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wooahaeproductions · 10 months

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You Drive Me Crazy (But It Feels Alright)

Lee Jihoon (Woozi) x Female Reader

Genre: angst, fluff, smut, fake dating au, 90s au, ex-best friends au, and heavily based off the movie You Drive Me Crazy

Word Count: 15.2k (IM SO SORRY🙃 )

Warnings: language, mentions of terminal illness and death, bullying, drinking, drunken bad ideas, mentions of medicine, cheating, breakups, general college debauchery, making fun of furs in the fashion industry (used only to go with the 90s vibes), lots of feelings and oppressing them, jokes and conversations about sex, making out and kissing, and mentions of vomiting.

Smut Warnings: a little dry humping, semi public sex in a backyard treehouse? and protected sex (honestly the smut in this is pretty vanilla)

Rating: 18+

A/N: After forever, I’m excited to present this fic to you. I have never written anything this long before so once again I am sorry. Thank you to @beomcoups and @mingsolo for hosting the Now That’s 90’s! collab, as a 90s kid myself it was my pleasure to participate. Please go check out all the other amazing writers who joined as well!

Special thanks to Indi @playmetheclassics and Sammie @slightlymore for beta reading this monster for me. You guys are the best and I love you 💕 ~Bee

Network tags: @kbookshelf

With one last glance at your appearance in the mirror, you grabbed your bookbag from the chair in the corner of your room. You headed down the long curved staircase before opening the front door of the sorority house.

You were almost going to be late, and to make matters worse, you came face-to-face with your enemy at the end of the driveway. Which wasn’t that unusual since he walked this way too, despite living further away, but you tried your best to avoid him anyway.

“Ew, what are you doing here?” Jihoon asks, walking past you at the driveway and lifting his lip in disgust.

“I live at the sorority, remember, asshole?” you spat, hating the fact that you had to walk in the same direction to get to campus. You two had been this way for a long time now, and it had become a habit to be prickly toward him.

It hadn’t always been like that, though. In fact, you guys used to be best friends, completely inseparable. At least until his mom got sick when you were in junior high, and he started hanging out with some different people and getting into trouble. You then got in with the popular kids, and you and Jihoon have become enemies ever since.

You two walked stiffly beside each other as you reached the edge of campus, and Jihoon’s friends appeared. Seokmin put him in a small headlock, and Seungkwan gave you a small smile while Wonwoo just shook his head. You actually knew his three best friends as well. You all used to hang out way back when. You smiled meekly back before arms wrapped around your shoulders, and your boyfriend, Johnny, had found you as well.

“Hey, babe,” Johnny said, smacking a kiss near your ear. You resisted the urge to cringe. He was in the popular crowd too, a football player. While he wasn’t that bad and was easy on the eyes, he was boring, only caring about football and whatever party was next to attend. You missed having someone with a level of intelligence, someone you could debate things with like you used to do with Jihoon. It didn’t matter, though. You were enemies now, and nothing would change that.

You made it through your first few classes, and you were having lunch in the courtyard with Johnny along with what you considered the entire popular crew, including your best friend, Jennie. You sat at a long table, eating a sandwich while everyone talked about the next football game and a party at Mingyu’s that was happening later.

Across the courtyard, you spotted Jihoon in your line of vision, his girlfriend pushing him against the concrete wall, practically sucking his face off. You swallowed a bite of your sandwich, trying not to gag. Just as you turned away from the sight, Seungkwan was walking past. Before you could stop him, Johnny pretended to accidentally put his foot out in front of him. Seungkwan tripped over it, dropping the food he was carrying all over the ground and falling forward. The entire table erupted in laughter as Johnny retracted his foot like it had never been there. “Having trouble walking, Kwannie?” Johnny’s best friend, Mark heckled.

Seungkwan looked at Mark and Johnny with loathing. You got up, giving Johnny and Mark a glare. “What? We were only having some fun,” Johnny said innocently. You threw what was left of your food in the trash and walked over to Seungkwan. You stuck your hand out, letting him grab it and helped him up from the ground.

“Thanks, Y/N. You know you didn’t have to,” he said.

“I know, Seungkwan, but it’s not like I hate you too,” you said softly.

“See you around,” he said, a sad smile on his face before he walked out of the courtyard.

Later that evening, you were getting ready for Mingyu’s party with Jennie because both she and Johnny insisted you had to appear. “So, our sorority ball is coming up…do you think Johnny is going to ask you soon?” Jennie asked.

“Yeah, I’m sure he’s going to. I mean, who else would I go with?” you said, brushing off her question. You were helping plan the entire thing, and he knew it was important, so there wasn’t any reason why he wouldn’t be asking you.

She nodded, but her face said she was skeptical. “What about you? Has anyone asked you yet?” You turned the question around on her.

“No, but I’m sure Mingyu or Taeyong will ask. It’s not like I don’t have options,” she bragged, and you struggled to hide your contempt. While you were part of the popular crowd, Jennie had always been the most popular. Others were more drawn to her than you.

You escaped the rest of the conversation with Jennie when it was interrupted by a honking sound, indicating Johnny was there to pick the two of you up to go to the party. You both walked outside and as you approached his truck, you heard music blasting out of the open windows. Mark was in the front passenger seat while you and Jennie slipped in the back with Mark’s girlfriend, Miyeon.

Miyeon waved at you and you barely got your seatbelt on before the truck lurched forward, making its way down the road towards Mingyu’s house. “Who’s ready to dominate at pong tonight?” Mark bragged.

“Yeahhhhh,” Johnny enthused, reaching over to bump Mark’s fist with his. You rolled your eyes and looked over at Jennie. She just shrugged at you like it wasn’t as big of an annoyance as you were making it out to be.

The truck swung into the driveway of Mingyu’s house, and as Johnny cut the engine, it was replaced by the louder sounds of the house party. More music blasted from the back of the house where the pool was, and you could hear the sounds of splashing along with the hum of many people conversing at once.

You followed behind Johnny as you weaved through the house, making your way to the kitchen for a drink. The large island was littered with many types of alcohol and random snacks. The signature punch bowl filled with some sort of pink liquid had also made its usual appearance, but you had made that mistake enough times and knew better enough to stay far away from it.

You grabbed a red solo cup from the stack on the counter, making a mixed drink out of some random soda and liquor that sounded decent. It looked like Johnny had done the same and was pulling you by the hand to go out in the backyard where Mingyu and the rest of their buddies were. Jennie was already cozying up and dancing with some guy you didn’t recognize, likely from another university.

Meanwhile, Jihoon was on a date with his girlfriend, Shayla at a weird little bar across ton. Well, it was supposed to be a date, but all Jihoon had done was down beers while Shayla listened to some guy on the stage in front drone on about how real furs were being used in the fashion industry.

Jihoon hated how Shayla was looking at this guy, like he was the one single-handedly stopping the usage of real furs. Never mind the fact that she was on a date with Jihoon, her boyfriend. Jihoon scowled as he chugged beer after beer.

He didn’t even notice how drunk he was until he got up and the room started spinning slightly. Stumbling over his chair, he looked over to find that Shayla had gone to the edge of the stage and was actively flirting with the fur guy. Jihoon needed to go to the bathroom and then he needed to get out of there.

As he was washing his hands in the bathroom, he stared at his reflection in the mirror and realized he had started to sober up rather quickly, but he had ridden here with Shayla. Jihoon found the pay phone near the door of the bar. The opening and closing of the door created cold rushes of air, sobering him even more. He called one of his best friends, who also happened to be a designated driver for when the popular kids had parties.

After feeding the pay phone the correct amount of coins and dialing the number, Wonwoo’s voice picked up after a few rings. “Jihoooonnnn, what’s up?” Wonwoo asked.

“Can you come get me from that stupid bar Shayla likes? I drank, and Shayla drove here,” Jihoon explained.

“And you aren’t coming back with her?” Wonwoo questioned. Jihoon looked back toward the table he had been at with Shayla, only to find her making out with the fur dude.

“No, we broke up,” he said, bitterly.

Wonwoo sighed. “Alright, I’ll come get you before we head to pick someone up at Mingyu’s party,” he said before hanging up.

Jihoon hung up the line on his end and made a beeline back to where Shayla was. He tapped on her shoulder, breaking her from the make-out session, and immediately her face turned into one of someone who had been caught.

“We’re done, Shayla,” Jihoon said, rather dryly. He turned on his heel, not waiting for a reaction from her and walked out of the bar to wait for Wonwoo outside in the parking lot.

When Jihoon was busy drowning in beers at the bar, you were also having an unfortunate turn of events. The party started out fine, you were having a good time dancing with Johnny and it progressed into being his partner for beer pong against Mark and Miyeon.

Unfortunately, you and Johnny were losing. It started out okay, Johnny was being a bit of a gentleman and was drinking for you, but that was leaving him pretty smashed. It was Mark’s turn and he had gotten the ball in another cup, making Johnny drink yet another cup of beer.

Johnny stumbled backward, spilling most of the contents of his cup on a girl who was walking behind him. It was like a scene from a movie, you watched as Johnny apologized to her and their eyes met each other’s. Anyone around could have seen the immediate connection.

You originally tried to brush it off but with Johnny being as drunk as he was, it was apparent that something was bound to happen. Later, when you had come inside to use the bathroom, you would find Johnny and that girl sucking face right next to the bathroom door.

A screamed breakup and way too many drinks later, Jennie had called a designated driver to take you home. You sat on Mingyu’s front porch, sulking and watching the world spin when Wonwoo’s car pulled up.

“Hey there, Y/N,” Wonwoo said, getting out of the driver's seat and approaching you on the porch. You gave him a nonchalant peace sign before noticing he had another passenger in the car.

“Oh, great. That’s just the thing to top off my night, being stuck in a car with Jihoon while I’m drunk,” you said sarcastically, letting Wonwoo lead you down the steps and toward the car.

“I know, Y/N, but he called me too, and he is my friend as well. Try to bear with it, and you’ll be home soon enough,” Wonwoo said, knowing full well the relationship, or rather hate-ship, between you and Jihoon.

You rolled your eyes but slid into the seat next to Jihoon as Wonwoo shut the door after you. “Seriously, Wonwoo? This is who you needed to pick up from Mingyu’s party?” Jihoon’s annoyance was evident. Already tired from your rant, Wonwoo just gave him a hard stare in the rearview mirror.

Leaving the party, the car was silent until Wonwoo brought up the reason for picking you up. “Y/N, you aren’t one to get that drunk at these parties. Jennie may have mentioned something happened..”

You pulled your sweater around you and grumbled. “Johnny got too drunk, and after some weird drama connection shit, I found him and a girl from another university making out. He claims they ‘fell in love’,” you explained, using air quotes at the end.

“So you broke up?” Jihoon’s question surprised you, but you were too tired and drunk to actively be rude to him

“Yeah, we broke up,” you confirmed.

“Seems to be the theme tonight,” Wonwoo mused from the front seat.

Confused, you looked over at Jihoon who was picking at his hands and looking at something particularly enthralling on the floor of the automobile. So, he and Shayla must have broken up as well. You felt that was interesting since they seemed attached at the hip, attached at the mouth too. Jihoon looked out the window now, and you saw a hurt in his eyes that he so seldom showed, but it was a familiar vulnerability that you remember from when you were kids.

“We’re here, Y/N,” Wonwoo announced, and you realized he had pulled up in front of your sorority house. You didn’t know if it was the alcohol or being in an enclosed space with Jihoon that messed with your perception of time, but you were home quicker than you expected.

“Oh. Um, thanks, Wonwoo,” you mumbled, pushing the passenger door of the car open.

“Are you good? Can you get to the door okay?” Wonwoo asked.

“Yeah,” you responded, swinging your heavy-feeling feet out of the car before shutting the door a little harder than you meant to.

Jihoon watched as you stumbled down the walkway and nearly smacked yourself in the knee when you opened the front door of the sorority, a chuckle escaping him. “Was that a laugh I heard?” Wonwoo asked, turning around in his seat to scrutinize Jihoon’s expression.

“No…” Jihoon mumbled and cleared his throat. Wonwoo just shook his head, turned back to the front and pulled away from the sorority house to drop off his friend.

“So, are you really that broken up about Shayla?” Wonwoo inquired, filling the five-minute drive with conversation.

“Honestly? Not really. I’m more upset about the way we broke up rather than the actual break up,” Jihoon explained, his hand running at his bangs in annoyance.

“Seriously. Out of everyone she could have kissed, it was some dumb activist guy at the bar. Now that you guys are over, I can say this, but Seok, Seungkwan, and I didn’t really think she fit with you. You deserve so much better,” Wonwoo ranted on Jihoon’s behalf.

The car had pulled up in Jihoon’s driveway while they were talking, and Jihoon slapped a hand on Wonwoo’s shoulder as he got up from the backseat. “Thanks, Woo. I know you guys didn’t care for her much, so now it’s ancient history,” Jihoon said, leaving Wonwoo alone in the car and making his way up his front porch steps.

He had barely gotten into the house and gone up the stairs to his room to flop onto his bed when the phone rang. “No, Seokmin. For the final time, we are not adding dancing suns to the music video edit,” Jihoon said into the phone automatically, not even bothering to say a greeting first.

“Uh, what?” you asked, confused.

Hearing your voice on the other line caused Jihoon to sit upright immediately. “Y/N? How did you get this number?” he questioned, surprised.

“I remembered it..” you said, softly. As much as you hated Jihoon, your memories of your childhood remained, and that included his phone number.

“Oh. So..why are you calling?” he asked, falling back onto his bed.

“I had an idea. What if...we dated each other?” You stated your idea, twirling the phone cord around your finger.

“What if we what? Y/N, you’re drunk,” Jihoon exclaimed.

“I'm not anymore, just hear me out. Not really dating but just pretending so that we could get what we wanted. I’d get to go to the sorority dance that I worked hard to plan and maintain my status while making Johnny jealous, and you’d get to show Shayla that she made a big mistake,” you blurted out your crazy idea.

“I don't know where you got this insane idea, but you should drink some water and take an ibuprofen for the nasty headache you’ll have in the morning,” he said, sighing.

“I’m serious, just think about it okay? Goodnight, Ji,” you said, his old nickname rolling off your tongue easily.

Jihoon sighed again, “Good night, Y/N,” and he hung up the phone before falling asleep.

Your sleep was invaded by the sunlight shining in through your window, and as you opened your eyes, the splitting headache that resulted from last night's events made itself known. You sat up in bed slowly, pressing the palm of your hand against your eyes as if that would help when you remembered your phone call last night with Jihoon. He told you to drink water and take an ibuprofen.

You got up sluggishly and made your way to the bathroom, grabbing the cup that you left on the counter for when you got thirsty in the middle of the night. You filled it with water from the sink and found the ibuprofen bottle that was kept in the cabinet, spilling two pills into your palm. You popped them in your mouth and knocked them back, taking a drink of the water to swallow them.

As you took a second drink of water for good measure, the rest of your conversation with Jihoon passed through your memories, and you spit water all over the mirror in front of you. You knew that you had been thinking how pretending to date each other would be an option, but you didn’t think you would actually ask him to do it. Apparently, drunken Y/N thought otherwise and had straight up called him and asked him to do it.

You smacked yourself in the forehead, making your head feel worse. “Well, it’s been said. And he didn’t agree to it yet, so let’s see what happens,” you murmured to yourself, resigned to the fact that it had indeed been said and maybe he wouldn’t go for it. No sense in being embarrassed about something you barely remember saying.

Which is why you didn’t expect to have Jihoon standing in front of you in the campus cafe on Monday morning saying, “I’ll do it,” causing you to spit your drink out for the second time in three days.

“You’ll what?” you asked, incredulous, as you wiped the coffee you sprayed all over the table in front of you.

Jihoon sighed, not wanting to repeat himself. “I said, I’ll do it. Let’s fake date,” he repeated anyway, slowly to make his words heard. You blinked and just stared at him, absorbing what he just said. He stared back, his eyes boring into yours, and you saw no sign of his usual pettiness or jokes.

“Okay,” you finally breathed out, “but we should have some rules.”

“Agreed,” he said, sitting down next to you now.

“Okay….” you said, mulling over what those rules would actually be. “Alright, you’ll need a makeover. No one would believe we are together looking like…this,” you continued, gesturing at his overall self.

“Like what, Y/N?” Jihoon asked, even though he knew full well what you meant.

“We need to make it seem like you are someone I’d go for,” you said, trying to make your case.

“Fine, but I will not like it,” he replied with a glare, and you let out a little triumphant smile. “So then the other rule is that we have an easy out clause,” he said, offering a rule of his own.

“An easy out clause?” you questioned.

“Yeah. So we can end the fake relationship at any time for any reason, and there won’t be any hard feelings. Other than the ones we already have for each other, of course,” Jihoon continued.

“Alright, an easy out clause,” you agreed. You let the awkward silence stew between the two of you for a bit before you spoke once more. “We both have classes until 4 pm today and then I have some work for the ball to do…are you free tomorrow night?”

“I think so, but why?” he asked, skeptically.

“So we can take care of the first rule, your makeover,” you replied.

Jihoon grimaced. “Okay, meet me in front of my house at 6 pm tomorrow,” he said, getting up and stuffing his hands in his pockets before leaving for his class. You attempted to finish what was left of your coffee and head off to your next class as well.

The next day at 6 pm, like promised, you were standing in front of a very familiar house from your childhood-Jihoon’s house. While you joined a sorority and lived on campus, Jihoon still lived here with his dad. Not only was it close to the university, but you figured some part of him didn’t want to leave his dad alone.

You took a deep breath and walked up the front steps, ringing the doorbell. The door swung open, revealing Jihoon’s dad. “Well hello, Y/N. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you,” he said, opening the door further to let you step inside.

“Hi Mr. Lee,” you said, standing in the foyer rather awkwardly. Honestly, the last time you stepped foot in this house was the day of Mrs. Lee’s funeral. It was also the last time you and Jihoon acted like friends.

“Ji should be down in a minute,” Mr Lee said, leaving you and going back into the kitchen. You looked down at your feet, rocking back and forth on your heels until you heard the creaking of the stairs. Jihoon looked like his usual self, wearing jeans and a band tee. You couldn’t help but smile. However, if the two of you dating were to seem real then he needed to fit in with the popular crowd. And that started with a look that aligned with that.

Jihoon cleared his throat, suddenly standing in front of you, and you realized you must have spaced out. “Ready?” he asked.

“Yeah, we should get going,” you said. He grabbed his car keys from the small table near the door before ushering you back through the front door and closing it behind him. He also opened the passenger door of the car for you, making you quirk an eyebrow at his actions. His only response was a shrug of the shoulders.

After you were both settled in the car he asked, “So where to?”

“The mall,” you responded with an excited smile.

Jihoon groaned, “Are you trying to kill my reputation as a geek?” You blinked, surprised at his joking tone before letting out a giggle.

“Precisely,” you answered, laughing once more. Jihoon started the car, driving toward the demise of his geekdom, or at least the image of it.

After about fifteen minutes had passed, he pulled into the parking lot of the city mall, also known as the place where all the popular kids shopped and hung out.

You walked into the large, store-filled building with Jihoon trailing behind you. Pausing at the entrance, you thought about what you needed to do first. “New outfits,” you pondered out loud. You looked over at Jihoon who was mashing his lips together and you grabbed the edge of his shirt, pulling him with you to the first clothing store.

You deposited him in the middle of the store, near the dressing rooms. Jihoon stood there almost in awe as you swirled around the store, picking up different combinations of pants and shirts to create outfits for him to try on. He was already exhausted, and he hadn’t even tried anything on yet.

After what felt like forever, you returned, holding up multiple outfits for him. He sighed, something he was doing a lot when he was with you. “The sooner you try them on, the sooner we can be done,” you said, trying to sound motivating. Lucky for you, he knew you were right and took the hangers of clothes from you. He trudged into the dressing room and shut the door behind him.

You made him come out after every outfit, much to his annoyance. You rather enjoyed it, clapping and smiling for most of the outfits. You were proud of yourself for picking things out that made him look the perfect mix of sophisticated and casual. You gathered all the outfits that worked and brought them up to the checkout counter, once again with Jihoon trailing behind you.

Coming to stand next to you, Jihoon went to take his wallet out of his pocket, but you grabbed his wrist to stop him. “Don’t worry about it. It was my idea for the makeover,” you said, handing money to the cashier as she placed his new clothes in a bag. She handed the bag to you.

“Are you sure?” Jihoon asked.

“I’m sure,” you confirmed, handing the bag of clothes over to him. As you pulled your hand away, your stomach let out a few grumbles.

He let out an amused snort and said, “This place has a food court, right?” You nodded, and your stomach grumbled some more. “Let’s get some food then.”

You led the way toward the center of the mall, where all the food smells were coming from and a few minutes later, the two of you sat across from each other at a table with pieces of pizza in front of you. Another memory with Jihoon crossed your mind as you chewed a piece of the cheesy slice. “You remember the time Seungkwan’s mom specially bought that only cheese pizza for him at your birthday party and when he fell asleep early, we ate it all?” you asked, a smirk gracing your face as you remembered your childhood antics.

“He was so mad. He didn’t talk to us for like a week and then hid his pizza the next time there was a party,” Jihoon laughed. It grew silent again after that, not exactly an awkward silence but not a comfortable one either. You were nearly done with your pizza when Jihoon asked another question. “This makeover doesn’t include other things, like cutting my hair or something?”

You looked up at him. You looked at his slightly shaggy black hair and his bangs that lightly brushed over his forehead. You didn’t know what possessed you, but you reached forward and grazed you fingered through the ends of his hair. Your eyes locked and instead of the growling it had done earlier, your stomach did flip flops. You panicked slightly and abruptly pulled your hand away. “No, I don’t think we need to change anything else..” you said, looking down at the table.

Before things could get weirder, you two finished eating and left the mall with your mission accomplished.

The car was quiet as it sat in the driveway of your sorority and Jihoon wondered why you hadn’t taken your seatbelt off to get out of the car yet. You were struggling, debating whether you wanted to tell him something that you had thought about telling him for ages. What better time than to say it now, a day when you spent the most time with him than you had in years?

“Listen, Jihoon…” you started in a bit of a solemn tone. He turned to look at you. “When your mom got sick, I just didn’t know what to do or how to feel. Then at her funeral, I wasn’t sure how to comfort you or even if I could. And then you started getting in trouble at school and hanging out with other people. I’m just…I’m sorry.”

Jihoon gave a wry smile after listening to your whole blurted speech. “It’s okay, I get it,” he said. “I didn’t know what to do or how to feel either, and then eventually we became…enemies sorta?”

You nodded. “How about we be, uh, frenemies now, I guess?”

He snorted at that. “Frenemies,” he agreed.

Eventually, you took off your seatbelt and opened the car door. Before you fully shut it, you peeked your head in to remind Jihoon of your next plans. “Remember, we should be seen together at the football game tomorrow and then at the diner with my friends after.”

He cringed but said, “Okay, see you tomorrow then,” and you shut the car door before watching him pull out of the driveway.

A few hours before the football game you mentioned to Jihoon that you were in the journalism room with Jennie, Miyeon, and a few other girls who were part of the ball planning committee. You were trying to finalize the theme so that you could get started on getting the decorations. The ball was held at the same place every year, so you didn’t have to worry about that, at least. Everyone was set on their own idea for the theme, and no one could come to a decision, making you massage your temples in frustration.

You were really regretting not grabbing that coffee before this meeting when the very thing you wanted appeared in front of you. A iced coffee was sat in front of you and you looked up to find Jihoon, looking nonchalant with his hands in his pockets like always. “Thanks. How did you know I was here?” you asked, surprised.

He shrugged. “I was here working in the editing room on something with Seungkwan and Wonwoo and saw you were still here. I thought you could probably use the caffeine.” You squinted at him before slowly taking a drink of the coffee, wondering if he had some sort of other motive. Then he leaned forward and whispered in your ear, “I’m just trying to make it look like we didn’t, you know, suddenly go from hating each other to dating. So, just go with it.”

Of course, there it was. He couldn’t have really just thought to bring it to you for no reason at all other than just because. You were supposed to be fake dating starting today, so he needed to make it look true.

Arguing between Jennie and Miyeon brought you back to reality, and you sighed. “Guys!” you snapped, making them both stop midargument. “Look, it’s almost time for the game and we should be there. Let’s try and come to an agreement by next week. If that’s not possible, then I’ll be making the final decision, by myself,” you said. Miyeon looked surprised at your unusual forcefulness while Jennie just looked, well annoyed.

You grabbed what was left of the coffee Jihoon brought you and him by the arm. “We should get over to the stadium,” you said and left the room with the others, wondering what was up with you, or more importantly you and him.

“Okay, chill,” Jihoon said, pulling his arm back from you once you were in the hall.

“Sorry,” you said, letting him pull his arm back. You looked up at him, finally noticing that he was also wearing one of the outfits you had picked out the day before. You smiled at him.

“What?” he asked, wondering why the heck you were smiling at him like a weirdo in the middle of the hallway.

“I didn’t think you would be wearing the clothes yet,” you responded.

“I thought that was the deal? Now come on, let’s watch some stupid game and start this dating thing in front of your friends.” Jihoon grabbed your hand, leading you down the hall and out the door to head to the football stadium. Why was your heart feeling funny?

An hour later, Jihoon was sitting next to you in the bleachers complaining in your ear about how “all a football game is, is an excuse for dudes to touch other dudes' butts.” You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but laugh.

“Go, Fight, Win!” A chant had started in the stadium and was gaining more people with it. After about the third round of the chant, you joined, smirking at Jihoon. He looked at you chanting with your other friends that sat nearby and shook his head. You nudged him, smiling like a maniac.

Rolling his eyes, he finally joined with a monotone, “Go, Fight, Win!” and a half-hazard fist pump in the air. Then something happened. Watching the game, feeling the excitement of the crowd, and seeing you sitting next to him, enjoying yourself; he thought maybe this wasn’t so bad, fun even. Next thing he knew, as the chant ended he was taking turns shouting insults at the refs with Mark and high-fiving him.

You looked at him. It was peculiar. All that fuss and now he was fitting in like he had been a part of the group from the beginning. You couldn’t help but think that it could have been this way all along, as if you and Jihoon never had been enemies.

After the game, you and Jihoon made an official new couple appearance at the diner your friends often frequented after games. You had barely sat down in the group booth with your food when Jennie pounced. “So after seeing you two together twice today, I need to ask. Are you two like a thing now?” she asked, pointing between the two of you. You nodded. Jennie gave a look of distaste. “How on earth did that happen?”

“So, remember the night at Mingyu’s party when Johnny and I broke up and I got drunk, you called me a designated driver? Well, Jihoon had also called Wonwoo and was in the car too. It just sort of happened?” you explained. None of that was technically wrong at all, that was what happened. You just left out the part about the drunken phone call later and you know, the fact that it was fake.

Jennie looked over at Jihoon, who had his mouth full of fries. “Yeah, pretty much,” Jihoon confirmed with his mouth full and Jennie gave a slightly disgusted look. Seeming satisfied with that answer, Jennie left it alone and conversation flowed around the table. Mark, Mingyu, and Jihoon were debating things about a video game and you found yourself smiling once again at the fact that they seemed to be getting along well.

Yet, your smile fell when you looked at the other side of the table to see Johnny and his new girlfriend making out. You didn’t know why, but tears were gathering at the corners of your eyes. “I’ll be right back, bathroom,” you mumbled. Jihoon heard the tone in your voice and the sheen in your eyes and was pulled from his video game conversation. He immediately saw what likely upset you, and decided he needed to do something about it when you came back.

In the bathroom, you splashed water on your face and hoped that would help regain your composure. You took a few deep breaths and made sure there was no trace of your sudden tear-up before heading back out to the table. As you sat back down next to Jihoon, he asked “Everything okay, babe?” He wrapped an arm over your shoulders pulling you close to him and placed a peck on your forehead.

Babe? Your brain malfunctioned and you were frozen at Jihoon’s side. “Y/N….” he hissed in your ear and you broke from your stupor. “Oh, sorry. Yes, I’m good,” you answered. He must be doing this for show, to make it really look like you were dating and to make Johnny jealous, right? It had to be that, of course.

“So, you’re friends with DD Wonwoo, right?” Mark was asking Jihoon now.

“Yeah, we are friends. And it’s Wonwoo, not DD Wonwoo. Just Wonwoo,” he answered and you could hear irritation starting in his voice.

“Cool, you think he’d be down to be the designated driver for all our parties? We’ll pay.” Jihoon’s body tensed at the question.

“Okayyyyy,” you said the minute Mark finished his sentence, getting up and pulling Jihoon out of the booth with you. “It’s getting late and I’m tired. We’ll see you guys later,” you rushed out before dragging Jihoon out of the diner with you and leaving what was left of your food on the table.

“What the hell was that? Wonwoo has probably saved the lives of half those people in there and what? They just want to continue getting drunk off their rockers and think throwing money at him is compensation for that?” Jihoon was fuming. He was pacing back and forth in the parking lot, tugging his hand through his hair.

“Jihoon…” you started.

“Who do they think they are? Do they have no integrity? Did they trade their brains for being popular?” He continued to rant.

“Jihoon!” you said again, sharper this time.

“What?!” he shouted and you flinched slightly.

You didn’t know why, but you felt the urge to comfort him and calm him down. And to apologize even. You came up next to him, brushing his hand with yours, and said, “I’m sorry.” Jihoon’s breathing calmed down and his eyes met yours. “Endure it for me, please? I promise you and Wonwoo can do something mean to him the next time he’s drunk, okay?” you said.

Jihoon cracked a smile at that. “Fine…” he responded and stalked over to the car so he could get the two of you back home.

You and Jihoon had made appearances at a few other things during the week, but as Friday approached there was actually one you were looking forward to the most. It was starting to get warmer, which meant some days were spent soaking up the sun at the river.

The ball’s committee had also taken your previous threat about choosing the theme on your own seriously and had finally come to a consensus. The theme was Moments in Time and you were looking forward to downtime with your friends before having to plan more for the ball. Maybe you were looking forward to downtime with Jihoon too.

