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tonicandjins · 1 year

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learning languages | lee donghyuck

pairing: lee donghyuck | nct haechan x reader word count: 18.5k genre: university au, getting together, smut, fluff, angst summary: in which you're an exchange student and donghyuck teaches you the essential korean phrases you need, and eventually how to fall in love with him tag list: @smwhrinthehaze @byungbyungbaek @sundamariis @thiccfullsun @yesohhsehun @haechoshi @najmnluvr @liz-zo @heyitsconysstuff @magicastle @novawon @gaeulswrld author’s note: I’m so sorry it took so long, but here it is! I imagine conversations with everyone in Korean, except for Mark! 😊 I imagine the conversations with Mark in English. I also have 0 knowledge with the Korean language except from the common phrases every Kpop fan knows lol. So please bare with me and feel free to correct me! ^^ Please also consider tipping me if you want to! NCT Dream is coming to my country this April and I’d love to see them if I could :) TIP ME HERE.

날씨가 추워 (nalssiga chuwo) – the weather is cold

The rain is pouring when you arrive in Incheon.

It’s not as harsh as it is where you come from, but the February breeze still makes you shiver and curse under your breath, and while you’re wallowing and pouting over the fact that your first day in South Korea is not going as well as you wanted, Mark is chirpy—a little too happy for your liking.

Of course, Mark is happy. Your bitterness over the weather is not going to spoil his energy, the exact same one—maybe stronger—he has had over the past couple of weeks, counting down the days he’d be back in Seoul, finally. Mark has told you that it had been over a decade since he last visited South Korea, and the Student Exchange Program from your university had been the best opportunity for him to come back after so long, too long. The stupid smile on his face somehow makes you feel better, especially when he jumps from his seat when he sees his childhood friend walk towards your area.

Renjun is handsome like the picture that Mark sent you a week before your flight to South Korea, but it feels a little unfair that he’s even more attractive in person. His voice sounds like honey and the corner of his eyes crinkle when he smiles as he approaches you and Mark.

They jump into a tight, dramatic hug that makes a few other people in the waiting area look, but the boys don’t care. Mark lifts Renjun up from the ground, it’s almost embarrassing. The sight makes you feel warm. You wonder how Mark feels.

It must be amazing, you think, to finally meet someone you’ve been longing to see. Mark had always expressed his yearning for the place—the people, the friends he always had to leave behind when visiting during summer—and it makes you wonder how it feels like to have friends and family away from you.

Evidently, this is your first time to be away from home. You live (or used to at this point) in a dormitory, a two-minute walk to the campus, a good hour away from home, but you always went home whenever you craved for your mother’s dishes. You’ve never considered living away from home. Sure, you had plans to move out eventually, but not in a different time zone, not in an entirely different culture. Mark, on the other hand, is frequently moving around, dragging his suitcase from place to place, leaving people behind and promising he’d come back when he can.

Born in Canada, Mark had been to more places that you could count, but he has told you many times that nowhere else feels like home, like Seoul. He’s told you many stories of the time his family lived there for a few years before going back to Canada, of his annual visits in the summer, and of his devastation when life had caught up with him that he had to stop visiting when he turned eleven.

You remember his voice, its tone and emotion, when he called you a couple of months ago, informing you of the exchange program that the university’s administration had posted on the students’ corner, and how fucking amazing it would be if you could sign up with him.

“It would be a good addition to your credentials,” he had told you. “It’s not going to be for a long time, a semester at least. And we have the option to stay the whole academic year if we wanted to! Plus, I already know a lot of people there. We’ll be fine!”

“I don’t know, Mark,” you had answered, feigning hesitation, even when you knew deep down that Mark had already convinced you by the tone of his voice when he revealed the news. “I’ve never been that far away from home. Remember when we went camping in ninth grade? I cried. For three whole days. I’m not going to survive a semester. Besides, I know not a single Korean word.”

“Come on, Y/N,” he had begged. “Think about it. You’ll be with me the entire time. If we pass the screening, the program will sign us up for free Hangul lessons—though, let’s be honest, I don’t really need it.”

“Why do you have to bring me anyway?” you had asked out of curiosity.

“Because I know you’ll love it there,” he had answered. “Your obsession with studying culture and languages will be satisfied because there is no better way to learn a culture than experiencing the whole thing with your best friend!”

You remember humming in response, as if you’re thinking deeply about it. Mark sighed on the other line, his words making you laugh and finally agree.

“The chances of Mom letting me go is bigger when I tell her you’re coming with me,” he had admitted. Mark, upon hearing your agreement to his proposal, began listing out the places he would take you. The phone call lasted for three more hours and it had seemed like Mark already had an entire plan in his head before he even asked you if you would go with him.

Passing the program had been easy and so was acquiring your visa. What was truly the pain in the ass, you admit, is learning the damn language. You salute Mark for being able to speak Korean so fluently, but he’s shit at teaching you and you had to rely on the free lessons you had taken every weekend and your favorite language mentor, Lee Minho in Legend of the Blue Sea. Your Korean is awful. Your tongue is a little too short, too stiff, for said language, and the situation almost makes you back out of the entire program and ditch Mark.

But here you are, still shit at Korean, but standing among hustling people and waiting for your best friend to wrap up the moment he’s sharing with his long-time friend. Renjun finally catches your eyes as you awkwardly watch them on the side, your backpack becoming heavier each second you’re standing on the airport tiles. He pulls away from Mark, smiling, beaming towards you and offers a handshake.

“Hwang Renjun,” he introduces. You remember their last names go first here. “Nice to meet you.”

It almost startles you when he speaks English. Mark forgot to mention his friend is fluent, you think.

You tell him your name, voice smaller than it usually is, and express your relief that he speaks English.

“I’m originally not from here either,” he explains. “I’m Chinese. My family had to move here before I could even properly pronounce words for my Dad’s work. Went to an international school, where I met Mark back in second grade.”

So, he’s cute and multilingual. How unfair.

“And I’d love to chat longer,” he says, switching to Korean now, before you can even respond. “But Hyuck is waiting in his car. We could talk on our way to your dormitory. For now, let’s go. Hyuck hates waiting.”

“Hyuck drove? What happened to your car?” Mark asks, helping you with your luggage and pushing the cart himself. Renjun insists to carry your backpack, and he had already gently pulled it from your shoulder before you could refuse.

Mark and Renjun talk about Hyuck, both switching to speaking Korean now, on their way out of the arrival area and it doesn’t take long for them to spot their friend’s car outside. The rain had stopped pouring by the time you’re settling yourselves inside their friend’s car. The second you settle yourself on the leather seat, you sigh in relief. Traveling is a lot more exhausting than you had initially thought.

Renjun sits on the passenger seat, right beside Hyuck, you assume, and Mark settles himself beside you.

“Mark Lee,” Hyuck greets, looking at Mark through the rearview mirror. “A pleasure to finally meet you.”

It takes you a second to understand what he said. It’s only then that you realize you really are in Korea.

“Lee Donghyuck,” Mark responds in the same tone. “You’re real. I’m happy to see you in person and not just through Facetime. I want to hug you.”

“Am I better looking in person?” Hyuck teases. “Hug me when we’re at your dormitory. I’ll even kiss you on the lips if you want to.”

“Disgusting,” Mark grimaces. “By the way—” He turns his attention to you the same time Hyuck begins driving. “This is Y/N.”

Hyuck only smiles, nodding a little to you through the rearview mirror, brushing his brown hair using his fingers to fix it up. Renjun begins to ask how the flight was and Mark replies. All three boys strike up a conversation in Korean and it was all too much, too fast, for you to catch up and understand anything, so you stay quiet on your seat, leaning against the window, and begin to wonder how things will go for the entire spring semester you’ll be spending in this foreign city.

Mark never told you that the drive from Incheon to Seoul is long, so far that you didn’t even realize you had fallen asleep. When you arrive at the dormitory, it’s past six in the afternoon and Mark’s friends ask kindly if you want to go out for dinner. Politely and quite incoherently, you tell them that you’d like to stay. Mark insists on staying home with you and unpacking your belongings, but you urge him to go, spend some time with his friends and walk around. Mark hesitates, but agrees nonetheless, promising he will come back in an hour.

The place the program had picked for you and Mark is not that bad. It’s nothing like home, but it’s not bad. It makes you wonder how Mark does it. You remember not being able to sleep on the first few nights on your dormitory’s bed when you were a freshman. Mark had never told you if he’s had trouble adapting to places he’s been. Maybe you could ask him in the morning.

The exhaustion hits you again upon entering one of the rooms. Room assignment is yet to be decided, but Mark wouldn’t mind if you sleep on one of the beds while he’s out. And so, you sleep.

You don’t remember what you dream of. And Mark wakes you at seven in the morning, reminding you that you had to unpack and go grocery shopping. Momentarily, you forget where you are. It hits you the same way it does in his friend’s car. You’re in a different country. A different language. A different time zone.

It doesn’t feel like home at all even though it’s cold. But you guess you’ll have to make it work. At least until the semester ends.

약속해요 (yagsoghaeyo) – I promise

When Mark told you he knew a lot of people in Seoul, you should’ve known he was bluffing because he literally knew only seven people.

Mark Lee’s friends are warm and loud and somehow you feel out of place when they all decide to hangout where you and Mark are. It’s the first week of the semester, and you have completed all the orientation and tour you need; Mark, on the other hand, is still catching up with everyone.

By everyone, he meant Kevin Moon, a senior who is also Mark’s cousin’s long-distance boyfriend who happens to be studying in SNU too, Hwang Renjun from Natural Sciences, Lee Donghyuck from Music, Lee Jeno and Na Jaemin from Engineering and Architecture, Zhong Chenle from Humanities, and Park Jisung from Business Administration. Which is why every day, for the past five days, you’re at a place called Arcade, with Mark and two or three people from their group.

It turns out Huang Renjun and Na Jaemin were Mark’s friends from childhood, the others are friends by extension.

Huang Renjun, you understand why Mark is closest to him among all. He’s soft all over but sharp in the mouth. Renjun, you learn, likes to talk about life and likes to give people advice when they need it. He’s reserved with other people but is the complete opposite when he’s with his friends.

Lee Jeno is shy. He normally joins the group after his internship at a construction corporation in the outskirts of Seoul, which is why you haven’t really seen him much—only twice. You haven’t had that many conversations with him yet, but he’s kind enough to pass you the ketchup when he sees you staring at it from the end of the table.

Zhong Chenle and Park Jisung are best friends. There’s not a day that you have not seen either without the other, kind of reminds you of how you and Mark are. They join whenever one is available—two peas in a pod.

Na Jaemin is the closest with Lee Donghyuck. You see them talking in their bubble more frequently than the others. Jaemin is mysterious and a little cold—the complete opposite of Lee Donghyuck.

Lee Donghyuck, well, you’ve got a lot to say about him.

It isn’t necessarily an uncomfortable feeling, because Mark’s friends are kind enough to slow down when they talk to you and are quite protective of you, especially when a random stranger bravely comes up to you to introduce themselves. Lee Donghyuck, in particular, who’s as warm as the sun touching your skin at nine in the morning and whose voice is careful and assuring, ensures that you’re never out of place—even when you feel it all the time. From the day the semester started, there hasn’t been a day when Donghyuck isn’t hanging out with you and Mark at Arcade.

Mark normally picks you up from class because thank God your schedules are aligned to each other despite having different majors. The College of Social Sciences is quiet, unlike the building right beside you, College of Music, and Mark usually takes five minutes to find you, because you can’t trust yourself to walk around on your own—at least not yet. But today, Mark asked if you could meet Kevin first because his girlfriend had something for him from Canada.

“Hyungseo!” You hear someone call, making you look up from your phone to see Kevin walking towards you. He stops and turns around, a girl you’ve seen around the college of social sciences once or twice running towards him.

“Don’t forget to bring the laminated cards we need for Friday!” the lady shouts. Kevin gives her a thumbs up and turns back to you.

“Y/N, right?” he asks in English. You nod. He offers a hand. “I’m sorry we haven’t met personally yet. But I’m Kevin.”

“She called you Hyungseo, though,” you trail off, accepting the handshake anyway. “I’ve seen your pictures from Giselle’s phone, so I knew it was you.”

He laughs. “Hyungseo’s my Korean name. You should’ve packed her with you.”

You reach for your bag and hand him the box that’s been sitting in your backpack all day. “Here,” you say. “No plans on visiting sometime soon?”

Kevin sighs. “I wish I could,” he answers. “It’s not as easy as we thought.”

“You guys sound okay though,” you comment. “I mean, Giselle always sounds so happy when she talks about you back home.”

This makes Kevin smile. “Oh, she does?”

“Why would she think of getting you a gift all the way from home if she’s not?” you ask, biting your tongue as soon as the words come out. “Sorry, I shouldn’t ask.”

“Let’s talk about this over some soju when you find a dude you want to spend the rest of your life with here,” he jokes. “Thanks for bringing this. You and Mark have been so busy; he’s been declining all my invitations to hangout.”

You sigh, “Yeah. It’s only the first week and there are lot of things we had to do. I’ll ask him if we can hang out on the weekend?”

Kevin agrees and hands his phone to you, asking to put your number so he could call you. You do and tell him you’re grateful you could talk to someone in English aside from Mark and bid him goodbye when he leaves. You shoot Mark a text, telling him you’ll be waiting for him and that Kevin’s dropped by to get his gift from Giselle.

Hence, you wait outside, busying yourself with your phone, trying to avoid any interaction as much as you can, and you don’t notice Donghyuck standing beside you until he taps your shoulder and gives you a warm smile.

“Mark is running late,” he says slowly. “Let’s go to Arcade together.”

You smile at Donghyuck’s attempt to pronounce Arcade how you would and nod at him. He leads the way out of the building, his backpack on one shoulder, and asks you how your classes are so far.

“It’s okay,” you answer because it’s all you can think of. “Thank God my professor in Psychology speaks English.”

Donghyuck hums. “It must be difficult for you.”

“It is,” you confess.

Among everyone you have met so far, Donghyuck gives you the feeling of comfort; you’re not exactly the most outgoing person nor the least—you were in between. You were okay with that. And you were okay that Donghyuck is okay with that, too. He doesn’t push you to speak more (probably because he knows you most likely do not know how to say whatever you had in mind), but can be very persuasive when there’s a hint that you’re relaxed.

Lee Donghyuck is bold and charming and amiable like nobody you’ve ever known. Normally, or at least with how you’re used to, people are a little more reserved around people they just met. And culturally speaking, you didn’t expect Donghyuck to be so forward and already so comfortable hanging out with you, what more with having conversations like this.

“Don’t worry, though,” he assures. “You’ll be fine. You’re here for about six months, anyway. I promise it’ll be the best six months of your college years.”

He’s also bright like this—optimistic and kind and assuring. You’re glad Mark is friends with people like him, with Donghyuck.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you try to say, a phrase Mark taught you the other night. “Did I say that right?”

Donghyuck giggles, stopping and reaching up to ruffle your hair. “You’re absolutely adorable.”

“That, I am,” you joke back, more comfortable around him now.

“I promise,” he says. “It’ll be so good; you wouldn’t want to go back to Canada.”

한국말 잘 못해요 (hangugmal jal moshaeyo) – I don’t speak Korean well | 죽을래 (jug-eullae) – Do you want to die?

Donghyuck turns out to be a better teacher than Lee Minho and Mark Lee combined. He gifts you a small, pocket-friendly notebook, asking you to keep it for the rest of your stay, notably commenting that the material’s size will allow you to bring it everywhere you go. Hence, the tiny, brown faux leather notebook is safely tucked between your necessities inside your bag.

The first sentence he teaches you turns out to be the most essential: I don’t speak Korean well.

Donghyuck takes you to a café called 7 Days, an entirely different vibe compared to Arcade. You don’t question Donghyuck when he puts an arm on your shoulder as you walk together inside the café, but he asks you right away when he must have felt you stiffen from the touch: “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” you answer quietly.

Donghyuck smiles warmly at you. “Here, have a look around and I’ll get you something to drink before we decide what we want to eat. I have the perfect drink for you!”

He goes before you could say anything. You look and realize that the café is not so bad. Its aesthetic is the complete opposite of what Arcade’s going for—cozy, serene, almost like a good place to study or sleep in, whatever you need to survive the day—and the Biscoff latte is bomb, you don’t think you can drink latte differently now.

Conversations with Donghyuck could, well, unfortunately, go only where your limit is. He’s fun and likes to tell a lot of stories, but it’s always interrupted with you asking what a word means and him pulling up his phone and have his translation app say it for you. He makes jokes that you regrettably do not understand, but Donghyuck doesn’t take it to the heart and only says: “By the end of the term, you’ll be saying these jokes to Mark Lee.”

Donghyuck excuses himself to go to the toilet about an hour later and allows you a few minutes by yourself, which you happily spend taking pictures of the interior of the café. You sigh when you realize you didn’t take a picture of the Biscoff latte when it was full and pretty. Someone taps you on the shoulder, and it could only be Donghyuck, so you turn with a smile.

“I forgot to take a picture of the drink—Oh.” It’s not Donghyuck. “I’m sorry, how can I help you?” you ask politely.

The man towers over you and he smiles warmly. Your cheeks flush when he does, because you probably mispronounce each syllable from that sentence. “I’m Sanha.”

You bow courteously, still have 0 idea why the man is talking to you.

“I don’t see you around often,” he says. “And I’m here, like, almost all the time unless I have a class. My dad owns the place. How do you like it so far?”

“It’s… okay,” you say. Sanha chuckles, and your face is hot you probably look like a red potato now. “I mean, not just okay, I just can’t find the words to—”

He takes Donghyuck’s seat. “I can teach you,” he offers. “We can meet up here, and—”

Donghyuck calls your name, voice firm and monotonous like never before. “It’s getting late. Mark texted me to take you home early because Chenle’s making dinner at your place.”

You look at Sanha apologetically, still unable to reply properly so you only say, “I’m sorry.”

Donghyuck doesn’t give you the chance to say anything more because he’s already helping you out of your seat, turning you around so you could start walking towards the door, pushing you until you’re out of the café.

You hear him sigh as you walk away from the café, arm around your shoulder like how you entered the place.

“Y/N, my sweet pea,” he softly says. “Please don’t to talk strangers.”

You shrug, “It’s not like I could just ignore him when he was already taking you space.”

He scoffs. “When strangers start talking to you and being all brave and upfront, you tell them: I don’t speak Korean well. Then just start hitting them with English words and exaggerate your accent. That’s how Mark Lee tries to avoid conversations with girls sometimes because he’s a loser and women make him nervous.”

“I don’t speak Korean well,” you repeat, slowly pronouncing each syllable.

“Where’s the notebook I asked you to bring everywhere?” Donghyuck asks. “Write that down.”

You nod and tell him you’d do it later. Donghyuck leads the way towards the stop just in time for the bus that’s about to leave. You and him hop in, taking the seats in the back, giggling when Donghyuck almost topples over as soon as the bus starts to move. He lets you sit by the window and starts telling you about how his sister always fights him to get the window seat and he’s never won so he naturally just gives people the said seat.

You’re nearby the next stop when you ask him: “Donghyuck, what if I tell people I don’t speak Korean well and they wouldn’t stop bothering me?”

Donghyuck looks nice in his brown, fluffy jacket, face bare, his eyeglasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. He looks even nice whenever he smiles like this.

“Y/N, do you know how cute you are?” An answer you don’t expect. “You’re so cute when you ask questions like this. I want to put you in my pocket.”

“Donghyuck,” you sigh, expecting a serious answer.

He reaches up to pat your head. “You won’t have to worry because we won’t let you be on your own unless you ask us to stay away. Especially me. Not me. I’ll make sure to take care of you and Mark while the two of you are here.”

You nod, still not satisfied with the answer. The Sanha situation awhile ago makes you realize how helpless you’d be if you weren’t with Mark or any of his friends. Donghyuck probably notices your dissatisfaction when he feels like you’re sulking, which you definitely are, because he chuckles and pokes your cheek to get your attention again.

“If it makes you feel better,” he says. “You could always ask them if they want to die.”

“That’s mean!” you gasp.

“Or tell them to fuck off,” he shrugs.

“Donghyuck!”

“What?” he asks. “It’s not like I don’t hear you and Mark say ‘fuck you’ to each other every day.”

You laugh at that. “Saying it in Korean hits different.”

“Right!” Donghyuck agrees. “I’ve been telling people saying fuck you in Korean has more impact than in any other language. I can say the word fuck every day.”

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” you joke.

Donghyuck coos. “Oh, I’m so proud of you. You’re cracking jokes now.”

The bus halts at your stop, and Donghyuck helps you up by taking your hand the way he’s helping you learn the language. It’s only when you’ve reached the street to the apartment you share with Mark that you realized you’ve been holding hands all the way from the bus stop.

저 알러지 있어요 (jeo alleoji iss-eoyo) – I’m allergic

“Do you not understand what you just did, Mark Lee?” you ask in disbelief.

It’s only a month into your stay in Seoul, and Mark does the dumbest thing ever. Mark Lee comes home with a pet cat.

There were three rules for the spring semester, three very specific and very easy rules: one, to always text each other’s location as soon as you step foot outside of the apartment (which you and him are constantly compliant about; you love Mark Lee for that); two, to never skip a class unless you’re sick (you’re only here until July; Mark decided he’s not wasting a single day in Seoul, even if it means going to classes on time and by schedule without fail); and lastly, don’t keep things you won’t be able to take back home.

Mark had said that these rules are specifically for you because rule number one ensures your safety, rule number ensures you get the real Korean education experience, and rule number three apparently ensures you’re not leaving anything important at the airport when you leave—which now you think is bullshit. The rules are more for him than you, but you love Mark Lee, and it’s not like the cat isn’t cute.

“But, Y/N,” Mark pouts. “She kept on staring at me with these eyes when Renjun was busy comparing brands of dog treats. It was like her eyes were calling me, asking me to take her home!”

The calico cat is a baby; Mark said it’s not even five months old yet. It’s the last from seven siblings, the last one to be adopted (and you think Mark is only telling you this to convince you this is a good idea. She jumps out from Mark’s lap and goes to you, staring at you first before settling herself on your lap.

“She loves you already!” Mark comments.

You sigh. “Mark. You know we can’t take her home, right? We’re leaving in like, five months.”

“Which means I have five months to convince our friends to adopt her while I’m in Canada!” he answers enthusiastically, his eyes almost sparkling with the way he’s talking. “I couldn’t just leave her there. My heart wouldn’t allow me to leave without her!”

“Fine,” you give up. “Don’t cry on me on the plane back home when we leave her.”

Mark chuckles. “I think I should be more worried about you crying on the plane back home.”

Someone knocks on your door before you can ask what he means by that. It’s Mark who stands and welcome the person, and of course, it’s Donghyuck.

It’s Saturday. Saturday means Donghyuck comes and hangs out at your place because he no longer has to work in the university library on the weekends. He’d quit, saying his big mouth isn’t fit for the library, and had asked the school administration to reassign him to another facility. Part of his scholarship is to work at least 16 hours a week in one of the university’s facilities. He’s paid, of course, but Donghyuck says he’s not paid enough to keep his mouth shut for 16 hours a week. The admin asked for a week to figure out where he’d be assigned next, so he had this entire weekend all to himself, which, to how it looks like now, he’d decided to spend with you and Mark.

Mark lets Donghyuck in. The latter’s smile falters when he sees you; he only gives you a curt nod. And it’s not like you’re expecting Donghyuck to cuddle you on the couch, alright? It’s just that, you’ve known each other for a month now, and have hung out together a handful of times—just the two of you—and he called you yesterday telling you he’d come hangout with you and Mark for the weekend, even said something about teaching you to play Apex if you have the energy for it. And it’s not like he’s obligated to come sit beside you as soon as he enters your apartment, but you’re confused when he sits on the single couch far away from you, stance uncomfortable and his face looking like he’d rather be elsewhere.

Mark’s voice fades away when he asks Donghyuck what their plans are, to which Donghyuck answers: “I’m actually just here to say hi. I’m leaving in a bit.”

“No way,” Mark protests.

“Or we could go out?” Donghyuck offers.

“Uh-uh,” Mark refuses. “Y/N has been excited all morning to see you. You’re not going to disappoint her today.”

“I didn’t say anything—” You try to say, but couldn’t translate what you want to say quick enough. “Donghyuck obviously doesn’t want to be here.”

