off the suds. “I’m not that broke.”

“Should I also mention that if it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t have met us? Or that you would have been homeless?” Well, yeah, and you would have figured something out eventually, but you weren’t expecting Yizhuo to bring that up to one-up you in an argument.

“I can’t believe you would use the ‘you would’ve been homeless if it weren’t for me’ card against me.”

“If it weren’t for Chenle, you mean,” she corrected, propping her cheek on top of her bent knee. You glared at the needless addition, though the usual effect wasn’t as strong with warm water sluicing down your face. To Yizhuo, you were definitely doing an almost perfect rendition of ‘wet cat’. “You can’t be this stupid. You’re literally his favorite. I doubt there’s another guy out there that would willingly—again, listen—willingly spend money on you.”

“Does Jaemin buying me a pack of gum the other day count?”

“Oh my fucking God, you’re hopeless.”

Minjeong shrugged. “Maybe he was lowkey telling you your breath stinks.” (“Ex-fucking-scuse you?”) “Didn’t Chenle buy you a ring that looked like a bent nail?”

“As a gift, yeah?” Your wince was immediate the moment Yizhuo gasped at your confirmation.

“That was Cartier!” She whipped out her phone from fuck knows where and showed you the website and its price. Did she have that tab open all this time just for a ‘gotcha!’ moment? Jeez, she scared you sometimes. “Look—Juste un Clou ring. Classic model. I would’ve given you rose gold, personally, but the white gold looks pretty too,” she mumbled, nodding approvingly. “He knows his stuff, at least.”

“Viola!” You turned to Minjeong making jazz hands with flourish. “If he can blow three grand on you without blinking, fifteen hundred would be nothing.”

You let out a heavy sigh, rinsing the loofah free from the suds. “How sure are we that there are any tickets left? Last I heard, three nights sold out.”

“It’s Chenle. He has connections everywhere. He’ll probably end up tracking scalpers too if he could help it.” She weighed her own words for a moment. “As long as you’re the one asking.”

“If you say so,” you trailed off, still not entirely convinced even by her radiating certainty.

“Uh-oh.” Yizhuo promptly sat up. “That’s not good. What’s wrong?”

“It’s just—I feel kinda weird. Asking him. Like, I’ve never really had to ask him for… stuff before.”

“What,” the girls said in a way so dry that you most likely would have broken out in sweat with how serious their faces were right now. Thunderous even.

“What do you mean by ‘not having to ask him’?” Minjeong asked, deathly calm.

“Just as I said. He just does it on his own. Without me telling him.”

In hindsight, Chenle might have been an option right from the very start if the thought of simply asking for help financially didn’t bother you in the slightest, but that’s the thing. The idea did bother you to your very core because, again, it wasn’t like you were broke. A victim to capitalism? Absolutely.

Once you broke the news to your parents and brother about your acceptance to one of the top universities in the state on a full-ride scholarship, they had insisted on a monthly allowance. They hadn’t minded extending a helping hand at all, and it was the least they could do to lighten the burden with the condition that you should be devoted to your academics.

Consequently, you were also good with multi-tasking, so you’ve managed a healthy work-play balance so far. What your parents and brother didn’t know wont hurt them and you hadn’t given them a reason to not trust you on your own, miles away from home, either. Not yet at least.

Deciding for a part-time job was after the realization that majoring in architecture was a bit heavy on the pockets from the consistent need for materials and printing out your designs brought to life by the handful of software provided by your department. The café pay was decent, you were tipped just as okay, and you wouldn’t say no to some cash on the side. Adding that to the remnants of your monthly allowance, it was enough to buy a thing or two at the end of the month as a treat.

And then came Chenle, guns ablazing, with no qualms swiping his card on your behalf.

You never really had to ask him.

Literally.

He would already have it taken care of before you could even pluck your wallet out and split the cost. You couldn’t remember if you had a time where you outright asked (begged) him for a few bills, and if you did, you always always promised to pay him back.

That being said, Chenle wouldn’t let you fight him on it either. When his mind was already made up, it was like talking to a brick wall, standing tall and impervious to almost everything. A losing battle when you’re up against someone headstrong yet so goddamn stubborn.

That’s where your hesitation had stemmed from, because it could either go two ways: he could say no and you could kiss your chances of brushing hands with Sabrina Carpenter goodbye, which would be the best case scenario, or he’d say yes, and once he said yes, there was no turning back. A yes from Chenle was law—signed and sealed that not even expressing the preconceived regret of asking a favor would shake him.

This was entirely different from Chenle just doing whatever the fuck he wanted with his own money without any of your persuasion. You never had to ask him for anything before and the fact of the matter was, you were damn terrified of asking if Chenle could be a bro one last time and drop what was equivalent to the price of a newly released iPhone for you.

Asking him would literally be so detrimental to your conscience that you would probably go insane with guilt and you couldn’t afford getting thrown into the nearest psych-ward when you had tons of deadlines to meet.

Minjeong leaned back to stare forlornly at the ceiling. “Lord, I see the luck you’ve bestowed upon this girl so stupid.”

“Hey!” You whined.

“Congratulations on getting a sugar daddy,” Yizhuo said, dry. “Can you ask him for tickets now?”

Oh God, you thought with abject horror. What if Chenle is my sugar daddy?

Technically speaking, though, you both fit the description. Minus the ‘sugar’ part so, quasi-sugar-daddy then?

Okay, no. That’s definitely not a can of worms you’re gonna open, like, ever. Chenle just happened to be there whenever you had to go out and buy shit. Just happened to be faster whipping out his wallet than you were. After all, he’s the spry athlete while you were five cans of Monster Energy away from keeling over.

What you’d like to get into now was how this conversation developed backwards where you had to be naked and wet to get some sort of pep-talk. Was this even considered pep-talk? This was somebody else’s form of nightmare for sure.

“This is really weird,” you said, neither confirming or denying Yizhuo’s so-called congratulations as you glanced between the two girls unabashedly staring at you in your birthday suit, expecting. “Can you guys leave?”

“Nothing we’ve seen before.” You met Minjeong’s eyes for a second before they strayed to your naked breasts and back up again. “Bet Chenle would love to see you right now.”

For whatever reason, Yizhuo mirrored Minjeong’s sentiments as she bobbed her head so fast you would think the idea was exciting for her. “Only right for you to give him some sugar, too.” 

“Or—get this—I don’t do that?”

“Why not?” Minjeong frowned. “You fuck anything that moves.”

“Correction: I do not. I’ve only been with, like, five guys my entire life,” you said, brandishing one hand so they would get the picture. “And Chenle’s my friend! We’re like this”—you crossed your fingers, shaking them for emphasis—“tight, y’know? Literally everything’ll change if I go… do that.”

“You and Renjun are also”—she copied your crossed fingers—“like this, but you’re still fucking.”

“Well… that’s—that’s obviously different! He doesn’t count!” you said with each word increasing in pitch.

“Oh pray tell why you wouldn’t sleep with Chenle Zhong,” Minjeong goaded. “I may not like guys, but looking at him through an objective lens, he’s one of the good ones.”

“There’s no risk with Renjun because it’s strictly casual and platonic, and I know I wouldn’t get attached and develop—” you quickly clamped your mouth shut. Shit. “Uh—um—you’re breaking up,” you blurted, closing your eyes as you stepped into the heavy downpour of the rainfall shower. “I can’t hear you,” you said, though that likely sounded like incoherent blubbering. You were sure you’ve got your point across with that piss-poor save anyway.

“We can literally see you.”

You turned your back to them. They could talk to your ass if they wanted. Out of sight, out of mind. “Not anymore, you don’t.”

You hoped that was the end of it, though it was made clear time and time again that the girls weren’t satisfied with your hedging. A growl was heard, followed by the quick plap plap plap of feet against the cold tiles. As the glass door squeaked, the brief water prison you’ve enclosed yourself in stopped soon after and you opened your eyes to a hand retracting from one of the knobs.

There was barely a second for you to complain before an undignified yelp was forced out from your throat when you were spun around to find Yizhuo’s dour face, her hands clamping down on your shoulders.

“You’re just admitting this to us now?” she said, incredulous, and a little surprised that you’ve managed to keep a crucial detail from them for this long. 

“It wasn’t like an immediate thing I needed to resolve!” you argued, “but the thought was always there, I guess. Just sitting in the back of my mind until you brought up sex with Chenle. And I’m busy, in case it wasn’t obvious enough to you non-architecture majors. Never had the chance to explore it, y’know?”

Busy was the biggest understatement of the year. Your life revolved around sketching, drafting, rendering—hell, even printing your designs on sheets of paper almost (more or less) half your height had never been this stressful. Adding a part-time job to that? It was a miracle you were still kicking.

With all that combined, you didn’t have the time to give a damn about relationships running deeper than casual, less emotionally charged flings. Those were easier to manage without the messiness of feelings involved. 

“Well, Dora the Explorer,” Yizhuo tendered as she handed you your heated towel. “you better start explorin’ because you’re gonna fuck him either way.”

You swiped the towel from her. “No I’m not.”

“No you’re not,” Yizhuo agreed, and maybe the shrewd glint in those beady eyes of hers was only your imagination, toweling yourself dry and wrapping it around you once you were less damp. “but at least keep it as your trump card if he gets difficult—which I’d doubt, really.”

“You guys’re that confident he’d say yes?” you mused, pushing past Yizhuo to grab the other towel for your head. “It’s gonna be so embarrassing if he says otherwise.”

“To the tickets? Or the sex?” Minjeong then heaved a dramatic gasp, eyes wide as her voice dropped to a staged whisper. “Or worse, your alleged feelings.”

You puffed out your cheeks, ignoring the rush of warmth blooming onto your face. “Now I’m hoping he says ‘no’.”

“Oh, girl, trust me when I say ‘no’ is the last thing he’ll say to you.” Yizhuo said, looking very sure of herself. “So. How soon can you get to him?”

“God I hate you rich people.”

Yizhuo beamed. “I know.”

Well, it wasn’t like you were a stranger to testing your luck.

You: wyd

Lele: ? Lele: I’m not one of your groupies Lele: need something?

You: wanna get groceries with me? :D

Lele: be there in 15 Lele: need to grab Daegal’s kibble too

You: ur the best ✨✨

Lele: i know i am

You: girl whatever.

Lele: ❤️

“You know, when you said groceries, I was expecting personal stuff—like skincare or some shit,” Chenle said loftily. “Pads? Tampons? God forbid a menstrual cup—“

“How do you even know what a cup is,” you muttered. “and my period ended a week ago.”

“I know.” You looked up from your work to Chenle squinting down at his phone. He caught your eye and beamed, pocketing the device. You were too afraid to ask what that was about. “We could have gone to Sephora after.”

Oh you definitely could have if you had been more specific with what groceries meant, but you simply said to take both your asses to the nearest H Mart. Cute as the thought was, you weren’t exactly in the mood to watch Chenle try and figure out which products were on your current rotation. It would have made good content for him though, a sure hit for his predominantly female fanbase, yet the looming three days left to secure tickets above your head kept you from suggesting that.

“Well, I can’t exactly cook you a five-star meal with hyaluronic acid now can I?” 

He blinked and answered with a bland, “I have no idea what that is.”

You squinted at him, taking in the way he’s got his head tilted at an angle where the lighting hit one side of his pale face just right. No texture whatsoever, like a smooth, almost blank canvas marked by a singular mole on the cheek.

“‘Course you don’t,” you grunted, envious of his near perfect skin.

Chenle’s gaze slid towards the pot on the stove, then to his wooden chopping board where a humble spread of your additional ingredients had been neatly organized in small piles with two open noodle packets. “Also, that’s just your classic Shin ramyeon and some crab balls.”

“Well damn, Chenle, I’m no Gordon fucking Ramsay,” you snapped, swatting at his arm. “So ungrateful.” An elaborate recipe was out of the question when you were too busy panicking about how the hell you were going to pull this off.

(“The one thing you’re gonna ‘pull off’ is your top,” Yizhuo instructed as she followed you out the gargantuan front door. “You know how guys are with boobs. They’re like catnip for them.”

“Please don’t compare my tits to catnip.”)

He cackled, tucking himself into your side with an arm thrown around your shoulders in a side-hug. “Thank you,” he cooed, and like a cat, rubbed his head against yours. “You didn’t have to do all this, but I’d never say no to food.” You couldn’t exactly see his face like this, but you could hear his appreciation. Your heart squeezed at the press of his cheek against your temple.

See, it’s little moments in time like this were what jump-started the on-going betrayal you would never expect from your own beating heart, and Chenle made it extremely hard for you to not entertain any straying thoughts formed by the casual intimacy between you. It really didn’t help that Chenle was physically affectionate, and it especially didn’t help that you spent most of your time with him despite majoring in vastly different programs.

Starting the day with Chenle waiting in his car to take you to school, ending it with him driving you home and everything in between was a sure gateway for neutral feelings to gradually do a one-eighty. Reaching that level of comfort where you felt safe with him was just as inevitable, too. Chenle was safe. Always has been.

But for both of your sakes, it had been a conscious choice of burying yourself into your work—letting yourself get fucked over by the workload you had to do. The minor breakdowns you’ve had every time your calculations went wrong, or when color or material swatches didn’t seem to go together than you’d originally thought saved you from overthinking every single interaction with him.

You wouldn’t risk it. You couldn’t risk it.

“What’s the occasion?” Chenle prodded. Still there. Still close. Still trying his hardest to weld himself to your side that he would soon figure out something was up the moment you went stiff in his hold, but you were just as quick coming up with some bullshit excuse to save your own ass. Though it begged the question whether it will hold up against Chenle’s incessant need to stick his nose into anyone’s business.

The longer he stayed quiet, the more your nerves fried. His house—house because Chenle was a loose cannon with money like Yizhuo—was always set to a cool temperature and you wore an outfit that wasn’t meant to cover up much at all, yet you could feel yourself break into sweat the moment he pulled himself away from your space. You still stood there frozen and the pot was taking too long to fucking boil.

“No occasion!” you exclaimed, spinning on your heel to face him with the sweetest and most disarming smile you could muster at the moment. A drop of sweat trickled from your temple down to your cheek when all Chenle did was wrinkle his nose as he took a step back. “‘was just in the mood to cook… something. For you—uh, for us. I was craving ramyeon.”

“You were craving Shin ramyeon,” Chenle echoed, not looking at all convinced. “Shin ramyeon that Yizhuo has stocked in her pantry.”

“That’s why I asked you to get groceries with me,” you replied in haste. “We were running out.” 

Which wasn’t a lie. Technically.

The three of you used to gorge on whatever there was in the kitchen, fridge or pantry, or DoorDash when any of you craved something specific. Key words were ‘used to’ because snack options had been limited to cheaper alternatives and what was cheaper and filling than a packet of noodles that took less than five minutes to cook? Really, it was like you were back in your freshman dorm, living off of instant noodles.

“Running out.” The more Chenle repeated whatever you said, the more you started to realize how deep of a grave you had dug for yourself. “You bought just enough for two people to eat.”

“Right.” You drawled, snapping your fingers and hitting him with the finger-guns. Might as well make yourself look even more like a jackass than you already are with the dogshit lying. “Right—so no plans later? I could use another H Mart run.”

Chenle cracked this time. “You’re a shitty liar,” your name tapered off into laughter. “You want something, don’t you? You’re never this nice to me.” He simpered with a certain type of fondness you’d usually see in people witnessing a puppy scaring itself with its own bark—he should really stop that. You were already kind of a mess from the way he’d freely insert himself in your bubble like he owned the space. You didn’t need the ooey-gooey, cavity-inducing stares to go with that too.

This was all clearly very amusing to him—you stumbling over your own words picked out from throwing darts at random in an attempt to gaslight him. He shouldn’t find any humor in this, really, but Chenle had always been chill like that. Marching to the beat of his own drum or however the saying went that the ease of falling into character, the jester to his court, wasn’t surprising.

If it made him that happy, then you’d continue shaking your fool’s cap for him. As a friend, of course.

“What? Me?” you said, guileless and with a hand flat on your sternum, eyes rounded with that faux gleam of innocence for the full effect. “I have never wanted anything in my life.”

“Anything?” he pressed and received a firm nod. “Not even barricade tickets to Sabrina Carpenter?”

You gaped at him, stuttering out words that weren’t even qualified to be in the English dictionary until you settled with a broken, “who told you that.”

Chenle smiled serenely in kind, not at all fazed by your brain blue-screening in real time. “Renjun.”

The mention of a name sobered you up in record speed.

“That snitching bitch,” you seethed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I only told him because I was hoping he'd help me think of options, or buy me a ticket himself. The girls could figure something out.” You paused, absorbing the situation as your hand fell back to your side. “Less work for me, though. I've been shitting my pants since, like, yesterday.”

“Yeah?”

You huffed a short laugh. “Oh yeah. There’s this theory going around—not that I believe it—that it’d be easy convincing you.”

“Easy,” he huffed, amused.

“Easy as in—I just have to ask you.”

Chenle tilted his head, considering you for a moment. “Alright. Ask away.”

You balked, grasping straws for a response.

“Ask away?” Nod. “Just like that.” Nod. “I’m not asking just for me, y’know? I’m also asking for Minjeong and Ningning. Since we’re broke and desperate girls who just happen to love the same singer.” Chenle only raised an eyebrow, slowly nodding in a way that said, ‘yeah. I know. What are you trying to say?’.

“Are you not worried how much it’s gonna cost you? Even just a little bit? I’m already feeling sick just thinking about it.” You grimaced.

“Not really, no.” He shrugged, slanting an easy smirk.

You pursed your lips. Right. Okay. So maybe you had severely underestimated how disposable money was to him, then. It didn’t seem like he minded at all, barely showing any negative emotion sans the boredom slowly coloring his features.

You, on the other hand, were already knee-deep in a bog of guilt and regret that you could honestly spit-up today’s lunch from how nerve-wracking this was; standing in front of him while carrying as much audacity a human being was allowed to and asking for something so expensive.

“You’re insane if you actually say yes. I don’t know about you, but if someone asked me for a thousand bucks and told me, ‘oh, bee-tee-dubs, I’m not gonna pay you back. Like ever.’, I’d consider suing the hell out of that person until they have to file for bankruptcy.”

“I mean, money’s never been an issue so I don’t see why my attorney should be involved.” The fact that he actually has an attorney (or a full-blown legal team. You never know) at the ready did not bring you comfort in the slightest. Chenle still tried though. You could at least appreciate that. “I wanna circle back on your so-called theory, though.”

“Don’t look at me.” Both of your hands raised in defense. “I’m not the one who came up with the ‘I’m Chenle’s favorite’ theory. The girls did.”

“Did they?” And for some ungodly reason, he looked delighted by the claim. “Well, can’t say they’re wrong.”

“Chenle,” you warned with a tone so biting you would think it’d have him think twice with this blasé approach.

Though maybe there was something on your face that betrayed the annoyance you’ve vocalized when all Chenle did was smile genially as the syllables making up your name passed through his lips in smooth succession.

“I’m not a charity case,” you muttered, flexing your fingers then curling them into fists. You weren’t too sure if you were pleased hearing it from the source. That you were Chenle’s favorite, confirmed by the man himself. Whatever that meant, or more annoyed that he really couldn’t care less about the money he’d wasted on you because you were his favorite. “You know I don’t take charity as well as normal people would.”

“Why do you think I never let you argue?” He said cheekily. “It’s easier and faster that way. And it’s no big deal! Seriously,” Chenle emphasized quickly at the sight of your deepening frown.

“But it is to me! If there’s one thing I know, it’s that nothing is ever just free. People these days are always expecting something in return. Maybe not right away and what if you’re just letting me rack up enough debt so you could ask me for my soul, or something.”

Chenle snickered. “So this is an exchange, then. Your noodles for concert tickets. You drive a hard bargain,” he wondered with an impish quality to his words, giving you a once over. Twice. It made you a little self conscious, shifting from foot to foot the longer sharp, cat-like eyes passed over your form. “Is that why you’re dressed like that? In case your cooking didn’t make a good bribe—oh, sorry—exchange?”

“Like what, exactly?” You asked, a little offended that he wouldn’t completely fold—or at least crease—at the first bite of a dish that earned its Michelin stars back in Yizhuo’s kitchen. Or that your chosen outfit wasn’t creaming any pants.

“Didn’t you wear this exact outfit when you skipped class to meet with Haechan that one time?”

“It was a different top, I think.” A top that was just as fast to remove too, so you understood the confusion. “How do you even remember that?”

“I remember lots of things,” he clarified, closing the distance until you could make out the top notes of his five-dollars-per-spray perfume with each inhale. “Like how you dress differently whenever you meet with one of your guys.”

“Gee what a coincidence. I wonder why I’m dressed like I am about to meet with one of my guys while in your kitchen.”

This time it’s Chenle who got the surprise of a lifetime, eyes almost bugging out of his skull as those lips you had once imagined yourself kissing just to see how they’d give under the soft pressure parted in a delicate ‘o’. He was quick to recover though, with a sly uptick of his mouth replacing the initial shock of finding out that, yes, you’d probably sleep with him if it came to that.