This time you were all riding with Mingyu in his jeep, floats and picnic supplies strapped to the utility bar on top of the vehicle. He had come to pick you up with everyone else in the car but Jihoon and he would be picked up last. Which meant that when Mingyu honked at Jihoon’s house, the only seat left in the car was in the backseat, squished in the middle next to you.

Squeezing in next to you, you became immediately aware of his bare legs pressing against your own. He was in the swim trunks you had picked out for him and a t-shirt, already prepared for the day's activities. “Ouch,” you said as he accidentally pinched your arm between him and the seat.

“I’m sorry, is this better?” Jihoon asked, moving his arm over your shoulders so that you could settle next to him.

You swallowed down the butterflies that were now becoming a common occurrence when you were with him. You were still doing everything you could to ignore them. It was just the proximity and situation making you feel that way. You didn’t actually like him. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

You didn’t dare speak words out loud, afraid it would come out garbled or as a squeak. You just nodded in response, the warming of your cheeks still threatening to give you away. Throughout the entire drive to the river, you were painfully aware of how much his body was touching yours.

When Mingyu pulled into the parking lot of the River Park, you nearly flung yourself out of the car causing both Jihoon and Jennie to look at you like you were insane. As the others got out of the car, you moved your attention to retrieving your things from the back. You grabbed your bag, which held a swim towel, sunscreen, and a few snacks.

More bags were grabbed, leaving the trunk area empty while Mark and Mingyu worked on getting the other things down from the rack on the roof. You waited until everything had been taken before walking down the path that led to the larger bank of the river. The area was a little rocky but many of the rocks were big enough to lay blankets and towels on.

You spotted one big enough for multiple people to spread out on and it was also close enough to the river itself, which would make it easy to get in and out of the water. It was decided the girls would take the spot you found and the boys would hang out on the next one over. You spread your towel out, setting your bag near the front and slipping your sandals off on the other end to weigh it down before settling down on it in a cross-legged position.

Jennie and Miyeon put their things out next to you, while Jihoon was helping Mark and Mingyu set their chairs out on the other rock. You leaned backward on your hands, enjoying the sun on your face while chatting about things every once in a while with Jennie and Miyeon. You had tuned them out a little when Miyeon started talking about Mark’s sexual habits, comparing them with things Jennie’s many partners had done. Not only did you not want to know those things about Mark, but you didn’t really have anything to contribute since you and Jihoon obviously weren't on that level.

“Y/N? What about you and Jihoon?” Miyeon asked, bringing your attention back to the conversation.

“Well….it’s a secret,” you answered, trying to be as elusive as possible so you didn’t have to try and come up with more lies than needed.

“Oh, come on, Y/N,” Jennie goaded. “You cleaned Jihoon up so nicely, I'm sure you’ve had a piece of that.”

You looked at your best friend in annoyance. “Jihoon is a private person, I’d rather not discuss our sex life,” you responded. Miyeon seemed to understand but the look on Jennie’s face was like she took your response as a challenge.

The boys were having a similar conversation over at their rock, with Mingyu bragging about his latest endeavors. Jihoon didn’t really understand the need to boast about the subject as if it were a competition. “But what about Y/N, though?” Mingyu asked, looking over at Jihoon.

“What about her?” Jihoon questioned.

“She’s hot. You’d be stupid not to get a little ‘something, something’ while dating her,” Mingyu continued.

Jihoon narrowed his eyes, “Even if I have, Y/N has feelings too and I’m not going to divulge her sex life without her permission.”

“Okay, dude. I was just trying to make conversation,” Mingyu surrendered, putting his hands up as a white flag.

Mark took that as a sign for him and Mingyu to grab some floaties and go hang out in the river. Jihoon had brought his walkman and slipped on the headphones, going into his own little music world. Miyeon and Jennie had grown quiet now and were tanning behind you.

After scooting forward on your towel, you stuck your feet in the cool river water and let yourself relax a bit. You looked over to find Mark and Mingyu having a war on the floaties, both trying to push the other off and into the water. You shook your head at their antics and moved your feet back and forth in the water, creating a calming effect for yourself.

You weren’t sure how long you were all hanging out there but eventually Mingyu mentioned that you should all get home and you started packing things up. You looked over to find Jihoon gone from his previous spot.

Your eyes wandered around the river bank area and you finally spotted him, playing with two younger kids. “Oh noooo, you got me,” you heard him exclaim in mock upset. The two kids were squirting him with water from the super soakers they each had, both giggling the more exaggerated Jihoon sounded.

He moved, chasing them around and getting revenge with his own super soaker. You couldn’t help but smile at the pure joy you saw on his face as he played with them. He looked so at ease with them. You thought that maybe you really were starting to fall for him, but if you were then you couldn’t keep up this fake dating ruse. You promptly shook the thoughts from your head.

“Come on Captain Kangaroo, our ride is leaving,” you shouted across the bank. He looked up at your voice and shot you a devastatingly adorable smile that showed off his dimples. He gave the water gun back to the kids and he ruffled their hair, telling them he had fun.

He jogged to where you were, saying “Okay, let’s get going.” He picked up his things from the rock he and the boys were on earlier and the two of you headed back up the path to Mingyu’s jeep. All the items you had brought had been put back in the trunk and everyone was just waiting for you and Jihoon so you could head back home. You two were squished against each other again, in a similar position as on the way there. However, you weren’t paying attention to that part as much now that the scene of him playing with the kids earlier kept replaying in your head. Before you knew it, you all had been dropped off at your respective residences and it was time to settle down for the evening.

Jihoon had just walked in the door when his dad appeared holding the house phone. “Ah, good timing. Jihoon just came in, Seungkwan. Here,” he said, holding the phone out for Jihoon to take.

“Hey, Kwan. What’s up?” Jihoon said into the phone, bringing it up the stairs to his room with him.

“The Pixies are playing at the bar tomorrow night. Come with Seokmin, Wonwoo, and I,” Seungkwan said.

“I don’t know. I think one of Y/N’s friends is having a party that we are supposed to go to.”

Seungkwan sighed heavily. “I wasn’t going to bring this up, but you’ve changed. You used to hang out with us, you know, your best friends, all the time and now you're always with Y/N and her group of populars. Are we not good enough for you anymore, Jihoon?”

“Jesus, Seungkwan. No, I haven’t changed. I don’t like hanging out with them, I’m just there to make Y/N happy and somewhat get along with them.” Jihoon explained, annoyance tingeing his voice.

“Whatever you say,” Seungkwan gave a flippant response.

“Tell you what, I’ll talk to Y/N and see if we can come with you guys to the concert instead. Okay?” Jihoon compromised.

“Fine, let me know later,” Seungkwan conceded.

“Okay, bye.” Jihoon hung up the phone and rubbed his hands over his face. He didn’t think he was changing at all. He wasn’t fitting in with that crowd, was he? He was only pretending so that you two could fake date, right?

Jihoon picked the cordless phone back up from the bed where he flung it after saying goodbye to Seungwan and dialed your number.

“Hello?” your voice sounded from the other end.

“Hey,” Jihoon said.

“Jihoon? You usually don’t call me first,” you mentioned.

“I know, but I wanted to ask you something.”

“Okay…” you responded, a little confused.

“I know we are supposed to go to another party tomorrow but do you think we could do something with my friends instead? I feel like we only do things with your friends,” he complained.

You let out a rush of air. “Okay,” you agreed.

“Okay?” Jihoon asked, surprised you agreed that easily.

“Yeah, you’re right. And it seems weird for a couple to hang out with only one group of friends. Plus, they used to be my friends too…” you trailed off.

“Alright, then there’s a band we follow playing at a bar we go to. Seungkwan invited us and both Wonwoo and Seokmin will be there too. I can come get you at 5 pm tomorrow,” he told you.

“Sounds good. Hey, today was kind of nice wasn’t it?” you asked, a smile on your face as you remembered.

“Yeah, it was kind of nice,” Jihoon admitted and you both hung up the phone.

Even though it was a Saturday afternoon, Jihoon found himself on campus in the broadcasting room. Seungkwan and Wonwoo were there earlier too but Jihoon wanted to finish editing the music video they had been working on. They had gone to get lunch and would be back later.

It wasn’t that he was in a real hurry to finish it exactly, but he tended to immerse himself in his projects when he felt unsettled about something. He wasn’t even sure what he was specifically feeling weird about. Was it the fact that he really seemed to be getting along with your friends? Or was it that his heart seemed to speed up every time he caught your eyes yesterday?

All that could be heard in the room was the clicking of the mouse as he edited, thoughts swirling in his head. He was so distracted that he didn’t even realize that Wonwoo and Seungkwan had come back and that it was three hours later. He was brought back to reality as Seungkwan snapped his fingers in front of his face, literally snapping him out of whatever trance he was in. “Hellooooo, Jihoon,” Seungwan said, trying to get his attention.

“Oh, sorry, Kwan,” Jihoon responded and turned around in the computer chair he was sitting in.

“We should probably leave so we can all get ready for the concert tonight with Seok,” Wonwoo mentioned.

“Did you ask your girlfriend? Are you coming?” Seungkwan asked with a hint of bitterness.

“Actually, yeah. Y/N was kind of excited about it, so we’ll be there,” Jihoon said, ignoring Seungkwan’s tone.

Rather than getting into another heated discussion about whether Jihoon was acting like himself or not, Seungkwan and Wonwoo left and so did Jihoon after finishing the last bit of video editing. He went back home to get ready in another outfit you had chosen that day at the mall before going to pick you up. A few hours later, he was waiting in the car outside your dorm like he had multiple times before.

Jihoon drummed his fingers on the steering wheel along with the beat of the song that was on the radio as he waited for you. He was pretty into it and didn’t see when you had come out of the house. You grinned as you slowly approached the car. Jihoon had been into music when you were younger and it was nice to know he truly hadn’t changed much despite everything that happened. “Okay drummer boy, I’m here. We should leave,” you said, making him jump slightly at your voice before he unlocked the passenger side for you to get in.

“So what band are we going to see?” you asked when Jihoon had pulled out onto the road that would take you to the bar.

“The Pixies. Wonwoo found them one time when he was DD’ing and went to pick Seokmin up at the bar one time. They showed Seungkwan and me the next time they played and we liked them too, so we try to catch them every time they play there.” Jihoon explained and you could tell how much he liked the band.

“Hmm, okay. Well I’m excited to hang out with you guys, to see Seungkwan, and to get to know Wonwoo and Seokmin even more,” you said and you really were. You wanted to catch a glimpse of what Jihoon had been like for the period of time you didn’t know him. He hummed in acknowledgment. It was quiet for a few minutes before you spoke again. “Hey, do I..look okay? I’ve actually never been to this kind of thing before..” you asked, feeling a little nervous.

Jihoon looked a little surprised, but then again seeing a girl punk rock band at a hole-in-the-wall bar was not exactly your scene. Eventually, he scanned your outfit, taking in the dark jeans and nice shirt you were wearing. “Yeah, you look nice,” he responded. He was probably just being polite but you noticed he was also wearing something similar, making you wonder why you spent so much time trying to find the right outfit in the first place.

He pulled into the parking lot of the bar and parked next to a car that was familiar to you at this point, Wonwoo’s. You followed behind him as he walked into the bar and scanned the area for his friends. “Jihoon! Y/N!” you heard someone shout over the band that was already playing. You walked with Jihoon to where Seungkwan had shouted from, in the middle of a crowd standing somewhat near the stage. It got louder the closer you got to where Seungkwan, Seokmin, and Wonwoo were.

“Hey, boys!” you greeted them over the music.

“Hey, Y/N,” Seungkwan said when you got closer. Wonwoo gave a small wave and Seokmin flashed a smile.

“I’m going to grab some drinks from the bar. Want anything?” Jihoon asked you all.

“Martini for me, please,” Seungkwan said.

“Suprise me,” came Seokmin’s response.

“I’m driving, of course, so just club soda?” Wonwoo asked.

Jihoon looked over at you, waiting for your order. “Rum and coke?” you asked. Jihoon did not expect that from you. He figured you’d want something more fancy like Seungkwan wanted.

“Okay, be back soon then,” Jihoon said and he disappeared into the crowd.

You turned your attention to the stage in front of you that had since grown quiet, guessing that the band that was playing when you walked in was the opener for who you were really here to see. You were making small talk with the three boys while waiting for the main event and for Jihoon to come back. As you had noticed before, Wonwoo was quiet but funny and had quite a knack for video editing. Seokmin was bright, adding a lightness to their group. You talked with Seungkwan about your junior high days when you, Jihoon, and he made up a trio. You remembered those days fondly and definitely noticed how wary Seungkwan was when talking about that part of your shared past.

Before you could address that, the crowd started cheering and colored lights were starting to shine on the stage as a group of girls came on stage with their instruments. They looked amazing. The girl in front had her hair teased in a high pony and wore silver pants that matched the glittering tank top of the girl drummer behind her. She picked up a guitar and started playing a riff that must have been from one of their well-known songs, judging by the howling in the crowd. As the song continued to play, you realized you liked it. The punk aspect was not something you would not have normally picked, but it made you feel something.

Jihoon was still waiting for your drinks over at the bar and was turned around to watch the stage. His eyes were automatically drawn to where you were, finding you with your eyes glued to the stage and complete joy written on your face. He watched as you got closer to the stage, starting to jump up and down with the music. He honestly couldn’t take his eyes off of you. “Here you go,” the bartender said from behind him, setting the drinks on the bar top. Jihoon grabbed them all, balancing them in his hands and set off back into the crowd with an amused smile on his lips.

He wove back through all the people, stopping to give his friends their drinks before moving forward in the crowd to where you were standing. The song was finishing as he reached you and you screamed and clapped for the band, making Jihoon laugh at how much you were actually enjoying this. He tapped you on the shoulder and you turned, the look on your face probably the happiest he had seen recently.

“Your drink,” Jihoon said, passing the glass to you.

“Thank you,” you said, taking it from him and giving it a light sip before turning your attention to the next song. You began bouncing up and down to the beat of the new song, as much as you could without spilling your drink. Jihoon thought you were cute like this.

He stood there enjoying the music with you, his own drink in hand until you heard Wonwoo let out an “Ah, shit,” somewhere behind you.

“What’s wrong?” Jihoon questioned.

“She’s here,” Wonwoo responded.

“Who?” you asked, confused.

You followed Jihoon’s line of sight before you spotted who and he spoke her name. “Shayla.” She had a guy hanging off her, which you could only assume was the one she cheated on Jihoon with. You watched as they acted all lovey-dovey, making Jihoon look positively miserable. Her eyes crossed paths with Jihoon and you could only think of one thing to do, you kissed him.

You made out with him to be exact, tongue and all. You couldn’t bear how hurt he looked, couldn’t stand the fact that Shayla was looking at him like she still cared. Jihoon didn’t know how he should respond other than to let you continue kissing him. You kept sneaking peeks at Shayla out of the corner of your eye as you kept making out with him. Eventually, Shayla looked away with a bit of a sneer and pulled her boy toy to another area of the bar.

You pulled away from Jihoon and said, “Sorry, I was just returning the favor.” He had rescued you in a similar way, albeit a tamer way, that night at the dinner when your ex was there. You took it a little further than intended but you were just making it even, weren’t you?

“Uh, thanks?” Jihoon responded, a light blush warming his cheeks and he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. This was not a reaction you expected from him or even one you thought he could have. It was actually pretty adorable. You tried not to think about it. You didn’t see it because you were too focused on the boy you weren’t supposed to like, but Wonwoo and Seungwan shared a look.

“They are about to play the next song,” you said, trying to redirect attention back to the band and the stage. Jihoon only nodded, not knowing what else to say after that. You let the music take away thoughts of whatever feelings you might be starting to have for your fake boyfriend and by the time the concert was over, you had buried them deep in your mind once again.

In the parking lot of the bar, you said goodbye to Seungkwan, Wonwoo, and Seokmin before you got in the car with Jihoon to go home. It was a little awkward again before Jihoon turned the radio on. (You Drive Me) Crazy by Britney Spears came on and he groaned before he reached over to change the station. “Aw come on, Ji. Leave it there,” you whined before starting to sing along to the song. He grimaced at you but pulled his hand away from the dash, leaving the song on. “You drive me craaaazzzyyy, I just can’t sleep!” you sang loudly and badly on purpose. You poked your elbow into Jihoon’s side, trying to get him to sing with you as you continued with the lyrics.

After a few harder nudges Jihoon belted out, “Baby, thinking of you keeps me up all night”. You gasped, putting your hand over your mouth. You didn’t think you’d actually get him to sing it with you. He continued driving with the two of you singing the rest of the song and giggling like maniacs, Jihoon showing a smile genuine enough that the dimples you only saw one other time appeared. You found yourself having fun more often with Jihoon and spending time with him was beginning to feel more and more natural, like you never parted ways to begin with.

Once again, you found yourself in the journalism room working on things for the ball. More specifically, the decorations. This time you were by yourself, there was yet another party happening tonight and the others left you so they could get Jennie’s house ready since she was hosting this time. Honestly, you didn’t mind and felt like you could get more things done without Jennie’s constant nitpicking.

You were looking at a few different options for string lights when someone you didn’t expect to see walked in. Shayla. “Um, Mrs. Rathburn asked me to bring you the posters you had printed from the big office printer,” she said, showing the large posters she held in her arms.

“Oh, thanks for bringing them. You can set them over there,” you responded, gesturing toward the bigger table next to you. Shayla set them where you indicated and started toward the door but hesitated, turning back around. She looked like she wanted to say something to you. “Was there anything else?” you prompted.

She pondered for a moment before saying,” He seems happier with you.” You were sure what to say when she continued. “He never wanted to go places with me, never wanted to stop by the lab to see me, not the way he does with you.”

The way she said it struck a chord with you. You knew she was a medical science major and worked in the chem lab a lot but it didn’t occur to you before and obviously, she didn’t know either. “He didn’t tell you about his mother, did he?” you asked. The confused look on Shayla’s face confirmed your suspicions. “His mother died when we were younger…of cancer. So you can imagine why he wouldn’t want to be around medicine and labs.”

Now she had a shocked look on her face, mixed with something like pity. “I didn’t know. Well, I hope he continues to be happy with you,” she said as she turned back around and walked out of the room. For once, you felt a little sorry for Shayla but fake or not, Jihoon was with you now. You sighed and got up from the chair you were sitting in, pulling the posters closer to you so you could examine them to make sure they had been printed properly. They looked good and you were glad that nothing was wrong with them.

A few minutes later, Jihoon walked through the same classroom door that Shayla walked out of. “Hey, how's it going in here?” he asked casually.

You shrugged, “It’s going. But, what are you doing here? You didn’t bring me coffee this time.” You grinned, enjoying being able to give him a hard time now without it turning into a big deal.

“Wow, see if I ever bring you coffee again..” he teased back. “Anyway, I was working with Seungkwan on some AV stuff for the school news show and thought I’d stop by. It was strange though, I passed by Shayla in the hall and she was acting oddly nice to me.”

“Huh, weird,” you said. There was no way you were going to tell him that you told her about his mother. He must have had a reason for not telling her, although some part of you was relieved he hadn’t.

“So, how do you feel about having dinner at my house before we go to Jennie’s party? My dad invited you. I think he’s noticed how close we’ve gotten again,” he asked, looking a little sheepish.

“I’d like that,” you responded, the corners of your lips turning up at the thought of Mr. Lee making Jihoon ask you over. You gathered all the things you were working on, organizing them so they made sense when you went to work on them again and left the room to go home with Jihoon.

You had really only been just inside of the door of Jihoon’s house since you reconnected. It felt weird going past the dining room threshold as you followed him into the kitchen, even though as a child you had been in every room in the house. It was a reminder of how things truly had changed after his mom died.

Yet, the sight of Mr. Lee in the kitchen and the familiar smell of his famous Yangnyeom chicken transported you right back to those times when you and Jihoon would get called in for dinner when you had been playing outside or doing homework together. Mr. Lee turned around after plating the chicken. “Glad you could join us, Y/N! I had to practically beg Jihoon to ask you,” he beamed, walking into the dining room to set the large plate on the table.

“Thank you for inviting me Mr. Lee,” you said, politely as you took a seat in one of the chairs at the dining table.

“At least I didn’t have to drag you two inside from the treehouse,” he said with a laugh and you found it ironic that he remembered that as well.

Your eyes shifted to sliding doors on the other side of the dining room, looking out into the backyard to see if the treehouse still existed. “It’s still there..” you murmured as you made out the familiar wood walls poking out the only large tree still in the yard.

“Of course it is! Jihoon kept it up all these years and made sure no nail or board came out of place,” Mr. Lee exclaimed rather proudly. You looked over at Jihoon who was doing his best not to look at you. You thought it would have been destroyed by now. Jihoon’s actions lately were already confusing, but the fact that he had preserved the treehouse all this time confused you even more.

The rest of dinner went well, it was comforting that it felt almost the same as it did when you were young. Well, minus a major person, but you tried your best not to think about that. You and Jihoon were helping Mr. Lee clean up when he glanced at the clock on the wall. “We should think about heading to the party now,” he said.

“I got the rest of this. You crazy kids go have fun at the party,” Mr. Lee said, basically telling the two of you to skedaddle already.

“Don’t wait up,” Jihoon joked, following you out of the kitchen and back into the front room.

Since you were busy enough today, you chose an outfit when you got ready this morning that would translate well from everyday to party. It’s not like you were the host or like it was that special of an event, plus you were willing to bet something would be spilled on it by the end of the night anyway.

“Let me change into something more suitable and I’ll be right back,” Jihoon said to you. You nodded and sat on the bottom of the stairs to wait for him. Five minutes later, he came down the stairs looking effortless and amazing at the same time. Once again, making it hard for you to ignore the ever-annoying butterflies that filled your stomach.

“Let’s get going, we don’t want to be late,” you mumbled, turning your attention back to the front door.

The party was already in full swing when you arrived and you narrowly avoided being mowed over by Mingyu and Mark playing some sort of drunk game involving a soccer ball the minute you and Jihoon walked into Jennie’s house. You took Jihoon’s hand in yours as you wove through people, telling yourself it was so that you didn’t lose him in the crowd but you couldn’t help but feel like they fit together.

You made your way into the center of the house where more things seemed to be going on when you caught the sound of the familiar voices of your friends in the backyard. Jennie was already drunk, laughing loudly as she swayed her hips to the music blasting from speakers on either side of the yard. “There you guys areeeeeeee,” Jennie exclaimed, her words sounding slightly slurred which gave a bit of an indication of how much alcohol she’d had so far.

You stifled a laugh as Miyeon gave you a look that essentially said “help me” as she lightly sipped on the drink she had while keeping an eye on Jennie. Mark suddenly appeared, without Mingyu this time. “Yoooo, Jihoon. Come be my partner, Mingyu got too drunk and I need someone who actually has hand-eye coordination,” he said, trying to rope Jihoon into whatever hair-brained game they had been playing.

Mark dragged him off before he could protest, leaving you with just the girls. “You know, I wasn’t sure about Jihoon in the beginning, but the makeover he had really suits him well. If you weren’t dating him, I would be all over that,” Jennie babbled, the multiple drinks in her system acting like an unwanted truth serum. You felt a hint of animosity toward her, and you had to keep telling yourself that you shouldn’t be. You weren’t dating for real, but in principle, it was since nobody else knew that.

To make it easier to resist the urge to strangle Jennie, you excused yourself and went to get a drink from the bar on the other side of the patio that you assumed Jennie paid to be there. Walking up to the bartender, you ordered something that tasted good but wouldn’t get you blasted immediately. A few seconds wait and you thanked the bartender, taking your drink from him. You turned around, maybe to go find where Mark dragged Jihoon off to when you found yourself face to face with your ex.

“Oh, Y/N. I was actually looking for you,” Johnny said. He was just passing by but he was clearly looking for someone. You, apparently.

“Um, okay…didn’t you come with your new girlfriend?” you asked, confused as to why he was looking for you when he seemed so infatuated with the girl the last time you had seen him.

“Well, that’s kind of why I was looking for you. Let’s find a quieter place to talk,” he motioned to some chairs that sat out off the side of the patio where fewer people were milling around. You sat down in one and he sat in the one across from you.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” you questioned, not exactly interested but he did specifically seek you out.

“I know you are with Jihoon now, but I was wondering if I could take you to the dance?” Johnny asked, with what he thought might be a convincing smile on his face. You choked on your drink. He couldn’t be serious. The very thing you had wanted before everything got messy and he was asking you now?

“But what about your girlfriend?” you inquired.

“She broke up with me, said she found someone new,” he shrugged. You snorted. Ironic wasn’t it? She broke up with him for nearly the same reason he broke up with you.

“Once upon a time, all I ever wanted was for you to take me to the ball I planned. But you know what? I’m not the same person as I was all those months ago and I’m with Jihoon now. Go find some other poor sucker to go with you because I won’t,” you responded and you knew it was true. You weren’t the same person anymore. You could care less about being popular. All you cared about was being yourself. And being with Jihoon.

Johnny looked stunned, “Damn, Jihoon is a lucky guy.” You felt that was your cue to leave and you had to go to the bathroom anyway. So you left Johnny there and went inside to search for the restroom. You walked back into the house through the sliding door and were headed down the hall when you saw it, saw them.

Jennie was talking with Jihoon when suddenly you saw her lips meet his. You didn’t know what was happening and your face crumpled. Immediately, you knew that the feelings you were trying to suppress for Jihoon couldn’t be covered up anymore. Jennie broke free of the kiss with a smirk, turning Jihoon around by his shoulders so that his eyes would meet yours. “Bitch,” you murmured, a sob trying to break free from your chest.

Jihoon’s eyes widened as they met yours. “Y/N, wait!” he shouted, a pleading tone bleeding into it. You didn’t want to hear it. This whole thing was fake anyway. You ignored him and stormed out the front door, not caring where you were going. You just needed out of there. Jennie’s house wasn’t that close to the dorm, but it didn’t matter. You wanted to walk anyway.

You did eventually make it back to the dorm, you didn’t know how long it took you and you didn’t care. Everything was ruined and you felt the most pathetic that you had ever been. You retreated to your room and the warmth of your bed, wanting to never leave it. You should have never come up with this idea if you knew it would turn out this way. You weren’t supposed to fall for your ex-best friend, your enemy.

Jihoon was also miserable, perhaps on a different and newfound level. He thought he was in a bad way when he broke up with Shayla, but it was nothing like the way he felt after Jennie tricked him. Nothing like the way his heart cracked when he saw your face and the way your chin trembled when you saw the kiss and nothing like when he called out to you, only for you to ignore him and walk out the door.

He thought he might have loved Shayla when they were together, but he was so wrong. He loved you and it took losing you to finally realize it, to admit it to himself. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do now, but the most immediate solution was to numb the pain. He knew Wonwoo would come get him anyway, and so he drank. He drank a lot. Likely more than he ever had.

He drank so much that he didn’t even know how time moved forward and transported him to where he was now, outside, throwing his guts up in Jennie’s front garden. He must have called Wonwoo at some point, he most certainly didn’t remember doing it but Wonwoo was suddenly standing there in the yard, waiting to see if Jihoon’s stomach was done forcing out whatever contents were left.

Wonwoo didn’t have much sympathy for his friend at this point. “How does it feel Jihoon? Being part of the popular crowd?” he mocked.

“Shut up, Wonwoo,” Jihoon croaked, slowly getting up from his kneeling position in the grass to slowly tread toward Wonwoo’s car. Jihoon all but melted into the backseat once the two of them were both in the car, his head already starting to pound.

“You really screwed up, you know,” Wonwoo said, once the car was on the way to Jihoon’s house.

“How do you know what happened?” Jihoon mumbled the question

“You know how fast news travels around here,” he responded.

“Considering everyone was at the party, I’m not surprised.” Wonwoo slammed on the brakes, making Jihoon fall forward and smack his nose on the seat in front of him. “Ow, what the hell Wonwoo?!” he yelped, hands moving to his face to touch his now tender nose.

“Everybody was NOT there, Jihoon! Seungkwan and I weren’t there, Seokmin wasn’t there, so no, everybody was not at the party,” Wonwoo nearly growled.

“Okay, sheesh. Everybody was not there,” Jihoon conceded, given his growing headache and the fact that Wonwoo so rarely yelled.

“Get out,” Wonwoo said and Jihoon was about to protest when he looked out of the window to see that they had actually stopped outside his house. “Call me when you’ve decided to return back to being the friend I know.”

Jihoon couldn’t respond, he didn’t have a decent answer for that. He just got out of the car, went into the house, and flopped face-first onto his bed. He did know that Wonwoo was right though, he royally fucked up. The only thing he could think about was talking to you, to see if there was a way to convince you of what truly happened with Jennie.

He rolled back to his side, reaching his arm out to grab the phone from the nightstand. He didn’t know how late it was but prayed you’d still answer the phone. He punched in your number and waited as it rang and rang. He was just about to give up when a tired “hello?” answered.

“Please let me explain,” Jihoon said, immediately.

You sighed. “It doesn’t matter. It was crazy to think we could fake it this long, this is our easy out,” you responded, trying to keep your voice from breaking and giving you away.

“What about the dance? That was the main goal of this whole thing,” he said. Jihoon knew that wasn’t why he wanted to keep this ruse going but it was all he could think to try.

“I’ll figure something out. Or maybe I won’t go at all. Let’s just go back to how things were before.” Tears were starting to slip down your cheeks now and you hung up the phone before Jihoon could hear the sob that left your chest.

After the party, days and weeks continued on but you and Jihoon were not the same. Jihoon spaced out often, going about his days in a trance. He even ignored Shaya’s renewed and constant advances on him. He didn’t want anyone else but you. Wonwoo had seen how depressed Jihoon was and took pity on him, letting everything that happened between the two of them that night go. You threw yourself into ball planning which was ironic considering you likely wouldn’t even be attending anymore and Jihoon spent more time editing in the broadcasting room, only being pulled out by his friends.

You had all but stopped hanging out with all your “friends”, only working with them for the ball because you had to. Everything felt like a blur. You had confronted Jennie shortly after the night of the party, her only excuse being “I was doing you a favor.” Maybe in some way she really was, just not in the way she intended. Your relationship with Jihoon may have started out as a fake one but now your feelings were real and you needed to stop before they destroyed you both.