Over the course of a month living in Seoul, you and Donghyuck had grown closer more than anyone. It would be ridiculous to deny Donghyuck’s seemingly unceasing affection towards you, and in the same manner, it would be a lie if you’d say you’re not enjoying all the attention he’s been giving you. Above the flirty and friendly advances he makes (but never crossing the line), Donghyuck has grown to be a good friend. During the first couple of weeks, you would refer to him as Mark’s friend; it’s safe you say you’re friends with him now.

Donghyuck’s decided to pick you up from the college of Social Sciences, convincing Mark that his building is literally next to yours and that a ten-minute walk to Arcade with you is not going to hurt him—Mark’s been walking with you for many years anyway, he would mumble under his breath, close enough for you to hear but distant enough for you to understand what he truly means. Hence, with the growing friendship you have with him, you wonder what you had done this time.

“It’s not like that,” Donghyuck answers the question you had in mind, both hands raised in defense. You raise an eyebrow. “That.”

Donghyuck points at your lap, Mark’s unnamed cat sleeping soundly now. Oh.

“I’m allergic,” he explains. “I can’t be around one within like a five-meter radius otherwise, I would, like, you know, die.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Mark comments. “Are you really?”

“Yeah,” Donghyuck confirms. “The allergens are getting to me. My throat is starting to close up. I have to leave now.”

This startles you and Mark, the latter quickly taking the calico cat from your lap and quickly taking it to his room. You reckon the cat’s allergens are all over you so you sit as far away as you can from Donghyuck.

“It’s fine,” he assures, but he already looks like he’s choking. “It’s not that serious. They usually just give me allergic rashes and kind of triggers my asthma. So, we’re good.”

“But you have a dog!” you remark. “You never told me you’re allergic to cats!”

He chuckles, “Well, you learn something every day.”

“There are some anti-histamine tablets from the cupboard,” you point out, still seated where you are. “I probably have allergens on my hands; please go get yourself one.”

Donghyuck does what he’s told, taking one and opening the fridge to get himself a bottle of water. You tell him you’re changing your clothes and ask him to wait up, offering to go out and have a meal with him instead.

Mark knocks on your door a couple of minutes later, finding you dressed up, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “Donghyuck said he’d wait outside. You look nice.”

“I know I look nice,” you say as you go back to your vanity to throw whatever you’d need for the day in your small dumpling bag, including a box of Benadryl. “You’re not coming with us because you have cat all over you.”

Mark chuckles, leaning against the doorframe. “Donghyuck literally told me the same thing. He’s growing on you,”

You only hum in response, checking your bag for the last time before walking towards the door where Mark Lee is still leaning on, the same smirk playing on his lips still plastered.

“What?” you ask.

Mark doesn’t say anything, but he raises and shows you his right hand, sticking three fingers up.

먹었습니다 (meog-eossseubnida) - The meal was good.

Seoul National University’s library is as quiet as it can be; it’s almost scary how the only sounds you’d only hear are the faint sounds of pages being flipped and pens gliding on notepads, and the eerie echoes of the tension coming from students who are either cramming on an assignment or jumping from one subject to another in hopes of getting everything they read retained in their head.

Donghyuck used to tell you this is the exact reason why he didn’t like working at the library. It’s too quiet but too loud at the same time. You chuckle at the memory of him telling you anecdotes of his short-lived employment in the library and wonder how different it is being the soccer team’s laundry guy. He’s probably pouting all the way from the beginning of his shift until the end.

“Here,” Jung Sungchan disrupts your thoughts, keeping his voice as quiet as possible. “I found these, maybe it could help bridge the gap we’re struggling on.”

You and Sungchan are paired up for a two-week long assignment for one of your major subjects. The objective was to present a summarized and substantial report on the welfare state, and you think Sungchan must have tripped on all the bad luck in his life to have been paired up with someone who couldn’t speak Korean that well, because, well, the books they had are mostly in Korean. If speaking and understanding Korean is a struggle for you, reading the damn language is hell.

“This is a good thing,” Sungchan assures. “There are resources online that are mostly in English. We can combine everything we find and construct the report from there!”

You nod and hand over the book you’re reading before he arrived, explaining that you found a chapter that could be very helpful. The boy fires up his laptop and starts accessing the website your professor had recommended you to use.

Sat side by side, you and Sungchan study in silence, except for when he asks you to read an article for him and explain what it means. The session lasts for hours, thank God you and him didn’t have classes for the rest of the day, and within those hours of studying with Sungchan, you can’t help but notice the looks you were getting anytime someone passes by the two of you.

It’s no secret that Jung Sungchan is probably one of the most attractive men in the university. He’s tall and has skin that’s as clear as a day in summer, smile that could swoon a lot of people off their feet, broad shoulders that’s probably carrying the entire hockey team for this year’s season—and yes, it doesn’t help the fact that Jung Sungchan is the most popular jock at the moment, apparently for hard carrying the team to win last year’s trophy, ending Seoul National University’s 10-year drought and awakening the school’s love for sports back. And you think it’s quite unfair that people like him exist. Because you would expect that he’s an asshole who doesn’t care about his grades because he’s essentially SNU’s hero at the moment, but he’s not. Jung Sungchan, you learn, takes his degree in Social Sciences very seriously.

And it’s evident with the way his eyebrows are furrowed as he reads the tenth book he found from the shelves.

“I think this part makes more sense now,” he points out, leaning closer so he could show you the article he’s reading. “In residual regimes, welfare-seeking units are primarily family and market. On the other hand, in the institutional welfare regime, the function of providing welfare belongs directly to the state.”

“But countries with different social conditions and lifestyles should have differed in terms of welfare states,” you argue. “We have to consider that the development of industrialization and production growth could be very different from one country to another.”

Sungchan hums. “Good point. Perhaps we can find more of that from Wilensky and Lebaux’s work. Do you have the book over there?”

You nod and hand him the book. Just as Sungchan flips the book open, Mark occupies the seat across you.

“We’ve been calling you,” Mark whispers to you, then turning to look at Sungchan. “Hey, man. Mark. Y/N’s best friend.”

Sungchan gives him a polite nod before going back to the book. You raise an eyebrow at Mark and slip your phone from the pocket of your backpack and find all the missed calls from him, Renjun, and Donghyuck.

“My phone’s been on silent for like, I don’t know, four hours,” you tell him, slipping your phone back to your back. “And I texted you I’d be at the library.”

“Yeah, like four hours ago,” he answers. “I didn’t think you’d really stay here for four hours. Anyway—” Mark pulls out a lunch bag and slides it across the table. “Donghyuck made this for you. He figured you’d be hungry.”

It’s only then that it hit you. The last meal you had was that bagel you had for breakfast on the way to school, which you had seven or eight hours ago.

“My sweet Donghyuckie,” you coo, thankful for his thoughtfulness. “Thanks, Mark. Sungchan and I will share because we’ll be here until we finish at least the structure of the report.”

“It’s getting late though,” Mark points out.

Sungchan clears his throat. “I can drive you home.”

“Great!” Mark exclaims, which earns him multiple shushes from the other students studying. “Sorry. Great!” he says again, in a whisper this time.

Mark bids goodbye to you and offers a handshake to Sungchan, telling him he’ll see him often in the next two weeks or for as long as you and him are paired-up on your major subjects. Sungchan gives him one last assurance you’ll be home safe.

You ask Sungchan to take a break and open the lunch bag. Inside it are two bento boxes full of food, too much for one person, and you don’t take another minute to wait. Sungchan must have been hungry too, because he doesn’t refuse when you offer the other half of your meal to him.

You’re not really sure how much longer you and Sungchan stay in the library, but as soon as you’ve finalized the structure of the report and have agreed on assigned topics, he suggests that you and him go home and meet up again on Friday so you can start assembling the presentation. And as promised, Sungchan drives you home, glad when he realized your apartment is only ten minutes away from his.

It’s already ten in the evening when you reach home. Mark’s probably already sleeping, you think when you don’t see any light peaking from smallest of the small space between his door and the floor. It’s late anyway, and you don’t really have much energy to tell him about your day like you always do. In fact, you don’t even have the energy to shower anymore, and because you don’t like sleeping on your bed with your outside clothes, you opt to sleep on the couch tonight.

The last thing you do is shoot Donghyuck a text message: “The meal was good.”

삼각관계 (sam-gak-kwan-gae) – love triangle

Jung Sungchan invites you watch to one of his preliminary games the day after you completed the report with him. Mark teasingly tells you that you have boys wrapped around your finger not even two months living in Seoul. You deny the claims, of course, because Sungchan is nothing but a good friend and you don’t see him as anything more.

Donghyuck is the first person you think of when Sungchan gives you two spare tickets for the game, and you like to think that it’s only because you don’t want Mark teasing you and accusing you of romance all afternoon, and also because Donghyuck has a car and Mark is a shit navigator so you can’t trust him to commute with you from the university to the indoor arena where the game is being held.

SNU’s team wins, of course, and you proudly cheer for Sungchan, which earns you a side eye from Donghyuck. You shrug it off and pretend that you didn’t see.

“Can we go now?” Donghyuck asks, bored, when people start leaving the arena.

You shake your head. “Sungchan asked me to wait for him after the game.”

“You know that barbecue place I told you we’d go to?” Donghyuck reminds. “We can go there—“

Your phone rings. It’s Sungchan. Donghyuck sighs.

“Congratulations, nerd!” is the first thing you tell him. Sungchan thanks you, laughing from the other end of the call, and apologizes that he can no longer meet you because the team’s been hogging him the second they won the round.

“It’s fine,” you assure. “I’m with Donghyuck, anyway. I’ll see you at school?”

“No, no,” Sungchan answers. “There’s a small celebration party at Shotaro’s house. It’s a twenty to thirty-minute drive from your apartment. I’ll send you the location. Go there.”

Sungchan hangs up, and not even a second later, you receive a text from him, a location pinned on the message. You show the message and pout at Donghyuck, and he’s looking at you all bored, rolling his eyes, before nodding and taking your hand so you and him could leave the arena.

The drive to the place takes about an hour from the arena, and you spend it singing along to Michael Jackson’s songs.

“You have a really nice voice,” you comment. Donghyuck laughs.

“Baby,” he says. “I wouldn’t be pursuing a career in music if I had a shitty voice.”

The nickname gives you a flush, and you could only hope Donghyuck wouldn’t notice.

Almost two months into meeting Lee Donghyuck, you find yourself unable to keep your heartbeat down whenever he does things like this—calling you nicknames, randomly showing up in places where you are just to say hi, holding your hand, texting and calling you every day, spending his weekends and times off with you, and doing simple and domestic things for you—and your heart tells you it’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with a whirlwind romance in Seoul. Donghyuck doesn’t ever hesitate, and the fact that you’re holding back means you really like him. But the rational part of you says it’s not really a good idea to be in a situationship with someone who will most likely forget you as soon as you go back to Canada, and you can’t afford a heartache from miles away. Besides, Donghyuck probably isn’t that serious with whatever that’s going on.

Rumors say (by rumors, you mean Chenle and Jisung) that Donghyuck is the type of guy who dates one girl after another. Because he’s bold and charming and amiable and likes to expand his choices, and he finds that there’s nothing wrong with dating as long as he doesn’t date multiple women at the same time. You haven’t really seen him out on a date since you had met him. Rumor (Chenle) says that he’s been single since fall of last year and had committed to stay single this year because of the messy breakup and also because he’s on his last year of college, he’d need to focus on stepping up his game if he wants entertainment companies to fight over him as soon as he starts looking for agencies after graduation. Another rumor (Jisung) says he’s rejected many women who have tried to sleep with him since news broke that Lee Donghyuck is newly single. The rumor says he’s as popular as Jung Sungchan when it comes to women, which, if you’re being honest, gives you some kind of pedestal to walk hand-in-hand with him in the university grounds. You realize now that you get the same look from women when you’re with Donghyuck like the stares you got whenever you and Sungchan are stuck in the library for hours of studying.

The only difference is that, well, you like that people stare at you with a hint of jealousy whenever you’re with Donghyuck.

“Why haven’t you invited me to your gigs?” you ask before you could even think about it. “Sungchan’s only been friends with me for like three weeks and he already got me tickets to his game. You, on the other hand…”

The car halts to a slow stop, Donghyuck’s phone telling you that you’ve arrived at your location. Donghyuck doesn’t switch off the engine though. He chuckles licking his lips, then poking his tongue on his cheeks, fucking with your heart and hormones in the process. He keeps his hand on the steering wheel and turns to look at you, eyes hazed in attraction like he’s pulling you in.

“Baby,” he says in a whisper almost. “I don’t like love triangles.”

“Love… triangles?” you repeat.

“Love triangles,” he says in English. “I fucking hate it. And we’re not about to go through that trope in our love story here. So, let me make it clear before we go inside and before you even think about sticking to Sungchan all night.”

You gulp.

“There’s no Sungchan in the equation,” he states like a command and you find yourself nodding, agreeing. “It’s only you and me. Tonight, there will be a lot of people and none of them will be in the equation. Tonight, you’re sticking with me and we’ll talk about this tomorrow. Have fun with me and see if you want to take this to another level, because if you ask me, I’ve been dying to fucking kiss you since the semester began.”

This territory is new, and this Donghyuck is new, too. He’s always been affectionate and he’s never held back, but this new level of honesty is astonishing. Damn attractive if you’re being honest.

“Come here,” he says, ridding himself from his seatbelt. You do the same, leaning closer to him. Donghyuck holds your cheeks with both hands, smiling down at you before leaning in to kiss your forehead. “I’m not giving you mixed signals. This is me giving you a clear, direct sign that I like you and I like what we have, but I’d love to take another step. I’ve been thinking about it, and I don’t really want someone to enter the equation while I’m trying to woo you.”

You giggle. “You already successfully wooed the romance out of me the second you started holding my hand, Lee Donghyuck. And no, there won’t be love triangles.”

Donghyuck’s honesty fires up some courage in you, and you like the feeling of watching him falter when you lean in, hand on the back of his neck, and kiss him for the first time. The man melts in your kiss and in your touch, but doesn’t wait for another heartbeat to kiss you back. And despite of the bottled-up and eagerness from both sides, the first kiss is soft the first time, featherlike and sweet. His lips are even softer than they look and his lips already look plump as it is, and when Donghyuck licks your lips and invites himself in, God, he makes sure you taste the sweetness from his mouth and in a minute you’re addicted and you kiss and kiss and kiss, lips locking, tongue gliding, breaths gasping.

It’s him who pulls away, leaving you with dazed eyes wanting, wanting, wanting more.

Donghyuck gives you one last kiss on the forehead. “Let’s go.”

이렇게? (ireoke) – Like this?

You don’t end up seeing Sungchan at all in the party, and you don’t mind because Donghyuck keeps you glued to his side. The party is fun, but you and Donghyuck decide not to drink a single drop of alcohol. To him, it’s because he has to drive. To you, it’s because you want to be entirely sober to remember whatever happens tonight.

Donghyuck makes out with you in the corner of the living room where people are crumpled, and you like that he doesn’t care that people see. He holds you by the waist and on your neck, and you get it now. You get why women are lining up to sleep with Donghyuck, because if he can kiss like this, what else can he do with his mouth?

You shoot a message to Sungchan with a selfie of you and Donghyuck, thanking him for inviting you to the party and telling him you’ll see him on your next class together (Donghyucks suggests you send Sungchan a picture of you and him making out.) and prompt to leave. Donghyuck says goodbye to a few people he knew, holding you by the waist all the way from the house to where his car is parked.

Donghyuck drives you to his apartment and tells you he’s told Mark you’d be sleeping at his place tonight. The drive itself was intense enough and Donghyuck’s doing an amazing job keeping his cool while you’re practically sweating from the passenger’s seat.

You don’t even get a good look at his apartment when you arrive, because Donghyuck’s already kissing you as he rids himself of his jacket. Donghyuck doesn’t kiss you softly this time; he kisses you like he’s leaving a mark on your mouth, almost like he wants to bruise his presence inside you. He helps you get slip out of your jacket, pulling away quickly to kick his shoes off, before carrying you bridal style and bringing you to his room, kicking the door behind.

Despite the roughness of his kisses, he puts you to bed gently, ridding himself of his shirt and kneeling on the floor so he could help you out of your socks. He leans up once he’s done, one hand on your jaw to pull you down for another kiss, the other caressing your thigh.

“Please tell me this is okay,” he whispers. You nod. “I need your words, baby.”

“Yes, Donghyuck,” you answer, breathless when he starts kissing your neck. “This is okay. Please touch me.”

Donghyuck pushes you a little so half of your body is lying on his bed, your feet flat on his carpeted floor, tugging the loops of your jeans, urging you to lift your hips so he can rid you out of the material. He pulls you back up to take your shirt off from your torso, then he’s helping you back up from the edge of the bed towards the headboard as he crawls on top of you.

“Donghyuck,” you gasp when he goes back to kissing you. You realize that Donghyuck like kissing with the way he’s using his mouth to imprint his presence in you, his tongue licking everywhere it can reach inside your mouth, and he tastes like mint and the soda he had at the party, and he’s everything that you want. “Touch me, please.”

“Like this?” Donghyuck reaches down to rub your clit through the material of your underwear. He rubs slow, teasingly, and kisses you on the mouth when you groan. He dips his head lower and kisses your neck; he bites and nips and sucks and you’re sure it’s leaving a mark you’d have to conceal the next day. “Want me to touch you like this, baby?”

A moan elicits from your throat, and Donghyuck doesn’t waste any more time. He slips his warm hand between your skin and your underwear, really touching you, rubbing your clit gently, his digits dragging itself on your slit slowly, gathering your wetness then going back to rub your clit again, more roughly with the pool of wetness his fingers have now.

“Like this?” he asks again, pushing a finger inside when he finds your hole, urging another moan from your lips.

“Oh my God, Donghyuck,” you gasp when he fingers you gently, your wetness making a sound when he adds another finger. Donghyuck takes his time, biting his lips as he watches you writhe underneath his touch.

“Pull your bra down,” he breathes out, and you do. When your breasts are out on the open, Donghyuck doesn’t waste time and locks lips with your nipple, sucking and licking as he fingers the sanity out of you. He alternates from fingering you with two digits and rubbing you using his thumb, and you’re all putty and messy under him, and you want more, more, more, more.

“Baby, please fuck me,” you beg. “Please, Donghyuck. Please fuck me”

Donghyuck hushes you. “I will, baby. I’ll fuck you so well, you’ll come running back to me tomorrow and the day after, and the day after.”

But he doesn’t. He pulls his fingers out, hold you by your jaw so you could lock eyes while he licks the proof of your attraction to him from his fingers, sucking and showing you just how well he could use his tongue. He doesn’t fuck you get but he rids you of the last garments from your body and does the fucking impossible.

Donghyuck eats you out like it’s the last meal he’ll ever have. He swirls his tongue on your clit as he pushes his digits back in your hole, fingering you like it’s all he’s ever wanted, and he’s got you chanting his name like a prayer when his tongue laps your sex, even more when he replaces his fingers with his tongue. You’re writhing and screaming and Donghyuck’s holding your legs apart while he pleasures you with his mouth and hands.

You don’t want to cum yet, but Donghyuck’s so, so good, and it looks like he’s not stopping anytime soon. He tongues you back to your clit and fingers you with three digits, fast and rough.

“Donghyuck, I’m going to—” You see white and stars and you stay still when Donghyuck continues fingering you, moving all three fingers in an upward motion, reaching where you want him the most, mouth sucking your clit as you ride the first orgasm you’ve had in months.

Donghyuck lets you have your moment when it’s done, taking the time to lick the slick wetness from his fingers down to his wrist, kneeling between your legs. You push yourself up so that you’re sitting with your legs wide open, your palms flat on his sheets, head tilted for a kiss. Donghyuck leans over and kisses you again, and you never thought you’d like tasting yourself in his tongue. You guess everything tastes sweeter when it’s in Donghyuck’s mouth.

“Off, please,” you murmur, pulling the loops from his jeans. Donghyuck obeys, removing all pieces of clothing until he’s naked.

You marvel at his beauty, licking your lips when you finally see him bare and clean. His golden skin looks like honey and you want to kiss the fuck out of his collarbones and leave your mark for everyone to see. Your eyes travel from his chest down to the trail from his tummy down to his erect cock. He’s hard and red and you salivate from how big he looks and feel yourself getting even more wet at the thought of him fucking you. Before you know it, you’re reaching out, moving so you could kneel, and taking his hardness in your hand. Donghyuck moans for the first time tonight, and you plan to elicit that sound from him all night.

Stroking him slowly, you feel a rush of satisfaction when Donghyuck pants your name. “Oh my God,” he moans when you bend over, a palm flat on his sheets, your other hand stroking him as you take him to your mouth. He gathers your hair and watches you from above, and you purposely stick your ass up higher when you feel him twitch as you take more of his cock into your mouth. When you’re about halfway, you stroke the rest of what you can’t take and start sucking and licking, and Donghyuck makes the absolute best sound ever. You like his voice when he sings, but you don’t think anything could compare with how he’s whining your name as you suck his dick thoroughly, licking and jerking off whatever your mouth couldn’t fit. A part of you wants to ask Donghyuck to fuck your mouth, bruise your throat with his dick and cum straight down your fucking stomach if he wants to, but that could be arranged next time. This time, with his dick hard and wet from your mouth, you want him to fuck you.

You suck him one last time before you pull away, a string of your saliva following when you look up at Donghyuck. “Now, will you fuck me?”

Donghyuck looks fucked out, eyes dazed with lust, and you want nothing more than for him to ruin you. And Donghyuck doesn’t need to be asked twice.

He crawls back up until you’re lying on your back, legs wide open for him, and kneels between your legs. “Ready and sure?” he asks for the last time, stroking himself.

“Pull out when you cum,” is all you say and Donghyuck goes for it. He gives you a kiss and rests one of his forearms beside your arm, massaging the head of his cock on your opening until he’s stretching you out.

“Fuck,” Donghyuck groans when he feels your tightness. “God damn, Y/N, when was the last time you got fucked?”

“I—I can’t remember,” you say. “None of them were worth remembering.”

“And me?” Donghyuck asks as he pushes deeper until he’s fully stretched you and his pelvis is leaning against your clit. “Will you remember me?”

“Ask me next time,” you breathe out. “I think you’ll have to fuck me every day so I can remember.”

Donghyuck gives you some time, kissing you softly. “When was the last time you fucked anyone?” you ask in return.

“I can’t remember,” he parrots. “None of them were worth remembering. All I know is that this is the first time I’m feeling someone raw.” Then he bottoms out, gives you only half a second before he’s thrusting back and out and back and out and back and out, slowly but surely fucking you well.

Donghyuck fucks you like he means it. His hips snap roughly but makes sure you feel all of him before he thrusts out and he’s everywhere. His tongue is in your mouth, then on your neck, his free hand is caressing one of your breasts, playing with your nipples, and he’s making you feel so, so good and you’re not sure how you go back from here. You’re not sure how you could go on with life knowing how well Donghyuck can fuck you. He’s got you squirming and reaching your second orgasm only minutes into fucking the life out of you.

When you’re close, Donghyuck pushes himself up so that he’s kneeling again, and lifts both your legs, resting your calves on either side of his shoulders, hugging your legs so he can fuck you deeper in this angle. The precision makes you chant his name over and over again and he takes one of his hands down to rub your clit. You try your best to hold back from cumming because the way he’s fucking you now feels so damn good that you want it to last for a long time. He thrusts in and out quickly, his balls hitting the bottom of your ass again and again.

“Come for me, baby,” he says. “Let go.”

So, you do, and Donghyuck keeps on fucking you through it. Donghyuck lets you finish, before he’s pushing the back of your knees down so your thighs are pressed up against your stomach, chasing his own orgasm, and fucks you hard, without rhythm, until he is moaning your name like praise and he’s pulling out so he could release on your stomach. You reach up to caress his cheek as you watch him in awe as he finishes, his face contorted in pleasure, lips wet and eyes closed.

When it’s done, Donghyuck kisses you on the forehead and helps you clean up. He leaves to go to the bathroom for a minute to grab a warm, wet towel, cleaning your stomach, and carries you back to the bathroom with him. The shower is warm, and Donghyuck is gentle and sweet when he cleans you up, giving you kisses when he pats you dry once he’s gotten rid of the shampoo and body wash from your hair and skin. Donghyuck tells you there’s a spare toothbrush on behind the mirror and washes himself as you brush your teeth, naked but warm.