“Didn’t think you’d be that desperate for tickets.” He’s closer now, too close for comfort that you backed into the edge of the kitchen counter. “Is that how you’re gonna repay me?”

“It’s charity work,” you answered blithely, emboldened by Chenle’s interest because, fuck, might as well. “Fuck knows if you’ve been getting your dick wet or not. I’d literally be doing you a favor.”

Chenle didn’t seem to take offense to that as he threw his head back in raucous laughter.

“Charity for charity.” He grinned. “Seems fair.”

And the words had never sounded sweeter until they came from Chenle’s mouth. You could already hear yourself screaming with the crowd filling up the arena, with your girlfriends who you absolutely did not resent for essentially pimping you out to the one guy who could arguably make your dreams come true—

“I’ll think about it.”

Both Minjeong and Yizhuo were dead to you.

“Think about—” you paused, taking steady breaths until you were calm enough to start talking again. “Chenle. Lele,” and out came the big guns, being sweet to him and using the cutesy nickname the girls from the Chinese Students and Scholars Association would croon to get at least five seconds of his attention. Watching that play out from the sidelines always left a sour aftertaste, how they all would go as far as touching him when they decided holding eye-contact wasn’t enough to fuel their delusions. 

You’ve soon come to realize that it was jealousy that caused your eye to twitch when Chenle’s capitalistic smile turned honeyed towards his junior. Because there wasn’t a day where you were short of his attention.

Perhaps the thought was a little unhealthy, but what if you said it was what you were used to? Can anyone fault you for being a little catty after that interaction?

Calling him Lele worked, you thought. Or so you hoped. You weren’t sure rendering him silent was a good thing, actually. Silence never bode well with larger-than-life Chenle Zhong whose entire personality was being loud, especially with eyes as expressive as his. Dark as shots of espresso you’ve brewed countlessly at work laced with something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“The concert is in two fucking days! There’s no time to think—you know what? This was a bad idea. I don’t know how Ningning talked me into—” you shook your head, pressing the back of your hand to your cheek with a heavy sigh. “We can just eat the goddamn noodles and forget all this. I’ll just tell the girls they were wrong, and you said no—”

“Oh, no no no,” you would never admit to making such an undignified sound when Chenle pulled you back by his steady grip on your wrist. “you can’t make that offer and leave just like that, c’mon.” And he had the audacity to whine on top of it.

“Well that’s before I—what are you doing.”

“Making sure I am getting something out of this,” he murmured, crowding in on you further where all you could see right in front of you was Chenle, and whatever you could see over the slope of one hoodie-covered shoulder.

Which by all means wasn’t a lot to begin with, him being taller and broader than you. And Chenle wasn’t even super tall. You knew plenty of people that exceeded the one-hundred-and-eighty centimeter mark, like that Jisung kid who hung out with you both on occasion. Wasn’t even built like a brick shithouse like Jaemin and his friend, your on-and-off tutor, Jeno.

Yet the way he had you cornered, hands planted firmly on the polished quartz countertop boxing you in, kind of screwed with your perception—made him appear bigger than he actually was. Perhaps it was the intensity of his gaze, pinning you down with deep pools framed by gradually thinning rings of brown the longer this stare down went on.

Coupled with the heat radiating off of Chenle, from standing so much closer where it totally crossed the limits of what it meant to be platonic, something just as heated unfurled beneath your navel.

“What—whatever you want,” you stuttered, swallowing thickly when the soft material of his jacket brushed along the strip of skin left exposed by your cropped top.  

“Whatever I want?” Chenle’s tongue darted out, wetting his lips as he studied you. “Even outside of sex?”

It was really hard trying not to not stare at his mouth. “I think being your errand girl will get you your money’s worth than a regular pump n’ dump.”

“The mouth on you.” Chenle cracked a lipped smile, wide enough that a hint of teeth peeking between the soft rosebud pink of his lips. “‘My girl’ does have a nice ring to it.”

Warmth creeped up your neck. “You forgot the word ‘errand’.”

“I know what I said,” he murmured, coming in closer that the tip of his nose gently nudged yours. “Kiss me.”

Your breath hitched, eyes growing into saucers because kiss me could imply anything. Everything.

“What—“

“You said whatever I want,” Chenle pointed out. “and I want you to kiss me. Or I want to kiss you, actually. Real bad.”

Words, apparently, weren’t enough to prove how much Chenle could want something as simple as a kiss.

Slender fingers splayed themselves along your waist, just marveling that you’re allowing him to touch you like this—with reverence. Palms cooled by the counter and the calluses earned from years of basketball raised gooseflesh along your skin when dragging them along the expanse of your stomach. The dips of your waist again—like he couldn’t resist how softer you were there—your back, until one of Chenle’s hands settled beneath the curve of your spine, the other just shy under the side of your breast. 

Chenle was impossibly closer now and your body’s natural response was to arch into him and—oh, he’s hard. So hard—straining against the fly of his jeans pressed against your stomach, and you’ve barely done anything except letting him feel you up, leaving phantom brands of his touch along the way.

“Feel that?” Chenle said, voice low and gravely, delivered like it was a secret only you two should know. He pushed his hips further into yours causing him to groan quietly as you gasped, your hands laying flat on his chest to steady yourself. “You’re definitely getting your tickets if it’s the last thing I do.”

Somehow, out of everything Chenle said, that knocked the breath out of you. The utter conviction. How positive he was in his own right that he will get those tickets for you, one way or another.

Frankly, you couldn’t care less about them now, nor what you had to do in exchange for what was essentially overpriced pieces of paper. All you cared about was who you were getting them from: Chenle, his mouth just a couple of centimeters—all yours for the taking, how secure his hold was around you as if the mere thought of you drifting away any second unnerved him, and the fact that he wanted to kiss you.

Because maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t at all one-sided. Maybe what Minjeong and Yizhuo had been speculating held some substance that, yes, it wouldn’t be too hard if it was you appealing to Chenle’s sweeter side. Maybe the notion was that gratifying to your dwindling self-esteem because how could you deny his simple request? 

So with a breathy, almost breathless, “just—just shut the fuck up about the tickets for a second,” you cupped his face with both hands and yanked him down for a kiss.

Chenle’s kisses were syrupy-sweet, if not purposely drawn out as though he was savouring a once in a lifetime opportunity; uncertain if he’d ever get the chance again. The most surprising thing about kissing Chenle, other than the act itself, was the unhurried pace. So unlike the man you would see loping over with this restless energy ready to leave him bursting at the seams, harrying his friends (anyone, really) to play ball with him. 

It had been near impossible, forcing him to sit still when all Chenle knew was to keep on moving. Keeping close at his heels was a fixed workout you didn’t remember ever signing up for. It was only to your relief that he made sure to keep you right behind him. Beside him, rather. There wasn’t a time where Chenle would knowingly leave you behind and if that ever happened, he would always wait for you to catch up.

There was no rush, and maybe that was the point of it all. Chenle’s willingness to adjust for you with no terms and conditions applied, and you have yet to see him stop.

With each push and pull, worrying teeth on lips and a shallow press of a warm wet tongue, Chenle kissed you like he was a man starved, stumbling upon an oasis and letting himself drown after a drought lasting so long. He kept with the pace, not doing too much or too little, lips slotting together like perfect puzzle pieces. Sweet and deliberate, each movement holding intention. Chenle really wasn’t fucking around when admitting he wanted to kiss you.

You shared that want too. More than you had initially allowed yourself, but that was to be expected when you’ve basically repressed every not-so-platonic thought regarding Chenle for a long while. And you know what they said about bottling it all up.

It came bursting in a flurry rush of movement. From their tender cradling, your fingers reached up to curl into Chenle’s freshly dyed jet-black hair just as he mirrored your own growing need, lithe arms coiling around your torso as your mouths grew greedier by the second. A show of teeth pulled an airy moan out of you turned muffled the second he licked into your mouth.

From there, kissing just became a mere afterthought. Devolving into a carnal dance of tongues, lapping it all up to get your fill.

Chenle tasted just as sweet as he kissed before, like the lemon ginger candy he had stocked around his house, his car and sometimes you would catch him plucking a piece or two out of his pockets. And it was quickly becoming a problem where you just knew there was no coming back from this.

That nothing will ever be the same once you walk out of that door when all of this is over. You couldn’t go back, not when you’ve gotten a taste of what it was like swapping spit with the guy, the same guy who you had thought wasn’t worth the risk.

Fuck it, might as well risk everything, then. You’ve already kissed him, already bulldozed past that boundary you swore you would never cross. So long as Chenle wouldn’t mind a kiss, or two, or three—until he has to pry you off of him and say enough is enough, you’d let yourself crave the sensation of having his mouth give under yours.

Just like how you chased after the plushness of his lips with a meek whine when he drew back, grinning at the state he reduced you to—a needy little thing this high strung over a kiss.

Please. As if he didn’t pop a boner at the thought of kissing you.

Just as you were about to voice out the retort, one of his hands raised to cup your cheek. You leaned into the touch, feeling small under his thoughtful gaze as his thumb swiped over your kiss-swollen lips. You chased after that feeling, too, each drag winding the coil of your self-control tighter and tighter ‘til it snapped like you did, catching his thumb in between the edges of your teeth.

Chenle’s gaze darkened then, no traces of the playful glint you were used to seeing as he surged forward and kissed a searing path from the corner of your mouth, all the way up to the swell of your cheek. Then lower, and lower until the scrape of teeth under the hinge of your jaw made your knees buckle from the sensation with a gasp.

You gripped his hair tighter, though you made no move to pull him off. “That—this is more than just a kiss,” you lightly chided, voice shaky. “Greedy.”

“So what if I am?” He mumbled, mouthing his way down your neck. Your fingers left his hair and curled around his nape. “Want me to stop?”

Pulling him in further by his neck told him enough. The vibration of his pleased humming against where your pulse was at its strongest made you shiver. You could feel him smirk. Like a knife to your neck.

“Thought so.”

Staying true to his words, he didn't stop. Chenle latched onto your mouth again and you’ve quickly grown familiar with his rhythm. Only this time, his hands joined in the fray, seemingly needing more than just having you secured in his arms.

Though perhaps you bit off more you could chew. 

Like, yeah, getting fucked by Chenle wasn’t the most horrible idea you’ve had so far in your early twenties, but thinking about it was vastly different from actually doing it.

So you were definitely in your right to squeal when one of your best friend's wandering hands went up your skirt.

Chenle stilled and pulled back with his eyebrows knitted together. Your face was on fire, both from his bold move and the embarrassing sound you made.

“You okay?” He asked, the same hand that was under your skirt—right below your ass cheek—rubbing soothing circles. It was anything but soothing. When you’ve got thighs as sensitive as yours, the only thing Chenle was helping with was making you hornier.

If he moved his hand a little further up and a little further in, he would have felt just how soaked your panties were.

“I—uh—I’m not ready.”

He blinked. “My hand is literally up your skirt that’s barely covering your cute little butt,” he pointed out as his hands trailed higher and squeezed the plump flesh. “and you’re not ready.” Now he’s looking at you like you’re crazy. Shit, maybe you were. And it’s his fault. He’s just as crazy for calling your ass cute to your face, too.

“I mean yeah, that’s nice and all—your hand is really warm, um—but I may or may not have been talking out of my ass about fucking you.”

Chenle snorted. “I dunno. Your outfit clearly screams ‘fuck me!’. Cute shirt, by the way.” A stray hand wedged itself under the tight fit of your tube-top, earning him a sharp intake of breath when his fingertips grazed the underside of your tit. His touch didn’t go further than that, hand simply splayed across your ribs. “If you can call it that.”

“You bought me this shirt, dumbass.”

“Even better,” he said, delighted by the thought. “Feeling cold?” Chenle wondered, almost in an innocent, offhanded manner you wouldn’t think much of if the twitching of his mouth slipped under your radar. You caught his leering stray south, too. Just what could he possibly be intrigued by when he was quite literally sharing your breathing space?

With eyebrows furrowed, you let your curiosity get the best of you, tracing his line of sight.

You should have stayed curious.

Better yet, you shouldn’t have acknowledged the change of his focal point because of course he’d take notice of your nipples poking against the soft material of your shirt; as if they were saying ‘hi’ to the man who had come so close to giving them some attention.

Chenle dissolved into a fit of cackles. You could only imagine how embarrassed you looked to him. Why were you even embarrassed? You chose to forgo a bra in hopes of distracting him with your boobs if all else failed.

“Yeah, yeah,” you acquiesced, keeping your chin up as you blindly reached for his hands. “Hands where I can see ‘em, pervert.”

Only, you don’t exactly take his hands off of you. This was like, casual touches here and there dialed up to an eleven, right? It wasn’t a foreign concept to you, being held by him. Being friends with him for this long and counting, hugs were a thing you were frequently subjected to, and Chenle loved those, so you did your due diligence of settling his hands on your hips as a pseudo form of it.

A peace offering, if you will, for cutting the closeness short and a little because you were starting to like the warmth emanating from a more intimate touch.

Seemingly pleased by your initiative, Chenle graced you with the sweetest of smiles, squeezing you. That got him a snort and a fond shake of your head, though the amusement dimmed into contemplation as you lingered on the silver padlock-shaped pendant hanging from the dainty chain of the same metal around Chenle’s neck, not knowing where to go from here.

Eventually, you found your voice. “That better be worth fifteen hundred bucks,” you joked because if there was one thing about you is that you had a knack for making light out of an emotionally charged situation.

“I’ve spent more on you before, and you're worth every single penny so far.”

That shouldn’t have flustered you. Really, it shouldn’t have you hot in the face when you weren’t sure if he meant the dig towards you unintentionally milking him of his fortune. But Chenle’s ease of letting weighted words spill from his mouth was the sure contender here, and to deliver the final blow was the charming grin that ensured you everything was going to be just fine. He’d make sure of it.

“That’s definitely something a sugar daddy would say,” you said with a wry curl of your mouth. “Are you my sugar daddy? Because I can’t remember the last time I had to pay for my shit when you’re around.”

There was one time you went out for a bagel on your own, though that didn’t seem like a big girl purchase compared to your ergonomic chair he had ordered from Amazon. The look he had given you when you told him you made do with the many dining chairs Yizhuo had around her huge glass dining table had been the funniest thing you had ever seen. Like stiff chairs having multiple uses was a foreign concept to him.

You didn’t have the heart to tell him that you were mostly on your feet when you had to (by hand) draft floor plans and vignettes that took up almost the entire space of your choice of paper. And the chair was comfy. Good for your back too.

“It does look like that, huh?” Chenle laughed at that, shaking his head as he did so out of endearment because you just wouldn’t get it. “What if I just like taking care of you?”

Now wasn’t that an insane thing to say out loud? Granted that you could kind of see where he came from as he did save your sorry ass a bunch of times with either a tap or a swipe of his card, this was Chenle you were dealing with. The likelihood of him just pulling your leg under the guise of flattery was great and backing down that easy had never been your forte. No matter how sweet he was being about it.

You could count the serious conversations with him on both sets of your fingers and this regularly scheduled bout of psychological warfare won’t even count.

“You just want to get in my pants,” you accused with a defiant raise of your chin.

“You almost let me in your pants,” Chenle pointed out, his fingers gently grasping your chin so he could tilt your head back at its normal angle. “My hand was literally up your skirt and I heard no complaints until you got stage fright.”

“Fair,” you allowed with a shrug. “Still not gonna fuck you though. Not now at least.”

“Whatever you want,” he said softly as he bent down to catch your gaze. “and you know I won’t do anything you don’t want to.”

You hummed, thinking Chenle’s words over. “I’ll give it a few days until you’re on your hands and knees begging to stick just the tip in.”

Chenle’s smile wobbled then turned pained. “If I have to.”

It took three whole seconds for his admission to register in your brain before you sputtered a laugh, falling forward until his shoulder cushioned your forehead. No wonder you and Chenle worked so well. There was not a serious bone in any of your bodies and you wouldn't want to change it for the world.

“Down, boy,” you teased, still cackling as you nuzzled into his neck. “Who’s desperate now?”

He huffed. “Like you weren’t trying to eat my face moments ago.”

You pulled back with a pout. “I could say the same about you.” You poked him in the chest. “Were you actually trying to suck my soul out?”

“Regret anything yet?” Chenle’s question was posed as playful, but there was undertone of uncertainty to it too and over the years, you’ve gotten good at figuring out his tells. The uncharacteristic sudden stiffness in his frame, the way he chewed the inside of his cheek (subtly as he could) and the tightness around his eyes—he thought you did. Regret it, that is, but it was the farthest from what you were feeling right now.

“The only thing I regret is not seducing you sooner.” 

And that did it. Anything that fell in the same vein of uncertainty gave way to the radiance you were much more familiar with.

Chenle looked like an absolute winner—the cat that caught the canary and washed it down with cream in celebration of his win before diving in for his prize.

Until Daegal barked at the sound of jingling keys the moment your lips were a hair breadth away from touching, her excitement piercing through the bubble and granting you awareness from beyond it; namely the pot barely having any water being left on the burner for too long. 

There was a flash of white from your peripheral as you shared a panicked look with your qausi-sugar-daddy when the front door opened, followed by one of Chenle’s housemates, Beomgyu, announcing his arrival with a loud, “I’m home!”

“Shit,” you whispered and the two of you set into motion. Harried, if anything, yet still efficient with the swiftness Chenle displayed in fixing your clothes just as you smoothed stray strands of his hair back in place.

For a quick moment, he took a good look at you, a crease in the middle of his eyebrows before he was shucking off his hoodie and urging you to wear it.

“Didn’t take you for the protective type,” you teased, yet took it without question as Chenle rolled his eyes with a gentle shake of his head, watching you pull on the sleeves; a smile equal parts warm and mischievous playing on his lips.

With the zipper in place, you glanced at him then down to his very obvious problem beneath those denim jeans. “You gonna do something about”—Chenle’s eyes blew wide in alarm and stuck his hand in his pants—“yeah, okay,” you mumbled.

His smile widened into something annoying and you quickly pushed him towards the kitchen sink, a silent command to wash his hands once Beomgyu walked right into the kitchen, surprised that you were here. Daegal trotted closely behind, her tail wagging happily as you bent down to pick her up.

“We’re going to get groceries after some noodles,” Chenle answered the silent question for you while pouring water into the pot. “Want some?”

“I’m starving,” Beomgyu groaned. “I’ll eat anything.”

“Hope you’re excited for Shin ramyeon and crab balls, then.”

Over Beomgyu’s shoulder, Chenle winked at you and you nuzzled into Daegal’s fur, hiding your smile.

In the end, after letting Beomgyu devour most of your noodles, Chenle did take you out for another H Mart run.

“Are the two carts necessary?”

You didn’t think so. One full cart was pushing it, but two? For a second, you feared he might just buy out the whole store if you dared him. Then again, Chenle wasn’t familiar with the concept of limiting oneself and it seemed like it applied to you too. Well, in a way where he showed you it was okay to want things. That it was okay to ask him for things.

Because it’s Chenle who did most of the shopping. Fresh produce, different kinds of meat that didn’t need to be cooked in complicated ways for it to come out edible—namely the humble samgyeopsal. Quick, easy and absolutely delicious—he glossed over most of the condiments seeing you still had them at home, then he absolutely went insane when it came to the snacks, ice cream and, of course, packets of instant noodles.

Chenle had another pack of a different variant in his hands, tossed it into the snack-filled cart he was pushing around.

“You’re really playing into the sugar daddy thing,” you said as you mentally calculated the amount of debt you were in now with the addition of groceries that could last you and the girls the whole month.

“Better than you starving,” he said cheerfully, grabbing a dozen of Buldak Carbonara noodles and dumping them into the cart like a dad finding out their kid’s favorite snack. “Wouldn’t want you living off of shin ramyeon and crab balls.”

You scowled. “It wasn’t that funny.”

Chenle laughed and laughed and laughed anyway because your failed seduction plan was that hilarious if he was still making jokes about two-person groceries.

The drive home was quiet. Peaceful. Less awkward than you had initially expected when the soulful drone of music filled in the spaces with you sat in the passenger’s seat, reaching over to feed Chenle the Pepero you elected on sharing. When it all ran out, you relaxed in your seat and just… watched.

Watched your best friend in his element with his hand on the wheel while the other patted his thigh along the beat of the current song. He looked good. Unfairly so. With the lights glinting off the watch that likely made up your yearly university tuition and the high points of his face, the ruffled look of his hair and the way his jaw flexed every time he sang along the melody.

All this filled you with the urge to kiss him. Reach over and plant one on him and the thought still lingered even as you drove past the house’s gates opened with an app on your phone.

As Chenle helped put away the groceries while you pretended not to notice the leering from the peanut gallery.

As he helped himself to a Melona while keeping up with the verbal spat between him and Yizhuo munching on something yoghurt and blueberry flavoured.

It was all you could think about as you saw him out the door, and if you couldn’t help yourself and acted on it—a quick peck to the corner of Chenle’s plush mouth as thanks—leaving a sheen of your lipgloss, then that was between you, God and the security camera angled to where you stood.