When the night of the ball came around, you found yourself in your dorm room with no date and crying once again. The dress you had picked out long ago to match the tux you had helped Jihoon pick out was hung on the back of your door, mocking you. Maybe you should go by yourself, it would be weird if the planner herself didn’t attend. You brushed the tears from your cheeks and shook your head. That was enough of that, crying and feeling sorry for yourself wouldn’t change anything.

Then your phone rang. “Hello?” you answered.

“Y/N? Hi,” spoke a voice that was vaguely familiar but not one you’d heard over the phone.

“Seungkwan?” you questioned.

“Yeah, it’s Seungkwan. Listen, I know you probably don’t have a date to the ball anymore and I think it would be a shame if you couldn’t go. You deserve to see your event finished so, how about I take you?” Seungkwan said.

For the first time since the night of the party, a genuine smile crossed your face. Seungkwan had always been the sweetest person you’d known, even after you all had parted ways as kids. “I’d like that,” you responded.

“Okay, cool. I can come pick you up in an hour. Will that be enough time to get ready?” he asked

“Sure, see you soon,” you said, hanging up the phone and scrambling to start getting ready. That gave you an answer to your earlier thoughts of just going to the ball by yourself. You were much happier going with Seungkwan, someone you knew you’d have some fun with. You pulled your dress from where you had been glaring at it earlier, glad that it was no longer going to waste. You grabbed shoes that went with it from your closet and got ready as efficiently as you could.

You were smoothing out the bottom of your dress and making sure the last strands of your hair were in place when one of your dorm mates called up the stairs to let you know Seungkwan was there. You picked up the light sweater and small purse you had set out on a chair and walked down the stairs to meet Seungkwan.

He smiled as he spotted you and said, “You look great.”

“Thanks. You don’t look so bad yourself,” you said back. His simple black tuxedo made him look handsome. You reached the bottom of the stairs and he pulled something out from behind his back, showing it to you.

“It was short notice, but this is for you,” Seungkwan said, holding out a pretty wrist corsage.

You let out a pleased laugh and held out your wrist so that he could slip it on, the white rose simple but pretty. “Thank you, that was sweet of you.”

“Of course, I can't let my best girl feel left out,” he said with a chuckle.

Immediately you were thankful for at least one good thing that came out of all of this. You had a good friend in Seungkwan once again. “Let’s go,” you said and you headed to the dance.

Walking in the doors of the venue you rented, you took in everything. Seungkwan was right, you shouldn’t miss how everything you planned had come together. From the centerpieces on the tables to the twinkle lights winding around the beams in the ceiling, everything you had imagined and planned out. It looked perfect. There was only one thing missing, but there was nothing you could do about that anymore.

You and Seungkwan sat down for a little while at one of the tables, talking about different things and people watching before he asked you to dance. He got up from his seat, holding out his hand for you to take. You took it and he led you to the dance floor. Stopping at an empty spot toward the edge, he placed his hands on your back and you wrapped your arms around his neck. You began swaying to the music the DJ was playing. It was nice and comfortable but of course, it was only platonic with Seungkwan.

“Jihoon really likes you, you know,” he said eventually. You sighed, knowing this topic would come up eventually. Seungkwan cared about both of you. “And I know you like him too.” He continued, recounting how bleak the two of you had been in the past weeks.

“I know Seungkwan, but everything is all messed up now,” you said.

“Well, now is your chance to fix it,” he suddenly said, looking up at something or rather someone.

“What?” you asked, confused.

“May I cut in?” A voice asked from behind you. You let out a small gasp. Jihoon?

Seungkwan’s hands left your back and he pressed a light kiss to your cheek, leaving you and Jihoon on the dance floor. You looked at Jihoon. He was wearing the tuxedo you picked out to match your dress and looked as handsome as ever. He approached you, gently placing his hands around your waist and you let your hands rest at the nape of his neck. Your fingers lightly brushed at the ends of his shaggy hair that you liked so much.

You danced a bit to the slow song that was on before you broke the tension between the two of you. “Why are you here, Jihoon?” you asked.

“Because I missed you. God, I missed you so much,” he blurted, pulling you closer to him. Your heart panged at his words. You missed him too and you knew that you didn’t want to pretend your feelings for him didn’t exist.

“I missed you too,” you murmured.

“I’m so sorry about what happened with Jennie. I swear she tricked me but that’s not what matters. I like you, Y/N. I think I’ve always liked you, before everything got so messed up.” He was on a roll now, telling you all that was on his mind and everything he should have told you from the beginning when you both agreed to that stupid fake dating plan.

Your face broke out into a grin. “I like you, too.” Jihoon must have been holding his breath, because he let out a rush of air in relief at your response. “I asked Jennie why she did what she did and she told me she was doing us a favor. I guess in some way, she really did.”

Then Jihoon reached out a hand to cup your cheek, his eyes looking into yours before he leaned forward to press his lips against yours. There were no fireworks, but something much better as you kissed him back. Warmth. A warmth that radiated through your entire body and you couldn’t have imagined anything better.

You broke away after a few minutes, becoming aware that several eyes were on the two of you. Specifically the eyes of Jennie, Johnny, Mark, Miyeon, and a few of the others. “Who are we making jealous now, Jihoon?” you laughed.

“Everyone,” was his response and he kissed you again, making everything around you disappear.

“Wanna get out of here?” you asked.

“I have just the place in mind,” he answered, cheekily and the two of you left hand in hand.

After the dance, you came bursting through the gate to Jihoon’s backyard, giggling like you were little kids again. The only difference was now Jihoon kept pausing to kiss you every few minutes as he led you to the treehouse. He pulled you with him up the ladder and into the familiar house. Except that instead of just the pillows and the small table that you remember being there before, there were blankets and lit candles set out in the corners.

“Did you plan this?” you asked, suspicious.

“I had hoped?” he responded, innocently.

You shook your head, “You’re lucky I like you.”

“I am very lucky.”

“If I knew you were going to be this cheesy-” He cut you off with another kiss and led you over to the blankets that were laid out in the middle of the wooden floor. He sat down, pulling you to sit with him. He initiated a make-out session that began innocently but was now starting to get heated. He leaned backward, laying back against the blankets and making you lay on top of him.

His kisses moved to your jaw and to your collarbone making you let out a gasp and thread your hands through his dark locks. All the pent-up feelings and chemistry that had built up between you was finally reaching a breaking point, in your childhood hangout no less. Your hands made work with his clothes, taking off his jacket and working on the buttons of his shirt. He pulled the straps of your dress down your shoulders when you finally managed to rid him of the annoying button-down.

To make it easier for him, you straightened your back so he could pull the entire thing up and over your head. You were left in just your underwear and Jihoon paused to look at you before taking off his dress pants. “You are gorgeous,” he whispered, pressing light kisses to your shoulders. You closed your eyes, reveling in the feeling of being loved on by him.

Soon you both had been rid of all remaining garments, leaving you completely naked and hands roaming each other's bodies. Jihoon’s length pressed against your thighs, making you moan at the skin contact and buck against him. He hissed in pleasure and bit his lip, the action increasing the arousal at your core. He moved to grind his head against your sensitive nub and you let out a whine.

After a few minutes of that, you couldn’t stand it anymore. You needed him inside you. “Jihoon…” you breathed out.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Please,” you whimpered.

He reached over to his discarded pants to get the little foil packet from the pocket. He opened it and slid the condom over his cock with a hiss. He steaded your hips and ran his length through your folds a few times before he slowly slid into you, letting you adjust to his size.

“Fuck,” he let out a groan as your heat engulfed him. He began moving slowly within you. Your sacred childhood treehouse was now filled with lewd slaps of skin against skin and moans filled with pleasure. You established a rhythm that had you both slowly chasing your highs together. Your moans had turned to mewls as the coil in the pit of your stomach was stretching to its limit.

“I’m close, Ji,” you whimpered. The use of Jihoon’s nickname drove him to the edge as well and he pumped into you that much harder. The coil snapped and you orgasmed, hard enough that your thighs shook. Your walls contracting around him made Jihoon hit his high as well. His hips stilled and he let out a groan, emptying his seed into the condom.

He slowly pulled out of you and you both collapsed next to each other on the blankets with heaving breaths. After a few minutes and your breathing had returned to normal, Jihoon turned to look at you, his head resting on his shoulder. “So, frienemies?” he asked with a chuckle.

You reached out and smacked him in the chest. “Jihoon!”

“Ouch, I’m kidding. I know we are more than that. So much more than that,” he said, tugging you closer to him and leaving a kiss on your forehead.

“Yes, absolutely more than that,” you agreed. Jihoon drove you crazy, but you came to the conclusion that you didn’t want it any other way.

©️wooahaeproductions

All works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works.

#kvanity #svthub #kbookshelf #ksmutsociety #caratwritersclub #that's so 90's collab #svt woozi #seventeen woozi #svt angst #svt fluff #svt smut #lee jihoon #svt jihoon #woozi fluff

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knchins · 1 year

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Bachinalia - Bachira M.

Summary: Maddened by the festivities of the Bacchanalia, you fall under Dionysus’ captivating glances.

Pairing: Dionysus!Bachira x Mortal!Reader

Reader Type: AFAB - gender neutral (no pronouns used)

Rating: E+

Word Count: 1.8k

Collab: Touch of Divine Rush by @dark-mnjiro

Warnings: Ancient Greece AU (not historically accurate), mentions of omophagia/blood, very mild dubcon, yandere behavior, public /outdoor sex, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, unsafe sex, creampie, kidnapping

Well into the night, under a blanket of stars, the wine flowed, and music tingled the minds and bodies of those engaging in the festivities. Despite happening multiple times a year, the Bacchanalia was always something special and dear to you. You could dance and drink and fuck anyone in any class without repercussion. It was guaranteed to be a night full of debauchery and ecstasy.

It was a night free of self-consciousness, fear, and worries about any problems you might have had. Your hips swayed, your body moving to the rhythmic beat that was playing. Others joined you though you were hardly paying them any attention. This was a night born for the god of wine, theatre, and fertility. It was his great blessing that had the harvest season plentiful, the grapes plump and ripe with flavor, the orchards full of the finest fruit the trees had ever bared.

It was believed that without the ritual reenactment of his birth, the omophagia of animals that were slaughtered in the same way as King Pentheus of Thebes the crops would wither and perish. Frenzied and maddened by lust and fermented fruit, the sacrifice’s blood still stained your hands and mouth. The coppery taste meshed well with the divine wine as you prayed for his love and warmth to flow through you, to bring you to the brink of insanity as he had so many others.

Your prayers did not fall on deaf ears. They hadn’t since you became of age and started attending the Bacchanalia. He listened, quietly, patiently, madly. Waiting for the right moment to pluck you from the crowd so he may place you among the stars.

The time had finally come as your bleary eyes opened to see a figure in the distance motioning for you. A powerful magnetic force had you moving towards him, hips still swaying to the sweet strumming of the lyre. The figure’s amber eyes seemed to glow, a curling devilish smile on his wide mouth full of perfectly white teeth.

You could smell him before you could even see him, the scent of a grape field after a heavy summer rain. The familiarity took you closer, and if you had the wherewithal to have a guard up it would have certainly come crashing down at the smell of home. Your eyes were connected to his as he stepped into the light, a daunting figure standing only at a hundred and seventy-six centimeters, beautiful with duo-toned hair.

He was thin and muscular, his hair as wild as his conniving grin. He reached out for your hand and you graciously accepted, allowing him to pull you into his toned chest as his other arm caught your waist. His lips fell on yours, tasting of wine made from the sweetest of grapes. A whirlwind of lust and madness rushed through the two melding bodies as you began to feel as if he may devour you whole.

Teeth met flesh as a flurry of kisses seared down your throat, small welts of desire forming from the nips and pecks. Your vision swam as you felt like putty in the arms of the stranger, his hands pawing into your robes expertly until his nimble fingers were pressed against your clit.

You gasped, hips moving in time with his digits to create the most pleasing amount of friction possible. His golden yellow eyes were on you, practically glowing in the darkness as he drank in your appearance: disheveled and desperate for release. The pace of his fingers increased as you grabbed helplessly at his robes, trying to stay upright as your knees shook from the pleasure.

“So sweet,” He hummed as his fingers dipped into your dripping core suddenly, eliciting a sharp cry of excitement. “I could turn this into a wine fine enough that it would drive any mortal man mad.” His teasing tone and hard thrust of his fingers made it clear what exactly he was talking about. Your essence soaking into his godly skin.

He brought you to orgasm quicker than anyone had ever before. The dizzying rush of endorphins as you desperately tried to kiss at the skin of his throat, leaving soft brushes of your lips on his throbbing pulse point.

His fingers pulled out with a wet squelch, and the stranger brought them to his lips to have a taste. A pleased look crossed his features, “even better than ambrosia.” He said as you watched his tongue move across his hand, lapping at every last drop of your juices.

Your gaze was transfixed on his mouth as it spread into yet another grin. His unsoiled hand moved to push you against the wall of the building you both were standing beside, the shadow cast by the moonlight the only thing keeping you hidden from the prying gazes of others, though, in all honesty, they were too crazed by their own frenzy to notice the divinity among them.

He dropped to his knees, tugging at your robes in order to open them so he could have full access to your cunt to drink you in even more. Greedy and impatient, you could hear the fabric ripping from his surprisingly firm grasp. You attempted to help him, however, the wild look he gave you caused you to stop, sensing things would not go well for you if you continued.

“Ah, there it is.” He cooed as he gripped your bare thighs and spread them apart before lifting one leg and hooking it over his shoulder. His tongue glided along your outer labia before diving deeper to taste your honey directly from its source.

A moan cascaded from your lips, harmonizing with the distant music as his mouth found its way to your swollen clit. It dragged in a slow circle around the bud as he enjoyed the way it made your thighs quake.

With swirls of his tongue and sharp sucks of his mouth, he drank you in, devouring every inch of your sex. His fingers burned bruises into your thighs, holding them tightly in place as you attempted to pull away to save yourself the pain of overstimulation.

It was no use, he was much too strong. Anchoring you down as he got you off using nothing but his talented mouth. Your hips bucked, grinding down onto his face as his nose pressed to your clit and tongue plunged into you deeper than you thought humanly possible. The thick muscle moved with strong intent within your tightening walls.

Two hands were in his hair, scratching his scalp, tugging at the locks as you hunched over him, trying to find relief from the teetering edge of your second orgasm. One more thrust of his tongue had you nearly falling forward as you came undone over his perfectly divine face.

Your chest heaved with pants as he guided you upwards to relax against the wall once more instead of possibly toppling over. The light of a nearby fire caught his features and you stared in awe at how they glistened with a mixture of your cum and his saliva.

He freed his achingly hard cock from his clothing, pumping it with an eager fist. Your eyes dared to drift downwards to take in his long, blushed member. Unsure of what position he wanted you in, you stood still against the wall, holding your own robes up for easier access.

”How pretty you look,“ He breathed out as he guided one of your legs to wrap around his waist so his leaking tip could press against your slick entrance. ”So willing for my cock, what an obedient little follower.”

With one strong thrust, he was fully inside, pressed in to the hilt as his balls settled between your legs. The ecstasy it gave you left you little room for coherent thought as your back arched in a feeble attempt to push him in deeper.

Bachira chuckled, low and dark as he dragged out his length just to push right back in again. There was no time to adjust to his crazed rhythm, the wet sounds of your fluid-covered sexes meeting reverberated off the wall and nearby tree.

You cried out, not caring who could hear you as your hands met his shoulders, nails digging into the thin cloth of his robe. “That's it, what a good darling.” He cooed as his pace only increased into something completely inhuman.

The god felt you tighten around him at his words of praise, your walls clamping down on him even tighter and sucking him in further. If he knew any better than he'd thought you were no mere mortal, that perhaps you had some divinity in you too.

Now he understood why his father was so ready to stick his dick into anything that moved, anything to find the one perfect hole that he could slot into perfectly. Bachira had never known sex to feel like this, despite being well-versed in it himself.

There was no doubt in his mind that you were created just for him. While your lineage was nothing of importance, while you had been born and raised a simple human on a vineyard, something about the way you tasted, the way you smelled, the way you pulled him in was holier than any goddess he'd ever met.

“My Lord,” your voice strained, desperately trapped between two hard places as he fucked you in a frenzy. You were close again, ready to snap again, but this time you wondered if you could ever possibly be satisfied by a mortal man.

”Bachi,“ He corrected, and hearing the nickname out loud drove it in further that this was the god you had been worshipping for years. The one that this very festival celebrated, and the awe that overcame you was almost greater than the orgasm that hit at the exact same time.

You cried out his name, and while Bachira didn't want to be finished with you yet, he found himself releasing inside of you. A truly unrivaled amount of cum flowed into your still-spasming pussy, filling it to the point where it dripped out around his base.

Bachira knew now that he had tasted you that he couldn't let you go. He couldn't possibly let you remain among mortal men so they could defile your beauty. You were his and his alone, and he'd make sure of that.

”My sweet,“ He purred as he slid out of you and caught you before you could crumble onto the ground. ”You're coming with me.“

As you settled into his strong arms, heavy eyelids drooping shut, you could barely make out the large maniacal grin on the young god's face. He lulled you into a deep slumber before whisking you off to Mount Olympus to be granted immortality and a place amongst the holiest of beings. A place where you could be worshipped beside him until the end of days.

#bachira imagines #bachira x y/n #bachira x reader #bachira x you #bachira smut #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #blue lock x reader #blue lock imagine #blue lock smut #bachira meguru #blue lock bachira #blue lock #bllk #blue lock meguru bachira #meguru x reader

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lorelune · 1 year

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part iv

|| diluc ragnvindr x f! reader || E/18+ || hurt/comfort, fluff, post-trauma || wc: 13.3k || ao3 || masterlist || ← PREVIOUS + NEXT → ||

As much as you allow yourself to, you 'settle' in.

❁ my heart, your song - @firein-thesky ❁

minors & ageless blogs dni

a/n: a!!! chunk!!! AHHHH!!! i'm so excited to finally share more of this piece :'^) thank you endlessly to mao (@itoshisoup) and collab-partner cielo (@firein-thesky) for beta-reading and riffing throughout this piece. their input and edits have been vital to polishing this story and getting it all the way here!! to posting!!! thank you both!!!!! check out the masterlist above to read cielo's piece for this collab <3 leave them and kaeya some love 💓 please enjoy this next chapter, with all its sharp-teeth and softness (and some oral 😎😎!!!!) ENJOY loves!!! <333

...

tags: smoking, vague descriptions of dissociation, references to reader's past, almost-wife (an unnamed oc), some smut (as a treat), soggy soggy soggggy!!!

PART iv: the thaw

Adelinde comes to your door the next day and takes your measurements. Circling you with a sewer’s tape here and there, she records numbers on a little notepad.

“The Wind’s Breath dance is in a few days.” She tells you. Days have been blurring together. “Master Diluc has requested that an outfit be fetched for you for it.”

You should be upset, it seems like an overstep. It is. But, for ‘staying for Windblume’, you haven’t been back to Mond proper since you’ve settled down in the Winery. The Wind’s Breath dance, or rather night of fucking debauchery does have somewhat of a dress code. There’s a traditional style of Mondstadan clothing that most wear, aside from perhaps knights and some merchants. The colors align with Windblume’s yellow, soft teal and creamy ivory.

Certainly clothing you don’t have now, and a night of drinking and dancing sounds absolutely lovely. You remember enjoying the ceremony of it, in your youth.

“... Did you hear Diluc and I last night?” You ask Adelinde when she has the tape around your bust.

Adelinde chooses her words carefully, more interested in the measurements than your question, “I heard shouting by the hearth, but nothing after. Should I have heard more after?”

You flush at her insinuation, “Adelinde—”

“Sorry, sorry,” She laughs without a bite, going to your inseam. “It’s a little too easy to tease you, dear. Forgive me.”

You narrow your eyes at her in jest, rolling them a moment later and let her prod you for the length of your wingspan.

“I did shout at him though.” You admit. “I could’ve chewed him out more. He deserved more, maybe. I don’t know. It feels confusing.”

“Why confusing?”

“Because—” You rub a hand over your face and your balance wobbles. “It’s Diluc. There’s just so much there, good and bad. I don’t know how or if I should broach it.”

Adelinde thinks for a moment, gives a thoughtful hum, and rises, “That’s entirely up to you, whether you choose to examine or confront your history with Diluc, and I’d say the winery, as well. I know that he has caused you a great deal of suffering and grief.”

You laugh, “It sounds like there’s a ‘but’ coming.”

“But,” She smiles. Smooths your collar down. “You also loved him, didn’t you?”

You stew for a moment.

Of course you loved him. Love, still. You’ve buried it so deep in you, but it won’t suffocate. You haven’t fed it in years, starved it from light and air, but it still knows yearning and want better than any other part of you.

You lie, “Once. Maybe.”

“And he loved you too, yes?”

(Oh, he did. He told you so, showed you so, over and over again. In the little gestures of childhood, to firsts that you shared, to the way his eyes shone so brightly for no one other than you. He had always been such a caring boy, and you were the subject of his greatest attentions.)

(Such knowledge has tormented you. To be loved in such a way, and have it ripped away in the way he did—)

“You know this already, Adelinde.” You side-step her question and go the vanity. Fidget with a bottle of perfume left by a previous guest. The glass bottle is small and amber, half-full. It smells floral with a hint of musk; you can tell even before you uncork it.

Adelinde watches you as you do. You can feel her gaze on you. When you dare to look— she keeps a soft expression. Wizened, and perhaps a bit sad. It aches to see her that way. She was there. She had taken care of Kaeya, Diluc and you in your youth. She’d been a fixture. Seen the lot of you through it all.

You wonder how she has beared it.

“Such care does not go away easily.” She says gently. “Even if we would like it to. Even if living would be easier if they did. I think both you and the master of the house know this well.”

You pop the cork on the perfume. It’s oily, and sticks to the tips of your fingers. You grimace. “It is... difficult to imagine Diluc caring about me, even residually, after his departure.”

“I imagine so.” Adelinde says so kindly. “But, I know the Master well enough to say he wouldn’t have invited you back to the manor so openly if he didn’t care for you. He’s not the type of man to do things he doesn’t want to do.”

(She’s right.)

(You remember Diluc dragging his feet and bemoaning having to wash up after days on the riverbank, covered in sand and dirt. How his hair would snarl and get so knotted— he hated brushing it, his scalp too tender and Crepus was, respectfully, a bit clueless on how to manage Diluc’s hair. You wonder—)

You rub your forehead, then your cheeks. “Even still. It’s hard—”

(Because you simply cannot fathom Diluc loving you still. Such a reality cannot exist. If it did— if that’s true—)

Adelinde must see your panic and redirects. “I think it would serve you well to try and remember where you are. Stay grounded in the good things you can find in the present, here, rather than a past that hasn’t been kind to you.”

“... I don’t have to forgive him, do I?”

“No. Not unless you want to.” Adelinde grabs your shoulders and squeezes. “Enjoy the fields. Visit your friends. Catch up with Elzer, if you can too. Maybe Kaeya—”

“Not Kaeya.” You don’t mean to snap, but you do.

“No Kaeya, then.” Adelinde seems unaffected. She smooths your collar and tucks your hair behind your ear. “Lisa, then. I’m sure there are folks who will continue to need your healing, too. Not to mention I do think Diluc will give you as much wine as you’d like.”

“Please, I’d rather he didn’t think of me as a drunk.” You paw at your cheeks as Adelinde pulls your ear with a cheeky smile.

“Does that mean we can’t share a bottle by the hearth? That’s a shame.”

“Oh, I never said that. We’ll just have to wait until Diluc goes to bed.”

“That’s not necessary.” Your statement gives Adelinde pause. You catch it, how Adelinde schools her expression and straightens herself. “I’ll be sure the master doesn’t give us any grief.”

You could pry. There’s something there. You know how to smell out a secret— half of being a physician traveling from citadels to isolated villages is picking out people’s hidden aches and pains. Ones they come accustomed to hiding or have become used to. It’s a learned skill, one you did not have in your naivete and youth, but you’ve honed it now. You see Adelinde falter.

Diluc has always been dawn— the insinuation of Diluc and the night causes her to stumble.

You do not pry. You school yourself. Because you are here for Windblume. And to find this damn healer. And if Diluc hadn’t invited you to his (not your) home, you’d be happily sleeping in your tent just outside of Mondstadt proper.

You do not need to entangle yourself more than necessary.

(You’ve already stepped too close to a chasm that you’ve avoided for far too long. You do not realize how steep its edges are or how fragile its cliffs.)

You laugh to yourself, “As if I’d let him.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t.” Adelinde softens once more. You can see the wrinkles around her eyes and in the center of her forehead. Thick patches of freckles on her nose. “ You, though. Take your time. Rest. Be good to yourself. I’m always here to talk, if you would need or like... and if I may?”

“Of course.”

“I’ve given the Master similar advice. He’s more affected than he lets on.” Adelinde reveals and presses her lips to your forehead. “You are both dear to me, and I don’t wish to watch either of you suffer in the ways you have. Though, I won’t mettle more than this.”

You sit with the knowledge she’s presented.

“Thank you, Adelinde.” And you hug her hard like you’re trying to suck the wisdom from her body into your own. “May I ask you one other thing?”

“Of course, dear.”

(You feel unsteady. You don’t want to think about this. But, perhaps, it’ll provide you some stability. Assuredness.)

“Did you ever end up telling Diluc about what happened while he was gone?” You can’t look at her. Even if you were, your gaze would be elsewhere. Even acknowledging ‘it’ (forget, forget, forget) has you feeling untethered.

Adelinde grabs your hands in hers and intertwines your fingers. They’re worn, calloused from washing and carrying burdens she shouldn’t have to.

“No, I didn’t,” Adelinde says, softly. “Both Elzer and I have kept true to what we promised you when you left for Snezhnaya. Though Diluc has... asked, we’ve been vague about it over the years.”

You’re grateful. Endlessly.

(It means that something is still sealed, well-bottled and shoved away, and hidden. It was the only request you made of them upon your departure.)

“Thank you.” You hug her, but Adelinde is already moving to pull you close. She strokes the back of your head like a mother would.

“Always, dear.” Adelinde assures you. You scrunch the fabric of her dress in your fists and bite your tongue.

(Lest you reveal too much, or break something that should stay fractured but whole.)

...

The Winery gets pleasantly warm during the spring afternoons. The sun slants just right, and the light that spills in heats the manor better than any of its many hearths could. You leave your window open, soaking in the bird songs and petrichor from the morning drizzles. You’re half-tempted to wander in the vining fields, but abstain.

You’ve spent the afternoon mulling over Adelinde’s advice. You trust her and her sagely wisdom. Without her guidance, you surely would’ve crumbled during your tenure as the winery’s unofficial master. You had no reason to doubt her, or think that she was leading you astray with her words—

And yet.

(How could Diluc care about you? How, how, how—)

You fist into your own skull, as if you could quiet your thoughts with nothing more than brute force.

The day lazily slinks by, and you meander to the kitchens for a meal as the sun goes gold with the evening.

You’re surprised to find Diluc there.

The kitchen is an organized mess, notably. Bowls and latched boxes of dry ingredients lay out on the countertops, and the center prep station is dusted in flour with several round balls of dough at the ready. You see a bottle of milk and bright yellow dust in a jar.

Diluc’s jacket has been discarded, hung on a hook near the back door entry to shield it from any potential mess. He’s left in his trousers and waistcoat, any of the more ornamental gold bits have had their sheen dulled by baking dust. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. He kneads a ball of dough with a motion that looks far too practiced for someone who was once a knight, and now a businessman. Strong, worn hands, ducking into the dough, then out, smearing it on the butcherblock. His forearms bulge. It’s obscene.

He must notice you, but he doesn’t stop. You side-step him to the icebox, fish out a handful of berries and a wedge of cheese. You perch on one of the counters and fold your legs under you, stretching to grab a knife from a block.

“... Are you going to spectate?” Diluc asks, pausing, only to look at you for a brief moment before continuing his kneading.

You hum, combining a bite of berry and cheese and speaking through it, “I suppose. What are you making?”

“Sweetbread.”

“When did you learn to make bread?” You ask, a bit baffled. He’d always been a rather poor cook, and an even worse baker.

“Sometime back. I was forced to, while I was away.”

“... Oh?”

Diluc doesn’t look at you, “A comrade’s wife taught me how to. She said it was an important life skill.”

“That sounds about right.” You’d never mastered sweetbreads, but you feel quite adept at making flatbreads on round stones.

“These were supposed to be a bit of a surprise,” He grumbles under his breath. Almost pouting. “A gift... And perhaps, an apology— for you. For yesterday.”

“... Oh?”

“... ‘Oh’?”

You trip over your words, shoving a berry into your mouth to try and disguise your stumbling, “I didn’t expect you to apologize.”

“I’m not yet, the bread isn’t done.” Diluc sets the finished ball into another bowl, greased with oil and butter.

“I see.” You raise an eyebrow and take another bite. The berries stain your fingertips wine red. “Why are you apologizing?”

“I overstepped,” Diluc says simply, adjusting his sleeves and going to work the next dough ball.

“No— I. That’s not—” You groan, and throw your face in your hands. It feels warm. “It’s fine, Diluc.”

“Denying it won’t stop me from apologizing.” He shoots back. “You have every reason to be angry with me. Besides, this bread will go to waste otherwise.”

You shoot him a half-baked smile. A distraction, for both you and him. Hopefully, it’s enough to disguise the way your shoulders go rigid and the way you white-knuckle the lip of the corner of the counter. His words bounce around in your skull, like a mocking echo that just won’t shut up—

(How long had you waited for that admission from Diluc? How many star-filled nights have you toiled, once, craving that validation from him? You wanted him to balm the wound that he left, even if you knew it was impossible.)

(At some point you asphyxiated the want. Crushed it down into something that could be swallowed but never digested. Hope can’t be killed, but archons, did you try.)

Diluc’s words unearth the dormant thing. You don't think Diluc understands the gravity of what he’s said to you, and you hope he doesn’t put it together.

(It feels raw. He’s cut you and bared your insides without regard.)