Donghyuck tells you to that the right side of his closet is where you can find the clothes he uses at home and you follow as he finishes cleaning himself up. You take the liberty to take one of his shirts that are still too big for you despite Donghyuck’s frame and slip a pair of cotton shorts.

Donghyuck finds you half-asleep when he’s done showering; he sleeps shirtless, you reckon, because he crawls to bed only in sweatpants. He cuddles you from behind, kissing the clothed shoulder, and the last thing you hear before you drift off to sleep is him humming a song your mind can’t recognize and a promise that you’ll talk about this the next day.

You wake up to the smell of Spam, an empty space beside yours, and the sound of Donghyuck singing a song from BOL4, which you learned is one of his favorite musicians.

Donghyuck smiles warmly at you when you find him in the kitchen, just about to finish pan-frying the last piece of sliced luncheon meat. He’s still shirtless, but is wearing a cute pink apron, and he gives you a quick kiss on the lips like it’s the most natural thing ever. The second his lips pull away from yours, you reach up and touch where he kissed, lips tingling—in disbelief that what happened last night is real.

“Good morning,” he hums. “Just in time for breakfast.”

“Donghyuck,” you trail off. “Can we talk first?”

Donghyuck nods, offering that you sit on the high stool across the small kitchen island. He sits next to you, turning the seat so that you’re face to face, knees touching. “What do we want to do?” he asks.

“You know I’m leaving in like, four months, right?” you start.

Donghyuck whistles. “We just started and you’re already breaking up with me?”

“No, no,” you say, exhaling. “This… this. I like. You. I like.”

“Baby, construct your sentences properly,” he laughs.

“I like you,” you confess. “And I like this. I like holding your hands. And kissing you. And what we did last night. I’m just worried because—”

“Because you’re leaving,” he finishes for you. “I know, but I also like you a lot. More than you probably think. And I don’t want to miss my chance getting to know you more just because you’re leaving in a few months. I don’t know what you want, but here’s what I want, you let me know if it works for you, if not, then I’ll still be a friend. Who might cry for two weeks straight if you reject me.”

You laugh but urge him to continue.

“I want to date you, and get to know you even more. Your quirks, the things that make you angry, your comfort food, the movies that give you the ick,” he continues. “Your family, how you were raised, if you like Marvel or DC more, what Hogwarts house you belong to, if you like pineapple in pizza or not, whether you pour milk or cereal first, if you ever kissed Mark Lee, if Mark Lee’s ever had a crush on you.”

“What does Mark have—”

“Shh,” he stops. “It’s my turn. Talk later. Anyway, I want this—” he gestures the space between you and him. “And I want you. I want to keep teaching you the language and I know what’s ahead of us is scary, and there’s only two things that could happen: this is going to be either the biggest heartbreak of my life or you’re going to be the greatest love of my life. It’s a fifty-fifty chance, Y/N. Let’s just say I’m willing to risk whatever if it means I have 50% the chances of having you as the greatest love of my life.”

Oh. You don’t realize you’re staring quietly until Donghyuck holds your hand.

“Now tell me,” he asks slowly. “What do you want?”

You don’t hesitate. “I want you, Lee Donghyuck.”

일어날 수 있는 최악의 상황은 무엇입니까? il-eonal su issneun choeag-ui sanghwang-eun mueos-ibnikka? What’s the worst that could happen?

It doesn’t come out as a surprise to anyone when you and Donghyuck arrive at Arcade holding hands, a shy smile playing on your lips, a proud one in Donghyuck’s. You were thankful that there were no teasing remarks coming from your friends—that they were taking this so well, like it’s normal. Like it’s meant to happen anyway. There’s a knowing smirk on Mark’s stupid face, but you love him and you can’t wait to tell him all about how you feel towards Donghyuck. “Okay, so my birthday falls on a weekend,” Jeno announces. “And I think it’s the best time to go to the amusement park. Will you have work then, Renjun-ah?”

“Most likely,” Renjun answers, mouth full of food as he chews on a bite of pizza. “But I can have Yerim cover for me. I’ll just return the favor if she needs me one day.”

“Sweet!” Jeno exclaims. “So, it’s decided then. We’ll go to the amusement park on my birthday.”

As you and Donghyuck play footsie under the table, Mark stands, turning to you. “I’m going to get another milkshake. Come with me?”

You nod, kicking Donghyuck one last time and standing to follow your best friend. Somehow, you feel bad for not saying anything about your growing feelings for Donghyuck, considering that Mark is your best friend in the entire universe and you’re his. If it were him, he would’ve told you the second he caught feelings to anyone. But Mark knows you’re not the kind to admit feelings like this as soon as it starts inflating in your chest; he knows you’re the type to hold it in until you can’t anymore. Having had terrible relationships in the past, Mark has always known that you’re the kind to be careful.

“I didn’t think you’d actually go for it,” Mark says as soon as you and him are out of earshot. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy for you. I just didn’t expect this to happen so quickly.”

“Me neither,” you mumble under your breath. “Sorry for not saying anything.”

Mark chuckles. “You didn’t have to. I mean, we all kinda always known this would happen. I just couldn’t imagine how you and Donghyuck sealed it so quickly, like considering how shy and quiet you always were whenever he was around.”

“I was shy and quiet with everyone around,” you remark. “Donghyuck taught me all these slangs and now I can’t stop talking.”

The woman in the counter asks you what she can help you with when you reach her. Mark tells his order alongside some sides Renjun had asked him to get. He leans on the counter, turning back to you. “Anyway.”

“Yeah?”

“I think you’re serious serious.” Mark clears his throat. “Like, I’ve known you for so long and you’ve always been hesitant to do shit. I’ve always been the spontaneous and reckless one between us, and you’re the careful one. The one who thinks everything through before deciding on it—this trip to Seoul included on the long list.”

“Your point is?” you ask, even though you know exactly where this is going.

Mark licks his lips before continuing: “What I’m saying is, you’ve never been this certain so quickly.”

That’s right. Not to be cliché or whatever, but this is normally how it goes for you. Relationships used to be difficult for you—from the pining to the confession to its climax to its end, until the bargaining and acceptance—and you’d never been the type to go through things so quickly and easily. With Donghyuck, you’d somehow done it backwards (and Mark doesn’t need to know that you slept with Donghyuck before you even sealed the damn relationship) but for some reason, you had forgotten how you’re supposed to act around people you like romantically. It scares the shit out of you, the connection between you and Donghyuck, but you’ve always been a firm believer that if it doesn’t scare you, it probably isn’t something worth doing. It feels like jumping from a cliff, to the bottom of the unknown, and it’s new, but it makes your heart pound like never before.

“I don’t want to get ahead and say something that’d make you change your mind somehow, because I also like you and Donghyuck together,” he explains when you only stare at him. “But, as your best friend, with the best intentions only, please don’t go breaking your heart before we leave, yeah?”

You nod, understanding and appreciating Mark’s sentiment. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Mark shrugs. “We won’t really know. Take care, yeah?”

You smile stepping closer to hug Mark. “I love you, you know that, right?” he asks. You nod, your face buried on his chest. “Good. I’ll beat Donghyuck’s ass if he hurts you in anyway.”

“I sure hope you do,” you reply, just in time for the staff to call Mark’s attention, the tray of his order ready for him.

Donghyuck is pouting when you return, asking why you and Mark took too long because the seat beside him is all cold now. You kiss him on the cheek and tell him Mark just told you he’s beating his ass if you’re hurt in anyway.

“Mark can’t hurt a fly,” Donghyuck remarks. “What makes you think he can hurt me, huh?”

Mark scoffs. “You’ll be the first.”

계절과 계절 사이 (gyejeolgwa gyejeol sai) – between seasons

When the seasons start to change—from the rainy, cold spring transition to a warm, sunny summer—you and Donghyuck change, too.

From the euphoric blooming of your relationship—the playful dates, the passionate moments in his bedroom (because ever since Mark adopted that cat, Donghyuck could never stay at your place for longer than an hour), the heart-warming feeling of seeing him waiting for your after your class—to the warm, comfortable attachment stage, you feel like you know Donghyuck in a deeper sense now.

The small notebook he’d given you at the beginning of the term is halfway full, its pages messily scribbled with phrase and sentences you had learned—likewise the memories those words carry—and soon enough you find yourself more comfortable with the language, and eventually with Seoul. You find yourself enjoying, and not in a way that makes you think you’d want to visit again soon.

The journey with Seoul was initially a play to learn the language and its beautiful culture: a detour. A diversion from your plans. A stop while you figure out what you want in life. Your last year in university is supposed to be the year you finally decide what to do next. Visiting Seoul was an opportunity for you to really get to know yourself beyond your comfort zone, to really challenge your capabilities, to learn beyond what your hometown had in store for you.

But these days do not feel like Seoul is a place to visit.

In a way, liberating albeit frightening, you find yourself thinking that perhaps Seoul is a place to build a home in. The home is built from arms that hold you on days when it’s extra cold, your nose red and hands frozen, and its shelter is made from Donghyuck’s warm smile and the assurance of him being there for you. And right now, while you sit closely together at the back of your friend’s car, their obnoxiously loud voices singing to some pop song along the radio, you feel it: home.

Jeno likes the phone case you had customized for him, and he gives you a big, bear hug as soon as he take a peek of what’s inside your present.

“I love you. I literally love you with all my being,” he dramatically says as he squishes you.

“That’s my girlfriend, you idiot,” Donghyuck complains, pulling Jeno’s arms away from you. With the way you three are seated at the back of Renjun’s car, you sitting in between them, it’s uncomfortable and Donghyuck insists on taking part of the little moment you’re having with Jeno.

Jeno whines, “Let me love her. This is the best gift ever!”

Donghyuck ends up puffing air out of his mouth, pouting and leaning back so Jeno could hug you. You’re laughing and Jeno whispers how easily they could make him sulk these days because you’re around.

Mark, who’s sitting on the passenger seat beside Renjun, announces you’ve arrived at the amusement park, just as Jaemin’s car halts to a slow stop behind you.

It’s the first time you’ve ever visited the famous amusement park in Seoul, and Mark looks excited with the way he’s jumping as you line up for the tickets. Donghyuck has his arm around you, taking pictures with his other hand. The rest are chattering, talking about the rides they’d love to try.

The secretly group decides to stick together for the entire day to celebrate Jeno’s day, despite the birthday boy himself telling everyone they can go wherever they want to. You could see how much they really care about one another and they all just hide it in their mean, vile jokes. For example, the man who has his arm wrapped around you likes teasing Jeno like it’s his full-time job, but is hiding a birthday present inside the trunk of Renjun’s car (and would most likely give it before you all head home, act like his best friend’s birthday isn’t that much of a big deal).

Most of the day is spent following Jeno around, whatever ride he wanted to try and your ears ringing because of how loud Donghyuck is screaming. The temperature has gone from freezing cold to warm, the humidity making it a little harder for everybody to move around under the warmth of the sun.

“I never realized how much of a scaredy cat you are, Donghyuckie,” you tease as soon as you walk out of the roller coaster ride. “Not much of a tough guy now, huh?”

Donghyuck whines, “I liked you better when the words you spoke were only yes and no.”

Mark laughs, slapping Donghyuck on the back. “Oh man, that was really good.”

“Yeah?” You rebut. “And I liked you better when you weren’t screaming like a kid.”

Donghyuck smirks, “And I like you better when you’re screaming my name.”

Renjun and Jisung cough in disgust, and Mark just straight up slapped the back of Donghyuck’s head. “You two are disgusting. I can’t believe I live with you, Y/N.”

Donghyuck laughs, turning to you. “It’s pretty hot. Want me to go grab you a can of soda? Ice cold water?”

“Water, please,” you say. Donghyuck nods and gives you a quick kiss on the cheek before pulling Chenle with him and walking to the opposite side where a small shop is. In the meantime, the rest of you occupy the benches under a shade, Jeno asking which ride to go next.

Donghyuck and Chenle return in a matter of time, bottles of drinks in their hands. They give everyone their preferred drinks, Donghyuck sitting beside Mark and extending an arm so he could hand you your drink from his side.

“Fucking summer,” Donghyuck curses. “I hate summer.”

Renjun raises an eyebrow. “Suddenly?”

“It’s not even summer yet,” Jaemin points out. “What happened to you? You’ve always been so excited about summer.”

“It’s so hot. I can’t stand this fucking temperature,” Donghyuck mumbles.

Renjun scoffs. “You start planning our summer getaway as early as March.”

“It’s already April and you have nothing yet,” Jisung points out.

“Yeah, what the hell, man. I hate your ridiculous ideas, but we can’t survive summer without you,” Jeno adds, then looks at Mark. “Yo, Mark, what about you? What are you doing this summer?”

You and Mark freeze, looking at each other for a second, before the latter speaks for you both: “We’re, uh, we’re supposed to go home.”

It seems like Jeno didn’t know the weight of his question because he apologizes as soon as he realizes it. The group falls into silence, no one says anything, or perhaps nobody could think of anything to say, not even you or Mark.

With your days in Seoul numbered, you realize now that you haven’t really talked about it—not you and Mark, not you and Donghyuck—and it never really felt real. You had always told yourself you’ll cross the bridge when you get there, and the bridge is nearby.

Donghyuck clears his throat. “The sun’s going to kill me. I think I saw a burger joint that has an air-conditioning system down the corner of that street. Shall we go there?”

Everybody agrees and stand to leave. Donghyuck holds your hand, pulling you close and steals a kiss on your cheek. The gesture makes your heart flutter. Donghyuck is warm, but not in the way the sun is hot right now—in a way that gets you thinking: can this warmth reach Vancouver?

Your skin hurts when the sunlight hits you. You hate summer.

오해 하지마 (ohae hajima) – Don’t misunderstand

Donghyuck had a face that looked like what an artist would draw in a whim—spontaneously—like it was done in a rush, like a portrait from a park done by a street artist, something done with a pencil. Ink stains are harder to wash off, and anyway, figments aren’t mean to last—and he’s almost unrecognizable in this light.

You can’t recognize him on the night of his birthday.

His Mother had gone above and beyond and invited all of their closest relatives and family friends for his 23rd birthday, and it’s also your first time meeting them.

It’s nerve-wracking to say the least, but his Mother smiles at you kindly when she greets you from the entrance of the restaurant they rented for the evening. You could tell his family was wealthy, and it makes sense because Donghyuck got the most bare minimum job he could find, and it’s most likely because he doesn’t need to get one; he probably only got one so he could talk about work, too, just like the rest of his friends.

The birthday party is a surprise and it was Renjun who connected with everyone to make sure they attend here tonight. You had to make up some excuse to Donghyuck when he asked why you can’t join him for dinner with his family tonight and had promised to make it up to him the day after.

You’re sat in the same table as Mark, Renjun, Jeno, and Jaemin, a bit far away from Donghyuck’s family’s table, as you wait for the birthday boy, your present sitting on top of the round table. Mark talks about his cat, letting Jaemin watch snippets of his pet from his phone, and Renjun is narrating a story about his “ridiculous and absurd encounter with Liu Yangyang (and you and Jeno can’t pass up the opportunity to tease him about it).

Then, someone comes sit beside Jaemin, the boys gasping when they see her.

Karina is beautiful, and even saying that isn’t enough to describe the woman’s beauty. Soft-spoken and brilliant, Karina naturally allows everyone to gravitate towards her. All, including yourself, are pulled like magnet when she arrived. Jeno introduces you and you allow yourself to throw a quick and inaudible “hello” when she reaches over and asks you how you are.

Donghyuck’s Mother almost screams when she sees Karina, excitement filling up the air as she hugs her and thanks her for attending.

“I wouldn’t miss Hyuckie’s birthday for the world, eommoni,” Karina answers, and before you could ask Renjun how she’s related to Donghyuck, Jisung, who’s seated in another table with Donghyuck’s younger siblings, announces that the birthday man himself has arrived.

Donghyuck enters the hall, surprised and happy when he sees everyone, a dramatic cry leaving his lips as everyone greets him happy birthday. He feigns complaint, whining that he’s no longer eight years old, but hugs his parents anyway.

His parents thank everyone for joining a precious day and celebrating their eldest son’s birthday with them. Donghyuck bows and starts to go around to thank people.

You don’t recognize Donghyuck when he finally reaches your table and he gives you small smile, hugging you quickly before moving on to the next person. You don’t recognize Donghyuck when he goes to Karina, lifting her as he hugs her tightly, and thanking her for being able to come. You don’t recognize Donghyuck when his Mother joins the little reunion and he laughs when his Mother jokes about them missing each other too much.

“She’s the one who left me all alone here in Seoul,” Donghyuck pouts. “We wouldn’t have missed each other this much if you had stayed!”

“Don’t be such a drama queen, Hyuckie,” Karina says, rolling her eyes. “You visited me in Tokyo literally six months ago.”

Six months ago, which means, it was right before you arrived in Seoul.

You want to be anywhere else but here, and you don’t want to listen any further, but the scenario runs like a comedy show and the punch line is you.

“You two better decide whatever the hell you want to do with your lives by the end of the year,” Donghyuck’s Mother comments. “I mean, no one’s stopping you from moving to Tokyo, Donghyuck. You and Karina can rekindle whatever light was burnt last year. I’m glad you stayed best of friends despite the long distance. You’ve always made a great couple.”

Your breath hitches like your lungs had just been punch. Donghyuck, it seems, finally remembers you’re watching this unfold. Mark holds you, and bless him because your legs feel like they’re about to give up. You and Donghyuck make eye contact, but you don’t recognize him at all.

“Eomma,” Donghyuck clears his throat. Everything else he’s said come out like a blur, and Mark is just holding you close.

“Don’t misunderstand,” Renjun whispers closely. “They’re just friends.”

You don’t recognize Donghyuck when he watches you leave.

천천히 말씀해 주세요 (chun-chun-hee mal-sseum-heh ju-seh-yo) - Please speak slowly | 집 (jib) - home

Karina turns out to be the one that got away. The one true love. The greatest love. The childhood best friend who’s always been there. The leading woman. She turns out to be the protagonist in Donghyuck’s story.

You learn all of these from Renjun. Even when he refused to say a single word and had begged for you to talk to Donghyuck instead, you learn the truth by asking Mark to ask Renjun.

Donghyuck and Karina. Karina and Donghyuck. Two peas in a pod. A tight knit. Knowing each other like the back of their hands. A buy one, get one kind of deal. Where one is, the other would follow. And everyone and their moms know that it has always been like that, will always be like that.

Donghyuck and Karina, born on the same year, grew up in the same small village in Jeju island. Having been inseparable since, they ended up moving to Seoul together in high school. Donghyuck’s parents were supportive of Donghyuck pursuing a career in music, and they believed that moving to Seoul was the first step for their beloved son to find his spotlight. Karina’s parents, however, couldn’t afford moving alongside the Lee family despite wanting to support their daughter, too. Donghyuck begged his parents to have Karina move in with them so her parents would only worry about paying her tuition and allowances. The Lee family agreed, of course, because Donghyuck and Karina were fifteen, and they were the best team the world has ever known.

Karina is a talented dancer, and with a face like hers, it would be a shame to keep her in a small town in Jeju island. Her moving to Seoul had been the first step to her early success, because as soon as she reached puberty and had gained a butt and a pair of breasts, agencies were scouting her, creepily waiting for her outside of hers and Donghyuck’s high school. She’d declined, of course, with a promise to Donghyuck that they’d go to stardom together, but Donghyuck wanted to study and make music, and he felt as though he needed to go to college for that.

Karina eventually moved to another dormitory when she started training. Donghyuck moved downtown to start college. They were in different places, but they were still inseparable.

Pretty much every day Donghyuck would meet up with Karina when she started training; if not, then he’d be on Facetime with her during the hours when she’s not working. He had brought her to SNU many times, and they had started dating by the time Donghyuck is in his second year. All the other guys know Karina and her place in Donghyuck’s life. Somehow, a bitter part of you feels betrayed that none of them ever mentioned about Donghyuck’s great love, but you can’t really blame them for not saying anything.

They broke up on the latter months of last year because Karina had to move to Tokyo. There was no big fight apparently, just the decision that it’s most likely not going to work because—listen to this; this is the biggest punch line of this comedy show—Donghyuck can’t handle long distance.

You had answered one of Donghyuck’s calls by mistake. He’s mad for some reason, perhaps angry of the fact that you’re ignoring him and he doesn’t have much control like he normally does.

“Y/N, for fuck’s sake, why haven’t you answered?” he had cried out as soon as you answered.

“I was busy,” was all you could come up with. You brain had not been working good enough to translate things to Korean.

“What do you mean you were busy?” he had asked, voice loud and angry. “You literally disappeared on me! On my fucking birthday! And I’m done playing nice and cool because this is unfair. Whatever the fuck you’re doing is unfair you’re not letting me in. If you could just let me explain, things—”

“Please speak slowly.”

“—would be easier for the two of us. Whatever Karina and I had, it’s been over since last year. It’s over way before I met you. I never thought of her, not even for a goddamn second since we got together. I wouldn’t fucking betray you like that—”

“I can’t understand you.”

“—and I can’t believe you don’t trust me enough to let me at least tell you what happened! I never mentioned her because I never even thought about her! My Mother doesn’t know anything! I’ve wanted you to meet my Mother for a long time, but given our situation, a fucking time bomb ticking, I didn’t know if it was too early to go to that stage.”

“Time bomb?” you had asked, repeating the syllables slowly. “What’s that?”

Donghyuck sighed on the other line. “The thing that explodes at a predetermined time.”

“Oh, a time bomb,” you asked in English, chuckling. “That, we are.”

“Huh?”

“We’re a fucking time bomb,” you said, again in English, because if Donghyuck could keep talking in his mother tongue without considering if you’d understand a single word, so could you. “We’re ticking and we’re just waiting for this shit to explode. And I can’t wait and watch myself burn, Donghyuck. I can’t.”

“Please speak slowly,” he pleaded in Korean. You don’t.

“This isn’t going to work,” you responded, still in your mother tongue. “Maybe this is a clear sign for us, Donghyuck. Goodbye.”

Mark finds you crying on floor of your living, your back leaning on the feet of the couch, two weeks after Donghyuck’s birthday.

The first week, you had convinced your friends you were fine and that you just needed time. Donghyuck’s been reaching out to everybody, and Mark, being the best friend he is, lies regarding your whereabouts every time Donghyuck visits.

You don’t know how many calls Donghyuck had tried to make and how many text messages he’d left because you had completely abandoned your phone for the last couple of weeks and only relied on your computer to check any e-mails from your professors.

“I’m sorry,” Mark says, and you feel a rush of relief when he talks to you in English. You’ve had enough of Korean and Korean men these days. “It sucks, man. I don’t even know what to say. I’m so fucking disappointed with Donghyuck.”

“Shouldn’t you be more disappointed with me?” you sniffle. “I should have listened to you. We were moving too fast.”

Mark shakes his head, pulling you closer so that your head is resting on his shoulder. “I couldn’t blame you. Donghyuck’s charming, and I genuinely thought he was in love with you. I mean, I could say is, because I really think he’s sorry about everything.”

“We didn’t even get to properly break up,” you cry. “Our flight back home is in like, two weeks. I was supposed to talk to him and decide what we’d do with our relationship. For his birthday, I made a stupid mixtape that he could keep in his car and a very expensive and fucking cheesy set of touch lamps I found online for whenever he would miss me. And I keep making stupid letters like a fucking idiot so I could leave him with a bunch of poorly constructed letters just so he knows how much I’ll fucking miss him.”

Mark stays silent as you sob your heart out.

“And can you believe I actually thought it’d work?” you say, exasperated. “I’m so fucking sorry to myself. I’m just glad it’s over before I did shit I’d regret later on.””

“Shit like?” Mark asks.

You sigh, sniffling and screaming internally because the tears would stop. “I was already looking into internships here. For my last semester in college. I had already decided to decline the internship they were offering back home—thank God I haven’t sent that e-mail from my drafts—and I’ve found really good companies here. And if I’m lucky, I was thinking of moving here after college.”

Mark clicks his tongue. “All because of Donghyuck?”

“Because he feels like home, Mark,” you reason out. “He’s warm, and I can’t believe I’m admitting this now, but I love him. I love him so fucking much.”