Yizhuo wouldn’t notice if you deleted a few seconds of footage anyway.

Late into the night and you could still feel it. Feel him—the ghost of his kiss, his touch as everything that had transpired in the afternoon played on loop in your head.

You couldn’t sleep. Not when your mind was chanting Chenle Chenle Chenle like a mantra set to summon him. Like an itch you couldn’t get rid off no matter how hard you scratched.

If only…

That night, you decided to get well acquainted with Pinky, fishing her out deep within your drawer.

Mornings like this were rare, where all of you were awake at the same time. Even rarer that you were all up before ten, quiet. Relaxed.

No sense of urgency found on anyone’s person. No school, no jobs to clock into, no not-so-secret meetings—none of you girls had anything of priority today.

There was breakfast, arguably the most important meal of the day, though it seemed Minjeong and Yizhuo weren’t exactly in a rush demanding their eggs be cooked just the way they liked. Just fine with nursing a steaming cup of whatever energized them for the day ahead as they sat at the island counter.

Your phone chimed in the middle of cooking Yizhuo’s scrambled eggs. A text from Chenle—a sent photo to be specific and—

You screamed, nearly dropping the spatula.

fine shyt: [IMG_6969]

You: WWHAT THEBFUCJ

fine shyt: got your tickets 🤓

You: YEA I SEE THAT???????????

When you screen faded into Chenle’s caller ID, a photo of him holding up Daegal, Minjeong immediately took over the cooking as you rushed towards the living area.

“You got the tickets,” you said as you accepted the request to FaceTime, half in wonder and in disbelief that he was able to nab tickets in less than twenty-four hours and a day before the concert. You really should stop doubting Chenle and his ability (see: privilege) to get whatever, whenever. “Not that I doubted you, but the first night usually sells out quick—so how the hell.”

“You underestimate how far money can get you,” Chenle laughed. He looked sleep-ruffled, like he had just woken up. This was his cutest state yet and you really wished you were with him right now. “Think you’re ready to find out?”

“As I’ll ever be.” As long as he held your hand through it, sure. What the hell. You could survive future heart attacks caused by six figures by sheer will alone, you thought. “I asked for three tickets though. Who's the fourth one for?”

“Me,” he answered, beaming. “Someone has to drive you girls.”

“What? I mean—thanks.” That was one less thing to worry about then. “But since when do you listen to Sabrina?”

“Since last night. Still at it, by the way.” he clarified, a little too happy and if you listened closely, you could make out Sabrina’s crooning of Read your Mind on his end. “An enlightening experience, I might say.”

“Good luck on memorizing twenty-one songs then.”

“Oh, Princess. I released an album when I was eight. Memorizing the setlist is light work. Bet I could sing louder than you.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll grill you on the album thing next time because what the fuck.” The ‘Princess’ thing you elected to ignore, too early and dire to suffer an aneurysm when a concert was waiting for you.

“I’ve lived quite the life,” he mused (“oh I’m sure.”) combing his fingers through his hair. “So what do we say?”

You scoffed, fond and grateful for his generosity whether you were deserving or not. “Thank you.”

“Thank you what, baby?”

Your face twisted in horror, quickly clocking what he was trying to get you to do. “Bye Chenle.”

He was cackling when you hung up, your face on fire, yet you didn’t put in any effort to tamper the giddy grin threatening to split your face.

The tickets were yours. Chenle got the tickets and they were yours. Gosh, this was probably the best morning in your life so far and nothing could dampen your mood from doing your girls proud.

“Now do you believe us when we say you’re Chenle’s favorite?” Yizhuo asked with a mouthful of scrambled egg.

You laughed, cheeks aching from how hard you cheesed at a simple fact. “I’m starting to.”

And selfish as it sounded, you hoped that it would remain that way for a long time because you couldn’t remember a life so dull when Chenle walked in with colors so bright that it sung, and because he was your favorite, too.

a/n: waow you've reached the end! Here, have a cookie 🍪 as always, thank you soo so much for reading until the end! I'd like to thank the girls: Aria, Moon and Aeriel for letting me talk my shit about this fic and help with ideas! and yes, brainstorming with them is an almost daily occurrence and it's great mental exercise imo lol! I hope you had fun reading the chaos that was this fic. I know I had fun laughing to myself writing all this 😆 and please please please let me know your thoughts! Likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3

TAGLIST: @jaylaxies @hoondrop @gojosmojodojo @justalildumpling @dammit-jjk @learnthisfeeling @90s-belladonna @spacejip @ykvdani @drunkhee @neozon3nha @dinosaurtoothbrushwithninjasauce @sunghoonsgfreal @champagne1221 @yuyita-rosier @grimlinshere @jvngw0n @nanaxwi @kissesfromdarling @peterm4rker @haechology @evergreeneyesx @bbina @nctseventeensworld (special thanks to those who asked to be part of the taglist!)

[aroace-nut-case]

last one’d be really fun to explore

is it clothes piloting the person?

is it an outfit that gets up on its own and lives your life?

could start out as the first one and slowly get worse and become the second

which fear would that fall under?

stranger maybe?

idk

let’s find out

Statements I would absolutely love to see:

Person has grudge on inanimate object. This takes over their life.

Itching

My house hates me oh god oh god

My computer is fucking BLEEDING

I keep causing people's deaths and I don't know why I swear it's accidental

Trapeze artist dies falling from the trapeze over and over again

Teeth

[cruel-as-sin]

cowboy!logan tying you up with his lasso and edging you mercilessly until youre literally begging for him to let you cum and the whole time he is just teasing the hell out of you calling you needy and desperate and cute and he's taunting you "cmon sugar surely if you want it so bad you can cum right now" as he pulls away from you for the fifteenth time of the night is this anything

MHDITISTIYDFIWGHISDJ

AHSYDHDHDHDM

MGMGMGMHMMH

GUMME GIMEMF GIME NOWZ Now. NOW .

im going to go crazy.

CRAZY.

he’d have me begging pretty fast. low resolve here. he’d have me CRYING. telling him i’ll do anything, everything

“anything, sugar?”

he tilts his head as he pulls his hand away from you for the- you don’t even know how many times. you’ve lost count.

“yes- fuck, lo, please, i’ll do anything-”

a smirk coming to rest on his face.

“you promise?”

his tone is mocking you, but you’re too desperate to notice or to care.

nodding frantically, you plead with him. “yes, i promise, logan, i swear, please just let me cum-”

a click of his tongue, a small shake of his head, a smile peeking through his expression, one that only means trouble. “alright.”

his hands return to their previous ministrations, and just as you’re about to reach your peak, he leans in to whisper in your ear. he doesn’t stop this time- just lets his words sink in as he pushes you over the edge.

“but don’t say i didn’t warn you.”

[smile-files]

i continue to find ii3 baffling. why did they make it (this isn't to hate on the season, i'm genuinely curious)

[theotherbuckley]

Y'all ever read a fic that is about a similar idea as a fic you're writing and suddenly you lose all motivation to write your fic because you could never write something as good as the masterpiece you just read? Yeah.

[fluffykitteninabox]

me at 15 reading about ocd on the internet: oh that sounds like a nightmare I don't think I could live like that, so glad I definitely don't have it

me getting diagnosed 7 years later:

[happyccino]

oh

that's

oh

i'm

i am legitimately tearing up oh wow

[outoftheseine]

BUCKY BARNES | SEX POLLEN TROPE

main masterlist | note: as the trope includes smut, all of the fics include +18 content. also since at least one party is under the influence of some kind of a chemical, this is dubious content. please proceed with caution and minors dni. enjoy!

toxic heat • bucky barnes x reader | by @nyletac

summary: while waiting for the extraction team after a successful mission, bucky leaves you and runs into a greenhouse room in the mission building with strange plants. accidentally breathing in the gas from the plants he returns to you, but something is off. (smut) (6,4k words)

take you there • bucky barnes x reader | by @heli0s-writes

summary: sam plays a game called fuck or die. it's like he willed it into existence as you and hucky explore the basement of an old hydra lair. (smut, dub-con) (3,8k words)

louder than fear • bucky barnes x fem!reader | by @godmadeaterribleerror

summary: missions involving hydra often go very wrong. this is different. this is worse. this is a strange bioweapon, nobody telling you exactly what's wrong, and staring at the ceiling as bucky roars you name. it’s echoing in your brain. and you love him. (smut, light angst) (8,5k words)

lustful agony • bucky barnes x plus size!reader | by @fatecantstopme

summary: after getting hit in the face with a pink dust during a visit to an old hydra lab, you are confused as to what happened. thankfully, your mission partner knows what it is, and thankfully he knows the solution. (smut, dub-con, unprotected sex, masturbation)

what was rule number #2 again? • tfatws!bucky barnes x reader | by @satinestales

summary: messing around in banner's lab, the night before your mission wasn't as good an idea as you thought, and you begin to question your actions the moment you step out of it. things worsen when you realize the super soldier serum isn't immune to an unknown contagious disease. (smut)

delirium • bucky barnes x reader | by @flowersforbucky

summary: stranded in the middle of the alaskan wilderness with no means of communication after being exposed to a foreign drug, you're reluctant to accept help from the one person who has a shot at saving you. (smut, dub-con, unprotected sex, angst, friends to lovers, avenger!reader) (4,1k words)

play pretend | part two • bucky barnes x reader | by @wkemeup

summary: when bucky is injected with a substance that leaves him desperate for release, you offer your help. (smut, dub-con) (7,8k words)

summary of pt.2: in the aftermath of munich, bucky struggles to go back to how things were before. but now that he knows how it is to love you, he's not sure he can. (smut, mutual pining) (5,8k words)

strawberries • bucky barnes x fem!reader | by @ellemj

summary: bucky, the man with a long list of girls on his roster, gets exposed to a sex pollen in the field. will he fuck the first girl he calls or the girl he's wanted for the last two months? (smut, dub-con, unprotected sex, size kink, fuckboy!bucky) (7,5k words)

does it hurt? | bonus chapter • bucky barnes x fem!reader | by @ellemj

summary: bucky never would've gone out of his way to help you if he knew that hydra was still watching his every move, if he knew that it would shift their focus to you. when you're targeted and taken, it's his fault and he'll do anything to save you. anything. (angst, smut, unprotected sex, abduction, violence, voyeurism, mentions of sa) (24,3k words)

summary of bonus ch.: when you're finally out of hydra’s clutches, the recovery process drives you and bucky farther and farther apart. you can't decide if what you felt between you was real or chemically-induced. what will it take to sway you? (smut, angst, non-descriptive smut) (12,4k words)

untitled • bucky barnes x reader | by @myfictionaldreams

summary: it was your first mission out with your mentor, bucky, but not all goes to plan when you stumble across an old hydra laboratory and accidentally trigger a trap. (smut, dub-con, grumpy x sunshine, rough sex, praise kink)

high for this • new avenger!bucky barnes x reader | by @buckysleftbicep

summary: during a mission, you and bucky are exposed to a gas meant to strip away restraint. he resists, and well, you try. but when the heat fades, it’s not the mission that haunts you both, it’s what happened behind that door. (smut, unprotected sex, rough sex, angst, regret) (3,8k words)

desperate | uncertain an sure • bucky barnes x fem!reader | by @buckets-and-trees

summary: enemies? rivals? it's always been reluctant teamwork between you and the winter soldier, but when put in a situation where personal feelings have to be put aside, maybe actual personal feelings are uncovered. (smut, kidnapping)

desperate measures • bucky barnes x avenger!fem!reader | by @simplyholl

summary: when you encounter a mysterious substance during a mission, it forces you and your mission partner to get closer. (smut)

petals • bucky barnes x fem!reader | by @biteofcherry

summary: it was supposed to be so simple. a boring reckon mission. just to check the cabin and secure any samples of the ongoing experiments the former hydra doctor ran the place. however the unexpected comes in the form of a flower. (smut, dub-con, fingering)

unleashed • avengers!bucky barnes x fem!reader | by @veltana

summary: during a mission, bucky is exposed to something that removes his inhibitions and all he wants is you. (smut, slight fluff, possessive!bucky, unprotected sex) (4,2k words)

crimson fever • bucky barnes x fem!reader | by @mandoalorian

summary: in the icy shadows of 1944 occupied europe, you uncover a dangerous hydra secret that could shift the war’s tide. but hydra’s ruthless scientist, arnim zola, marks you as a threat, unleashing a sinister drug—“crimson fever”—that set your body and soul ablaze with an unrelenting desire. as you fight to protect vital intel, your path collides with sergeant bucky barnes, your childhood friend from brooklyn, whose unspoken love for you burns brighter than the war’s chaos. (smut, dub-con, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, violence, torture) (6,7k words)

[cardhamine]

in the spirit of talking about our interests without feeling guilty, I will drop one fun fact about Breached which is that I have written nearly 20k words of a college AU ... rant in notes

*said like a sinner in a confessional and anyone reading this is the unwitting priest*

[quantumcryptologist]

the real hard part of making a milestone for humanity isn't the research it's putting it together, and then convincing people of it without them killing you or shaming you in to living your twilight in misery because they didn't want to deal with the shit you had to say for a few hundred years and rather bitch and moan about the mistakes than appreciate the whole

[rainestorm1019]

[chanifesto]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 smart girl | go hyuntak

pairing: hyuntak x afab!reader (weak hero class 2)

synopsis: a university au in which hyuntak, determined and mighty and ready for anything, turns to mush in your presence. that is, until he has you turning into mush under him.

genre: somewhat of a smutty slowburn

word count: 8.1k

warnings: [MDNI!] explicit sexual content, softdom!hyuntak, making out, grinding, pet names (baby, pretty girl, smart girl) nipple play, oral (f rec.), fingering, piv sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it! please!), mentions of STI testing and birth control,  just enough consent checks, absolute devotion, your insides are soft, his outsides are hard, gosh he’s such a simp for you, i have never written smut before proceed with caution

reader notes: written with afab!reader in mind. reader has breasts, a vagina, and hair long enough to fall over their shoulder. all characters are consenting and over 18 yo.

۶ৎ 𝑙𝑒𝑒'𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑢𝑑𝑒 ࿐ i am feverishly starved for this man. it’s only right i dedicate my first post to him. enjoy (at least, i hope you do).

Hyuntak thought his heart was about to ram out of his chest.

  He was perfectly serene ten minutes ago, when it was just him, Hu-min, Jun-tae, and Si-eun at a booth in the university cafeteria. Perfectly serene basking in hoarse laughter at Hu-min’s flimsy puns. Perfectly serene, before you padded towards their table alongside Hu-min’s girlfriend, a textbook caged against your chest, the slightest quirk of a smile clutching at the corners of your pretty lips in response to something Hu-min’s girlfriend had whispered to you.

  You slid into the bench opposite of him at the other end of the table, quietly greeting the other boys as you slipped your tote off your shoulder. If Hyuntak hadn’t been ambushed by his own nervous system, he would have seen the kind eyes you offered him instead of finding a sudden interest in the nutrition facts of his energy drink.

  He was perfectly serene ten minutes ago, before you got there.

  And now you sat there, gently scribbling in your agenda, your plush bottom lip softly caught between your teeth, unaware of the fevered anguish you had inflicted upon him.

  Hyuntak, who was previously doubled over in laughter, was now pressed against the back of his chair, sweaty palms rubbing ever-so-slightly against the soft fabric of his sweatpants. Heat had begun to ghost down the sides of his face to his neck. The last time he was this strung out was for his first basketball tournament, and that was seven years ago. Gosh, the things your presence did to him.

  Hyuntak curtly flips over his wrist to check the time on his watch, just as he did thirty seconds ago, and thirty seconds before that. 

  His chest expands in a quiet huff. He had fifteen minutes before he had to leave for his class, more like twenty since the first ten minutes of the hour are allotted for students to relocate between possible back-to-back classes. Hyuntak always believed he could get to his classes in five—a belief he always proved wrong.

  It was the start of a new semester, so it only made sense to depart earlier than he usually would to locate his lecture hall in time for class. This logic was foreign to him, he was never concerned about getting to class on time, just as long as he showed up.

  But he had to get away from you.

  Had to get away from this feeling you were giving him, the feeling you gave him whenever you came around.

  Hyuntak only ever saw you with Hu-min’s girlfriend—your best friend—and that, too, was usually just on campus. You would show up to their group together, and then you would flip open a textbook or write in your agenda or type notes onto your laptop. It seemed like it didn’t matter where you were, you were always studying, always ready to put that pretty brain of yours to work.

  And that’s how it typically was. Hyuntak had never exchanged more than a few words with you because you were always studying, but he was slowly charmed by you. 

  He adored the scrunch of your eyebrows when you were stuck on a practice question, adored the tip of your tongue sticking through your pouting lips whenever you were writing something, adored the way your hair would fall over your shoulder whenever you leaned into your textbooks.

  He adored you, but he loathed the feeling you gave him.

  The tight chest, the heartbeat on a rampage, it was all so foreign to him. Hyuntak, who was usually so poised, so vigorous, and sometimes a little arrogant, was absolute mush in the palm of your hand.

  And you didn’t even know it.

  Hyuntak slid his chair back with a crisp screech, pushing himself up into a stiff stance while catching the looks of the acquaintances around him.

  “What’s wrong, Gotak? Where are you going?” Hu-min questioned, a reminiscent grin charming his features from what must be the aftermath of a joke Hyuntak was too zoned out to hear, his arm slung over the shoulders of his girlfriend and head hung back to look at Hyuntak’s face.

  “I have class.”

  It’s an abrupt response accompanied by Hyuntak’s darting eyes at Hu-min before he swiftly leans down and collects the strap of his backpack in a tight grasp.

  Hu-min reaches for his phone on the table, tapping the screen. “But you don’t have class for another…”

  “Fourteen minutes, I know,” Hyuntak brisky replies, straightening up and slinging his bag over his shoulder. His eyes remain downcast as he shuffles with rapid feet to the side of the table, his hand rushing to grab the back of his chair to push it in.

  “So why-”

  “I need to find the lecture hall,” Hyuntak spurts out, his eyes bulging at Hu-min against his own will. Hu-min’s eyebrow quirks into a raise, his eyes holding Hyuntak’s in a quiet stare.

  “Where is it?”

  This is not a voice Hyuntak was expecting to hear. This was the last voice Hyuntak needed to hear.

  Hyuntak’s billowing eyes find themselves striking at your figure standing at the other end of the table, your tote hung over your shoulder and textbook gripped within the embrace of your arms once again. When did you even get up? Did you always move so quietly?

  “Huh?” The dumb-witted sound clambers out of his throat. Did Hyuntak imagine that? He doesn’t think so, but he hopes so.

  “Uh, where is it?” Your voice is quieter when you repeat yourself, almost hesitant, “I was going to look for my lecture hall now, too. I thought, if yours is in the same building, we could walk there together.”

  Hyuntak stares at you blankly, eyes still bulging.

  Did Hyuntak imagine that?

  He had to have. There’s no way you’d pay him any mind, no way you’d want a guy like him around you, walking you to class, beside you and breathing the same air as he walked you to said class. What if your hands brushed on accident? You probably wouldn’t want that, you probably think he has sweaty hands, all calloused from the rough rubber of basketballs and the many years of taekwondo. You probably think his fingers are grimy and his hair is greasy and his teeth are yellow and his breath smells bad and his–

  “Or– we don’t have to.”

  Your voice is nimble, but it’s enough to stir Hyuntak out of his head. His eyes blink at the sudden impact of mental whiplash.

  “We’re probably in different buildings anyway–”

  “North building.”

  Hyuntak’s breath had entered his lungs but had not returned back out of him. He stood still watching you, waiting for your response, and if you weren’t fast enough, Hyuntak thought he might faint from lack of oxygen.

  You gaze at him, and then your plump lips tug into a small smile.

  “Me too.”

  Hyuntak’s fists were moistened with perspiration, and the cool winter air made no difference to the toasting skin of his face. It definitely didn’t help that you were trotting beside him, your textbook cuddled in your cute arms, your soft hair wisping with each breath of wind.

  Hyuntak was determined to stare at anything but you. The trees lining the brick path, the students walking in all sorts of directions, the static dead leaves caught in the corner of a building. What a coincidence that all these things happened to be on the opposite side of him, the side that had no indication of your being.

  Your acknowledgement of this was unfortunate for Hyuntak, whether you realized it or not, so when he heard the sound of your mellow voice prick his ears, he couldn’t help the way his shoulders jumped and head snapped.

  “Do you not like me?”

  You said it with a chuckle, eyes kind but curious, squinting at him, assessing what his body was subconsciously trying to tell you.

  His shoulders had dropped but remained strained closer to his midline. His lips had pursed into a clueless pout, eyebrows drawn and stiff, conjuring a faint patch of creases between them. His wide eyes, however, glinted, in awe or fear you did not know. But, they glinted.

  And then, Hyuntak eased. Like water, his body flowed into his more natural posture. His fingers flexed in his sweatpant pockets and his eyebrows anchored down. His eyes, faintly glossed, blinked into a squint.