“… Fine.” You concede to him (hopefully he doesn’t prod you further. Bear your neck to him and perhaps the action will be enough to keep him interested and tempted but not to bite down.)

You refuse to look at him. You smash the last bits of a raspberry between your forefinger and thumb and watch the juices drip down your skin. It’s a pretty red that you suck off when it reaches the knuckle.

Diluc sighs, and perhaps scoffs, before the sound and motion of dough kneading resumes in your periphery.

“I’m sorry too,” you say, breaking the fragile reverie.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Diluc speaks quickly. He’s not wrong, but you feel inclined to anyway.

(Your rage is more than justified. The thing bubbling under your skin— guilt, regret, topped with dread— is as well.)

You hop off the counter and teeter to bear your weight on your good foot. A hiss of pain gets caught behind your teeth and you chew the inside of your teeth. Diluc regards you, expectantly, hair spilling over his shoulders, half-hunched over his last ball of dough.

“I should give you the benefit of the doubt, at least a little.” You sigh. “I jumped for your throat, and that perhaps, wasn’t fair. You had a point, it was a long time ago—“

“Stop diminishing yourself. It’s painful.” Diluc interrupts you for once. “I deserve your ire. My reaction to your anger wasn’t justified or appropriate.”

“You stop being self-deprecating.” Guilt-ridden bastard. “Regardless of what you deserve, which I won’t be debating with you, I still care about you.”

(Love, probably. Most certainly.)

It’s an admission you don’t mean to give him. You instantly feel too vulnerable with the feelings; you wish you had kept it close to your chest and hidden. You watch your words cut him, and Diluc freezes. He’s so plain with his reaction that it’s almost comical. His eyes go wide and he goes stiff as a board. You don’t fare any better. You feel as though you’ve revealed a card in your hand that you shouldn’t have.

(You trade blows. One for one, flayed flesh for a split spine.)

You chew the inside of your cheek. You taste blood. Diluc clears his throat and collects himself. You leer away, laughing under your breath.

(A younger Diluc would’ve jumped at your words. Shown so brightly he could rival any hearth, become a human sun, if only for a moment. He would’ve gleamed. It’s difficult to admit that he’s darkened.)

He doesn’t return the sentiment— not directly. Not the same way.

Diluc finishes his dough and leaves it to rest before exiting the room without a word. You don’t get a chance to protest, he’s back so quickly, with a —staff— cane in his hand. A metal-caste owl sits at the top while the wood is stained a rich burgundy.

Diluc hands it to you.

“I don’t know if it’s sized correctly. I based it on the measurements Adelinde provided me.”

“… Thank you.”

You swallow and accept the gift. It is sized correctly, perfectly even, and it takes some adjusting to re-remember how to bear your weight on it. The ache in your foot lessens almost instantly, quelled.

“It surprised me, when you didn’t have a cane with a limp that severe,” Diluc says, watching you take a few test steps.

“I did have one— several. Previously.” You examine the metal owl with a frown. “Where did you get this?”

“My father’s study.”

“Diluc.” You freeze. “I can’t possibly accept a Ragnvindr family heirloom.”

“Nonsense.” He rolls his eyes. “It’s been collecting dust for decades. Make good use of it.”

“Diluc—”

“Take it. Don’t be so stubborn. You can hardly walk.” Diluc huffs, though the blush on his cheeks hasn’t waned. “What happened to your previous canes?

“Uhhh—” You drawl, clicking your tongue and examining the floor. “One was surely stolen. At least two broke? I definitely lost one at a pub— in Fontaine? I never got a chance to go back for it.” There was a village victim to a particularly bad flood that needed tending to. Canes can be replaced.

It takes you a moment to place the look on his face. His brows pinch. Mouth set in a line. Creases under his eyes—

Disapproving?

It snaps to something more neutral, a moment later. Unreadable and guarded, entirely expected and perhaps welcome. He returns to his baking, tidying up the kitchen with his back to you. You open your mouth, then close it a moment later.

(Later, there’s a knock on your door accompanied by a tray of steaming sweetbread, the rounds decorated with edible flowers and dusted with sweet flower pollen. Diluc apologizes, barely able to meet your eye. It should be insulting, but it’s cute, in a boyish way. You let it be cute. It doesn’t silence the pangs and pains in your chest, but it makes them easier to bear.)

(The sweetbread is delicious, and you half-wonder about the star map that led him to learn a skill so foreign to a lord like him.)

…

You aren’t sleeping well. Maybe it’s penance, for how well you slept your first days at the winery. Your body is, overall, less fatigued than before. The sleep debt you’d run up was somewhat satiated, which apparently meant not fucking sleeping—

(You could fall asleep, mind you. You just couldn’t stay that way. Dreams woke you each night, of memories and flashes, rib-breaking sensations, and the crunching of bone. Rain-soaked silk clinging to your arms and legs. A bloody nose. A hangover so bad you vomit red and black. A garnet red stone, set in black leather, round as low-set sun.)

(Fragments, really. Twisted and mangled together.)

You shoot up in bed, again, sweat dripping down your sternum, sticky on your forehead. The throb in your chest hardly wanes as you struggle to catch your breath. You clutch at the fabric over your collarbones, breathing through your mouth in light pants.

Your thoughts spin and tumble. It takes you a moment to distinguish moment from moment. Where you are. What you are. When you are.

Shifting for a sip of water, a shot of pain tangles around your foot and ankle. The muscle is drawn too tight with your fear, panic tugging the tendons wrong. You muffle your own pained wince, keeping it just a wince, and bite down on your lip.

You try to settle, after a while, praying that a few deep breaths release enough tension for a proper sleep. The electric zing that eats at your ankle keeps you awake, uncomfortable to the point of being unbearable. Your heart won’t stop racing with it.

You give up trying to sleep, instead wandering from your room with your new cane, and situate yourself in front of the great room’s dim hearth. You fuss with it, tossing another log and a bit of Pyro starter on the spitting embers. It catches, lights the room soft amber and you collapse on the lounge closest to it. You face your right foot toward the heat of the fire, hoping the heat loosens some of the bound-up muscle.

You splay out. Veg. Keep your eyes half-lidded and watch the fire lazily. Fixate on the licking flames and let the heat burn away your dream and hope it chases the physical pains too.

There’s a slam, when you’re beginning to nod off. Wood on wood— a door near the back of the manor. There are a few more bumps and thuds, ones you can’t place or recognize. You straighten up and listen to the heavy steps that follow. No one would be stupid enough to just break into Dawn Winery, not when Diluc’s fighting prowess is somewhat legendary in Mondstadt.

You don’t see Diluc enter, only hear him. His stride is wrong.

“You smell like blood.” You say with the tempo of the crackling flame. “Is it yours?”

Diluc freezes, just behind the lounge. Caught.

“Why are you awake?” He asks, unmoving.

You crane your neck and assess his condition as quickly as you can, “Couldn’t sleep. Are you injured?”

He sighs, “Not severely, it’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“Oh no, nuh-uh, let me see.” You reach for him around the lounge. “You can’t board a physician and then expect them to ignore you when you come back in the early hours of the morning blood-soaked. Besides, I’d be breaking oath.”

Diluc grumbles something under his breath but regardless comes around to you.

He’s not really bloodsoaked. Not entirely. He’s missing a glove and there’s a slice through the sleeve of his jacket, burnt at the edges. Dried blood coats his palm. You ask him to move his jacket, and you see a red stain blooming over his abdomen.

“Can you take off your jacket?”

“That’s not necessary.” He straightens his lapels and takes a step back. “My injuries are minor. Don’t strain yourself.”

“Diluc.” You narrow your eyes. “Let. Me. Help. This is literally my job.”

“You’re sleep-deprived.”

“Healing a flesh wound takes as much effort for me as it would take you to lift your sword.” You scoot forward on the couch, resisting tugging him closer. “It’s really no trouble. Please, Diluc.”

It must be your begging, maybe. You’re too engrossed in Diluc’s condition to notice how his cheeks pink. He shrugs off his overcoat, and you cajole him into peeling off his waistcoat as well. It sticks to his undershirt and you wince.

It’s easy to slip into your role as a healer. It’s a clinical way of thought, you’re presented with a problem and the way to fix it is apparent and well within your abilities. Seeing Diluc as a patient rather than… Diluc is a cheap trick, and perhaps if you were well-rested and less dissociative, you’d feel guilty.

“Were you burned?”

“Only singed.”

You hum thoughtfully, “I need to touch you to heal you. Is that alright?”

He nods, slowly, deliberately, “That’s fine.”

He’s not fully bare, so you need to do some exploratory touching. You’re not sure which is more vulnerable— for Diluc to be shirtless in front of you in the firelight or the way you lay your hands gently over his sides (ticklish, you recall. You watch him suppress a jump.) Your fingertips skim over his ribs, flares of Dendro wiggling into his skin. It bounces around, then back to you.

Three bruised ribs on his left side. Four-inch laceration on his right side.

“This will only take a moment.” You send a strong thread of Dendro through him. Liquid and lengthy, and carefully stitch the wound closed. The skin knits back together easily, clean and free of infection.

You move on to his next wound and Diluc moves a step closer.

“Your hand, please?” You ask, soft. The heat of the room has lulled you.

(The contact is weakening you.)

Diluc offers it to you, and you take it, as gently as you can. This wound has more burning, but nothing too severe.

Second-degree burns affecting seven inches of cumulative skin.

“Who the hell were you fighting?” You ask, brows furrowing as you cleansed and balmed the wound. You wince as your Dendro eats away the burn. “ What were you fighting?”

“Unimportant.”

“I hardly think so.”

“Drop it.”

“ Diluc—”

“Something that deserved it.”

You huff. “Fine, keep your secrets.”

We all have them.

The wound has healed, but you find it... hard let go of Diluc’s hand. It hits you how close he is. You sit with your legs spread and splayed, and he stands between them. He’s inches away, and you’re level to his navel.

You look up at him, swallowing the heat in your cheeks.

Diluc has always been pretty. Since he was little, just a cherubian boy running about the prairie grasses. He grew into it well, though he has gotten a bit more rugged over the time you were apart. You recognized scars littering his forearms, and felt scar tissue buried in new flesh. His hair has grown obscenely long, tied back with a ribbon into a bow. It's only half-up, now, spilling over his shoulder as he looks down at you.

Your breath catches in your throat. He swallows and you fixate on the bob of his throat.

(You haven’t been close to him like this in so long. Since you were young, having so many firsts together in his too-big bed. His hands look bigger, warmer. How many times did you crave him, the comfort and heat of him? How many times did you wish the stars were twisted and angled just a little differently, so that you never lost him in such a way?)

(To be so close— it’s an unavoidable thought.)

You squeeze his hand, “Do you want to be farther away?”

“No.” He squeezes yours back— harder. Longer. Like he’s afraid. It makes a fragile thing buried in your shake and fracture. “Do you?”

“No.” You swallow, but it’s late. And you’re weak. All crushed bones and scar tissue. “This might even be nice.”

‘This’ is loaded. Bigger than the word, bigger than the distance your traveled while crisscrossing Teyvat. Maybe bigger than the distance between the stars you scorn.

Diluc rubs a thumb over the back of your hand. It shakes. The heat of the fire and Diluc are making something warm and tender rise up from the base of your spine to the back of your skull. You shake with it.

“It is,” Diluc admits, voice thick and sticky. “Thank you.”

“Of course. It’s my job.”

“Not just that.” Diluc squeezes your hand again. Harder. Searing. “For allowing me this. You shouldn’t.”

“Don’t tell me what I should and shouldn’t do.” You frown. “You’re being silly. And self-loathing. Lord Ragnvindr, I wouldn’t ever expect such a thing from you.”

Diluc sputters a half-laugh, and for a moment, he sounds like the knight you first held hands with when you were young.

“I only mean to say that you have every reason to be upset and keep me at arm's length. I wouldn’t hold it against you if you did.”

“It’s not like I’m not upset with you.” You worry the fraying skin around his cuticle. “I’m indulging myself too, you know.”

(You dance around what this means so well. When did you both learn the steps, as aptly as you twirl now?)

“That’s comforting.” Diluc pulls his hand from yours and it flexes into a fist. He surprises you then— kneels, lowering onto his knees between your legs. You’re at eye level. You feel pleasantly faint. “You must tell me if I misstep.”

“Oh, you know I will.” You give a warbling laugh and your stomach flips.

So much of Diluc is unfamiliar, but proximity with him isn’t. The heat he radiates is the same as you remember, even if he’s a bit rougher and far more wilted. He hovers close, tentative, but not in the boyish, inexperienced way you once knew. He’s not expectant, he’s not taking and tugging and searching— he lingers but only comes so close, giving you the ability to make the first move.

He sets up the pieces but doesn’t force your hand to play. It’s wretched. It’s thoughtful, or it’s cowardice— either way, it's to your benefit.

Diluc licks his lips, throat bobbing. You can’t meet his eyes for too long— there, you see searching. He’s lost his way with words, and you can see the way he grapples for the right ones now.

“I missed you.”

(‘Right ones’. Subjective. The ones he gives you are objectively the wrong ones. Only because they force another fissure into you.)

(You’ve spent so long swallowing your own desires and convincing yourself that there was no possible way for Diluc to feel that way about you. You created any number of mental theses as to why Diluc discarded you. Anything to make it bearable.)

(Anything to make the past palatable and controllable.)

(Forget, forget, forget—)

You tense with the thought. Your wound pulls wrong and you yip. Shooting away from Diluc, you double over to your right side. You wrap your hand around your foot (wishing praying cursing that your Vision doesn’t allow you to touch your own wounds) and slap a hand over your mouth. The pain brings nausea and the last thing you want to do is vomit on Diluc.

Diluc immediately fusses, hands hovering over your shoulders and neck, but never touching. His Vision must be alight— you swear you can feel the lick of imaginary flames off his skin.

“You’re unwell.” Diluc kneels lower, hands apparently alright to touch, and he tries to shoo yours away from your ankle.

You hold fast, “It’s just a temperamental wound.” Your voice wavers and you rest your forehead on your knee. “I’m sorry for ruining the moment.”

“Hush, nothing’s ruined.” He idles his hand over your own. Your vision blurs and you really think you might throw up. “Let me see.”

“No.”

He says your name, like a cut.

“It’s already healed, Diluc. Just wrong. This happens. There’s no use poking at it.”

“Satiate my curiosity, then.”

“Why should I?”

“Because I’m asking honestly.”

You hesitate. Think if this is going to unearth something that you’d rather have stayed buried. Perhaps it was the distance, the heat from the hearth and Diluc in tandem making you melt into the couch—

“Fine. Only because of those sweetbreads the other day.”

You attempt to peel off your stocking, trembling, but Diluc stops you. His palm (so, so warm. Like the kindest flame) wrap around your wrist and places it back on your lap.

“Let me.”

Your mouth dries, tongue going heavy and useless. Tentatively, you scoot back on the couch and adjust so your right leg is fully extended. Your belly feels exposed, the softest parts of you bared in a way that feels foreign and uncomfortable.

Diluc waits until you situate yourself, resting patiently on folded knees. Palms on his thighs.

(He looks like he’s praying, like you’re the altar. This is both an indulgence and a rite.)

One of his wide hands hooks under your knees and lifts your injured foot from the ground. Diluc pushes your night clothes aside, finding the top edge of your stocking and slips his fingertips just below its edge. You jolt with the contact (what’s beyond touch starvation?) and hiss under your breath.

He pauses, flame licking in the reflection of his eyes, “Is this alright?”

You nod, his touch sears you.

He peels your stocking away. His touch drifts to the arch of your foot, wrapping his fingers around with enough force to be comfortable, secure. It almost burns— but in the good way. Open flame on nearly-frost-bitten fingers. The hot springs in Inazuma or the hot stone massages they favor in Natlan. It seeps into you.

The heat goes cold when Diluc stills, eyes widening and shoulders drawing up. You watch his jaw lock and you nearly rip your foot from his grip. Gruesome—

“How did this happen?” There are visible ridges of shattered bone, prominent enough to catch the shadows the fire throws. Two toes with mutilated nails, still. A scar or two.

“I fell.”

“Don’t lie.” snaps Diluc. “This is not the kind of injury you obtain from a ‘fall’.”

You start to sigh his name, but he cuts you off—

“How.”

“I. Fell.” You grit out. Your chest hurts again.

Diluc traces the worst of it— a diagonal scar on the bottom of your foot, from the ball of it to your big toe. (You don’t remember the moment, only the sensations. The feeling of the knife slicing, hitting things it shouldn’t—)

You jolt, squirm, protest under your breath but Diluc tightens his grip, firm and unyielding.

“P-Please—” Your voice breaks and you lurch and grab his shoulders without thinking. Steadying yourself, grounding yourself on the bulk of him. “Please, don’t pry on this one, Diluc. Not tonight.”

(Perhaps you’ll muddle through the memory of it to give to Diluc. One day. Not now, when you feel like the gooey center of you shifts a little too close to seeping out of the spaces between your ribs. If you fall apart, will you ever collect yourself back up again?)

Diluc stills and stares at you. Into you. A little wrinkle appears between his brows, a half-scowl formed in the curve of his pretty lips. It makes your heart pound. You nearly backpedal, tell him the whole truth, the one you’ve shoved down your throat like chrysanthemum petals. The garden you’d throw up—

He relents. Allows you respite. You take it greedily.

Diluc coaxes you to lie back down on the couch, touch hovering most of the time. His contact ginger, “You don’t have to give me anything you don’t want to.”

The assurance hits you in the chest. Like a crack that bludgeons your sternum in three.

“‘Kay. Thanks.” You say. Two words is all you can get out around the threads that bind you upright and together.

Diluc sits back on his haunches, going back to your foot. The pads of his thumbs massage at your ankle, slow and light at first as he gauges your reaction. You swallow thick, watching him with darkening pupils. His touch moves higher, up your calf, shifting your bed clothes aside.

He’s more worn. Calluses make the skin of his thumbs just a bit rougher than you expect. The vision on his waist thrums and throws light as he touches you. Pressing his heat into you. His touch makes you goopy. You slouch into the couch.

He never ventures higher than your knee, but it’s enough. Maybe it’s too much. The lack of sleep and the fucking heat put you in a state just above sleep. He’s horribly gentle with you, pausing and noting every twitch and jolt you shake out. Asks low and quiet if a certain touch is too much. It’s all overwhelming— decadent. You glut yourself on it, just a bit. The pain of the injury dissolves and all that you’re left with is Diluc. Dutifully petting you and soaking you in something rich and spiced.

You only feel warm. It spreads up your body— cows the shaking little thing between your ribs. Diluc relaxes you into a slump that has you sleepily blinking, perhaps keening once or twice— you can’t recall. Perhaps Diluc slides back on your stocking and helps you up. Perhaps he guides you up the stairs and back to your guest room.

(You think about inviting him in. You think about dragging him down and in to bring him closer to that thing in your chest that festers, balm it.)

(You think better of it.)

(You’re too tired to notice the way he lingers on you. His hands, holding you a moment too long. The squeezes to your sides and arms as he walks with you up the stairs. Even when your own breath stutters, you’re unaware. Blissfully ignorant to the effect you have on Diluc.)

You dream of it, maybe. Warmth and heat and familiarity that isn’t wretched. You dream of favorable stars and a warm bed.

...

Something shifts between the two of you after that. Even if the moment of vulnerability was brief, it's like a rift has opened up in your chest. Split. Cleaved. Archons.

You feel the inexplicable urge to be near Diluc, despite all of the unsettled anger that burns in your belly. The memory of the heat of him is an intoxicant in and of itself. The way Diluc touched you like you were something fragile— cherished.

(Archons, you’re fucked, aren’t you?)

You avoid Diluc, somewhat. You take to watching him instead. Perching in your bay window, you watch him work in the fields during the mornings and evenings, and listen to him thump around in his office during the midday when the sun is high. He receives a guest or two, maybe, there’s always activity in the main foyer of the winery. You suppose, given that the manor functions as both a home and a business, and it’s the busiest season for Dawn Winery, it makes sense.

Elzer, actually, is the one who gives you a bit of grief for it.

“He doesn’t bite, you know,” Elzer tells you when you perch on his desk, early one morning while Diluc is out. “You may even enjoy talking to him.”

“We have talked.” You clear your throat, pounding your chest. “Just. It’s complicated.”

“I’m aware.”

Elzer was around, during your tenure as ‘master’ of Dawn Winery. Though Adelinde grew closer to you, Elzer was still a reliable and kind confidant. More-versed in the business end of things than either of you were, and from him you learned a great deal. He, in turn, learned a great deal about you. Adelinde too. Gods, how many nights did you sit at this same desk, organizing mislabeled paperwork over goblets of wine and teacakes?

“Does your wrist still bother you?” you ask.

“You’re deflecting,” deadpans Elzer.

“You’re not answering my question, either.”

He rolls his eyes. “Yes. It does. I take a tincture for it sometimes.”

“... Can I see it— your wrist? Let me have a look.”

He holds out his arm and you shift around the desk to prop yourself up on the same side he sits on. Your cane lays idle against the matching mahogany. There’s a reluctant pull at his brow, but he still scoots forward on his seat, rolling up his sleeve.

Taking his arm in a gentle, practiced grip, you send sparks of Dendro through him. Elzer’s brow scrunches with the feeling— you’ve been told it can be jarring if you’ve never experienced Vision healing before. You tighten your grip.

You smooth a finger over the meat of his thumb. “Tendonitis, still?”

“You always said that’s what it was, but never gave me anything conclusive back then.”

“Well, it certainly is,” you huff. Inflammation crawls around the tendons of his hand and wrist, stretching into his shoulder.

You sink a balm of Dendro into him, rather than sparks, more like a sheet. Elzer visibly relaxes, hand going a bit more slack and loose in your grip. Sagging forward, like a ragdoll with half-cut string. Your other hand rises to steady him, firm and solid against his shoulder.

“Does Diluc work you too hard?” You send another wave of it through. “I’ll chew him out, if you want. I have nothing to lose.”

“He doesn’t.”

“Oh, so it’s just the bad posture?”

Elzer snorts and you can’t help but laugh with him. It’s easy to rib him, like a little brother. He was practically your same age, but he always kept the aura of someone your junior. As adept as he was at everything he did, there’s a boyish charm to him that hasn’t faded with time.

You barely see him out of the corner of your eye— Diluc. Rounding a corner with an armful of papers. His grip goes tight and his steps stutter as he enters the little atrium. Elzer tenses behind you. The Dendro lingering in him bounces back to you.

Diluc clears his throat, fist over his mouth. He looks at Elzer, then you, and clears his throat again—

“Ah, I suppose I’m interrupting working hours. Apologies.” You shrug and hop off the desk. Wobbling past Diluc, you disappear into the shadows of the house.

It’s intentional, really. You don’t want to give Diluc any more of an opening than he already had and fuck— you saw him, didn’t you? The way he drew up, the fire that ignited in his eyes at the closeness—

Archons, Diluc, jealous?

The thought is too sticky to cope with. You retire for a nap early in the afternoon.

...

Nightmares come for you again, and you busy yourself wandering the halls of Dawn Winery. It’s a moonless night, and far too dark to be wandering without a lantern or candle, but you do so anyway. Adelinde and Elzer are surely asleep, as with the rest of the staff. You assume that Diluc is out, as he tends to be late at night. The tap of your cane against the wooden floors echoes against the silence of the rest of the winery.

Your latest nightmare felt repetitive. The same images, the same feeling of being untethered against an unstoppable swell. Drowning but without water. Asphyxiating on something that crawls up from your lungs.

(Red, rotten memories. Rotten.)

(Forget, Forget, Forget.)

You pause in front of a particular door in the south wing. Ambient light from the manor bounces off its brass handle, polished by clearly tarnished with time. Its design is different from the crystal doorknobs Diluc has replaced around the rest of Dawn Winery. Its original, untouched— a relic.

You pause in front of a particular door in the south wing. You know this door. The wood, unlike most of the rest of the manor, hasn’t been re-stained or replaced. It’s the same dark tone you remember from your youth, and the knob shines the same brassy gold. It appears unchanged.

You wonder if you’re still dreaming.

Clearly, you aren’t, as you enter the room. Your nose burns as you do. A layer of dust covers everything— the table that cuts the room in two, the stacks of discarded books, and old, dry quill. An untouched pile of blankets and pillows in the corner appears to be lightened, sun-bleached.

You kick the pile and laugh, something low and a little defeated.

The Small Study hasn’t been touched. Never redone, not even cleaned. It’s entirely preserved and more painful to see because of it.

(So much tied up in a simple room. You had avoided it at first, didn’t you? You knew everything that happened here. A love that bloomed, a betrayal, your own decay.)

All that’s left is the skeleton of the room. Flesh eaten by time and memory, consumed to this point where there’s nothing further to rot. Just a vague shape to mourn.

Based on the absolute state of neglect and disuse, you assume that Diluc hasn’t poked around this room much, or at all, in the time since he returned. You’re grateful that— you hid a secret or two here that now feel too dangerous to have in the open.

(Despite the fact that it’s clear this place is too painful for Diluc to touch, too. He’d never find the bits of you that you buried here.)

You tug down a leather-bound book from a shelf, eye-level (still), and rub dust off the spine. Over the cover is embossed some type of Fontainisian design, swirls of gold concentric circles and feathering blots of blue and purple over the leather. It was a gift, back then. Something artisanal that a craftsperson brought to Mond’s market— One of the many gifts Crepus gave to you in the months before his passing.

You curse under your breath, pressing your fingertips in the cover. There’s a ring of teeth marks on one corner— your teeth. Had you really bitten the cover in a fit of frustration?

(Probably. Your memory feels fuzzy and fragmented. Broken glass— you can’t pick them up without risking slicing your hand wide and bloody.)

A door shuts, a heavy one, somewhere else in the manor. Diluc has returned. Part of you itches to seek him out, survey him for injuries and help where you can. It takes you nothing to stitch and sew him up. Healing a wound for Diluc feels like a twisted debt paid, maybe. He isn’t aware of it.

Being in the Small Study makes you horribly aware of it.

The pages of your old journal feel brittle and dry against your fingers. Some stick together, even now, with dried ink that you spilled over the pages. Some of the script is illegible, your pen having muddled into something beyond understanding. What you are able to read, you try not to absorb. It’s only morbid curiosity that has you peeking at it, at all.

(You should probably burn the thing. It has far too many secrets written in it.)

Diluc calls your name from the door, and you freeze. The journal is easily tucked back in place.

“Yes?” You don’t look at him, but twirl on your heel to the middle of the room. As if you should be there.

(Maybe you should be, for him. All you are is a relic to him, maybe. Something from the past that should stay that way. Aren’t you just a skeletal remain?)

(The thought persists.)

“What are you doing in here?” Diluc asks, lacking any edge. He rests his hip on the long table.

You consider the question, mull over it and roll your answer around on your tongue.

“Reminiscing, I guess,” you say, it’s too late to be dishonest. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“That seems to be a pattern.”

“Reminiscing?”

“I meant your inability to sleep through the night.” Diluc sees through your diversion. You let him, cow your barely there instinct to fight him.

You sigh and laugh, weak, “I suppose.”

Diluc’s gaze is on you— you can feel it. You kick at the floorboards, counting the swirls and irregular notches. It’s easy to imagine the look he must be wearing. Pity, maybe. You feel like a stray cat, cornered and hungry, but ever-wary.

“May I ask why?”

You click your tongue, “Guess, and if you’re right, I’ll tell you.”

“Isn’t it a bit late for a game like this?”

“Call me a night owl.” You clamor on top of the table and sit semi-cross-legged, with your injured ankle extended.

“... Your injury?” Diluc asks.

You shake your head.

“... You always ran cooler. Are you cold?”

“Maybe a bit, but not really.”

Diluc stalls, and you can see him sort out the correct answer. He’s known it since the beginning of this conversation, but you’re both so fluent in denial, you might as well dance together in it for a while.

“Dreams?”

You nod.

Diluc opens his pretty, petal lips to speak, then thinks better of it. Instead, he removes his jacket and lays it over his arm. You expect him to prod you.

“Would you like some tea?” Diluc asks. “It may settle you, allow you a proper rest.”

Tea sounds nice, you think. Something warm and someone warm. You know better than to walk so close to him when you’re so shredded at the ribs and tummy. Vulnerable. You know better.

(Then why is the idea of closeness with him so intoxicating? You don’t care about the potential consequences, not really. Your tangle of emotions feels superseded by desire, and you’re barely holding onto self-control.)

(Archons, you want to let go, just a little.)

The threads loosen, just a fraction.

“I’ll take tea,” you admit. “I think there’s some of the sweet bread rounds left too.”

When you look up, Diluc has a simple smile painting the edges of his lips. It’s small, nearly uncatchable, but you recognize it immediately. You resist the urge to go to him and press into the dimple that carves his right cheek.

It’s awful, the way your heart seizes in your chest, nearly breaking you down your center. You twin him with your own smile, a small one— lest you burst in the middle of the Small Study.

(Where everything began to fall apart.)

(Forget, forget, forget.)

...

You both sip cups of tea and pass a packed, cherrywood pipe back and forth on Diluc’s balcony. It’s sizable, enough room for you to curl up against the railing, far enough from Diluc to not feel crowded, but still accept the pipe each time he passes it to you. The tobacco smoke feels thick and rich in your mouth, and you resist the urge to draw it too far back into your throat. You instead distract yourself with the smoke that lazily curls from your lips with each exhale.

(You catch Diluc entranced by it as well, the way your lips fall open.)

The sky feels starless; heavy clouds cover the cosmos low. You imagine it’ll rain again in the next few days, especially with the ache in your injury. The air bears down on you, just like the clouds do. You crave a moon or single star to fixate on, rather than proximity or the inevitability of an interaction.

You’ve become truly versed in avoidance.

Diluc looks... perplexed. Perhaps lighter than he did in the study. His shoulders sag more than they did before, and he almost looks to be melting into the chair he sits in. His heavy coat had been left behind in his room as you passed through, leaving him more bare. You can see blood seep up from flesh wounds, staining the white of his shirt, but he’d already brushed off your concern that evening. You didn’t have it in you to fight him on it— you vow to patch him up in the morning if you can catch him before he starts his daily business.