“Oh, Y/N.”

“And we would have been happy. I would’ve done everything I could,” you confess. “And this fucking language barrier will be the death of me, but I would’ve learned more. I’d be an expert by the end of the year. And now, this whole Karina thing made me realize how much more I need to know about him.”

Mark holds you closer as though holding you would make things better. “When we were kids,” he starts. “Whenever I told you stories about how much I miss all the people I had to leave behind whenever we had to move from one country to another, one state to another, you’d always tell me to never build houses out of people.”

You remember. You always admired how Mark could move from one place to another, his suitcase and the ghost of the friendships he made following his trail, and he’s always told you about the loneliness it comes with.

“You used to tell me shelters aren’t supposed to be made of arms wrapped around you on a cold night, or hands that hold you when you’re feeling lonely,” he continues. “And I can’t blame you, because humans are known not to follow their own advice. But I hope you find home in things you’d never lose.”

You nod. “I’m sorry for breaking rule number three.”

“You’ll get over him,” he assures. “If you decide to really end things here, I mean. I’m sure you can get over him. It’s easier to get over people when you don’t see him.”

You nod, “Let’s go home, Mark.”

“Back home?”

You smile. “Yes. Back home.”

갈망 (galmang) - longing

It’s Giselle who picks you up from the airport.

You reunite like old friends, but Giselle really didn’t change that much. Even the weather didn’t change much. The same old. You wish you could say the same to yourself.

The flight to Vancouver was the most painful ten hours of your life, both literally and figuratively. It was hard watching your friends bid you goodbye, and you could tell they were dreading your departure as much as you and Mark were. Mark assures them you and him would save up to visit them again this year and as much as you’d wanted to stay, your student visa would allow you only six months. Mark promises he’d work on a tourist visa or whatever because despite being 100% ethnically Korean, but legally, he can’t just visit whenever he wants.

The pain from your breakup with Donghyuck is nothing compared to seeing Mark leave his friends again. You know how much they mean to him, and by extension, how much they mean to you regardless of what happened before your departure.

The head of student exchange program sends you warm greetings through text, followed by a series of messages from your friends and family. You’re glad Giselle had decided to pick you up from the airport, because you don’t think you’re in a good state to pretend like you’re okay, and Giselle knows.

Of course, she knows.

Giselle’s been your anchor during your last weeks in Seoul. Mark reckons that if anyone would understand you best during this time, it would be Giselle. After all, she’d gone through the same thing.

Like Mark, Giselle moved to Seoul with her parents for a few years. She had a similar experience with Mark, considering that her parents are constantly moving around—from Japan to South Korea then to Vancouver. Giselle was only in Seoul for two years before her parents moved back to Vancouver again, and in between those years she had met Kevin Moon, the love of her life.

They have been dating for almost four years now, two of those years, they dated long distance.

“How’d you make it work?” you had asked Giselle over Facetime once.

“It wasn’t perfect,” she admitted. “We broke up a couple of time because it was really difficult. And neither of us were willing to move for each other. I mean, don’t get me wrong, Kevin and I, we love each other. Truly we do. But I wouldn’t want to plant my entire life in Seoul for him. In the same manner, I don’t want him to move from Seoul to Vancouver for me when we both know for a fact that he’d be more successful in Korea than here. I guess, I don’t know, I don’t have an advice I could give you.”

“I’m not asking for advice,” you denied. “I mean. Donghyuck and I have only been dating for like, two weeks. I wouldn’t think that far at this time.”

Giselle had laughed at the other end of the line. “Let me tell you one thing, though.”

“Mhm.”

“It’s all a matter of choice,” she had said slowly, like she wanted to imprint the words to your brain. “Your heart isn’t made of diamonds. Your lungs aren’t made of steel. Somehow, inevitably, you’d grow tired—tired of timezones and how you never get the timing right, tired of not having someone to hug when you need it, tired of having to compromise—and it’s not an easy game.”

Giselle was smiling when she’d said the rest: “But Kevin is so worth it. I’ll grow tired of the baggage long distance comes with, but I don’t think I could live without him, you know? And it’s exaggerated, I know, and neither of us know what the future holds, but we’re choosing us. We chose to stay.”

It would have been beautiful, you think, if things worked out between you and Donghyuck. You would have written poems and prose in places about how you chose to stay. You would have learned about time zones and the best time to call, could have learned how to purchase the cheapest flight tickets to see each other, would have learned love and compromise together.

But you’re here, back in Vancouver, the voices of Mark and Giselle all blurred out from the backseat, and all you could think of is how much you miss Donghyuck.

예기치 않은 (yegichi anh-eun) - unexpected

The head of the student exchange program asks you to write an article about your experience in Seoul and gives you until the fall semester begins, just in time for the university’s own publishing house to produce this year’s school paper. You’re stuck at two hundred words and a stupid title Mark came up with: “Learning Languages”—and you’re thinking about withdrawing from that spot in the newspaper but Mark keeps calling you a heartbroken loser and you’re not about to let Mark Lee get the last word.

You’re eating cereal and watching an episode of Suits to prepare to write again (yes, a 30-minute preparation time is needed for such task) when someone knocks at your door.

You know how, in movies, the main character would see things in slow motion as soon as the love of their life enters the scene? That’s exactly what happens when you open the door and find Lee Donghyuck standing outside your dorm room, a too-large for his body backpack on one shoulder and his heart upon his sleeve.

미안해 (mianhae) – I’m sorry | 사랑해 (saranghae) – I love you

“I’m sorry,” are the first words that Lee Donghyuck comes up with, and truthfully are the words you needed to hear from him. He says it in his mother tongue and you feel his heart in his voice.

“Mark?” you ask, knowing full well it’s Mark who helped him.

“Yes but no,” he answers. “He said he’d only give me your address but he’s not picking me up or helping me. My flight landed literally six hours ago and I’ve been looking for you since.”

Donghyuck sits across you on the small table you own inside your small room. His backpack is sitting on his feet and his shoulders are slumped. Donghyuck allows himself to look small compared to all the times you were with him.

“Y-you look good,” he comments, eyes glued on you. “I’m glad you’re healthy, at least.”

“You, too,” you mumble. “Tea? Coffee?”

“Water would be fine, please and thank you.” You reach over to hand him a bottle. “And who are you kidding? I look awful.”

He does. He looks exactly what he said he had done to get here. Look for you for six hours after a ten-hour flight from Incheon. Donghyuck downs the bottle of water. Poor guy probably hasn’t eaten.

“Why are you here, Donghyuck?” you ask as soon as he’s done drinking.

Donghyuck clears his throat. “I don’t really know what I want out of this trip.”

You keep your arms crossed over your chest.

“And I’m not about to beg you to take me back,” he continues. “I just wanted to explain. I just want you to know what happened. I can live without you, but I can’t live with you thinking I had betrayed you.”

“Donghyuck, there’s really no need to explain. Renjun has told Mark all I needed to know.”

“No, let me say it please. I spent a fortune to come here, and I’m going to make you listen if it’s the last thing I’d do. After this, I’ll leave. I have a ticket back home tomorrow, and I’ll leave.”

Ridiculous. Who would spend a fortune on a set of roundtrip tickets only to leave a day after? Of course, only Lee Donghyuck.

“Karina and I go way back,” he says. “We’ve known each other since we were kids. And she’s not someone I could just get rid of just because our relationship didn’t work out. We’re better off as friends, and that’s a fact we had come to learn when we tried dating. And it was painful, but I couldn’t lose her just because we didn’t know how to date, how to play boyfriend and girlfriend to each other. That’s the first thing I need you to understand.”

“Like I don’t know that already?” you remark sarcastically.

“Karina is a part of me.” Shit’s painful.

“But now like how you are a part of me.”

Oh.

“She’s my best friend, almost like a sister now, and my parents care about her,” he continues. “It was a mistake that we even tried to date just so we could relate to everyone dating everybody. It almost ruined us, and Karina and I, we can’t afford to lose each other just because of that. The person who I am now, part of it is because of Karina. But Y/N, the person I’m about to become, I want it to be because of you.”

He clears his throat again. You look at the bottle of water he finished drinking because you really can’t look at Donghyuck now. Not when he’s vulnerable and out in the open. Not when he’s exactly the way he was when you fell in love with him.

“And I had plans. For the long run,” he says like a promise. “I had started looking up how to get a tourist visa to Canada and how to get you a tourist visa to Korea. I’ve been saving all my allowances and the money I’ve been earning from work so I could book a ticket to Vancouver for the summer and spend it with you. And I was supposed to tell Mom, but I haven’t had the chance yet—that one I have no excuse for. But the timing was off and she met you before I could tell her. She had no idea and she’s genuinely sorry she made it seem like she wanted me to end up with Karina. If she had known I was already in love with someone else, she wouldn’t have said that in front of you. She would have loved you.”

Donghyuck pauses. You look up to see him wiping his tears from his cheeks. “And I’m sorry that the timing didn’t go well for us, but I promise you I had plans. I just didn’t want to spend the rest of your weeks in Seoul thinking about you being gone as soon as the semester is over. I wanted to seize the moments with you and make you—I wanted to make you feel that I love you.”

Your breath hitches. Donghyuck locks eyes with you.

“I love you. I love you and I’m so sorry that I made you feel like I didn’t,” he confesses, bursting into tears and you do, too. “I’m so sorry that I didn’t try hard enough to make you stay. I’m so sorry that I talked to fast that time I finally got you to answer my call; I should’ve explained more calmly. I’m so sorry that we’re here, in Vancouver, hearts broken. But I love you, and I wish I could say all of these in English if that’s what would make you believe it’s real and it’s true.”

But he doesn’t have to.

“I love you,” you say in your mother tongue before switching to Korean. “I love you. And I know you love me. And I’m so sorry for jumping to conclusions and not trying hard enough. Just like you, I had plans to. For the long run. And I can live without you, too, but I can’t live without you knowing how much I love you.”

Donghyuck giggles through his tears and reaches out both hands to wipe off yours. “Let’s not live without each other.”

It’s him to moves, standing a little, so he could kiss you.

The kiss says everything the language barrier can’t. I love you. I missed you. I’m sorry. This is everything I’ve ever wanted. You are everything I’ve ever wanted.

Donghyuck spends the night tracing your body with his mouth like he’s writing a love song and he needs to taste you first before he could write the first melody. You spend the night underneath Donghyuck’s love, whispering his name like praise, taking, taking, taking everything he’s giving you.

You wake up to arms around you and the love of your life kissing the back of your neck. You and him spend the entire day (or at least, the seven hours he had until he had to take the flight back home) talking about your plans and making a list of thing you have to talk about over the phone, but today, you’re taking him out on a date under the warm, sunny skies of Vancouver.

And you do. You and Donghyuck have the best day ever together. Donghyuck gives you the other pair of the touch lamp you’d given to him as a birthday present—you’d forgotten you left it when you ran off; you were supposed to watch him open it so you could show him how it works—and makes you promise to touch the lamp whenever you missed him. He thanks you for the mixtape and confesses he cries whenever he plays it inside his car. He also gives you your small notebook of learning languages back (because you had dramatically left it to Renjun before you boarded the plane), saying you’d need it again.

Mark refused to come because he wants you and Donghyuck to talk and spend the day creating a game plan to make your relationship work. At the end of the hours you had with him, you don’t come up with a solid game plan.

Because Giselle was right, after all, it all comes down to the choices you make. There was no formula on how a long-distance relationship would work. Neither you nor Donghyuck had survived one, but you knew one thing:

Today, you and Donghyuck choose each other.

It’s only the beginning, it seems.

The sun is out and bright when Donghyuck boards the plane.

It’s a lot warmer than the rest of the year, but you don’t really mind.

#nct fanfiction #haechan smut #haechan fluff #haechan fic #haechan au #haechan scenarios #nct dream #lee haechan #lee donghyuck #donghyuck x reader #donghyuck fix #donghyuck fic #donghyuck smut #donghyuck angst #haechan x reader #faye's moving castle

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gay-dorito-dust · 4 days

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Hiiii I was looking to see if your request is open but couldn’t find it so I’ll just drop it here and feel free to write it :) I love your writings! 🌸

May I ask for batboys reacting to shy reader who wants them to lie down on her lap after their long day. She wants to praise them, play with their hair and shower them with kisses :0 thank you!

Dick:

Would rest his head on your lap regardless of whether you asked him to do not, your lap was the perfect pillow for him and he will not have it any other way.

‘Hi baby.’ He greets as he beams up at you from the comfort of your lap.

‘Hi honey, long day?’ You greeted back, your hands already finding their way into his hair and began to comb through it slowly as he hums, burrowing himself closer to you as a means to feel more of you against him.

‘Yeah but it’s nothing I can’t handle.’ Dick replied and smiled wide when you kissed his cheek before kissing his nose, and felt his heart melt upon giggling you giggling when he scrunched up his face.

‘Is there nothing that my handsome man can’t do?’ You asked sarcastically as you pressed a kiss to his other cheek. ‘Or is he just the most perfect man in existence?’

Dick made a face at this. ‘Have you maybe considered that this handsome man of yours has an amazing, wonderful and beautifully cute spouse waiting at home for him as inspiration?’ He looks at you with a raised brow.

‘I’m the one who’s meant to be praising you tonight, not you praising me.’ You chuckled as you peppered his face in small, quick kisses that had Dick reaching a hand to the back of your head, holding you close so he could give you a plethora of kisses of his own.

‘Well what if we could just both praise the other tonight.’ Dick said against your lips.

‘I can deal with that.’ You replied as you spent the rest of the night whispering sweet nothings to one another and trading kisses.

Jason:

Your lap was his save haven after a long and tiresome day from having to listen to Bruce critique his way of ridding crime out of Gotham. So he wasn’t going to refuse your affection, not when you shyly patted your lap as an invite to rest his head and looking cute whilst doing so.

God had his permission to smite him to his second death should he actually refuses your requests to coddle him and shower him in all your love and adoration.

If anything the days where you offered up your lap to him were the best days of his entire life as he got to spend it looking up at an absolute angel that he was lucky enough to call his own.

‘How’s my gorgeous jay birdie feeling today?’ You asked as you kissed his along his jaw and stopping when you got to his chin.

‘I’m feeling fantastic now that I’m with you sweetheart. How about you.’ He replied back as he looked up at you with his pretty eyes that he knew made you weak. Jason only wanted to give you back the love and support that you give him on a daily basis tenfold, for it’s what you truly deserved in his eyes.

He loved you too much to allow you to settle for mediocrity.

‘I’m feeling much better now my strong, brave boy has come home to me safe and one less bruise to ice.’ You responded with a lighthearted chuckle as you lifted up one of his large hands and pressed a kiss to the back of it, before resting your cheek against it to commemorate his warmth and callouses to memory.

‘Don’t come at me with that sweetheart, I know you love icing my bruises, especially when they’re on my abdomen.’ Jason cheeked as he winked at you, taking pure enjoyment out of seeing your flustered face. It was a much needed breath of fresh air coming home to sweet, caring you from the cold, unforgiving outside and he cherished every bit of it for as long as he could.

‘Meanie.’ You murmur, booping him on the nose.

‘Meanie? How am I being mean chipmunk, I know how much you love my abs and my thighs.’ Jason chuckled as he booped your nose in retaliation. ‘Why do you think I never skip leg day?’

‘You’re more than perfect the way you are Jason,’ you countered, ‘perfect body or not you’re still my jay birdie. Forever and always.’ You whispered the last part as you pressed a sweet tender kiss to his lips as he smiled in response.

Tim:

He always finds himself perpetually tired from working himself to the bone, so when you offered up your lap for him to rest, the poor man practically sighed in relief, almost as if he were a man dying of thirst in the desert; finally having found the oasis he had been wandering aimlessly for.

‘You don’t know how much I needed this.’ Tim groans as he made himself comfortable in your lap, trying his hardest to not to close his eyes right then and there from the prepping of light kisses you were scattering across his forehead and under his eyes.

Gosh he hates how weak he gets from your little kisses but would die a little on the inside if you didn’t.

‘I’m sure I can take a guess.’ You said sweetly as you ran your hand through his hair. ‘You’ve been overworking yourself so much lately that I rarely see you as much,’ Tim’s stomach dropped upon hearing this but let you finish speaking, ‘but when I do see you it always makes me happy knowing that you’re okay.’ You then pressed a kiss to his cheek.

‘I’m sorry for-‘ you cut him off by pressing a finger to his lips, muttering a soft ‘don’t. Don’t blame yourself for things you can’t control.’

‘But I can control it!’ Tim exclaimed. ‘It’s not fair on you to exhaust yourself on me every night after patrol and still find it within yourself to take care of me…I don’t deserve any of it as it feels as though I’m taking advantage of you somehow.’ Tim trailed off as he looked away for you as guilt are away at him.

‘Tim,’ you called, ‘my sweet Tim as long as I know your okay and come home to me every night, then I don’t care how long I have to stay up just catch a glimpse of your handsome face.’ You reassured him as you kissed his jawline softly, and Tim felt himself weaken under your words and affection as he looked back up at you.

‘You really mean that?’ He asked almost quietly.

‘I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it with all my heart my sweet, smart boy.’ You said while pressing a singular kiss to his forehead.

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snghnlvr · 5 months

Text

𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞. / park sunghoon

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫! (bff!jake makes an appearance!) • read part two !

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: you just wish you have the guts to say what you want, what you feel to your crush, park sunghoon.

likes, comments and reposts are very much appreciated! <3

[below the cut]

you stared at the tall, handsome boy across the room. the room was twinkling whenever his cheek dimple appears when laughing, classmates’ eyes diverted whenever his eyes turn into crescent room, and classmates become temporary silent to hear his laughs.

ever since he stepped foot into your classroom from two years ago when he became a transferee, he grabbed the attention of female students and even staff board members. boys would gaze upon him whenever they pass by sunghoon with jealously visible in their faces.

i mean, who wouldn’t ?

you can’t deny either, he’s the most attractive person ever. in the classroom. in the school. in the world wide world.

his eyes would sometimes glance upon yours. when you both make eye contact, it would not last for even two seconds as you immediately look away. blush would run across your cheeks just by thinking about his gorgeous eyes looking at yours. you would nibble your bottom lip out of nervousness and overthink about your physical appearance.

did i look like an idiot? why is my lips so chapped? was my mascara smeared?

you questioned yourself multiple times in your head after walking home from school, how is he sculpted like the gods? why is he so handsome? why is he that perfect?

argh, just by thinking about it, unconsciously made your lips curl and heart beating like a rollercoaster. you shake your head to remove your thoughts about him and go home.

even though you’ve classmates with him for two years, you wanted to be closer. but you didn’t have the guts to do something. talk to him? pass him the notes the next day after being absent to take his ice skating lessons? buy him something? start a conversation? it’s too confusing.

you sighed infront of a locker. staring at it as if it would reply to you. well, you needed a quick response from whatever what you were doing. a wake up call.

you mentally marked it in your head.

locker #143 letter #12

god what were you doing?

writing letters to someone who barely notices you? how pathetic. you don’t even know what he thinks about you. does he know your name?

you were turning your body, ready to take off and think about sunghoon for the rest of the night. but before you take a step forward, you hear a familiar shout.

“y/n!”

you turned around and you see two figures, you recognized that one of them is your best friend, jake.

“oh hey jake!” you beamed at jake’s big smile towards you as he jogs towards you. your eyes then moved towards the figure behind him and your mind immediately blacked out.

it was sunghoon following behind jake. he saw you and smiled before going towards you as well.

“we were gonna eat tteokbokki at the restaurant across the street but we saw you~ it’s sooo cold so we wanted to eat something warm!” you can hear jake’s excitement through his tone as you saw him bundled up with his jacket and gloves. you noticed sunghoon’s attire. it was a simple hoodie with his fluffy jacket but yet he looked so cozy.

“wanna come with us?” jake invited. he stared at you with expectation.

“oh..” you mumbled under your breath. the sudden invitation made you hesitant because sunghoon will be there and you didn’t know how to act around him.

currently your heartbeat is echoing in your ears and you suddenly got cold sweat on your back despite it being winter.

you glanced to sunghoon behind jake as his hands were inside. he gently smiled at you as if he knew that you were wondering whether or not you’ll be a bother with them. he gave you a reassuring nod, mouthing, “don’t mind it”.

you swore your heart with jumping jackets. you swore sunghoon’s cheek dimple appeared when he smiled at you. you swore that sunghoon wanted you to be there with him.

“sure.” you breathe out. the heavy feeling on your chest disappeared with that one look of sunghoon’s eyes that spoke comfort and gentleness.

“yes!” jake jumped in excitement in his place. “we’re gonna go after sunghoon gets his scarf from his locket.” jake’s eyes moved towards sunghoon’s locker which was literally right next to you.

once again, your mind immediately blacked out. you panicked internally. not only sunghoon but your best friend will see your letter. you were the only one that knows that you like sunghoon. and you were scared that it might be obvious with how you’re acting.

you eyes looked over sunghoon’s hand unlocking his locker. you wanted to run away. you wanted to hide. you wanted to take back off the letters that you wrote in the past about him and forget everything. you can imagine yourself slapping yourself with your pillow.

but at the same time you were curious. will this be an opportunity to know what sunghoon thinks of you? does he likes the letters? does he know that it’s yours?

sunghoon huffed loudly which cut out of your thoughts.

“another one?” laced with disappointment.

your heart dropped at his reaction. you looked at jake beside you, his lips pursed in awkwardness.

you saw sunghoon stretch out his hand to grab the brown envelope. “hey y/n..” sunghoon turned to you.

your eyes widened, in fear if he knows. you gulped before responding to him. but your heart thumped that he said your name for the first time. that was a first for you.

“do you know this person?” he asked emotionless. eyes hoping that you know. you stared at the mini orange you’ve drew in the corner of the letter because you know he likes them; the drawing is humiliating you.

“no….” you tried to play if off cool, acting like you were thinking. sunghoon nodded when you responded.

“alright.”

jake bumped his elbow onto your shoulder. “sunghoon has been receiving love letters from the same person for the past month.”

“and it’s annoying.” sunghoon examined the brown envelope as if it was a disease. you can see the scowl on his face.

your heart swelled up at the contrast of his voice from earlier and his expression. his twisted eyebrows and puckered lips showed his frustration while looking at his name in the center of the envelope.

“it’s annoying?” you suddenly spoke, genuinely wondering why he would think of that but sunghoon nodded once again.

“tired of the same nonsense anyways. i won’t like someone who acts like this. i read the letters and laugh to myself because, how can someone be this delusional?” he snickered to himself as jake nodded, agreeing with him.

tears swelled up to your eyes as sunghoon looked down at the envelope, playing with it like a toy.

“acting like this? it’s a burdensome.”

did sunghoon indirectly called you a burden?

“if i meet this person, i won’t ever like them because i hate people like this.”

ouch.

that really did it.

“hey!” you suddenly made your voice loud, startling both of the boys.

jake panicked upon looking at you, your cheeks are pink, eyes watering and your lips were quivering.

sunghoon was alarmed with you. he was confused yet worried upon seeing your teary eyes. he was questioning what happened. he was gonna ask but you beat him to it.

you chuckled. “i forgot i-i have to help my mom with something. you guys can go without me-“ you cursed at yourself for your stuttering. “i’ll go! uh bye!” you smiled specifically at sunghoon with your teary eyes before dashing off.

idiot.

what sunghoon doesn’t know is that you like him.

what you don’t know is that sunghoon likes you as well. he was the one that initiated eating tteokbokki with you.