  He was an idiot.

  “No, I do like you– I mean, I don’t not like you, you’re cool. I just, yeah, I think you’re cool,” he blurts, “Why do you ask?”

  His face is blank as he eyes you. Your lips spread out marginally in amusement.

  “You’re always laughing around with Hu-min and the others before I show up. Then you get all quiet and distant,” you explained, “It gives me the feeling that you don’t want me around. I thought you just didn’t like me.”

  Oh, he was such an idiot.

  “I don’t like you?– No, what, why would you think that? That’s absurd.” Hyuntak almost doesn’t feel himself scowling. You watch him, amusement still soaking through your face. “You’re always studying, I’ve barely spoken to you. I barely even know you.”

  You gaze with a giggle.

  His scowl tightens. “Just– can you– gosh,” he huffs, “What room is your lecture in?”

  “One fifty.”

  Hyuntak’s scowl simmers. His eyebrows knit together.

  “That’s where my lecture is.”

  “Linear algebra?” You question.

  His features question you in return. “Yeah.”

  “Oh, we must be in the same class then.”

  Hyuntak feels sweat begin to coat the insides of his fists again. He never expected to see you in any of his classes. He had never seen you in any of them before. And linear algebra? What could you possibly need linear algebra for? You obviously weren’t in his program, so what’s with this?

  “Do you need to take it for your program?” 

  You shake your head. “It’s my elective.”

  Of course, you, with your angel face and luscious hair and pretty, big brain, were taking linear algebra as your elective.

  “Right, okay,” Hyuntak huffs.

  Of course you were.

  It had become routine for you and Hyuntak to walk to your shared class together. Hyuntak, who was always five minutes late rather than early, found himself showing up to the lecture hall and waiting for the previous class to finish. And you? You were always right there, right by his side.

  As the semester progressed, so did your friendship with Hyuntak. It started with faint encounters—he would ask you simple questions about lecture material during lecture breaks. Soon, the two of you had started doing the assigned practice problems together in the campus library. At first, it was just after class. Then, Hyuntak decided he needed more of your help.

  Or perhaps, he just needed more of your time.

  Hyuntak was quite competent in mathematics. As quick as you were with solving problems, Hyuntak offered himself as fair competition. He definitely benefited from the wisdom you could bestow upon him, but he most definitely did not leech off of it. No, Hyuntak was quite competent. He just needed more you.

  Hyuntak’s nervous system gradually surrendered to him. He found, the more time he spent with you going over questions, he no longer felt a winding in his chest, no longer felt his breath retreat from its post. His hands remained as dry as the Sahara, and he wouldn’t want them any other way.

  Eventually, Hyuntak found himself asking you to cafes—wouldn’t it be nice to study with a warm drink? 

  You had obliged with no hesitation, leaving Hyuntak with a pleasant feeling fogging through his chest and vessels and bones.

  He took you to cafes littered across the city, all around the campus exterior. A French cafe, an Italian cafe, he’d even taken you to a cat cafe, one where you were both guaranteed to get the least amount of work done, falling victim to tufts of fur and fluff.

  When he learned of your love for reading, Hyuntak took you to a book cafe and watched, no, admired as you browsed through the shelves, grazing the spines of different books with your pretty fingers, eyes wide and marveling.

  The only mistake Hyuntak had made was taking you to a cafe that specialized in your favourite drink. He almost didn’t fathom the anguish that smacked him when you moaned in pleasure from your first sip.

  “Mmm.”

  He couldn’t move a nanometer. He couldn’t swallow the sip he had taken from his own drink. He could only listen to you, hear your ethereal sound reverberate within the walls of his head.

  “God, this is so good. Where did you find this place?”

  Hyuntak gapes at your plush lips, the gate to all the pretty sounds that could be elicited from the deepest parts of you. He can’t help but let his own lips tingle at the ghost of what yours might feel like against them, what they’d look like wrapped around his tip–

  “Hyuntak?”

  He thinks he can feel the hot blood that was rushing to his cock freeze in his vessels.

  He swallows. “Huh?”

  “I said, it tastes so good, where do you keep finding these places?”

  Your eyes look so innocent peering at him, so oblivious to the dirty picture Hyuntak had painted of you, of your lips, your sound…

  “Oh. I just, I guess I know my way around the city,” he muses, “I like to try new things, new places out.”

  “Well, keep trying out new places,” you say. Then, you take another sip, “Mmm, it’s so good, Hyuntak.”

  Yeah, taking you here was definitely a mistake.

  The semester was nearing an end, and so came the final round of assignments.

  A wave of tension had ambushed the entire collegiate crowd. The library was full to the brim with students cramping over assignment materials and lecture content, the hallways of each building were full of chatter either discussing chapter solutions or champagne problems. No one had missed being swallowed by this sea of stress.

  You and Hyuntak had succumbed to it fully.

  “This question makes no sense,” Hyuntak muttered, slowly swaying himself in a chair in the empty classroom you’d both colonized, staring at the assignment question that lit up his laptop screen, chewing down on his lip and winding a pencil through his long fingers.

  You stood before him facing the black board, chalk painting your fingers as you scrutinized the scribbles you had flowered the board with, trying to make sense of the question at hand.

  “There was something similar to this in chapter thirteen, but it’s not quite the same...” you murmured.

  Hyuntak forces out a heavy huff. You shuffle to face him.

  “We can stop now, we’ve put in a good amount of work, and we’re making progress,” you suggested, watching his form swaying, basking atop the chair like he owned the entirety of the university.

  He was clad in a tight black t-shirt. You couldn’t help but wonder at his biceps, swoll from crossing his arms. His legs were spread, concealed in black sweats to match. His hair, tousled over his eyes from his veiny hand raking through his strands each time he felt a slap of tension gifted from the assignment question. And his eyes, god his devil eyes, they drank your figure in like red wine.

  He sighed, still eying you. “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s stop here.”

  You nodded and turned to collect your things.

  There was a pause, and then, “Would you…”

  Your head swiveled to face Hyuntak again, your hand reaching into your tote with your pencil case. “Mhm?”

  Hyuntak had stopped swaying, his feet planted against the floor. His biceps, still crossed against his chest, swelled at you. His bottom lip rolled between his teeth.

  “Would you wanna come over to mine on Saturday?” His voice is timid, but it doesn’t waver, “We can finish working on the assignment. And, I can make us ramen.”

  Hyuntak blurted the last comment in hopes of further persuading you into his humble abode. Luckily for him, it seemed to have worked, and he almost clutched his chest as his heart fluttered to the ring of your giggle.

  “Sure, I’ll see you Saturday,” you smile, “Promise you’ll make it good?”

  Hyuntak grins and sticks out his pinky.

  Saturday had circled around, and Hyuntak was circling around his coffee table, kneeling to, once again, fix the vanilla-scented candle—the one he had bought and lit just for you—before moving it back to its original place, when you knocked at his door.

  Hyuntak heaved himself up off his carpeted floor. His heart was steady, his lungs didn’t betray him, and his nose was happily lazing in the scent of warm ramen and vanilla, but he still found himself wiping his hands across the front of his sweatpants as he walked over to the door, his hands scrunching at the soft material before reaching for the knob.

  He pulled it open, revealing you on the other side, and he swears he feels his heart stop for a millisecond.

  You looked the way you always did, if anything, you were just a little more undone. Bare faced, your delicate hair combed back in a clip. You had worn a flimsy black t-shirt—gosh, no bra?—that fit snug along your torso, and a pair of sweatpants that hung low on your hips. Your tote was slung over your shoulder, and your linear algebra textbook was pressed between your forearms and trunk.

  You hoisted your textbook snug against your chest once you took in Hyuntak, his welcoming frame swallowed in one of his favourite blue hoodies.

  It takes a second for Hyuntak to find his words before he’s welcoming you into his apartment.

  “Hey, come in,” he started, “did you find the place okay?”

  You scrambled through the door, giving him a smile. “Yeah, it wasn’t too bad.”

  He’s closing the door behind you when you shimmy your feet out of your shoes. “That’s good–”

  “I think I figured it out!” You declared, traipsing over to his coffee table in a hurried skip.

  He watched you take out your supplies, organizing them across the surface of his coffee table, adoring your grace and need for order.

  He feels warm, his lips spread in a closed smile, and he thinks the ramen will just have to wait until you’ve had a chance to giddily fill him in on all your ideas.

  He carries himself over to the couch and plops down. You sat with your back turned to him, kneeling in front of the coffee table, laying out the notes you had written up since your last study session.

  You’re too far for him to hear all the solutions your incredible brain had come up with, so Hyuntak pats the spot next to him. You turn your head.

  “Get up here, let me hear your theories.”

  Your eyes gaze into his before traveling down to his hand on the couch. You nod.

  Collecting your things and joining him on the couch, you start handing him your notes, reciting the details of the solution you had been working towards. He nods along, listening to you ramble about how chapter thirteen had been conjoined to some topics in chapter fifteen, or at least that’s what he’s able to make out of it.

  Hyuntak can’t concentrate with your thigh brushing against his every time you move around to grab another sheet or book or pencil. He’s holding your notebook, reading your writing and little scribbles, but nothing's getting through to him. He can hear your voice—your angel voice—but he’s not comprehending the jumble of letters you're spitting out.

  He can hear your voice, and god he wants to comprehend you so bad, but his mind is racing, running away from his conscious morality, and taking him to a tavern that offers nothing but hot, liquid lust.

  Hyuntak feels searing blood surging through his body, feels it pool into the rod between his legs. His face is starting to heat up, and he’s afraid of leaving moist fingerprints on your pretty notes. His breath is starting to gallop, his chest raising just a bit higher and falling just a tad deeper. Hyuntak, who had grown to be so cool and calm around you, was now hot and desperate, and instead needed you around him.

  Your thigh feels so supple against his, feels so grippable. Hyuntak can’t help but wonder what both of them would feel like pressing into the sides of his face–

  “Hyuntak, are you listening?”

  You’re looking at him, your eyes kind, pitifully unaware of how Hyuntak had you spread out in his head.

  “Huh?” Hyuntak doesn’t think he can conjure any other sound, let alone move any muscle in his body. Your notebook rests in his lap, balancing against the wrath of a hardening cock you were faultlessly oblivious to.

  Your lips tug into a mellow frown. “I was telling you how we approached the matrix incorrectly in the beginning. Hold on, maybe I should just show you the textbook chapter I’m referring to.”

  You turn towards the coffee table and reach over for the textbook, bending just enough for the dainty lace of your white panties to peak over the band of your sweatpants.

  Hyuntak thinks he might cry.

  “Y/N…” It comes out as a soft mumble, just audible enough to get your attention, wisping out of his mouth and traveling through the now viscous, honey-like air.

  You swivel towards him, the textbook sitting in your lap. The lace of your panties shy back into hiding.

  “Mhm?”

  You’re gazing at him with those godforsaken prudent angel eyes. His feel so heavy, so full of heat and desire, and he’s staring at you with them, begging you to unravel the things you were doing to his body.

  He thinks you need a little help, so he lifts the notebook from his lap, unveiling his aching cock stretching into the tightening fabric of his sweats.

  He watches your eyes shift to the subtle action, watches the skin around them spread back, and—fuck, your pupils are dilating?

  His breathing has deepened, and his dark eyes droop into begging slits. He needs you so bad, has been needing you all these months, but he doesn’t just need your body.

  “These weren’t my intentions,” his voice is so low, so gentle, bordering on a whisper, “please believe me. I’ve liked you for– fuck, I don’t know, a millenia I think.”

  His eyes wash all over your face, searching for any indication of a reaction, perhaps even reciprocity. He follows your eyes traveling back up to meet his. 

  Your gaze is velvety, eyes heavy-lidded and chasmic. You’re staring at his lips, parting with each deep breath he takes.

  “Do you like me too?” Hyuntak’s heartbeat hurts. His heart rhythmically hammers against its thoracic confines.

  You nod. His heart cramps.

  He needs to hear you, has to savour his name rolling off your tongue in a sweet confession.

  One of his hands slowly reaches up to the clip imprisoning your hair, unclipping it and letting your hair brush down your neck.

  The clip falls from his hand and onto the space on the couch behind you. He snakes his hand past your hair, lets his fingers graze into a delicate hold on the back of your neck. He gently rubs. 

  “Words, baby.”

  You think you’ve forgotten how to breathe.

  “I like you, too, Hyuntak,” you murmur.

  Hyuntak exhales.

  “Please, can I kiss you?” It’s a muted whimper.

  You pry the textbook and sheets of notes off your lap, pushing them onto the couch beside you, before you lean into Hyuntak, answering him more viscerally than he had calculated.

  The hand on your neck is hooking you in, responding to your movement.

  The heavy lids of your eyes give up, closing to a shut.

  You definitely can’t breathe now, and there’s no point in trying because your lips are molding into the plush pinkness of Hyuntak’s.

  It’s such a desperate kiss, you're both moving into the plushness of the other. You think you can taste his hunger on his lips, and you think you might wail because he tastes starved.

  Hyuntak swats your notebook onto the couch beside him, fingers gripping into the supple flesh of your neck and slowly grazing down your back. His hand falls to your hip, squeezing it, his other hand clutching your opposite thigh to work you onto his lap.

  Your body yields to him. Lips still moving into one another, you let him guide your hips onto his.

  You break away, noses grazing, breaths deep. And then, you’re latching back onto each other.

  The seconds melt, stretching like honey between your mouths. It’s slow, then urgent, and everything in between. It’s you and Hyuntak pouring months of anticipation and desperation into each other. Your lips are swelling against the other, saliva mixed into a drowsy potion that you both keep lapping at.

  Hyuntak’s hands are gripping onto your hips, and you find yourself grinding your heat down into his hardness. He groans, his sound reverberating into you, and grips harder, pushing himself up into you. His body responds to you unconsciously.

  Your lips are melting into one another, your hips are joined right where you both needed each other, separated by what you both thought was too much fabric. The leisurely friction heats the slit between your legs. You feel the hard curve of his cock rubbing the moistening patch on your panties into your hole.

  Hyuntak’s hands are silking their way into your shirt, rubbing and gripping your bare waist, when he breaks away.

  He’s panting, his voice hoarse, nose chafing yours. “Bedroom?”

  “Please.”

  And then your lips drive back into each other.

  You’re wrapping your arms around his neck, his around your waist, when he pushes the two of you into a stand, staggering across his apartment to his bedroom with your body pressed against his. Your hands are feeding into his hair, tugging, luxuriating in the softness of his strands. You feel him moan against your lips.

  When you break away, it’s almost painful. You didn’t need to breathe anymore, you just needed his mouth on yours, lips working into yours, sucking your tongue against his. 

  He lowers you onto his bed, and you finally get to see what had become of him.

  His lips are swollen, red and covered in a blend of your spit, parted to let the string of quick, deep breaths flow out of him. His hair is fluffed, strands sticking out to where your hands had been, almost aching, reaching out for your touch again. Dark strands loll over his eyes, his heavy, heavy eyes that crawl over your body, licking, biting, sucking at your supple skin with his leaden gaze.

  You’re no different. Your pout has swelled, pink and wet. Your nipples pebble against the material of your shirt, breasts raising with each hallowing breath that flutters past your lips, weeping out for his hands to touch them. You’re leaning back on your hands, your legs spread into brackets fit just for Hyuntak’s frame.

  His hands reach back and grab onto his hoodie, pulling it over his head, letting it fall from his pulsing forearm and to the ground.

  His golden skin looks so warm to touch, and you think you might reach out to graze your fingers down the ridges of his tight torso, but Hyuntak is already moving.

  He’s leaning down into you, his arms caging your waist, warm hand brushing along your lower back. He’s catching your lips in an embrace, softly sucking onto your bottom lip, licking it and letting it swell in his mouth, then pulls away to look at you.

  His fingers rub the fabric of your t-shirt between their tips. “Can I take this off?”

  “Yes,” you breathe.

  There’s a warm glint in his eyes, and then he nods. His hands slide under your shirt, savouring the heat of your waist, before lifting it up and over your head.

  There’s an inviting coolness in Hyuntak’s room, and it hits your fiery skin, dousing over the upper half of your body, hardening your nipples even more.

  You peek up at Hyuntak.

  He’s already gazing at you, eyes soft, smooth like melted milk chocolate, slowly breathing through his nose. Your shirt falls from his hand, onto the blue pool of his hoodie.

  Hyuntak is taken by the sight of your half-naked body. He thinks he nearly salivates when his eyes fall over your pretty tits, the most beautiful pair he thinks he’ll ever see. Perfect, simply because they were yours. He can’t help but let his tongue scrape against the roof of his mouth, trying to mimic the way he wants to lave over your hardened nipples.

  There’s a genial quirk to his swollen lips. Your cheeks start to flush, heating from the warmth of his gaze, and you feel a wistful smile takeover your features.

  Hyuntak leans back down into you. A strong arm curves against your back, the pads of his fingers whisper with the soft hairs prickling across the back of your neck.

  He delicately pulls you down against his mattress, and you let him. His forearm rests near your head, keeping him above you as he kisses you again, slow and wet. 

  His bare torso is so warm against yours. He’s bent over the edge of his bed, grinding down into you again. Your thighs are grazing his flanks, heels pressing into the edge of his bed, hips grinding up to answer his, scavenging for more traction.

  Hyuntak’s arm is pressing your body into his, desperately trying to dissolve your beings together. The feeling of your tits rubbing against his chest makes him shiver with anticipation.

  His big hand skims down your back, circling lazily over your waist. It climbs higher up, inching closer to your breast, until his palm smoothes over your peak. 

  You sigh into his mouth, and Hyuntak is urged to give you more, whatever you need, so he can hear more of your ethereal sounds.

  He gathers as much of you as he can into the cup of his hand, pressing into your pretty tit, and gives it a soft squeeze. You moan into him, and he bucks his hips harder into you.

  His thumb murmurs slowly over your nipple, rubbing a languid circle around it, rousing a whine from the back of your throat.

  Hyuntak groans, pulling away from your lips with a pop, and plants an urgent kiss to the corner of your mouth. He kisses down your jaw, mouth open and hot, onto your neck, gently sucking at your skin. 

  You’re too swept in the feeling of his hot lips loitering down your complexion to realize Hyuntak has a destination in mind. 

  His tongue flattens over your pebbled nipple, sucking it into his mouth.

  “Mmmm.”

  Hyuntak sucks harder, swirling his tongue over the tip of your peak. His hand is pushing more of your breast into his mouth. 

  Your lips vibrate with moans. Your slick is pooling into your panties, splurging within your pussy lips with each grind Hyuntak offers. Your toes curl into the comforter because of how desperately you're pushing your hips into his. One of your hands is clutching at his hard shoulder, the other basking through his hair.

  You needed more, god you needed so much more.

  You're pulling Hyuntak’s head off your chest, your fingers gripping into his hair. His lips suck off your nipple, leaving it with a sheen of his saliva, a thin sliver of spit being the only thing connecting him to your breast.

  He pops off with a moan, eyes shut tight at the feeling of your tugging at him. He opens them, lids shadowing his sight with desire. 

  Your eyes are pleading, soaking him in. “Need more, Hyune.”

  Hyuntak feels your order shoot straight to his throbbing dick, then nods.

  And his lips are back on your skin, soft as sin.

  “I’ll give it to you, baby, gonna give it to you so good,” he murmurs against you, moving down your body.

  His fingers hook into the band of your sweats. “M’gonna make you feel so good.”

  You’re up, leaning back against your forearms. You lift your hips to let him tug your sweats off your legs.

  He draws them off, kneeling in between your legs on the edge of the bed. His hands skim over your legs, fingers trailing absentmindedly over the expanse of your skin.

  You’re an angel beneath him, almost bare on his sheets if not for your white panties, the cute little bow that decorates the waistband inviting Hyuntak to unwrap you. His eyes dance over you, over the wet patch that renders the fabric just under your hole translucent. 

  Fuck, you were a wet dream, the most beautiful, cinematic wet dream rejuvenated into reality, spread out just for him, soaking just for him. Hyuntak takes in your angel form, and he is wreaked. 

  You were lying there all pretty, on his bed, and Hyuntak can’t help but think the months of prowling with the torturous feeling your presence gave him was irrefutably worth it.

  Hyuntak clasps a hand over one of your ankles, lifting it up to rest on his shoulder, fingers lightly grazing up and down. He grapples with the whimper that threatens to spill out of him.

  “Look so pretty, so perfect for me.” He licks his lips. “Been such a smart girl, hm? Need to reward you.”

  Hyuntak wants to stand there, idolizing you with parted lips, watching your tits expand with each of your breaths, eyes droop with need, hips twitch with hopelessness. But he has to give you what you need, has to make you feel good.

  He itches to make you feel good. He has to, after all, you’d been working so hard this semester.

  So, he slowly drops to his knees in front of you and pulls your thighs onto his shoulders.

  He can smell your heady wetness through your panties, now lucid from your deprivation. He breathes out against you.

  His air cools the patch of slick. It’s a potent sensation that has your back curving off the sheets.