You must, really.

The quirk between his brows bothers you. The draw of his lips and the way he’s purely staring at you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You frown. Prodding seems like a bad idea, given your exhaustion and the maw that’s cracked open between your ribs.

Diluc seems to stare harder. If that is possible. He sits before, elbows on his knees, and folds his hands. Covers his mouth with them. They’re thick and worn, unfamiliar to you. You can’t stop looking at them. You recall him having beautiful pianist’s hands, slender and sure-fingered. It’s easier to fixate on some trivial, physical difference rather than his expression. It’s verging on vulnerable. He withdraws to take a drag.

“I don’t know how to put you together,” Diluc admits. He snaps his teeth around the smoke.

You tilt your head quizzically.

Diluc chews on his words, looks at you, and then away. He takes another draw from the pipe and sighs. “You confuse me. You never used to confuse me.”

There’s a pressure behind your eyes that wasn’t there before. “How do I confuse you now?”

Diluc exhales. He smells like fresh smoke, ash, and the heat from a flame. And he looks at you and his gaze is soft. The pull of his lip and brow, the shine to his eyes— he looks hopelessly fond and sad. Heartbroken, even. There’s a smear of soot under his eye and you resist the buried impulse to wipe it away as something in your cracks. Threads snap.

“I’m not sure I know you anymore.”

(It hurts, it hurts, it hurts to hear— no one knew you better than Diluc. You’ve made yourself a stranger, and you must now reap what you’ve sewn. You’re just a vagrant in his home, fit for healing and burden and nothing more—)

Your eyes burn and you tear your gaze to the fields, “What a surprise. It’s not as if I’ve been around for your to be familiar with.”

“I understand why you left Mondstadt,” Diluc tells you, hushed like he is speaking to a frightened cat. Maybe that’s what you are. “I know it must’ve been very lonely.”

You almost snap at him. You almost scream—

(“I hate you! I hate you! I hate you for knowing me and knowing how I felt and being gone and leaving me here to ache all alone. I hate that you know me so well and forgot.”)

You don’t.

“I had Elzer and Adelinde,” you say. “Dawn Winery was hardly empty. I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity.” Diluc doesn’t sound offended. “Never pity.”

“Sure.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“Not entirely.” You wish the stars were out. You’d have something tangible to direct your ire toward. “What else would it be?”

Diluc sighs, not resigned, but you can hear the exhaustion in it. He’s wounded, he needs rest. You both do.

(You both need so much rest.)

Your nose burns and you sniffle.

“I still care for you, even if you are unfamiliar to me.” He says quietly, low, sweet, and gentle because it's only meant for the two of you to hear.

You meet his gaze violently. Your neck nearly snaps turning to him, and you have to bite your bottom lip to keep from crying. You feel fragile, so close to crumbling.

“Don’t toy with me.” Your voice wobbles, your conviction does not.

“I’m not.” He assures you. “I wouldn’t.”

“You’re a wretched man.” You tell him. There’s no bite to your words.

“For you, I’d be better.”

“No— that’s—” You rub your eyes. “ Stop it.”

“Stop what? I’m not sure I can.”

(You don’t say: “Please stop being so kind. If you keep being kind to me, I’ll never leave. I’ll take every scrap you feed me and pretend it makes me a king. I’ll open myself up for heartbreak to be by your side. If you keep being kind to me—”)

(You don’t say: “I’ll think that you love me still.”)

Diluc cups your jaw and says your name, soft and slow and easy.

You’re sedated, because Diluc looks just as frightened as you feel, and speaks as earnestly as he did when he was young. When you used to lay over his chest and count the summer freckles he was blessed with. When he used to hold your cheeks, pressing your lips together, overzealous and honest, like how young lovers do. Like the young lovers you were.

Would this be easier, if you really were two strangers, sharing a pipe and tea? If there really was an ocean and deep sea more than changes of appearance or the way you hold yourself. You know it’s you— that you’ve changed since Diluc saw you. Last saw you— the day of his eighteenth birthday—

The feeling in your chest is violent. Shreds you. Tears you open. You ball the fabric of your sleep clothes in your fist, over your heart, and almost wince.

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing you think to say. You don’t know what you’re apologizing for.

“Don’t apologize, you’ve done nothing wrong.” He rubs a thumb over your cheek, and his touch and voice tremble.

“What if I have?” you half-admit, flashing him a withered smile.

(Forget, forget, forget.)

(A red stone like the garnet they tug out of the Chasm’s walls. Rounded. Pulsing. In the left palm of a man who could’ve been your father.)

“Then, I’ll help you fix it if you like.” He can’t. Diluc lets go of you, only to stand and fix a hold on your wrist.

“It’s not that simple.” You’re already saying too much. Forget, forget, forget. Shove it down into your chest, to the back of your mind.

You remain sitting on the cold ground of the balcony. Your leg remains splayed on the cobblestones, splinted and aching. You can’t bear to look up at him. You want to cry. Maybe, in the daylight, past dawn— you’d be better at facing this. You want tea. You want to sleep. You want to weep—

(into Diluc’s lap. To beg him for things that feel unfair to ask.)

“Why did you ask me to have tea with you?” you ask. “If it was to share smoke and try to have this conversation or two when we’re both clearly”— you gesture to yourself, balled up, and Diluc, bloodied— “not our best, I will retire to my room. I don’t want to... I can’t broach this.”

(“Yet.”)

(It’s inevitable, isn’t it? One you feel in the stars, rushing toward you.)

“It was never my intention to push you.” Diluc rushes to assure you. You look out the pitch-black vineyard, and Diluc kneels in front of you. “I didn’t—”

You snap, voice wobbling, “What do you want—?”

“I want to know you again,” Diluc tells you, confesses, breathlessly. He sounds like a (your) lover again. “I want nothing more. Just let me, please.”

(You haven’t heard Diluc beg in so long. You remember how he’d beg you for the extra candies that Teacher would give you after lessons. Diluc would beg you to trace shapes on his arm and the nape of his neck when you’d stay up whispering to each other during Mond’s cruelest winter nights. He’d plead for you to ride on his horse, with him, rather than your own.)

You squirm under your skin and refuse to look at him. If you do, you’ll shatter. You have to hold it together, just a little longer— until the end of Windblume, then you’ll leave, you’ll fucking run—

And Diluc says your name, begs you, “Look at me, please.”

“If I do, I’ll cry.” Your voice wobbles far more than you thought it would.

“That’s okay.”

“It’s not—” You laugh, and barely look at him out of the corner of your eyes. “I can’t start crying, Diluc. I’ll never stop.”

“That’s alright.” Diluc sounds like he might cry. “I’ll take you, however you are.”

He sounds romantic.

You look at him.

He looks soggy— wilted, like the way two-day-old cut flowers do. Still beautiful, because Diluc Ragnvindr is nothing if not attractive. Hair spilling down his shoulders, a fresh scrape over his cheek, eyes that crinkle in between because he looks as gutted as you feel.

And you laugh, something weak and small and feeble. A barely there noise you only let out to distract from the tears that wet your bottom lashes.

“... What do you want to know?” you ask him. Forcing yourself to settle, bear it, and look at him.

Diluc’s eyes go wide. The barest hints of joy squeeze the skin around his eyes and you see a boyish smile on his lips you’d forgotten he knew how to wear. You want to kiss it, him, because the feeling in your chest is bursting. The craving, need— to kiss him stupid and share it with him is overwhelming.

“Everything.”

You’re damned, surely.

“I don’t think I can give you that yet,” you tell him, honestly. “I’m still mad at you.”

“That’s alright,” he placates you. “I want to know about that, too. Anything you’ll give me.”

It’s an awful admission, really. That he cares to know you.

(Some part of you, festered for so long. Convinced yourself of untrue things because it was easier than facing an uncertain reality. The mere idea of Diluc caring for you breaks a small delusion that you wouldn’t be welcomed. That the boy you’d love and linked pinkies with was dead and gone far from you.)

(He’s here, right in front of you.)

You shift forward without thinking. Onto your knees, with your injured side limp, and you press your forehead into Diluc’s shoulder. It’s stiff, with your arms still tucked to your center, protecting your most soft and vulnerable bits. It’s all you can give him.

Diluc turns tense, then slack, so slack, like he’s been doused in warm water and left to dry in midday sun. You feel the muscle against your cheek go limp and you press your eyes into the smokey fabric. It dampens beneath you and you’re too tired to care.

(You’re being chipped down— It was inevitable, wasn’t it? Returning to Mond meant this. Part of you always knew that.)

His hand cups the back of your skull and you shiver with it. Warm and big, just like he has become with the years. He presses his thumb and ring finger into your scalp, scratching, and something between a sob and a wince gets caught in your throat.

“Is this alright?” Diluc asks.

“More than.” You keep yourself from weeping on him, barely. Instead, you grip the loose fabric against his chest and smother yourself in him.

...

There’s a part of you that you can’t quiet— the fragment that whispers and thrashes “this is an awful idea” and “stop it, before you get sucked so deep into him that you can’t climb out.” It’s the part of you that keeps your arms wrapped around your middle and only lets you drag your lips over Diluc’s throat without rhyme or reason. It’s mindless, never a kiss, because that would cross an invisible gulf you dare not to breach.

Diluc leads you inside, hand in hand. You wonder if he can feel how you’re shaking, beginning to fracture from the inside out. You already have been. You’re pouring out from your seams.

“I’m going to fetch more tea, I’ll be back in a moment.” Diluc steps toward the door and a bolt of panic shoots through you. It hurts, physical, dread-filled pain that has you stumble up, toward him, reaching out desperately for him.

(“Please don’t go, please don’t go, please don’t go. Not again.”)

You grab his sleeve and ball your fist in the fabric.

Diluc attempts to placate you. “Rest, it’s alright. I’m just going to the kitchens.”

You say nothing and tug him tighter. Closer.

(Part of you wants to kick Diluc away and lock the door behind him. There’s another that wants you to fall to your knees, and beg him to stay close. He’s given you a morsel and you should know better than to roll over for scraps but—)

(You’re so scared. So scared you’ll lose his heat all over again.

You listen to the latter part as you drop to your knees in front of Diluc, just steps into his bedroom.

You’re not sure what possesses you—

(You do. You’re distracting Diluc from whatever sticky, honeyed thoughts he is having by replacing them with something more carnal. Physicality is just that— physical. Tangible and touchable and far easier to fixate on the immaterial.)

(... Right?)

Diluc breathes your name, wide-eyed as you brace your palms on his thighs. You can feel how tense he is. The thick rug against the floor cushions your knees.

“What are you doing?” His voice is small.

“I want to make you feel good.” You ask, running your hands up to his waistband and begin to untuck his dirtied shirt, “May I?”

Diluc gives you a look. It’s all apprehension and worry, creasing the lines of his pretty face. He works his jaw as you toy with the leather of his belt.

(You understand it, really.)

(You don’t like the look he gives you, but you don’t know which one you’d rather see him wear. Hatred would perhaps be better. Desire would be the worst.)

(Diluc had always been the sure-footed one. Confident, but never cocky or boisterous. Even in the ways you’ve seen him now, he’s been firm and familiarly stubborn. But, at the sight of you below him, offering, he’s creased over in apprehension.)

Diluc gives you an almost imperceptible nod and tucks his bottom lip between his teeth. You smother your smile into the fabric of his trousers before palming him. He’s soft, though hardening under the layers of fabric. Your hands tremble as you undo his belt— maybe they’re going numb at your fingertips. It’s hard to tell.

It’s easier to pull Diluc’s cock free and stroke idly. You flash him a smile, you don’t know how real it looks.

(You love him.)

He is pretty. It’s not the first time you’ve seen his cock— hardly, but it’s been so long and his body is in so many ways unrecognizable. Even from the sliver of skin visible at his waistline, he has scars. Thick and thin, burns— he’s decorated in them.

(You wonder how many you could’ve prevented.)

The thought rots something in you and your hands tremble.

His cock though— his dick, that’s what you’re focused on. You fixate on the head of him, half-hard, pitching forward to press a kiss to him. Diluc makes an unholy, high noise, and you latch on to the sound of it. You lap at his slit and savor any pearls of precum that you taste.

Pulling away, you spit into your hand, and stroke the length of him. Your ears are ringing.

You look up at him, neck aching, and push the bottom of his shirt up. “You should hold this between your teeth, hm?”

Diluc’s almost trembling, shaking as he nods and puts the hem of the shirt between his teeth. It’s compromising, surely. He’s suddenly so bare, and you’re on his floor, clothed. Mostly. Your robe is slipping, revealing bare shoulders and an unblemished collar. You’re sure it’s doing something to him. It has to, you hope it does.

You stall as he bares his chest to you.

(So many wounds, healed and sealed. Most of these are new. Even with his battle prowess— what has he been doing to himself? To be so battered must mean that he put himself in harm’s way, above his abilities. Or face a foe he hadn’t expected.)

You tremble.

You purse your lips and flatten your tongue. The taste of him is distracting, pleasantly. It’s more musk than smoke, all him in a way that makes you swallow him down more. One of his hands hesitantly rests against the side of your head. He doesn’t push or shove you. The contact is so light, it almost feels like he’s hovering rather than making contact.

(Is he in pain? Does he have old wounds, like yours, that he’s just better at hiding? He was always the type to suffer in silence. Diluc wouldn’t tell you if he was hurting, would he? You’d only been able to goad him into letting you heal him when he was clearly returning home from a brawl, blood-stained, or both.)

You hum around his length and dig your fingertips into his thighs. Corded muscle covered by a layer of fat. Your mouth waters at the thought of taking a bite of him.

(You know he bruises easily.)

It’s hard to breathe— you hadn’t realized Diluc’s size when you endeavored to suck his cock, but you’re feeling it now. You bully him further down, forcing yourself to relax until the head of his cock nudges the back of your throat.

Diluc says your name so breathlessly, pinched around the edges. Your eyes stay shut and you anchor yourself on sensation. The heat of Diluc, radiating into you from the inside, the desperate way he breathes through his teeth and the shirt tucked between them. You hum around him and relish the choked sound that he can’t hold back.

(Like this, whatever is simmering under your skin and behind your eyes feels duller. You can chase sensation, grip it so hard it hurts, and bring pleasure at the same time. Isn’t this—)

You begin to bob your head, shallow, once, twice, and then a third time— And with a broken-sounding groan, Diluc comes down your throat.

It’s fast. It’s unexpected. The only warning you had was the way Diluc’s hand tightened around your skull, not pushing, but firm. Your eyes stretch wide as you try to swallow his release. It’s— a lot, more than you expect, and it spills from the corners of your mouth. Diluc jerks his hips, clearly involuntary, and you properly choke on him.

And then he pulls out of your mouth, dripping and sticky and softening, and you hang your head, swallowing thickly and coughing. The ringing in your ears is worse, and the world feels far away. Even Diluc’s heat feels lukewarm. It’s not peace, nor unsettling, something in the middle that is more unpleasant than pleasant. It’s hard to focus.

It’s easier, when Diluc goes to his knees next to you. He’s hastily tucked his cock away, belt still unbuckled. There’s dirt and singed fabric on his knees— you still haven’t checked his injuries. Foolish.

You reach out a hand (are you really shaking that hard?), Dendro curling around your fingers. Diluc catches your wrist and holds it steady.

The ringing in your ears clears enough to hear him say your name. It’s hard to register. You send the Dendro through his wrist instead— how many fractures has he had on that bone? The scar tissue—

Diluc says your name once more, more sharply, more worried— and he cups your jaw and tilts your face up to his.

“Oh,” you reply softly. Your voice is wrecked. “Hi.”

“Hello.” Diluc’s brow is creased, relief bleeding in his voice. “Are you—”

“I’m fine.” You pat his hand that’s on your jaw. “Peachy. You taste good.”

It’s fun to watch Diluc flush even more— he always has always blushed easily. It spreads down his neck and up to his ears. You mindlessly lay the back of your free hand over the cheek to feel how warm he is. Burning. You swear he’ll scorch you alive.

“I don’t—” Diluc shakes his head, rubbing at your cheeks. It’s intimate. If your ears weren’t ringing, you’d be on the other side of the room by now. Maybe Mond. Maybe Teyvat.

“What’s wrong?” you ask him. You feel breakable beneath your haze. “Is something wrong?”

Diluc looks at you. Really looks at you. Though you look back at him, the world is too fuzzy to take account of details.

(If you could, you’d see concern. Wretched, awful concern and care that he has kept tucked so far away from you since you’ve returned. You closed the distance so swiftly between the two of you, violently, and Diluc is split wide with it.)

“You’re—” Diluc presses a finger down to your pulse point. “Your heart’s beating so fast.”

“Uh-huh.” You nod. “I couldn’t breathe for a moment there.”

“That’s not it.” Diluc counters you, but doesn’t argue. Instead, he strokes over your cheeks, conflicted.

You reach out without thinking and tug the black ribbon from his hair. It spills over his shoulders— the waves are a mess. You see snarls and soot. Maybe even chunks burned together.

“Can I brush your hair?” You ask, running a hand through it and grimacing as your fingers get caught. “No, I should wash it first.”

“No,” Diluc says sharply. It startles you enough that you jump. It makes him wilt even more. “You won’t.”

“But I can—?”

“That doesn’t mean you should,” Diluc says softly, squeezing your shoulder.

Diluc has been so incredibly tentative, almost unsure, about any sort of physical contact with you prior. But, in this moment, he’s so sure.

He presses his lips to your forehead, firm and unyielding. It’s so warm— like a hearth that’s always been lit and rolling. High enough to cook a pot over but not enough to burn you down. You’d forgotten this part of his heat.

(How could you?)

“Indulge me?” he asks, lips soft against your skin.

“... In what way?”

“Sleep in my bed,” he says softly. “With me.”

You frown. “You don’t need to return the gesture.”

“That’s not why I’m asking.” Diluc pulls away and presses his lips to your wrist instead. He must be able to feel your pulse.

You consider.

(You’re not within yourself. You’re floating; it’s not his fault. Circumstance and sleeplessness and the horror of intimacy do such things, you know. It’s a tempting offer when Diluc’s heat is so comforting.)

(When he is so comforting.)

“Are you sure?” you ask.

Diluc nods. “More than.”

(Is it really greed, if he invites you?)

“Okay.”

Diluc makes you tea. Scenes seem to skip before your eyes. One moment, Diluc is gone, then in the en suite bathroom, then beside you with a warm cup. The order of these events changes the longer you think about it.

The tea grows colder in your hands and Diluc coaxes you to drink it.

He’s thrown on some soft linen sleep clothes. You get distracted by the obscenely deep-v of the cut, and it takes Diluc repeating your name a few more times to bring you back, closer to the present moment.

Exhaustion catches you quickly once you’re horizontal. It’s easier to fall into and accept when you’re surrounded by the smell of Diluc and his heat. Him. It’s too daunting to touch him fully like this, but you face him when you lie down. You both grab the other’s hand, and squeeze in tandem.

“Is this alright?” he asks.

You nod, burying your nose in the sheets. “Yeah. Was earlier bad?”

“No,” Diluc says quickly. It’s too dark with the candles blown out, but you imagine him blushing. “Strange, maybe, but not bad. I didn’t expect it. I would prefer some notice, if you’re going to proposition me again.”

There’s something left unsaid after, but you can’t make yourself pry.

You’re so whittled down, really. You’re just bones and cracking flesh and tears burgeoning before falling. The idea of sharing a big, warm bed with Diluc, despite everything unresolved and open and festering, breaks something in you.

(You’ve been so hungry. Starved. Emaciated and just fucking dealing with it. And now you’re offered a feast on a platter and you’re horribly loyal, at your core.)

“I don’t share beds often.” A memory bubbles up to the surface.

Diluc plays with your hair, scratching at your scalp, motions nearly scalding and circular. “It doesn’t seem like you’ve kept much company on your travels.”

“Only a few times.” A melancholy smile twists your lips. A memory drags you down from floating. “I was engaged, once, you know.”

Maybe it’s cruel to say, and part of you revels in the way Diluc squeezes your hand so tightly it almost hurts. “... You were?”

“Yes.”

“Betrothed?”

“Yeah.” You smother a laugh into the buttery sheets. “She was a healer in Fontaine. We met when I stayed in her village to tend to victims of a fungal plague. She asked me to marry her after I’d stayed with her for a while.”

“But, you didn’t go through with it?” Diluc's voice sounds tight. Or, you’re imagining it.

“No.” You bring your legs up, curling around yourself. “I couldn’t. I called things off a few weeks before the wedding.”

“Why?”

You think, think— because it’s been a long time, and the memory has become scattered. The face of the woman who was almost your wife is nearly gone in your memory. You remember the sound of her laugh, the color of her hair, and the way her home smelled when she burned her favorite candles. But— but—

“I couldn’t do it.” You feel withered. “She treated me so well. I could have lived well. The village cared for me and it would’ve been a kind life.”

You choke on the sound of your own laughter. Morose. You wrap your arms around Diluc’s one, burying your face in his bicep like it’ll take the burning away from your chest.

“... Why couldn’t you?” he asks.

(Because it wasn’t here. It wasn’t him.)

“You know, at the Akademiya, there’s a whole Darshan dedicated to studying stars and the alignment of the cosmos.” You tangle a leg with Diluc’s. You’ll give him this much, another admission. “They say that fate’s written up there— for all of us.”

Diluc pulls you closer, under your thighs, slotting you together. It’s like you were made to be that way.

“I guess Celestia didn’t deign for me to stay in that village forever and get married.” You ache, all over.

(But the stars did bring you back here. To Mond. To him.)

Diluc’s breath catches. He holds you tighter.

“They took you away too, though.” You curl the fabric of his shirt in your chest, over his heart. Like you could rip it out— (just like how he ripped out yours.) “ You left. Chasing something, right?”

And you throw your head back and laugh. You turn away from Diluc, something rotten bringing you back into yourself. Not memories, but dread and panic (forget, forget, forget.) You hate the feeling. You shove your face into the sheets and savor the feeling of it. The smell and the heat that you’re sure will be ripped away from you. It’s Diluc’s scent. Cecilia and oat soap and stale cologne. You indulge.

“You said you hate me.” Diluc’s voice is close. You lay on your stomach, twisted at the hips, and Diluc looms over you. His hands bunch in the sheets on either side of your shoulders.

“I do, at least a little,” you admit, awful, wretched— “Maybe a lot.”

(As much as you love him.)

“You have every reason to.”

“So you keep reminding me.”

“I don’t regret it.”

It burns to hear. “I wouldn’t expect you to. A chance to play knight— hero?”

“Did you expect me to not do anything?”

“I expected you to at least say goodbye—!” You turn, sharp, and spit the words in his face even as your voice breaks. He’s closer than you thought, hovering so that you’re nose to nose.

A few tears slip, dripping down to your hairline. It takes every last shred and thread holding you together to keep from shattering. Diluc looks like he’s been slapped, shiny ruby eyes polished. Candlelight flickers in them, flame on flame.

You bite your tongue until you taste blood. Because, Archons, if you say anything else, you’ll regret it.

“I’m sor—”

“Tell me in the morning,” you cut him off with a smile, one that makes him frown. “Please?”

And Diluc is nothing, if not weak for you.

It’s an easy shift, for him to drag you to the center of the bed, close to his chest, and pull the duvet over the two of you.

When Diluc presses you, front to front, with your head wedged under his chin, he says soft and breaking, “You worry me.”

You nearly laugh again. “Don’t.”

He just squeezes you, hard enough that you might break.

(You feel like you’re going to shatter. You don’t know if you’re ready.)

#lore writes #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader #diluc x you #diluc reader insert #genshin impact x reader #enjoy enjoy ENJOY!!!!!#AH it's so exciting to get to post more!! and a lil nerve-wracking but asdflkj #please enjoy <3 and feel free to leave predictions or feedback if you'd like too!!

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rafs13 · 9 months

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Gojohime/Gouta fanfic

Here’s a k pop inspired fanfic idea of gojohime for anyone who’s interested. I’ve had it in my mind for a while now.

It’s called Sweet Debauchery.

It will include be a reverse harem romance where a lot of the characters are pinning for Utahime giving Gojo competition It’s slow burn, fluff, flirting, loss of innocence, angst, kissing etc in chapters to come.

Summary:

Sweet Debauchery is the newest hottest sensation in Japan, a boy band that has taken the world by storm. The billion-dollar group consists of 6 members who have the world to their name with riches and fame. Gojo Satoru is known as the Face of the group with his infamous nickname ‘’Baby Blue’’, known for charming ladies, wooing, and breaking hearts. He lives on the edge, on the high and fast life fueled by exhilaration, however, everything changes when he accidentally comes across paths with a lady named Lori Utahime. A poor lady with humble ambitions to become a professional baseball player ends up applying for a job as a personal assistant for the group to save up and fund her dreams.

Here’s the prologue

Prologue -D Day

Sunset had peaked at its zenith, and the sky shined a blood-red orange with dark hues creeping in. It was the eve of summer in the year 2020. After 7 years of tremendous preparation, 1 million auditions, and vigorous training, JJK Records, Tokyo’s most prestigious record label finalized their first official boy band. The idea to debut a new boy band came to fruition in 2013 when the boom of boy bands rose again in Japan. Before that year the interest in boy groups from Japan had declined with the Japanese audience as international groups (specifically in the States) dominated the music charts. However, a shift occurred in 2013 when a Japanese solo artist from JJK records named ZER0, debuted with his hit song ‘’Lost In Paradise’’ which charted number 1 on the Billboard Charts and went viral worldwide. The world was now interested in new talent found in the depths of Japan, it was a new world for a new audience to discover with curiosity. The culture and spin on music were fresh and unexplored territory.

This wave of change was dubbed ‘’The New Gen’’.

‘’Are you all okay with the conditions?’’

Six contracts were placed on a sleek metallic table in a horizontal line, all printed and ready to sign by the six young men standing before two male figures. The six young men all were found muttering to themselves in a small circle as minutes before they had, had the time to look over the contracts. The most they did was skim through the first couple of pages as the excitement to debut was too hard to contain. Behind the two men was a huge widespread fine glass-tinted window giving a view of Tokyo at sunset. It was a Friday so traffic, city lights, fumes, and people were buzzing on the scene. The city chaos outside was a huge contrast to what was going on. The six young men were in the office of the CEO of JJK Records, being offered to sign with the company as a six-membered group. Each contract presented to the group is seven hundred and three pages long, but out of all the pages, page seven clause three point one is the most important. This page included a list typed out in thick red capitalized words that stated the following:

The Ten Unbreachable Rules

1. NO DATING. AS A SIGNED AND ACTIVE MEMBER OF JJK RECORDS, YOU MUST NOT DATE. THIS ALSO INCLUDES SEXUAL INTERCOURSE WITH ANYONE, ESPECIALLY A FAN. THIS IS NON-NEGOTIABLE.

2.ALL UNRELEASED/RELEASED WRITTEN SONGS/MATERIAL, INSTRUMENTALS, REMIXES, AND COLLABS THAT ARE RELEASED UNDER JJK RECORDS OR BY ANY SIGNED ARTIST UNDER JJK RECORDS WILL BE COPYRIGHTED TO THE COMPANY. THEREFORE 100 PERCENT OF THE RESIDUALS/ROYALTIES WILL BE SUPPLIED TO THE COMPANY

3.50 PERCENT OF ANY MUSIC SALES MADE FROM THIRD-PARTY BRAND DEALS WILL BE GIVEN TO JJK RECORDS

4.ALL SIGNED JJK RECORD ARTISTS WILL BE ASSIGNED A WORK SCHEDULE REGARDING THE YEAR. OUT OF THE 365 DAYS IN A YEAR, EACH ARTIST WILL GET 1 MONTH OFF, ZERO SICK DAYS, AND MUST WORK OVERTIME/ON WEEKENDS

5.THE NAME, BRAND, MUSIC, AND IDENTITY OF YOUR ASSIGNED GROUP AND GROUP MEMBERS ALL BELONG TO JJK RECORDS

6.A LOAN OF ¥300,000,000 WILL BE PAID IN ADVANCE AS A NEW ARTIST. THIS MUST BE PAID BACK A YEAR AFTER THE DEBUT THROUGH SALES.

7.ALL SIGNED ARTISTS UNDER JJK RECORDS CONTRACTS ARE ACTIVE FOR 7 YEARS WITH THE OPTION TO RESIGN ONCE THE 7 YEARS COMPLETE.

8.STRICT DIETING MUST BE INCORPORATED INTO THE EVERYDAY LIFESTYLE

9.STRICT DECORUM AND PROFESSIONALISM MUST BE KEPT AT WORK, PUBLIC EVENTS, CONCERTS, FANSIGNINGS, AND ALL PUBLIC APPEARANCES. NO DRINKING PUBLICALLY, NO CRIMINAL/ILLEGAL ACTIVITY SUCH AS DRUGS, GANG/YAKUZA ACTIVITY, OR USE OF GUNS/KNIVES & INAPPROPRIATE ACTIVITY SHOULD BE ENGAGED IN

10.IF AT ANY TIME ONE OF THESE RULES IS BREACHED THIS CONTRACT WILL BE CEASED AND VOID

‘’Think carefully. Once the ink is dry you’ll belong to us.’’ joked the older male playfully, the man looked ancient as if he had passed his life limit spotting sunken eyes that were hollow you could barely see through them, due to being cast over by thick black shadow. The elder was sat down hunched in his chair with his slender weak hands resting on the table for support. This man was named Yoshinobu Gakuganji who owned JJK Records, he was notorious in the music business for making dreams come true for up-and-coming artists. Gakuganji made stars such as platinum two-time seller Mei Mei, a ballad/soul singer who debuted last year and is now gaining international fans. Teen pop sensation Momo also busted onto the scene debuting earlier that year in 2020, but has been actively promoting in Korea & Thailand outside of Japan. Plus Gakuganji hit it big with ZER0 which gave him huge credentials for his record label to the point that American labels are looking to do business with JJK Records in a partnership.