(jake would leave midway as apart of sunghoon’s plan)

this is my first tumblr post! i have a lot of drabbles in my notes app but i decided to post this one first because it’s completely done. what did you guys think? do you think sunghoon will know yn’s likeness towards him? will yn stop with the letters? i don’t know if i have a part two in mind but please let me know if you want! 😼 thank you for reading <3

#enhypen angst #enhypen fluff #park sunghoon angst #sunghoon angst #sunghoon oneshot #sunghoon fluff #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen drabbles #enhypen imagines #psh #enha x reader #enha fluff #sunghoon x y/n #enha imagines #enha smau #enha scenarios #sunghoon fanfic #sunghoon ff

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sanjisboyfie · 6 months

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-> started more like a crackfic headcanon, but then it got rlly serious at the end??? mb igggg

gojo's definitely the type to slap your ass in public. not even in a nasty way, genuinely (or more like 50% of the time it's not in a sexual way). he just likes slapping your ass??? you've tried asking him why he does it so often, but he just grins and shrugs his shoulders in response. it's always a flirty response, like, "i can't appreciate my beautiful boy's ass?" or, "y'know i can't keep my hands off of you, handsome,"

he's such a fucking annoying boyfriend. like genuinely. could you imagine having a 6'4, lanky man latched to you - literally trying to melt into your skin? no, because you don't have to imagine it, it's your everyday life. you wake up? his arms and legs are tangled with yours that you have no choice but to wake him up. you're cooking? he's hovering behind you with his back hunched and head resting on your neck as he is still working on completely waking up. you need to go to catch your train for your job? oh...but can't you just spend the day in with him? he'll do whatever you want >:) just skip work and stay with him!

he's so needy and clingy. it's actually insane how much a grown man can WHINE. oh my god, you think about doing anything without him - ANYTHING - and he's already complaining overdramatically that you don't love him. he goes from 0-to-100 really quick, meaning you guys could be cuddling and he's nearly knocked out, you gently move him off of you to get up to PEE, and he's suddenly reciting all of the heartbreaking lines shakespeare wrote, claiming, "you!! you heartless man, have driven a stake right through my heart and i shall never recover from such a pain you've brought onto me!!!" as if you're not going to be back in like thirty seconds ??? max.

he's the strongest sorcerer, but if you're around, he's nothing but a man in love with his boyfriend (and hopefully more. he fantasizes a lot of what a married life with you would look like...).

he actually could care less about other people when you're there - you have to verbally remind him of his duties as a jujutsu sorcerer or else he will very easily ignore them in exchange of spending time with you.

another thing that comes with dating this man is that he will do everything, above and beyond, in his power to keep you out of harm's way. let's say you weren't a jujutsu sorcerer, he'll let you in his lifestyle in full confidence nothing will harm you. he's already talked to the higher ups, if they try pulling some bullshit out of their ass in putting you in danger, he's gonna actually slaughter all of them. it was a meeting he had with them when you two just made it official and, comically enough, he was snapped out of his gruesome, detailed rant on what he would do to them by a call from you ringing through his phone.

you have him completely wrapped around your finger and he's not one to shy away from showing that. he thinks public acts of devotion are the best ways to show his loyalty and love for you to other people. it's so hilarious how he will literally fall to his knees begging on a random street, just for you to look at him. just because you're looking at what a vendor's stall is selling doesn't mean you have to look away from him???? hello ??? please be more considerate of his feelings, his heart cannot take this much.

and despite how carefree he always seems with you in public, if you are still in a public area, his senses are actually hightened to their peak. there's absolutely no way he's taking a chance with you getting harmed if he's there, he'll ensure you're safety above anything else. he protects you with his life and will happily exchange his life for your own - if it ever came down to that.

and he's proclaimed that to you several times which has earned him worried scoldings everytime he said anything along the lines of, "i'll risk my life to protect you," but he always pushes your scoldings aside. because then he comforts you saying that: he's the strongest for a reason and he will use all of his strength in protecting the future the two of you will have together. he can't live without you, so obviously you're staying safe. and he'd actually rather step on a thousand legos than imagine you living your life without him. selfishly, he wants to be the center of your universe, like you are for him (alright, eren jaeger headass...)

neither of you have to worry about that though! he is still the strongest ever, there's nothing that could pull him away from you (there was one time his students genuinely tried doing this and it was impossible. physically trying to pull gojo off of your body was impossible). and he wants to spend every waking moment with you. so not only are you being protected 25/8, but you're being affectionately doted on, loved, and cared for for each of those passing seconds.

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stabbing-in-the-dark · 1 year

Text

Giving Slashers flowers!!!

This post will include RZ Michael Myers, Jason, Billy Lenz, Thomas Hewitt, and Brahms Heelshire. Reader is gn or male. We're just starting to write so please be kind.

RZ Mikey

[Cue silent head tilt]

He understands the sentiment behind the gesture, but doesn't get why you'd give him flowers.

Poor guy doesn't think he deserves them :(

Will probably dry and/or press the flowers and incorporate the dried petals into his masks, and might even make you a mask of your own as a 'thank you' (wear it around him he will be ecstatic, even if he doesn't show it)

You had just come home from the grocery store, armfuls of stuff in your grip as you carry them to the kitchen. "Hey Michael, I'm home!" You figured he knew it was you anyway but you definitely wouldn't wanna be mistaken for an intruder.

Michael eventually wanders into the kitchen to see what you brought home (hes secretly hoping you brought candy, he has a hell of a sweet tooth). When he sees the bouquet of flowers, he picks them up and tugs at your sleeve. Holding them up with his head tilted as if to say, "What's with these?"

"Oh! Those are for you, Mikey." You smile up at him. He stands there for a moment, seemingly thinking before nodding and walking away, flowers in hand.

A few weeks later Michael walks up to you with a colourful mask, putting it in your lap and staring at you. You pick it up and inspect the details, realizing he had dried the flowers you gave him and used them as part of the mask.

You smile and stand, giving him a tight hug which he awkwardly reciprocates, then put on your mask. "Its beautiful, Michael, thank you."

Jason Voorhees

When i tell you this man will just about sob from joy-

The fact that you love him and want to be around him is already more than he's ever hoped for but you bringing him flowers? Swoon

You will absolutely get a massive bear hug cuz i know for a fact this momma's boy is a hugger

You had decided to go for a little hike around the camp while Jason was off setting his traps. It was a beautiful day and you didn't wanna waste it indoors.

While on this hike you collected the wildflowers and wild blueberries along the trail, as a little gift for Jason. By the time you got back to the cabin, you had a proper fistful of flowers and maybe a pint of the blueberries, lucky you! You got to the sweet berries before the deer did.

When Jason finally got back you greeted him with a kiss on the cheek of his hockey mask and the little bouqet. "I picked you some flowers, handsome!" Jason takes them gingerly and grabs a mug, filling it with water to use as a vase.

Once he sets the flowers in the mug he turns back to you and scoops you up in a firm but careful bear hug, muffled sniffles echoing from under his mask. "Thank you, love." He signs after gently setting you back down on your feet. You smile and take his hand, "I also picked some blueberries, wanna help me make some muffins?" He nods eagerly as you lead him to the kitchen.

Billy Lenz

Lets be real this gremlin of a man would try to eat them if you'd let him. (Dude 100% has an oral fixation and 0 sense of self control)

Will cling to you even more than usual. Mans is a cuddler through and through.

"Pretty Boy brought Billy a gift!!!"

Will also happy stim as he rambles about how sweet you are and probably brag about you to your cat (writing this as if yall aint in the sorority house) "Billy has the sweetest boyfriend ever!"

"Billy, I'm home!" You call as you walk in the door. You head up to your room to see billy laying on the bed with your cat, holding it above him and giggling loudly. "Havin fun cutie? I picked up some new sweaters for you, nice n' soft just how you like." He smiles up at you and places the cat down. "Pretty [y/n] always picks the best sweaters." He states as he sits up.

"I also got you something else."

"Surprise for Billy?"

"Yes, surprise for Billy." You pull the flowers from behind your back, earning a delighted squeal and some happy wiggles from your boyfriend. He quickly snatched them from your hand and shoved his face into the vibrant blossoms, only to sneeze immediately.

(I AM A BILLY LENZ KITTEN SNEEZE TRUTHER YOU CAN'T CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE)

You laugh softly at his antics and give him a kiss on the forehead. "Why dont I put these in a vase, then we can cuddle n watch some cartoons?"

"Yes please!!!" Billy grins, picking up the cat and following you back downstairs.

Thomas Hewitt

Will probably also cry tbh, another momma's boy who thrives off of affection

You'll probably need to tell Hoyt off though cuz he's gonna dog on Tommy for bein a pansy or some shit

But really this man is so whipped for you he's going to cherish anything you give him.

He's sentimental for sure so i see him asking Luda to press any flowers you give him to keep forever

You were just finishing up setting the beartraps around the Hewitt property when you noticed some wildflowers in the treeline.

After setting the last trap you headed over to the patch of flowers, picking a handful and binding them with some twine from your pocket. Satisfied with your little bouqet, you made your way back to the house.

"Tommy's upstairs in y'all's room, honey." Luda called from the kitchen as you walked in. "Alright Luda, I'll be back in a bit to help with supper." With that you scampered upstairs and into your room.

"Tommy baby? Ya in here?" You hear a grunt and smile, walking up to the large man and hugging him. "Brought you a lil gift, love."

You hand Thomas the flowers, which he takes and inspects curiously before setting them down and kissing your forehead, mumbling a raspy, slightly choked 'thank you.'

Brahms Heelshire

This dude just gets so flustered.

He spent 2 decades in the fucking walls a kind gesture would absolutely kill him

Will be even clingier the rest of the day. Don't bother trying to do anything he will have a death grip on your waist to cuddle you.

Brahms is definitely still very childish when it comes to passtimes, may ask you to put the flowers in his hair or something (lowkey an excuse to have you play with his hair.) [Please play with his hair he will melt]

Whilst taking care of the rat traps you decided to pick some of the clover blossoms growing next to the foundation of the mansion. You dont really leave the house, so small activities like this gave you some variety in your day.

As soon as you had finished up outside it had started to rain. You curse quietly to yourself and dash inside.

"Brahmsy! Im done outside, what should we do for lunch?" You call as you take off your shoes; You didn't want to track mud in the house after all.

"Could we have that pasta with the chicken and herbs? I quite like that." The masked man replies, seemingly appearing from thin air. "What are the flowers for, sweetest?"

"Oh! Theyre for you, Brahms. I thought they were pretty." You smile at him and hand him the flowers.

"F-For me?" You can see his left ear turn a bit pink, and you giggle.

"Of course darling, I wanted to do something to make you smile."

Brahms scoops you up and squeezes you tight. "Thank you, dove. That's so kind of you."

#billy lenz #michael myers #thomas hewitt #brahms heelshire #jason vorhees #slasher lover #slasher x male reader #slasher x reader #slashers x male reader #brahms heelsire x reader #billy lenz x male reader #michael myers x reader #jason vorhees x reader #thomas hewitt x reader

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jungkookschin · 1 year

Text

operation true love! enhypen social media au

after y/n finds out that her boyfriend has been cheating on her with her adopted sister, she finds herself entangled with two of the most popular boys at their uni: jake, the handsome lead striker of the soccer team, and heeseung, the devastatingly charismatic boy who keeps to himself! however, she soon discovers that she needs to make someone genuinely fall in love with her to prevent her (potential) gruesome death. so who will she attempt to seduce? her ex boyfriend, jake, or heeseung?

pairing: soccerplayer!jake x reader, tsundere!heeseung x reader

genre: smau, fluff, angst, crack fic

updates: every other day!

taglist: @curly-fr13s

based on the popular webtoon: operation pure love!

profiles

nobody cares about the flop soccer team!

hybe uni's men's soccer team

the VILLAINS

chapters

one: WHOOPS!😧

two: hideous goblin

three: DILFS (dude i love football season!)

four: bro get back to the game😭

five: this was all minwoo's fault 📝

six: #worldpeace advocate

seven: IS HE LYING ?!

eight: 450 for a pc is insane

nine: i just fell to my knees 📝

ten: i know you guys are having an affair

eleven: clown to clown communication

twelve: that's cute 📝

thirteen: y/n and heeseung’s death 😁 (maybe)

fourteen: :0

fifteen: initiating operation true love!

sixteen: love 😂😂😂 triangle 😂😂😂

seventeen: y/n's love points = 0

eighteen: gojo fanfic?!?!

nineteen: so i guess the rumors were true

twenty: y/n's harem>jungwon's harem

twenty one: operation fake love

twenty two: NOT THE GOVERNMENT NAME

twenty three: boooo

twenty four: ra-im redemption arc?!

twenty five: jake has sent you a love point! +1

twenty six: you can be really selfish sometimes

twenty seven: the government beat us to it

twenty eight: we're rich

twenty nine: that shit was so corny

thirty: mf got a nosebleed💀

#enhypen scenarios #enhypen smau #enhypen social media au #enhypen fanfiction #enha smau #enha social media au #enha imagines #enha scenarios #jake scenarios #jake sim scenarios #jake sim smau #jake smau #heeseung smau #heeseung scenarios #heeseung fanfic #heeseung x yn #heeseung social media au #🌷operation true love🌷

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idesofrevolution · 5 months

Text

Never Sleep with Your Phone On

Throughout recorded history, humans have been terrified of the dark. They created stories of sordid creatures of the night that would creep out from beneath your bed and drag you to some subterranean lair to languish in your final moments; or slither out of your mirror if you left it uncovered when your lights were extinguished to steal your soul from your snoring lips. The tales and cryptids across all cultures were all effective in terrifying their communities once the sun set on the horizon. Though that is not necessarily to say that every tale was crafted from pure imagination.

When technology bloomed, humans believed that the horrifying superstitions of yore were long behind them. They had evolved past the primitive fears of what lurks in the shadows, where in reality they had become complacent, arrogant, and lulled. Certainly some of the eldritch creatures had subsided, as all creatures do eventually. Though for every dead legend, a new myth sprouts, and each of those grew and evolved right there along with us. Which, of course, brings us to Asher.

Asher West was, by all accounts, a fairly normal guy. Graduated from high school, going straight into college on a modest academic scholarship. He played frisbee golf with his friends on the weekends, studied hard from 9 to 5, and was seldom seen without a cup of Starbucks in the mornings. He had a sizeable social media following, as was expected for someone with a traditionally handsome visage and adequately charismatic personality. Every day he'd happily post a quick selfie, posting for his thousands of admirers a run of the mill shirtless pic, often without so much as a filter. It'd almost become muscle memory for him: tap the camera icon, snap the pic, post with some benign emojis as the caption, and boom. 900 likes as the day meandered on. Did it provide him with a momentary burst of endorphins? Yes. Was it satisfying? Somewhat, at least he thought so. Years of his staggeringly average life had been all but usurped by this second life online, where he was glamorous, exciting, and adored.

It was so much easier to live in that fantasyland than to truly be present in the real world around him. He, as many of us are, was living his life as someone else- and a life that spectacled easily caught attention. It was easy to come across him in the sea of countless names and faces. It was easy to stumble upon that pretty face. It was easy find, attracting more than just starry eyed fans. Skulking in the void between lines of 1 and 0, buried deep in the infinite cosmic vacuum of the world electric and technological, another pair of eyes would befall him.

It had slinked into his vast sphere rather quickly, and it had begun to watch. Watching each and every 'tasteful' selfie, every vapid thought that he'd post, and every like and pin he'd make, it watched him with empty, expressionless black eyes from within a fragment of his phone's memory. It studied him, curious at first. Things of its nature were always curious, always inclined to watch and analyze and replicate. Even as he slept, his phone siphoning it's charge from it's cable, it would read. The more it saw, the more it had learned about Asher. In fact, it knew more of Asher than perhaps he himself was aware of, if not able to admit.

It had seen those intimate moments he'd taken careful measure to hide from the vast majority of those watching eyes. Second accounts under pseudonyms, gave way to countless of hidden alternate lives he lived: Tumblr blogs dedicated to bad-boy thrist traps and queer erotica, Twitter accounts cataloguing pictures and videos of his closest kept kinks, a well used and well loved Chaturbate account with his face tastefully cropped out of frame... all these lives immortalized in the endless archives of the internet. And after all it's patient watching, all the hours of analyzing, all the months of consuming his information, it had grown an attachment.

Asher had come home late one night. Not unusual for him, as the occasional party wouldn't derail his real life ambitions. After a few libations, and no small amount of cannabis, he'd made his way back home to his small apartment above the corner store. Just as he'd done numerous times before, he stripped himself of his shirt, pulling his camera from his jeans pocket, and snapped a slightly inebriated picture of himself. It'd be enough to boost his ego the next morning, enough to power through the long haul of his draining daily agenda.

SNAP. The flash of the camera went off, and his beloved face was shared for all to see. Though, that night, he mis stepped. Perhaps it was the booze, perhaps it was the toke, perhaps he was simply too tired to notice that he'd left the screen on. By the time he'd hit the bed he was out like a rock, collapsed onto the bed and quietly drifting to sleep. There on the brightly lit screen, in the darkness of the unlit bedroom, it saw its opportunity.

From it's perch on the nightstand, the phone began to spark. Small sparks at first, a quick fizzle and quiet pop. Then more: louder, brighter, faster. It began to rumble against the wooden tabletop, sizzling and sparkling as it danced before the screen went black and dead. Slowly, electric crackling gave way to a bubbling sludge. The glass subtly started wave and bellow, as if it were liquified, not taking long to begin to spill over the edges of it's metal frame. The black sludge fell like oil onto the hardwood floors, collecting in a growing, bubbling pool.

From the primordial ooze burst forth a long, slender arm; it's taloned fingers scraping as it braced itself on the ground. A second arm clawed it's way out, and with an echoing slosh, it had begun to pull itself out of the sludge. It's long, emaciated torso and thick muscled legs had slithered out, landing on two massive, clawed feet. It towered above Asher's bed as he slumbered, bent over so as not to hit it's back onto the eight foot ceiling. It stood there, looking at the person it'd observed and studied for so long. The image presented in the world it'd pried himself out of was nothing of what lay before it. From what it had gathered from his more clandestine dealings, it had noted that he was far from the archetypes he'd collected on Asher's behalf.

He did not have the tattoos like those he'd pinned on Pinterest. He was not wearing the dark, heavy clothes like those he'd saved on Instagram. He wasn't well endowed like the video's he'd favorited on X-Tube. He didn't give off the aura of some rebellious casanova like the stories he'd reblogged on Tumblr. To a creature of symmetry and consistency, this was an error to be corrected; a dichotomy requiring integration.

It crouched down above his drooling maw, gently caressing his head to face it's clenching claw. The talons pressed ever so tenderly past his lips and over his tongue, becoming the very black ooze it had crawled out of once more. It flooded down his throat as it's second arm made it's way into his mouth, as if it were being sucked into Asher. He was drinking it's essence, it's aqueous body slurping down into his core. It's torso compressed as it wriggled down his gullet, ringing out splashing squelches as Asher gargled it down.

As quickly as it had entered, it's long legs slithered into his mouth, leaving only its large feet thrashing about in the air. Asher's stomach was bubbling and undulating under the sheer pressure from this invasion, growing to a large gut spilling over the waistband of his jeans. One loud slurp and a crisp pop, and the feet slipped into him, leaving his writhing body squirming on the bed. It expanded within him, incorporating itself into every fibre of his being. Pressing into his arms, his legs, pushing up his throat until it met the top of his palate. The pressure began to mount, black goo dribbling down the corners of his mouth, until a wet crack sounded in his cavernous head, and it flowed into his skull.

It took mere seconds for it to reach his brain, which it flowed freely into throughout the grooves and nooks. Entirely coated, imbued and inoculated with it, the deed was done. Asher opened his eyes, tiredly sitting up in his bed. He looked over at his phone, tapping it with his finger: 3 AM.

At first it seemed like a nightmare. He could recall moments here and there, though the majority of his 'dream' was a blur. From what he could remember, it was nothing visual he could recollect... but it he could recollect the sensations. Wet, slimy, invasive, and cold- much like he felt drunkenly sleeping in his cold sweat. He brought himself to his feet, dragging his feet on the slippery floorboards to his bathroom.

Flipping the switch, the harsh fluorescent light flickered to life above him, as he turned the nozzle on his shower. Immediately, his jaw nearly dropped to the floor. In the mirror, Asher finally caught a glimpse of himself: strange black bruises and undulating bumps were scattered across his body. That pristine, smooth skin was now covered in sprawling web-like lesions from head to toe. He had mere moments to process the horror reflected in front of him before an immediate pain in the gut had him doubled over the counter.

His stomach started to bubble and groan, and through the foggy haze of his blurred vision he saw his feet begin to ripple and swell. He could feel the slick sweaty soles slide across the tile floor as they expanded and grew. As they reached a substantial size 13, the swelling crept it's way up his calves and into his thighs. Asher wobbled on his feet, as if they were filled with gelatin beneath his slippery skin while his knees began to buckle. He collapsed into a crouch, the fumes of sweaty footmusk bellowing up to his nostrils as his legs cracked and stretched above. He'd never truly experienced scentplay as he'd so dearly fantasized about throughout countless hours of edging to such content, nor had this funk ever emanated from his own soles. In the moment, he felt something within him prod into his brain. As if poking the individual folds of his cerebrum with thousands of tiny needles, causing cascades of thoughts to enter his mind- all of which telling him to embrace. In his mind's eye, he could see himself burying his face into his sweaty sole, between his long toes, lapping up every droplet of sweat that was spewing from his pores. The thought was buried deep in his subconscious, pried out with expert measure, by something now within him.

Grasping for anything to steady himself on, Asher gripped the edge of the sink, pulling himself upright once again and now towering above the countertop. He hung his aching head low, watching with strange newfound fervor as his cock began to feel heavier and heavier. Drool started to drip from the bottom of his lip, landing square onto the lengthening shaft. Like a sandbag, his balls dropped and swelled while he got harder and harder. Another onslaught of pinpricks in his head brought forth another command: stroke.

Steam started build in the bathroom as the hot water continued to fall from the shower, intensifying the scent wafting from now both his feet and his pendulous sac. Each breath of hot, wet musk hit like ecstasy, and with bated breath, he softly grasped ahold of his python and began to pump. Each knead of his engorged member was accompanied by a change. His fingers grew long and sinewy, smooth and slick with precum. His arms remained thin but toned, growing longer and packed with lean muscle. His torso lengthened, topped off with a firm pair of pecs above his sinewy abdomen.

As pressure began to build in his balls, his mind began to feel the needles one last time, imbuing his brain with one last injection of a single trait: pride. He didn't need the approval of anyone else, he was aware of how fucking hot he was. He didn't need to heed the rules that society had straddled him with, he always forged his own path. He had no fears of recompense for his attitude, his ego, his spirit- the world would either stand with him, or he would step on top of them. Either way, what bliss. As the last of his inhibitions and fears had gathered in his groin, he cried out in elation as he erupted. Rope after rope of black sludge shot from his cannon, washing him with a sense of relief he'd never before known. He released his grip on his softening cock, hanging at an obscene eleven inches. He smirked at the sludge coating his mirror and pooling beneath his toes. A sight like that would have shocked and terrified the old Asher, though as he stood before his reflection, devoid of any tension, he relented to the entity within him. It had delivered onto him a new self, a new image, a new viewpoint. As tattoos both vulgar and delicate began to sprawl across his skin, he happily admired his new likeness.

The entity had bestowed a gift to him; throughout the horror, throughout the fear, he was becoming the true Asher that had only ever peeked out from the abyss of his psyche. He leered, bringing his thumb and middle finger together before snapping loudly. From his pores, the black sludge began to spill across his body until he was nearly covered from the neck down in what appeared to be a rubber suit before it began to become a bit more defined. A plain white tee shirt, classically fashioned with a black and white varsity jacket from his college. Skinny, weathered black jeans barely containing his sizeable commando bulge beneath it's thin fabric. On his feet, a pair of white socks and tightly tied high top Chucks, quelling the ripe stink of his soles within the sneaker for some sub to pry off and enjoy.

He grinned, posing and modeling for himself, before he finally turned off the steaming water. After the long, arduous, painful process, the entity had incorporated itself entirely within him- now completely indistinguishable from parasitic to symbiotic. It had rewritten him, completely remade him in the likeness of who he had shown the vast virtual world. There was no cognitive dissonance, there were no lies, there was no deception. All that remained was the Asher he had created in his fantasy, now ready to fuck the real world and all within it.

Thus, as our creature feature comes to an end, I leave you with a modicum of friendly advice. Don't leave your phone on as you slumber, for those that are watching, those that are waiting, those that have been learning are a mere sheet of glass away from finding their way inside. Take my counsel, or ignore it. But do so knowing the outcome, and whether or not you are prepared to weather such a storm.