  “Take them off, please,” it leaves your lips concealed in a whine.

  Hyuntak brushes the tip of his nose against your aching bud, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to the soaked patch.

  You’re cunt flutters, trying to clamp down on emptiness. You whimper.

  Hyuntak slings his thumbs into the waistband of your panties, dragging them through your legs before they finally clear your feet.

  He’s gripping your thighs down into his shoulders, drinking in the sight of you, bare and spread for him. 

  “Such a pretty cunt… my smart, beautiful girl,” he mumbles, eyes drowning in the sight of your glistening pussy, watching your stickiness pool out of you. He wants to savour you, wants to drag his tongue through you with selfishness and greed until he knows his taste buds will be coated with you for days. He wants to take his time, but you had been so good, so smart, working so hard, and you needed him so badly. The last thing Hyuntak wanted to do was deny you for his own pleasure.

  He decides he’ll hold you down and savour you another time, before he crashes into you.

  Hyuntak licks a thick strip from your hole to your clit. It’s such a delicious feeling, there’s a moan breaking through your voice box, and your hips are delinquently rolling themselves into his tongue.

  He sucks your clit into his mouth, licking once across its surface, and letting it go. His tongue squishes through your folds, driving back to dig the tip into your hole, and doing it all over again like a broken record.

  The sounds are filthy, wet with lust. You can hear Hyuntak sucking on your clit, hear his tongue squelch and squish through your slick. Moans and whimpers are clambering out of you, whether you want them to or not.

  He’s sucking your bud when you feel the tip of his middle finger flit around the outskirts of your cunt. He can feel your walls clench, trying to suck him in, and he smirks against you at your need.

  But he can’t hold back on you, so he lets it sink in, lets you coat his finger with your wetness, lets you squeeze around him, before he pulls it back out and glides it back in with his ring finger.

  The stimulation is just right. It feels so good with his fingers slowly pumping into you, his mouth sucking and licking your aching nub. You fall back against the sheets, shutting your eyes and dragging the tips of your toes over Hyuntak’s back. Your hand trails down your front, finding his tousled locks, and you twine your fingers into them.

  Hyuntak groans against you, stimulating your clit further. He curls his fingers, digging them deeper into your cunt. He slightly flexes them out when you clench around him, resisting your confines and giving you a larger stretch.

  You’re breathing faster, deeper, just as Hyuntak’s fingers are working into you. You feel heat spread through your face, down into your chest and through your limbs. Your hips roll with the wave of Hyuntak’s hands. There’s a coiling at your core that has you moaning for more.

  Hyuntak feels you rolling your hips harder against him, feels your thighs starting to squeeze the sides of his face, feels you tugging harder at his hair, and he knows he’s drawing you closer to a release. So he plants his fingers in deep and curls them against the spot that has you gushing, whimpering his name over and over, until finally, you twitch, your cunt clenches, fluttering open and shut, and you're a whining mess above him.

  Hyuntak lets his fingers rest in your contracting cunt when he pulls away from your clit. He brings his thumb to gently rub against it, helping you come down from your release.

  Hyuntak is wrecked. His lips are parted, coated with your slick that dribbles down his chin. His hair is messed from your hold, spiking out and flatted against his forehead. His eyes are heavy-lidded, pupils blown wide, draining in how undone you are. 

  Your sweet, swollen lips are parted, deep pants escaping through them and making your breasts heave with each breath. You let go of his hair, dragging your hand up to grip onto the sheets near your head.

  He watches you, and soon becomes aware of his hips bucking against the side of his bed, trying to catch a release of his own.

  He’s so hard it hurts, so wet he’s soaked a small patch of his own through his boxers and into the material of his sweats.

  Hyuntak doesn’t think his body has ever been so desperate for someone. He’s desperate for you, the girl who’s been unintentionally tampering with his breathing, setting his heart ablaze with white fire, making his palms sweat up a sixth ocean for the past few months.

  And now, Hyuntak thinks he finally has you desperate for him, right where he wants you, leaking onto his sheets and moaning his name.

  Hyuntak was the most fortunate idiot in the world.

  “Did so good, baby, you look so pretty right now,” he sighs, licking at the taste of you on his lips. You peek open your eyes and take him in.

  He slowly pulls his fingers out of you with a squelch, leaving you empty and squeezing onto nothing.

  “Wanna taste?” 

  You nod. “Mhm.”

  He brings his fingers to your lips, coats them with your wetness. They part just enough for him to slide them in. You drag your tongue around them, sucking them further into your mouth, and Hyuntak strains to keep his eyes from rolling to the back of his head. He thinks he might cum from watching you, feeling you, so he pulls his fingers back, enduring your suction. 

  They latch off with a pop.

  “Want you inside, Hyune. Fuck me, please,” you’re mumbling.

  Hyuntak was going to combust. Your words grip onto his paining dick, and he’s bounding onto his feet.

  His thumbs slide under the waistband of his boxers, and he pushes them down with his sweats. His cock is springing out, bobbing against his lower stomach, veins pulsing out of his skin. His tip is sticky, glossed over with his precum.

  “I have some condoms, Hu-min gave them to me,” he clarifies with a mutter, hoping you don’t get the idea that he's been anticipating sexual encounters, “I’ll grab one–”

  “No,” you murmur, “Want you bare.”

  Gosh, were you trying to kill him?

  He gapes at you. “Are you– are you sure?”

  You lazily nod, heaving, back still arched. “I cleared my test, and I’m on birth control.”

  He takes a second to process what you said, process the fact that you wanted him bare inside you, then slowly nods, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip. “Okay… okay, I tested negative, too.”

  He mounts himself onto the bed, kneeling before you, fingers rubbing over your knees. You’re slowly breathing, looking up at him with your fucked out eyes.

  “You’re sure, baby?”

  “Yes.”

  And then Hyuntak is caging himself over you, sliding his hand up your thigh and hooking it over his hip.

  “Wrap your legs around me, pretty girl.” You obey him.

  He hoists you closer to his abdomen and shifts you up until your head digs into his pillows. He lowers himself onto his forearms, his fingers looping into your hair, the soft strands that stray over the pillows.

  Your gaze is drowsy, reaching out into his eyes and drawing him in. Hyuntak is reeling his head lower, giving into your spell. His lips feather over your own until he’s pressing them down into a kiss far too innocent for your current arrangement.

  Your legs, wrapped snug over Hyuntak’s hips, drag him down until the length of his cock rubs into your wettening folds and he’s whining into your mouth.

  He pulls back his head. God, he needs to be in you so bad.

  He snakes a hand down to line himself against your hole, rubbing his tip against you, making you writhe your hips for more.

  “Please, Hyuntak,” you whimper, and that’s enough to do him over.

  Hyuntak sinks into you, and you moan in tandem.

  Your walls are so hot, so inviting, hugging around him like you never want him to leave. He’s pushing himself in, feeling each of his inches get sucked in by your confines.

  He looks into your half-open eyes. “Okay?”

  “Mmm, Hyune, feels so good, so full.”

  He breathes out a moan, dropping his head into your shoulder. Your reassurance drives all the scorching blood in his body to the only part of him that’s buried in you.

  Hyuntak slowly pulls himself back out, dragging his veiny rod against your pulsing walls, before he’s sinking himself back into you, filling you full.

  He flattens his hand against your back, curving you into his chest, feeling your tits press into him. Then, he’s grabbing onto your hip so he can really start pounding into you.

  The squelch of your pussy around his pumping cock fills the room, your little gasps and broken whimpers serenade the fibres in his ears. His open mouth rests against the base of your neck, wreaked moans sinking into your warm skin. Your hands are in his already unkempt hair, nails digging into his neck and scraping over his upper back. 

  He’s fucking into you slow, deliberate, letting you feel all his passion, trying to get you to acknowledge the hard times you had given him, or rather, all the times you had gotten him hard. He wasn’t greedy before, but now? Hyuntak believes he has all the right to take you exactly how he wants.

  Make you feel the stretch of his cock in your gushing cunt.

  Make you whimper and whine over the loving manner with which he pumps himself into you.

  He snaps his hips, squeezes onto yours, and grinds his dick deeper into you. His tip grazes your g-spot, and you clench around him, trying to keep him in, trying to make him stay there and rutt into your spot over and over until you’re coming for him all over again. You squeeze your legs around him, attempting to bury him further into you.

  But Hyuntak pulls himself out with a groan, pushing against the hold of your cunt and legs. He bucks himself deep inside you again and pulls out with a fastened pace.

  He’s so hard, so deep, but he’s still so gentle, so raw. His fingers are wreathing through your hair, the pad of his thumb is circling over your hip bone, and he’s mumbling against the supple skin of your neck.

  “Taking me so well, baby, fuck.”

  “Feel that? Feel how hard you made me? It’s all for you, just for you.”

  “Been getting me so hot and hard for months. Gonna fuck it all into you now, m’gonna make you take it.”

  You’re whining at his words, rolling your hips to match his pace.

  The hand on your hip is smoothing over your lower stomach, his palm pressing into it when he pounds into your g-spot again. You’re whimpering at the friction of his tip against your sweet spot, gripping whatever part of him you can get your hands on. Then, he’s sliding his hand down, his fingers pushing your swollen clit out from under its hood, and rubbing down into it.

  The pressure is enough to make you twitch, chasing your second release. Hyuntak is still rutting himself into you when you feel the coil burst in the depths of your abdomen, you cunt finally giving in and clenching down on his cock again and again and again.

  “God, Hyune– nngh.”

  Hyuntak’s hot, heavy eyes are pouring into yours when you come undone for him again. He basks in the moans trailing out of your parted mouth, and when he hears you repeating his name, masked in lewd whines, he feels a coiling of his own brewing deep within him.

  His abs tighten, arms bulge, hands gripping into your hair. His mouth falls open with groans, and he whimpers your name when the tense string finally tightens and snaps. His hips are worn, bucking into you hopelessly, wretchedly, and his deviled cock is draining your spent pussy walls with his hot seed.

  He’s spurting into you, and you're clenching onto him, wrapping your tight walls around him and sucking up each drop he has to offer you.

  He fucks his cum deep into you with one more thrust before his hips slow to a stop inside you. He’s still lazily rubbing over your clit, halting with a chuckle when he feels you squirm from overstimulation.

  You're both panting, noses rubbing softly, and Hyuntak wants to stay like this forever, with his cock stuffing you and your cunt full of his searing cum. But he knows he can’t, and he can feel himself softening, so he delicately starts to pull himself out of you. 

  You let out a low mewl in protest, and Hyuntak answers you with a mellow whine of his own.

  He twists himself to lay on his side next to you. His eyes wash over you, over your hair sprawled in a sea around your head on his pillows, your plush, still swelling pink lips, your eyes, now soft and kind, squinting at him when you smile up at him.

  Hyuntak melts, and knows he’s never seen anything more beautiful. He wants to wrap you up in blankets and kiss you all over your glowing face, but he thinks you’d benefit more from something edible.

  So, he smiles back at you and says, “I made ramen, I promised you, didn’t I?”

  You giggle, your hands reaching for his neck and pulling him down to your lips.

  “Maybe after one more round?” you suggest, mumbling against him, eying him with a playful twinkle.

  Hyuntak thinks he feels his blood mockingly rush back into his cock, and he’s a goner.

  The ramen will just have to wait. Again.

© chanifesto

[primofate]

Confessions Series - Part 2: Description [Genshin Impact Male Characters]

In a nutshell: He asks if you have your eyes set on someone. You start describing HIS features and watch for his reaction. (Hint: He likes you too)

Other works in this series: (Part 1 - Overheard)

Warnings: The usual, haven't written in a while, please forgive mistakes, bit of angst in Diluc (couldn't help it), I am a sleep deprived mother, some profanity, for some reason did not feel like writing Zhongli though he's one of my faves.

Characters: Aether, Albedo, Alhaitham, Ayato, Baizhu, Bennett, Chongyun, Cyno, Dainsleif, Diluc, Gaming, Heizou, Itto, Kaeya, Lyney, Neuvillette, Scaramouche, Tartaglia, Wriothesley, Xiao, gn!reader

Personal Favourites: Diluc, Wriothesley

Aether

"Yeah, I do," you start. "He's very selfless...He's always running around helping other people,"

Aether nods, intense gaze in his eyes while listening.

"Hmm...He has...a partner. Like a companion he always travels with..."

Aether's brows start to furrow and his head tilts the slightest bit. Paimon flying next to him has no clue who it is whatsoever.

"He's not originally from Teyvat...He's on a journey, you see..." this is where you start getting nervous

You see it click in Aether's head slowly, and his eyes start to widen the slightest bit

"Hey, that sounds an awful lot like you, traveller! Why have we never met this person before, Y/N?" Paimon asks and you only smile.

"P-Paimon," Aether glances at her and then back to you. It's silent for a moment. Paimon is super confused.

But Aether being Aether didn't want to get the wrong idea and racks up the courage to ask you one last question. "He's on a journey...to look for his twin sister?"

You smile the brightest smile you've ever given him. "Correct!"

"Ah...Well..." Aether starts to feel the heat on his cheeks. "That's..." he doesn't say anything else for a few seconds. "Don't get me wrong, I'm just...I'm happy!"

Is basically flustered when he realizes you've technically just confessed to him.

Albedo

"Simply put, I think he's dedicated to his craft," You shrug and smile

"...An admirable trait," he responds.

"He's frequently in Dragonspine. He spends a bit of time in his lab there," you decide to just go straight for the obvious.

Albedo pauses. "I...see..." Turns to you with a small smile "I wasn't aware that you were that fond of me,"

"Now you know," you simply say and try to play it off with a wave of your hand.

He chuckles under his breath and strides over to you while saying. "Well then, I suppose it's my turn to talk about the person I've set my eyes on,"

Proceeds to describe you accurately, down to your likes and dislikes. In his eyes, you seem like something so precious and you can't help but feel a bit embarrassed.

Alhaitham

"Hmm... Sort of," you explain. "He's a little...hard to reach,"

Alhaitham "...and you still pursue him?"

You laugh a bit "I'm hardly pursuing him, I'm just...observing. I like watching him, even though he has the most unreadable face I've seen,"

Alhaitham goes quiet for a moment. He catches on fast, he already has an idea but is cautious about what he says. "...I see," he doesn't ask anything else, but you continue to offer information.

"He likes reading. Really smart guy...but kind of no nonsense type. Very straight to the point," You begin to feel a little nervous so you pretend to read your own book with a small shrug.

The silence is deafening.

"I suspect that type of person will be hard to put up with," he suddenly says aloud and you chuckle in response.

"Possibly, but he seems to be putting up with me too...I guess?"

He suddenly closes his book and leans forward to pry the one in your hands away. He locks his gaze with you. "...'Putting up' is hardly the word I would use." his lips twitch the slightest bit before continuing. "He has little to no patience for other people...so if he keeps you around...perhaps it signals something else,"

"Something else...As in, I'm special?"

Again he quiets for a moment, before he stands up, chair scraping the floor. "...Precisely," he turns to start walking out of the library, waving a hand behind him. "I'll pick you up in the morning tomorrow,"

Ayato

"I do, but he's a very busy sort of man,"

Ayato "Is that so?" he pours tea for you.

"Quite. He's also a very important person,"

He hums and watches the billowing steam from the tea. "It sounds as if I might know this person," but he genuinely doesn't know it's him, he just thinks its another noble.

"...You most definitely know him. He has a sister. Lovely girl." This is where you avert your gaze from him in fear of him instantly connecting the dots.

He talks in pauses "A...sister..." His mind is starting to make connections but he can't be quite sure yet. So he prods further. "...Does she happen to have a vision?"

"A cryo vision holder, yes," you're biting the inside of your lip at this point. There's a moment of silence before you hear Ayato laughing rather gleefully, like he was amused by a story.

"I see." he ends with a chuckle. "I apologize for being so busy, Y/N," he smiles at you "I promise I'll do my best to arrange my priorities in order to spend more time with you,"

Baizhu

"He takes his job too seriously and can be quite reckless...Sometimes he even puts himself in danger,"

Changsheng catches on immediately. The snake had already known for a while. Baizhu was just being dense. "Oh here we go," the snake half whines.

Baizhu gives it a weird look before turning his attention back to you. "That does sound reckless,"

"I've told him a couple of times to think about himself too...but I guess he's just really passionate about his job,"

Baizhu sort of shrugs, "What IS his job?"

"...Well for starters he owns a pharmacy around town,"

To Baizhu the realization hits all too slowly. It's not that he was slow or dense, but he was having a hard time believing that it was him you were talking about, specially when you hadn't said it outfront.

"...You do realize I'm the only one who owns a pharmacy around town?" he asks, eyes piercing through you and awaiting your answer.

Changsheng is the one who answers for you. "Yes you ridiculous doctor, Y/N's pertaining to you!"

It's the first time you've seen him blush and he turns his head away when he does so. "I-I see, well...that's rather, unexpected...but not unwelcome,"

Clears his throat "Just give me a moment"

Changsheng would roll its eyes if it could.

Bennett

"Has a lot of energy...Sometimes I wonder where he gets all of it. I really like him for that though."

Deflates as soon as you start talking about your "crush". What kind of answer was he expecting anyway? That you had eyes for him?

"He has a bit of a...problem when it comes to luck," you continue

Bennett stops, you look at him and you can practically see the gears in his head starting to turn a little faster.

"Y-Y/N? Are you talking about..." then the gears suddenly stop. "Oh what am I saying, it can't be. Ahahaha! Let's go!" starts walking again as if nothing happened

Your jaw drops and you're forced to just DIRECTLY tell him you're talking about him.

"...Oh...Oh! F-For real?! Oh...Sorry... I just thought... there's no way! B-But, I'm really glad! Really!"

Chongyun

"Hmm...He's a little shy...but he's very responsible,"

Chongyun stares at you intently and nods as if taking notes.

"He doesn't like spicy stuff,"

Chongyun nods twice, eagerly.

"He's very dedicated in learning about thaumaturgy,"

Chongyun blanks out, brows furrow but still nods. Slowly.

"He's really good with a claymore too!"

Chongyun stops and stares at you, you see a hint of red gracing his cheeks "Y/N...You can't possibly be...talking about... m-m-m-"

Can't seem to say it, so you outright say that it is, in fact, him.

Combusts into a tomato red

Cyno

"How do I say this...He's a pretty strict guy." The two of you are playing Invokation TCG during this convo.

"Mmhmm..." Cyno is focused on his cards, frankly he doesn't give a craps ass who you're into. He didn't even know why he asked, he just dug himself a hole.

"...but he really only takes his work seriously. It's his job to be serious, I guess. I think that's what Matras need to do," he finished his turn and its yours now, though he's still studying his cards intently. Until you get to the Matra part.

"He's a Matra?" You rarely see a surprised face on Cyno so you focus your gaze on him. "Which one?" He further asks. Honestly he looks about to murder someone.

You blank out a bit at how intense his stare was, "Well...You know. That one, the one who's really into Invokation TCG,"

He immediately follows up without missing a beat "I don't know anyone else who's into--" then it clicks.

It was so damn silent for a good 10 seconds. You clear your throat, tear your eyes off him "Um, it's your turn,"

STILL doesn't budge until he finally goes back to his cards with a whisper, you can't really tell but he looks slightly bashful and you can barely, BARELY hear him "...If I win then we go on a date,"

"Okay, and if you lose?"

Cyno "...I'm not gunna lose,"

"See, I told you he's a really serious guy,"

Dainsleif

"I think he's a very dedicated person," you get lost in thought a little, thinking about him. "Whenever I look at him...Sometimes I feel as if there's a certain sadness in him... Perhaps he blames himself for not being able to protect his nation,"

He IMMEDIATELY knows. And he knows that you hurt for him too. How could he not?

"He searches for answers... I don't know for how long, I suppose a long, long time," you close your eyes, imagining how long he must have been wandering Teyvat.

You only open your eyes when you feel a hand brush against yours. He's looking straight at you, neither happy nor sad. "...You don't have to feel that way, for my circumstances,"

The brush against your hand disappears and reappears next to your cheek, his fingers gently resting on it "...Knowing that you feel that way, has taken away some of the burden that I shoulder,"

His gaze suddenly hardens and his voice drops to a whisper, "But please, just don't end up in the same way as everyone else,"

Diluc (I don't know why I end up writing a whole novel for this guy. I guess he's my OG favourite)

You pause for a moment, wondering how to describe Diluc. "...Sometimes... I feel as if I know a lot about him and yet... he's still far off in the distance,"

Diluc, rifling through paperwork, doesn't even look at you. "...That tells me nothing about him," there's a bit of bite in his statement.

You sigh a little, "I mean, simply said he's a hardworking man. He always has Mondstadt's best interests in mind...but he prefers to work alone,"

He's silent, but you can still hear the paper shuffling.