Gakuganji smiled at the view of the six young men speaking upon themselves, despite doing so he already knew they would accept the offer. These young men were desperate to debut, it was too easy for him to know that as they wouldn’t have trained for so long to debut. It made it easier for him to set his traps…

Aside from Gakuganji the other man now stood up placing a hand on his hip and waiting for an answer, in contrast to Gakuganji this man was middle-aged, presumably in his late 30s, and was bulky in stature with tanned sun-kissed skin. The man wore black thick shades of sunglasses, spotted a spiky dark brown undercut, and was clad in dark purple shiny clothing. His name is Masamichi Yaga, he is currently the CEO of JJK Records, he specifically is responsible for scouting potential trainees, all auditions that take place to select trainees, and the whole training process. He would drop trainees like flies if he believes they are too lazy, weak-minded, and fail to progress/improve. For one to make it to debut is a testimony itself, because the training period is madly chaotic and built for the Marines.

The fact that literally 10-year-olds are trainees is astonishing as it can make (lead to debut) or break (become cut after years of sacrifice to train) a person. Both sides of the coin are tainted.

‘’So…do we have a deal?’’ Yaga spoke up, and the group split quickly after hearing Yaga’s voice. The names of the six young men were as follows: Kento Nanami, Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Ryomen Sukuna, Toji Zenin, and lastly Choso Kamo.

The first to get scouted and join the company as a trainee was Toji at the age of 15 years old. He originally got scouted to be a child actor under the acting division of JJK Records after a talent scout saw him and thought he would make a good child villain in a TV show. But he was a terrible actor, he could never remember his lines and later got transferred over to train after showing promising skills in rapping. By blood, Toji is a part of the Zenin Clan, one of the most prestigious families in Tokyo known for being elite in talent. Every member was exceptional in something and had built an empire. Still, Toji was VERY average and couldn’t make a name or make a living for himself independently leaving him banished from his family. As a member of the Zenin Clan, Toji inherited the family's good looks with raven dark hair and spiky tussled bangs, emerald shiny tinted eyes, and a lean long muscular build, but was still seen as average to his family in terms of their standards. But Toji still had a huge share of female admirers from girls to women. He trained for 10 years, working normal odd jobs to get by while he trained watching other trainees debut before him left him bitter and filled with jealousy. Despite his hardships, Toji learned how to pull on his strengths, being born with a lot of strength in his bones and body, he used that ability to hone in on acrobatic skills. This was a skill no one else had which kept him from being cut as a trainee and eventually led to his debut at 25 years old being the oldest member.

Toji was extremely jealous of Gojo Satoru though, even though he had come to like him after training with him for some time, Gojo had trained for 6 months and was chosen to debut so fast. Gojo Satoru was the golden boy, the be-all and do-all, the Ace who could do almost everything well without much effort. Dancing, singing, performing, you name it. Like a Chameleon Gojo could copy, rinse, and repeat anything taught to him. His brain works at an advanced level and his eyes can scan and picture anything he sees just like a camera. Many things about Gojo made everyone fond of him, he dripped charisma and charm without even trying, and his undeniable aura drew whoever was around him to him like a magnet. Guys wanted to be his friend and be him, girls wanted to date him, and old women wanted their daughters to marry him for him to become their son-in-law. At 6 feet 5, with messy silver-white hair undercut, and cerulean crystal orbs of blue eyes that looked like an image of the sky trapped in time, it was very easy to fall for him or be jealous of him.

One look at his baby blue eyes and dreamy lopsided smile was enough for any girl to be under his love spell. Let's just say his rizz is insane. The world was at Gojo’s fingertips and he loved it, he was ready for the fun of the music world, and choosing this life meant he was free from his family’s rules. Like Toji, Gojo was from a wealthy family/clan, but he decided to pursue a music career to gain independence, so getting a shot at living the high life as a celebrity didn’t hurt.

Gojo was hungry for it and would devour every part of the experience.

Nothing would bring him down.

Gojo accidentally got scouted after his best friend Suguru Geto got scouted at the mall for an audition at JJK Records. Geto had told Gojo about being scouted and was convinced by his other best friend Leiri Shoko to do the audition as she saw the huge opportunity Geto had. Geto only agreed after Shoko asked him to do it because he had a huge fat crush on her then. All 3 of them went to Geto’s audition, Geto and Gojo saw it as a fun joke to kill time. But Geto passed his audition with flying colors by singing (never expecting to make it that far), and Gojo was scouted without an audition based on his looks alone. Shoko wasn’t offered anything but was okay with it as she already dreamed of becoming a doctor.

Like Gojo, Geto is exceptional but his strongest traits are singing/songwriting. You see his voice brought liquid gold out of the ears of whoever heard it. His voice is sultry, breathy, and husky in tone, but the control and power over it is strong. Geto could hit high notes like nothing after months of training, his whistles were insane and his voice could go dangerously low to the point that other female trainees could not stand around the guy without falling in love. It didn’t help that he had long long sleek luscious jet-black hair that he loved to tie in a bun or half bun leaving the remaining hair out. Or his attractive androgynous facial features and nose and ear piercings that set the bill. With his lax but sweet charming behavior, Geto was a genuinely nice guy to be around. Geto also trained for six months but truly fell for being a music artist once he saw how his voice moved the room whenever he sang at evaluations/in practice. From then on his dream was to move people with his voice and help others with his songs, he wanted to share his gift with the world. He like Gojo debuted at the age of 23.

Likewise, Kento Nanami shared the same conviction as Geto, using his gifts to help others in the world. Nanami got scouted in a bathroom at a dance competition where he competed and won 1st prize. At the time Nanami was going through an emo B-Boy phase after being tired of dancing at contemporary/ballet competitions and always winning 1st prize. To challenge himself he decided to learn breakdancing for fun in one week and compete, but to his dismay, he was amazing and defeated all the competition. Kento had been dancing ever since he was three years old, he would be what you classify as an abnormal dancer. The art ran through his veins, it was like breathing to him. He mastered tap, jazz, contemporary, ballet, hip-hop, alternative dance, and Afro-fusion, at the age of 13 years old, and mastered breakdancing at 19 where he became a trainee. You see Nanami could have debuted earlier but didn’t because he kept leaving and returning to the company, his training period lasted for 3 years as he took many hiatuses to find his true purpose in life.

Other trainees didn’t have this luxury but Nanami was given the grace because he was simply too good of a dancer to let go. JJK Records even had plans to debut him as a soloist, as he also is an amazing singer but he turned them down because he was still searching to see if dance was his true purpose. Nanami even had a normal job for a while as a stockbroker but found no purpose in that and left. His reason for returning to train at JJK Records was that he danced to cheer up a sad girl at a bakery after she was having a bad day. His dance lifted her mood completely and the light in her eyes returned, that hopeful look she gave was something he drew out with his dancing, and from there on Nanami knew his purpose.

When dancing Nanami’s body flowed like water, moving slowly and smoothly like a pouring stream of water at the riverside. Peaceful and serene. But then he would bring up the tide of the water and go hard with a splash, leaving the audience quenched with thirst for more. Girls couldn’t get enough of him. You could not take your eyes off of him. His hips were a danger zone because the way he could move them was unhuman-like. He was incredible. Nanami's biracial heritage was also another insight that drew him admirers from many female trainees, he is Japanese and Danish and the perfect blend of the two. With a rich champagne blond undercut neatly parted and styled, stunning cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass, a tall build and defined long jawline, warm chocolate brown eyes, and creamy beige skin, you’d think he’d be a model on the page of Vogue (he also declined the chance to model for them years ago). The humble, caring, and honest character traits of Nanami are something Yaga couldn’t let go of regarding this group. He cared for other trainees and was often one to help out a trainee if they were stuck, his best friend Haibara was cut and that devastated him but Nanami told Haibara he would debut for him. Nanami debuted at 22.

The last two members Ryomen Sukuna and Choso Kamo debuted under sad circumstances. Sukuna lived the ghetto life, he was born in the slums of Japan and was involved with the Yakuza from the age of 10 years old. He committed crimes like stealing money from stores, participating in drivebys, and selling drugs on the corners of the streets at night. Despite his struggles, Sukuna would rap to escape it and taught himself how to do so by watching old-school rappers such as 50 Cent, Nas, Tupac, and Notorious B.I.G. He even learned English from studying their videos and watching their interviews over and over again. Rapping and MCing were something that Sukuna could do to express himself and the hardships he was facing, he was a lyricist who could play on words well and could rap extremely fast.

JJK Records came across Sukuna after hearing a mix tape of his on an underground radio station, as soon as the company was aware of him they searched to find his whereabouts and asked him to train with the offer of being in the company's boyband. His position was already secured, and Sukuna accepted with the hopes of becoming a rapper/MC who could be respected internationally. He was scouted at 20 years old and trained for 4 years. The company needed someone who had a gruff, hard exterior, someone who could bring the smoke, and Sukuna had that. He’s crazy, unpredictable, and deadly you never know what he’s thinking and will bring the fire. His hot pink hair, face tattoos, bulky body, handsome face, and somewhat sadistic character brought a darker edge to the group. He had many female admirers too like the others because of the list mentioned before, and he would often flirt with them despite not being allowed to. Sukuna debuted at 24.

Choso Kamo is the boy lolita type, a little dim-witted, shy, and innocent and he is the youngest of the bunch. Choso trained for 2 years and was scouted at the age of 16 years old. Before becoming a trainee he was living in a foster home with his other friends who he took as siblings. When it came to talent Choso could sing well, his voice was great for harmonies and blending with other voices. His talent lay in his voice being used as an instrument to amplify and invoke a feeling/vibe. He was the only member who knew of JJK Records before auditioning and attended an audition of his own free will. Choso barely passed his audition due to his huge stage fright but spent 2 years overcoming that. However, he still comes off as shy and unsure of himself but tries his best. Yaga decided to debut Choso because he believed his talent for harmonies with any other voice/vocal was needed for the group. In addition, Choso also carries a cute, meek relatable persona which would be easy for the audience to relate to and crush over. Choso was adorkable, he wore sweaters and jeans that were too big for him and tied his black spiky hair with two puffs. His talking voice was sweet and earnest, and his pale shiny skin, toothy smile, luminous violet eyes, and purple eye shadow made him look like a cute luscious vampire. He is too cute for his good but when he gets serious another mature sexy side of him comes out.

Choso won the popular junior trainee award after 1 month of training, and most of the votes were from junior trainee fangirls.

All six members had spent time training together and forming a genuine bond despite fighting at times. They had hoped to debut together because they all got along. Despite Toji’s secret jealousy of Gojo, he did respect his talent and drive to show up and work. Everyone loved Nanami’s leadership Geto’s support, and Sukuna’s will to stick up for others especially when it came to Choso who got bullied by other trainees. But from now on the group's relationship would be truly tested. Once they debuted there was no going back.

‘’Yes, Yaga. We’ve all talked it through since we got the news. We’ve taken a little time to look at the contracts but we trust we are in good hands.’’ Nanami spoke kindly, Gojo brushed past the group and went up to Yaga leaning his hands on the table before the contracts. Gojo groaned like a kid in the candy store, his patience was running thin.

‘’We’ve gotten all of the formalities out of the way now. Let’s sign and move on to the good stuff.’’ Gojo groaned now bouncing up and down like a manchild. Geto shook his head and Nanami laughed in agreement. They both knew Gojo couldn’t contain his excitement.

‘’What I wanna know is what our group name is gonna be, it better not be cringy or some crap like that.’’ Sukuna deadpanned shoving his hands in the pockets of his camo pants.

‘’It’s not gonna be cringy, if so we’ll just force them to change it.’’ Toji chimed now stretching his arms and legs as all the other members laughed, before he and the other members went to sign their contracts.

Choso signed his contract slowly with a small smile on his face, ‘’I can finally get my siblings and me out, we can have a better life.’’ he whispered sadly, Geto placed a warm hand on Choso’s shoulder as a sign of comfort.

‘’You should be proud of yourself Choso. And don’t worry you and your siblings will be fine.’’ Geto reassured Choso

‘’You did good kid,’’ Sukuna says giving Choso a small punch on the arm, before Gojo whines and groans again loudly slouching down his body for dramatic effect. ‘’Stop with the waterworks already, we should be celebrating we just got signed,’’ he whines

All the contracts are signed and Yaga takes them off the table as Gakuganji stands up to leave the room bidding the group a small wave on his way out. Yaga then turns his back towards the group with his hands behind a serious feel to the atmosphere.

‘’Congratulations to you all. You’ve worked hard. Celebrate if you must, but that will only be for a short while. All 6 of you have a lot of work ahead of you. Once you debut everything will change, but you must stay grounded’’ Yaga started ‘’But first things first. I will reveal to you the group name.’’

Finally, Gojo thought to himself as he could see his friends look up in anticipation to hear what it was, the name of this group would be its trademark to the world. It had to be catchy and work well with the public. If not the group won’t hit well with the public and Gojo would have to kiss goodbye to his independence and chance at the high life.

‘’So what is it Yaga we don’t have all day?’’ Gojo yelled

‘’Watch it Satoru…Anyway…All six of you will debut next year. The name of your group will be…..’’

—-

Late 2020

Lori Utahime sat in her bedroom faced with an old Mac laptop in front of her, the room was very small and cramped, there was only enough space for a bed and mini wardrobe. Plain and bland were the words to explain how the room looked, it was grey and beige with minimal decoration or color. That’s the kind of person Lori was, she didn’t care about the vanities of the world, what mattered to her was the important things, the little things.

The only thing she cared about was her little dream. The dream wasn’t much but she just wanted to play baseball as an official athlete in the women's league. At age 11 she fell in love with the sport after watching a group of teens play baseball at her school, how they all worked as a team and achieved victory as a unit. Lori was often alone and isolated from others as a child, her interests often didn’t align with the other girls her age. She was into baseball, rock climbing, cartoons cosplay, and geeky stuff, while every other girl was growing up, being in love, and starting their life as a young woman. Boys saw her as weird for not being girly enough, they also judged her for the huge scar she has on the bridge of her nose, calling her names.

She wasn’t an attractive girl in her eyes, just a bland one.

That was okay with her, she was content with that.

Lori’s dream to compete in baseball professional was on the verge of a breakthrough, she worked hard at practicing in the batter position and was good enough to eventually be scouted by the women's Tokyo team for training. However, due to financial issues, Lori couldn’t afford to pay the fees and had to help out her family with the bills. She came from a poor family and times had gotten much harder since her dad got ill, therefore more financial burden fell on her. To help with the burden Lori left her baseball training behind to get a normal office job, it paid okay but it was a temporary role and now she desperately needed a new job.

The laptop screen was on the Indeed job search website, numerous jobs had been applied to but Lori just kept scrolling applying for any job she felt suitable for.

A buzzing sound came from Lori’s jeans pocket, it was her phone ringing, and in quick haste, she answered.

‘’Hello, this is Lori Utahime. May I know who’s speaking?’’ Lori spoke in a professional relaxed tone

The call was from the Human Resources & Administration Team of JJK Records, Lori had interviewed for a position as a Personal Assistant and had not heard anything in 3 weeks. The interview went well so she was hoping she’d get the job.

‘’Thank you Lori Utahime for taking the time to attend the interview for this position. We are truly amazed at your credentials and skills. Congratulations, we would like to offer you the role of Personal Assitant. Please let us know if you’d accept this offer.’’ said the voice from the other side of the phone.

Lori stood up slowly, gave herself a small congratulatory pat on the back, and gave a small smile before answering.

‘’Thank you, Nitta, I’d be delighted to take the offer.’’

——

I have uploaded this on my A03 account (my username there is different-Mint Bunniez)

You can find it here

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kemakoshume · 2 years

Text

Secrets Whispered in Writing — gojo x f!reader x geto

summary: Traveling through Edo-era Japan under the guard of two samurai—Satoru and Suguru—you find yourself in the mecca of art, music, and sex. You write your feelings down in your diary. Gojo and Getou are nosey.

· this is a samurai champloo!au based on episode 12 of the series. you don't need to watch the show to enjoy this but you should definitely watch it. it's amazing.

a/n: remember that samurai champloo fic i wrote for the lovely @cyancherub's "back from the dead" collab like... almost a year ago? lmao. well, i rewrote it, added a bunch to it, and made it satosugu x reader. so, here's that :) also posted on AO3. only the diary entries are in first-person; the rest of the fic isn't.

warnings: threesome (M/M/F), oral sex (f!receiving), double penetration.

❁ July 2nd — Sunny, then cloudy ❁

Gojo, Getou, and I landed in Edo for an extended mission today.

This is our fourth town and sixth month together. Things feel good.

I don’t have much to say about Edo except—wow. The people here are wild.

They make beautiful art with lacquers and textiles finer than silk.

The music feeds the soul and the food fuels carnal hunger.

They have sex without sexuality, and they have it in abundance.

Just between us, dear diary, the desire to throw myself into the debauchery of this town grows more and more with every hour we spend here.

What am I to do?

❁ July 4th — Cloudy ❁

I met a prostitute in a bar today. She was very lovely.

She asked about my companions and how a country girl like me learned how to tend to two strong samurai.

I didn’t tell her that they aren’t technically samurai.

They’re just two bozos with a little training and nice reflexes that can wield swords.

But anyway… I also didn’t tell her that I don’t ‘tend’ to them.

I’m afraid to admit that I want to.

❁ July 5th — Rainy, then foggy ❁

Today, I saw something that my eyes could’ve never imagined.

I’ve heard murmurs for ages that men here explore in ways that they don’t in the countryside. Today, I saw it.

Two men, out in the open inside our ryokan, making love like men do to women.

Now I can’t help but wonder if those two do the same when I’m not around.

If they’ve ever thought about it…

Hmph

❁ July 7th — Rainy, with sun ❁

I saw that prostitute again.

She suggested that the boys and I go to a bathhouse.

We went, and I saw it again.

Two men, but this time with a woman—another worker.

All three of them, together. I didn’t know that was possible.

❁ July 8th — Rainy ❁

I can’t stop picturing it.

The three of us, like those people in the bathhouse.

If it were possible.

❁ July 10th — Warm, and wet ❁

A handsome man who paints portraits asked me on the street if he could draw me.

I said yes. He showed me his home, and he drew me nude.

He asked if I could touch myself… like the yuujo girls that sit in the shop windows do to attract customers.

I said yes. He drew that too.

My mind raced with thoughts of Suguru’s polished hands and Satoru’s slick tongue the entire time.

Fuck.

❁ July 11th — Cloudy, with sunshine ❁

Things feel funny.

Getou held my waist today as he walked past me.

He and Gojo haven’t fought in two days.

Well, each other, at least.

They’ve fought plenty of other people.

Strange.

❁ July 12th — Foggy ❁

We’ll only be in Edo for one more day.

I don’t want to leave.

The energy is infectious.

I’ve caught it like a disease.

❁ July 13th — Sunny, but cool ❁

Gojo suggested we stay another night.

He conned a guy out of a home to stay in.

Getou and I said yes.

❁ July 14th — Sunny ❁

I figured it out.

I know you two are reading these. Getou—give Gojo my regards.

And answer my questions ~

Cowards.

“So, are you going to explain yourselves or just sit in silence all night?”

You looked down at the two men from your position at the head of your shared sleeping room, staring down at them sitting on the floor in front of you while you leaned on the homeowner’s large wooden desk. Satoru sat with his long legs crossed at the knees—his arms folded in a similar fashion across the lean muscle of his chest. Suguru did the same, though his large indigo blue haori sleeves hid his muscular arms, and his hands were interlaced in his lap—almost like he was meditating. Their faces housed similar scowls, though Gojo’s was characteristically indignant while Getou looked typically temperate.

For a moment, the room was vacant of your voices. The only sound that was audible between the firm wooden walls was your breathing—heavy against the weight of your breasts beneath the lining of your delicate yukata. The mid-summer warmth bled into the air, making all three of you bead lightly with a thin sheen of sweat.

“Well?” you said, your tone insistent as the sound of cicadas nestled in the trees grew louder from outside the ryokan.

Gojo huffed, shaking out the pleasantly clean—for once—mop of wavey white curls on top of his head.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve calling us cowards when you were busy hiding your feelings in your diary,” he said, his voice gruff as he moved his line of sight from the floor and fixed it on you. “Yeah, we read your stupid diary! Shouldn’t leave shit lying around if you don’t want anyone to see.”

A deep inhale of air filled your lungs, only for it to be expelled twice as fast. “Satoru,” you said, your eyes pointed and glaring at the wild-haired man, “that was one of my personal things. I don’t touch your swords, so why would you touch my diary? It’s basically the same thing!”

He scoffed, something akin to a laugh bubbling in his throat. “Do you protect us with that journal, princess? Can that journal cut your cute little fingers off if you wield it wrong? Hm?”

You huffed, sputtering out rushing words to negate the man’s sentiments. Though, as even Getou breathed out a chuckle, you knew your protests fell on two sets of deaf ears.

“So, no then?” Gojo said, cocking his full lips into a lazy smile. “Hear that, Suguru? She thinks her diary is the same thing as a sword.”

Your foot hit the floor with a dull thud as you stomped one down in petulant irritation. “That’s not what I said! And, anyway, it’s still my thing. My private thing. You had no right to read it!”

Satoru adjusted his body, sitting so that his right leg was still crossed, but now his left was propped up—making the already lanky man look even larger as he spread out his limbs.

“I didn’t read anything,” he said, feigning innocence—as the man was notably illiterate. “But, you can’t stand here and play the dumb card with us, princess. You say you didn’t want us to see, but you left the thing on my side of the room—and you know I’m nosey. And you left it here unattended, out in the open, knowing that Getou here can read. For something you’re so protective of, you sure do a lousy job at keeping it hidden. Unless—”

“She wanted us to read it, as proven obvious by the last submission in the journal,” Suguru said, lifting his gaze to look up at you as well. “And your incessant desire to know our thoughts about the ill-kept secrets you filled the pages with.”

Despite your higher position, being the one standing, suddenly you felt small in front of the two men. Getou—the stoic man with long black hair and piercing eyes, with dewy milk-white skin unwithered despite your days in the sun, and Gojo—the other man sworn to protect you on your journey, with untamed hair and tan skin—facial hair that added a more masculine edge to his thinner physique, and a tongue as quick as the draw of his sword.

The two couldn’t have been more different in most ways. Suguru was refined; Satoru was a menace. Yet somehow, despite the difference in their dispositions, in moments like this, they couldn’t have felt more similar. When they were toying with you with their words, passing you back and forth to be teased and taunted in that way you begrudgingly enjoyed, their similarities shined. They were always at their best when it came to playing with you.

“Well, out with it then,” Gojo said, tapping his foot impatiently. “We’ve already decided to share you, so get on with it and ask.”

You blinked, your lashes fluttering in disbelief as you scoffed. “Share me?” you said, followed by a series of incomplete thoughts flowing out in a blur from your lips. “I—I just… share? Me, with both of you? Do I look like a geiko to you? I mean… Satoru, I would never, and Suguru, you barely even look at me half the time. So, I—”

Suguru stood up without a word, crossing the small distance between where he sat and where you stood with three long strides. Your protests ceased as he slid his body against yours, his front flush against you as the man held your face in his hands.

“Stop talking,” he said firmly, making the rush of words halt on your tongue. “We read enough to know what you want. Do you want it to be a reality, or are you content with it being a personal fairytale forever?”

You looked up into Suguru’s deep onyx-colored eyes, somehow tinged even darker with a hint of something you’d never seen on the man’s face before. The fixed position of his jaw, like the man was holding back words—which, for him, was strange—enticed you to nod as he lowered his hands to your hips, guiding you to sit back on the desk.

“Good, then lay down.”

You did as you were told and laid down on the desk, feebly attempting to hold the slipping fabric of your yukata closed in the front as the fabric stretched in the new position.

“Oh, now she’s shy,” Gojo murmured, rolling his eyes as he stood too, coming over to sit next to you on the heavy desk. “But you showed that hack painter the goods with no problem?”

Satoru gripped the obe keeping the thin fabric closed, looking down at you with those crystal-blue eyes in wait until you nodded your head and moved your hands—removing them from where they’d been gripping the garment tight to shield your bare skin beneath.

“Are you hustling us?” Suguru asked, running his hands up your nude body beneath the fabric, causing it to pool around you like a halo as the fabric fell off of you and down onto the desk, only still connected to you by the sleeves. “No wrapping for your breasts. No drawers. And your skin is so supple—practically begging to be touched.”

He wasted no time in dipping his head down then, leaning his tall body over your smaller frame easily to envelop you in his warmth—the weight of his mouth on your skin sending heat down from the crown of your head to your feet as a shiver coursed through your body. He nosed your neck, nipping the area with his teeth before soothing the pain away with kisses while his hands traveled the curves and dips of your body.

Gojo watched, looking down at you both as Getou took one taut nipple into his mouth and sucked before moving his attention down the length of your torso.

“You smell wonderful right here,” Suguru said, kissing his way down until he was squatting, his face level with your cunt. “So wet for me, and I’ve barely done anything to you. Have you thought about this for that long?”

You nodded, willing to throw away a bit of your pride as the man’s mouth hovered so close but still too far away from where you wanted it.

“Me?” Satoru said indignantly, scrunching his nose in irritation. “I thought this was supposed to be a group project, casanova.”

The blue-eyed man adjusted his body to be comfortable as he lowered his head, taking one of your nipples into his mouth and sucking. You ran your hand through Gojo's hair, lightly gripping the soft strands to keep his mouth on you as Suguru lifted your legs, pushing them back and resting his arms against the back of your thighs to keep them open.

“It’s like a little pearl,” Suguru said, mostly to himself as an airy moan left your lungs due to Gojo adding his hands to the mix, pinching your unattended nipple with his fingers.

He lowered his mouth down to your “pearl” then, flicking the muscle tentatively at first, then relaxing into the motions as you wiggled your hips to make him move.

“See?” you said, your voice not sounding like your own as you spoke. “You two work together great. Perfect partners in crime.”

You felt more than saw Suguru's eye roll as he smacked the soft skin of your inner thighs, and Satoru very subtly added his teeth into the next bout of suction against your sensitive nipple. The slight sting of pain added to the pleasure, and you felt the feeling growing beneath your skin as their tongues worked harder against your body.

Satoru moved, adjusting to lay on his side next to you as he toyed with your breasts. The sound of their tongues on your skin was loud in the quiet room as your high crept up on you, building to a fever pitch until you felt nothing but wet heat and saw infinite darkness behind your eyelids. Soft whimpers and long moans poured out of your mouth to accompany it.

“Do you want to taste her? She tastes divine,” Getou murmured toward Gojo, his words slurred slightly as he licked you gently as your orgasm came down. He looked like a man starved; like he couldn’t care less that the “end” had occurred. He just wanted more of you.

Satoru lifted his head, stopping his mission of marking any skin he could get his mouth on. “I wouldn’t describe pussy as divine, but you do your thing. I want to feel her inside,” he said, looking down to watch Getou flick his tongue against your slick folds with reverence again before hopping off of the desk.

“Let’s move this party down to the floor, hm?” Gojo said, running his blunt nails along the sensitive skin of Suguru’s neck as he walked behind him. He slotted his hand in the man’s hair, pulling his head backward to remove him from his daze of feasting on you.

You couldn’t hear well over the beating of your heart in your ears, but you’re sure you heard a slight whine tumble from Getou’s mouth just as a disappointed groan left yours.

“No,” you said, pouting with irritation as Gojo coaxed Getou backward with his hold on his hair. “I felt another one coming.”

He hummed, guiding Suguru down to the ground that was padded with thick tatami mats. “Don’t pout,” Satoru said, walking back over to you. “You’ll get yours again, princess, don’t worry. Waiting for it a little won’t kill you.” He wasted no time lifting you off the furniture, carrying your weight easily with his deceptively strong arms.

He sat you down in between Suguru's legs allowing the other man to hold you close to his chest with his arm wrapped around your waist. As you settled into his lap, your eyes focused forward on Gojo, and you couldn’t stifle the gasp as you saw his length. It hung free from his pants, heavy and blushed at the tip between his legs as he approached you on the tatami.

“Don’t act all innocent,” he said, leaning into your space to kiss you before slotting his legs with Getou’s—caging you between them both. “You’ve seen a dick before.”

You blinked dumbly, wondering how much an insufferable man could be blessed with so much girth. “Not one like that,” you muttered, yelping with a shout as Gojo landed a swift spank against your sensitive bud.

“Shut up,” he groaned, resting his hand on the firm bone above your cunt while his thumb dipped down into the mess of sloppy wet slick coating your sex. “Getou, get your cock out. I want to try something.”

The typical temperate man made no contests as he normally would. He simply lifted your body enough to wiggle his pants down and placed you back down in his lap, pressing his hard length against your back.

“It’s out. Now what?”

Gojo smirked, pushing your legs toward your chest as he sat up enough to be kneeling.

“Hold these,” he said, gripping your thighs until Getou’s hands replaced his—holding you open and exposed for the world to see.

“I’ll get her nice and ready, then you can have your fill, Suguru.”

Gojo fisted his cock, running his hand up and down the length a few times before nestling himself against your entrance—impatiently asking for your approval with his eyes. You nodded as Getou tilted your chin up to meet his gaze, and he kissed you—deep and filled with passion you didn’t know the man was capable of while Gojo sheathed himself into your wet heat, groaning as he bottomed out.

“Jesus, you’re soft. Everywhere, but fuck—right here. Inside,” he said, his breathing ragged as he began to move. His characteristic ruthlessness came out in full force as he wasted no time thrusting into you, making your body jolt and rub against Getou’s abdomen, and thus his cock trapped in-between.

“A little less rough, Gojo,” Getou said, a weak moan spilling from his lips as a particularly firm thrust that made him rut against you harder than he meant to. “I’d rather not cum on her back, at least not like this.”

Satoru laughed, loosening his grip on your hips as he looked the other man in the eye. “Well, get inside of her then, dumbass. I’ll wait.”

You allowed your body to be rag-dolled as the men exchanged places inside of you—Satoru’s hard length pulling out as Suguru slid inside.

“‘S’ different,” you said, moaning into the exchange as Gojo’s girth was switched with Getou’s length. “Fucking good. It’s really good.”