#body transformation #male transformation #original #transformation #musk #punkification #punk transformation #body possession #body invasion #symbiote #male symbiote #virtual cryptid #virtual symbiote #college

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pshcomforts · 1 month

Text

➳ love lee | psh.

idol!sunghoon x fem!reader

“so lovely day, so lovely”

synopsis: you and your idol boyfriend, sunghoon decide to do the tiktok dance challenge — ‘love lee’

warnings/content: written in third pov. cursing. not proofread. fluff! reader’s a little mean but sunghoon likes it (lol). hoon is down bad <3

comments, likes, and reposts are appreciated :)

word count: 1.1k

༘˚⋆𐙚｡masterlist⋆.✧˚

current song playing: love lee by akmu

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

0:47 ────|─────────────── -2:11

the day dawned on coming to high noon. y/n and sunghoon comfortably laid against each other while mindlessly on their phones.

“hey hoon?” she called to him.

“hm?”

“let’s do this dance,” she sheepishly said. the girl shoved her phone to his face with a shy grin.

“this dance?”

hoon moved the phone away with an eyebrow raise. “didnt sunoo do this dance?” he snorted.

y/n rolled her eyes with a soft smile forming afterward. “yes… but i want to see you do it too!”

“so you want me to do the dance, or you want to dance to it together?”

his lips curled into a sweet smile as he watched his girlfriend get flustered.

“either one…”

“let’s do the dance together, gorgeous.”

y/n snickered in laughs as a response while smacking the boy multiple times.

“whatever loser, let’s just learn it together.”

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

minutes passed by within seconds and the furthest they have gotten were seven drafts saved.

“hoon, you’re doing that wrong!”

“no i’m not, you are!” he teased.

sunghoon’s loud laugh boomed throughout the apartment as he enjoyed watching her get slowly frustrated.

“park sunghoon! you always do good in your tiktoks, why aren’t you getting this?”

“clearly, you’ve never seen the behind the scenes of my tiktoks; and plus, are you really telling your idol boyfriend how to dance properly?”

he cracked a smile while watching her roll her eyes, half playfully and half out of irritation.

“you know, for someone who’s an idol, the way you still struggle on some parts is a bit disappointing.” y/n teased back with a sneer.

hoon huffed out a laugh while saying, “come on, don’t be like that, gorgeous.”

she couldn’t help but feel her lips automatically turning into a smile from the nickname. she sent a soft smack to his arm while telling him to just retry again.

and so they did.

but in all honesty, he was purposefully messing up just to be a teasing ass to his girlfriend. he enjoyed doing tiktok videos with her; watching her become serious over something so small was a euphoric feeling to his heart.

“hoon…,” she said in a threatening tone. her head slowly turned to the boy who was holding back a smile. “stop messing up!”

y/n sent a hand flying to his arm again, but he pushed it away. “hey, i’m just trying to give you video drafts so you can look back at them when you miss me!” he defended with a wide beam.

“you’re so annoying loser!” she screamed back in the same energy. her grin became just as wide as his as their giggles mixed together in the living room.

“okay, okay! one more y/n, i swear it’ll be good this time.”

the sound blasted through the room again after the last eight attempts. y/n and her smitten boy subtly admired each other through the phone camera as they danced together.

✩ ‘spell L-O-V-E-L-E-E’ ✩

within seconds before the video ended, the handsome boy quickly moved in to plant a kiss on his girlfriend’s cheeks. the recording came to a stop as soon as her face lit up in shock.

hoon licked his lips before huffing out howls of laughter. his eyes sewed shut while he grabbed his stomach to sustain the pain welling inside. “y..your reaction,” he wheezed out whilst giving a bright smile.

y/n stood there in shock for a second. it was just a kiss on the cheek but it was still very sudden.

“hoon!!” she yelled, groaning out slightly annoyed sighs. many smacks on the arms were sent to him as he just continued to laugh it out.

“okay! okay! i’m sorry!” he responded, trying to get her back in his arms.

she pushed the boy away — “nuh uh! that’s enough for today!”

he huffed out more laughter as his fangs went out on display. “let’s rewatch that,” he suggested with an eye smile.

“no!”

“oh come on!”

“hoon, i’m serious! why do you have to be like this..” y/n said, letting an annoyed expression show her tone.

“okay finee, i’m sorry” said the boy who was still giggling. his arms flailed around her body to engulf her into a hug. “i’m sorry, like actually.”

he sent pouty lips to his girlfriend, causing a grossed out groan to be heard from her. “how are you so cute and yet so ugly and annoying at the same time??”

sunghoon chuckled out his laughs before placing a kiss on her cheek. “maybe because i’m your boyfriend?”

“yeah that’s what you think.”

his head whipped to her — “am i not your boyfriend?”

“i don’t know hoon, are you??” she challenged, a mischievous grin forming on her face.

he quickly ruffled her hair before nodding with a slightly disgusted look. “fine fine, be petty like that. i know you’re my girlfriend anyway.”

“who said i was?”

the small teasings got to the male as his hands placed itself on y/n’s chin to grab her attention, and placing a peck on the lips. her eyes slightly widened.

“did you really just kiss me because of that?”

“yeah, want me to do it again?” he teased with a smile. his head swooped in to place a longer kiss on her lips, only for her to dodge the kiss with a head turn.

“Y/N!”

“NOPE!”

she ran to their shared bedroom, jumping onto the bed for sunghoon to jump on as well. his eyes lingered on hers as he gently smiled.

“you got nowhere to go now.” he broke out, eyebrows raising in satisfaction.

“you’re right..” y/n said in defeat.

her hands instantly went to his stomach, leaving tickling touches around his body as he squirmed around.

“AH!” he yelled, back now laying on the bed as he screeched out another cry for help — “Y/N!”

the girl laughed to herself in amusement, watching him fall apart with just tickles. “this is what you get for ruining my videos!” she grinned ear to ear as her hands still went around his body.

a few more minutes passed and they were still quietly giggling with each other. y/n stopped her tickles once she figured hoon received enough.

they were cuddled up in each other’s arms as his hands played around her nails, leaving nonexistent scratches as she was comfortably settled with him.

“wanna go make dinner?”

“in a bit, i’m comfortable.”

he chuckled at her response before pulling her in closer.

they stayed in the same position for a few minutes longer, ultimately deciding on going into the kitchen to finally make dinner.

the night ended with the two finishing dinner, and then in warm hugs on the couch for a late night movie — both falling asleep to the sound of the film playing before humming in contentment.

★・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・★

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misshoneyimhome · 15 days

Note

When William says, "You'll have my credit card to purchase whatever you want while I fuck you," you don't know where to begin. Is he doing this because of the tense conversation you had earlier today, or is this just a fantasy of his? Your moan echoes as he presses his tip against your cunt. As you stare at your screen, you're taken aback by everything. He encourages you to "Come on, baby." He slowly drags himself into you, his hips eventually hitting your lower back when he gives you all of him. You feel your body tremble in pleasure as he takes his time to move in and out of you. His pace quickens as he pushes deeper into you, and you let out a loud moan. You find yourself completely and utterly lost in the moment. "Good girl," he says. "What do you want next, huh? A purse? Shoes?" "I… I don't know," you admit. "What you need is to be spoiled," he says sternly. We all know Willy loves exploring his fantasies with the inexperienced reader. #SlutsforPresidentNylander

Ah, at last, I've managed to get to this! 🤍 My apologies for the delay 🙏🏼

But let's pause for a moment and relish in the thought of William's desire to spoil his girl endlessly! 😏🥹

This chapter ended up being merged with [Cock-ring] [Bikini] and [Reversed Cowgirl] - And as always, I hope you enjoy it 🙏🏼

Warnings; 18+ smut (as always); public fingering (in dressing room), oral sex (f receiving), penetrative sex (p in v), cum inside, sex toy (cock ring), more penetrative sex (p in v), more cum inside; you know the drill 😂

「Inexperienced!reader x Willy」

"du är min vacka prinsessa" = You are my beautiful princess

"Och du är min underbara prins..." = And you are my handsome prince

Word count; 6K

・✶ ｡ﾟ

All good boys go to heaven - But bad boys bring heaven to you pt XIV I William Nylander 🖋️⚡️💦

No one discussed what went down last night. It had been one of the most disappointing, frustrating, and painful games in a while, as the Leafs had had the upper hand, leading 3-0 in the second period. However, things then took a turn for the worse, and the match against the Hurricanes ended 4-4 in regular time, with no goals in overtime, and after five saves, Guentzel managed to score the winning goal during the shootout.

Everyone on the team was devastated. Although they knew they had fought hard, they were all disappointed in themselves for letting go of the lead, resulting in a loss. And you knew there was no way to console your boyfriend, William Nylander. He had definitely given his all, but in the end, it didn't make much of a difference.

You could sense that he was trying to stay positive and keep his frustrations in check during the post-game interview, but not even all the cheerful green colours in the spirit of St. Patrick’s Day could bring much joy to the situation. Even when you got back home, William remained quiet. Although he usually had a knack for not letting things get to him for too long, that night, he just wanted silence.

But he knew you were there for him, no matter what, and that meant the world to you. So, as you settled into bed, you gently cuddled, watching a few Instagram reels together as you ran your fingers through his hair, knowing it helped calm and soothe him.

And as you slowly drifted off to sleep, he wrapped a strong arm around you and quietly whispered 'thank you for being with me' in your ear.

It was a tender moment, slowly giving way to a new day where William returned to his usual self and the loss was behind them. For now, he just needed to focus on the upcoming road trip.

And Sunday turned out to be nothing short of exciting. With green decorations adorning the city, everyone nursing hangovers from the St. Patrick's Day celebrations, you and William enjoyed your morning coffees, planning out your day together.

"So, where do you want to go?" William asked with a gentle smile as you both sat at the dining table.

"Well, I thought you'd be in charge today, considering you're the one known as 'Styles'," you chuckled lightly, referring to the nickname his teammates had given him for his keen fashion sense.

"Are you sure you want to give me that kind of power?" He grinned confidently, and you couldn't help but let out a laugh.

Pretending to consider his question for a moment, you flashed him a sweet smile. “Actually, this might just be the one thing I do trust you completely on.”

And you didn't regret it. William loved shopping, and taking you along was something he truly enjoyed, as he relished the opportunity to spoil you rotten. Whenever you browsed through clothing, shoes, or accessories, he just wanted to buy them all for you.

Not that you were in need of his financial support or anything like that. He understood that perfectly well. But he simply wanted to lavish you with gifts. In his eyes, you deserved the world, and he cherished the chance to share his hard-earned money with someone who made him happy.

Of course, you weren't with William for his money. That would be a dreadful thing to suggest. However, whenever he treated you, whether it was to a meal or a shopping spree, you naturally appreciated his generosity. Anything else would be ungrateful.

Still, you made it clear that you didn't always want him to pay the bill. You wanted to maintain your independence and feel like the strong, self-sufficient woman you were, having worked hard for your own money.

But then William just chuckled, pulled you close, and planted a kiss on your forehead. “I know you're a strong and independent woman with your own money, älskling, but you're still my princess, and if I want to spend my money on you, you can't do anything about it.”

And that pretty much settled the matter.

What did stir up some other emotions within you, though, was when you were strolling around in one of the stores and some of the sales ladies were more than willing to help the two of you out. Well, at least when they saw William, giving him their undivided attention.

Their interest in him was glaringly obvious, and you had to maintain your composure to avoid reacting too hastily or strongly. You wanted to appear like the cool and confident girlfriend that you were, knowing that William was yours and they could droll over him all they wanted because he was with you.

But as always, William saw right through you. And he couldn't help but grin.

"What?" You almost snorted.

"Oh, nothing, baby," William chuckled as he approached you in the middle of the upscale boutique. "You just don’t need to be so jealous."

"I'm not," you tried to assert confidently, but it was futile.

"Yes, you are, and I love it, älskling," William spoke gently, leaning in a little closer to you and placing a kiss on your forehead.

And of course, he was right, so you simply let out a humph and turned back to your browsing.

William had already taken you to all his favourite shops in the city, and as you felt your shopping trip slowly winding down, you decided to seek out the last thing you felt you needed: a bikini. Sure, summer was still a few months away, but as the girlfriends and wives of the team had a tendency to treat themselves, including you, to the occasional spa day, you felt that a new bikini was in order.

And naturally, you couldn't try it on without your boyfriend giving his opinion. He insisted on you modelling every piece of clothing so he could make a proper decision. Yet you knew it was just an excuse for William to join you in the dressing room.

"Mmm," he simply nodded as he sat on the stool inside the changing cabin, a smile spreading across his lips as his eyes hungrily admired you.

“Mmm?” You questioned with a raised eyebrow, catching his gaze in the mirror. “Is that all you’ve got to say?”

“There’s not much more to say, baby,” your boyfriend chuckled lightly, slowly rising from his seat as he moved closer to you, coming to stand behind you, leaning into whisper in your ear, his voice tinged with desire. “We both know you look fucking hot, and I'm having a hard time not just taking you right here, right now.”

The air felt heavy in the confined space of the dressing room, William's body gently pressing against yours as he let his hand explore your skin, tracing down past your belly button to the hem of the bikini bottoms.

“Willy… we can't do this in here…” you whispered, fully aware of his intentions and the presence of the sales staff just on the other side of the door. “There are people right outside…” your voice carried a hint of panic, though you were already feeling incredibly aroused by his light touches.

“Hasn’t stopped us before…” he murmured into the curve of your neck, planting a tender kiss just behind your ear.

And you couldn’t help but release a breath as he continued to pepper your neck with feather-light kisses, his fingers slowly slipping beneath the fabric.

You struggled to keep yourself composed as your body instinctively surrendered to him. Your palms sought the support of the mirror in front of you as you gently tilted your head to the side, offering him more access and closing your eyes.

“You’re just so fucking hot…” he hummed against your skin, steadying himself with his other hand against the mirror.

William's touch felt nothing short of magical. And as his skilled fingers found your sensitive spot, you couldn't help but gasp, doing your best to stifle a moan.

You could almost sense the hint of a smirk on his face as he gently teased your clit, circling it with care, making you concentrate on your breath.

"Does that feel good, baby?" he playfully asked, receiving a subtle nod from you.

Of course, it felt good. And he was well aware of it.

William observed you in the mirror as his fingers danced over your sensitive skin, tracing them lightly along your folds, eliciting soft moans from you. Despite feeling himself getting harder in his trousers, he paid it no mind. All he wanted was to bring you pleasure.

"Mmm..." you softly hummed as he intensified his touch slightly. Your legs were gradually growing weak as your body yearned to surrender completely, yet you remained composed. Simply allowing the mirror to support you as your mind drifted into a blissful haze. It was slow and sensual, yet undeniably pleasurable.

"Shit, baby," William exhaled as he watched your reaction to his touch, seeing your eyes narrow and your lips part. And when he felt the wetness between your legs, he couldn't resist and slid two fingers inside you.

You let out a gasp as you felt him fill you up, biting your lip to stifle any sounds, but you couldn't help it. Your breaths became deeper and heavier as William began to move his fingers, stimulating your walls with each motion.

"Willy..." you moaned, your fingers pressing against the mirror as you felt a familiar wave of pleasure building up.

"Yes, baby…," he murmured huskily in your ear. "Don’t hold back... you’re mine, and I want them to know it."

His words, coupled with his skilled fingers pumping inside you, sent your mind into overdrive, and soon you felt yourself nearing climax. William was intimately familiar with your body, knowing exactly how to push your buttons.

So, there you both stood in the dressing room, William pressing his body against yours as he expertly pleasured you, your hands gripping the mirror for support as your moans grew louder, he propelled you into ecstasy.

"Shit..." you cried out, and with just a few more thrusts of his fingers, you allowed yourself to lean your head back against his shoulder, surrendering to the pleasure as you reached your peak all over his fingers.

It was incredibly intense. Never had you imagined that a man could bring you to orgasm with just his fingers. Then again, in the past 8 months with William, you'd experienced at least 20 times more orgasms than in all the years with your ex-boyfriend.

And as William withdrew his fingers slowly, you gradually descended from your high, opening your eyes in the mirror to see William's smug expression. "Damn you, William Nylander," you sighed, still amazed at how he always managed to leave you in such a state.

"Oh, you love it, älskling," he chuckled, planting another kiss on the side of your head. "And I absolutely love it when you get jealous."

Giving him a small smile, you let out a laugh, shaking your head before turning to face him and starting to remove the bikini. "Well, I suppose we'll have to buy this bikini now..." you pointed out the damp patch on the bottoms, prompting him to join in your laughter.

"Yeah, I guess we do."

And as you exited the dressing room, you couldn't help but notice a few stares, while making your way to the register. With William sporting a noticeable bulge in his trousers, you leaned in close and spoke seductively, well aware of the curious glances from the sales assistants.

"Sorry I didn't get to take care of you too," you smirked up at him, gently pressing against his throbbing member. But William just returned your smirk.

"Don't worry, baby, we both know I'll get my revenge later," he raised an eyebrow, and you felt a pulsating sensation between your thighs as he made the final purchase.

Shopping with William always brought heartfelt laughter, making it simply delightful. And as you returned home, you couldn't help but admire all the items he'd generously gifted you.

"You know," you began as you sorted through the clothes from today's haul, "you could have let me pay for some of it."

Casually snacking in the kitchen, William turned to you with a puzzled expression. "And why's that?"

You looked at him with a thoughtful smile. "Because sometimes I just like to pay for myself as well..."

"But why? I can easily cover it for you," he replied as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Well, yes, but that's not the point... Willy, you already pay for this apartment, and whenever we go out for dinner or if you fly me out for an away game..." you tried to explain.

You knew it might sound odd. Most people would probably enjoy not having to pay for anything and letting someone else handle it. But a part of you felt a sense of pride when you treated yourself to something with money you'd worked hard for.

"So what?" William shrugged, his smile fading and his expression turning more serious. "Y/n, why can't you just enjoy the fact that I like taking care of you? I have more money than I need for myself, and with you, I finally have someone else to spend it on... It's my money, and I get to decide how to spend it!" His voice rose almost to a shout, indicating this wasn't a topic to argue about.

A moment of silence hung in the air as you processed his words. It wasn't just about buying things because he could. It held deeper meaning for him; gifting you everything you desired was his way of expressing love.

So, with a soft sigh, you approached him slowly, wrapping your arms around him and offering a gentle smile. "You're right... I'm sorry. I've just... I've been so proud of being independent, of doing well on my own, that it's hard for me to let go. I know I should be grateful for all you do for me... I just don't like feeling too reliant on you. Willy, I love you so much, but after what happened with Liam... how lost I felt when we broke up... I just don't want to feel that way again."

William allowed a moment for your words to sink in. Though he found your stance somewhat unreasonable, and he believed you should embrace his desire to take care of you both, he respected your perspective.

His hands settled on your waist as he pondered for a moment before speaking again. "You know... it's cute that you're saying that... but the thing is, it'll never be like with you and Liam, because that would mean we would break up, and... I kinda don't want that to happen."

You couldn't help but smile. Despite his boyish charm and occasional difficulty in expressing his thoughts and emotions verbally, you could tell he meant every word.

"I don't want that to happen either, Willy," you gazed up at him, then planted a quick kiss on his lips. "And I promise, I'll try to be better at just... enjoying the fact that you're treating me like this – I guess I've just never been a princess before."

William let out a heartfelt chuckle, knowing he'd been calling you his princess quite often lately. "What can I say... du är min vacka prinsessa," he said sweetly, leaning down to let his forehead touch yours.

You took a deep breath, cherishing the tender moment, before mustering the courage to say some words you'd been practicing. "Och du är min underbara prins..."

William pulled back slightly, his eyes widening as a smile spread across his lips. "What did you just say?" he chuckled lightly.

"Impressed?" you smirked sweetly. "Just something Amanda has been teaching me..."

"Really? What else has she been teaching you?"

Once again, you paused to gather your thoughts. Speaking Swedish to William was a something you hadn’t done before, as you felt a bit insecure about it. However, his response encouraged you to continue. Keeping your gaze fixed on him, you pressed your lips together.

"Jag älskar dig, hjärtat," you said softly, the words flowing from your heart, and William felt the sincerity behind them. Amidst discussions about pregnancy and starting a family in the future, your attempt to learn his family's language stirred something in him.

"How are you so fucking incredible?" he exclaimed.

And with that, William drew closer, bridging the gap between you as he gently held your face and pulled you into a deep, passionate kiss.

It wasn't messy, but it was filled with longing. He then swiftly lifted you in his arms and carried you to the bedroom, where he could finally satisfy the desires, he had had earlier.

For the next 40 minutes, William showed you the depth of his love. Taking his time, he pleasured you as if he had been starved for days. Sucking and licking to stimulate your core, tasting every drop of your essence, he brought you to two orgasms.

Your fingers gripped the sheets beneath you as he devoted himself entirely to you. And what followed next was pure lovemaking. Although you both enjoyed exploring your boundaries and pushing each other's limits, there was something special about good old-fashioned missionary. Especially when all you wanted was to express your deep love for each other.

It wasn’t intense climaxes either of you reached, but it was heartfelt and passionate. As if you both were able to share your deepest thoughts and desire, creating a bond of endorphins between you.

It was just one of those laid-back days where you both unwound and enjoyed each other’s company. After a long day of exploring the bustling city, followed by a gentle session of lovemaking, the two of you curled up together for a nap on the sofa.

William's body was always the perfect pillow to cuddle against, his natural warmth comforting your soul as you drifted into a peaceful sleep.

However, after the nap, you found yourself needing a bit of space. While William was a fantastic cuddler, it could sometimes get a bit too warm. So, as William played some PlayStation hockey with a couple of his teammates, you lounged on your stomach with your laptop, scrolling through various websites.

Lately, you'd been considering purchasing some specific items but had been hesitating due to their high prices. And maybe they were a tad overpriced.

"Just go for it already," you suddenly heard William's voice, interrupting your concentration. Clearly, he wasn't addressing his teammates.

"What?" you asked, turning your head to him, though his focus remained on the TV screen.

"Just buy it! You've been staring at the same thing for like an hour, babe," William chuckled.

And with a sigh, you turned back to your screen. "Ugh, I know. I really want it... but these Valentino heels are just... a bit beyond my budget," you confessed. "And they're no longer in production, so their prices just keep going up..."

Your eyes were practically glued to the beige pair of heels as you envisioned them adorning your feet. So absorbed were you in your contemplation that you didn't even notice William pausing his game until he hovered over you, his arms and knees on either side as his face came close to yours.

"Hmm, they do look amazing," he remarked, his blue eyes focused on the photo. Then, gently, he reached for the mousepad, silently adding the item to the cart and proceeding to the payment page. Without a word, he entered his card details and made the purchase. "There you go. Now they're yours."

You couldn't believe it. Firstly, how he could remember his card number, and secondly, that he'd just spent more money on you.

"Willy, you didn't just..."

But William simply chuckled, still hovering over you as he planted a kiss on your temple. "Of course, I did, babe... and now, you'll have my credit card to purchase whatever you want while I fuck you."

His words took you aback. If you weren't already slightly stunned by his actions, you certainly were now. Although you were wearing rather short shorts while lying on your stomach, perhaps with your backside slightly raised, you hadn't expected William to be up for another round so soon.

But you were so wrong. Slowly, he began to peel your shorts down your legs, effortlessly removing your pants in one smooth motion, all the while planting kisses on the nape of your neck. You weren't sure what to make of it. Was he doing this because of the tense conversation you had earlier, or was it just a fantasy of his? Maybe this spoiling thing went beyond a love language, and it was actually a kink of his.

Nevertheless, you couldn't resist surrendering to his touch once again. And as his fingers found their way between your cheeks, gently massaging your core, you couldn't help but let out soft moans of pleasure.

"Willy..." you breathed out as you felt his thick fingers teasing your entrance, easing in to stretch you before withdrawing. William knew he was skilled with his fingers, as he had proven just a few hours earlier. However, in this moment, he desired something else.

Standing from his seat, he removed his bottoms before returning to kneel on the sofa, positioning himself on either side of your legs. Wetting his fingers with his tongue to taste you, he then ran them over your folds before positioning himself. With the laptop screen still in front of you, displaying more desired items, you moaned again as you felt William's tip pressing against your entrance.

"Come on, baby," he spoke huskily, his breath tickling your ear and sending shivers down your spine. His words alone had your mind reeling, and as he slowly penetrated you, stretching your muscles with each inch, you felt a deeper sense of pleasure. "Good girl."

You couldn't hold back your moans as your boyfriend slowly filled you, their volume increasing as he reached your deepest point, gradually pulling back before thrusting in again, harder this time. And then he repeated the motion, establishing a slow and steady rhythm, stimulating your walls with his firm member.