"....but people love him. They care for him. I suppose I understand why he keeps a distance but..." at this point you don't even realize that you're just rambling and staring into space. Sort of in a daze of thinking out loud. "...isn't it lonely? ...I suppose I shouldn't assume how he feels. Maybe he's fine with it...I just wonder how long till he sees us..." there's silence, no ruffle of papers, you're still just staring at the bookshelf and you continue in a monotone voice. "...or sees me,"

You blink, and all of a sudden its as if a magic spell is cast on you and you wake up to the reality that you've been rambling about him. You sit up straight "Oh," then turn to him with a careful smile. You don't think he knows what or who you're talking about anyway. "I better get going," you stand, "Jean must be waiting for me."

You leave, and he doesn't stop you.

You don't really think anything of it, feeling as if your whole monologue was very vague...but to your surprise he knocks at your door in the evening, there's a bit of rain falling.

"Diluc? You're drenche--"

"I see you,"

The determination in his voice lulls you to keep quiet and only stare up at him, wondering if he had more to say, but instead of saying something, he leans in, wrapping his arms around you and resting his forehead on your shoulder, as if he had been defeated.

You only welcome his embrace, and, for the first time in a long time. Diluc finally feels like he's home.

Gaming

"Passion!" You nod your head as you say it. "He knows what he wants to do and is incredibly dedicated to it!"

Gaming looks surprised, has no idea you're talking about him. "Huh! That's really cool!" He thinks he's the total opposite. "Wish I could be as dedicated as him."

You kind of laugh out loud and he raises his eyebrows and tilts his head. "What?"

"Gosh you really sell yourself short," you shake your head "Anyway, this guy, right, he kinda works two jobs," you put out your hand to count one and two "One, for the Secure Transport Agency and two, he's in a Wushou Troupe,"

Gaming instantly straightens his back and looks at you wide-eyed. You figure you had to be direct when it came to him otherwise he'd never get it with how modest he was.

"...You're...talking about...me?" You smile at him sympathetically.

"You know, Gaming, I wish you saw yourself the way others saw you. You're a great person,"

Big smile, but legit looks like he's about to cry. "Between the two of us? I think you're greater Y/N,"

Heizou

"...Honestly he's kind of a flirt," you raise your eyebrows at the fact and kind of question yourself why you like this kind of person. "Makes me wonder if he does that to everyone, you know?"

Heizou hums and puts his hand under his chin in a "thinking position"

"That's not enough evidence to go by. Perhaps we can investigate this guy together to see if he's worthy,"

You look at him, pursing your lips while musing and giving him a suspicious look. You're not sure if he's figured it out.

He's got no idea. I mean, it was a pretty general description. "Any distinguishing features?" he asks.

You look at him in a deadpan manner. "Red hair, I guess. And moles under his eyes,"

He looks back at you with a matching blank face.

Then breaks into a wide, close eyed grin. "I see! From experience, that person is truly trustworthy,"

You sigh a little, "Is he though?"

He chuckles heartily. "I promise you he is," offers you his hand with a genuine smile. "Let me show you,"

Itto

"Ummm... big, tall, strong looking guy. Intimidating at first look but he's actually a dork," you explain.

Itto crosses his arms above his chest with an unamused face. "Tch! No way! Ain't no one taller than me in Inazuma!" Then he looks smug again. "Anyway, keep goin'. What else?" Only asked you because he wants to see what your "type" is.

"...Popular? Nah... Infamous is the word, I think. He kinda gets into a lot of trouble,"

Itto raises a brow "You serious? Whaddyou want with someone like that?" as if he wasn't a troublemaker himself.

"I mean... He also loves life and somehow always sees the good side of things."

Itto "Eh... guess that's a good thing..." folds his arms behind his head and huffs.

This guy is never gunna get it so you drop more obvious hints. "He's an oni who has his own gang."

For a split second he looked like he was going to get it, and then... "WHAT?! There's another oni who wants to challenge the Arataki Gang?"

"That's not what I--"

punches his fist onto his palm "Lead the way Y/N, let me at 'em!"

"I'm talking about you!"

"Huh?"

"Itto, there's no other oni around town!" leave it to him to make you exasperated.

He quiets for a few seconds. "...But Y/N..."

You expectantly stare at him, curious what he was going to say about your confession.

"...Did you just call me a dork?"

Of course that's what he picks up on.

When he finally processes it though, he's stoked and on an all time high.

Kaeya

"...good at talking to people, and he knows it... Exudes charisma like he breathes air," You're saying this with a glare.

He chuckles and rests his head on his fist. "Why, pray tell, do you look angry when saying that?"

"Not angry..." you mumble under your breath, eyes trailing away from him. "Just... probably a lot of people like him,"

"And you don't like that?" He smirks. He totally knows.

"...No...Well...I'm okay with it... It's just... I think he's so much more than what he shows to others,"

That, he wasn't expecting. He actually feels genuinely touched.

"Sure he jokes around a lot...Is good at making people feel comfortable...but he's also kind...and you can always count on him," there's a faraway gaze in your eyes now, a small smile on your face. "To me, he's...a safe space."

Kaeya's smile drops. It looks like he's unhappy and you think that maybe you've made a mistake. Still...there's no way he knows that it's him, right? It was kinda vague...

You're about to stand and excuse yourself but he catches your wrist easily. "...You know..." he starts, meeting you eye to eye. He looks at you as if he's looking into your soul, his eyes the gentlest you've seen them.

"You make it so hard, not to fall deeper in love with you,"

Lyney (I have no idea how this ended up so dramatic)

"He isn't exactly a trickster...but he has a lot of tricks up his sleeve,"

Lyney "Oh?" Raises an eyebrow. Something kind of clicks in him, but he shakes it off. "The good kind or the bad kind?"

You stall a little, thinking of the answer, knowing that he's Fatui. "The...good...kind,"

"You don't sound very sure," he gives you a lopsided smile.

"It's complicated," you admit. "Regardless of the circumstances though, I think he's a great magician,"

You watch his face turn into surprise quite quickly, but he still looks and feels unsure of himself. "Oh, perhaps...I can learn a thing or two from him?"

Your smile turns forced and hard. He can't be serious? He STILL doesn't know, or...what?

"I...Well..." You don't know what to say next, but he seems to get the idea.

"Sorry, have I put you in a hard place? Ahaha..." Scratches the back of his head. "My apologies, I was just curious,"

This, for some reason, really puts you off and you feel as if you've been rejected, even though you technically had not outright told him that you're talking about him.

It seems silly for you to get upset, but you are. So you stand, and make a request of him. "Can we... just pretend this conversation didn't happen?" and you give him some sort of excuse that you need to run an errand or something, and you're off, leaving him feeling...guilty. But he doesn't know why. Or does he?

Lyney would look like the type of person who would be confident about himself. But, really, as a magician, he had to be 1000% sure about something before he went ahead with it, and so...that's where his doubt stemmed from.

Lynnette is really the one who knocks some sense into him. "...and you...let Y/N leave?" after hearing the story from him.

"Oh, Lyney... Regardless of what Y/N feels... For you, next to Freminet and I, is there someone else that you love dearly?"

That's how he ends up at your doorstep. Though you've seen his disappearing rose trick hundreds of times, he was the most sincere at that moment, when he says sorry that he didn't get the hint and to give him a chance.

Neuvillette

"Serious person. He seems to put his work first, above all else," you say. "I respect him a lot for that,"

Neuvillette is interested in what you say, but doesn't know at all that it's him. "He does sound quite respectable," he says while looking through some files.

"A long time ago he said that he feels like he's an outsider...but really I feel like there isn't anyone who knows Fontaine the way that he does,"

Neuvillette, moves the file he was reading downwards, just to look at you questioningly. "He's from Fontaine?" this was surprising to him.

"Well...he currently resides in Fontaine, yes," you nod.

"Ah," he answered curtly. "And I have never met him?" he asks.

"...He's very busy." you bite your lip, about to say something and you know that the next sentence is the point of no return. "He's the Iudex...so it's hard to catch him,"

You swear you can hear your heart hammering in your chest.

You see him put his files down and just stare at you with a sort of...unsure look.

His shoulders relax, he wasn't even aware he had been tense that whole time. "That... must have taken a lot of consideration and courage to say," he clears his throat.

You only nod your head slowly, moving your gaze away from him with an awkward smile. Hand absentmindedly grabbing a book and flipping through the pages...you had no idea what you were doing out of nervousness.

"I apologize...I'm unfamiliar with what to do in these kinds of situations... However," he pauses and seems to think carefully about what he was going to say next. "Please don't take it as a rejection. I'd be honored to navigate this with you, if you would so graciously have me,"

Scaramouche

"He's an asshole," you bite back a laugh.

He instantly knows.

"Actually he acts all tough only to give in to his inner-kind-of-agreeable-personality,"

He snorts

"What? Am I wrong?" you challenge him. You KNOW that he knows. The two of you have been hovering around each other for a while, and there's a certain closeness between the two of you. Though that line was never crossed.

He doesn't answer you back but prods you more. "Is that all? You like that he's an asshole? Are you some type of masochist?"

You almost laugh. "No, you moron. I'm saying he has a weird way of showing he cares. He's always biting my head about not being careful enough. But if he really didn't care he wouldn't be screaming at me, you know what I mean?"

Scaramouche grumbles something under his breath and crosses his arms, turning away from you.

"Say that again?" You ask, not hearing what he said.

"...I said, you're not as stupid as I thought you were," shrugs his concealed embarrassment off and turns back to you all nonchalant again. "Anyway, stop yapping and get going, we got things to do,"

Snatches your hand and starts pulling you to walk with him.

Tartaglia (I feel like this is ridiculously short but I also feel like Tartaglia would have known a LONG time ago if the two of you had the feels for each other)

"Oh man...Probably the most reckless man I know,"

Also knows. Instantly. But shuts his mouth just so he can listen to you talk about him, but it gets deep real quick.

"In my opinion he's a handsome guy. Real charming," you smirk the tiniest bit. "but I don't know if I can keep up with him, honestly. It's a little hard not knowing when he's going to come back...or if he's even gunna come back at all,"

You weren't going to hide the fact that you were scared shitless he didn't return from Fontaine for ages. You legitimately thought he had died.

Tartaglia stops you there, by suddenly cradling your cheek. "Y/N," he's wearing a pained expression. "I'm sorry,"

"Don't be, it's your job, right?" You reassure him, and shrug.

He sighs "Yes, but I'll promise this to you as I've promised my family," he smiles, the most confident smile you've seen on him. Even more confident than when he wields his blades. "I'll come back to you, I always will,"

Wriothesley

"Er... How do I say this... He kind of has some... big boss energy?"

"Oh?" he sips at his tea, glancing at you while he looks at today's paper. "So he's a bigshot?" he asks curiously.

"Somewhat, yes. Intimidating at first look, but...he just has a great sense of responsibility," you pick at the selection of cakes and cookies he has.

"Huh," he lets out in a quick huff. In the deepest, DEEPEST parts of his mind there is a NANOSECOND that he thinks its him but it gets erased so quickly he's not even sure that he had thought about it.

"Sounds like a good person... Any interesting, weird quirks?" he grins as he says this, yet again glancing at your expression.

Your lips tremble a bit at what you're about to say, because you're SURE he was going to get it once you say it. You gulp and feel the hairs at the back of your neck stand before you say out loud "He likes tea. I kind of wonder if it's an addiction," you can't meet his eyes.

He's looking at the paper he's reading but nothing.registers.in.his.brain.its.like.it.stopped.working.

You shift in the uncomfortable silence but he calmly folds up the newspaper and places it on his table. "...I'm inclined to ask, because it would be embarrassing if I got the wrong idea,"

"Mmhmm," you pop a cookie in your mouth to distract yourself.

"By any chance, are you...talking about me?"

"Mm," you nod your head, still not looking at him and glue your eyes on the cookies instead, out of embarrassment.

Suddenly chuckles. You brave a peek at him, now covering his eyes with a single hand, head tipped back to rest on his chair.

You're not sure if that's a good or bad thing.

"Sorry, no, it's just... I didn't think it would happen this way." Visibly takes in a big breath and sighs it out slowly. Seems to have regained his composure and is back to his confident self, smiling at you. "Thanks Y/N, I... don't think it's much of a secret that I enjoy your company too. I'm just a little embarrassed that you beat me to it...some big boss energy huh?"

Xiao

"...He takes on everything by himself. I worry about him," You look at the stars as you say this. Xiao doesn't say anything.

"But I'm glad that he's opening up a lot more now. It's great to see him among friends,"

Xiao has a feeling at this point, that its him you're talking about, but he still doesn't say anything and keeps his gaze in front of him rather than on you.

"Yes, the road in front of him is long but...he's also already come a long way," you sigh a little "The time of Rex Lapis has long gone, but he still sticks to his principles. I think his dedication is part of what I like about him,"

This is when he turns to you, blank look on his face, contemplating on what to do. When you turn to meet his gaze, its then that he decides to bridge the gap between the two of you, shoulder to shoulder, leaning in sideways to catch your lips in a chaste and rather shy kiss.

"You should give a bit of credit to yourself, for putting up with me all these years, Y/N,"

End!

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[bnyf]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ#1 crush ♡

╭﹕୨୧﹒yandere male elf x female human reader ♡

┊ warnings : yandere content and themes, unhealthy behaviors, relationship and relationship dynamic, sexual content, noncon, kidnapping, size difference, strange dynamic.

╰﹕୨୧﹒authoress note : after receiving some unwanted but much needed criticism i've tried my hand at writing a little better and fixing errors. i apologize in advance if there's any errors or gaps in my writing, i also apologize for the messed up story that this is. ik some people don't like the way i write the reader but like??? idgaf sorry anyways other than that, i hope you guys enjoy, please read the warnings and proceed with caution <3 i would also like to say that this post is kinda inspired by a very popular yandere artist on here with a male elf oc

what a treacherous fate had befallen on a vitreous soul such as yourself.

it truly is unfortunate, you're so unlucky. how could your luck have run so low? to think, this everyday mundane routine would now be your nightmarish reality was stomach wrenching. you never did anything to deserve this, this was simply some sort of faulty by the gods, right? there's no way this is your horrible ending. no way.

you sobbed and yet... he hummed and chastised you by smacking your puffy clitorous.

it's always like this, it's been like this for...? a while now apparently. you've completely lost track of time. maybe a month or so if you're playing the guessing game.

well, if it wasn't obvious already, you've been taken hostage by an insane elven prince. probably the most insanely angelic, good-looking, prettiest and sick minded male you've ever met.

he really needs professional help. something that he can more than afford considering his house is almost made of gold, his herculean physique adored and draped only with the most expensive clothes, jewels, silks, soaps and scented creams and perfumes. his perfume, so extravagant, worth more than your vital organs all put together. that was the part you admired about elven people, they are so intelligent, so ahead of humans.

but to him? therapy is cheap and free! you're the first ever human he's laid eyes on and that's all he really needs. and really, you're the one to blame for his actions. it's all you. so you should take responsibility, right?

he's sought out humans before, trying to break the barrier between the two worlds and connect with them. he was damn near obsessed with coming into contact with the human realm and ruling over them like a god despite the fact that any sort of magic that threatens to break the barrier and connect the realms or offer passage through the two realms is absolutely forbidden. this is such a serious offense that if caught violating, can lead to public execution.

but your little caregiver did not! give one flying hoot at all, nor did the rules really even apply to royals as the royals participated in a lot of magical corruption and kept it all on the low.

so what a surprise! not really that he'd succeed in his conquest. not entirely since he'd only manage to bring one human to the elven realm, but now he knows for sure he's making great progress. and not only succeed in getting a nitty gritty palms on any human, but such a cute little human female like yourself.

humans are a lot more fragile, smaller, weaker, lesser intelligent beings, almost like a sub species from elves. so that's why you must be taken care of with so much extra love and attentiveness. all this was his reasoning for treating you like a minor being, enabling you and excuses for his weird kinks.

there was no way you'd ever dream of over powering him, not when a large veiny arm wrapped so tightly around your wrists, holding it behind your back, and the other with it's slender long digits effortlessly reaching your g spot.

it was 'bath time' or whatever, which called for a thorough inspection and cleanse. or just another excuse to use your body to his likings.

his tongue lap at your folds and clit, moaning in delight and relishing in all your juices spraying him. his voice muffled by your pussy, making wet sounds as he attempts to praise your gorgeous body: all of which sounds like incohesive unhinged, obsessive rambling of course.

if you ignore this scene and focus on other small things around you maybe you can, somewhat imagine yourself having a luxurious warm bath in the tub, with flowers and scented stuff in the water, scented candles creating a relaxing atmosphere, marvelous one-sided glass view... maybe not the one-sided glass view that's actually a little too scary to think about but yeah, you're having a nice little bath.

the most relaxing bath in the most prettiest and pearliest tiled bathroom you've ever been in.

your insides contorts though and you find yourself coming again undone on those perfectly manicured fingers of his, messing up his perfect face with your essence. your voice is loud and echoes throughout the bathroom, all the way into the bedroom and closet but never enough to each anyone's ears as he's casted multiple protective barrier spells to keep your presence unknown from other elven people. you've came like 5 times already and he won't let you rest, getting high off your pussy juices.

"poor baby, you look so tired, shhh don't worry~ mama will take care of everything, just relax and be good for me, okay? it'll all be over soon, my darling ^ mama will get you all cleaned up and dressed, right after this..." you wish you had the energy to welp out an 'ewwwwww da fuck?!' right about now but you were so weak and constantly sedated. you felt helpless as his bulbous tip hits your pussy, rubbing it back and forth to coat and lubricate himself with your juices. he leisurely teases, making your hole spasm and grasp around nothing, your body reacting in a lovely manner to his advances.

he licks his lips, only putting the tip in before quickly pulling back out. taking his time cause he wants to drive you insane like him. and luckily for him, his mind games always work so well.

his precum leaking and smearing you in the process as he rubs his whole length, measuring your pelvic area with his cock length and soon putting it in to see how far it'll actually go.

you almost blacked out. even though he prepped you well for this it still stings, he's just too big. and you? way too tight, squeezing him like you want every last drop of his seed, has him shivering and grunting in the process.

"fck- you're so tight, baby ngh~"

has him seeing stars and by the time he's balls deep in you and hitting the tip of your womb, you're a drooling and moaning mess. can't even control his obsessive thoughts from spilling out his mouth, he immediately gets to work on those hips too like a wild animal, only sparing a few seconds to sloppily kiss you and slap your thick behind.

it only takes a few minutes before he breaks his load inside you and shifts you into another position, manhandling you and roughing you up like a meat toilet, all for his own enjoyment and pleasure.

his long silky hair tickling your skin. when you think about it, he's so masculine with many feminine traits too, like the perfect balance actually and it is to be expected from an elf. he always wants to be in control, always wants to take care of you like a god watching over his creation. it sorta overlaps with him calling himself your mama but it makes sense in a way. he doesn't see himself as a woman in any sort of way, he just wants unrestricted authority over you.

your tears stream down your cheeks which he licks away and kisses, it only hurts your head trying to rationalize this or even understand it, your vision goes all blurry and for the next few rounds, your in and out of consciousness while being filled.

when you're awake again, you're draped in silk half naked and powdered up, you feel your caretakers strong arms wrapped around you, spooning you as rubs circles into your skin. he's also half naked with nothing but a cloth draped around himself. you both lay on a soft layered bed with many squishy pillows and blankies. fruits, steam veggies and grilled meat laid out on a silver tray for you to enjoy, though your stomach was filled with his cum.

[sweetinsaniiity]

can you write something for soft turned hard dom san? i don't have a full idea yet but he asks reader if he'll let her do whatever he wants to her and when she responds yes he says aww thank you baby and then proceeds to ruin her

I'm very, very picky when fulfilling requests, but this one caught my eye immediately. You should be very proud of yourself, sweetheart.

Plug In, Baby

genre/au: soft!Sannie, he's too soft tbh, very respectful (we love a man who respects boundaries), established relationship, falling in love rating/warning: PG-18+ so MDNI!!! (you know how it is), this is pure smut without any sort of plot or whatnot, really just pure filth with a side of creampie, scratching, degradation, dacryphilia, bruises, biting, dom!San, no protection (do NOT do this!) word count: 8.2K words (genuinely enjoyed writing this)

Today marked three months of being with San and you were getting ready for the special dinner he said he'd take you. You already felt giddy thinking about it as you paced in front of the mirror to check your outfit. You met San through a mutual friend of yours, Wooyoung, and the connection was undeniable. You two formed a relationship within the week, and the first time he held your hand, you didn't even notice. He was so hesitant, so careful.

In fact, he still is. Granted, you two weren't together for long, still learning each other day by day, but sometimes, San was a little too careful for your liking. Like right now.

"My goodness, you scared me," you giggled, savouring the way San's arms wrapped at you from behind.

He smiled tenderly at you, giving you a quick kiss on your temple. You couldn't but frown slightly when the hug didn't last. "You look beautiful, baby," he murmured. "How did I get so lucky?" You hummed, tilting your head when he leaned in, kissing you softly on the lips, that air of hesitancy still there like this was the first time you had kissed. He treated you like fine glass, but that was fine. You heard him yelp behind his throat when you licked his lips open.