Suguru cooed at you, kissing you messily as one of his hands found your nipple while the other gripped your waist—holding you still while Suguru fucked you. Satoru busied his hands with your clit as he let the other man get his fill, tugging his own cock as he watched his fuck into you nice and deep despite the position.

Gojo and patient were two words that had never complimented each other well, so when he pressed his length against your entrance, with Getou still inside, all you could do was beg for more despite the surprise. You gasped when he lightly breached your cunt, accidentally slipping in when you slammed down onto Getou’s cock. Satoru had been jerking himself off with his tip against your folds. Still, once the idea was there…

“Do it again,” you said, taking a deep breath when Suguru stopped his thrusts for a moment to process what you were asking for.

The two men communicated something with their eyes and then directed their looks down to you.

“Well, she did say she wanted us both, right? Like that prostitute and her clients at the bathhouse?” Gojo said, faltering as your breathing quickened once you pieced together that the two were okay with what you wanted.

It should have terrified you. Absolutely petrified you, but it didn’t. Your heart raced with excitement as the two men positioned themselves to do what your dreams couldn’t have conjured on their own. You felt your cunt drip with want at the mere thought of it, and the two men—the men who put their lives on the line for yours daily, who loved you so deeply in their own ways— were both ready to make it happen.

“I want it,” you whimpered, wiggling your hips back and forth to entice the man to move. For one of them to do something. “I want you both.”

You could feel Suguru’s body tense as you said the words, but you lulled his worries with a massaging squeeze with your walls around his cock—eliciting a deep moan from the man and at that moment, Satoru made you whole.

His cock nestled in snug against Getou’s, stretching you to your limits, then he moved. Slow at first, with nothing but careful intent in his eyes as he let you adjust. But after a few minutes, filled with distracting kisses and caresses on all the spots you needed their hands the most, Gojo fucked you—and you saw stars. Everything was shrouded in darkness after that. Your eyes snapped closed, and your ears no longer processed sound as the overwhelming sensation of fullness processed in your nerves, driving you to the brink of insanity as the two men rutted into you—grabbing any flesh they could reach while tangling their tongues with yours—and each other—before you were all reaching your peaks, stuffed and satiated with the warm trembling of post-coital glow.

It was bliss.

“What else do you want to try, Satoru?” Suguru panted, breathless as you all soaked in each other’s presence on the quickly cooling tatami mats. Kissing and cuddling once Satoru pulled out of you, while Getou decided to leave his cock inside you for warmth.

“Hell if I know. She’s the creative one here,” Satoru said, a lazy smile gracing his face again as he pulled you into a kiss.

“That she is.” Suguru purred, nuzzling his nose against the crown of your head. “We have all the time in the world to try everything you dream of and more, princess.”

You hummed, letting the two kiss you and touch you to your heart's content, falling into the rhythm of ‘want’ all over again.

“You know… you two never really answered my question,” you said between kisses, interrupting Suguru as he rubbed circles against your clit with his long middle finger.

“The question being?” he asked, resuming his movements as he stopped trying to rack his brain for the answer on his own.

“Have you ever done this when you’re alone?” You asked, placing a quick kiss on the samurai's throat as you gazed at Satoru. “Did you think I didn’t notice you kissing, too?”

They looked between each other, scowled, and groaned a matching, “only in your dreams.”

Though the slightest hint of hesitation gave them away, and the night of exploration continued.

------

thanks for reading <;3 taglist; ao3; twitter

#gojo x reader x geto #satosugu x reader #jjk smut #fic rewrite #getou smut #gojo smut #kk.writes #kk.jjk

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findroleplay · 1 year

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🕊 hey all! i'm currently looking for an oc x oc pairing. desired themes include dark romance, enemies-to-lovers, obsession/ possessiveness, a college setting, and lots of darker actions/darker kinks like dubcon or noncon, also willing to do vanilla/no nsfw if your character is still fairly dark minus it. i've been devouring Kindle Unlimited books these past few days, and i'm super into the whole culpa mia vibe but make it more fucked-up, euphoria's aesthetic, devils night, gossip girl, rina kent's universe, cora reilly universe- those kind of vibes.

in short, give me a complex, twisted romance in a dark, debauchery-ridden, intense setting, and i'll die for you.

looking for the aesthetic of ≫ glamour, college life, fist fights in lamborghinis, beautiful people, money & power, partying, dark strobe lights, swimming pools, drugs, debauchery, sin, nihilism, darkness, pain & sadism, twisted souls, drama, angst, messed-up love, haunting, grungy, secrets untold, emotional, hate&love.

music vibes 》 chase atlantic, the weeknd, lana del rey, the nbhd.

a little about me 》 20F writer, bst tmz. adv.lit-novella (multiple discord messages/6-10k+ characters), loves literature. prefers playing F roles and writing with other F writers in the mxf pairing. replies slowly (once or twice per week), but is quick with OOC. engages in lots of headcanoning and planning for rps. wants to feel love&worry for your ocs bc that's how you'll feel about my crazy darlings (i love imperfect, twisted, flawed OCs). fine with dead-dove & darker kinks, specifics like limits can be discussed in dms. open to noncon/dubcon, s/m & more for this rp, or more of a vanilla, depending on the other rper's desires.

what i'm looking for 》 an enthusiastic collab partner!! my rp copium is communication, so let's fangirl together!! gimme headcanons, pinboards, properly detailing the rp, character dissection, sharing tiktoks, analysis, character&dynamic building - i love all that, so let's do it all!...

ideally, i'd love a fellow novella rper, mxf pairing, preferably another f writer.

this is unashamedly a plot call for my beloved rambly writers. i can plan & write for pages partners who give the same energy back and CONTRIBUTE have my heart. my policy is that i will give as good as i get, so if i'm providing pages of ideas and getting nothing but one-word replies in return, then my interest will die. please try to have a similar energy to me, and we'll get on so so well!!

if interested, like this ad & i'll get back to you asap <3.

#rp #roleplay #oc rp #original rp #fandomless rp #mxf rp

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icharchivist · 1 year

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so uhm..- if the rating only went up to mature after a while, the sexy debauchery etc is more late game in bfg, i assume? or how much effort would it require to get to the whole chocolate dude and crotch guy stuff, asking for a friend :)

- definitely not crotchery anon

bfg.....

but yeah the sexy debauchery is more "late game" but it did start a few years before the rating went up!

we just celebrated the game's 9th anni and Belial was introduced for the 4th anni for instance, and the rating rose 2 years ago o7

as for the effort this is where it starts to become a problem unfortunately :(

there's a few units you can get by clearing some events, but those aren't exactly great units (tho they help for early games). For any worthwhile units you want to pull in the gacha during Gala (when the banner is shining golden basically) because it is when the SSR are in rate up and the Grand (the most powerful and useful units of the game) are in rate up.

There is a pity system (if you pull 300 times you can get any of the characters in the sparking pool), but it takes a lot to secure what we call "a spark"

And there comes the other problem, the stuff you can get in gacha are divided between weapons, some of which that unlocks characters, and Summons. And while weapons are sparkable, summons are usually not.

And during some seasons, some characters are in a pool for a limited time. Ex: Summer characters will only be available in summer.

Crotchy mister man is not a playable unit but he has two summons. A regular one, that is available in the main pool at all time... and his Summer one, which is only available if you pull during summer. And it's not possible to spark for him, so it's 100% luck to get him.

As for Wilnas, he's a grand character so he's only available during one of the Gala, but his vday skin is something you have to pay for. and you can only use it once you have the character. So it's not handy at all.

I wouldn't recommend starting the game in the hope of getting Summer Belial or Vday Wilnas, at least, it would be tragic.

If you want to meet the characters in game, Wilnas's stories for now have only been events so they're only available if you were there when the event was live. Belial's events meanwhile are all available in the side stories once you reach chapter 44 of the main story.

I should also mention: GBF has regular Free Pull Seasons. So some period of the year where we get like, free 10 pulls per day, sometimes more and stuff. The best ones are around New Year and the anni in March, but there is a small one in August that should start soon.

And there tend to also be free pulls seasons when big collab events happen, which will happen this August as there is an incoming Jujutsu Kaisen's collab in the work.

.... Basically, what i'm trying to say is, if you want to play gbf, getting specific characters will be tricky and mostly luck based :( but if anything, August will be a good month to start out since it'll be the time of the free pulls season.

And if you must know rn there's a rerun of the "Lesbians VS Zombies" event. If you like sexy men, this man will await you in it

And if you like lesbians, this is an event staring those two:

Honestly gbf is not very beginner friendly in general and i would totally understand that if it's mostly for thirst, you may just... prefer to like, watch the events on youtube or something, if you want to try it at all

but if you need tips of any kind my inbox is always opened

o7 the more you know!

#ichareply #anonymous #totally not crotchy anon #ichafantalks gbf

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gravehags · 11 months

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Ghoulettes with an onlyfans account you say ?!?!!? I would SO collab with them in a heartbeat ; solo debauchery to pay the bills is great, group debauchery to pay the bills is better I say

It’s considered the highest honor at the abbey to be invited to uh…perform with the ghoulettes. if you’re in a steady relationship with one of them though? there’s no way they’re letting anyone else see what the two of you get up to, until you broach the subject first then they just might reconsider…the two of you do have expensive taste after all

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thebowerypresents · 1 year

Text

Sam Smith Thrills Adoring Madison Square Garden Crowd on First of Two Nights

Sam Smith – Madison Square Garden – August 8, 2023

For more than a decade, Sam Smith has continued to evolve as an artist, moving from a balladeer to full-on dance-floor ringmaster. Smith’s vocals burst onto the scene as a featured artist on Disclosure’s “Latch.” Bathed in electronic beats, their voice fit like a glove, however Smith later revealed some hesitancy: “I remember hearing ‘Latch’ and I didn’t even know whether it was good or not, because I didn’t know electronic music or dance music. It just wasn’t for me.” Although their early career saw success with such heartbreaking songs as “Stay with Me” and “Too Good at Goodbyes,” Smith embraced a more joyous reverie on 2020’s Love Goes, the singer’s third LP, which they admitted was influenced by listening to a lot of Robyn while recording it. This year’s Gloria takes the spectacle even further, earning Smith and Kim Petras a Grammy for Best Pop Duo/Group Performance. On Tuesday, Smith opened a two-night stand at Madison Square Garden to a sea of rabid admirers.

The show was divided into three acts, beginning with “Love.” With dramatic flair, an enormous golden reclining nude sculpture was revealed from beneath a white drape and served as the night’s centerpiece. Opening with the ballads “Stay with Me” and “I’m Not the Only One,” Smith crooned from their back catalog until opener Jessie Reyez returned to join in on the Gloria collab track “Perfect.” A transition from the first to the second act (dedicated to “Beauty”) had Smith descend into the depths of the stage to reemerge in a ball gown atop the statue. They would cover Des’ree’s “Kissing You” before calling up backup singer LaDonna to share verses on “Lay Me Down,” which brought enthusiastic cheers from the admiring audience.

Dancers in sheer golden jumpsuits cascaded across the stage during “Love Goes,” and Smith donned a simple black ensemble for “Gimme.” Reyez rejoined the onstage antics twerking against the butt of the sculpture. The second act writhed with dance numbers from the Calvin Harris–produced “Promises” to the song that put Smith on the map, “Latch.” For the final act, entitled “Sex,” the playful dancing from the previous acts hit a fever pitch of debauchery with the cover of Madonna’s “Human Nature” and the Grammy-winning “Unholy.” —Sharlene Chiu | @Shar0ck

(Sam Smith plays the Garden again tonight.)

Photos courtesy of Ellen Qbertplaya | @Qbertplaya

#Calvin Harris #Des’ree #Dispatch #Ellen Qbertplaya #Gloria #Jessie Reyez #Kim Petras #LaDonna #Love Goes #Madison Square Garden #Madonna #Photos #Review #Robyn #Sam Smith #Sharlene Chiu

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findyourrp · 1 year

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🕊 hey all! i'm currently looking for an oc x oc pairing. desired themes include dark romance, enemies-to-lovers, obsession/possessiveness, a college setting, and lots of darker actions/darker kinks like dubcon or noncon, also willing to do vanilla/no nsfw if your character is still fairly dark minus it. i've been devouring Kindle Unlimited books these past few days, and i'm super into the whole culpa mia vibe but make it more fucked-up, euphoria's aesthetic, skins, gossip girl, rina kent's universe, penelope douglas, cora reilly- those kind of vibes.

in short, give me a complex, twisted romance in a dark, debauchery-ridden, intense setting, and i'll die for you.

looking for the aesthetic of 》 glamour, college life, fist fights in lamborghinis, beautiful people, money & power, partying, dark strobe lights, swimming pools, drugs, debauchery, nihilism, darkness, pain & sadism, twisted souls, drama, angst, messed-up love, haunting, grungy, secrets untold, emotional, hate&love.

music vibes 》 chase atlantic, the weeknd, lana del rey, the nbhd.

a little about me 》 20F writer, bst tmz. adv.lit-novella (multiple discord messages/ 6-10k+ characters), loves literature. prefers playing F roles and writing with other F writers. replies slowly (once or twice per week), but is quick with OOC. engages in lots of headcanoning and planning for rps. wants to feel love&worry for your ocs bc that's how you'll feel about my crazy darlings (i love imperfect, twisted, flawed OCs). fine with dead-dove & darker kinks, specifics like limits can be discussed in dms. open to noncon/dubcon, s/m & more for this rp, or more of a vanilla, depending on the other rper's desires.

ideally, i'd love a fellow novella rper, mxf pairing, preferably another f writer.

if interested, like this ad & i'll get back to you asap <3.

like & asker will find you!

#rp finder #18+ rp #fandom rp #fandom roleplay #oc x oc rp #fandomless rp #fandomless oc #1 x 1 rp #spicy rp #dark romance rp #roleplay

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hhawks · 2 years

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READ RULES BEFORE FOLLOWING.

recents: ✰ BELLYACHE - hawks x reader ✰ TO HAVE AND TO HOLD - kuroo x reader ✰ GUNPOWDER EMPIRES - roy mustang x reader

works in progress

PATREON recents: ✰ TO HAVE AND TO HOLD - kuroo tetsurou x reader (EA) ✰ ARTILLERY - shigaraki tomura x reader (PO)

masterlist

ONGOING: HAWKS/2K COLLAB. ONGOING: DEBAUCHERY COLLAB.

#hera navigation <3

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elxctrics · 8 months

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"i was born to run, i don't belong to anyone, oh no. i don't need to be loved by you. fire in my lungs, can't bite the devil on my tongue, oh no."

(—) ★ spotted!! LEYLA PASHA on the cover of this week’s most recent tabloid! many say that the 23 year old looks like ASENA KESKINCI, but i don’t really see it. while the SINGER is known for being CONFIDENT my inside sources say that they have a tendency to be OBNOXIOUS i swear, every time i think of them, i hear the song MIDNIGHT SKY by MILEY CYRUS {she + her / cis female}

𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓼

name: leyla pasha

age: twenty three

nicknames: ley-ley, pash

date of birth: august 22nd, 2001

astrological sign: leo

place of birth: istanbul, turkey

occupation: singer

label: the pop sensation

positive traits: confident, talkative, spontaneous, energetic

negative traits: obnoxious, scandalous, no-filter, shameless

characters/celebrities he’s like: dua lipa, tana mongeau, renee rapp, aubrey plaza

𝓫𝓲𝓸𝓰𝓻𝓪𝓹𝓱𝔂

she was just supposed to be a normal girl, or at least that's what her parents tried to make her.

with her father being one of the most popular actors in turkey and her mother being a supermodel turned luxury clothing designer of her very own line, although they tried their best to shield their only child from the opulence and the glitz and the glamour, leyla was drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

she was loud and dramatic and often times considered 'too much' and her parents figured boarding school would whip her into shape come high school, but it did just the opposite.

after being shipped off to london, leyla started a youtube channel documenting her freshman year, vlogging all of the debaucheries things her and her friends got into.

she was a notorious party girl and wasn't shy about drinking and doing drugs on camera, despite the fact that it was causing wild headlines back home in turkey and causing her to get in lots of trouble at school - but trouble was nothing that mommy and daddy's money couldn't buy her out of.

in between the vlogs of her throwing ragers in her dorm room, every once in a while, she'd post covers of her favorite songs, and those videos became her most popular. garnishing over millions and millions of views.

when she was only seventeen years old, warner brothers reached out to her and offered her a recording contract, which she happily took.

they were lacking a giant, female pop sensation and planned on turning leyla into just that.

a day after she threw her hat in the air at her boarding school graduation, she was on a plane to l.a straight from her graduation party and finally, the life she always wanted was about to begin.

after two long years of working on her first album, three years ago, her self titled album, leyla pasha, was released. this album secured her the win for best new artist in 2020 at the grammy's.

since then, leyla has been touring this album while also releasing a plethora of singles and collaborations - from title tracks for movies, to collabs with the hottest artists in the industry, she's truly becoming the newly cemented princess of pop.

however, she remains in her messy roots, not one to change for the cameras or become more uppity. she still keeps up with her youtube vlogs and still, unashamedly, acts exactly like the wild party girl she used to be back in london.

she truly said fuck you to media training and is known for saying the most out of pocket things in interviews, calling people out and starting shit online, just because she can.

#hillzintro #leyla

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jwscrobbles · 9 years

Text

TOP 100 SONGS SCROBBLED FOR 2015

Ok. Here we go. Another year. Another 100 songs. 2015 was a different year for me. A year of changes. More changes than I’d like. More changes than I want. But curveballs keep life rolling along. Music is always a mainstay but instead of being ahead of the trend, music was more reflective this year. As usual, some standbys: Ellie Goulding, Maroon 5, Disclosure, Florence and the Machine. Some return to form: D’ angelo, Teedra Moses, the Bird and the Bee. Some newbies: Tori Kelly, Alina Baraz, Alessia Cara. And the ubiquitous: Taylor Swift, Kendrick Lamar, Adele, . But for me, there were a handful of acts that summarized 2015. 1) THE INTERNET I had a friend introduce me to their music in 2013. And I really enjoyed them then. So when I found out they were releasing a new album in 2015, I was anticipating a really fun venture. But Ego Death is a display of what is missing in music now. The Internet plays more so with a smooth 90s sound that truly feels current now. There’s no trap or ratchet. It’s all instrumental. And they feel more like what the Brand New Heavies could be if they embraced more hip hop now. Ego Death landed them their first Grammy nod. And although, I find NARAS to be too arbitrary, here’s one I think they really got right. 2) LIANNE LA HAVAS This is just a consequence of coming along just at the right time. Her debut in 2012 was a great beginning for the British R&B chanteuse and but I can only admit that I had a solid few faves from that album. But her follow-up seems richer. Not just in sound, but in theme. La Havas is more astute at being young, while truly characterizing life experiences She seems to capture the most simplistic of feelings with vast descriptors that just seem to describe the depth of the feelings in her songs. Whether “What You Don’t Do”, “Unstoppable”, “Good Goodbye” – I feel her revelations more. And it appears her critics have too. 3) EMPIRE I can legitimately say that as much as I loved Glee, I downloaded a handful of songs to play and scrobble. You can see in previous years’ lists. I think there are only maybe two that have been ranked. But this year, Empire takes the cake. There are multiple songs that I listened to from that show and it appears that there are two in the list now. PS. I didn’t know Jussie Smollet was as talented as he is. That leaves two more acts for me that overwhelmingly define the year. 4) In 2012, it seemed as if there was this current R&B triology of acts that were heavily embraced. Frank Ocean seemed like the critical darling that was pushing for mass appeal and Miguel was the mass appeal artist who was seeking that critical acclaim. And in the conversation was an act who was always mentioned for his underground, internet mixtape appeal but wasn’t able to breakthrough as much. Enter 2014. After a concerted effort to play from the underground arena to the major label system and landing some big wig producers, he was able to develop an ongoing buzz. He released “Often” which is completely NSFW but actually trends harder into his drug-adled milieu of sexual debauchery and emotional void to create some buzz for a return. Then, he duets with Ariana Grande (of all people) to get some mainstream exposure. This after release a collab with Sia and Diplo that was officially released for a Hunger Games soundtrack in 2013. And then, he goes back to the soundtrack playbook with a very aptly crafted, seductive song for Fifty Shades of Grey. And then a former internet underground sensation dominates a year on pop radio. I honestly would never have believed if someone told me in 2012 that The Weeknd would be a massive pop star of all things. And more importantly, with that the same center-of-the-earth well of emotional void. The Weeknd can ultimately say he bested that 2012 competition after all. 5) Lastly, I will say this. I am one of those die-hard fans who really thought that my girl had moved out of the country and left the industry all together. But she came back. And she did outside of the label system. But not only did she come back, she came back to a form that I had missed from her for over a decade and a half. Janet Jackson returned this year with an album that I believe picked up where The Velvet Rope left off. Whereas TVR was an introspective album, exploring the ability for her comfortable in her feelings and her beliefs, Unbreakable is more of the album that cements who she is. Instead of looking inward, this album looks outward into the world and even her current place in it. I can’t put it any other way but to say I love this album. And in typical Janet form, she, Jimmy, and Terry crafted songs that are quintessentially her thoughts but are open to interpretations to what she could be referring to. The album is rich in expression, sound, and feeling. At times, she can seem like a messenger, a sage, a big sister, and a wiser friend. For the first time in awhile, Janet has put out an album that really seems fully-actualized and feels like her on her own terms. That what has always made her great and what makes Unbreakable solid. And yes, there are points in that album that just seems to truly connect with my life. On that note, it’s another year. Another 100 songs and dates first scrobbled. Yes, I’m a dork and I live my life this way daily. 1) The Weeknd EARNED IT 1/25/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=waU75jdUnYw 2) MNEK THE RHYTHM 1/10/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9fYeiGeuTFA 3) Nicki Minaj/Drake/Lil Wayne ONLY 1/6/2014 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zXtsGAkyeIo 4) Janet Jackson NO SLEEEP 6/22/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2_t0ffY3JvE 5) Florence + the Machine WHAT KIND OF MAN 3/11/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XgeKHTcufLY 6) Jidenna/Roman GianArthur CLASSIC MAN 4/12/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nsiN0W15w0U 7) Empire Cast YOURE SO BEAUTIFUL 2/27/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JHhrPeaAir8 8) Nicki Minaj/Drake/Lil Wayne TRUFFLE BUTTER 1/17/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pzqe-yJWmLk 9) Wale/Jeremih THE BODY 1/26/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zQMMI8itli8 10) D'angelo and the The Vanguard REALLY LOVE 12/16/2014 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mVsQwJfWzoI 11) Jamie Foxx/Chris Brown YOU CHANGED ME 4/18/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I26EwcssMbY 12) Take That THESE DAYS 12/21/2014 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I43R3jIFE74 13) Usher/Juicy J I DON'T MIND 1/11/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9jWBYKvQjO8 14) Gorgon City/Jennifer Hudson GO ALL NIGHT 12/3/2014 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LtHxT0gndjU 15) Miguel/Wale COFFEE 5/13/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Z55sZ2oVY4 16) Taylor Swift/Kendrick Lamar BAD BLOOD 6/6/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QcIy9NiNbmo 17) The Weeknd CAN'T FEEL MY FACE 6/13/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KEI4qSrkPAs 18) Jill Scott FOOL'S GOLD 7/11/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uoEKX0CniNY 19) The Dream/TI THAT'S MY SHIT 1/25/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y_PwH3Wk78w 20) Wiz Khalifa/Charlie Puth SEE YOU AGAIN 4/20/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RgKAFK5djSk 21) Maroon 5 SUGAR 4/2/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=09R8_2nJtjg 22) Taylor Swift STYLE 2/10/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-CmadmM5cOk 23) Ellie Goulding LOVE ME LIKE YOU DO 1/17/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AJtDXIazrMo 24) Maroon 5 THIS SUMMER'S GONNA HURT 5/28/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wa64gOwuIyE 25) The Internet UNDER CONTROL 8/8/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NrR42BTa9iM 26) Lianne La Havas WHAT YOU DON'T DO 8/11/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DNLkD8QEnAM 27) Major Lazer LEAN ON 7/3/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YqeW9_5kURI 28) Alessia Cara HERE 8/14/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UKp2CrfmVfw 29) Jeremih/J Cole PLANES 9/11/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F8iekPcUqm4 30) Sam Sparro HANDS UP 9/20/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZZESzGGm29c 31) Disclosure/Lorde MAGNETS 9/28/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b_KfnGBtVeA 32) Alina Baraz/Galamatias CAN I 9/29/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1A_F4LJYCPo 33) MNEK MORE THAN A MIRACLE 4/29/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Chl3PqVjngU 34) Demi Lovato COOL FOR THE SUMMER 8/14/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=il9nqWw9W3Y 35) Tove Lo TALKING BODY 1/23/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AzRyxGBGiAE 36) The Weeknd THE HILLS 6/7/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yzTuBuRdAyA 37) Disclosure/Sam Smith OMEN 8/9/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fB63ztKnGvo 38) Janet Jackson UNBREAKABLE 9/4/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TfBL5HPS_jA 39) Kylie Minogue/Garibay/Sam Sparro IF I CAN'T HAVE YOU 9/20/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jnOHPzNEX5k 40) Drake 10 BANDS 4/15/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bl7yo8IVE5I 41) Kendrick Lamar KING KUNTA 3/25/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hRK7PVJFbS8&index=1&list=RDhRK7PVJFbS8 42) Kendrick Lamar ALRIGHT 7/15/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z-48u_uWMHY 43) Beyonce 7/11 2/3/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k4YRWT_Aldo 44) Calvin Harris/Ellie Goulding OUTSIDE 1/6/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J9NQFACZYEU 45) Janet Jackson/Missy Elliot BURN IT UP! 1/25/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3QvdrmRphjc 46) Florence + the Machine SHIP TO WRECK 6/13/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B9v8jLBrvug 47) Ciara I BET 2/18/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=okGcksYM0N8 48) Ella Henderson GHOST 1/11/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tA8AfQaUnXM 49) Katharine McPhee LICK MY LIPS 8/24/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p0MV4JjkXpQ 50) Drake HOTLINE BLING 1/11/2015 - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uxpDa-c-4Mc 51) B.O.B./Trey Songz NOT FOR LONG 1/10/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mjlzq-e2NE4 52) Mark Ronson/Bruno Mars UPTOWN FUNK 11/15/2014 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OPf0YbXqDm0 53) J. Cole WET DREAMZ 4/2/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eCGV26aj-mM 54) Ariana Grande ONE LAST TIME 2/28/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BPgEgaPk62M 55) Tink MILLION 8/14/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QHHcJWvYs1w 56) Nick Jonas CHAINS 2/10/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U8UX2bbCHJw 57) Nick Jonas LEVELS 9/3/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=taViGR5VT1U 58) Drake HOW ABOUT NOW 1/10/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MhpcZ78Dl1s 59) Passion Pit LIFTED UP (1985) 4/2/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YeINWQDg7zg 60) TV on the Radio HAPPY IDIOT 1/7/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OaKVy-FlaUA 61) Jhene Aiko SPOTLESS MIND 2/17/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BaF-pGyKaOg 62) Rihanna BITCH BETTER HAVE MY MONEY 7/28/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B3eAMGXFw1o 63) Pitbull TIME OF OUR LIVES 1/20/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bTXJQ5ql5Fw 64) Mark Ronson/Kevin Parker DAFFODILS 4/21/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-OWkLF2HLp0 65) Giorgio Moroder/Kylie Minogue RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW 2/2/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6gZ-11-kOSQ 66) J. Cole APPARENTLY 12/17/2014 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eRaFMlZ1YHA 67) George Ezra BUDAPEST 3/4/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VHrLPs3_1Fs 68) Robin Thicke MORNING SUN 7/18/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b-7gr8QvRbc 69) Ne-Yo/Juicy J SHE KNOWS 2/8/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fk1ZO_980DI 70) Toro y Moi EMPTY NESTERS 4/21/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DsY22N5D9UY 71) Omi CHEERLEADER 7/3/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jGflUbPQfW8 72) J Cole NO ROLE MODELZ 8/15/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rBe6fFejsPU 73) Ciara DANCE LIKE WE'RE MAKING LOVE 7/25/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fw_crqWYBCM 74) Teedra Moses GET IT RIGHT 8/13/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BeO1Rv2XQXs 75) The Bird and the Bee WILL YOU DANCE? 6/4/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=flbce8yaBao 76) Jessie Ware WANT YOUR FEELING 1/6/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dwR3xtzu6Rw 77) Sam Smith LAY ME DOWN 2/17/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HaMq2nn5ac0 78) Jhene Aiko LYIN KING 10/13/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6C92rXXHxG8 79) Hailee Steinfeld LOVE MYSELF 10/18/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bMpFmHSgC4Q 80) Disclosure BANG THAT 6/6/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8nZStMpEDio 81) Empire Cast KEEP YOUR MONEY 6/2/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mY9dMc82rvU 82) Ty Dolla $ign/Charli XCX/Tinashe DROP THAT KITTY 4/21/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oqtunQ4yd30 83) Drake ENERGY 8/30/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7LnBvuzjpr4 84) D'angelo and the The Vanguard SUGAH DADDY 12/16/2014 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vo3RAH0zLlU 85) Ellie Goulding ON MY MIND 10/19/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H202k7KfZL0 86) Banks BEGGIN FOR THREAD 1/25/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Twix375Me4Q 87) Tinashe ALL HANDS ON DECK 7/10/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kxUdFQ6N_OI 88) Kygo/Parson James STOLE THE SHOW 7/29/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BgfcToAjfdc 89) Adele HELLO 10/25/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YQHsXMglC9A 90) Nicki Minaj THE NIGHT IS STILL YOUNG 5/18/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IvN5h9BE444 91) Chris Brown LIQUOR 10/27/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HKErmFliQG0 92) Tori Kelly NOBODY LOVE 5/18/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MPX3qz1ve7M 93) Tori Kelly SHOULD'VE BEEN US 8/4/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aE2drlA8vf8 94) Taylor Swift WILDEST DREAMS 11/2/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IdneKLhsWOQ 95) Taylor Swift BLANK SPACE 11/27/2014 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e-ORhEE9VVg 96) Lady Leshurr QUEEN'S SPEECH 9/27/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FyodeHtVvkA 97) Calvin Harris/HAIM PRAY TO GOD 5/18/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8FOBxcluXdk 98) Beach House SPACE SONG 9/9/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RBtlPT23PTM 99) Echosmith BRIGHT 5/13/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kMAzstG5O7E 100) Janelle Monae/Jidenna YOGA 4/21/2015 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0OkB6p_FZAw

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markresonates · 3 years

Text

[adult swim]

summary: No one knows that you moonlight as a camgirl… or so you think...

pairing: lifeguard!Jaehyun x camgirl fem!reader (featuring 127)

genre: porn with plot, lil angst

word count: +5.8k

for @ncteaxhoe and @immabiteyou's debauchery collab♡

warnings: rough unprotected sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, humiliation, degradation, manhandling, on camera, spanking, wrist restraint, oral (fem receiving), creampie, masturbation, sex toys, hard dom!Jaehyun, sub!reader

Summer went by all too quickly.