"Mmm, yes, Willy," you moaned louder, feeling his pace quicken, his hips slamming against you faster and harder, penetrating you deeper with each thrust. The lovemaking from earlier had transformed into something more intense and forceful, but you welcomed it eagerly. William's cock felt incredible inside you, and you surrendered completely to the sensations, lost in the moment as pleasure built within you.

Meanwhile, William's moans echoed yours, his breath heavy as he pounded into you. "What do you want next, huh? A purse? Shoes?" His words came out between breaths, but it was difficult to focus when he was pleasuring you so intensely.

"I... I don't know," you admitted, your mind clouded with bliss, your body tingling with the approach of orgasm as William's perfectly curved shaft repeatedly hit your sensitive spot.

"What you need is to be spoiled," William moaned, increasing his thrusts as he felt climax approaching.

You realised this was definitely a kink for him. And as he drove you higher with each thrust, you gripped the sofa cushions tightly. "Mmm... Willy," you cried out. "I'm... close..."

Your words spurred him on, his pace becoming faster and more intense. "Fuck... baby, me too... come with me," he managed to say in a husky tone as he continued to pound against your buttocks, leaving a rosy hue on your skin.

It was all quite overwhelming, but as always, it was nothing short of incredible. Your body belonged to William, and he knew exactly how to please you. Whether it was his fingers, his mouth, or his delightful cock, everything he did felt amazing.

And as he kept on thrusting into your sweet warmth, he pushed both of you over the edge, your moans blending in a beautiful harmony throughout the living room. Waves of pleasure washed over your bodies as you both reached climax, your minds lost in ecstasy while William released his seed into you.

Returning to reality, you chuckled softly, surprised by the new sides to William's desires you continued to discover. And turning to look back at him as he sat on the sofa, you couldn't help but smile.

"Twice in one day, huh? I guess I really am being spoiled."

It was the perfect end to a perfect day. And these memories would be the perfect reference when you found yourself fantasising about William during his five days on the road.

The road trip flew by faster than expected, but that was a good thing, especially since you had a little purchase you were thrilled to share with your boyfriend.

William was always generous when it came to buying things for you, no matter what it was. He even replaced your laptop after breaking it back in Sweden. He'd buy you anything, especially his favourite: sex toys.

He'd gifted you a few items to explore with, and you hadn't complained. However, this time, you wanted to be the one making the purchase.

And after your shopping spree and discussion about money, you felt it was time to reciprocate. So, on Friday, when William was back in Toronto, you cheekily handed him the small box containing your purchase.

Lounging on the sofa, William chuckled lightly as he took the box. "What's this?" he asked, pausing the movie which was about to start.

"Just open it," you smiled, sitting beside him, your eyes fixed on him as he revealed the cock ring you'd bought.

"Oh, thanks, but babe?" William chuckled again. "Don't you think I last long enough already?"

You couldn't help but smile, having expected this reaction from him. "It's not just about that, Willy... look! It vibrates too."

William spent a few more minutes examining the item, and as he realised its potential, he became more intrigued about trying it out.

"Oh... well, we better put this to the test then," he smirked, leaning in to kiss your lips.

But you stopped him. "I thought you were too tired after the road trip and today's practice," you said softly, echoing his words from when he had first arrived home. "And your feet hurt..."

"Hmm..." William grumbled, his eyes still fixed on yours. "That's maybe a little true..."

"It's okay, baby. We can use it another time. I just really wanted to give it to you," you flashed him a sweet smile. "Besides, you can't always get hard when you're this exhausted," you pointed out, and eventually, William had to concede to your logic. Although he yearned for your touch, his body truly felt weary.

"Do you still want to give me a foot massage though?" William asked in his overly sweet tone, the one he used when he wanted something from you. And you couldn't help but smile at his attempt to pull off a pleading puppy face.

"Hmm, alright, I suppose you deserve it - take off your sweats then, Mister."

Although the team had the best masseuses and physiotherapists on hand, William cherished nothing more than when you offered him a massage. Not that you were particularly skilled, but it meant he could admire the sight of you gliding your oily hands over his tired legs. And sometimes, it could even lead to a spontaneous round of sex.

But for now, you simply settled into position, straddling his legs with your back against him so you could still watch the movie. After oiling up your hands, you began massaging his large, weary feet, taking your time to ensure William felt relaxed and ready for tomorrow's match. And as the movie played on, you gradually worked your way up his legs, adjusting your position as you went to reach higher.

His muscular legs felt incredible under your palms. God, he was so sexy, and the sensation of touching him made your core throb with desire.

Meanwhile, William admired your body before him. Dressed in a sleek dress from your dinner outing, your curves and your pert derrière were a sight to behold. The way you took your time, ensuring every potential sore muscle received attention, made him feel nothing but amazing.

But it was when your hips pressed against his groin that he felt something else stir. Initially too tired for anything sexual, the touch of your hands and the pressure of your cunt against his clothed cock nestled in his boxers aroused him irresistibly.

"Mmm," you heard William moan behind you suddenly. You hadn't intentionally grinded your hips against him; it was just a reflex as your mind wandered, and you enjoyed touching him. But you had no doubt what those noises meant.

Turning your head to glance back at him, you raised a brow. "Oh really? Are you sure you can get hard?"

"Only one way to find out, right," William simply smirked, resting his arm behind his head.

And intrigued by the challenge, you slowly began to roll your hips, grinding your cores together. Both of you felt a thrill of satisfaction as your needy cunt grew wetter with each movement, and William felt his member slowly hardening, his boxers becoming tighter with each motion.

The movie was nothing but background noise at this point as you both became more and more turned on, your soft moans escaped your lips as you increased your motions, grinding harder and faster, feeling your clit being stimulated by your own movement.

Looking back at the man beneath you, you noticed how he kept his eyes half-closed and his lips parted to breathe deeply. "Does this help?" you whispered seductively, knowing William didn’t need to reply - his hard cock speaking louder than words.

Basking in the sight before him, William watched you through half-closed lids, his hands finding your thighs and unintentionally guiding your movements. "Yeah, just like that," he groaned softly, feeling the urgency to remove the fabric between you growing stronger by the moment. "Good girl."

Sensing that William was eager to continue, you paused your movements, sitting up straighter and pulling your dress up over your body, letting it fall to the floor.

His eyes followed your every move, especially as you then rose from your seat and slid down your knickers. And in response, William pulled down his boxers, freeing his hard member, and kicked them aside. "Pass me the cock ring," he commanded, and with a smirk, you happily complied.

William hadn't used cock rings much before, mainly because he'd never had any issues with lasting during sex, but this one seemed to offer a new experience. And as he slid it on, feeling the initial tightness before adjusting to the sensation, he then switched it on.

"Oh," he let out a small noise, feeling a new wave of pleasure course through his crotch.

"A good 'oh'?" you asked, hopeful that it wasn't uncomfortable for him.

"Definitely."

And soon, you were back in your previous position, at William's command, offering him the best view of your ass. It was a new position for you both to try, but what made it even more exciting was feeling the vibrations as you slowly let William's cock fill you up.

"Oh, fuck..." you moaned as he hit the end of your depth, your core pulsating against him.

"Please, baby... Move..."

And without hesitation, you began to rock your hips once more, allowing him to slide in and out of your throbbing cunt. However, supporting your hands on his legs as you moved, the massage oil made it a challenge to maintain your grip.

But William's firm grip on your hips helped stabilise you. And as you rode him in reserved cowgirl, both of you were surprised by just how good it felt. His shaft found your sensitive spot, much like in doggy style, while William's mind spun with pleasure as he felt your tight walls clenching around him, your ass bouncing right in front of him. Combined with the intense vibrations from the cock ring, you both felt an impending orgasm building.

"Shit... baby, it feels so good," William moaned softly, his eyes catching sight of your reflection in one of the decorative mirrors across the living room. Your face was breath taking as your parted lips gasped for air, your eyes struggling to stay open as you pleasured yourself on his cock. It was incredibly arousing, and his eyes were fixed on the sight as you slowly increased the pace.

"Willy..." you moaned, a mix of overstimulation and tiredness washing over you with every movement.

"Yes, baby... Mmm, I'm getting close..."

Not only had you managed to make William hard despite his fatigue, but your little gift and the new position had also brought him closer to climax sooner than expected. And you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride.

Usually, it'd be William taking charge, sending your mind reeling as he fucked you into oblivion. But tonight, things were different. William was the one struggling to hold back, his eagerness palpable as he tried to thrust into you.

Still, he tried to control himself, aiming for you both to climax together. Yet, it seemed as if the road trip had taken its toll on him. Without the chance to masturbate, he was more prone to reaching orgasm sooner than usual, and tonight seemed like one of those nights.

You felt your own climax slowly approaching, prompting you to push yourself to increase the pace, riding William with all your strength. Yet, it was overwhelming. Your legs ached, and the sensations of the vibrations sent your mind spinning, making it hard to keep a steady rhythm.

All you could think, was that you couldn't stop until William came to release, and thankfully, it didn't take much longer. With a few more minutes of fervent movements, William's chest rose and fell heavily, his deep breaths escaping him as he closed his eyes, letting out a deep grunt and released into you.

The living room felt oppressively warm, your bodies still connected as you both caught your breath. However, you knew you had to move, the sensations from the cock ring still coursing through you. And as you slowly disengaging from William, you couldn't help but smile at his satisfied yet slightly defeated expression.

Gently removing the toy from him, William looked at you with a tired but content expression. "Shit, that was hot..."

You returned his sly smirk, settling back onto the sofa, trying to avoid any of his release from staining the fabric. "It definitely was..."

"But I'm sorry you didn't get to come, baby," William said, sitting up to cup your face.

"It's alright, Willy," you chuckled softly. "I think I’m a few orgasms ahead of you... besides, this was pretty intense for me too, so it's okay."

William accepted your words, though he usually preferred it when you climaxed as well. But considering the spontaneity of tonight and your exhaustion, he let it slide.

"Well, thanks for the gift, baby. I hope it did something for you too," he said softly, a smirk dancing on his lips.

"Oh, it definitely did..."

You could almost still feel the lingering sensations from the vibrations in your cunt, and while you hadn't reached climax, you'd still experienced intense pleasure.

"I guess I don't mind you spending some money on me too then," William chuckled, pulling on his boxers before pulling you in for a cuddle.

"I guess you don’t."

It was another simple yet enjoyable evening, where you shared your deepest feelings, and the love between you was undeniable. Yet, there was one thing you wanted to discuss, something you'd been considering and were now ready to talk about.

"By the way, Willy, I've been thinking of giving up my studio completely..." you began, watching William's expression closely.

William couldn't help but smile. He knew this decision wasn't easy for you, but to him, it signified your trust and commitment to your relationship. It simply showed that you believed in him without reservation.

"Finally.”

#my asks #18+#Inexperienced!reader x Willy #william nylander imagine #nhl smut #wn88 imagine #william nylander smut #nhl hockey imagine #toronto maple leafs imagine #SlutsforPresidentNylander

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pawnshopbleus · 5 months

Note

The songbird was soo good I’m a sucker for jealousy 💗 could you maybe do jealous!snow x reader 🤭 ik he’d be so broody and hot

Flickerman's Charm

Summary - Lucretius "Lucky" Flickerman was charismatic and charming, not to mention pretty handsome. Women all over Panem (well, the ones with televisions) fawned over the weathercaster. He seemed harmless enough, but during the games, Lucretius gets a little too close to you and Coriolanus doesn’t like it.

Warning - Jealous Coriolanus, Cunty Draco Malfoy can do no wrong, P in V sex, Quickie in a closet, possessive Coriolanus. No contraceptives, Creampie, Coral slander (She's the 'District Four scum.' I did not like her 🤷🏿‍♀️), Mention of death, Not beta read :0

Author's Note - I AM OBSESSED WITH MAKING THE READER A PLINTH!! Anon, I hope I made you proud.

You cursed under your breath as you watched the big screen. Your tribute had been killed in the most brutal way. Your heart hurts for the poor kid. He was so young, so full of life, and now he was dead. Dead in less than twenty seconds by a group of tributes that had made an alliance. They stole his food and medicine. The food and medicine that you had begged your father for was now in the hands of some District Four scum.

With a huff, you remove yourself from your seat and sit with the other students from the Academy in the regular audience. Your classmates patted you on the back and gave their condolences as you sat there with your arms crossed.

Your reaction was better than your brother who threw his desk in anger as he saw his tribute, Marcus. He was strung up by steel poles and left to hang by his manacles. He was alive but badly beaten, but Sejanus didn’t know that. He was gone before he could see that Marcus was still alive, but there was no saving him. He was mercifully killed by another tribute.

His reaction was understandable. Marcus and him were boys together. They were one and the same, but the Plinths had money. They could afford to get out of there, but if they hadn't, that could have been Sejanus or you up there. That thought caused a chill to run down your spine.

Lucretius "Lucky" Flickerman had announced your tribute's death and watched you walk away. He said something witty and winked at the camera. Coriolanus subtly rolled his eyes and focused his attention back on the big screen.

It had been some time since the last death. People yawned and talked as the cameras flicked between tributes. It was quiet and dead. For the first time that night, there was no action going on. Coriolanus finally let his shoulders fall. He had been so tense throughout the entire first half of the games. At first, Lucy Grey didn’t take his advice. She was selfless and wanted to help the other tribute from her district. That would have been admirable if it wasn’t a life-or-death situation.

Coriolanus got up from his desk and scanned the room for you. He wanted to check in on you and see if you were okay. He knew that the games were hard for you and Sejanus. You two weren’t born in the capital which made you stand out. No matter how much money you had, people would still consider you District trash. Not him though. You were so much more than your status and wealth. You were kind, funny, bright, and extremely beautiful. Coriolanus was lucky you picked him. Out of every man in the Capital, you picked him.

Coriolanus’s eyes found you in the corner of the room. You were sitting in a chair while Flickerman leaned up against the wall. You looked up at him eagerly and ready to please. Flickerman tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear and tapped your chin affectionately. To the untrained eye, these gestures might have seemed innocent, but to Coriolanus, they didn’t.

His hands balled up into fists at his sides. He had to bite his lip to stop himself from yelling. He didn’t blame you, of course. You could do no wrong. It was Flickerman who was in the wrong. He was so much older than you. He was taking advantage of someone younger and sweeter.

He couldn’t believe the balls of this man. Everyone in the Capital knew that Coriolanus Snow and the daughter of Strabo Plinth were in a very committed relationship. Flickerman must have had a death wish because he patted your cheek affectionately. Coriolanus was the only one who was allowed to touch you. Coriolanus was the only one who got the pleasure of feeling your soft skin under his touch.

Before he knew it, Coriolanus was standing in front of you and Flickerman. He didn’t say a word as he grabbed you by your upper arm and pulled you out of the screening room. He didn’t care that the games were just starting to get interesting. He didn’t care that him storming out with you in his arms had just been broadcast on live television. All he cared about in this moment was you, and only you.

He dragged you to a closet not too far from the screening room. People gave the two of you confused looks as you stumbled every few steps.

Coriolanus pushed you into the dark closet and followed you in. He slammed the door behind him, leaving the two of you in the dark closet. The room was cold and you shuddered at the thought of what might come next.

“Coryo, what are you-”

You were shut up by Coriolanus' lips on yours. His lips moved in tandem with yours as the kiss got deeper and deeper. Coriolanus’s hands snaked up to the sides of your face, guiding you through the kiss. His lips were soft, contrasting the rhythm of the kiss. His body melted into yours. His hips rutted into yours as the two of you got carried away.

Coriolanus pulled away. He softly placed his forehead on yours and looked into your half-lidded eyes.

“Who do you belong to?” he asked, his mouth just inches away from yours.

You smirked, “No one.”

“Who do you belong to?” he bellowed. The people outside of the closet must have been too naive or too invested in the drama to care about Coriolanus's tone.

“You,” you breathed as you kissed him this time. He ripped his uniform off of himself and returned to the warmth of your lips. He squeezed at the flesh of your hips, silently begging you to take off your pants. You followed his request and kicked the red pants and skirt off of you. The Academy’s uniform was very impractical during this time.

Coriolanus' breathing was heavy from kissing you. “Are you sure you want this?” Like the gentleman he is, he asked for your consent. Even during the heated moments of passion, he wanted to let you know that you had the opportunity to say ‘no.’

You nodded your head but that wasn’t good enough. He bit the sensitive part of your neck, urging you to use your words. “Yes, Coryo. Fuck me.”

And he did just that. You were already wet from the way his hips rutted into yours earlier. That simple action made your clit throb and pussy soak your two hundred-dollar panties. Coriolanus flipped you around. Your clothed chest was against the cold wall of the closet and your legs were spread, exposing your cunt to the cold air. Coriolanus circled your clit with the tip of his hard cock and smeared your slick all along his length.

“Look at you. Already wet and I haven’t even touched you.” That was a lie. He’s done a lot more than just touch you, but you didn’t want to correct him.

Coriolanus slowly eased into you, letting your pussy stretch deliciously around him. He groaned in pleasure as your insides welcomed him with ease. You were made for him and only him.

Coriolanus’s hips slapped into your ass as he began to thrust in and out of you. He couldn’t choose what to do with his hands so he decided to alternate between slapping your ass cheeks and holding onto your waist. You, on the other hand, had one hand clamped over your mouth and the other was planted on the wall.

Coriolanus guided your hand from the wall to your clit, urging you to play with it. God, did it feel good. With his balls slapping your tender pussy, and his cock thrusting in and out of you, your clit was already begging to be played with. She was insatiable and begged to be the object that you spent the most time focusing on. You rubbed your clit from side to side, back and forth, trying to find the right angle until you found it. Your eyes fluttered close as you let out a silent moan, loving the way everything felt. Even though the closet was colder than ice, you were getting warm. Your hand rubbed your clit faster and faster as Coriolanus’s thrust matched your movements. If he kept going like that, you were going to come. The delicious thrust against your G-spot caused you to arch your back, searching for a deeper angle.

Coriolanus moaned at the newfound angle. You were so goddamn beautiful and for a split second, he couldn’t believe that you were real. He couldn’t believe that you chose him to be your boyfriend when there were more suitable men in the Capital, but he was thankful that you chose him. So thankful that he was the only one who could feel the way your pussy spasmed as you came. Your body shook with intense pleasure and Coriolanus continued his persistent thrusts, guiding you through your orgasm.

Coriolanus was close too. The way your pussy squeezed his cock made him double over in pleasure. His thrusts became slow and drawn out. His breathing became labored and rough as he tried to hold off his orgasm. Not too long after, he came inside of you. His cock painted your insides white. You could feel his throbbing cock release inside of you, and you nearly came again.

He slowly eased out of you. He knew how sensitive you were after sex and he always tried to make sure that this part was as painless as possible. He grabbed your underwear from the floor and handed them to you. His come had already begun to drip down your thighs. The sight made his cock twitch. You slide your panties up your thighs and let them take their rightful place on your pussy, trapping his come inside of you.

Once the two of you were fully dressed and ready, Coriolanus placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. “You did so good for me, dove. I’m sorry I was so rough earlier.”

“It’s okay,” you mumbled. “I just want to know what I did wrong.”

Coriolanus sighed, “You did nothing wrong. It was Flickerman.”

You were confused as to what Coriolanus was referring to. All he did was tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear and oh- Was Coriolanus jealous?

“Coryo, you have nothing to worry about. I only have eyes for you.” You booped his nose affectionately which caused him to crinkle it and smile. A smile from him was rare these days. He was always so stressed about school, money, the games, or how he was going to style his hair in the mornings.

Outside of the closet, cheers could be heard. You looked at Coriolanus in the dark closet and he opened the door. It took your eyes a few seconds to adjust to the light from the hallway. Coriolanus looked at you in the light and you looked at him. The two of you definitely looked like you two just fucked. You went to go fix your hair, but he moved your hand away from your own hair.

“Leave it. I want them to know that I'm the only man that can fuck you."

#coriolanus snow x reader #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #smut #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow #the hunger games

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gimmeyourlovepls · 6 months

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Earth 42! Miles Morales x Reader Headcanons <3

a/n: hi guys! sorry ive been gone for a hot second, my mental health is declining just like my grades 😍 anyway, enjoy!

ok, i know that miles would act so stoic at first but he'd show his affection in little ways

like anything from a good morning note to chocolates, your gonna get at least one a week

even though he doesnt write his name on the gifts, you always know its him, and you make sure to give him a little hug or kiss :)

ok, so ive had this thought in my head for a while, but miles would totally have glasses

like, you see how much he's working on tech and junk, you know his eyesight is gonna be at least a little bad

but he doesnt wear them because he thinks theyre nerdy

until you find out :0

"hey miles, are these your glasses? how come ive never seen you wear them? can you put em on?"

from then on, you start begging him to put them on, but he always says no

until one day, when you are lying on the couch, asking him to put them on, when he finally says yes.

he puts them on, smiling at you slightly, and you just start attacking him with kisses

"mi amor, calm down!" "nah, my man looks too handsome"

from then on, he finally wears his glasses (at least when hes alone with you)

and everytime you bombard him with many, many kisses (which he doesnt mind in the slightest)

you two are so in love

but sometimes it leads to jealousy

not only from miles, but from you

one time he saw you chatting to this boy and as soon as you two were alone he wouldnt let you go till he was sure you were his

the boy you were talking to was literally your cousin 💀

but if it meant getting extra kisses from miles, you were not complaining

you've had your fair share of jealous moments too

like when miles was partnered with this girl for a project

she was being a little too nice with him

so you walked over there, hair swaying behind you, and sat on miles' lap at the table they were working at

you kept rubbing his arm and pressing little kisses on his cheek until their working time was over and they finished the project

and you walked outta there on miles' arm

you and miles had a talk after that, and theirs not that many of those moments anymore

however miles is DEFINETLY jealous and happy at the same time at the relationship you have with his mom

because he wants his mom to like you, duh

but when you and her are talking like you've known eachother since birth, he gets a little left out

dont worry tho, he loves u and your mom, you two are his favorite ladies

a/n: i hope you enjoyed! i have homework to do, but i might do a part 2 if yall want. pls give me requests for writing! ilysm, have a great life!

#earth42!miles #earth42!miles x reader #across the spiderverse #miles morales prowler #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 #miles x reader #miles morales x reader

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rhysdarbinizedarby · 5 months

Text

Couch surfer in his 30s. Oscar winner in his 40s. Why the whole world wants Taika

**Notes: This is very long post!**

Good Weekend

In his 30s, he was sleeping on couches. By his 40s, he’d directed a Kiwi classic, taken a Marvel movie to billion-dollar success, and won an Oscar. Meet Taika Waititi, king of the oddball – and one of New Zealand’s most original creative exports.

Taika Waititi: “Be a nice person and live a good life. And just don’t be an arsehole.”

The good news? Taika Waititi is still alive. I wasn’t sure. The screen we were speaking through jolted savagely a few minutes ago, with a cacophonous bang and a confused yelp, then radio silence. Now the Kiwi filmmaker is back, grinning like a loon: “I just broke the f---ing table, bro!”

Come again? “I just smashed this f---ing table and glass flew everywhere. It’s one of those old annoying colonial tables. It goes like this – see that?” Waititi says, holding up a folding furniture leg. “I hit the mechanism and it wasn’t locked. Anyway …”

I’m glad he’s fine. The stuff he’s been saying from his London hotel room could incur biblical wrath. We’re talking about his latest project, Next Goal Wins, a movie about the American Samoa soccer team’s quest to score a solitary goal, 10 years after suffering the worst loss in the game’s international history – a 31-0 ignominy to Australia – but our chat strays into spirituality, then faith, then religion.

“I don’t personally believe in a big guy sitting on a cloud judging everyone, but that’s just me,” Waititi says, deadpan. “Because I’m a grown-up.”

This is the way his interview answers often unfold. Waititi addresses your topic – dogma turns good people bad, he says, yet belief itself is worth lauding – but bookends every response with a conspiratorial nudge, wink, joke or poke. “Regardless of whether it’s some guy living on a cloud, or some other deity that you’ve made up – and they’re all made up – the message across the board is the same, and it’s important: Be a nice person, and live a good life. And just don’t be an arsehole!”