"O-Oh, uhm, wow," he pulled away, blushing beet red from his neck all the way up to the tips of his ears.

"What, you didn't like it?" You teased.

His eyes widened comically. "N-No! I mean, I d-did," San stammered.

You laughed out loud at his predicament. Cute, you thought. Every time you smiled at him, he looked away, cheeks pink, like he wasn’t sure how to handle the attention. All San could do was stare at you as your laughter filled the air, smiling as well.

He loved you a lot, though he hasn't said it before. He just gets extremely nervous around you. You might give him a heart attack one day, that's how much he feels about you.

And it wasn't like you didn't know this. San was naturally shy and meek, something you found extremely endearing on him.

"You sure you don't regret being with me yet?" San mumbled, refusing to look at you, pretending to fix his collar as he cleared his throat.

You frowned, confused. "Now, why would you say that?"

San sighed. "Baby, I don't know if you noticed, but you're way out of my league. I'm still surprised to this day when you said you liked me back. I probably had a mini attack."

It was always like this, and so, you reassured your boyfriend once more that he was fine the way he was, that you genuinely liked him for him despite his reservations about himself. You would never get tired of doing it because you were telling the truth.

He made another small, flustered noise, but this time, after a moment of hesitation, he did something that made your heart stutter.

He leaned in—just slightly, just enough for his shoulder to press against yours. And even if he didn’t say anything, you knew what it meant.

“Uhm,” he cleared his throat again. “Can I ask you something?”

“You know you can, Sannie,” you smiled, tilting your head curiously at him.

He opened his mouth, then shut it again, visibly struggling. His nervous energy was practically vibrating off him. You bit your lip to stop yourself from smiling widely at how cute your boyfriend was.

You smiled softly. “Hey,” you murmured, lifting your free hand to tuck a stray lock of hair behind his ear. He practically melted at the touch, eyes fluttering shut for half a second. “Take your time.”

He nodded quickly, swallowing hard, before finally forcing the words out.

“Do you...wanna do it tonight?”

Oh, God. He was so painfully endearing.

“You really want to?” You asked gently, running your thumbs over the heat of his cheeks.

His breath hitched, and after a long moment of hesitation, he nodded. “Y-Yeah,” he whispered, voice barely there. “Sorry, baby. I just want to make sure. You know I love the way your body feels with mine.”

It was your turn to blush. “Me too. I want everything with you...”

You were pretty sure you were falling slowly for this man, if you haven't yet. You had never met a man who was such a gentleman, someone who respected you and your boundaries but never failed to make you happy. You just hoped you made San happy, too.

Sex with him was what you'd describe as making love. Slow, soft love making. It was filled with gentle touches and passionate, deep, long kisses that always set your insides on fire. San had the body of a Greek god and it always fascinated you that he was just a sweetheart.

Everything about him was soft, and you loved it.

As you both walked in the restaurant towards the entrance, the way he opened the car door for you and the way he offered his arms for you to link with his made your heart flutter. "I'll give you a good time, yeah?" San smiled.

"I believe it," you giggled.

He shook his head at you with a small chuckle, like he couldn't believe you were real to begin with.

He directed his smile at the receptionist ahead, albeit more respectful and polite this time. "Hi," he began, keeping his voice quiet like he didn’t want to impose. "Reservation for Choi San, please?"

True to his words, he took you to a really nice place, a seaside nighttime restaurant. You were a bit surprised, you mentioned in passing a couple of weeks back while all your mutual friends were over that you've never been to one and you would love to experience it at least once in your life.

"Wow," you grinned, leaning on the railing that overlooked the sunset that reflected over the sea. "Sannie, this place is gorgeous."

He leaned towards the railing as well, a small smile plastered on his face as he stared at your face. "Yeah," he said, not looking away. "Gorgeous."

The way he snaked his arms around you as he guided you to your seat was gentle, like he was always second-guessing himself. The way he moved, careful and deliberate, never the type to rush. These were the things that made you want to be with him, you just hoped San understood that.

You gave the waiter a small 'thank you' as they walked away after handing you your dinner. The night went on better than you imagined, not that you doubted it in the first place. Anywhere with San was a guaranteed enjoyment for you, not because of where he would bring you, definitely not because of what he can offer you, but because you wanted to spend time with San.

You couldn't help but stare at him from across the table as he peacefully ate his food. You wanted to shake your head, how could this man think that he was out of your league? He had poise and grace that you didn't have, and he was genuinely the kindest man you've ever been with.

Your cheeks reddened when his eyes fleeted up and met yours. "You're staring, baby," he smirked, not breaking eye contact as he put the fork in his mouth and chewed on his steak slowly.

You bit your lip subconsciously. It doesn't escape San's attention. Something passes in his eyes that you couldn't really read before it goes away. As shy as San can be, sometimes he didn't know how deadly he could act. What makes it worse is that you know that he's not doing it on purpose.

You chuckled, then winked. "Am I not allowed to stare at my boyfriend?"

That seemed to bring him down to Earth and you can physically see his mind short-circuit. Without thinking, you held his delicate hands to press a quick kiss to his knuckles.

You could swear that you could feel the heat radiating off his face. He made a tiny, helpless sound - something between a squeak and a whimper - then hid his face in his sleeve.

“Baby,” San whined, grabbing onto your hand and caressing his thumb over it despite his flustered state. “Y-You can’t just do that.”

“Do you want me to do it again?” You teased, watching his ears turn an even deeper shade of red.

He pouted, and it took you everything not to combust where you were seated, nodding his head slightly before looking around hesitantly. "Here?"

You shrugged, grinning widely at him while you got up from your seat to lean across the table and give San a sweet peck on the tip of the nose. When you sat back down, he blinked owlishly at you as his mouth opened and closed repeatedly. His face was effectively the reddest you've ever seen.

Oh my God, you thought. Did you finally break your boyfriend?

Dinner ended without any hijinks. He got up before you and shyly offered his hand. "Walk with me, precious?" San smiled, his dimples convincing you like you ever even needed it. "The night is young. I wanted to spend more time with you before I take you home."

San and you lived separately. It was too soon to live together for the both of you, but as you walked side by side by the sea shore, maybe you could bring it up to him. You liked him enough to do so.

The moonlight illuminated his facial features as he stared on. San was beautiful, that you couldn't deny, but he wasn't the only shy one. Sometimes, you wish you could just tell him how much he meant to you.

Then, just as you were about to say something, you felt the lightest touch against your hands. When you glanced at San, he still wasn't looking at you, but you couldn't miss the nervousness in his gait.

His head was tilted down, hair falling over his eyes, as if he was bracing himself for rejection before he’d even really tried. Your heart clenched.

Slowly, carefully, you turned your palm outward, offering an unspoken invitation. "Baby," you whispered. "I appreciate you being careful with me since we're both basically new to this relationship, but I'd like it if you can hold my hand whenever you want next time."

His fingers curled around yours, and you smiled, giving his warm hand the smallest squeeze. “Okay,” his voice was barely above a whisper.

A beat of silence. Then, slowly, so slowly, his grip tightened, just a little. His face was still turned away, but you could see the way he pressed his lips together like he was trying to fight back a smile.

God, he was cute.

And somehow, the simple weight of his hand in yours felt more important than anything else in the world.

The drive home was tense, though. At least, on your end. San wanted to have sex with you the moment you stepped inside your house. You pressed your thighs together in an attempt to soothe the burning arousal that crept up your wettened core.

It was definitely an unspoken spark, the anticipation of what you both knew was going to happen later. The tension was delicious, and you couldn't wait.

"Did you want to stay the night?" You asked, trying to break the sparked silence in the car.

He hummed, it was deep and it vibrated down to your core, not responding with words. He side-eyed you once, one hand leaning against the car window, covering his mouth while his other hand held the steering wheel, before he turned back to the road.

It would have been odd behaviour from him if it didn't turn you on.

It didn't really escape your attention at how rigid San sat. You could see the way his chest rose and fell too quickly, his breath uneven. He looked like he was currently struggling to hold back as his Adam's apple bobbed up and down every single time he swallowed.

He gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, jaw tense as his eyes flicked to you again. "Did you want me to stay the night?" San exhaled, the sound low, controlled.

Oh?

That was interesting. You turned your head to the side, opting to stare at the window so San couldn't see the pleased expression on your face. He was a lot more turned on than you thought he was. You preened, happy that you had this effect on him.

By the time we pulled into your apartment, he was practically out of breath as he turned off the engine. When you looked at you, you wanted nothing but to jump at him, barely holding yourself back.

You smirked, reaching for his hand, letting your fingers lace through his, slow and deliberate. Teasing him was your favourite thing to do, you loved seeing his reactions. “Everything okay?" You asked innocently.

He nodded quickly. “Y-Yeah,” his voice cracked.

You smiled, tilting your head. "Shall we go inside?"

His lips parted slightly like he was about to talk, his fingers twitched against his thigh like he was debating something. You smirked when he wordlessly got out of the car and started walking inside your apartment, his hand subtly adjusting his pants. Oh, you were going to have fun teasing him.

But you frowned, confused, when San didn't make a move on you like you thought he would when you both walked in. Instead, he stared at you, shifting his weight from foot to foot, before he walked to your room to presumably change his clothes.

"San, wait," you stopped him, your heart beating fast, as you walked towards him slowly.

He freezes in his steps, looking back at you with vulnerable eyes. You stepped closer, using your free hand to cup his cheek, tilting his face.

“We don't have to do anything tonight,” you said softly. “I know you’re nervous. We don’t have to do anything tonight. Just being with you is enough. We have all the time in the world.”

And you meant it. Your heart broke when his eyes shone with sadness. He turned his head to kiss your palms. "I'm sorry, baby. I don't know why I'm like this."

You giggled, opting to pinch his cheeks, much to his chagrin, to break the tension and change the scenario. "Let's watch a movie. You can pick."

His eyes lightened up significantly. If there was something better than the sex you thought would happen tonight, it was cuddles with San. Your fluffy boyfriend was the perfect cuddle material, his arms always felt perfect whenever they would wrap around you.

"Comfy?" he murmured, said arms tightening their hold on you as you both curled up on your bed with the laptop placed in front of you.

Your smiled, eyes still on the screen. "Mhm. You’re warm."

San chuckled, pressing a light kiss to the top of your head. "Human heater, at your service."

The movie was good, but the warmth of San’s arms, the way his heartbeat was a steady rhythm, made it all the better. Yeah, you could stay like this forever.

However, you couldn't concentrate on the movie. Occasionally, San would shift, pressing his body against yours, his body heat transferring to you. His head leaned down, and at first, you thought that he was just going to lean on your shoulders.

Imagine your surprise when he pressed a hot kiss to the crook of your neck. He pulled away like nothing happened. You froze, not thinking anything of it. San loved skinship, this was nothing new to him.

But when his fingers started tracing slow, absentminded circles against your bare shoulders, shivers traveled down your spine. The first time, you passed it as a passing thought on his end. The second, you started to doubt it, but by the third, you couldn't help but surrender to his little touches.

You swallowed audibly when his nimble fingers held the thin strap of your top, lifting it slightly before letting go and letting it snap against your skin. You couldn't move, not even bothering to concentrate on the movie. Certainly not bothering to turn around to look at his face. For all you know, he could just be fidgeting like he always did when he was nervous.

It was difficult to even breathe. You held back a squeak when San snaked his arm around your waist, slightly lifting your top up, his fingers barely brushing against your bare skin as if he had all the time in the world to explore you.

You sucked in a breath, but he didn’t stop. His fingertips trailed along the dip of your waist, tracing the curve with agonizing patience. It was your turn to be nervous now. This has never happened before.

"You okay, baby?" San's husky voice asked from behind you. He sounded strained, though you knew that he knew what he was doing.

You swallowed, but before you could answer, his other hand moved, but this time, it landed on your thigh. He squeezed ever so slightly while his thumb brushed slow, hypnotic circles against your waist, slipping a little higher with each pass.

His fingers pinch a part of your skin that you didn't even know was sensitive and you jerked, your thighs subconsciously spreading wider. Your cheeks burned for two reasons - the position was almost lewd, and San's low groan sent wetness pooling down there.

"Tilt your head up, baby," he commanded softly. There was no hesitation on your end. "Hmm. A little bit sideways---good."

A small, breathy moan escapes from your lips when his lips automatically latch on your neck, barely just touching you, but enough for you to feel everything, especially when he nipped your teeth before sucking the sensitive skin.

"Sannie," you whined, your eyes fluttering close.

"Shh," his voice was deeper now, rougher. His grip tightened on your waist, pulling you flush against him.

The desire was slowly clouding your mind, though at the back of your mind, you were thoroughly confused at what was currently happening. Not that you were complaining - your body did all the work for you. And so did San's lips.

You mewled when you felt him smile against your skin as his hand started to lift your shirt a bit above your tummy. To say you were surprised would be an understatement, the San you knew would be too shy to even make a move. It was one of his best qualities and you can't help but fall for him for it.

But this? You didn't even know what to do.

Your hand moves by itself, placing it on top of San's hand that was making abstract shapes on your tummy while he gives your neck little kitten kisses.

"You’re so soft," he murmured, lifting your leg slightly to shift you closer.

"S-San, what are you d-doing," your breathy voice couldn't even properly formulate a question.

His movements slow down, but not completely stop. He lifted his lips from your neck, and you had to stop the urge to pout at the sudden loss of contact. You let out a little gasp when you looked at him - his eyes were so dark, that the intensity of it had you reeling.

This wasn't the San you, but you'd be damned if you didn't admit to yourself that you didn't mind knowing who this was.

His grip on your waist tightened, his thumb pressing firmly into your skin as he studied you, his breathing heavy, controlled, but barely.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he murmured, voice rough, almost strained.

It sent a shiver down your spine, an ache pooling low in your stomach. "And what exactly do I do to you?"

For a second, a hint of hesitation flashes into his eyes, but when you darted your tongue slowly across your lips, it disappears entirely. You could tell that he was still nervous, that he was testing the waters here to see how far he'd go and how far you'd let him.

You held your breath when he gently held your shoulders to guide you down your couch, effectively splaying your body for him to crawl on top of. He tenderly tucks the strays hairs that made their way in front of your face, ignoring the way your eyes slightly widened and the way your mouth opened to say something, though no words ever did come out.

For a moment, all you did was stare at each other. If only San knew how nervous you were. Initiation was lost on San most of the time, if not all the time, so this was new - a totally uncharted territory.

"You look so pretty, baby," he whispered, eyes raking all over your form, rounded with such innocence that you couldn't help but sputter at the unexpected statement.

"Uh, thank you?" You questioned rather than answered.

He giggled, and your heart almost burst out of your chest. It was the type where his eyes disappeared as they crinkled upwards, where his dimples deepened impossibly so. Truly, you knew you were drowning then and there.

"You want this, right?" San leaned down, his face mere inches away from yours, his huge arms trapping your head in between. "Would you let me do what I want to you if I asked?"

"Y-Yeah," you stammered.

Your head grew weary with dizzy. A subtle nod from you was enough for his lips to twitch with anticipation. San's brow quirked upwards.

"Anything?"

Between you and San, you would consider yourself to be the more outgoing one; the type who was always sure of themself, the one who would usually take the lead because you had no problem getting the things you wanted for yourself.

So, why were you getting wet at the prospect of San just taking whatever the hell he wanted from you?

This was your sweet, sweet Sannie. It would be criminal of you to deny him anything. When you nodded again, your heart fluttered dangerously when those dimples of his showed up again.

"Aww," he cooed, leaning down to kiss your temple. "Thank you, baby."

Your brows furrowed a bit. The way he said it, it settled heavily down your stomach. You couldn't help the sharp hiss that escaped your mouth when you realized how mocking it sounded.

It was too late, though. San leaned away, his wide, dark eyes were hazy with something you couldn’t quite place - not just nervousness, but something darker. You knew you were in for a wild ride when he yanked your hair, almost painfully, upwards to crash your lips onto his.

Your stifled moans get swallowed by San's rough claim on your lips, his primal growls echoing your arousal. The kiss was no less than filthy, the wet sounds of lips smacking with each other were all you could hear in the wide expanse of your living room.

You've never felt like this before. There was fire coiling in your tummy at San's roughness. You had half the mind to wonder where your sweet San went, but if you were being honest with yourself, this was a long time coming, anyway.

And as if he read your mind, he leaned away, an evil smirk plastered on his face as he pressed your swollen lips with his thumb while his other hand tightened its hold on your hair, the pain making you groan lewdly. "S-San---"

"I'm going to ruin you," he said flatly, something borderline demonic passing through his face as he spoke further. "All you have to do is say yes, darling."

Darling. That was new. Shivers made their way up your spine, and San had the gall to chuckle darkly when he felt the way you spasmed in his hold. "Y-Yes," you whined.

You were fully shaking at this point, resembling a wet, trembling kitten in front of a waiting predator. And that San was - a predator. A ravening grin slowly stretches his mouth. It honestly terrifies you, you've never seen such expression on him.

Shame creeps all over you - you were a hypocrite because you were getting so turned on from how different San was acting. You weren't privy to all the times you did imagine how it would be like if San snapped one day and just manhandled you. Not that you didn't like your lovemaking session, because you genuinely did, but there was something about how animalistic he was slowly becoming right in front of you.

"Fuck," he huffed an ominous laugh, his eyes completely shrouded with lust as he peered down at you. More rounds of shivers went through you.

This might sound unbelievable to other people, but to those who knew San, he was never one to curse. Even when you had sex with him, he never really did.

You yelped when he pushed your head down as his free hand cupped your clothed breast brutally. Your hands automatically flew to his muscular arm, hoping to ease the pressure he used to pin your forehead down the couch, but all that did was make him pinch your nipple through your lace bra.

"Aww, does that hurt, darling?" San chuckled maliciously.

"A l-little," you mewled, the pain traveling straight down there.

"Nah," he drawled out, a sinister grin still displayed on his face. Your instincts told you to scoot away when he started to lean down your face with fake, mocking concern. "You know what does hurt, though?"

Before you could answer, he buried his face into the crook of your neck, lapping and biting the sensitive parts of your flesh. White, searing pain commands your mouth open with a silent scream. He bit hard enough to draw blood, but not enough to pierce your skin.

A diabolical cackle sounds through the air as you thrash from his hold. All San did was to push his hips down, his hardening cock pulsing against your core to keep you down. Soon enough, the pain becomes pleasure. A soft moan involuntarily slips from your mouth, letting San know that you were enjoying this.

You felt him smile against your skin when he let your skin go from his teeth and planted a loving kiss on the bite mark, letting you know this time that he'd actually never hurt you.

That didn't mean he wouldn't inflict a little bit of it, though.

"So," he began, his hands finding their place on either side of your hips, holding you flush underneath him as he rolled his hips teasingly against you. "How does being my dirty little slut for tonight sound to you?"

You blinked owlishly at him, your mouth opening and closing repeatedly as your brain malfunctioned then and there. Behind the predatory look was amusement that danced in his eyes as he watched you practically melt at the indication.

"Ow, Sannie, h-hurts," you gasped as you felt his nails digging on your hips, but if that didn't turn you on, you didn't know what.

"Good," he barked, his nails now dragging up your sides deeply until they reached your chest. You yelped in response. It hurt, but it hurt so good.

You almost whined when he got off of you, but not for long. He grabbed your trembling body and made his way to your bedroom, unceremoniously slamming you onto your bed, where he tore your clothes off of you, haphazardly throwing them in random spots of your room without care.

"Come here," he growled, pulling on your feet until you were at the edge of the bed, your ass plush against his thighs.

He was about to dive down to explore your body but you panicked mildly, quickly jutting your hand out to push his head away gently from you. You swallowed and, oh, he did not like that at all. San's eyes narrowed dangerously, one brow raised, giving you a pointed look.

"I-I haven't showered yet," you stammered pathetically. "I'm g-gross and yucky---"

"Shut up," he hissed fiercely, effectively stopping you before you even continued that line of thought.

A whine escaped you when he spread your legs wide before he started kissing and biting everywhere his lips touched. You couldn't help but pull his hair every single time he would bite a sensitive part, something you didn't even think possible since you had no idea those parts were sensitive to begin with.

"God, you taste so fucking sweet, darling," he bit the soft expanse of your breasts, back and forth to make them even, before squeezing them painfully hard. "I've always wanted to do this, you know? Watch you writhe like this against my hold, scared to death waiting and anticipating at how hard I'd fuck you."

"S-San, t-that h-hurts---"

"I don't care," he snapped, sucking a brand new bruise in your inner thighs, holding you down harshly as he swirled his tongue on the sensitive flesh. "Besides," he chuckled. "You love this. Don't be a lying whore."

"Oh, fuck," you whined involuntarily, thoroughly turned on at being degraded. Your eyes widened as you quickly covered your mouth. You hadn't meant for that to come out the way it did.

Your skin was marked with multiple scratches, bite marks, and love bites. You knew you would regret it the next day since you had to go to work, but frankly, you didn't give a fuck. You'd wear them proudly for the world to see. It wasn't difficult to see that San was marking his territory with you, and by God, you loved it.