The season has nearly dipped below the horizon as the dawn of autumn approaches. The dim shadow of shriveled up bronze, brown and crimson leaves, fresh harvests and carved pumpkins chase away the relaxing, sunny period of greater leisure time just days away.

Having passed the fourth stage of grief by now, you are well into your summer mourning period before it has officially been put to rest on the 21st. Of all the things you will miss about the season, your summer job as a lifeguard is at the top of the list. It isn’t so much the working part as it is the co-workers. Specifically, one co-worker.

Your finger trails down the employee shift schedules pinned to the corkboard in the staff locker room. Scrolling through the short list of scribbled names written in red sharpie, you quickly find the person who was supposed to be here this late afternoon.

“Where’s Jaehyun?” you ask.

Mark rubs a towel through his hair, tragically staining the tan material in deep green and blue from his freshly dyed, dead hair. “Oh, he called in sick earlier. Haechan is filling in for him this week.”

“Why? Am I not good enough for you?” Haechan gasps as if taken aback by your innocent inquiry. He raises his eyebrows to the full extent, mouth agape.

The humid air clouding the musty locker room prompts you to rub the back of your sweat slickened neck. You hope to God your question sounded nonchalant. “No, I was just wondering because he was supposed to-”

“You told me I was your favorite shift buddy last week,” Haechan pouts, half jokingly.

“And you believed that?” Johnny chuckles. “Sounds fake to me.”

You laugh along to the chorus of Mark’s hysterical laughter, the individual routinely amused by the simplest of jokes and even relatively funny comments made by either Johnny or the target of his present entertainment.

Haechan slams his locker shut and spins around to face the giggling mess with murderous eyes. “Until you make it up to me for fucking knocking my phone in the pool, you don’t get to make another fucking noise again, got it?” Mark gulps shamefully. Haechan shifts his attention to his roommate towering over him. “And you! I could shave off your eyebrows in your sleep, you know.”

Ignoring Haechan's empty threat, Johnny waves his hand dismissively. He redirects the unwanted, sweltering spotlight back on you. “No, but really, why are you asking?”

“Seriously, I was just wondering,” you unconvincingly defend yourself, forcing an airy toned, superficial laugh. You impulsively rub your prickling neck for the second time.

Johnny squints his eyes, momentarily studying you with skepticism. “Hmm… then why are you so nervous right now?”

“I’m not nervous!” Resolving to busy yourself, you fill an empty locker with your belongings laid out on one of the wide, honey oak benches between locker rows. There is no way on earth you can hide your deer in the headlights expression from the pro bono private investigator hunting for tell-tale signs of your dishonesty. “Why would you say I’m nervous?”

“Because you rub your neck when you’re nervous.” Johnny strokes his faint five o’clock shadow for effect before carrying on with his professional assessment. “And because of how you just responded. Sooo, what are you hiding, y/n?”

“Nothing!” In urgent need of relief from Johnny’s painful, personal probe into your private romantic interests, you attempt to steer the conversation away. “Actually! Mark! I’ve been meaning to ask you what happened with Haechan’s phone? How did you do that?”

Haechan steps in front of Mark before he can get a word in. “Argh! Don’t even get me started, y/n. Mark was-”

“Y/n, that didn’t sound very convincing,” Johnny inserts with a mocking tone. He crosses his arms, gaze seemingly staring straight through your swimsuit.

Your eyes flick to the noisy clock above the door, taking notice that the pool has been unsupervised for far too many ticks. “Hey, I’d love to stay and chat but since your shift ended, three people could’ve drowned by now! So, see you later, Johnny! Bye Mark!” Swiping your whistle from the locker, you loop your arm under Haechan’s. You leave your fellow coworkers in the dust of the stuffy room, dragging the shortest of the bunch through three columns of lockers and out the door. It is only when you breach the outside pool perimeter and the poignant chlorine stench fills your nostrils that you feel at ease; woefully, just when you think you got away with it and let your guard down, the ruse is up.

“You could’ve just said you liked him and saved yourself from whatever that was," he points out very matter of factly. "Honestly, that was just painful to watch."

Haechan flinches at your sudden arm movement, acting as if you're going to hurdle him into the deep end of the pool. “Explain something to me, in what world would admitting I like Jaehyun have not been awkward?”

Haechan throws his hands up defensively. “Hey, all I’m saying is that pretending you don’t know what we’re talking about only makes it more awkward for you. You're not very good at keeping secrets, y/n.”

“You’d be surprised,” you snort. “I can keep secrets better than you think.”

You catch Haechan sarcastically rolling his eyes before lazily striding towards the opposite lifeguard post. “I bet I know whatever it is you think you can hide but whatever! Go on believing whatever you want, yn!”

You mount the white lifeguard chair overlooking the pool, recalling what you did last night. No one knows you moonlight as a camgirl and you prefer to keep it that way. This job as a lifeguard was barely enough to cover the bills and in order to avoid falling behind on your university student loan payments, you took up this secret occupation last year. It’s not like you’re ashamed of it, you just don’t want the other lifeguards to see you in a different light.

The body of water has seen very few kids this afternoon and your chances of having to dive into the pool are slim to none. Every annoying back to school sale ad that pops up in between youtube videos reminds you that most kids have already returned to the classroom. The average age of swimmers these days ranges between those no longer carded at bars and liquor stores and, even more frequently, those who qualify for the early bird specials. Visiting hours at the aquatics center have been limited due to the sparse pool attendance but based on how little you have seen of children, it might as well be adult swim. This position of yours was a seasonal one and sadly that means your last day of work is next week since they no longer need as many supervisors.

The dead activity in the pool doesn’t help your exhaustion. Your eyes feel heavy from staying up later than usual. A handful of your most dedicated viewers tipped you generously late into the night and the longer your show lasted, the greater they tipped your hard working efforts. You don’t plan on carrying on the same lengthy routine tonight but you hope they won't shy away from giving you the larger tips like the night before.

Your shift creeps by slowly and after decades of boring pool monitoring, work comes to a close. At 8:30 pm, Haechan walks you to your car in the dark, empty parking. “Have a fun night, y/n.”

“I doubt it’ll be fun exactly,” you scoff as your car door swings open. “I’m not really doing anything but thanks anyways.”

“Huh, well if you say so." Despite the lamp posts in the lot shedding the dimmest of light, you manage to see the shadowy smirk plastered on his face before bidding you adieu. The tone of his statement and his twisted all-knowing smile makes you feel uneasy but you choose to ignore it.

[ genius_bunny ] How was your day beautiful?

[ daddy1&only ] i bet it was fun

[ daddy1&only ] like really fun;)

“Uh, not really. I was really tired so I slept in, and then I had work this evening,” you tell your current patrons watching you, waiting for more of them to flood into the stream. You started filming a few minutes ago and typically stall the actual show until about 100 of them arrive. Until you reach that point, you carry on casual conversations with your regulars that show up on time. These just happen to be the big tippers that often ask prying questions to which you answer with vague responses.

[ stopcallingme-pocket-sized ] Sorry you’re tired:(

[ peaches_l0ver ] shig were you tired because we like made you stay up really later?

[ peaches_l0ver ] *shit

[ milkfukingsucks ] God get it together peaches wtf

“No, it’s okay! Don't feel bad! It was my decision to stay up late so it’s really not your fault you guys.” You get closer to the screen to check if you read the unusual username correctly. “Hey, I have a question. Why does milk suck?”

[ milkfukingsucks ] It’s kind of a long story

[ peaches_l0ver ] no it’s not

[ milkfukingsucks ] basically Milk fucks up a lot and even Milk is allergic to milk

[ daddy1&only ] yeah

[ genius_bunny ] seriously you always back milkfukingsucks. why.

[ osakaprince ] milk isn’t that bad

[ hotpotato420 ] stop talking badly about milk:(

You giggle at the rapid responses that pop up to the initial comment. “Well anyways, welcome milkfuckingsucks.”

[ milkfukingsucks ] aww you’re so sweet

[ milkfukingsucks ] i’m sunny-ace normally

“Ohhh! Now I get it,” you nod a few times, before someone new arrives.

[ mr.dimples has tipped $200 / €170 / ₩236404 ]

[ mr.dimples ] hey I’m sorry I wasn’t here last night. I wasn’t feeling very well

[ mr.dimples ] I missed you, baby

Your eyes noticeably light up as your favorite patron joins the chat, the main reason you were stalling the show from the beginning. “Hi Dimples, I missed you too.”

[ peaches_l0ver ] hey can i ask one last question?

You sigh and give in. “Okay, one last question.”

[ peaches_l0ver ] what are your biggest turn ons? Or like ideal wet dream of yours

[ milkfukingsucks ] that’s two questions. can you even count?

“Hmm, good question.” Your face twists in concentration. Peering up at the ceiling, you sift through your naughtier thoughts. “I really like the thought of being dominated. I mean, like really dominated.”

[ mr.dimples ] what does really dominated mean?

Your brow furrows deeper as you pick apart the particular wording that comes to mind when addressing your desires. “Lately, I’ve been imagining a guy coming up to me from behind when I’m busy doing something else, and then pushing me up against a wall or something like that. And then they’d rub until they feel I’m wet through whatever I'm wearing.”

[ mr.dimples ] then what?

You ponder how they could interpret your description of the scenario that you picture. The scenario that you imagine every time you play with yourself and has been the only thing to make you come for weeks now. “Then ripping my clothes off and… tying my hands behind my back and…”

[ mr.dimples ] and?

“-and using degrading names… and kind of humiliating me in public? Or semi public-ish? And obviously fucking me really, really hard.”

[ peaches_l0ver ] fuck that’s so fucking hot

“But the thing is I want it to be someone I want in the first place, not a surprise or whatever? Like I want that from this one guy at my work who keeps calling in sick and-” You blink and shake your head, silently cursing yourself for letting a personal detail about your life slip out to these strangers.

[ daddy1&only ] hey can you repeat that?

[ milkfukingsucks ] what was that last part you said there?

[ mr.dimples ] yeah slut I wanna hear those words from your lips again

Pretending that you didn’t just mistakenly reveal a secret of yours, you carry on with minor preparations. “Actually you guys, I think it’s time I get started. Don’t you want to see me naked already?” Readjusting the high definition camera clinging to the top of your desktop computer gives the eager patrons an ideal perspective to your half naked body. You undo the last button of your see-through blouse and fold it neatly on your desk to extend their tortuous wait time. Getting up from your cheap swivel chair and rolling it out of the frame, you turn around for them and tug your skimpy short shorts down your legs, equally as slow. You hear the chat ding twice, signaling two of them have tipped you and can’t help but check their usernames and what amount they contributed.

[ daddy1&only has tipped $50 / €43 / ₩59101 ]

[ daddy1&only ] fuck you’re killing me here

[ 127fishsurgeon has tipped $100 / €85 / ₩118202 ]

[ 127fishsurgeon ] take your time:)

You wink and return to your seductive show. Turning around again, you unclasp your black, lacy bra in the back and slip the straps of your shoulders. The only article of clothing remaining on your body is thin, mesh panties that match with the sexy bra you just discarded on the floor. You cup your breasts in your hands and spin around once more. Flicking and twisting your hardened nipples you feign an innocent tone and purr, “How much for me removing my panties?” You are satisfied that the simple question entices over four dozen tips that amount to a total of $400 / €341 / ₩472808.

Complying with their request, you bend over your tall queen bed and repeat the same action as your shorts. Your panties stick to your slick slit before falling to your feet. You kick the thin clothing off your ankles. Winding your hands behind your body, your fingers make contact with your wetness and you let a pleasured sigh fall from your lips. You hold your folds open for them to see for a dozen seconds then trace your dominant hand's fingers through your arousal while continuing to hold yourself open with the other hand. Dozens of dinging sounds ring from your computer’s speakers but this time you don’t check them out, focusing on getting yourself off instead.

[ osakaprince has tipped $69 / €58 / ₩81559 ]

[ peaches_l0ver has tipped $50 / €43 / ₩59101 ]

[ genius+bunny has tipped $100 / €85 / ₩118202 ]

[ stopcallingme-pocket-sized has tipped $50 / €43 / ₩59101 ]

After fingering yourself like this for 5-ish minutes, you go to grab your bright pink vibrator from your desk, giving you the chance to check the messages and donations in the chat.

[ hotpotato420 ] How is it possible that you’re so hot

[ hotpotato420 has tipped $69 / €58 / ₩81559 ]

[ milkfukingsucks ] no one compares seriously

[ milkfukingsucks has tipped $100 / €85 / ₩118202 ]

You grab the vibrant sex toy and hold it up for them to see. “I know I promised to get that new powerful toy that I showed you last week, you know the one that’s kind of rounded and vibrates and fucks me at the same time? But someone else ordered the last one,” you whine, popping your bottom lip out. “I’ll try to find something else though. Sorry!”

[ mr.dimples has tipped $200 / €170 / ₩236404 ]

[ mr.dimples ] babe it’s okay

[ mr.dimples ] i bet you’ll get it eventually

The corners of your lips prick up at his comment. “Thanks for understanding you guys.” You climb on your bed, situating yourself in a spot where you're partially sitting up and partially leaning back against a handful of pillows. Spreading your legs wide, you take the bright pink vibrator and press it to your clit. You flick on the switch and immediately jolt forward from the powerful buzzing sensation.

[ osakaprince ] nothing hotter than you getting yourself off

[ daddy1&only ] i think about you fucking yourself every time I go to work

[ daddy1&only has tipped $100 / €85 / ₩118202 ]

[ milkfukingsucks ] me too.

[ milkfukingsucks ] every. single. time.

[ milfukingsucks has tipped $200 / €170 / ₩236404 ]

[ peaches_l0ver ] me three

Loud moans slip from your mouth as the tingling feeling overtakes your senses and the electrifying vibrations burn through your body. Their hungry eyes eat up the sight of your squirming body on the bed, pumping their own cocks in their hands as you begin to curl your fingers inside your opening. When you finally come, you exaggerate your whimpers to turn them on even more, knowing they'll climax faster from hearing your noises.

[ genius+bunny has tipped $50 / €43 / ₩59101 ]

[ 127fishsurgeon has tipped $75 / €64 / ₩88658 ]

[ genius+bunny has tipped $100 / €85 / ₩118202 ]

[ 127fishsurgeon has tipped $125 / €106 / ₩147763 ]

[ genius+bunny ] fish nurse are you doing that on purpose

[ 127fishsurgeon ] i have no idea what you're talking about dumb bunny

You breathe heavily, setting the vibrator down on a towel to your side before the next round. Your legs close slightly but not to the point where they can’t see your wetness dribbling from your clenched hole. You look at the camera, fluttering your eyelashes and licking your lip seductively. Leaning in to read some of the chatter praising your dirty performance, your favorite patron’s slew of comment capture your interest above all others. You don’t know whether his comments are arousing or worrisome.

[ mr.dimples ] god the things I would do to you if you were mine

[ mr.dimples ] you can’t even imagine baby

[ mr.dimples ] but maybe someday

[ mr.dimples has tipped $500 / €426 / ₩591010 ]

A total of 3 people have visited the pool today, surprisingly low attendance considering the late afternoon has shifted into adult swim hours. There are upsides and downsides to this certain situation. Upsides include the high likelihood that you will not need to jump in the pool (something you've grown used to over the past two weeks) and also you don’t need to pay as much attention to your job- then again, it’s not like much attention is given to the pool on the days that your shifts coincide with Jaehyun's. It has been exactly one week since you last saw him and strangely the smiles he shoots your way seem to be extra charming today.

“So how was your weekend, y/n?” he asks smoothly, staring up to where you are posted in the lifeguard tower. “Do anything fun?

What's with you hearing the word fun so often?

The captivating look in his eyes sucks you and momentarily makes it difficult for you to spit words out. Swallowing the urge to nervously stutter in response, you calmly collect yourself as if his alluring aura doesn't affect you in the slightest. “It was uneventful, but thank you for asking.”

He chuckles lightly. “Well what did you do? Or is it a secret?”

You scoff and shake your head. “I don’t have any secrets, Jaehyun. It was just boring and that’s it.” You tear your eyes away from him to focus on a pool floatie bobbing up and down in the water, purposefully not asking him about his own weekend to give off the impression that you don’t care much.

Guys like it when you play hard to get, right?

“So you’re really not going to ask me about my weekend?”

“Oh, sorry! I forgot about you,” you muse with a sweet smile. “How was your weekend, Jaehyun?”

He returns your sweet smile, his coated with extra sugar and sultry temptation. The intense spark in his gaze invokes a hot tingly feeling in between your legs. “It was great, actually. Just relaxed and watched stuff on my laptop like usual."

“Hmm, sounds fun,” you say with little interest. You suddenly sit up straight and climb down the lifeguard tower. “I also forgot to put on sunscreen! I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?” You don’t wait for concurrence, making your way to the staff locker room with your own initiative. There's only three middle aged swimmers in the water at the moment so he will have no problem at all covering for your absence.

You trail through the maze of lockers before reaching yours. Entering the combo and popping the lock off of the metal cubby, you retrieve the orange container of pearly liquid. You pull down the top of your one-piece swimsuit to reach the areas that might be exposed to the sun’s harmful rays on your back side. Anyone can get skin cancer after all. As you rub the protective lotion over your skin, Jaehyun watches you, joining the locker room not long after you did. Through the angled mirror in the locker room, he watches your front side, admiring your exposed body that he has seen more times than he can count.

You finally glance to the side and see his reflection ogling at your naked body, pivoting to face the lockers and covering your bare breasts. “F-fuck!” you screech. You fist at the top of your swimsuit to tug it up and cover your body appropriately but it snags on the open locker door, making it impossible to pull up without handling the complication with two hands. You grab your pool towel and wrap it around your body as a substitute for coverage. “Jaehyun, what the fuck are you doing in here?”

“Did you really think you could keep it a secret y/n?” Jaehyun teases you. His taunting instantly brings that nervous feeling you shoved down your throat to bubble back up inside you.

You laugh awkwardly, eyes never leaving the inside of your locker as if obligated to study the faded black duffle bag cramped up inside the metal storage compartment. “Jaehyun, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have any secrets, I just told you that.”

Perhaps it’s rooted in his competitive nature but when Jaehyun is certain of something, he tends to take every measure to get to the bottom of it and get confirmation on his theory. You didn’t think this was one of those circumstances though, being that you were under the impression he is fishing for answers. Literally minutes ago you had told him you didn’t have any secrets. What reasonable evidence did he have that would make him so sure?

“Then tell me, baby… how else do you make money?” the heartthrob asks alarmingly close to you.

You swallow thickly, mouth dry and head spinning. “Are you high? I already told you I don’t have any secr-”

“Cut the bullshit, y/n. We both know that you’re lying.” By this point, he is directly behind you, hot breath tickling the bare skin of your shoulder blades.

Courage whelms up in your tight chest, emboldening your assertion, “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Seriously, I’m telling the truth.” Your statement sounds convincing enough to sway anyone away from skepticism, or anyone save for Jaehyun, that is.

“Okay, sure… so you’re telling me that you don’t fuck yourself in front of a camera and broadcast it on live for anyone to watch?”

You’re beyond shocked by his provocative words, so much so that the pool towel clutched to your chest with one hand, as well as your jaw, drop to the floor. The damp material crumples around your ankles.

He snickers at your alarmed reaction. “Yeah, I know you’re a little slut, y/n.” Running his knuckles down the length of your arm lightly, he further stokes the fire in your abdomen. “We all know you’re a little slut.”

“A-all?” you squeak with mortified eyes bulging out of your head. You crane your neck around to meet his heated gaze. He proudly dawns a dark smirk, devilish dimples etched into his cheeks.

“Haechan is reallllyy good at finding things out sometimes.”

“Haechan? H-how?”

Ignoring your question, Jaehyun continues, “And I’ve always wondered something. Do you wanna know what that is?”

You nod without hesitancy. “What?” You try to spin around to face him but he swiftly shoves your front up against the lockers.

“When I watch you finger yourself, I’ve always wondered what your pretty pussy would feel like if it was my fingers instead,” he confesses in a low voice.

Surprising both him and yourself, you voluntarily maneuver your hands behind your back at his mercy and whisper, “then what are you waiting for?”

One of his hands roughly closes over your wrists while the other hooks between your legs to rub the red stretchy material over your slit with eager fingers. “God, what a whore. You’re already wet.”

You let out a weak whine, squirming against the lockers as he thumbs your swimsuit to the side and immediately plunges into your entrance. His fingers pet your warm walls generously.

“You like that, huh? Getting fingered in the locker room in public? Nearly anyone could walk in and see what a dirty slut you are,” Jaehyun sneers menacingly. “Fucking answer me, whore.”

“Yes! I like it, I really like it,” you whimper. He slides his fingers out of you and lets go of your wrists, ripping your swimsuit down your legs swiftly. You lift your feet up uncoordinatedly and he has to steady your body so you don’t timber to the tile floor. He retracts all contact from your body for 30 seconds to take care of a few tasks. He first positions large kickboards to be placed under your knees preventing your injury when he yanks you to the ground and wrangles your body in a certain position on your knees. Bending you over one of the wooden locker room benches, he spanks your ass hard.

Returning to his feet, he stretches your swimsuit vertically to the point where you can hear dozens of seams snap. He starts to tie your wrists together behind you, cooing, “What a shame that it ripped. I bet it’s going to be so embarrassing when you go out there in a ripped swimsuit, hmm?” Jaehyun also gets to his knees, returning his fingers to your slick hole, this time fingering you with greater intensity. “Maybe people will see your breasts or your ass through the holes I made. Honestly I can’t wait to see that embarrassed look on your face when they find out you’re a naughty slut.”

You groan and throw your head back, savoring the thrill of being fingered by Jaehyun at work. He blesses you with heavenly pleasure for longer than you can comprehend then. Leaning down to kitten lick at your folds, he thrusts his tongue inside you a minute later, reaching one hand around to your front and rubbing your clit aggressively.

You didn’t know that when he stepped away to take care of some things he had 1. thrown the kickboards down in front of the bench to protect his knees and your knees; 2. removed his black shirt and green swim trunks; and 3. set up his phone to record the naughty ordeal. He strokes his stiff cock in the hand that isn’t responsible for attacking your clit with overstimulated rubbing and rocks back on his knees, shifting out of the way to show your gushing slit to the camera for a moment.

Your impatience to be filled by him pushes you to whine, “Jaehyun, please fuck me already.”

“Aw, the dirty whore is desperate to be filled,” he mocks you, smacking your ass a handful of times. You hear him chuckling at every half aroused/half pained sob that rolls off your tongue uncontrollably with every swift blow to your skin. “Ask nicely again, baby.”

“p-please, Jaehyun... please I need it, I need you inside me now… please!” You wiggle your butt side to side, whining louder than your previous noises.

Without warning, he sinks his thick cock inside you in one motion. You release a strained sob while your walls sting, taking deep breaths as you adjust to his size. “Fuck, I always knew you would be this tight.” He rocks into you at a fast pace from the very start and in no time at all, he pumps inside you with ferocity you have never experienced before.

“I didn’t tell you before, but I’m recording all of this on my phone. You know, for the times when you aren’t online, streaming yourself fucking that dirty pussy with your fingers or using your naughty toys,” he huffs.

“G-good, I’m glad I can make y-you happy anytime you want,” you stutter through exhaustion. Thinking about how he has watched you come so many times happens to be a greater turn on for some reason.

“That turns you on, right? Being filmed and exposed, completely naked, cunt on display for everyone to see like a fucking slut?”

Distracted by overflowing arousal, you hum in agreement without managing to form any words. You haven't yet lost touch with reality but all of your attention is on the pulsating hot sensation that he is bringing you. This whole thing has been beyond better than all those times you pictured Jaehyun fucking you deep and dirty. "You're just a hole, y/n. Your cunt is meant to be fucked and used all the time. And that's exactly what I'm going to do to it."

His fingers connect with your abused clit once more to throw you over the edge. You bite down hard on your bottom lip to suppress the loud cry that impulsively rises up your throat as tight knots snap from overwhelming stimulation. Your orgasm ripples through your veins, triggering every muscle in your body to convulse and spasm widely. His fingers don't let up on the borderline torturous circles over your clit for an extra minute or so.

He hums satisfied he could make you come in such a way he jerked off to all those nights you were live streaming your orgasms. Jaehyun powerfully pounds into you for what feels like a blissful eternity before his stamina wears thin, on the cusp of climax. “God, you feel so good, y/n. The others are gonna be so jealous I get to fuck you from now on.”

You anchor your hands to the bench as he defiles your cunt with hard thrusts to finally reach his peak. His hips buck into your throbbing hole erratically, unloading inside you and filling you to the brim with his cum. He slides out of you and rocks back on his thighs. He watches a mixture of your juices and his cum drip on the kickboard below you and beads of white roll down the inside of your legs.

You’re a panting mess. Dizzy and dehydrated, you lay your chest on the bench. Your head remains in the clouds for a few moments, only jolting when something makes contact with your sore slit. Jaehyun wipes away some of the cum with the corner of your towel that didn’t fall on the locker room floor.

“Up we go,” Jaehyun encourages, helping you to your feet. “There it is, good girl.” He stabilizes your body when you sway back and forth, then helps you put your swimsuit back on one wobbly leg at a time. It isn’t nearly as bad as he made it seem before, just a few loose seams along the edges. He kisses your cheek and winks. “Next time, we’ll have to use that new sex toy I bought before you could.”

You swat his arm hearing the revelation. “No way! That was you?”

He engulfs you in his strong arms. “Mhmm, and I’m going to make you come so many times, you’ll be screaming my name loud enough for all the other guys that happen to live on my same floor to hear.”

Rolling your eyes, you wriggle out of his hold and feel the damp material covering your pulsating slit. “Jaehyun, I’m still leaking your cum. I thought you wiped me up?”

He raises one eyebrow, challenging you to something devious and wildly inappropriate. “y/n, I thought it would be a fun little game if you could keep my cum a secret until the end of our shift. What do you say? Think you can manage to actually keep a naughty secret this time or will someone notice something seeping from your used cunt?”

You purse your lips, mind mulling over the dangerous game. Thankfully you're on birth control and you barely allocate 0.1% of your hesitancy to that particular matter. You never anticipated you would willingly take on something so risky and potentially embarrassing; the thing is, nothing has ever excited you more than Jaehyun’s proposal has and you're desperate to indulge in what arouses you most. You're melting at the very thought of it.

There are only 3 people out there, 5 maximum, so it's really not that big of a deal. It's not extremely risky. If you sit down, you'll immediately wipe the sticky wet patch off your seat secretly when you get up. When you walk around, you'll take coordinated steps to aid in your efforts of holding his load inside you, clenching your core real tight with every stride. It's still exciting that there's a small chance of getting caught leaking a mixture of Jaehyun's cum and your own cum from your sore, swollen cunt but it'll be pretty easy to hide...

right?

For better or for worse, you ultimately return his sly smile, firmly shaking the rough hand he extends out to you. “You’re on. But I’m wearing my short robe, got it?”

He laughs for some reason that is unknown to you, delivering a shift, sweet kiss to your lips one last time, then leading you out to the pool. “As long as you don’t tie it and leave the front open for anyone that's outside to see your bottom half, that’s fine.”

The millisecond you step through the entryway of the locker room, you find out why Jaehyun was so amused.

“Hey, y/n! Surprise!” Haechan yells from across the pool followed by greetings from 7 other guys for a mini, last minute end of the summer celebration. Some of them are your other co-workers while the rest are acquaintances. You don’t know which ones you would be more embarrassed to notice Jaehyun’s cum trailing down your inner thighs. Starting to sense the stickiness escaping your swimsuit, you try to nonchalantly wipe that area when you think no one is looking.

“Good luck keeping this secret, baby,” Jaehyun whispers in your ear. “You’re gonna need it.”

You uncomfortably waddle away from Jaehyun as your lifeguard co-workers approach his side, pretending that you didn't hear him say that every friend of his has watched your own cum drool down onto your bed before. You haven't the faintest clue that the other guys - ALL of the other guys - know what went down in the locker room. Let's just say you weren't exactly quiet.

"Sooo... are you ever going to let us see the video you recorded in there? Or at least me?" Haechan flutters his eyelashes, hoping to appeal to Jaehyun and sneak a peek of the dirty movie. "Remember, none of this would've happened if it wasn't for me catching y/n looking at her site on her laptop at the beginning of the summer."

Jaehyun laughs at the younger lifeguard's pleading tone. "In your dreams, sunny ace."

shhh don’t tell anyone but i have no clue how much camgirls are tipped irl

i started writing this at the height of the adult swim challenge/trend on tiktok, but then i hit a wall and put it off for like two months... pretty lucky that 127's pool activities in nct life sparked my interest again and encouraged me to finally finish it, you know?

there are wayyy too many incomplete works of mine that just sit in google docs, collecting virtual dust, and i don't know if i'll ever finish them. it's like a waste of words and time...but then again, there's always some hope i'll find inspiration to finish those others like this one!

*stream sticker*

➾my masterlist

#neowritingsnet #nct #jaehyun #jaehyun smut #nct smut #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct 127 #nct 127 smut #nct 127 fic #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 imagines #jaehyun nct #nct jaehyun #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun fic #jaehyun x reader

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