Not being an arsehole seems to have served Waititi, 48, well. Once a national treasure and indie darling (through the quirky tenderness of his breakout New Zealand films Boy in 2010 and Hunt for the Wilderpeople in 2016), Waititi then became a star of both the global box office (through his 2017 entry into the Marvel Universe, Thor: Ragnarok, which grossed more than $1.3 billion worldwide) and then the Academy Awards (winning the 2020 best adapted screenplay Oscar for his subversive Holocaust dramedy JoJo Rabbit, in which he played an imaginary Hitler).

Waititi playing Adolf Hitler in the 2019 movie JoJo Rabbit. (Alamy)

A handsome devil with undeniable roguish charm, Waititi also slid seamlessly into style-icon status (attending this year’s Met Gala shirtless, in a floor-length gunmetal-grey Atelier Prabal Gurung wrap coat, with pendulous pearl necklaces), as well as becoming his own brand (releasing an eponymous line of canned coffee drinks) and bona fide Hollywood A-lister (he was introduced to his second wife, British singer Rita Ora, by actor Robert Pattinson at a barbecue).

Putting that platform to use, Waititi is an Indigenous pioneer and mentor, too, co-creating the critically acclaimed TV series Reservation Dogs, while co-founding the Piki Films production company, committed to promoting the next generation of storytellers – a mission that might sound all weighty and worthy, yet Waititi’s new wave of First Nations work is never earnest, always mixing hurt with heart and howling humour.

Waititi with wife Rita Ora at the 2023 Met Gala in May. (Getty Images)

Makes sense. Waititi is a byproduct of “the weirdest coupling ever” – his late Maori father from the Te Whanau-a-Apanui tribe was an artist, farmer and “Satan’s Slaves” bikie gang founder, while his Wellington schoolteacher mum descended from Russian Jews, although he’s not devout about her faith. (“No, I don’t practise,” he confirms. “I’m just good at everything, straight away.”)

He’s remained loyally tethered to his origin story, too – and to a cadre of creative Kiwi mates, including actors Jemaine Clement and Rhys Darby – never forgetting that not long before the actor/writer/producer/director was an industry maven, he was a penniless painter/photographer/ musician/comedian.

With no set title and no fixed address, he’s seemingly happy to be everything, everywhere (to everyone) all at once. “‘The universe’ is bandied around a lot these days, but I do believe in the kind of connective tissue of the universe, and the energy that – scientifically – we are made up of a bunch of atoms that are bouncing around off each other, and some of the atoms are just squished together a bit tighter than others,” he says, smiling. “We’re all made of the same stardust, and that’s pretty special.”

-----------------------------------------------

We’ve caught Waititi in a somewhat relaxed moment, right before the screen actors’ and media artists’ strike ends. He’s sensitive to the struggle but doesn’t deny enjoying the break. “I spent a lot of time thinking about writing, and not writing, and having a nice holiday,” he tells Good Weekend. “Honestly, it was a good chance just to recombobulate.”

Waititi, at right, with Hunt for the Wilderpeople actors, from left, Sam Neill, Rhys Darby and Julian Dennison. (Getty Images)

It’s mid-October, and he’s just headed to Paris to watch his beloved All Blacks in the Rugby World Cup. He’s deeply obsessed with the game, and sport in general. “Humans spend all of our time knowing what’s going to happen with our day. There’s no surprises any more. We’ve become quite stagnant. And I think that’s why people love sport, because of the air of unpredictability,” he says. “It’s the last great arena entertainment.”

The main filmic touchstone for Next Goal Wins (which premieres in Australian cinemas on New Year’s Day) would be Cool Runnings (1993), the unlikely true story of a Jamaican bobsled team, but Waititi also draws from genre classics such as Any Given Sunday and Rocky, sampling trusted tropes like the musical training montage. (His best one is set to Everybody Wants to Rule the World by Tears for Fears.)

Filming in Hawaii was an uplifting experience for the self-described Polynesian Jew. “It wasn’t about death, or people being cruel to each other. Thematically, it was this simple idea, of getting a small win, and winning the game wasn’t even their goal – their goal was to get a goal,” he says. “It was a really sweet backbone.”

Waititi understands this because, growing up, he was as much an athlete as a nerd, fooling around with softball and soccer before discovering rugby league, then union. “There’s something about doing exercise when you don’t know you’re doing exercise,” he enthuses. “It’s all about the fun of throwing a ball around and trying to achieve something together.” (Whenever Waititi is in Auckland he joins his mates in a long-running weekend game of touch rugby. “And then throughout the week I work out every day. Obviously. I mean, look at me.”)

Auckland is where his kids live, too, so he spends as much time there as possible. Waititi met his first wife, producer Chelsea Winstanley, on the set of Boy in 2010, and they had two daughters, Matewa Kiritapu, 8, and his firstborn, Te Kainga O’Te Hinekahu, 11. (The latter is a derivative of his grandmother’s name, but he jokes with American friends that it means “Resurrection of Tupac” or “Mazda RX7″) Waititi and Winstanley split in about 2018, and he married the pop star Ora in 2022.

He offers a novel method for balancing work with parenthood … “Look, you just abandon them, and know that the experience will make them harder individuals later on in life. And it’s their problem,” he says. “I’m going to give them all of the things that they need, and I’m going to leave behind a decent bank account for their therapy, and they will be just like me, and the cycle will continue.”

Jokes aside – I think he’s joking – school holidays are always his, and he brings the girls onto the set of every movie he makes. “They know enough not to get in the way or touch anything that looks like it could kill you, and they know to be respectful and quiet when they need to. But they’re just very comfortable around filmmakers, which I’m really happy about, because eventually I hope they will get into the industry. One more year,” he laughs, “then they can leave school and come work for Dad.”

Theirs is certainly a different childhood than his. Growing up, he was a product of two worlds. His given names, for instance, were based on his appearance at birth: “Taika David” if he looked Maori (after his Maori grandfather) and “David Taika” if he looked Pakeha (after his white grandfather). His parents split when he was five, so he bounced between his dad’s place in Waihau Bay, where he went by the surname Waititi, and his mum, eight hours drive away in Wellington, where he went by Cohen (the last name on his birth certificate and passport).

Waititi was precocious, even charismatic. His mother Robin once told Radio New Zealand that people always wanted to know him, even as an infant: “I’d be on a bus with him, and he was that kind of baby who smiled at people, and next thing you know they’re saying, ‘Can I hold your baby?’ He’s always been a charmer to the public eye.”

He describes himself as a cool, sporty, good-looking nerd, raised on whatever pop culture screened on the two TV channels New Zealand offered in the early 1980s, from M*A*S*H and Taxi to Eddie Murphy and Michael Jackson. He was well-read, too. When punished by his mum, he would likely be forced to analyse a set of William Blake poems.

He puts on a whimpering voice to describe their finances – “We didn’t have much monneeey” – explaining how his mum spent her days in the classroom but also worked in pubs, where he would sit sipping a raspberry lemonade, doodling drawings and writing stories. She took in ironing and cleaned houses; he would help out, learning valuable lessons he imparts to his kids. “And to random people who come to my house,” he says. “I’ll say, ‘Here’s a novel idea, wash this dish,’ but people don’t know how to do anything these days.”

“Every single character I’ve ever written has been based on someone I’ve known or met or a story I’ve stolen from someone.” - Taika Waititi

He loved entertaining others, clearly, but also himself, recording little improvised radio plays on a tape deck – his own offbeat versions of ET and Indiana Jones and Star Wars. “Great free stuff where you don’t have any idea what the story is as you’re doing it,” he says. “You’re just sort of making it up and enjoying the freedom of playing god in this world where you can make people and characters do whatever you want.”

His other sphere of influence lay in Raukokore, the tiny town where his father lived. Although Boy is not autobiographical, it’s deeply personal insofar as it’s filmed in the house where he grew up, and where he lived a life similar to that portrayed in the story, surrounded by his recurring archetypes: warm grandmothers and worldly kids; staunch, stoic mums; and silly, stunted men. “Every single character I’ve ever written has been based on someone I’ve known or met,” he says, “or a story I’ve stolen from someone.”

He grew to love drawing and painting, obsessed early on with reproducing the Sistine Chapel. During a 2011 TED Talk on creativity, Waititi describes his odd subject matter, from swastikas and fawns to a picture of an old lady going for a walk … upon a sword … with Robocop. “My father was an outsider artist, even though he wouldn’t know what that meant,” Waititi told the audience in Doha. “I love the naive. I love people who can see things through an innocent viewpoint. It’s inspiring.”

After winning Best Adapted Screenplay Academy Award for JoJo Rabbit in 2020. (Getty Images)

It was an interesting time in New Zealand, too – a coming-of-age decade in which the Maori were rediscovering their culture. His area was poor, “but only financially,” he says. “It’s very rich in terms of the people and the culture.” He learned kapa haka – the songs, dances and chants performed by competing tribes at cultural events, or to honour people at funerals and graduations – weddings, parties, anything. “Man, any excuse,” he explains. “A big part of doing them is to uplift your spirits.”

Photography was a passion, so I ask what he shot. “Just my penis. I sent them to people, but we didn’t have phones, so I would print them out, post them. One of the first dick pics,” he says. Actually, his lens was trained on regular people. He watches us still – in airports, restaurants. “Other times late at night, from a tree. Whatever it takes to get the story. You know that.”

He went to the Wellington state school Onslow College and did plays like Androcles and the Lion, A Midsummer Night’s Dream and The Crucible. His crew of arty students eventually ended up on stage at Bats Theatre in the city, where they would perform haphazard comedy shows for years.

“Taika was always rebellious and wild in his comedy, which I loved,” says his high school mate Jackie van Beek, who became a longtime collaborator, including working with Waititi on a Tourism New Zealand campaign this year. “I remember he went through a phase of turning up in bars around town wearing wigs, and you’d try and sit down and have a drink with him but he’d be doing some weird character that would invariably turn up in some show down the track.”

He met more like-minded peers at Victoria University, including Jemaine Clement (who’d later become co-creator of Flight of the Conchords). During a 2019 chat with actor Elijah Wood, Waititi describes he and Clement clocking one another from opposite sides of the library one day: a pair of Maoris experiencing hate at first sight, based on a mutual suspicion of cultural appropriation. (Clement was wearing a traditional tapa cloth Samoan shirt, and Waititi was like: “This motherf---er’s not Samoan.” Meanwhile, Waititi was wearing a Rastafarian beanie, and Clement was like, “This motherf---er’s not Jamaican.”)

With Jemaine Clement in 2014. (Getty Images)

But they eventually bonded over Blackadder and Fawlty Towers, and especially Kenny Everett, and did comedy shows together everywhere from Edinburgh to Melbourne. Waititi was almost itinerant, spending months at a time busking, or living in a commune in Berlin. He acted in a few small films, and then – while playing a stripper on a bad TV show – realised he wanted to try life behind the camera. “I became tired of being told what to do and ordered around,” he told Wellington’s Dominion Post in 2004. “I remember sitting around in the green room in my G-string thinking, ‘Why am I doing this? Just helping someone else to realise their dream.’ ”

He did two strong short films, then directed his first feature – Eagle vs Shark (2007) – when he was 32. He brought his mates along (Clement, starring with Waititi’s then-girlfriend Loren Horsley), setting something of a pattern in his career: hiring friends instead of constantly navigating new working relationships. “If you look at things I’m doing,” he tells me, “there’s always a few common denominators.”

Sam Neill says Waititi is the exemplar of a new New Zealand humour. “The basis of it is this: we’re just a little bit crap at things.”

This gang of collaborators shares a common Kiwi vibe, too, which his longtime friend, actor Rhys Darby, once coined “the comedy of the mundane”. Their new TV show, Our Flag Means Death, for example, leans heavily into the mundanity of pirate life – what happens on those long days at sea when the crew aren’t unsheathing swords from scabbards or burying treasure.

Waititi plays pirate captain Blackbeard, centre, in Our Flag Means Death, with Rhys Darby, left, and Rory Kinnear. (Google Images)

Sam Neill, who first met Waititi when starring in Hunt for the Wilderpeople, says Waititi is the exemplar of a new New Zealand humour. “And I think the basis of it is this,” says Neill. “We’re just a little bit crap at things, and that in itself is funny.” After all, Neill asks, what is What We Do in The Shadows (2014) if not a film (then later a TV show) about a bunch of vampires who are pretty crap at being vampires, living in a pretty crappy house, not quite getting busted by crappy local cops? “New Zealand often gets named as the least corrupt country in the world, and I think it’s just that we would be pretty crap at being corrupt,” Neill says. “We don’t have the capacity for it.”

Waititi’s whimsy also spurns the dominant on-screen oeuvre of his homeland – the so-called “cinema of unease” exemplified by the brutality of Once Were Warriors (1994) and the emotional peril of The Piano (1993). Waititi still explores pathos and pain, but through laughter and weirdness. “Taika feels to me like an antidote to that dark aspect, and a gift somehow,” Neill says. “And I’m grateful for that.”

-----------------------------------------------

Something happened to Taika Waititi when he was about 11 – something he doesn’t go into with Good Weekend, but which he considered a betrayal by the adults in his life. He mentioned it only recently – not the moment itself, but the lesson he learnt: “That you cannot and must not rely on grown-ups to help you – you’re basically in the world alone, and you’re gonna die alone, and you’ve just gotta make it all for yourself,” he told Irish podcast host James Brown. “I basically never forgave people in positions of responsibility.”

What does that mean in his work? First, his finest films tend to reflect the clarity of mind possessed by children, and the unseen worlds they create – fantasies conjured up as a way to understand or overcome. (His mum once summed up the main message of Boy: “The unconditional love you get from your children, and how many of us waste that, and don’t know what we’ve got.”)

Second, he’s suited to movie-making – “Russian roulette with art” – because he’s drawn to disruptive force and chaos. And that in turn produces creative defiance: allowing him to reinvigorate the Marvel Universe by making superheroes fallible, or tell a Holocaust story by making fun of Hitler. “Whenever I have to deal with someone who’s a boss, or in charge, I challenge them,” he told Brown, “and I really do take whatever they say with a pinch of salt.”

It’s no surprise then that Waititi was comfortable leaping from independent films to the vast complexity of Hollywood blockbusters. He loves the challenge of coordinating a thousand interlocking parts, requiring an army of experts in vocations as diverse as construction, sound, art, performance and logistics. “I delegate a lot,” he says, “and share the load with a lot of people.”

“This is a cool concept, being able to afford whatever I want, as opposed to sleeping on couches until I was 35.” - Taika Waititi

But the buck stops with him. Time magazine named Waititi one of its Most Influential 100 People of 2022. “You can tell that a film was made by Taika Waititi the same way you can tell a piece was painted by Picasso,” wrote Sacha Baron Cohen. Compassionate but comic. Satirical but watchable. Rockstar but auteur. “Actually, sorry, but this guy’s really starting to piss me off,” Cohen concluded. “Can someone else write this piece?”

Directing Chris Hemsworth in 2017 in Thor: Ragnarok, which grossed more than $1.3 billion at the box office. (Alamy)

I’m curious to know how he stays grounded amid such adulation. Coming into the game late, he says, helped immensely. After all, Waititi was 40 by the time he left New Zealand to do Thor: Ragnarok. “If you let things go to your head, then it means you’ve struggled to find out who you are,” he says. “But I’ve always felt very comfortable with who I am.” Hollywood access and acclaim – and the pay cheques – don’t erase memories of poverty, either. “It’s more like, ‘Oh, this is a cool concept, being able to afford whatever I want, as opposed to sleeping on couches until I was 35.’ ” Small towns and strong tribes keep him in check, too. “You know you can’t piss around and be a fool, because you’re going to embarrass your family,” he says. “Hasn’t stopped me, though.”

Sam Neill says there was never any doubt Waititi would be able to steer a major movie with energy and imagination. “It’s no accident that the whole world wants Taika,” he says. “But his seductiveness comes with its own dangers. You can spread yourself a bit thin. The temptation will be to do more, more, more. That’ll be interesting to watch.”

Indeed, I find myself vicariously stressed out over the list of potential projects in Waititi’s future. A Roald Dahl animated series for Netflix. An Apple TV show based on the 1981 film Time Bandits. A sequel to What We Do In The Shadows. A reboot of Flash Gordon. A gonzo horror comedy, The Auteur, starring Jude Law. Adapting a cult graphic novel, The Incal, as a feature. A streaming series based on the novel Interior Chinatown. A film based on a Kazuo Ishiguro bestseller. Plus bringing to life the wildly popular Akira comic books. Oh, and for good measure, a new instalment of Star Wars, which he’s already warned the world will be … different.

“It’s going to change things,” he told Good Morning America. “It’s going to change what you guys know and expect.”

Did I say I was stressed for Waititi? I meant physically sick.

“Well…” he qualifies, “some of those things I’m just producing, so I come up with an idea or someone comes to me with an idea, and I shape how ‘it’s this kind of show’ and ‘here’s how we can get it made.’ It’s easier for me to have a part in those things and feel like I’ve had a meaningful role in the creative process, but also not having to do what I’ve always done, which is trying to control everything.”

In the 2014 mockumentary horror film What We Do in the Shadows, which he co-directed with Jemaine Clement. (Alamy)

What about moving away from the niche New Zealand settings he represented so well in his early work? How does he stay connected to his roots? “I think you just need to know where you’re from,” he says, “and just don’t forget that.”

They certainly haven’t forgotten him.

Jasmin McSweeney sits in her office at the New Zealand Film Commission in Wellington, surrounded by promotional posters Waititi signed for her two decades ago, when she was tasked with promoting his nascent talent. Now the organisation’s marketing chief, she talks to me after visiting the heart of thriving “Wellywood”, overseeing the traditional karakia prayer on the set of a new movie starring Geoffrey Rush.

Waititi isn’t the first great Kiwi filmmaker – dual Oscar-winner Jane Campion and blockbuster king Peter Jackson come to mind – yet his particular ascendance, she says, has spurred unparalleled enthusiasm. “Taika gave everyone here confidence. He always says, ‘Don’t sit around waiting for people to say, you can do this.’ Just do it, because he just did it. That’s the Taika effect.”

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Taika David Waititi is known for wearing everything from technicolour dreamcoats to pineapple print rompers, and today he’s wearing a roomy teal and white Isabel Marant jumper. The mohair garment has the same wispy frizz as his hair, which curls like a wave of grey steel wool, and connects with a shorn salty beard.

A stylish silver fox, it wouldn’t surprise anyone if he suddenly announced he was launching a fashion label. He’s definitely a commercial animal, to the point of directing television commercials for Coke and Amazon, along with a fabulous 2023 spot for Belvedere vodka starring Daniel Craig. He also joined forces with a beverage company in Finland (where “taika” means “magic”) to release his coffee drinks. Announcing the partnership on social media, he flagged that he would be doing more of this kind of stuff, too (“Soz not soz”).

Waititi has long been sick of reverent portrayals of Indigenous people talking to spirits.

There’s substance behind the swank. Fashion is a creative outlet but he’s also bought sewing machines in the past with the intention of designing and making clothes, and comes from a family of tailors. “I learnt how to sew a button on when I was very young,” he says. “I learnt how to fix holes or patches in your clothes, and darn things.”

And while he gallivants around the globe watching Wimbledon or modelling for Hermès at New York Fashion Week, all that glamour belies a depth of purpose, particularly when it comes to Indigenous representation.

There’s a moment in his new movie where a Samoan player realises that their Dutch coach, played by Michael Fassbender, is emotionally struggling, and he offers a lament for white people: “They need us.” I can’t help but think Waititi meant something more by that line – maybe that First Nations people have wisdom to offer if others will just listen?

“Weeelllll, a little bit …” he says – but from his intonation, and what he says next, I’m dead wrong. Waititi has long been sick of reverent portrayals of Indigenous people talking to kehua (spirits), or riding a ghost waka (phantom canoe), or playing a flute on a mountain. “Always the boring characters,” he says. “They’ve got no real contemporary relationship with the world, because they’re always living in the past in their spiritual ways.”

A scene from Next Goal Wins, filmed earlier this year. (Alamy)

He’s part of a vanguard consciously poking fun at those stereotypes. Another is the Navajo writer and director Billy Luther, who met Waititi at Sundance Film Festival back in 2003, along with Reservation Dogs co-creator Sterlin Harjo. “We were this group of outsiders trying to make films, when nobody was really biting,” says Luther. “It was a different time. The really cool thing about it now is we’re all working. We persevered. We didn’t give up. We slept on each other’s couches and hung out. It’s like family.”

Waititi has power now, and is known for using Indigenous interns wherever possible (“because there weren’t those opportunities when I was growing up”), making important introductions, offering feedback on scripts, and lending his name to projects through executive producer credits, too, which he did for Luther’s new feature film, Frybread Face and Me (2023).

He called Luther back from the set of Thor: Love and Thunder (2022) to offer advice on working with child actors – “Don’t box them into the characters you’ve created,” he said, “let them naturally figure it out on their own” – but it’s definitely harder to get Waititi on the phone these days. “He’s a little bitch,” Luther says, laughing. “Nah, there’s nothing like him. He’s a genius. You just knew he was going to be something. I just knew it. He’s my brother.“

I’ve been asked to explicitly avoid political questions in this interview, probably because Waititi tends to back so many causes, from child poverty and teenage suicide to a campaign protesting offshore gas and oil exploration near his tribal lands. But it’s hard to ignore his recent Instagram post, sharing a viral video about the Voice to Parliament referendum starring Indigenous Aussie rapper Adam Briggs. After all, we speak only two days after the proposal is defeated. “Yeah, sad to say but, Australia, you really shat the bed on that one,” Waititi says, pausing. “But go see my movie!”

About that movie – the early reviews aren’t great. IndieWire called it a misfire, too wrapped in its quirks to develop its arcs, with Waititi’s directorial voice drowning out his characters, while The Guardian called it “a shoddily made and strikingly unfunny attempt to tell an interesting story in an uninteresting way”. I want to know how he moves past that kind of criticism. “For a start, I never read reviews,” he says, concerned only with the opinion of people who paid for admission, never professional appraisals. “It’s not important to me. I know I’m good at what I do.”

Criticism that Indigenous concepts weren’t sufficiently explained in Next Goal Wins gets his back up a little, though. The film’s protagonist, Jaiyah Saelua, the first transgender football player in a FIFA World Cup qualifying match, is fa’afafine – an American Samoan identifier for someone with fluid genders – but there wasn’t much exposition of this concept in the film. “That’s not my job,” Waititi says. “It’s not a movie where I have to explain every facet of Samoan culture to an audience. Our job is to retain our culture, and present a story that’s inherently Polynesian, and if you don’t like it, you can go and watch any number of those other movies out there, 99 per cent of which are terrible.”

*notes: (there is video clip in the article)

Waititi sounds momentarily cranky, but he’s mostly unflappable and hilarious. He’s the kind of guy who prefers “Correctumundo bro!” to “Yes”. When our video connection is too laggy, he plays up to it by periodically pretending to be frozen, sitting perfectly still, mouth open, his big shifting eyeballs the only giveaway.

He’s at his best on set. Saelua sat next to him in Honolulu while filming the joyous soccer sequences. “He’s so chill. He just let the actors do their thing, giving them creative freedom, barely interjecting unless it was something important. His style matches the vibe of the Pacific people. We’re a very funny people. We like to laugh. He just fit perfectly.”

People do seem to love working alongside him, citing his ability to make productions fresh and unpredictable and funny. Chris Hemsworth once said that Waititi’s favourite gag is to “forget” that his microphone is switched on, so he can go on a pantomime rant for all to hear – usually about his disastrous Australian lead actor – only to “remember” that he’s wired and the whole crew is listening.

“I wouldn’t know about that, because I don’t listen to what other people say about anything – I’ve told you this,” Waititi says. “I just try to have fun when there’s time to have fun. And when you do that, and you bring people together, they’re more willing to go the extra mile for you, and they’re more willing to believe in the thing that you’re trying to do.”

Yes, he plays music between takes, and dances out of his director’s chair, but it’s really all about relaxing amid the immense pressure and intense privilege of making movies. “Do you know how hard it is just to get anything financed or green-lit, then getting a crew, getting producers to put all the pieces together, and then making it to set?” Waititi asks. “It’s a real gift, even to be working, and I feel like I have to remind people of that: enjoy this moment.”

Source: The Age

By: Konrad Marshall (December 1, 2023)

#rhys darby #taika waititi #next goal wins #our flag means death #hunt for the wilderpeople #interview

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