You felt his hand caress your inner thigh, waiting no more as his finger lightly grazed your sopping wetness. You couldn't help but whine at the delicious sensation.

"Such a dirty, little whore you are, my darling," he laughed. He wasted no time dipping two fingers inside you. "You like that, beautiful?"

You almost blacked out at the pleasure that automatically rendered your body into jelly. "Oh, God, San, shit," you rambled, bucking your hips unintentionally.

San wasn't your first, but you sincerely hoped that he was your last. He was the only one to genuinely care for you like he did. He was the only one to make you shudder and moan like this, the only you let in and gave yourself fully.

And he was the only one you'd ever let rough you up like this.

"Yes, just like that, darling, give it to me," he said through gritted teeth as his fingers drove into you roughly, the wet, squelching sounds from your pussy lewdly filling up the room.

"S-San, please," you practically cried, fisting the blankets around you until your knuckles were white. "I-I wanna come on your c-cock--"

"No," he snarled, flicking his wrist in an angle that had you screaming loudly. "You're going to come right now. Come on, love, give it to me."

His fingers demanded an orgasm, forcing pleasure out of your body that enticed you to surrender. And that, he'll get.

You've never really come from just fingering, alone, and San knew that, so when you started to scream and thrash around from the force of your orgasm, you didn't want to come down from your high. But San had different plans.

You hadn't noticed him taking all of his clothes off. You certainly hadn't noticed him hike your legs up to prop them on his wide shoulders before sliding inside you in one go.

"Oh, fucking hell," he hissed through gritted teeth. He thrust once, groaning lowly from within his chest at the feel of you.

Goosebumps formed on your skin and you couldn't help the small scream that erupted from you. "Fuck---"

You couldn't even finish it, not when San began pounding away at you like never before. "Oh, Sannie---"

He chuckled at how your eyes rolled behind your head at the unrelenting pace of his thrusts, and by God, you loved every second of how animalistic and how uncaring San seemed even though you knew he wouldn't hurt you.

"I should've done this from the very beginning," he trapped his tongue between his teeth cockily before grabbing your chin and squeezing it tight. "You like this, slut?"

You whined when he squeezed your face even tighter, the pain blooming in your brain, mixing with the heady pleasure San offered you. "You're going to let me use this slutty pussy," he sneered, diving down to claim your lips.

You wrapped your arms around him, parting your lips naturally to receive his sinful tongue. You weren't going to last long at all. Whenever San's cock entered you, he usually took it slow and sensual as he loved the look on your face whenever your bodies would connect as one.

"Ngh, you feel so b-big," you groaned, not even thinking about it.

Blush crept up your cheeks. Just because you were more outgoing, doesn't mean you didn't have your shy moments. You've always wanted to tell San that fact, but you were too afraid that he wouldn't receive it well because of how reserved he was.

He raised a mocking brow at you as he chuckled lowly - maliciously, even. "I know," he said.

His callous way of saying it made you squeeze around his cock on reflex, your hips bucking up in response. San hissed, and for a split second, his hips stuttered at how impossibly tight you felt around him.

"Do that again," he barked out, bending down to suck the sensitive flesh of your shoulder, your legs getting folded in half as he went in deeper on you, hitting you in places you didn't think possible.

"Like this?" You squeezed on command, a surge of pride going through you when San shuddered, his body shaking with ecstasy . It was a physical manifestation of what you do to him.

He didn't let up, his hips drove into you over and over again without rest or fail, the sound of skin slapping against skin prevalent, the lewdness of it turning the both of you on even more. Every time San's hips hit your behind, you couldn't help your moans that turned into a staccato mess.

You gasped when he suddenly yanked your arms away from his shoulders, growling under his breath as he roughly pinned your hands on top of your head as he took your deep and hard, cursing over and over again and making you scream.

"S-San, fuck, s-so good," you panted heavily, not expecting the restraint to make you feel this good.

"You're mine," he growled, pushing into your body viciously. "Mine."

"Yours, yours, f-fuck, ah, y-yours," you cried out.

Oh, he loved that. He took a small moment to stare at your panting form, tears forming on the corners of your eyes as your glossy eyes stared into nothing. Fuck, he thought. You were a vision like this. He digs his fingers into your wrists.

"Tell me," he began. "Is that too tight?"

You shook your head vigorously, stray tears landing on the sheets, your red-rimmed eyes widened. "N-No," you stuttered. "L-Love it."

"Of course, you do," he scoffed, pushing down on your hands more, enough to temporarily cut blood off. There would be bruises tomorrow, and they would haunt him badly, but right now, he couldn't find any fucks about it. You were completely his tonight, both body and soul.

Even when you whined because your legs were starting to get numb, he still didn't lift the pressure from your wrists as you changed position. It was the psychological aspect of it; you trusted San not to exert too much power on you and he dominated you just enough for him to show you how much he cared about your pleasure even though every drag of his cock against your velvety walls defined how much he also used you for his pleasure as if you were a ragdoll only made for his cum.

"Wrap your legs around me, baby," he ordered. You wasted no time doing so with San pulling you to him at the same time as he held deep within you. He pauses, composing himself. "Kiss me."

His free hand frames your face, angling his head to immediately slip his tongue inside your mouth, coaxing yours to dance with his in a filthy battle for dominance. San pulls away, kissing the corner of your mouth to resume fucking into you, but he gets caught off guard when he makes eye contact with you.

You looked deeply into his eyes. For a moment, all was forgotten - your nakedness, the bruises forming on your wrists, the beads of sweat forming on his forehead, his panting breaths, everything. It was just the two of you conveying everything you both couldn't say at the moment with just your eyes.

You swallowed audibly, mustering the courage to keep staring into San's eyes despite you wanting to do nothing but hide away. It was intense, it burned through you, it made you feel special.

"Fuck me, San," you whined - begged - buckling your hips to meet his.

Darkness covered his entire features. He didn't need to be told twice. He gave you a quick kiss before pounding back into you with so much force, your bed began squeaking obnoxiously, the headboards knocking over the walls repeatedly.

He lets your wrists go to grabs the sides of your hips, pulling you to meet his cock with a loud, prolonged growl. "Not gonna last long, baby, fuck," he slams your hips over and over again so roughly, your hipbones began to hurt, but you could care less.

His fingers makes their way to your clit, rubbing it fast in tandem with his maddening thrusts. Electricity made their way through your spine, your body thrashing. "N-No, Sannie, baby, I-I can't," your hips bucked higher. "San!"

You were shaking violently against his hold, overstimulation messing with your brain at all the different onslaughts San was doing to your body. "It's too much, please," you begged, voice wavering

"I don't give a fuck," San roared, the brashness of his voice surprising you, the fire in his eyes as he glared at you spurring your pleasure to different heights. "You told me you'd do anything," he kept rubbing your clit, pinching it for effect. "Well, you better take what I fucking give you. Even if I force it out of you."

"San, please, please!" You screamed pitifully, sobbing with full force at the domineering pain that overtook your entire core.

"You're mine, Y/N. End of story. Shut up and take my cock."

He was stretching you to your limits, and it was almost unbearable, but you couldn't find it in you to tell him to stop. This was different, there was no easing into it like he usually did before he even started, and there were absolutely no words of affirmation from him to let your orgasm take over you. This was pure fucking on his end, a mission to ruin you like he promised, and you'd welcome it with open arms.

"A-Ah, ngh, S-San! I really c-can't, please," you sobbed, the overstimulation alternating between unbearable pain and toe-curling pleasure.

Fresh tears made their way down your face all the way down to your sweaty neck as your body shook violently. You were close, that much you can tell. San could tell. You gasped when he pressed his muscular arm on your neck with little pressure, enough to just keep you in place, but the dominant gesture literally made your vision go black.

He leaned down to lick a stripe from your neck to your ear, collecting your tears lewdly. You cried when he bit your earlobe. "You will," he whispered vehemently. "You fucking will. You're going to come hard on my fucking cock, and you're going to scream my name."

You gurgled on your spit when he pressed his arms on your windpipe, the cutoff of the blood elevating your pleasure. He bared his teeth at the erotic sight. "You hear me, darling? My fucking name. Come for me, right fucking," he lets out a primal scream as he pummels his cock with bruising effort like his life depended on it. "Now."

He releases your neck to bury his face on the crook of your neck, and with a loud gasp, you completely let go as you screamed San's name so hard, your voice started cracking towards the end. The aftershocks of your orgasm shook you underneath his body. It was enough for San to let himself go.

He rammed into you a couple of times before he sank into you one last time, his release devastatingly strong that his legs almost gave out on him. It took a bit of effort on his end to not collapse on top of you and crush you with his weight.

Heavy pants filled your ears as you gasped to catch your own breath. You realized too late that you had both forgotten and forgone the use of protection, but if you were being honest to yourself, you couldn't even begin to care, let alone regret it, and you knew you never will.

You must've passed out shortly afterwards and the next time you came to, you were clean and already dressed in one of your favourite pyjamas, laying down comfortably on a San's chest as your body pressed against his sides, his hand wrapped loosely on your shoulders.

San didn't notice when you stirred awake. His other hand held a book, one that you knew he'd been binge-reading for a while now, his face relaxed lest you count his furrowed brows as he concentrated. If you weren't tired, you would've cooed at the endearing sight.

He looked good, especially with the black-rimmed glasses perched up his straight nose. Your heart skipped a beat - you had this wild urge to kiss him dizzy as if the both of you didn't just have the most mind-blowing sex.

Finally, he notices you and he does a comical double take when he makes eye contact with you. A soft smile tugged at your lips as he fumbled with his book, dropping it like he was caught doing something he wasn't supposed to be doing.

"H-Hey, baby," he laughed nervously, trying to pry off his glasses with both hands, whining in embarrassment when he realized that both of his hands were occupied. "I, uh, didn't want to disturb you. You, uhm, looked so peaceful, I just..."

You bit your lip to stop yourself from giggling when he put his book down on his lap to take the glasses off, but his clammy hands prevented him from doing so and it kept slipping off of his fingers.

"I got it, don't worry," you breathed out, lifting your hand to hold onto his, guiding it so he'd have a better grip, but his hand was shaking a bit too much that the glasses ended up slipping once more, only this time, they tumbled off of the bed.

He froze. "Oh crap, oh my God, uhm."

San was a cute bundle of nervous energy. Long gone was the man who dominated you like he did it everyday. He muttered something to himself, his cheeks burning bright. You wanted to give him some reprieve - mercy, if you will.

"it's alright, Sannie, relax," you chuckled, adjusting yourself to try and put his book away, yourself, so he could grab his glasses back from the floor. "Here, let me---"

But he seemed to have the same idea. The moment you lifted your head, was the moment he tilted his head down, causing your foreheads to knock off of each other. You both groaned in surprise, and before you could help it, you laughed out loud, the absurdity of it all getting to you. Oh, this man was cute.

"Please, don't laugh," he whined, more embarrassed than ever. "A-Are you okay? I am so sorry, I swear I'm not usually this clumsy!"

You were still laughing, it was uncontrollable at this point, and then you let out the loudest snort you've ever heard yourself do.

Your eyes went wide in mortification, clamping your hand over your mouth in shock. San froze, not knowing what to say at first, but then, he surprised you when he started laughing so hard, his entire body shook yours and he even let out a loud snort, himself.

"Oh, God, we're such a m-mess," you laughed even harder, wiping the lone tear from your eye.

"I'll say," he shook his head amusingly.

Your heart skipped a beat at the warmth in his voice. The awkwardness, the snorts, the blunders, it didn’t matter. You were laughing together, and somehow, in that moment, it felt perfect.

"You're adorable," he whispered, pulling you to him to plant the softest kiss on your forehead. Suddenly, he pulled away, as if disbelieving that he just did that.

Just like that, the laughter died down. The air simmered with a light tension, not the awkward kind, only the type that came from someone who didn't want to overstep their boundaries.

He lifted your hands, touching the bruises that were beginning to form on your wrists with such gentleness that it actually hurt you to see him this way. "I'm sorry," he croaked, his finger lingering on the bruises as if he was trying to erase them.

"San," you spoke with conviction, cupping his face firmly. "It's okay, I, uhm, I liked it."

You flushed crimson at the admission. He didn't say anything, the grief in his eyes still visible, but lessened as you assured him that it was okay.

"How long was I out?" You asked, breaking the ice lightly.

"A little more than an hour," he hummed, clearing his throat before turning to you. "Listen, I- I just wanted to make sure you're okay. I know we've never really spent the night before, but I didn't want to leave you. It didn't feel right to me."

That made your heart soar, but it also almost struck a pang in your chest, his uncertainty was palpable. "Did I hurt you?" San asked, his voice quiet. "I was too rough, wasn't I? I'm worried I might have crossed some lines with you."

You softened at the concern in his eyes. You could tell he was genuinely troubled, his usual confidence now replaced with hesitation. You shook your head with a reassuring smile. "You didn't, not even close," you gave him a small peck on the cheek to make your point across. "I'm glad you stayed."

His brows lifted in surprise as you pulled away, his eyes never leaving yours to search for any signs of discomfort. "I don't know what came over me," he admitted, voice strained. "You just looked so damn good, I-I couldn't resist."

You stayed silent, letting him continue. San fidgeted with his finger to find the right things to say to you without overthinking too much. "What I'm trying to say is," he sighed. "I just want it to be perfect for you."

You hadn't expected him to be this open. Something warm coats your chest. it felt serene, calming even. "I don't want perfection, San," you shook your head. "But you are perfect for me."

His eyes widened, mouth hanging slightly at your admission. "Really?" San asked, as if he weren't expecting you to say anything of the like.

His expression softened, and he reached out, gently brushing his fingers against yours. The simple touch felt electric, as if everything until now had shifted into something more open, more real.

Everything seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you with a quiet understanding. No more uncertainty, no more hesitation. Just the simple truth of what was there all along.

"This is what I want," you said. "You're very kind, San. You listen, and you care. When I'm with you, I'm not pressured to be someone I'm not. I don't even have to because I know you'll be there for me."

He didn't speak, his gaze just lingering on you as if he was seeing you for the very first time. There was something in the way he looked at you, something unspoken, that made everything feel so clear. The depth of his affection was almost suffocating, but if that was the case, you'd drown in it willingly.

And San knew that you could feel it. He tucked the strays of your hair behind your ears before settling on your face. He smiled softly, still as shy as ever, and in between the knowing looks you both shared, he just hoped that his sincerity was enough.

"I think I want to love you one day," he murmured, heart beating wildly in his chest at the confession. "I would love to fall madly for you."

There were no words need to be said. The connotation was there, and you both knew it. You closed your eyes, a split second of imagination playing in your head. It was too soon, you two basically just met and you were still at that stage where you were still learning about each other, but you could almost see it then and there.

Still, the revelation left you reeling. Breathless, even.

"I think I want to love you one day, too," you confessed with a smile. "I can honestly see myself falling in love with you, San."

And if his smile wasn't an indicator of how happy he was, you didn't know what. You were happy, too.

Dividers by : @dollywons Like my work? Click here to view my previous story.

[ddlydevotion]

Grace and Bo Chow both being infatuated with you 💌 ₊˚⊹⋆

a/n: I hope you guys enjoy reading this just as much as I enjoyed writing this! This post contains nsfw content/slightly obsessive behavior so proceed with caution. This is also quite long so I apologize for that. Look out for a part two!

currently listening to: Cupid by Sam Cooke

You met Bo first. You applied for a job at the shop and proved yourself to be incredibly dependable. He allowed you to count the money in the register, keep logs of what was going in & out of the store, and take care of client records and accounts. The two of you had a purely professional relationship, but if a professional relationship consisted of longing glances, lingering touches, and endearing nicknames.

You knew he was married, the golden band around his ring finger didn't let you forget the fact that he was. You felt horrible for even entertaining the nicknames and the close contact he kept with you, but you considered yourself to be on the safe side of things. As long as the two of you kept the touchiness to a minimum and didn't take your affection for one another to the bedroom, everything was fine.

His wife, Grace, tended to their shared store on the white side of town. She'd occasionally pop into the store to check in on Bo & their daughter, making sure she completed her tasks for the day. Afterwards, she'd never fail to make her way up to you and ask about your day.

"How are ye doin? Bo been treatin' you well?"

"You're doin' a good job around 'ere, girl. We gotta keep you here, don't want the other stores to try an' take ye from us."

Bo would affirm her praise by nodding his head and adding in his own little two cents. Grace wouldn't shy away from rubbing your arm or placing a delicate finger underneath your chin while saying "you're a real pretty girl, y'know that?". Her physical touch could be disguised as something playful and sweet, something between two women that were fond of one another. But, as the two of them made eye contact over your head they knew that what they had in store for you was anything but playful.

The playful banter between the three of you continued for weeks after that. You didn't expect anything more to blossom from your friendship with the married couple, but the clueless cloud you had over your head was quickly blown away one night. It was usual for them to invite you over to have dinner at their shared home. It was a common occurrence that even Lisa looked forward to as you were never anything but kind to her.

If you try to tell them that you wouldn't be able to make it due to a packed schedule, they'd do everything in their power to convince you to show anyway.

"Oh, we promise we won't keep you long. C'mon ya could just come on over for some dinner and make your way home after that. promise."

"awe are ya sure? Lisa was really lookin' forward to seeing ya again."

Sure, it was common for them to invite you over for dinner. However, it wasn't all too common for them to invite you into their bedroom. They'd usually keep you past midnight to have conversation going in the kitchen, but Bo offered to move the late night ritual into their bedroom. The conversation went on as normal and the wine in your glass disappeared by the minute. You sat with your legs crossed on their wooden-framed bed, the couple sat right in front of you. Bo's hand made a home for itself on the skin of your thigh that peaked from underneath your dress, he rarely ever showed such explicit affection like this. You expected Grace to become angry with the two of you, rightfully so, and have the night come to an end. Instead, she moved towards you and swept your hair out of your face with those delicate fingers of hers you've come to admire.

"I don't think ya know just how pretty ya are. I mean, jus' look at that face, baby. You just might be the prettiest damn thing I've ever seen." Bo's hand moved towards the inside of your thigh and a small smile stretched across his lips. "s'true, sweetheart", both of his hands eventually moved towards the inside of your thighs, spreading you open for him, Grace shuffling behind you before positioning your head to lay on her lap.

The night ended with your legs curved around Bo's slender waist as he pumped his cock into you, the coarse hair at the base of his cock stimulating your pulsing clit once he finally bottomed out. Grace kept herself busy, too. She rubbed your throbbing clit with her middle & ring finger, occasionally cradling your flushed cheeks and encouraging you to "take that cock, baby. s'so big, ain't it? I know, I know", shushing your whines and cooing at your fucked out expression. She couldn’t help but smile when you let out a surprised squeal at the feeling of her fingers tweaking and pinching your sensitive nipples.

Your relationship with the Chow's was never made public to the town, I mean, why would it be? Everyone in your close circle knew that the three of you were quite the close bunch of friends, but they didn't know the rest of it.

I can definitely see the both of them being possessive over you. They could see you talking with a friend of yours outside of the store and immediately interrogate you about it.

"She's just a good friend of mine! What's this all about?"

"Y'know damn well what this is all about. She looked like she was imaginin' what ya looked like without your clothes on."

It'd make them inexplicably upset to see you in a relationship with anyone that isn't them. They'd never allow you to do so without putting up a fight, though. It'd be foolish for you to think they'd let you go so easily. Even if you did get romantically involved with anyone else, you'd never be truly satisfied. Grace and Bo raised your standards to the damn moon and it'd be impossible for anyone to try and fill their shoes. Whenever your partner did anything wrong, you couldn't help but think "they'd never do that to me."

Helping Grace whenever she's working on a sign for a client. She doesn't hold back on sharing just how proud she is of you when you finish up a paint job.

Sharing many passion filled nights with the couple at the Juke Joint. You spend so much time sat at the bar without ordering anything just to talk to Grace. Bo pulls you in to dance with him and no one around bats an eye. What's wrong with two friends sharing a dance together? However, the way his glistening eyes gaze into yours with such intense passion behind them is anything but platonic.

It's incredibly easy for you and Grace to hide the true nature of your relationship. Nobody suspects anything even when her arm is firmly wrapped around your waist, or when her lips graze your cheek in a sweet peck. That's just how good friends celebrate one another.

They always find themselves on your front porch with gifts and they hardly ever show up empty handed. The gifts range from sundresses perfect for the southern heat, pastries they know you'll enjoy, savory treats the both of them worked on.

You're constantly heading over to their home and being convinced to stay the night by the sweet-talking couple. They don't entertain the possibility of you staying in a spare room, they want you to make yourself familiar & comfortable with their bedroom. Their spare room is honestly quite useful in having visitors believe that's where you stay, assisting in avoiding any questions about the true nature of your 'friendship'.

Bo wraps himself around your body like a koala and Grace curls herself into a fetal position in front of you, relishing in the feeling of your warm arms around her.

taglist: @officialthrad @bochowswife @thegr33nc0met @missroro @mjwhis @foreid let me know if you'd like to be added!